Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Verto Vitae	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 40710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter nor do I make any money or intend any copyright infringement by using the characters therein.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Draco's mind went completely blank. For a moment, the only thing he could do was convert oxygen to carbon dioxide and stare into the dark, haunted eyes before him. He could feel the cold breeze, heard the leaves rustling beyond them, an owl hooting its lament somewhere in the distance. It all seemed so surreal compared to the nightmare of the words Hermione had spewed like venom.
"What?" The words ricochet in his head until he was dizzy. "No...no…tell me you're joking. Just - just tell me…"
This couldn't be happening, this could not be happening. Every time he thought their situation could not get worse, their mission more impossible, she proved him wrong. Guilt ripped through him knowing she wouldn't be here, wouldn't be in this unbelievably fucked up situation if it weren't for him. This was so mad, so implausible, it couldn't possibly be real. He just needed to hear it from her, he needed her to smile, to laugh, to tell him it had been a joke, she was just taking him for a turn. But the horrified expression on her face was all the assurance he needed to know that this was all too real.
"What do I do?" she whispered, looking so frightened and vulnerable and so unlike the Hermione he knew. He stared at her incredulously. How could she be asking him? How could Hermione Granger not have a solution?
"Hermione, I-"
But what could he say? He had no clue, not one single inkling of how they could get out of this one. He'd taken her virginity so Blaise wouldn't find out she wasn't really Valouris…but Valouris had been a virgin all along and they wanted to use her…to birth the Dark Lord's spawn…and now Hermione was sucked into this whole damn debacle just so she could get the Dark Mark, to become a Death Eater, something she despised, something she'd spent nearly her entire magical career fighting against. To save his arse. To save Potter's. To save the world.
They needed her. It was the bottom line. Because in the scheme of bringing down the Dark Lord, this mission was the best chance they had. It could be their last. He could find out about the missing Horcruxes any day now, find out about Draco's betrayal. And every single day more innocent people died.
So though he hated himself for it, he knew it was his job in this fucked up mission to keep her going, just as it was her job to do whatever she needed to do to get that Mark. He had been given a task to keep her safe, to do everything possible to make sure she made it through these thirty-one days of hell so that they could get back and finish this whole thing off once and for all.
"Here's what we're going to do," he said after a long time, watching the trust bloom on her face, knowing she was looking to him for a solution. He could only imagine how worn she was from always having to be the person to find one. "We're going to go back to the school. You're going to go to bed. In the morning you will get up and go to class and pretend like nothing has happened. When I have an answer I will owl you. Until then, I do not exist to you. Do you hear me?"
He watched her face fall, watched her withering before his eyes. But she never looked away, her desperate gaze nearly breaking his resolve.
"Please," she breathed. He could feel her fingers digging into his forearms. "Don't make me do this…please, just take me away…I - I can't-"
"You can," Draco encouraged, squeezing her shoulders. "You have to. We need you to keep going. We will find a way to fix this."
He watched tears well in the corner of her eyes, the sight heartbreaking. "I'm so scared. Draco, I'm so scared-"
He pulled her into his arms, dragged her into his lap, held her so tight, as if he could protect her with that simple act. He loathed that he knew he couldn't, that he was the one sending her out there, to what could surely be her death. He was letting her, forcing her, to sleep with the Dark Lord, to bear his child, to take the Dark Mark, to surround herself with the darkest wizards of their time, a Muggle-born in Pureblood clothing. A pure, innocent girl who had to be a strong, black-hearted seductress.
The night pressed in on them, two completely different people thrown together by wild chance and circumstance, lost in a world not of their own with only each other to rely on. Knowing what she had to do, Draco only hoped he would be enough to get her through. She was quite literally the only thing he had in the world right now. He wished he knew what to say to comfort her but he'd never been one with words.
So, though he'd sworn he wouldn't, he tipped her head up and sought out her lips. He could taste the salt from her tears, felt the tremor of her fear, then the slow melting he had grown to live for. He tilted his head and dove in, his eyes rolling behind closed lids when she opened for him so willingly, when she caressed his tongue with hers, when she took control of the kiss and took him beyond thought and reason.
Before he lost himself completely, he pulled back. She looked a modicum steadier. He dragged the pad of his thumb down her cheek where the stain of a tear still resided.
"I wouldn't trust anyone but you to be here with me," he murmured honestly. The moment that passed between them just then was one of the most poignant Draco could ever remember having. When she finally nodded, he stood and pulled her up with him. He looked at her, assessing. Her back was straight, her head held high in defiance, determination shone once more on her face. His Hermione was back.
And fuck, she looked good in dress robes, even with her hair disheveled, her makeup ruined. Standing in the sliver of moonlight, she was the most beautiful witch he'd ever seen in his life.
Shaking the thought from his mind to stem the blood rushing south, he picked up the Cloak from where he'd dropped it, thankful it hadn't been far as it was, well, invisible. They walked silently across the grounds, Draco keeping his wand drawn as a precaution. When they neared the Quidditch pitch he stopped Hermione and wrapped them in the Cloak, tucking her under his arm for the rest of the trek across the vast lawns to the front doors.
They slipped inside but were forced to flatten against the wall when McGonagall tore down the stairs in her tartan robe, her wand aloft.
"Mr. Potter, if you are out here so help me..." she muttered and Draco felt Hermione's shoulders shaking from suppressed laughs. It seemed the staff was more than familiar with Potter's Cloak and were not enthusiastic about his rule-breaking with it. She spent several nerve-wracking minutes scouring the area but, finding nothing, closed the doors and returned to her patrol.
They made their way down to the dungeons and stopped outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Draco pulled the Cloak off and was caught off guard when Hermione stood on tip-toe to kiss him softly on the lips. He wanted to drag it out, wanted to cart her off into the room beyond and make love to her, show her she could never be touched by anyone but him. Just the thought had him hardening like a rock, his resolve cracking. Before he broke, he put a hand on her shoulder and stepped away. He kept her gaze as he whipped the Cloak back around himself and turned away, walking straight to his dormitory without looking back.
.
.
.
Hermione slept fitfully, tossing and turning with images of Draco and Blaise and Voldemort invading her thoughts, each more disturbing than the last, the dreams so horrific she woke in a cold sweat, the clock telling her it was nearly time to start the day anyways.
The week was like trying to walk through mire for Hermione. She tried to do as Draco told her. She kept to her performance, acting every inch the snotty Slytherin who was about to be handed everything she'd ever wanted in life. She walked the halls hand-in-hand with Blaise, joined the girl's giggly conversations about wedding details, drank her potions without complaint, was rude to unsuspecting Gryffindors. She barely kept up with homework, but this didn't seem to bother any of her teachers, all of them obviously used to Valouris scraping by.
But every passing minute she was finding it harder to keep the smirks in place, to not gaze longingly across the hall at Draco, to not run to McGonagall or Lupin for advice. She itched to go to the library, to research anything and everything she could that might possibly give her some idea of how to get out of this mess. But as a Malfoy she knew she couldn't hole up there like her normal self. So she limited her research to sneaking books during her patrols and reading late into the night sealed up inside her bed.
She'd seen Draco in the library every time she had gone in during regular hours for schoolwork and she knew how hard he was working on trying to help her. She could see the circles under his eyes and knew they mirrored her own heavily concealed ones. The knowledge that he was on her side was the only comfort she had. Though she was loath to admit it, she spent nearly every waking moment longing for his touch, the sound of his voice.
She was horrified when Blaise began making insinuations about another "celebration" and she was finding it hard to find excuses to blow him off. She'd already told him she didn't have remedial potions this week when he had asked why she wasn't going, so she couldn't use that excuse and with the poor amount of work she was getting done with all her worrying it was hard to blame it on the vast amount of schoolwork. So instead she surrounded herself with her "girlfriends" who were growing increasingly annoying and took to snogging him in public once in a while to hold him off. The problem with that was every single time she kissed him, she missed Draco just that much more and it was hard for her to hide her disgust at the other boy's advances.
Which would send her on a whole new spiral of despair realizing that if she couldn't get herself to enjoy kissing a very attractive and doting man and balked at doing anything else with him, how was she going to keep her composure being raped by Voldemort?
Hermione tried not to think about it as much as possible. Anytime the image would cross her mind she would shove it away and force herself to think about Draco or Harry and Ron, her parents, the Weasleys, anything as far away from him as possible. But her dreams was haunted with his red eyes boring into her, his cold hands ripping at her, the searing pain of him tearing into her, the Dark Mark blazing on her left arm. Or else she would watch herself screaming in agony, giving birth to a black, scaly child with a snake-like face, his eyes glowing as red as his sire's.
By Friday she was merely dragging her feet from place to place, so mentally and physically exhausted she could hardly keep up appearances. While she worried anxiously about her slacking performance, this all seemed to work to her advantage. Pansy, ever the dutiful puppy, threw a fit about her coming down with something and forced Blaise to take her up to see Madam Pomfrey.
After Blaise left for class Hermione was forced into a gown and fussed over by the nurse, announced severely exhausted which she blamed on the upcoming N.E.W.T's and her recent engagement. She was given a Sleeping Draught and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
When Hermione woke it was night and she bolted up in bed, disoriented. Her heart was pounding as she tried to remember where she was and why and jumped when a hand came to her shoulder.
"Relax, you're safe, lay back down," Draco's soothing voice said. Hermione looked up at him, ignored his words, and flew into his arms. She didn't think about anyone seeing, didn't worry about what he must think of her, a weak and pathetic child flinging herself at him. She just needed his strength.
He held her for a moment before urging her back down on the bed, sitting beside her.
"I can only stay a few minutes. I had patrol tonight and I'm supposed to be on the third floor. I was worried when you didn't come to lunch or dinner and caught word you were here. What happened?"
"Nothing, I'm fine. I was tired at breakfast and Pansy worked up a huge fuss about it and sent me up here. Not that I mind, it gives me a reason to keep Blaise off me for another day at least," she admitted, sitting back up as he frowned.
"She's not the only one who's noticed a change in your behavior. Hermione, we have nearly three more weeks. You need to take better care of yourself. I imagine you haven't been sleeping well so I slipped some potions from the cupboard into your bag. Take them. Stay rested, stay focused. We'll get through this, alright?"
His voice was so calm, so reassuring that she felt ashamed by her dramatic behavior. He seemed so in control it was hard to worry around him.
"How is the potion coming along?" Hermione asked to change the subject. "I feel horrid not helping you with it."
"Don't worry about it, I can get away easier than you. Not like there's much to do at this stage anyway. Just waiting, mostly."
Hermione twisted her hands together to keep herself from reaching out to him. She wanted so much to touch him, to ground herself, but he seemed so distant, so far away. It was as if he had built up a wall around himself, blocking her out.
"How about you?" she ventured softly. "Are you alright?"
He barked out a cold laugh. "Never better."
"What's wrong? Has something happened?" she worried, the look on his face one of misery.
"No, nothing in particular. But I'm going to be frank. I don't know how you stand being a Muggle-born." When she gave him a questioning look, he explained. "Every day it seems there's another fucking prat hissing some snide remark or another. I spent nearly an hour siphoning all the ink off of my schoolbooks when that fifth-year Slytherin prick Durbin sliced my bag open yesterday. Although I don't think he's laughing so much anymore," Draco snickered, glancing to a bed at the end of the ward. There lay a sandy haired boy covered in angry red boils. Hermione gasped in indignation.
"No, Draco, you mustn't!" she scolded. "You can't let it get to you, you have to brush it off! You're not you, remember? You can't be cursing students, you're Head Boy!"
"Keep your hair on, woman," he said, grinning. "No one saw me."
She gave him a stern look and he tried to bite back his satisfaction, failing miserably, and Hermione felt one of her own smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was so bloody adorable.
"You better be right."
He winked. "Malfoy, remember?"
"Granger. Remember?"
"How can I forget? No matter how much I shower I still feel dirty."
Hermione smacked his arm as hard as she could and he laughed before grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles while she tried to tug it away.
"Feisty tonight," he murmured, his lips creeping up to her wrist sending waves of heat shooting straight to her core. By the time he'd made his way to the inside of her elbow her lungs seemed to be working extra hard to send oxygen to her buzzing brain and her entire body was crackling with heat. He looked up at her, his eyes blazing with desire. When his face hardened and he started to pull back, she reached up to grab his neck and yanked him down to her, taking charge and kissing him long and deep, exploring his mouth, riding on the need that enveloped her.
With a groan he grabbed her and pressed them together, chest to chest, his hands delving into her hair, her body catching on fire. Her hands worked without thought, tearing the tails of his button-up out of the waistband of his pants, shoving under to feel his strong chest, to grab at the hard muscles of his back and bring him even closer. Grabbing his belt she pulled him down on top of her, needing that contact, needing him.
He wrenched his face away from hers, panting hard.
"We can't do this," he grated out, trying to pull away.
"Why?" Hermione asked, watching with disappointment as he distanced himself both mentally and physically. "Draco, what is going on? Why are you pulling away from me?"
He cursed and sat up, rubbing his hands on his thighs as if to gather himself. "Hermione, we can't do this."
"Do what?"
"This! This, whatever it is!" he spat exasperatedly.
"And what is it, exactly?" Hermione snapped, feeling the first twinges of anger and hurt. Did he not want her the way she wanted him? Did he regret what they'd shared? Had he done it simply to help her?
She suddenly felt naïve and humiliated. Of course he didn't want her. He could have any woman he wanted, why would he lower himself to the likes of her? He'd only done what he thought was necessary for the cause...
"I don't know," he admitted lowly, looking so lost. "Every time I'm around you…I can't think. Like now." She could see the corner of his mouth lift slightly, his face miserable. "And we have to keep on task. We can't afford to be distracted. You distract me, everything about you is just…it's easier if we just keep to the plan, nothing more. I need to keep my head about me."
"And I need to know that there is still some good in this world," Hermione argued. "That there are still things worth fighting for. You showed me that. I'm stronger with you around. I don't feel so alone."
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I'm here with you, Hermione. Nothing is going to change that. We're in this together, the whole way. I don't want to let you down. That's why we can't do this, I can't lose control-"
"But sometimes you need to, Draco. Why fight it?" She put her hand on his arm and watched him stiffen, his eyes roving away from her.
"It's more complicated than that."
"It doesn't have to be. Draco, I'm not asking anything of you. If you feel for me as I do for you then that's all there is and there doesn't have to be anything else. I need you, Draco. But if you don't feel the same I - I understand, I-"
His lips crashed down upon hers as he pinned her to the bed, his hands all over, his mouth taking hers ruthlessly. She gasped in shock at his sudden change in demeanor, though was in no way going to resist. She gave herself to him, showing him what he meant, giving him everything she had.
"Gods you drive me fucking mad," he growled, tugging her gown up, shoving his hand between her thighs as she tried to give him room on the tiny bed. His fingers drove up into her already soaking channel and she moaned, his other hand coming to cover her mouth. She remembered where they were and that she had to be quiet, but she quickly forgot as he pumped her, setting her to flame. "I need you, I've always needed you. Fuck, I need you now, right now."
She nodded as he still had her mouth covered, preventing her from answering, and tugged at his belt frantically, the two of them working his pants down and off. He whispered words she couldn't hear as he settled between her legs, removing his fingers and replacing them seconds later with himself, filling her, stretching her beyond endurance, the sensation making her groan loudly, all thought of anything other than him completely obliterated. He moved deeply inside her, her body igniting at his intrusion.
Hermione wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, digging her face into his strong shoulder as he worked her, his every movement sending waves of heat cascading through her, dragging her up until she she no longer knew who she was. He kept her there, not letting her fall yet, slowing his pace until she was a puddle in his arms, his lips smirking against her neck as she writhed beneath him, begging for release.
Suddenly, he rose up onto his heels and pounded into her, shoving her roughly into oblivion, her silent screams ringing through her head, the pleasure so intense she worried she might simply burst into a million pieces.
But he didn't stop there, bringing her back up quickly before pulling one of her legs over his shoulder to change the angle, to thrust deeper, to take her further. And when he tugged up the other leg to match the first, practically folding her in half, she thought she'd die at the incredible pressure, his hand slapping back over her mouth again as she whimpered, grabbing at him to drag him closer, begging him with her eyes for more because if he stopped, oh gods, if he didn't-
He did. He took her hard and fast, working her until her eyes were rolling back, her nails digging into the mattress for purchase as her vision broke apart, the orgasm ripping through her as powerful as the first.
She couldn't move a muscle when she came back down, her entire body plaint under his assault. He tucked her legs to the side, rolling her until he was lying behind her, pressing back into her, awakening her body once again. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, and she hated the clothing between them, wanting to feel his skin upon hers. But she had no time to worry about it as he thrust into her, driving her body crazy again as she pressed back against him, looking for more, always more. He didn't disappoint, snaking one hand down to her nub, working it in time with his hips which grew more urgent, more demanding.
"Draco," she pled. His teeth came down on the crux of her shoulder sending shivers down her spine at the thought that he was so crazy with need for her he could hardly contain it. He grunted softly as he pumped into her faster, harder, making her cling to him and the bed, her head whipping back as she neared the brink yet again.
"Come with me, love," he grunted. His fingers grabbed her shoulder, digging in with bruising force, but Hermione didn't even notice as her third orgasm tore through her, shattering her as he jerked against her, filling her.
They collapsed together, gasping. Neither of them moved for a time, wallowing in the aftermath of their love making. Hermione wouldn't let thoughts plague their moment and simply savored the feeling of being in his arms.
But life invaded as it tended to do and he had to return to patrol. He left quietly with a soft kiss, removing the Muffliato he'd placed, and Hermione wrapped herself in blankets that smelled of him and sank back into a restful sleep.
.
.
.
Draco ate breakfast slowly Saturday morning waiting for Hermione to arrive, barely able to register the tittering of his fellow classmates. He'd used the pressure of the upcoming exams to his advantage for his aloof behavior and as his Granger-self had always been incredibly studious, nobody dared question him. It had come to his attention that Hermione tended to become extremely volatile under these kinds of circumstances and most Gryffindors afforded him a wide berth, afraid he might snap. Potter had thankfully explained what it had been like being Leon's friend around O.W.L's and the terror of his fellow students of Leon snapping at any point gave him plenty of time alone.
As soon as Hermione sidled into the hall sparing him the tiniest of glances and taking her seat next to Blaise, he bid Potter and Weasley farewell and headed to the library where he'd spent every spare moment possible, scouring old textbooks until his eyes were practically bleeding, his fingers sore from flipping through so many pages, searching for anything and everything. Hermione had always believed one could find any answer in the written word and right now Draco was banking everything on this sole belief.
Though he hadn't quite taken into consideration exactly how arduous this research thing could be. No wonder Hermione snapped so easily. His brain felt as though it had been wrung dry between the extensive investigation, stress over the fear of not being able to help Hermione, and working harder than ever on his studies to match a Granger's level. He'd never been a bad student and had always tested well, but it was unbelievable how much Hermione took on and the amount of extra work his teachers expected from him, not to mention everyone looking to him to answer first in class, to check their work, to assist them. He could remember all too well the ridicule he'd given Hermione for always shooting her arm into the air before a question had even left a teacher's lips, the way she would bounce excitedly in her seat, ready to prove that she knew the material better than anyone. She'd always been an incredible showoff and it was becoming apparent exactly how much work it took to be that big of a know-it-all. He was having to read ahead in every class and find extra research just to meet the absurd lengths of her essays. He felt ready to drop any minute and only the image of Hermione's trusting gaze kept him going.
He couldn't believe they'd only been here for a little over a week. It had seemed like a lifetime already. Their situation was so unbelievable it was almost comical. Who would have thought sex would have so much impact on the fate of their world? They'd done the dirty deed to protect their secret and then belatedly found out it could be their very downfall. But how could they undo what had already been done? According to Hermione, every Time-Turner had been rendered useless in the Department of Mysteries during their battle in the fifth year, and even if there was one, how would they possibly get their hands on it? Besides, the logistics of going back in time in a world that was not theirs was so unpredictable it was hardly worthy of the thought.
So now he had to find a way to fix it. And when he did, if he did, what then? How was he just supposed to stand aside and let the Dark Lord rape and impregnate her? The thought made his stomach burn in guilt and anger. They could easily get rid of the bastard just as they had theirs (another image he tucked far from his concious), but the torment she would go through just to get it...he couldn't bear the thought.
He had so many questions he wanted to ask Hermione, so many things that would be easier for her to answer. But he'd been watching her and knew she was closer to the edge than he was. It was no wonder why, but he hoped he'd instilled the importance of keeping to their roles in her last night. She'd certainly seemed more relaxed by the time he'd left...
He had to admit, he himself felt so much more centered, so refreshed after their encounter. He'd slept like the dead last night, his mind not bouncing between worry and need. Instead, memories of her body writhing beneath his in ecstasy consumed his thoughts. The entire past week it had only taken one look at her in the halls to make him hard, the sight of her kissing Blaise before class to make him seethe. He couldn't stop imagining her next interlude with his ex-best friend, remembering how battered she'd been from their first round - and they hadn't even had sex. He didn't ask what had occurred; he didn't want to know. He honestly didn't think he could stand it.
He was letting his mind wander again. He heaved a great sigh and pulled the closest tome to him and began to read.
Late Sunday night had him sneaking into the Room of Hidden Things after his patrol, glancing around the familiar domain, his gut twisting at the memory of last year. Pushing back the morbid thoughts, he began his search, not knowing what he was looking for, but he couldn't quell the feeling that his answer did not lie in the Hogwarts library.
When he neared the Vanishing Cabinet, he stilled. Guilt clenched him with icy fingers, remembering what had come through it, the damage it had caused. He was about to turn away when he realized the door was cracked slightly and upon further inspection, the dust was disturbed as if a hand had pulled it open. Curiosity had him tugging it open, his brown furrowing at the sight of a book lying on a shelf inside.
Lifting the obviously ancient text, he noticed a slip of parchement peeking from between the pages. Flipping to the marked pages, the parchment fluttered out, looking very new in sharp contrast to the musty and cracked pages of the book. He stooped to pick it up, nearly dropping it when he read the words written in a shaky hand:
L-
Found this in father's library. It's so much worse than we thought. Plan must be expidited. Please help me, tell Moony I'm willing to do anything, please...
V
Bloody hell. L, V...it had to mean Leon and Valouris...they had been in contact? How had she known about the cabinet? And who the hell was Moony? He looked down at the marked page in the book, squinting in the dim lighting, trying to make out the tiny words.
What he read had him racing through the halls to the owlery, quickly writing a note to Hermione, vaguely considering having her meet him now, but it was nearly two in the morning and he wanted more time to wrap his mind around this new revelation...
Telling her to meet him at nine the next evening, he hurried to his room, sinking onto the bed, staring at the book as if it were a plague, fear roiling in his blood.
.
.
.
Draco paced anxiously waiting for Hermione to arrive. The second she walked through the door was like a punch to the chest. She was so achingly beautiful, that smile she always saved just for him when they passed in the corridors on her face. The words he'd read last night ran through his mind, dread filing him.
All his reservations flew out the window and he strode across the room to take her into his arm, kissing her deeply, possessively, branding her, finding everything and more right there in her. He hardened at her fervent reaction as she practically crawled up him for more and he silently swore that he would do everything in his power to protect her.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, he carried her to the closest table, setting her upon it. His hands went instinctively to her breasts, stroking them over her clothes, his member jerking as she rubbed against him, purring at his ministrations. It wasn't enough, he needed to feel her, have her skin against his.
They tore at each other's clothes, frenzied in their need. He didn't want to think about what it meant, didn't want to rationalize. All he wanted was to feel her beneath him, to have her wrapped around him, to sink into her and have her erase all the worries of the world.
And so they took, they gave, they felt and touched, all pounding hearts and searching fingertips. When they had finally divested each other of any barrier they simply pressed together, the heat of their skin, their mutual desire doing the work for them as their kisses grew ever more ardent, their caresses more urgent. Draco couldn't believe the desperation he felt around this witch. She drove him beyond logic until it was all he could do not to rip her to pieces and bury himself inside her like an animal.
All lucid thought was driven from his mind as she grabbed him, stroking him, pressing him to her core, her desperation making his mind going white with want. He had to see her face, had to watch her as he took her and there, just like that, watch her lose herself as he slipped inside, the feel of her hot and tight around him making him growl as her eyes closed, her lips parted on a moan. He watched her as he moved inside her, slowly, dragging out each movement, watching her breath hitch as he filled her, her head fall as he ran his hands over her when she leaned back. He saw her elbows buckle slightly when he arched up, finding that sweet spot, saw her skin flush, her nipples harden. Every inch of her was perfection. And she was all his. He saw the way she reacted to Blaise's advances, and yet under his touch she melted, crumbled, begging him for more. No one else would ever make her feel this. And he was determined to prove it.
He grabbed one of her smooth legs, anchoring her tighter so he could plow into her, her cries driving him on and on, stealing the breath from his chest as everything centered down to the single connection between them. His name fell from her lips over and over, a litany as he took her, giving her everything he couldn't in reality. He leaned over her and kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck, felt her shudder, felt her breath on his shoulder, one of her hands at the back of his head, pulling at his hair, her hips rising to meet his. He groaned when she bit down on his shoulder and he pressed on harder, deeper, felt her tense beneath him, knew she was balancing on the edge. He sent her careening over, her screams filling the room as she pulsated around his member, the incredible sensation more than he could stand. He followed her, allowed the dam to burst and he watched the world explode around him while she clung on, bringing him back to earth.
When the room settled he pressed her back and collapsed against her chest, burying his face between her breasts, nuzzling in and making her giggle. He closed his eyes in momentary bliss as she played with his hair, the caresses on his overly sensitive scalp sending him into a stupor.
He turned his face up to hers after a while and watched her smile lazily before she bent down to kiss his forehead. And even though his legs were aching from their prolonged stance, it was the most serene he'd felt in a long time. The only times he could remember even feeling near to this had all been with Hermione. That thought unnerved him enough that he pushed away from her, but she looked so sated and happy that he couldn't bring himself to spoil her good mood, so he leaned down and kissed her softly.
"This wasn't exactly what I brought you here to do," he grinned.
"Oh?" she simpered saucily. "And I'm to believe you had no thoughts of ravishing me at all?"
"Well…"
She laughed and he joined her before finding his robes and digging out his wand to clean their mess before tossing Hermione her clothes. He snuck one last look at her luscious body before she was covered and dragged on his own clothes before he tossed her on the floor to have another go at her.
Smoothing her mussed hair Hermione turned to him. "So if you didn't bring me here to slake your lust, what did you bring me here for? We can't do anything with the potion for another week and a half."
His shoulders tensed at the harsh reminder of why he'd summoned her.
"It's not the potion. Maybe you should sit down," Draco murmured. He hated having to bring the issue up when she looked so calm, but they needed to focus. They were here to work.
Sighing, he went to his bag and pulled out the old and dusty book, nodding to Hermione to take a seat when she continued to stand there staring at him curiously. She sank down and he could tell by her vacant expression that she was preparing herself.
"I found this last night and I have a feeling it may have something to do with our situation," Draco said, opening Non Innoxia Tenebris to its marked page and laying it in her lap. He purposely left out the note which had led him to this discovery. He wasn't sure why, but he needed to figure out who Moony before burdening her further.
She was silent for several minutes while Draco paced, glancing to where she sat reading, studying the changes in her features. Finally, she heaved a broken sigh and looked up, her face wan.
"It would certainly make sense," she relented, her voice small. "But where in the world did you find this? It couldn't have been in the Restricted Section." She flipped through the pages of the gruesome spells and potions wicked wizards had created hundreds of years ago.
"Room of Requirement," Draco answered. "Spent plenty of time in there last year, thought I'd give it a try. When I found this...it seems more plausible than the Dark Lord's sudden urge for children. Didn't you find it odd that the Dark Lord has never had any familial connection and yet now he suddenly wants a child? He doesn't exactly seem the parental type."
"You're right and I've thought the same thing," Hermione agreed. "According to Dumbledore he prides himself on standing alone. His minions are only necessary; he knows he cannot rule alone. Harry's greatest weapon over him, his only one, really, is his ability to love, something Tom always sneered at. Voldemort certainly wouldn't want the nuisance of a child to weigh him down. So why impregnate Valouris?"
"Which is what caught my attention about this," Draco said, drawing up a chair next to her. "What I understood is that this spell will essentially allow a male to use a female's womb to provide a sort of capsule for their power. Sort of like a medieval Horcrux, I guess. But I don't exactly understand how it works."
"Because it's not a Horcrux at all," Hermione debated. "The principle is similar: taking a piece of yourself and putting it into something else for safe-keeping in case something happens to your body. But a Horcrux is an object containing a piece of your soul. He wants to bottle his power, his magical power…it's like he can copy/paste it…this is unlike anything I have ever seen before…"
"Er, 'copy paste?'" Draco asked, confused at her phrasing. "I didn't see anything about paste…"
"No, no, no, it's a Muggle saying," she explained distractedly and he could practically hear her brain whirling. "It means he wants to make a replica of his power, to duplicate it. With a Horcrux you are ripping your soul into pieces…with this he can bottle his entire power into something else and yet keep it the same within himself. The trouble is…only a wizard can contain the power of a wizard. You can't, say, put your powers into a jewelry box; it runs through your blood, your very essence. So he would need a human-like form to contain it, but not something sentient, not something with its own will. This thing they call an Arcavi, it's…it, well it's like an underdeveloped human. It's sick, twisted…"
She pressed a hand to her stomach, her face going pale as her eyes whipped back and forth across the pages, disgust marring her features. "It wouldn't have any mental functioning outside of its magic, it would be like a mannequin, only responding to the instruction of the creator. His 'child' would essentially be an incredibly powerful, emotionless drone. And of course he would want to use the purest blood he could find…what better than a Malfoy?"
When she looked up at him he could see the horror in her eyes. "Gods, Draco…you don't think - he can't be thinking of making this in the real world? In our world?"
Draco didn't see why he wouldn't want to try. A brainless version of himself he could wield by command? Draco could only imagine what the Dark Lord could do with that sort of omnipotence. Two Dark Lords, one invincible unless they killed Nagini...
"I suppose the only question is who," Draco finally said.
"Indeed. Only one possible problem with that, however…"
"Which is?"
"How many of-age Pureblooded virgins do you know?" Hermione questioned skeptically.
Draco snorted. Wracking his brain though he tried, he couldn't think of a single one, even Bulstrode had gotten Goyle to seal the deal. "Well, we might be safe for a while," he chortled darkly, though he felt no humor. "He'll find one though, if there is one. Wait, why does the girl have to be an of-age virgin?"
"Well, she has to be of-age because there needs to be consent for the magic to work. Some sort of mutual agreement or bond for the transfer of power," Hermione explained, looking back at the book. "And, well…I am guessing Valouris doesn't quite understand the entire process..."
"What do you mean?" Draco didn't like the dead sound of Hermione's voice.
"What else?" she asked sardonically, looking up at him. "Virgin sacrifice."
Draco gaped at her. "You have got to be kidding me."
"You didn't finish reading this, did you?" she asked offhandedly.
"No, I could hardly get through the first page," Draco admitted. The Old-English writing style was not one of his strong points.
"I don't blame you. This whole idea makes me ill," Hermione said, obviously presuming he'd stopped reading because of the offensive material rather than the complexity of it. And he wasn't going to correct her. "What kind of demented person could do this? I mean, obviously him…but who could even think up something as repulsive as this? What in the world would they need it for?"
He couldn't fail to notice her hand was still on her stomach and he knew she was thinking of what had resided there for a brief twenty-four hours. They hadn't spoken about the incident but he could only imagine the turmoil she was going through. He wished he could say something to let her know that she wasn't the only one who thought of what might have been, but there was too much to worry about in the here and now to dwell on the past. For one thing, if Valouris was supposed to be a virgin sacrifice…
"So if he was just going to kill Valouris off, why would he betroth her to Blaise?" he asked, feeling as though he were trying to untangle a particularly stubborn knot that had no foreseeable end.
"Well, I can't imagine your parents would have been thrilled at this idea, though I highly doubt they have any idea Valouris will be killed in the process. It was likely a bartering tool. An important connection between those lines, for monetary purposes, I can only imagine, and he could use their daughter. Not that he had to ask, but he probably saw the advantages to such a match as well as their cooperation, a ploy for them to focus on while Valouris slowly grows weaker. He plants his power in her and by the time they get married she'll be constructing the Arcavi. She'll be dead before she can decorate her little cottage in the country." Hermione's monotonous explanation shook Draco to the core.
"But why kill the woman who, well, made the thing?" Draco asked, hoping she would say something ridiculous that he could find a way around. Because there was no fucking way she was dying on his watch. He wouldn't even consider the idea.
"The process alone will kill her. A person cannot contain that much power, we aren't made for it. Her body would not be equipped to deal with something like that growing inside her; it would suck her dry, for lack of a better term. This isn't a normal baby we're talking about, but raw power sheathed inside the shell of a human. I can't imagine she'd make it more than a few weeks…"
"That's not going to happen," Draco snapped, seeing the darkness growing behind her eyes, knowing she was imagining the worst. "We'll find a way out of this. He is not going to plant that fucking thing inside you."
"And how do you suppose we get out of it?" she exhaled, her voice now edging on hysteria.
"I don't know yet, but we will, we'll figure it out-"
"Draco, be realistic here!" she cried. "We have less than two weeks until the fifth! How do you suppose we figure out a plan that won't blow our cover that will get me out of this in that amount of time?"
"Look, we've gotten out of tough situations before," Draco soothed. "We'll get out of this one. If anything, we'll run. We'll take the potion and hide out until we can get back. It's the same thing as what's happening on our side, isn't it? I've gone to ground, you're mysteriously missing. Our counterparts will do the same. We'll just act the part until next Friday and then we'll run."
"We can't," she lamented, shaking her head. "What about the Dark Mark? Or have you forgotten why we're here?"
"Shit!" he groaned, scrubbing his face in frustration.
"We'll just have to go through with it," she said determinedly. "I'll get the Mark and-" she swallowed hard. "-the Arcavi and we'll go home and get all of this done. According to the book the stronger the will of the woman, the stronger her magical core, the longer she can survive while carrying it. And I'm damn well not going to die until we finish Voldemort off once and for all."
"You're not going to die at all!" Draco roared, grabbing her out of the chair and pulling her up to his face, the book falling to the floor. "Dammit Hermione, you are not going to die for that bastard! I won't let you! You are not going through with this! I will knock you out and force you into hiding if I have to! This isn't what we came here to do!"
"Draco, I have to get that Mark! How else will we complete the rest of this mission?" Hermione rasped, her voice growing weak at the prospect of her imminent death.
"I will fucking take it like I should have all along," he demanded, his chest tight. "I never should have fucking dragged you into this. If I hadn't been so selfish-"
"Draco, you know it's more than that!"
"It is now!" he spat angrily. "We could have thought up some other plan, but I didn't care, all I cared about was that it wouldn't be me. But not anymore. You are not going to take the fall for me, not this time."
He watched her eyes well up and she leaned up and kissed him, her lips warm and comforting. Draco slid his hands up her arms to cradle her face, to hold her there for just a moment more.
"I want to do this," she whispered, her lips still against his, her hands on his chest. "I need to, Draco. Please, understand that. This is my mission. You're just along for the ride. I don't care if you think you were pawning this off on me. I took this task because I needed to. I need to know that I am worth more than the bookworm I've made myself out to be. This fight is my fight, the fight for my kind. How could I possibly support this war and not take part? And not just take part, but lead. If you care for me at all you will stop fighting me about this and help me live long enough to get his done."
Draco felt as though she were literally ripping him in two. How could he stand aside and let her do this, watch her die for the Dark Lord's advancement? On the other hand, he understood her need to do this - it was the same as his. It wasn't about proving to other people, but to themselves. And he knew he couldn't live with taking that from her.
So what did he do now? The mission was the most important thing, it had to be. So they would complete their mission. She would get the Mark, even if he hated himself for the rest of his life for letting her do this for him, but there was no way in Hades he was letting her be used as a retainer for the Dark Lord's sick powers. He would stop it at any costs.
However, there was no reason she had to know that...
"Alright," he murmured. "We'll do this. But we do it my way, no exceptions. Deal?"
She nodded. "Deal. I trust you."
You shouldn't, he thought to himself. He rubbed her cheek lightly with his thumb, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "You should get back. Take the Sleeping Draught tonight."
"I will," she promised. Then she wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged him, a gesture so foreign he hardly knew how to react. Sure, she'd hurtled into his arms out of fear or need, but never like this when there was no immediate danger. So he held her back, blinking in confusion when she kissed his cheek and departed, wishing him sweet dreams. He wasn't even sure he'd replied with actual words, his brain not functioning at proper capacity.
Swiping his bag off the table Draco made his way to the Gryffindor common room, Weasley hailing him over as soon as he entered. Settling himself on the couch next to the redheaded imbecile, he dug out his DADA homework and began plotting how to save Hermione.
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XOXO
RynStar15
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