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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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She looked magnificent…! She was like an angel, a princess, a goddess. When had the Mudblood acquired such beauty?

He could hardly breathe, standing there, absorbing in the sight of her, storing this image deep into his mind for safe keeping.

Because of the spell they were under, Draco adored her nude body. He was indefinitely aroused by it— the simple thought of a stiff nipple or her slick cunt made his dick hard— but he never had expected her to catch his attention while she was clothed, covered completely from her shoulders down to her feet.

Oddly enough, Granger had chosen to wear one of his favourite dresses that he had ordered for her. It wasn't a provocative one (proper wives were not to dress too revealing outside their homes. Many men died in duels over such skimpy attire worn by women. Then again, it also was an unspoken rule applying to the husbands too). It was the pink one. He absolutely admired a woman who wore pink. It was a bright, cheery colour, appropriate for a woman who was attached and unsingle. It made them appear happy and fun-loving— a reflection on her partner, be it boyfriend or husband. It brought out her beauty— her womanly figure.

Ah, so that was why she was so sexy, he discovered. It was the feminine colour of it.

His cock twitched in excitement, the effects of the potion he had just taken was now null and void. Draco pursed his lips and forced himself to look up from her concealed breasts, shutting out the thought of his face being planted between them.

He couldn't allow himself to lose control.

Oh, but it was so bloody difficult! Now all he wanted to do was throw Granger onto the bed and bunch up her expensive dress, pulling it above her hips. He wanted to explore her delicious, glorious heat with his fingers and tongue, all the while, with her silky, smooth legs tightly wrapped around him.

He wanted to taste her, to mischievously toy with her sensitive flesh. He wanted her to whimper and scream out his name.

He desperately wanted to fuck her until she begged him to stop, until she couldn't move .

But he couldn't. Well… he could physically do it, obviously, and he could do exactly what his body yearned to do and bury himself deep into her tight, wet hole, but that's not what he had been planning to do that day, not right then anyway. And he was a stickler to plans. If he reacted on lust alone, he'd get nowhere with her.

He'd be no better than Blaise was with his wife, using her simply as a sex object; a slave.

Draco wanted more than that with his own wife though. Granted, his choice wife really wouldn't be the filthy, Mudblood Granger , but he was stuck with her either way. He'd prefer if they could at least manage a mutual understanding of each other.

She knew he wasn't a rapist— or one by choice— and he planned on using that tiny bit to his advantage.

If only she would cooperate. That was the problem with her. She knew neither of them had no choice with their marriage arrangement, yet she still refused to do it without a fucking fight. Why did she have to fight with him so much?!

Besides threatening her, what else was Draco supposed to do in order to get the deed done? Potions tended to mess with fertility levels, and the—

Draco swallowed uneasily. He had made threats about it. He had said he was going to spell Granger into submission if she didn't comply with his orders. In reality, he wasn't too sure if he had the guts to follow through with the threat. No one knew this— no one— but he couldn't get hard over an Imperiused woman sucking him off and doing a list of other things while under the spell.

He had tried it once, as practice, when he was still new to the spell, making a true effort to learn it. Pansy had willingly volunteered to be his guinea pig upon his suggesting of it. She would have practically done anything he had wanted of her at the time.

She trusted him wholeheartedly. She knew he was capable of success.

When he had cast it, her eyes became unfocused, lacking life. It had terrified him, watching her approach him like some inhuman, possessed monster. He didn't even allow her to get so far as unzipping his pants.

No.

That was just too… creepy . He had nearly shuddered over it.

Pansy had asked what was wrong. She had been afraid that she had done something to fuck his concentration up, but he stroked her hair gently and told her that he had changed his mind.

She pouted, upset that she hadn't got to do anything to please him, ever the properly brought up pureblood: obedient, eager to please those she cared for.

So he permitted her to carry on what he had originally wanted, under her own control.

He liked it better that way. It was lively and exciting. It was personal and natural.

It was enjoyable .

There was a small list of things he found that could bring him pleasure. That was one of them.

"Could you stop looking at me like that?!"

The snap of her voice brought him out of his thoughts. Draco straightened his shoulders, realizing that he was allowing her mere presence to gnaw at his ability to control himself. He was not an animal, he was not a monster, he wasn't Blaise, or Goyle, or even the Dark Lord Himself. He was Draco Malfoy, and he had control over himself. He could manage being close to her without indulging into his urges.

Couldn't he?

Draco swallowed hard, resisting the urge to readjust his slacks at a specific part of his body. He wanted— no, he needed, he ached — to be touched, to be stroked, to be fucked .

He could stay sane under such pressure, he knew, but it was going to be a bloody challenge, for sure.

"Like what?" he asked innocently, looking her in the eye, pretending as if a simple glance at her didn't send him into a series of erotic daydreams.

"Like...like..." she paused, trying to find a fitting term or word. "Like you've been deprived from any sort of food, and I'm the first meal you seen in ages!" Granger visibly shuddered. She did that a lot, Draco had noticed. She was often uncomfortable with what was going on, unable to fully accept this new life of hers.

You'll adjust, my little, sexy Mudblood. Eventually, you'll fall into the endless pit like I have and crave for my touch. You will sit, and wait for me to come to you, and my darling wife, you'll want me to kiss you, to take you to another land, fulfilling your every desire for pleasure.

And I will, Granger, but first, you must want it. You must need it. And I'm not going to do it unless you ask me to.

"You know how it feels then." Draco told her, not even bothering to deny that he had been looking at her the way she had accused him of.

Their feelings for each other were practically mutual. Just the night before, she had looked at him the same exact way— just as if she was going to attack him where he stood and fuck him until he passed out.

Unlike Draco though, Granger didn't give in so easily. Not that he blamed her, it wasn't long ago that his own body had taken her virginity, the one thing she even had left of herself. She probably had been saving it for—

No, he wasn't going to think about that. It would only anger him.

"It is nice to see you dressed like a proper person who walks on two feet and not four."

His mild insult made her indignantly narrow her eyes. "I was only just given clothes to wear today!" she spat, glaring daggers.

"I provided you with a dress the other day, perhaps you have forgotten?" Draco's tone was patronizing. He knew she hadn't.

"I'm not wearing that !" Granger insisted, crossing her arms along her chest.

"You're going to wear it tonight," he told her evenly. "To the dinner party."

Granger looked at him, disbelieving the words she had just heard. "Din-Dinner party?" she squeaked. Her eyes clouded with fear, obviously knowing who was probably going to be at this party.

"We've been invited. It'd be quite rude to decline, yes? Most impolite. And now that you're a…"

He had almost choked out the next word. He needed to swallow down the uncomfortable, throat clenching pain he was having.

That mere thought… the thought of her … being a Malfoy … It had nearly made him gag…!

Granger— the Mudblood— was his wife, was now… a Malfoy… His... family .

The feeling was… confusing . He knew why that was. With the marriage spell, he wanted her, but the spell didn't make him love her, nothing could do that . It did oppress his real feelings for her though, creating a new fake ones. Ones that Draco actually enjoyed having. But since they weren't real, there was the rare chance of his true feelings emerging and bubbling out from deep within wherever feelings came from.

It meant that occasionally he could become disgusted at the thought of the Mudblood carrying his name.

Mind-washed or not, he could not stomach calling her a Malfoy. She'd never be a Malfoy to him. She was dirty, in more ways than one. She did not deserve his name. She didn't even want it!

So how could he call her a Malfoy, if she didn't want the name herself?! Draco had been taught that everyone wanted to be a Malfoy, and anyone who hated them was jealous.

And he still believed it.

Except when it came to Granger. She was different. She didn't envy people, or if she did, no one knew of it.

With her morals set in stone, she had no reason to be jealous over anybody. Besides maybe her blood type, but did that matter anymore? She was a Mudblood, who was standing in his home, the finest home amongst the purest of wizards, and he, Draco Malfoy, was her husband.

The reality of it hit him like a iron bludger right square to the gut:

No one will be Pure after my generation .

His bloodline would seize its importance, then what would the Malfoy name have?

Nothing. It'd have nothing . It would mean nothing. It would be nothing. His heirs would be just like any other wand-swinging moron out there.

In that moment of realization, everything that Draco had been taught for the entirety of his life completely sailed out the window.

*/*

Hermione stood in silence, watching Malfoy's mood change from many different ones in a short amount of time. Whatever was going on inside his mind was scaring her quite a bit.

Right now, he looked like he was disgusted with her. She hadn't insulted him, so Hermione didn't know what she had done to anger him this time.

It didn't take much to send him into a raging fit though, that much she knew.

She almost wished he would look at her with starvation again, that look wasn't as frightening. That look didn't make Hermione nearly as uncomfortable as this one did.

Malfoy's jaw was clenched tightly, his eyes were narrowed darkly. He had his fists clenched to his sides. His face was red with anger. He was about ready to pop.

Hermione, slowly and cautiously, backed out into the bedroom, step by step, not wanting to be there if he did blow up.

"Where are you going?" he demanded in a growl.

"I only need to use the toilet," Hermione told him, her voice slightly above a whisper.

His stance relaxed some. Hermione watched as he moved his shoulders around in circles, loosening them. He nodded at her response.

"Best hurry it up then. We've got a lot to do today."

She wasted no time, hurrying to the bathroom, eager to have a room and a door separating them.

He was incredibly strange. One minute, he was calm and in control, the next… he was… well, different . Distant and... dangerous .

Like the first day she had seen him after the war, just before bringing her to the Manor.

Hermione shivered, his cold angered eyes were so vivid and fresh in her mind. He had looked like he was going to strangle her; murder her with his bare hands.

Malfoy wouldn't do that though.

Not with his bare hands anyway , her inner-voice pointed out. He's definitely a wands-on sort of person . Most Pureblood were that way.

She sat there in the bathroom, giving him time to cool down. Maybe it was her presence that had made him angry. He had said it himself. The sight of her disgusted him.

Was he upset because he… because he wanted her? Was he upset at himself? Or was he going to blame her for it?

She was defenseless against him, whatever he decided to do. He had his wand. She didn't. That was a major disadvantage for her.

Oh, she'd still fight until her last dying breath, but death it would be, if he had the choice.

But he didn't. Not if he wanted to live himself. He would never dare to defy Voldemort's orders. None of his followers would. There were deathly consequences for that.

Although… what if… what if Malfoy wasn't thinking about all that? What if… his anger with her was so ruddy strong that he just… cracked ? He could hurt her, with no thought of punishment in mind, focusing on one thing alone: damaging her beyond repair.

Hermione jumped when she heard Malfoy call out to her.

"What's taking so long?!" He pounded his fist on the door, making it thud. "We're on a schedule here, Granger!"

"Coming!" She stood up from the toilet and went to meet him, not wishing to irritate him any further.

Malfoy grunted in impatience and snatched a hold of her arm, leading her out the suite.

Hermione's mind went back to fearing what was going to happen that day. The dinner party they were 'invited' to had to be no good, knowing the people Malfoy associated with.

Malfoy was saying things as they walked along an eerily lit corridor. She was not registering any of it, too much in thought of how she was going to be able to cope being around a group of Death Eaters— people who could murder someone and shrug it off, like it was an everyday thing.

Only it was an everyday thing for them...

Hermione shuddered. If He was there, she wasn't sure how she'd keep her sanity.

"Merlin, Granger!" Malfoy snapped, yanking at her arm to get her attention. "Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?!"

"I don't want to go!" she suddenly shrieked out hysterically. "Please, Malfoy!" Hermione slipped out of his grasp and backed up into something. Something odd… Something rough .

Finally she calmed down enough to realize she had been taken outside.

Outside .

What she had bumped into was a gigantic, thick tree. Glancing up— in complete awe that Malfoy had taken her outside of the Manor— Hermione noted that she was under a maple tree. Its branches were just starting to sprout little, tiny leaves; an effect of spring's approaching.

"What's wrong with you?!"

"I— uh, I'm just shocked." Hermione confessed distractedly, taking that moment to absorb the beautifully manicured yard around her.

There were many tulips of different colours, one of the flowers known for their early blossoming. Grey bricked paths snaked through the yard of trees, bushes, flowers and grass. And while each one disappeared around obstacles, she had this understanding that they went on for miles.

"You had to have thought this would happen eventually, didn't you?" Malfoy asked bluntly, looking off to where she had brought her eyes from.

"No," Hermione answered honestly. "You didn't particularly give me a decent welcoming."

"Let me remind you of who attacked who first!"

Her eyes faulted to her feet, guilty of the accusation. "I was— I had been— You killed— "

"We're not going to talk about what went on in the war," Malfoy said, a warning hung solid in his voice. "That's the in fucking past. Forget about it."

She grew angry at that statement. How was she to forget— ?! The nerve of him…!

" No ! I won't ! I refuse ! I can't — "

Malfoy closed the gap between them, securing his hand around her throat, cutting off her sentence. "Then you shall not speak of it!"

His grip tightened, making her gasp for air. The surrounding scene of nature had turned into one hue of color: grey. A second later she couldn't see anything at all.

"This is your life now, Granger!" She could hear him snarling threateningly. "You're no longer to speak about the other, no longer wish for the other, and if I hear another word about the past , you will no longer know of it!"

He let her go after that. Hermione crumbled into a heap at his feet, wheezing for gulps of air.

"Now, shall I show you the rest of our empire?" Malfoy asked blandly, using the same tone as he would if he was asking for someone to pass him the salt at the breakfast table.

He stood her up to her feet, balancing her against him. She was too stunned by his words to even acknowledge that he was taking her deeper into the glorious, ancient garden, rattling off trivial facts.

Had she heard him correctly?

Our empire, he had said.

Our …

Had he decided to share his wealth with her? Was he trying to buy her? Why, why would he consider his stuff theirs all of a sudden?

What kind of game was he playing with her?!

As he continued with the tour, voice non-stopping, filled with random facts of his family's history, Hermione kept silent, purposely not thoroughly listening to him. She was not going to make a move on whatever game this was. She was not going to accept anything he'd give her, and she was not going to consider anything that belonged to him as hers or, as he put it, theirs !

She refused to play his ridiculous, confusing, manipulating game!

He could go drop dead for all she cared!

Review Responses:

jen07: I try to update as soon as I can. Last month was just... a mess. Sorry about that, but it's good to hear you really like my story :) Hermione doesn't actually blame Draco for losing her viginity, she blames Voldemort for that. And yes, he still has blood purity issues.

GoblinKingDraco: Unicorn? Ooooh... now that's an idea... 0.o

DaFossil: Yeah, sorry for taking so long, ha! :)

wintercocis: Omg, the wait for you must have been DRASTIC, huh? Missing two updates, wow! Well, I don't want to spoil it, but this last chapter would sort of give an answer to your question, right?

ArielKidd: It has a fair amount of reviews. I am pretty much okay with one per chapter, and I get more than that. In no way do I hold it over anyone's head either. I know how hard it is to leave a decent review, and I am not against the simple two-worded ones, but a lot of authors are, and I bet some readers have been turned away from posting that. Anyway, no, The Dove series is not finished, there are three parts (the third is incomplete, but has like... 8 chapters-- I haven't finished it, because the entire thing's going to get rewritten), and I went to update the rest of the second story, and the page goofed up! Gawd, I HATE this site's formatting-- a lot! At the time, I was on my tablet, had proof read it (which is also not easy on this site, in comparison to others), and I just got really freaking angry that I had just spent all my time for nothing! So... I didn't update. But I will... when... I am up to it, it needs a good proof though. It's embarrassing to update anything that I have written from last year or before that, because the grammar is atrocious in my older stories!
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His Relinquishment