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His Relinquishment	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 70407 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Jk Rowling, I do not make any profit in writing this story what so ever. I am just having some fun.

Chapter List
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It didn't matter how much soap Hermione applied to the bathing sponge, she couldn't get rid of Malfoy's scent from her skin. She scrubbed aggressively, growing frustrated by it.

She cried to herself, having little idea how to escape this terrible predicament. She was tired of what the spell was doing to her. It made her sick to even think about the lusting for Malfoy that it was forcing her to have. Her body literally betrayed her, reacting to his touch, and her mind was no better, often having explicit thoughts of him, warping them into 'fantasies'.

'At least they aren't actually real,' she thought with determination, irritating her skin into a burning redness with a vigorous attempt in ridding it of the man's smell. It lingered, as if physically clung to her body.

She hated him! She hated him so much!

Hermione gave up on getting Malfoy's smell off her when the water was cold, and her fingers and toes were wrinkled like prunes, getting out to towel off and dress. She had a passing thought that perhaps making her smell like him was part of the spell's doing. She shivered in disgust and shook the towel angrily through her bushy hair.

Hermione reached for her clean set of bathrobes, tilting her head in confusion when she saw that it wasn't where she had placed it next to the sink on the bathroom counter. She made a quick search with her eyes, thinking she may had set it somewhere else, but the bathroom was bare of anything to wear.

Wrapping the towel around her body, she opened the door to the bathroom, stepping into the bedroom. The bathrobe wasn't on the bed, in the sitting chair, or on the dresser. It was nowhere in sight.

"Bobby?" she called the house elf that seemed in charge of the cleaning duties in the suite Hermione had been locked up in. Bobby had refused to allow Hermione to clean the rooms she was residing in, stating that her master would be angry with her if she didn't do her job.

"The Mistress shall not clean. The Mistress shall just focus and keep the Master happy," Bobby told her when she had offered to help, repeating it exactly that same way every so often, as if to remind Hermione of it.

"If he's not happy, that's not my problem," Hermione huffed.

"Bobby disagrees, Mistress. Bobby is sorry, but it is up to you to make hims happy. Yous Master's wife. Yous his mate."

"Not by choice!"

Bobby didn't respond that. She tilted her ears downward and scurried off, busying herself with her work.

Bobby popped in on Hermione's calling of her name. "Mistress has called?"

Hermione sighed, just like any other elf she had met, Bobby refused to call hermione by her name.

"Would you happen to know where my bathrobe went?"

Bobby shifted her feet uneasily. "Master told Bobby to take it away, Master says that Mistress has stuff to wears in hers wardrobe and doesn't need to wears bathrobes like it is new fashion statement." With this, the elf grinned, mildly amused by her Master's term.

"I'm not wearing that yellow dress, if that's what he's meaning," Hermione said firmly.

"Oh, noes, Mistress!" Bobby squeaked excitedly. "Master had Bobby put clothes in there for yous. Come see!" The energetic little elf took Hermione's hand and lead her to the ancient looking wardrobe and opened the doors to it, revealing an abundance of dresses.

Hermione hitched her breath, having not seen so many different vibrant colours in years— white, uncoloured clothing was the least expensive to buy. It had been so long since she wore such colour, such beauty.

And that was just for starters: the materials the clothing was made from were of ones she had only ever read about in books or seen on the telly and in magazines, fine clothing that wealthy and important people wore.

Not people like... her.

"Is this..." she trailed off in awe, fingering a dress with golden buttons. Upon closer observation, she learned that her first thought was true: they were made of real gold. She let the piece of fabric fall from her hands, backing away.

It couldn't be right... It had to be a mistake...

"Well, tell me what you think."

Malfoy's voice made Hermione jump at least mile. He was standing at the threshold between the bedroom and the sitting room, leaning against the jam with his arms crossed, watching her intently.

Hermione's gaze went back to the fancy expensive clothing, needing to avoid from looking at him for too long, afraid of what she might do if she did. As it was, her pulse started racing wildly at the knowledge of his presence. The smell of him stronger now that he was near.

She wet her lips, gathering the nerve to answer him. She lowered her eyes and spoke, "They're... magnificent," she told him truthfully. "But where's my real clothing? What am I actually going to be allowed to wear?" Hermione rose her eyes up to look him in the eye. "You're not really going to permit me to wear this, so quit playing around. I don't like games, Malfoy."

"You thought I was going to make you wear a bathrobe for the rest of your life? That's hardly the appropriate thing to wear outside, is it? Or even out of this room."

Outside? Out of the room? He was going to let her out of here? When? And why? What was he up to? Did she have to go back and see Voldemort again...?

She backed up a few steps at the thought of having to see that monster again, stopping when she hit the wall. "I don't want to go," she whispered hollowly. "Just kill me now. I won't go back!" Hermione's voice rose in determination. "I'm serious, Malfoy, I won't go back there! Not after..." She didn't finish, shuddering in fear, thinking about what had happened there.

The fear, the pain, the red, evil eyes.

"You're not going back there," Malfoy said. He stayed where he was, watching her closely. "Not unless He summons us, but I doubt he'll ever wish to see you, as long as you do as you're told."

Hermione was shivering now. His words helped her none. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, trying to warm herself up from the sudden chill.

"Granger?"

Swallowing hard, Hermione met his eyes. He looked at her impassively. She could not read any sort of emotion from them.

"You're not going to wear that bloody bathrobe as an everyday wear."

Her eyes settled on a red and silver dress made of silk. If it were any other time in her life, she would have gladly ran to that dress, squealing happily, and slipped it on.

But she didn't want to wear anything like that. Not if it came from Malfoy. Malfoy was up to something, and anything he wanted her to do she was against— what did he want in return anyway? What was he scheming?!

"I don't want anything from you," she bitterly informed him.

"Oh?" he asked. "Then in that case..." Her towel completely vanished from her body, leaving her stark naked, standing there, shocked.

"Give those back!" she shrieked.

"You don't want anything from me, Granger," he repeated her words with a shrug. "I guess you'll be running around in the nude from now on." He stepped into the room and walked to her.

"Get away from me!" she demanded and made to dart around him, but he caught a hold of her wrist, pulling her to him. Malfoy's hand skimmed her sleek back, making her body flush with goosebumps.

"It's going to be great having you naked all the time," Malfoy said under his breath, pulling her close to him, ignoring her struggles and pleas.

"Malfoy!" she screamed. "Don't! Let me go, please!"

"I'll be able to grab this—" He gripped her ass hard, squeezing it, letting out a growl. "—anytime I want."

Hermione pushed against him to try and break free, but his hold was a tight one, chest to chest. She lifted her leg to kick him and was unsuccessful, as he had somehow sensed she was going to do it, blocking her leg from the area she had been aiming for.

"You're not playing a very fair game, Granger, and I thought you just said you don't like playing them?" he scolded her, teasing. "No matter, it's not one you're going to win at anyway." He then leaned his head in to delicately flick his tongue to the skin of her shoulder.

Her stomach flipped in excitement. She felt her knees turn to jelly, and Hermione clutched onto Malfoy for support, gripping his shirt, even though he was holding her firmly to him.

Her body wanted more than a a quick swipe of his tongue. It wanted him to explore her, from head to toe, with that sexy, wet tongue of his.

"Don't," Hermione pleaded, mustering up some self-control. "Please don't!"

"I thought you wanted to stay inside all day," he argued, murmuring against her ear. He pressed into her, making her feel his sudden growth against her leg. "What do you think I'm going to do, having a naked woman in my home twenty-four seven?"

Hermione yelped in surprise to him roughly pinching her ass, then he sunk his teeth softly into her neck, nipping at her, before sucking on it. He snatched a hold of her hair when she wailed and tried pulling away from his assault.

"I'm going to fuck her brains out is what I'm going to do," Malfoy whispered against her ear, fogging it up with his hot, damp breath. Hermione felt a wetness trail out from beneath her legs. She closed her eyes, embarrassed that she was growing aroused by his touch and voice.

He whirled her around, slamming her up against the wall. "No, please!" she begged, her cry slightly distorted, since her cheek was mashed up against the surface of it, making it hard for her to move her jaw.

"That's what's done to women who parade in the nude all day," he told her as he squeezed each of her breasts into his hands, and then proceeded to pinch her nipples.

Hermione almost moaned to the shock of pleasure that ran throughout her body.

Almost.

Malfoy tugged the hair at the back of her head. She gasped as he pulled it back toward him as far as he could without harming her. "So, my naked wife, would you like to wear the lovely clothes I have specially ordered for you, or would you rather I just fuck you until you can no longer think properly?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lip to keep her from giving in to his offer to fuck her. Her insides were a fluttering mess. She ached to be touched, and she wanted the sweet pressure of his hard penis buried deep into her, just like what had been done the night before.

But she really didn't want it. It was the spell that was making her crumble like a brittle biscuit.

"Hesitation," he purred in delight. "You're liking this, are you, Granger?" he taunted her, bucking his hips at her ass.

Hermione shut her eyes to the thought of his hard penis. A slight whine came from her throat, but she was able to keep herself from pressing back into him.

"You like it rough, Granger? I should have known." He pulled her hair a bit more.

"No, don't, Malfoy!" Hermione finally found her voice, stopping him from going further. "I don't," she said hastily. "I don't like it! It's just the spell! It's drugging me!"

"An excellent effect of the spell, indeed." Malfoy growled huskily, trailing a hand down the side of her body. "Get dressed or get fucked," he ordered abruptly, pushing himself away from her.

Shakily, she hurried away from him, relieved to have some distance. He watched her closely though, making her feel uncomfortable.

"Can't I have privacy while I do it?!"

Malfoy pursed his lips in annoyance. He gave her a short nod and made to leave the room. "Shoes are in the closet," he informed, and then he was gone.

Hermione took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. She was glad to know that he still had some self-control. How long that was going to last she didn't know, hoping she wouldn't have to find that out.

She looked through the wardrobe, searching for something not so... extravagant, but it seemed that all Malfoy had bought her were fancy, flamboyant dresses that would bring attention to her.

She finally choose the plainish one she could find. The mid section was very pale pink with no designs, though it was made with a fine silk and had white sleeves. The length of the dress was also white, flowing at a prudish length. She'd have to pick the bottom up to walk, but out of all of them, this one was the one that fit her choice of fashion the most— even though no one would likely recognize her if they would happen to see her in it.

Choosing the shoes were even worse. She had never seen so many gems in her life: diamonds, sapphires, rubies— the list of expensive jewels went on and on.

But way back, in the far depth of the massive sized closet, she found a pair of white flats without any jewels. The leather was probably made from something rare and nearly extinct, but since she wasn't absolutely sure of it, she shoved them onto her feet, wincing as she stood up, feeling the uncomfortable feeling of new shoes cutting into her skin.

Now that she was dressed, Hermione wasn't sure what to do. Was she supposed to call Malfoy back in, letting him know she was finished? Or just sit and wait for him to return? It had been twenty minutes since he had left her alone. He obviously had something planned for her, and not knowing the details was driving her mad.

She decided to call him back in, curiousity gaining the best of her. She was unsure if he was even close by, but Draco had many house-elves who would alert him of her calling his name, this she had been told a few times over by the elves who would talk to her.

The wait for his turn only made her more anxious, desperately wanting to know why he had wanted her to dress up.

The need to know every little detail was going to end up being the cause of her death one day.

*/*

Draco had taken Granger's 'moment of privacy' to step into a cold shower. He sucked in deep breaths as the ice cold jet of water, aimed at his hard, aching dick, poured on him.

He had almost lost his control. Her naked, freshly bathed body had been a bit too much for him to handle. He had almost taken her, right up against that wall, not even caring if she had refused.

The smell of her was driving him mad. The green apple scent made his insides stir. He had been able to smell her from his own bedroom across the way. That's how he had known she was finished with the bath: it had somehow seeped through the three walls dividing them.

He groaned in discomfort, shutting off the water. His dick had shrank back up, it throbbed painfully from the abuse Draco had just put it through, but he felt better than before, the threat of taking Granger forcibly was no longer a craving.

Draco dried himself off with a spell and took a potion to ward off any unwanted hardons. He'd have to wait before he could fuck Granger again. Tonight. Yes, after their dinner, he'd fuck her then. And one way or another, she was going to suck him off.

At this point, Draco didn't care what had to happen to make her do it, just as long as it was done. The thought was becoming unbearable enough to handle. He needed her mouth. Soon.

Just as he was tightening his tie, a house-elf popped in, informing him that Granger was calling for him.

Draco smirked. She wanted to see him, likely cluing in that he had daily plans with her. He pictured her pacing the floor, anxious to know what it was.

Well, since Granger was his wife, he may as well give her a little enlightenment of what to expect in the upcoming years of their marriage.

She needed to get out of that bloody suite anyway.

Review Reponses:

ArielKidd: Hehe, thank you :)

jen7: Aww, thanks so much! I am happy you're enjoying it! And well, have to see what goes on between these two, lol. Sorry I took so long, I have been sooo busy here, and anytime I went to write, I got interrupted.

Koi: Yeah, I am sure Hermione will find some way. And Draco, ha, yeah, he wants a willing partner. There's probably a reason he hasn't imperiused her into sex.
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His Relinquishment