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Waiting to Exhale	By : Wolfling1972 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13149 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The worlds of Harry Potter, and all properties thereof, are my playgrounds. This means that I own nothing beyond my own poorly conceived plot and OC characters. In no way am I making money from this.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: Twist, twist, twist. I do love a slow build. It makes my inner control freak exceedingly happy. With that being said what do y'all think? R&R, please.
Things had settled into a routine once Draco and Hermione returned to school. It had been his room which grew in size and she was pleased by the fact that his walls and armchair were also a lovely shade of gray. The only real changes that had happened within their shared space was the inclusion of her armoire, bookcase, and trunk. Everything else remained just the way he'd designed it, in shades of gray, pale blue and white.
But the routine never varied, except for on the weekends. During the week it was wake up, shower, get dressed, head to the kitchen, make a pot of coffee and a pot of tea, ask the house elves for a basket of fruit and some pastries and wait for everyone else to wake up. She tended to awaken at least an hour before everyone else and so it had become almost a given that she would make sure caffeine would be readily available for the groggy newlyweds. Eventually, Draco would arise, get clean and dressed before he would stride out to fix her hair, place a kiss on her nape and grab an apple and a cup of coffee. Eventually, everyone would begin to scatter.
Once the common room emptied, there were classes to attend, free periods for study, dinner in the Great Hall, before most couples headed back to their shared space for cuddles, kisses, and touches. In the case of the newly joined Malfoys, those touches grew just a little rougher with each sensual meeting. Hermione found herself looking forward to those nights when she ended up a trifle bruised, throat raw from begging. It seemed to her that her husband enjoyed those nights best, as well.
Finally, on a Saturday near the tail end of February, as the pair lay curled up together, Draco asked her something that she had not been expecting, at all.
"What's your darkest fantasy, Hermione?"
She nuzzled into him, her head pressed into the area between his chin and shoulder. It wasn't that she did not want him to know but she was unsure of his reaction and was worried that he would grow disgusted by her. Her face grew flushed, heated, and she gnawed on her bottom lip with something akin to fear.
"Hermione?" He only spoke her name but there was a hint of command within those few syllables that caused her breath to hitch.
"I am sorry. I am just worried that you will find it disturbing..."
The lean, alabaster-skinned male said nothing, only stroking slender fingers along the curve of her spine before giving her hip a rough squeeze. In warning? She did not know.
She breathed and began talking; " When I was younger and at home visiting my parents," her voice hitched on the last word, "I discovered a pornographic magazine. You know, like the Wizarding one with the moving pictures and the naked girls? Anyway, this particular picture drew my attention and I studied it for what felt like hours." She paused, gained courage and continued gamely on.
"The picture itself was of a man standing and a woman kneeling at his feet. In his hand, he held something like a leash and it was clipped to a collar which she wore. Her back was covered in these thin red stripes and her eyes, her eyes were filled with adulation. I finally ripped that picture out and buried it in my trunk." Another pause, her face now burning with embarrassment.
"Go on, tell me," Draco gently prodded.
"My fantasies have always centered around that image~being led, being told to kneel, being treated with love and care, being spanked or punished when I have misbehaved, being taken violently and then gently, being marked whether by bites or suction or a hand or some other thing I can't name. Being bound, unable to move. To have commands whispered in my ear..." Hermione trailed off and waited.
"And," he cajoled.
"This, what happens between us, is the closest I have ever gotten to what I think about, what I've always thought about, even when I was too shy and unsure to get myself off."
He chuckled, the dark sound vibrating his chest but she could tell the laugh wasn't at her. It was almost as if he had a secret, something deliciously profane. Hermione waited, her warm brown eyes closed, her body relaxed.
"Do you know that I've always~ even when I hated you, even when I KNEW without a doubt that you were nothing~imagined you bound and gagged for my pleasure. I've heard you whimpering in my mind for years. My imagination did not do you justice, by the way, but the desire for those things has been there for quite a long while."
Another chuckle, even as his hand resumed those slow strokes of her skin, from nape to hip and back again, over and over. Hermione sighed and even smiled. He did not think she was perverse and that was all that mattered.
Finally, he rolled them until he was on top of her, his lithely muscled frame nestled between her welcoming thighs. He used one hand to push her arms over her head and then gripped both of her wrists tightly before dipping his head to place a gentle kiss on her lips. His words, between kisses and bites, were measured. Soft. She whimpered nonetheless.
"I want to keep you beneath me for hours. Fuck you until you can't move, can't think, can't breathe." Here, he paused, his mobile mouth latching onto the skin of her throat and sucking, hard enough to leave a bright red mark behind.
"I want to stroke you in public places and leave you on edge all day. I want you to beg me to let you come." HIs voice was no more than a ragged growl as he thrust against her, his burgeoning length wetting itself between the swollen lips of her cunt.
"I want to make you a lady that other men desire, or even fear, but when we are alone? I want you to be my whore, always." With that, he thrust inside her, hard and fast, drawing a small gasp and a deeper moan from her lips.
Once, twice...a third time and then he withdrew, released her wrists and rolled away. His smirk reminded her of before and the expression sent a twist of desire straight through her center. Yet, she did not reach for him, did not beg him to return. She waited.
"We are going to Diagon Alley today. Wear a dress for me...but skip your panties."
Hermine nodded and watched as her husband got up and headed for their shared bathroom. A smile soon graced her features. He understood, in a way that most others would not have and so she would give him exactly what he wanted. Eventually, she knew, he would give her all that she needed.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Waiting to Exhale