Archive of Our Own ^beta

She had done it.

Godric be praised. She had fucking done it.

Hermione looked at the contents on the table in front of her. There were four rings. One for him. Three for her. They worked as a Portkey, but tethered to each other in pairs, activated with a wandless spell. And best of all, they were completely untraceable, infinitely reusable and wouldn’t be detected as a magical object by any known spell known to wizardkind. Two of the rings went on her hand, one of their counterparts she ringed on Crooks his collar. No one would be able to get it from him. It would be safe, she would always have a way home. The other counterpart would be for him.

Now she could finally see him - see him without prying eyes.

Talk to him – talk to him without everyone listening to every word.

Even their letters weren’t private. Every word they wrote to each other was checked by the Auror Department.

Now she could finally touch him - touch him without an Auror standing in the corner, making a tsk-sound.

As if she was a fucking cat.

Hermione bristled. Draco had been denied some basic human rights, all in the name of anti-terrorism. Even though he had helped them, albeit a bit late – yes, she recognized that. She was in love, not stupid. He had been sentenced to 12 years of house arrest, not being able to leave the Manor grounds. Visitors were monitored, communication monitored, every movement monitored. They turned the place itself into a prison. A very fucking luxurious prison, but still, a prison. Even the inmates at Azkaban had private visiting hours! She couldn’t even get a minute alone with the man she was hopelessly in love with.

After his trial, he had written her. Apologized. Opened the flood gates and laid himself bare. She had written back. After two years of writing, she called him a friend.

After four years of writing, they met for tea. At first in the gardens, because Hermione couldn’t enter the Manor itself. To be honest, she was quite proud of herself she went to the Manor in the first place. Draco had written her he had removed the room, built a sunroom in it’s place. Filled with plants, flowers and butterflies, filled it with new life, to vanish the rot of the dark magic. Sunlight shining in bright whenever the weather allowed.

After six years they started to read together, exploring all the books of the Manor library. Hermione had fallen in love with that library the moment the doors opened. She hadn’t seen anything as grande, as majestic, as the rooms in which all the Malfoy books were stored. It was three stories high, connected with big winding staircases. A hearth on the first floor, surrounded by big comfortable chairs. Working stations on the second floor. Books as far as the eye could see. She could live in that library.

After eight years, she started to visit every other day, finding herself wanting to see Draco every chance she got. They read together, had tea, shared meals, tended the gardens or just walked. Hermione brought in a telly so Draco could watch her favorite shows. Making it work was quite the feat, but Draco had figured it out. He had the time after all, and he had appreciated the challenge. They didn’t sat on separate sofa’s anymore, but crept closer. They crept closer every change they got.

After nine years, she realized she was in love. She had written her confession in one of the cooking books they liked to try recipes from – to the horror of the elves –  knowing the Aurors wouldn’t check that, they already had when they started using it. The shortest note she had ever received by owl had also been the note she would always remember. Me too – he had written. Just that. But it was enough.

He still had two years left of the house arrest. Hermione couldn’t wait any longer. Being in love with someone for over a year and not even being able to hold hands? Let alone snog the living daylight out of him? It was bloody torment.

They had kept their love from everyone. Of course the Aurors had suspicions. Harry had questioned her about Draco multiple times, even more frequently after she started seeing him so often. And Hermione knew it wasn’t solely because he was Head Auror. He knew her. He probably knew she was in love with him. Still wasn’t planning on cutting her some slack, the wanker. The boy who had broken every rule at Hogwarts had turned into a law abiding -  law executing – member of society. Harry also didn't give a single shite about Malfoy, which didn't help either.

---

Hermione walked through the gates – the Floos were all closed – and was patted down. The Aurors at the gates were dressed as Muggle security guards, just to be sure. The Manor and grounds were all warded, Muggle repelling spells in place, but there were a few who would get lost and still stumble upon the gate.

‘Don’t you have work? You’re here awfully lot.’ The Auror going through her purse was quite young. All the older ones knew her, or knew she was friends with Harry, and whilst they did search her awfully thorough, they never dared speaking their minds.

‘I don’t see how that is any of your business? I am allowed to be here on visiting days.’ She pointed out. A bit harsh, maybe. She grew sick and tired of everyone questioning her.

The Auror mumbled an excuse and let her through. Draco was standing by the front door, waiting on her. A smile plastered on his face, his blue grey eyes lighting up. His blonde hair a bit too long, haphazardly falling onto his forehead. Dressed in grey sweats – thanks to Hermione, who introduced them to him, for his own benefit of course (but the moment he had seen the reaction she had to him wearing them, he started dressing down an awful lot more) – and a grey hoodie, he looked so young. So carefree. As if he wasn’t a prisoner in his own home.

She wanted to eat him. Ravish him. Lick his whole body. Taste every inch of him.

She bit her lip. All she could do was nod. There was an Auror standing in the hallway, the ones at the gate also looking their way.

‘Goodmorning, love.’ He said with a nod back, stupid grin on his face. The wanker had seen her looking at those Godric damned sweats.

‘Hello, Draco.’

‘You look amazing.’

‘You always say that.’ Hermione mumbled, looking at the Auror behind him. She wanted to touch him so badly. Just, hold his hand. Maybe reach for those wild hairs, sweep them back. Hermione was starved for his touch, and she could only imagine how he must feel. A decade without physical contact, with anyone. Not even a hug from his mother, who moved her house arrest to their Manor in France after three years. Not that they were allowed to hug or even brush a hand across a shoulder when she did still live here. Not allowed. No physical contact what so ever.

‘You always look amazing.’ Draco answered happily.

Her hair was up in a bun and she was wearing jeans and a hoodie herself. She couldn’t bring her wand onto the grounds and she sure as fuck wasn’t giving it to one of the Aurors at the gate for safekeeping. Which means she had to use her car to get at the Manor and also always had to dress in het Muggle clothing. She preferred her jeans over anything else, so it wasn’t really a sacrifice, but dressing in robes had its advantages when you had to deal with wizards and witches.

Sitting down in the kitchen, one of the elves presented her with a crooked cake.

‘The master has been baking.’ He said with disdain. The elf could be a Malfoy himself.

Hermione snorted. ‘Thank you, Pip. It looks delicious.’

The latter got her a raised eyebrow, the old elf his eyes telling her he thought she was bonkers.

‘It is delicious!’ Draco said as he took a knife and cut it into pieces. Pip just grumbled to himself and left the kitchen. Tea already stood ready at the table, as did a few scones and some jam.

Hermione took a bite. She knew Draco could follow a recipe. He had missed brewing potions, he wasn’t allowed, and the moment he had confessed that to her, they had started baking. It always had an amazing taste, but the exterior? He could work on that.

Savoring the cake and the tea, they talked about the usual. News, weather, the book they were reading, anything really. There was an Auror on watch in the corner of the kitchen, sitting on a barstool. Listening to every word they said.

‘I’m going to the restroom.’ Hermione stood up and put her bag on her shoulder.

‘Why are you taking your bag to the loo?’ The Auror asked.

‘Sometimes women need to bring their purses when relieving themselves.’ She said, poison lacing her words.

The Auror walked towards her, looking at her bag.

‘It has already been checked at the gate. Or do you maybe want me to see insert the tampon? Just to be sure?’ She waved at him with a tampon in her hand.

The Auror turned red and stumbled over his words. ‘No, err – of course not. My apologies.’

Draco sat as silent as the dead, staring to the wall in front of him. She could see his jaw muscles clenched, his knuckles turned white on the edge of the table. He hated this. She knew. She also knew that if he made a comment, they would make his life even more of a living hell. Waking him up in the middle of the night for no reason, rejecting his visitors at the gate, not giving him room to shower alone, messing with his food when the elves weren’t watching or never giving him his letters. They also really liked turning every room of the Manor inside out in the name of random searches, leaving Draco with the mess and no magic to help him clean. He and Hermione knew those searches were bullshit. They had searched the whole Manor before his arrest started, everything going in and out was searched. There were wards and spells in place, prohibiting apparition, non-approved magical objects, and a lot more. There was no need for those searches other than to bully him into submission. So, Draco kept silent. And she knew that in itself felt like submission to him, when it was in reality, just a means to an end.

In the bathroom she took her keys out of her purse as silent as possible and looped of the ring. Putting it on her keychain was the safest way to get it in, a sharp Auror could maybe see her entering with three rings on her fingers and leave with two. She couldn’t take the risk. She had shaped this ring after a ring Draco wore every day, so it wouldn’t look out of place on his hands. Keeping it safe in her bra for the time being, she made her way back to the kitchen.

‘You know,’ Hermione said as she entered the kitchen again. ‘I was hoping we could maybe bake one of those sourdough breads today? I would love to bring a piece to work tomorrow.’

She didn’t. She wanted Draco to knead the bread. That meant he would have to lose the rings for a bit and she could plant the ring she made. Because there was always an Auror around and all her letters would be read before delivered, she never shared her plan with Draco. Godric, he really had to put on that bloody ring for it to work. If he left it in the kitchen, she would appear there and that was too much of a risk.

‘Why not?’ Draco said. ‘If we fetch some tomatoes from the garden, we can make a soup to go with it.’

‘Excellent idea.’ Hermione grabbed a basket from the counter and made her way to the door.

---

‘Draco, this is yours, I believe?’ Hermione asked him, holding up the ring, covered with dirt. She sat between the tomato plants, on her knees. Just moments before she had quickly pulled it out of her bra, sitting with their backs to the Auror she felt as if that was the best time. Draco had seen she was doing something rather out of place, but just went on with plucking tomatoes.

Draco looked at his fingers before looking at her.

‘It is.’ He said, without question in his voice, but with one eyebrow raised. Draco was no fool. He had seen all of his rings were accounted for but the look on Hermione her face must’ve been enough for him to go with it. And she never before fished something out of her bra, so that probably helped too.

‘You must make sure it won’t ever come of your finger again.’ Hermione said softly.

Draco gave a nod of confirmation – he would make sure it wouldn’t – and quickly removed the ring she shaped it after, and replaced it with her ring. Before she knew it, he had buried it.

‘No whispering!’ The Auror called out.

‘Sorry!’ Hermione called out. ‘Wasn’t my intention. I was so impressed by the size of these tomatoes, it took my breath away.’

‘Sure.’ The Auror drawled.

‘No, but look!’ Hermione pulled a rather big, fleshy tomato from the tree and held it in the air. ‘Have you ever seen such a big one?’

The Auror shook his head and mumbled something about how he deserved a better job than babysitting. Draco sat beside her, chuckling without a sound.

---

Hermione was nervous. Godric. She had never been this nervous before. She fidgeted with her curls, looking at herself in the mirror.

She had tested her rings, sure. But there was always a possibility of something going wrong. Of an Auror barging in the bedroom. Fuck, what if Draco didn’t want her there? That scared her even more.

She knew Draco his routine. The Aurors had a shift change at ten in the evening, he would greet the new one, and retire to his chambers. Because he had behaved himself the for at least the past two years, they almost never came into his bedroom anymore. They probably slept too, Draco had made one of the guest rooms into a room especially for them, in the hopes they would leave him alone in the evenings. It had worked like a charm. She knew Draco did everything he could to make their work as easy as possible, knowing they would refuse her visiting him if he so much as talked back. They had done once, knowing it was one of the last things they could do to really mess with him. Hermione had made a scene at the gate, had even called Harry, yelling. Nothing worked. That had been the last first and the last time they had both given the Aurors the opportunity to deny them their visits.

It was half past nine. Another thirty minutes. She had been ready for an hour. She looked at herself once more. She was wearing a tight black dress, made of the softest fabric, which ended half way her thighs. It had an off shoulder neckline, long sleeves that covered her arms beyond her wrists. Draco had seen her scar, which hadn’t faded a bit over the years, so she knew she didn’t have to cover it up. She did so because the guilt that she saw in his eyes broke her heart every time.
Her hair cascaded down her back, reaching her waist. It took her some years but she finally learned how to tame them, the curls shining in the dim light of her bedroom. A few of them framed her face, adorned with just a smudge of mascara.
Hermione looked down. She was wearing her lace up biker boots, so she looked as if she was planning on going out dancing in a field, more than meeting the love of her life in secret, but honestly, she hated wearing heels. She had tried on the outfit with her black loafers, but that gave it too much of an office vibe. Her flats didn’t do wonders for the outfit either. She liked how the sexy dress combined with the tough shoes made her look.

And, she could run as fast as fuck with these on. She was planning on breaking the law, after all. The wards would definitely go off if she brought her wand with her, she already tried that, so she had to rely on her wandless magic. She had been practicing that, but still, she was rather defenseless without it. She just hoped the alarm bells wouldn’t ring because she was there after visiting hours. Surely, the Aurors wouldn’t change the wards every day now, would they? They weren’t even happy to be there, let alone put in more work than absolutely necessary.

---

Ten o’clock. Time never had gone by as slowly as it had done this evening. Hermione her whole bedroom had been cleaned, her closet reorganized. The kitchen was spotless and the livingroom had been tidied up. Ten more minutes, ten more minutes to be sure it was safe.

---

Ten past ten. Her heartbeat raced in her throat. She couldn’t swallow. Her legs were trembling. Her hands shaking. Merlins beard, she needed to get a fucking grip. Standing in the middle of her living room, she held the hand with her rings in front of her. The one on her middle finger was the way to Draco – yes, the placement had been on purpose, because fuck them – and the one on her ring finger was the way home.

Amor est via – she whispered, rubbing the ring with her pointer finger and thumb of her other hand.

She was sucked into nothingness. Blackness surrounded her for a second, before she was thrust into a dimly lit room. Hermione had been in Draco his bedroom before, reading by the fire with views of the rose gardens. A giant four poster bed, made of rich dark wood, draped in dark green velvet curtains came into her vision.

The man sitting atop the bed with a book in hand, dressed in another pair of grey sweats, hair mussed from the shower, stared at her with his depthless eyes in shock.

Hermione waited a second, two seconds. Five at most. No alarm bells. No Auror beating down the door. Another few second to be sure. She stood there, staring back at Draco. A crooked grin on her face.

Draco didn’t move.

Hermione pounced.

She thrusted herself on the bed, straddled him and grabbed his face. Draco never hesitated, threw aside his book and wrapped his arms around her. Their lips met halfway. He held her tight as they discovered the touching of their lips for the first time. Soft at first. Little kisses. But they turned wanton fairly fast. Draco nipped her bottom lip and Hermione had to stifle a groan. They couldn’t make any noise, the risk was too high.

Hermione grabbed his hair and kissed him even deeper. She felt wetness on their cheeks. As she opened her eyes, she noticed she was crying. Draco swallowed, his throat bobbing and looked at her, his eyes lined with silver as well. They were finally touching. After all those years. All those days. She could touch him. Staring at him, she let her fingers roam over his face, soaking it in. He held her cheeks, traced her brow, fingered her curls. Hermione smiled, and he smiled back. They never said a word, they weren’t needed.

She had never felt as happy, as complete, as whole.

A loud plop made Hermione jump up. Pip had appeared in the room and as he looked at her, he smiled. Hermione had never seen the old elf smile. He had a tray with tea in his hands and as he put it on the table next to the sofa by the fire, he snapped his large fingers.

‘Pip has silenced the room. The Aurors usually make a round at 7 in the morning Miss Granger, Master Malfoy always sleeps through it. Pip bids you a good night.’

And with a nod their way, he was gone.

Draco looked at her. ‘Hermione,’ he breathed.

He got in his knees and cornered her against the headboard. He grabbed her hair and pulled it back, kissing her jawline, her neck. His other hand roamed over her body.

‘Fuck, I can’t believe it. How on earth…?’

‘The ring.’ Hermione said with a whisper. Even though Pip had silenced the room, it didn’t feel right to talk out loud.

Draco snickered. ‘My clever, clever witch. Salazar, I can’t believe I’m actually kissing you. Fuck, I love you so much. Surely I’ll be waking up in a minute, it feels like a dream.’

Hermione stilled. He never said he loved her. He never even written it. He couldn’t. They couldn’t.

‘I love you too, Draco.’

He pulled back a little and looked at her. His eyes so filled with love, his smile so open. Without any reservations. Tears escaped again. 

‘I couldn’t wait any longer. I just, I needed to be with you. I love you so much.’ She said with a hurry. As if there wasn’t enough time to say the words usually left silent.

‘Brightest Witch her Age.’ Draco smirked.

‘Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy.’

She pulled the collar of his hoodie, his face smushing against hers. And kiss her, he did. He took her breath away. Panting, her hands made their selves familiar with his body. They crept underneath his hoodie. Every ridge, every line, she felt it. Catalogued. Memorized.

Draco pulled the hoodie over his head and she looked at him. Praise Godric, praise Salazar, fuck it, praise Merlin himself,  praise them all, because this man was a fucking god. His abs rippled with his movement, shining with perspiration. The veins on his lower arms visible, his biceps flexing. The Dark Mark faded, but still visible. She didn't care. That was the past. His shoulders broad and strong. He sat on his haunches, those grey sweats doing things that were utterly illegal, and his eyes roved over her body.

‘I adore the outfit love, but could you maybe remove those stompers from my bedlinen?’ He drawled.

‘I beg your pardon?’ The statement caught her a bit off guard.

‘The shoes, they’re ridiculous. And loose the dress while you’re at it.’ Draco winked.

‘Fuck you.’

‘I hope you plan too.’ He drawled.

Quickly, she kicked of the shoes, thank god for the zippers on the side, and pulled the dress over her head. She kept her dark green lace strapless bra and panties on, and sat on her knees. Draco his eyes went wide and he groaned as he rubbed his face. Hermione cocked her head to the side and smirked.

‘See, love, this right here,’ she moved her pointer finger over her body. ‘This right here is what those sweats look like to me.’

Draco grinned. ‘I knew you liked them.’

He threw himself at her and Hermione let out a little shriek as she fell backwards. He pinned her hands above her head, holding them firmly but not tight. His other hand moved over the cups of her bra, softly caressing the swell of her breasts. His mouth hovered over her ear and he whispered.

‘I have fantasized about this moment for so long. I am going to make love to you all night. I’m never going to let you go.’

He ended his statement with a nip on her earlobe. His mouth trailing kisses downwards, covering her collarbone, her neck. Downwards, to where his hands were undoing the clasp at the front. With a pop, the contraption flew open, releasing her breasts. Draco moaned as he took one nipple in his mouth and sucked. Licked. Nipped. Kissed. His other hand peaking the other nipple, twisting it with care, rubbing it with love. His body pinning her down, her hands still above her head.

Hermione couldn’t do anything but feel. She moaned. Breathed his name. Curved her body into his.

‘Draco, please.’

He looked up at her with a smirk. She wiggled her hands.

‘I need to touch you.’ She said desperately.

His eyes turned dark. He understood. He knew. He felt the same. He let go of her hands, and they flew to his shoulders. His hair. His face. She touched him everywhere. Burying her nails in his skin. Leaving her mark.

She pulled him on his hair. Up. Up.

Feverishly she kissed him. He moaned her name as she bit his lower lip and then sucked it to soothe the pain. His hands were everywhere. Kneading her arse, her breasts. As he moved to cup her cunt, he sucked in a breath. He could feel the heat, the wetness, pouring out of her. The lace completely saturated.

‘Salazar. Hermione. You’re absolutely drenched.’ He said in awe.

He ripped away her panties with just a flick of his wrist and dove down. Before she could stop him, his mouth was on her clit. His tongue swirled around it before sucking it with care. She grasped at the sheets, fisting them. The moment she thought she needed to pinch herself, looking at his moon white hair between her legs, he bit on het clit. A gasp escaped her. He looked up at her. Their eyes meeting. And he sucked. Before he let one of his fingers enter her, he lapped at her slit and groaned in pleasure.

Mumbling about how divine she was, how good she tasted, he kissed her clit as his fingers moved inside of her. Finding that one spot, high and in front. Hermione called out his name, her hands moved from the sheets to his hair, his shoulders. She clawed him as his fingers pumped, his mouth sucked. Adding another finger, he hit the spot in the most perfect way. One of her hands moved to her breast, playing with her own nipple, the other keeping Draco his head in place. He looked up at her again, his eyes showing the absolute delight he felt. Fuck. She loved making eye contact with him whilst his mouth was on her.

‘Come.’ Was all he said. And he sucked again. Harder. His fingers pumped faster. His free hand moved from her thigh to the breast left untouched by herself and pinched the nipple. And she came. So fucking hard. She saw stars. Constellations. Draco.

She yelled out his name. Shuddering. Shaking. He let her ride out the waves, lazily lapping at her clit, slowing the pump of his fingers.

Kissing his way up, he had his devious smirk on display.

‘I am going to do that every day.’

Hermione sighed. ‘I might let you.’

‘I’m afraid you don’t have any say in the matter.’ He said dryly.

He laid down beside her, his head popped on his hand. Tracing circles around her bellybutton with his pointer finger. He took in her whole body. Just as she had done to him. Probably mapping every inch. Remembering every curve.

‘I don’t?’

‘No, it’s a matter of self-preservation. I might die if I can’t taste that perfect weeping cunt on a daily basis.’

Hermione snorted. Leave it to Draco to be dramatic about eating her pussy. She turned her body, rolling on top of him. His hands immediately flew to her arse, kneading her cheeks. The hands on this man, they were magical in their own right. Hermione loved her arse being touched, but the way he did it? Godric.

She let her knees fall beside his thighs and put her hands on his chest. She pushed up slowly, and looked at him underneath her. She could get used to this sight. His hair was even more mussed up, his lips were puffy from kissing her, eating her out. His eyes had this feral look in them, but were also filled with love.

Draco smirked. ‘Liking the view, eh?’

‘Not going to comment on that, seeing as your ego definitely doesn’t need any inflating.’

He just snickered and kept on kneading her ass. She let herself slide a bit down, landing with her center on top of his rock hard, sweat clad, erection. She began to grind, push into him. Her nails biting into the skin of his chest, her cunt leaving a wet spot on his trousers. He let out appreciative sounds as his eyes closed and he let his head fall back.

She began kissing his neck, down and down. Nipping his skin lightly. Leaving her mark. He was hers. Licking a nipple, his body shuddered. She pinched the other with her nails and sucked on it after. Her hands roaming, until she found his cock and cupped him. She felt her own wetness on the sweats. He bucked his hips into her touch.

‘Hermione.’ He whispered, his hands wrapping around her body, holding her tightly.

‘Right here, baby.’ She whispered back.

Letting out a deep breath, he grabbed her chin and pulled her up. He kissed her. Hard. Unrelenting. Her hands fought with his waistband. She needed him. Now.

He felt it too. It must be. Because he helped her and as she repositioned herself, she grabbed his cock and guided him inside. They both held in their breaths. His hands on low on her waist, his eyes fixated on the point where their bodies met. Hermione was so fucking wet, she could hear him slide in her. As she sat down, all the way down, they moaned in unison. He filled her completely. She started to move. Grind. Gyrate.

His fingers traveled upwards, cupping her breast. She held on tight, her hands on his chest. Waves of pleasure rolled through her. She let her head fall back, the tips of her hair caressing her ass, his thighs. His hand moved to her neck, his thumb against her chin.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful riding my cock.’ Draco groaned and sat upright.

Hermione panted, moaned, whined, called out for him. This position gave her more friction. Electric shocks buzzing from her core all through her body. Her movements became erratic and Draco spurred her on.

‘That’s it. That’s right, love. Be a good girl, come for me again.’

The words had her tumbling again. Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. His name fallinf of her lips a thousand times. Draco. Draco Draco. She fell down against him. Utterly spend. He was still inside her. Still hard. She could feel him pulsing against her walls.

Then, she had a moment of clarity.

‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come I’ve had a mind blowing orgasm not once, but twice, and you’re still as hard as steel?’

He chuckled. ‘I’ve had lots and lots of practice.’

Hermione pushed herself back and looked at him, confused and a little weary.

‘Fuck, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean – err – I meant I’ve envisioned this daily for at least the past three years and am well acquainted with – err – my own hand. Meaning I’ve probably built up quite the tolerance. As there’s not much else going on around here.’ Draco stumbled over his own words.

Now Hermione chuckled. She clenched her walls on purpose, making him choke a moan. He bucked his hips.

‘So, you’re telling me the real deal isn’t as good as your hand?’ Her eyebrow rose slightly, one hand on his hip. With the other she traced his cheekbone, her thumb caressing his lips. Pulling it down, wetting her own finger.

‘Oh love, you’re more than I could ever dare to envision.’ His hands snaked up her sides, caressed the soft skin under her breasts and his fingers ghosted her nipples.

She just looked at him, figuring out how to tease him some more. Her moist thumb ran over his nipple and he let out a breath.

‘I just aim to please.’ He drawled, with a lazy wink. ‘But, if you want me to come, I can come.’

He grabbed her hips and pulled her off. As she fell down on her back, he sat on his knees and turned her on her belly. Godric, she loved it when he went all bossy.

‘On your knees, love. And grab that headboard.’ He whispered in her ears as he bend over her, his hands flowing feathery light over her spine, her arms. The movement made her skin crawl, in a good way. Filled with anticipation, she grabbed the headboard, spread her legs and looked over her shoulder.

Draco sat behind her, now in all of his naked glory, on his knees. He fisted his own cock and kneaded her ass with his other hand, spreading her even more. His eyes stuck on her center, on full display for him. The way his muscles moved, the way he looked at her. Even more heat filled her body, she could feel the wetness slipping out of her. Her cunt clenched on nothing. Her thighs trembled in anticipation.

‘Bloody hell.’ Draco breathed. With one finger he traced her slit, making her whine and push back her arse. ‘Fuck, love. I can see you dripping.’ He put his finger in his mouth and sucked, hollowing out his cheeks, giving her a wicked grin.

He lined up and pushed in her with one, long, hard thrust. They both moaned. His hands grabbed her waist and he slammed in to the hilt with another hard thrust. And another. Hermione grabbed the headboard even tighter, the force of his thrusts making it necessary.

Draco bend over and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling it back. He bit her jaw gently, panting in her ear. ‘Marry me. I need you. Always.’

He let loose. He went berserk. Pounding in her as if it was the last thing he could do, the only thing he could do. Sweat beaded off of them, glistening in the dim light, making it seem as if their bodies were glowing. Glowing in their togetherness.

As he came, he roared. Like the dragon he was. His release triggered hers, she couldn’t believe she came again. Milking him, pushing back on him. Pleasure rolling through her body.

His fingers leaving marks on her waist, her ass. He kept on pumping until he spilled every last drop inside of her. As he pulled out, he fell down and pulled her on top of him, kissing her languidly.

‘Yes.’ She panted between kisses. She was exhausted.

Draco played with her curls, traced every feature of her face with his fingers. It took a few seconds before he finally realized what she said.

‘Wait, what – you’re serious?’ He said with disbelief

‘Wasn’t your question serious?’ Hermione snuggled into the crook of his arm.

‘Salazar, yes, fuck yes to marrying you but, love, you need to give me a chance to propose to you in the way you deserve. I meant it, I truly do, but it slipped out. ’

‘I don’t care Draco. I’ll marry you. Tomorrow, next week. I don’t care. I need you, too.’

Draco gripped her more tightly and swallowed loudly.

‘If I pull the right strings, cash in the right favors, I can probably move in. We don’t have to be apart anymore. I’ll quit my job. Fuck it. I saved up. I can manage two years unemployed.’

Draco snorted. ‘You know I’m still filthy rich, right? The dent the reparations made had already been filled up, investments paying out. I’m probably even richer than I was ten years ago.’

‘I’m not living of your money.’ She looked up at him with horror, her nose scrunched up.

‘It’ll be yours too.’ He kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Your ancestors will roll around in their graves. Sharing your pureblooded Malfoy money and estate with the likes of me.’

‘You mean the most beautiful witch currently walking the face of the earth? The witch I’m madly, deeply in love with? The Golden Girl who helped defeat Voldemort? The Brightest Witch her Age? The most eligible bachelorette of magical Britain? Let them roll, love. Let them spin around for eternity.’

Hermione kissed him, her cheeks flushed red from the compliments. Suddenly she was filled with energy. She couldn’t wait to plan, put everything in motion. If she took the right steps, made the right calls, Kingsley could never forbid her from moving in. Not if they were husband and wife. Others who were convicted to house arrest and married were living together too. They couldn’t refuse it.  

‘I’m going home – I don’t trust myself to fall asleep and wake up in time. We can’t risk it. I’ll set everything in motion at the Ministry. I’ll be back tomorrow night.’ She stood up and collected her things, put on her boots.

Draco sat with his back against the headboard, just as he did when she first laid her eyes on him that evening. He looked devastatingly handsome, his chest bare, one knee popped up outside of the blankets that covered the other leg and his waist. His arm rested on the knee and he raked his hair with his other hand. He watched her every move.

‘I hate that you have to go.’

Hermione stopped and looked at him. ‘Me too.’ She tiptoed towards him, held his face in her hands and kissed him. ‘You know I’ll be back.’

‘Do the rings work both way?’ He smirked.

‘They do, but,’ she looked at him as sternly as she said it, ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy you will stay in this Manor.’

‘Yes, mother.’ He drawled.

She slapped his shoulder and set next to him on the bed, putting on her shoes.

‘When you’re my wife, those are banned.’ He looked at the boots with his lip curled up.

‘These are Dr. Martins.’ She said with a gasp.

‘I don’t care whose doctor they are. My wife will not stomp around on those hideous excuse for shoes. What are you, a marine?’

‘Fuck you, Malfoy.’

He grabbed her waist, pulled her back and buried his face in her curls.

‘You just did, love.’

She could feel him smiling against her skin.

‘I really have to go now.’

Draco sighed. ‘I know.’

Hermione kissed him once more. Not a goodbye kiss. A see you in a bit kiss. They didn’t talk. Words weren’t needed. Their eyes told each other all that was important.

I love you.

She rubbed the ring on her ring finger, turning it around.

‘Via domum’

As Hermione landed in her living room, Crooks looking up with disdain because she interrupted his sleep, she sighed. She had finally kissed the love of her life. Touched his skin. Being apart from him now felt even more torturous than it did before. She missed him with every fiber of her being, every part of her soul.

She sat down at her desk, pulled out pen and paper and started making a list. Hermione Granger was marrying Draco Malfoy, sooner rather than later.

She knew it would come to pass. She knew she could make it happen. Because, love was the way.

Amor est via.