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The Tyger and The Lamb	By : crzydiamond Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42078 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter in any way. No money is being made from this story

Chapter List
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“In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare sieze the fire...?”

-William Blake, Tyger Tyger!

Preparing the Sacrificial Lamb

Draco disappeared for three days after that night, leaving Hermione both elated and suspicious. She wondered what he was planning, if he was planning anything. But his absence provided her with a much needed respite- she was free to wander the Manor without his presence looming over her like a great storm cloud.

It was two days before her twenty fourth birthday. To say she was excited would be an extreme overstatement. She was stuck in Malfoy Manor and she was positive that none of the Malfoys had any idea of when her birthday was. Not that she cared at all- birthdays were a rather overrated event anyway. It just made her miss her friends and family even more than she already did. Hopefully Draco would allow owls from them.

Hermione was sitting at a quiet breakfast with Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius was reading the Daily Prophet and Narcissa was rambling frantically about the wedding and all of things they had to get together before the nuptials.

“And flowers,” the Malfoy matriarch asked, brandishing her quill in front of Hermione's face to get her attention. “What kind of flowers would you like?”

Hermione's brows furrowed- she enjoyed looking at flowers but could rarely remember the names of them. Though one did stick out in her mind, for a sentimental reason...

A masculine voice rang out from the doorway. “Peonies.”

They all looked up to see Draco strolling into the sitting room, wearing one of his dashing business suits. His lips quirked into a hybrid of a smirk and smile before he dropped an unexpected kiss onto the top of Hermione's head, who only scowled in response. How did he know the flower?

“Draco,” Narcissa said, offering her cheek for a kiss as well. Draco complied before taking the empty chair beside Hermione.

“Peonies,” Lucius intoned, still completely absorbed in the paper. “Don't we have some in the garden dearest?”

“I believe so,” Narcissa responded. She wrote down the name of the flower. “Which color dear?”

“I don't know,” Hermione sighed noncommittally.

“Blue,” Draco said.

“There're blue peonies?” Hermione questioned incredulously.

Narcissa winked at her before writing down the color. “With magic there are!”

She continued rattling off the different categories, including table linens, table arrangements, the flavor of the cake, finger foods, lighting...

Hermione answered as best she could though she wasn't invested in it. What good was it to put so much work into a wedding for a marriage only lasting a year, to a person she didn't even love?

“And the dress,” Narcissa then exclaimed. “Oh Hermione you still need to get a dress!”

“I'd forgotten,” Hermione said somewhat blandly.

All three Malfoys turned to look at her with a slight frown.

Lucius raised an amused eyebrow. “Seems like someone isn't too eager to tie the knot.”

Hermione flushed as Narcissa turned to her husband and snapped. “Well the circumstances aren't ideal Lucius.” She then looked pointedly at Draco who was too busy glowering at Hermione to notice.

Hermione ignored him, turning her head to stare out at the gardens.

Narcissa looked between the two of them worriedly before standing up. “Hermione, we should go looking for the day. We can get a gown and that'll be the end of all this wedding planning.”

“You can't,” Lucius said, flipping a page of the newspaper. “The Greengrasses invited themselves over for tea. They'll be here shortly.”

“Cancel,” Narcissa said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Narcissa,” her husband answered. “You know its not proper etiquette to cancel a tea arrangement.”

“Its alright,” Hermione quickly put in. “I can go by myself-”

“Absolutely not!” the older witch said sternly. “I will not let you go dress shopping by yourself!”

“They wanted to know if Draco and his fiancee would be present as well,” Lucius drawled.

Hermione's eyes widened- tea with the Grengrasses? Judging by the way Astoria looked at her during the engagement party, she'd slip poison into Hermione's finger food.

“You should change.” She looked up to see Lucius staring at her with a disapproving sneer. Hermione looked down at her decidedly muggle attire and sighed irately.

“Yes dear,” agreed Narcissa. “I'll have the elves pick you out something lovely.”

“You should go change now,” Lucius then told her. “They'll be here in a quarter of an hour.”

Sighing again, Hermione stood and made her way through the manor back to her rooms.

The elves seemed to have anticipated her need for something to wear as Narcissa hadn't had time to tell them to pick out clothing. Already ironed and pressed to perfection was a peach dress with fluttering cap sleeves, a surplice neckline and a draped skirt. There was a belt that would emphasize her slim waist. As she slipped it over her skin, she marveled at the luxurious silk that flowed like water over her curves. She twisted her unruly hair into a sleek chignon. Nude pumps completed the clean and pretty ensemble.

Fifteen minutes later, she descended the stairs to see Draco already waiting for her.

“They're here,” were his only words before he led her back to the drawing room.

Hermione could see through the window that Narcissa and Lucius were already seated at a table outside, underneath a still blooming cherry blossom tree. There were four other people seated- she recognized Astoria and her mother but not the other two men.

They entered the cooling autumn air and as they approached all eyes turned from the delicate, pastel colored pastries and finger foods to them. Polite introductions were made- it seemed the Greengrasses brought a cousin who had graduated from Durmstrang around the same time Hermione and Draco graduated from Hogwarts. The second unknown guest was Mr. Greengrass who had a handlebar mustache and small, beady eyes. He looked around forty years older than his wife.

“So when is the wedding?” asked Mrs. Greengrass who had a hawk like appearance. It seemed as though her mouth was turned perpetually downward in distaste. There was a look about her, reminiscent of a youthful beauty lost with aging, hiding in the crevices of her lined, slightly wrinkled face.

“Next Saturday,” came Hermione's polite, rehearsed reply. “Mrs. Malfoy has been gracious enough to plan the affair.”

“She does plan marvelous parties,” Mrs. Greengrass gushed over enthusiastically. “Always fabulous. This'll be the wedding of the century.”

“I'm sure it will,” Draco said with a small smirk, squeezing Hermione's hand on top of the table for everyone to see. Astoria glowered at the display, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So finally, I meet Hermione Granger,” Mr. Greengrass said. His tone was blatantly mocking. “The girl who fought beside the famed Harry Potter.”

Hermione had to bite her tongue from spitting out something rude. “Yes.”

“I always wondered how a half blood boy raised as a muggle defeated the Dark Lord,” the man continued, his beady eyes glinting maliciously. “Care to elaborate?”

“Considering that Voldemort himself was a half-blood, I'm not sure how to answer your question,” Hermione answered with a wide, polite smile, forcing her wand hand to stay at her side. “But I'm sure he had a good enough chance considering he did win the war.”

“Win the war?” Mr. Greengrass asked with a slow, vicious smile. “My dear, I must say that your naivety is refreshing. He only just won the battle.”

Those words chilled Hermione to the core and she could only stare at the man until Lucius interrupted on her behalf.

“Fredrick, this isn't appropriate conversation,” the Malfoy matriarch said in the cold tone that Hermione was used to. “If you want to continue speaking about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named I'll ask you to leave Malfoy Manor.”

“Oh no no, he didn't mean it,” Mrs Greengrass said hurriedly. “You have to understand that he grew up in Germany during Grindewald's time- things were very different back then.”

The man let out a huff that heavily suggested he thought otherwise but he kept his mouth shut and his attention focused on the chamomile tea in front of him.

“On a lighter note,” said Dmetri, Astoria's cousin. “Where is the wedding being held?”

He was a handsome man with bright blue eyes and wavy brown hair that swept the tops of his shoulders. He had a more rugged look to his face than Draco, whose features looked as though they'd been carefully chiseled by a Renaissance artist.

“Here in the manor,” Hermione answered. “In the gardens since its arguably the most beautiful aspect of the property.”

''Isn't next Saturday a little too soon?” came Astoria's question. Hermione had been anticipating it and was wondering when she'd ask. “I mean, Draco just bought the contract two weeks ago, if I'm correct? Is there another reason for such a quick wedding?”

It was obvious she was implying that Draco had gotten Hermione pregnant. Everyone around the table froze.

Mrs. Greengrass inconspicuously elbowed her daughter underneath the table when she saw Narcissa's polite smile falter and morph into a small frown. “Astoria still has much learning to do concerning propriety.”

“How old are you Ms. Greengrass?” Narcissa directed at Astoria.

“I'll be twenty one in January,” the girl replied haughtily, smoothing down the delicate pleats on the front of her dress.

“Quite old to not understand proper etiquette,” Narcissa then said, her voice saccharine sweet. “Though I suppose some must learn slower than others.”

“Astoria has never excelled at studies,” answered the girl's mother who, in her eagerness to please Narcissa, had no problem in demeaning her own daughter. Astoria immediately stiffened and cast her eyes downward.

“She was always at the back end of her class at Hogwarts, despite private tutors. We just had to accept that Astoria wasn't a talented witch though we had such high hopes for her like Daphne. Not like Miss Granger here either- I heard you graduated with the highest marks in fifty years.”

“Yes she did,” Draco sneered pointedly at Astoria.

“Not all witches are blessed with brains and beauty like Miss Granger,” Mrs. Greengrass continued excitedly, seeing the pleased look on Draco's face. “Astoria will just have to get by on looks in this lifetime, unfortunate as that is. We all know that beauty won't last forever.”

Hermione's eyes were fixed on Astoria, whose pale cheeks had flushed red with embarrassment at her mother's admission of her lack of academic talent.

She could see a shimmer in the girl's eyes as she bit her lip- was she trying to hold back tears? If Hermione had been in her shoes, she would've been utterly humiliated. What mother would throw her own daughter to the wolves like that, to be torn apart at a tea party? Suddenly, Fredrick's conversations about Voldemort seemed less vicious than this one.

The pressure the girl must've felt with an older sister like Daphne, who although less stunning than her younger sister was an excellent student, had to be great. Having her faults aired out to dry had to make it worse. Hermione vaguely remembered tutoring Astoria in Arithmancy during Hermione's sixth year on behest of Daphne, who'd begged her to help out her younger sister.

Astoria had been a fourth year and needed to raise her grades. She tried hard but just wasn't cut out to excel academically. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Though academics were the world to Hermione, she knew that everyone had a talent, had something that they loved to do more than anything else. Knowing the twelve laws of Arithmancy didn't dictate whether or not someone could be happy in life.

“Astoria, would you like to accompany me to the power room?” Hermione asked, standing up. She didn't know why she was extending a helping hand to the girl- she figured it was the compassionate side of her that seemed to rear its head at the most inconvenient of times.

Astoria looked shocked and then mildly irritated. She opened her mouth, presumably to decline but bowed her head when her mother shot her an urging, narrowed eyed glare. She assented and stood up to follow Hermione back inside the Manor. Once the doors closed behind them, Astoria spoke.

“What do you want Granger? To rub it in that you're marrying Draco Malfoy? That you're smarter than me?”

“No,” Hermione said softly, turning around to face the younger witch. “I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

The pureblood lifted her nose indignantly. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

The girl's pride was evident and Hermione sighed, knowing that she'd never be able to actively get around that.

“What your mother said is wrong Astoria.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Astoria quickly snapped back, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

Hermione held up her hand, cutting her off. “I know we're not friends. We barely spoke in Hogwarts- I think I tutored you maybe four times before you quit meeting me. But I know what your mother is saying isn't true. It's cruel of her to talk about you like that, let alone in front of others.”

“I don't need pity,” Astoria spat angrily, her voice cracking horribly. “Especially not from a mudblood.”

“Its not pity,” Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes. “I would never pity you- you're too much of a self-righteous brat to pity. But that doesn't mean I don't understand.”

Astoria stared at her before using the back of her hand to wipe at a traitorous tear that fell form her eye.

“Believe me, I was tortured throughout Hogwarts. For being too smart or for having bushy hair or for having buck teeth. Or for being muggleborn. I know what its like.”

The younger girl sniffled then said, “Well your hair was atrociously large. And your teeth did need a good fixing...”

“Thank you,” Hermione said coldly, narrowing her eyes. “But thats not my point. Don't listen to your mother. If anything, I'd say it's your catty, immature personality thats a fault rather than your lack of educational excellence. Brains aren't everything- it took me some time to figure that out.”

Astoria only looked at Hermione critically before spinning on her heel to walk back out to the garden. Hermione rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in the air in defeat.

“I don't know why I even try,” she muttered to herself as she followed behind Astoria to rejoin the tea party.

The tea soon came to an end and elves popped up to whisk away empty dishes and tea cups. The party made its way inside where the family could apparate back home. The goodbyes were like the introductions- short and very polite. Dmetri took it upon himself to press a tender kiss to her hand when she held it out for him to shake.

“I hope I will be seeing you again very soon,” he purred, straightening.

“The next time you do,” Draco interuptted, a steely edge to his voice. “ She'll be Mrs. Malfoy. Keep that in mind Dmetri.”

“Oh I will,” the other man said with a small smirk.

The four Greengrasses Apparated, leaving the Malfoys and one Miss Granger in the drawing room.

“What a horrible family,” Narcissa said with a shake of her head.

Lucius came over to his wife, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked over to the couch by the fire. “I must agree. Very bad company.”

The older couple settled down, Narcissa lying on Lucius' lap as he ran fingers through her pale blonde hair. Hermione looked over to see Draco with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

“I hate it when they're like this,” he said in answer to her questioning gaze. “It means some rather loud sounds emitting from their bedchambers in a couple of hours.”

Hermione shuddered and decided that leaving would probably be her best route also.

“I shouldn't have let them come,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“Mrs. Greengrass was horrible,” Hermione said with more venom than she thought she had in her.

Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I thought Astoria would be your least favorite. She looked like she had plans of strangling you over tea throughout most of their stay.”

“Did you hear how Mrs. Greengrass demeaned Astoria? How she humiliated her just to get in your mother's good graces?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Everything that she said is true.”

“Even if it was, she didn't have to put the poor girl on the spot like that,” Hermione snapped. “What a horrible person to do that to anyone, let alone your own daughter.”

Even though Astoria was a catty, immature girl, no one deserved to be treated the way she did. It was probably her mother's treatment of her that made Astoria such a horror to begin with.

Draco stopped walking abruptly. Hermione continued, still seething in anger as she brought back Astoria's shiny eyes and red cheeks.

“You dragged her inside to give her a pep talk didn't you?” he sneered

Hermione paused, looking over her shoulder. “So what if I did? She was about to cry Malfoy. I would too if my mother talked about me like that.”

“Astoria Greengrass is a spoiled, selfish, arrogant little swot who thinks the entire world owes her something. And what makes it worse is she has no talent to back up her delusions of grandeur.”

“That doesn't mean she's not insecure Malfoy. Besides, she sounds an awful lot like a certain person I know.” She stared at him pointedly and turned back around, slowly teetering up the steps in her pumps.

“This certain person certainly had a talent in getting you to scream their name."

Hermione scoffed at him, quickening her steps to stay out of his reach. “You weren't that talented Malfoy. No need to inflate your own ego.”

Draco's long legs allowed him to easily catch up to her as she was fumbling with the door handle to her rooms. “Not that talented? We'll see, Granger. We'll see.”

“You still have a wager to win Malfoy,” Hermione reminded him with narrowed eyes, stepping inside of her room.

She intended that to be the last line of the conversation and made to slam the door in his face. But he placed his foot on the threshold, preventing the door from closing and forced it back open with his hand.

“Wager or not Granger,” he began, his voice deep, hot and promising, “after the nuptials, I fully intend on breaking in our wedding bed. Over and over again.”

She felt a familiar heat pool in hr belly as memories of the two of them, intertwined around each other flooded her head. “Backing out on a game you can't win?” she then challenged. She wanted to choke the smug look off of his face.

“No,” Draco said, moving forward so that they were inches apart. His grey eyes looked more like molten silver, they were so dark and heated.

“I'm backing out of a game that I've already won.”

___________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, Hermione was dragged away from her balcony where she was immersed in a book by Narcissa.

“Lets go,” the blonde woman demanded as she led Hermione by the wrist to the doors of the Manor. “We will find you a dress.”

Though she'd rather be back in her rooms, relaxing, Narcissa's enthusiasm was a little infectious and Hermione found herself a little excited just to look at wedding gowns. She'd only been once, when her older cousin was getting married and invited Mrs. Granger and Hermione along with her to help pick out her dress. But that was different- her cousin was in love. And Hermione was not.

It was also an act she'd always thought she'd do with her mother. Tears filled her eyes as she brought back memories of her mother's death. Planning the wedding made the pain feel all the more worse.

It was obvious this was the reason Narcissa didn't want Hermione to look for a dress on her own. She'd even offered to invite Mrs. Weasley for extra support though the two woman didn't get along at all- but Hermione had declined. Seeing the woman who should've been her mother-in-law would only emphasize the undesirability of Hermione's situation.

One disillusioned carriage ride later, Hermione and Narcissa arrived at a very high end wedding boutique nestled away on the very expensive side of Diagon Alley. They were greeted by a woman in her late fifties dressed in elegant dress robes.

“Oh Narcissa,” the woman said in a French accent, rushing over to give her two pecks on either cheek. “It has been so long since I've seen you!”

“I know it has. I've come with my daughter in law to get her wedding dress,” Narcissa said. She then directed at Hermione, “Aidine designed and made my wedding gown when I married Lucius.”

Aidine smiled and shook Hermione's hand. “I must say that you're going to make a stunning bride. Now when is the wedding? And where?”

Narcissa gave her all of the details as the woman led the two of them through racks of cream, white, and odd colored wedding dresses to a fitting room. There was a pedestal lined with mirrors and a brocaded armchair for Narcissa to sit on with a table beside it laden with finger foods and chilled pumpkin juice.

“So something simple,” Aidine said, tapping her chin with a long finger.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I'm not one for over the top, extravagant things.”

“Simplicity in itself is beauty. Simplicity is elegance.” Aidine replied with a warm smile. “We need something that will allow your own beauty to shine through.”

She disappeared and then returned with almost twenty dresses levitating behind her.

Hermione was then squeezed, pushed and pulled into various positions to try on a bevy of gowns. They went through nineteen, none of which fit Narcissa and Hermione's tastes. As soon as Hermione slipped on the twentieth, she knew.

“Oh Hermione, Narcissa breathed, setting down her cup of tea. “This is it. This is definitely it.”

“I must agree,” Aidine said, holding a hand over her heart. “I think this one is perfect.”

Hermione glanced at herself in the mirror. Though she knew that this wasn't real, that the wedding wasn't real, the gown was.

It had thin, diamond encrusted straps that led down to a sweetheart neckline. An empire waist gave her an hour glass shape. Over the raw column of silk was tulle crescent draping, encrusted with intricate bead and diamond work in delicate flower and vine motifs. She looked ethereal, like some sort of wild, forest nymph or a dryad. It'd be perfect for the wedding as the sun was setting, in the garden.

If only her mother could see her now. If only she wasn't getting married to Malfoy.

She didn't feel like herself. She felt like Hermione Granger, staring at a stranger in the mirror.

“How much?” Narcissa asked non nonchalantly, getting up to walk around Hermione.

“6,000 galleons,” Aidine answered. “Would you like me to ring it up?”

“Of course. We'll keep the dress here until the wedding day. Would you be available to come to the wedding and do some alterations? You'd be welcome to watch the ceremony and attend the reception.”

Aidine looked positively thrilled at the invitation to the Malfoy wedding. “Of course! I'd be delighted. No extra charge- to see such a ceremony will be payment in itself.”

Hermione turned around again to look at herself in the mirror as the two older woman chatted more about the wedding details.

As they were immersed in their own conversation about linens and centerpieces, there was a nagging voice in the back of mind. Hermione looked like she was being prepared for something- she felt like she was being made up for something dark and dangerous to devour her whole. She knew what that dark and dangerous thing was.

A sacrifice, she finally decided.

She looked like a sacrifice.

_____________________________________________

“How are you doing?” Draco asked his mother who was sitting up in her lavish bed.

She was looking wistfully at the french doors leading out to the garden before turning to him and giving him a smile. “I'm getting better. The girl says I'll be able to talk normally within another week.” She was forced to speak in a whisper to avoid overexerting her healing vocal chords.

The girl? Draco's brow furrowed before he realized that she was talking to Granger. “Where is she by the way? Shouldn't she be in here, tending to you?”

Narcissa frowned. “You didn't know Draco did you?”

“Know what?” he snapped, going over to the side table piled with various potions.

“About her mother,” Narcissa said.

“She's been spending most of her time with you lately as it is,” Draco said almost jealously.

He'd been unable to draw Granger back out for dueling or any other activities due to her preoccupation with healing his mother. Two weeks ago, in the kitchen, was the last time he saw her and had her.

“Draco,” Narcissa began hesitantly. “Her mother is dead. She just found out earlier today. Killed in a Deatheater attack last night.”

He stiffened, shock flooding his entire body. Her mother's death was the first unrelated casualty they'd had since moving the headquarters to the Manor- they were used to fallen comrades and often forgot about the vulnerable families of muggle borns or half bloods. Apparently no one had thought to put protection around Granger's parents, though he could see them being a prime target for a Deatheater attack.

“Where is she?”

“She's in the gardens,” Narcissa replied, nodding towards the open doors. “The poor girl.”

Draco debated going outside- it was obvious by the pointed look that his mother was giving him that she thought he should.

“She is your comrade,” Narcissa then said. “Even though she is of unfortunate birth, she still saved my life. I will forever owe her.” She paused, then continued, “Go out there. For me at least. I would do it myself but I'm confined to this blasted bed.”

“You're too compassionate,” Draco told Narcissa with a cold look.

“Draco,” she replied sternly.

Scowling, he stalked through the french doors into the still blooming garden. He had no idea where she'd be, so he started walking around aimlessly, keeping his eyes sharp for a head of unruly, brown hair. It took him fifteen minutes to find her- the sun was setting, bathing the gardens in an unearthly dim, light.

He saw her, sitting beneath a willow tree, fingering the bush of peonies next to it with a pained expression on her face. A leaf crunched loudly beneath his boot and the sound alerted her- she looked up at him like a wild, scared animal that'd be cornered.

“Granger,” he said, looking down his nose at her. “What're you doing out here?”

“Your mother told me I could come into the gardens,” Hermione answered defensively, lowering her eyes back to the peonies. “Why're you here?”

Draco hesitated, not sure how to even begin conversation. He, by all means, wanted to leave. For one of the first times in his life, he felt a crippling awkwardness wrap around him. What in the hell was he supposed to say to someone who had just lost their mother?

She huffed at his silence, crossing her arms across her chest, before turning her head to purposefully ignore him. “Go away Malfoy. I'm not in the mood.”

“The peonies,” he said ignoring her previous sentence. He nodded at the flower she'd plucked off and held in her hand.

She smiled down at the delicate petals in her palm. “They were my mother's favorite. She grew some in our back yard but she was a dismal gardener. She only got a couple to bloom every year but she kept trying because she loved the flower so much.” A tear slid down her cheek that she hurriedly brushed away. “I don't know why I'm telling you this. You don't care.”

He didn't answer, not exactly sure what to say to that. Of course he didn't care...not really. It was hard to care about things that didn't pertain to him. But for some unknown reason, it bothered him that Hermione Granger was crying like a first year in his family gardens- he cared because she should've been inside, in an alcove somewhere with him buried inside her. He cared for purely selfish reasons- but the fact that he cared at all baffled him.

“Granger, I am fucking you,” he finally answered truthfully. “I'm minimally invested in your welfare.”

She frowned at him before rolling her eyes. “Of course you would say something crude and crass like that. Typical Malfoy.”

He stared at her profile for a moment, taking in how the light played on the hallows in her face. Seeing her so vulnerable made him nervous. He wasn't used to it, unless she was writhing in pleasure underneath him, about to come undone. He was used to the fiery Granger, the bossy swot who punched him the face their third year.

This was completely unfamiliar territory for him- he'd never dealt with a crying girl before. And he didn't understand why he should start now. It was easy to convince himself to go and leave her in peace. He'd done what his mother had asked of him.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said stiffly as quickly as he could. “Good night.” He turned on his heel but froze when he heard her speak.

“Thank you Malfoy,” she said. “Though I'm sure your mother put you up to it.”

He paused. “Wipe those tears away Granger. I'm not used to seeing you cry- its making me rather uncomfortable. And you look horrendous with a swollen nose and snot sliding down your face.”

Hermione glared at him before wiping at her tear stained face with her flower free hand. “You're such a bloody prat,” she muttered venomously.

“Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment.”

His eyes swept over her reclining form- his libido was in overdrive and he quickly found himself hardening in his pants as he watched her breasts rise and fall, straining against the cotton of her long sleeved shirt. As he watched her small nimble fingers caress the flower petals as if they were the most precious things in the world.

He hadn't touched anyone else- it was impossible after reliving their encounters unconsciously and waking up to a hard on caused by more than the need to urinate. He had tried, with nearly everything that had breasts and a pair of legs. But it slowly dawned on him that he didn't want a replacement to slake his thirst while Granger easily ignored his existence, flouncing around his manor.

He was a Malfoy. He didn't deal with fakes and imposters- he deserved the real, genuine thing.

He wanted to bury himself inside of her. Make her reach that precipice. To make her feel as good as she'd made him feel two weeks ago. To make her forget, while they were immersed in each other, the sorrow that she'd been laden with. He owed her that much, at least.

But not tonight.

Not while she was mourning her mother.

When she came to him...or when he took her next, he wanted her in the normal state of mind. He wanted her as he knew her before. He wanted her to be Granger. He wouldn't...couldn't get off any other way.

Draco stood, vanishing the blanket. “Granger if you stay out much longer, you'll catch a cold. And I expect to see you in practice tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“I wouldn't expect any,” she answered in that same soft voice, the one that didn't seem as though it should be coming from her mouth.

“Good,” he responded coldly.

Without further ceremony, Draco walked away, leaving her alone and puffy eyed beneath the tree.

Draco made a beeline for his rooms and as soon as he entered it, he threw off all of his clothes as quickly as he could. He stumbled into his bathroom and braced himself with one hand against the wall.

Groaning, he wrapped a fist around his steel hard, weeping cock and started to pump himself fast, imagining Granger bouncing on top of him, imagining her glistening folds, imagining her face as he drove her to the precipice, watching it contort with pleasure as she fell over, down and down and down until she was squeezing and gushing around his cock.

With a hoarse cry, he exploded, his load landing on his hand and splattering across the dark marble tile. He stood there for a moment, breathing labored as he came down from the intense high of a satisfying yet disappointing orgasm. Masturbating was a sad second to what he'd been imagining.

Draco slipped into a cold shower, the evidence of his solo session washing down the drain as he willed his half mast member to soften so he could go to bed comfortably. But it was unrelenting and remained hard until he took his cock in hand and came again, this time to the fantasy of Granger on her knees, sucking him off enthusiastically.

He'd give her time.

Only a little.

He figured she might need it to get over her mother's death.

He couldn't rush her. Not after what she'd done for Narcissa, risking her life to save his mother who probably would've been left for dead by the other Order members on the battlefield. Not after she spent most of her nights staying up, coaxing Narcissa to drink the foul tasting blood replenishing potions. Not after she'd let him have her because he needed comfort, if only for that one night, even if it was from her.

Normally he wouldn't care. She'd be one of the faceless women he'd taken his pleasure in. The ones who had given him nothing but a quick orgasm or a decent blow in a broom closet somewhere.

But this was Granger. Even if he despised her, she was different. She was brilliant. She had inadvertently showed him a selfless kindness he'd never witnessed before. She was the epitome of the forbidden fruit.

Oh he'd give her time.

Malfoys knew how to wait if it meant the culmination of their desires.

And Draco wanted Granger.

He'd wait as long as possible,

But he knew one thing was for sure- he would have her again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's the wedding dress. I thought it was ethereal and perfect for a wedding in a garden at sunset. Simple yet elegant.

http://bridal.clairepettibone.com/?cp=gowns/crescent

This was more of a filler chapter- just to get things moving towards the wedding a little bit.
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The Tyger and The Lamb