State of the Union | By : lbrado Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 50821 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
I appreciate you sticking
out, this far. I know I promised instant gratification, and I’m sorry to all
those of you who feel that chapter 5 is too far away to be considered instant
gratification. But, hey, the chapters were fairly short, right?
Obligatory No Ownership Clause: I obviously don’t own a single character
portrayed here, but the situations and wording are completely mine.
Hope you enjoy Chapter 5.
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The reception was amazing.
With enough food to feed an army, the guests ate and danced until their heart’s
content. Hermione ate methodically without actually tasting, smiled smiles that
didn’t reach her eyes and danced gracefully when Draco led her to the floor
during the slower music. A brilliant actress, he thought. She might very well
have been wasting her talents as a witch.
It began to grow late and
the guests dwindled, one by one. Only a handful remained and Draco led his new
wife to the floor for a final dance before he released her to her attendants to
prepare for the consummation ceremony. As his fingers curled around her waist
and he pulled her close, his lips rested against her ear in the guise of a
contented man dancing cheek to cheek with his new wife. Hermione’s eyes were
vacant, though she didn’t pull away as Draco whispered in her ear.
“It’s nearly time, you
know. Your attendants will take you upstairs and get you ready… then you’re
mine. As your husband, I can do anything I want… take you any way I wish, as
often as I wish. Forever.” Draco’s voice was soft, but his words menacing and
he was almost certain that he felt a slight shudder run through her, though he
couldn’t honestly be sure.
By the time the song had
ended and he’d pulled back from her, Draco had quietly imparted enough sexually
explicit references to make a whore blush, but Hermione looked as blank as
ever. As he released her small, cold hand, Ginny and her other attendants came
to gently guide her to the master suite of the home to prepare her for the
consummation. Draco sat down at the head table, in a slight huff, and drained
his glass of champagne as Harry and Ron approached him, looking worried despite
Draco’s earlier reassurances.
“Draco,” Harry began,
haltingly, “you aren’t… you aren’t seriously going to... ah…”
“I don’t much have a
choice, golden boy. The ceremony isn’t fully registered until the consummation,
and you know it’s recorded on the binding contract. The ministry will know if
it isn’t completed.” Draco spoke matter of factly as he poured another glass of
champagne and drained it, nearly in one gulp.
“Damn it, Malfoy, you
can’t just… just…” Ron sputtered as his face started to turn the shade of his
hair.
“Shag her?” Draco asked,
with a slight smirk that probably wouldn’t have been present if he hadn’t had
quite as much to drink as he had. Harry actually had to drag Ron away from the
head table before he pummeled Draco into mush right there.
Finally, after nearly a
half an hour had passed, Draco received word that his wife was ready for him
and, after being assured that her attendants were safely back enjoying the
party as well as stealthily avoiding Hermione’s two best friends, he climbed
the manor staircase to the master suite where she awaited him.
The room was dimly lit by
the many small candles littered throughout the room as well as the overhead
candelabra and the green brocade bed curtains had been drawn closed on three of
the four sides of the large bed that filled most of the center of the room,
against the far wall. The sheets and bedcovers had been drawn up to the lap of
the young woman in the bed, who sat resting, seemingly calm, against the
pillows, hands folded demurely in her lap. He leaned, quietly, against the
doorjamb, taking in his new wife, appraisingly. Hermione’s hair had been
brushed loose from the curls and braids and left hanging down her back and over
her shoulders. Draco had specifically requested that she NOT be wearing the
virginal white gown that was tradition for these ceremonies and so, instead,
she wore a simple, though slightly miniscule black lace gown with slim lace
straps over her shoulders and a drawstring neckline. Against her pale skin, it
looked lovely. She looked lovely, he corrected himself. By Merlin, why hadn’t
Potty or Weasel caught her, yet…?
He must’ve made some
sound, because suddenly he realized that his new wife’s eyes had been drawn to
him; eyes that were no more concerned with the current goings on than they had
been since this whole mess had begun. Draco straightened and strode into the
room with all the Malfoy pride he could muster.
“Come here.” His command
was harsh and delivered with a narrow glare. Hermione slid her legs up to her
chest, pushed back the covers and then slipped over the side of the bed to
stand on bare feet, padding over to stand before him. Draco took in the long,
black lace gown with a nod of satisfaction and crossed his arms over his chest.
“At least I can trust you to follow simple instructions.” He wandered in a slow
circle around her as her eyes stayed downcast and finally, he leaned in against
her back and nuzzled at her throat, gently, taking in the scent that had been
lightly sprayed on her skin as well as her own scent beneath it. Again, he
would swear he’d noticed a slight shudder run through his wife and his hands
came up to rest on her forearms, the warmth of his hands seeping into the
coolness of hers. Draco felt the tension in her arms and opened his eyes to see
Hermione’s hands fisted in the lace of the gown she wore. Finally, a response of
some kind, though she still hadn’t raised her eyes.
Draco pulled away and
moved around to lightly finger the ties of her gown before tugging on one to
pull it open. The gown was designed for just such a removal and had his hands
not been on the ties, the dress would’ve slipped right off her shoulders, which
they did when he slid them around over her now bare shoulders. The dress caught
on her clenched fists and he leaned in, again, close to her ear and instructed
her to let it fall. Her hands uncoiled so fast that the dress puddle at her
feet in an instant. Goosebumps stood out on her skin, the chill of the room
taking effect now that she had no covers and no gown to warm her. He ran warms
hands down the smooth planes of her back as he rested his mouth against her
throat, this time pressing his body against hers. He imagined this couldn’t be
mentally comfortable for her; Draco was still fully dressed from head to toe,
including his ceremony robes, while Hermione stood completely naked before him.
After several minutes, he
abruptly moved away from her and began to remove his robes, laying them,
carefully, over a chair near the wardrobe.
“Go get into the bed. Pull
the covers up around you,” he ordered, gruffly, and she slowly made her way
back to the bed. He turned in time to catch a glimpse of her heart-shaped rear
as she climbed back into the bed and, shivering from the cold floor, pulled the
covers around her as she’d been instructed. When he’d stripped down to nothing
but his dress pants, he moved to the side of the bed, removed the rest of his
clothing and slid beneath the covers with Hermione. If she’d been watching him
undress, she didn’t show it, curled up with the blankets as she was, but he
rolled toward her and pulled her, gently, into his arms beneath the coverlet,
partially to warm her. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t seem exactly willing,
either. Her arms were curled around themselves and her legs were rigid against
his. As he held her, he began gently stroking her back, slowly, but she didn’t
settle, right away.
Honestly, Draco would have
liked to leave off the whole thing and let the both of them get some sleep.
Hermione wasn’t responsive and Draco was tired. One hand lifted to stroke her
cheek as he spoke, nearly in a whisper.
“Hermione. If I had a
choice, it wouldn’t be this way. But it has to be tonight to seal the ceremony
and fulfill the law contract. I’ll make it as good for you as I can.”
That was all the warning
she got before his mouth came down over hers, firm, but not cruel. His hands began
roaming her body and she started, for a moment, to struggle against him, before
she recalled the agreement she’d signed. He could technically rape her as
brutally as he saw fit and she could do nothing. She’d signed her body over to
him. She tried her best to relax as his hands skimmed her breasts and she
shivered when his thumb brushed a nipple. After several more moments, in which
Draco barely let her breathe under the assault of his mouth, one of his hands
slipped down between their bodies to test her readiness and she squirmed.
Before she could process what he was doing, he’d moved over her and pushed into
her body a little ways. Tight. She was so tight and he heard her gasp, softly
at his sudden entrance.
“Put your arms around my neck,”
he ground out, lowly. With trembling limbs, she obeyed, and he noted that she
was clenching her fists, again. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to do
this… she was so tight and nervous, besides, whether she cared to admit it, or
not. He’d been able to coax a slight response from her and she was moist for
him, but far too nervous to be able to take him completely without some pain,
regardless of whether she’d done this before. The best he’d be able to do was
stretch her, carefully, so as not to cause any real damage. Draco pulled back
and then pushed forward, again, this time a bit further and felt her tense.
Reaching down between them, he gently stroked above where they were joined and
Hermione squirmed, again, while he could feel her muscles fluttering around
him. He dipped his head to nuzzle at the juncture of her throat and shoulder at
the same time that he pushed forward, sheathing himself completely within her.
She bit her lip but even that didn’t keep a whimper from escaping as her body
struggled to accommodate him. Draco’s voice was strained as he ground out,
lowly,
“By Merlin… exactly how
long has it been for you….?” Years would be his first guess. She was much too
tight to have a regular lover. A lover. A lover? Great goblins, why hadn’t that
occurred to him, before? When he’d forced her into this marriage, was she
leaving anyone behind? Hermione had never mentioned any relationship, but then,
she never really spoke to him. Would she go back to someone after the marriage
was consummated? What if—
His thoughts scattered as
she replied in a calm voice, though there was an underlying tremor.
“I’ve never done this,
before.” Draco reared back and looked down at her. Her face was clear of pain
and more in the state of semi-confused shock that normally took over during
this stage of sex when an innocent was involved. Perhaps innocent was a strong
term… inexperienced? Yes, that was better.
“Never?”
“Never.”
There were a thousand
things he wanted to ask, but this definitely wasn’t the time for questions. His
mouth dipped low and caught hers unawares, so he was able to deepen the kiss
quickly, without her resistance (as if she would, he reminded himself, or even
could based on the contract she’d signed…) and her hips shifted restlessly,
reminding the both of them how intimately they were joined at this moment. The
initial discomfort hadn’t been bad, Hermione had to admit… true, she’d read
that the first time pain was very rarely from the broken hymen, but moreso from
the stretching of the muscles that took place, but there still wasn’t anything
more than a slight ache that she couldn’t honestly claim was all pain. Some of
the ache was a good ache. And it intensified as Draco began to shift and rock,
slowly, against her. She imagined that he was trying to make sure that he
started slowly, in case she was in pain, though considering the way he’d
taunted her about this, recently, she was surprised that he hadn’t just moved,
swiftly, from the outset and gotten it over with, quickly.
It was honestly all that
Draco could do not to make it a quick, insensitive shag. Only the fact that he
wasn’t sure how uncomfortable she was (physically and mentally) held him back.
If he moved the way he wanted to, not only would it be over in mere minutes,
but she likely be sore afterwards, not to mention how she’d feel in the
morning. He was more than surprised when, in the midst of his internal
dialogue, her arms tightened around his neck and her hips began to rock in
synchronization with his. She was obviously feeling more than just a lack of
discomfort.
He gathered her more
closely against him and began to move in earnest, letting his hands wander over
her body in the hopes that, if nothing else, she’d get some kind of pleasure
from this forced joining. After a few minutes, he was afraid he’d
misinterpreted her actions until her breathing deepened and it sounded as
though she was trying to catch her breath. Burying his lips against her throat,
he nuzzled a particularly soft patch of skin beneath her ear, lifted her hips,
slightly, and re-angled his thrusts.
Hermione could barely
contain the soft whimper at the sensations the adjusted position caused, though
luckily it was lost in the low moan of her partner, near her ear. Whatever
slight pain there had been at the beginning was long gone and Hermione could
feel the strong stirrings of an orgasm deep in the pit of her abdomen. Draco
seemed determined that she wasn’t going to get through this without some
pleasure (or possibly the tease of pleasure… was that his plan…?), and he’d found
a particularly sensitive spot to nuzzle where her neck and jaw met; it made her
shiver practically every time moved his lips across it and he must have
noticed, for at the apex of every thrust, his lips or the tip of his tongue
found that spot, repeatedly.
Hermione felt Draco tense
above her, his thrusts becoming slightly urgent, but it seemed he was lucid
enough to slip one hand down between them and she felt his long fingers
caressing her just above where they were joined. The orgasm that had been slowly
building suddenly crashed into her in a matter of seconds, and this time she
couldn’t help the gasps that slipped from her lips.
Draco counted himself
lucky that he had enough of his wits about him to see to her completion, first,
before he thrust hard, twice, and growled low against her throat as he came,
himself. She was now still beneath him, but he could feel her shivering,
lightly, with the breeze nipping over bare skin that was covered in a light
sheen of sweat. One thing that had not changed about him, over the years, was
the fact that he preferred to be impeccably groomed at all times and hated
sweat with the passion of someone born to walk with his head held high, never
run. That being the case, regardless of how tired either of them were, he couldn’t
allow himself to consent to falling asleep covered in even the lightest film of
sweat. Or her, either, for that matter.
Even if she hadn’t been in
her current depressed state, Hermione still doubted she’d have moved from where
she was. Despite the situation that had led them to this point, and
acknowledging that she’d never admit it under anything but a truth potion, the
final result of this experience had been far better than any reaction she’d
been able to coax from her body on her own, or even fooling around with another
person. To be completely honest, she hadn’t felt this relaxed since… well, even
before the loss of her parents. And she’d have been quite content to fall
asleep just as they were, being practically too tired to keep her eyes open and
appreciative of the warmth the cover of his body was affording her, so she
couldn’t help her slight groan when he moved off of her and quit the bed.
Well, that’s that… she thought, blankly. It’s done. The contract has been fulfilled and he’s off to spend the
night in his own room.
Her eyes slid closed and
through the sleepy haze she heard him moving around in an adjacent room. Water.
Ah. Probably a shower. In her experience, limited mostly to movies or novels,
guys felt the need to hose down after sex. The thought almost made her smile.
Almost. And she’d nearly drifted off to
sleep when she felt a pair of strong arms scoop her up to cradle her against an
equally strong, warm chest. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him,
questioningly, but his gaze was straight ahead. He carried her into the
adjoining room, which turned out to be a fairly large bathroom, and stepped
directly down into an already filled, in ground tub, charmed to hold both
newlyweds, with space leftover. Once he was seated, he placed her on a similar
ledge and immediately began to wash her back, gently, with a soft sponge.
He’d been careful with her
and, so far, he wasn’t seeing any signs of bruising on her body and she wasn’t
cringing from him, so he doubted he’d hurt her, overly. Of course, with her
current lack of conversational skills, unless he tossed her on her back and
checked for himself, he supposed he wouldn’t know. She’d been receptive to
orders, though, and had answered specific questions… “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“No?” He was sure he
hadn’t imagined the slight whimper he’d heard as he made his way into her body
for the first time, and they hadn’t been the same as the sounds of pleasure
he’d wrung from her, later. Her hands fidgeted, slightly, in her lap, causing
thin ripples in the water around her.
“A little.” He finished
with her back and turned her to face him with gentle, but firm, hands on her
shoulders. Once she was turned, he continue with the sponge, swiping over her
shoulders and down across her breasts. He wasn’t sure if her downcast eyes were
a result of her discomfort with the conversation topic or the fact that she
seemed to have lapsed back to the state she’d been in before they’d consummated
the bonding.
“Do you still hurt?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you
did?”
“Would it matter?” Did he
detect a slightly bitter tone? Excellent.
“Are you questioning me?”
He’d actually been teasing with this last question, but she seemed to droop
further, if that was possible, and replied, quietly.
“Yes, I would tell you.”
Damn. That had almost worked. Ah, well. He supposed that if she’d made it this
far without coming out of this, it wasn’t going to be easy.
The sponge had slowed
during its path across her breasts, making her shiver, lightly, and he could
feel himself stirring in response… suddenly, he hoped, for her sake, that she
was telling the truth. He tossed the sponge onto the side of the tub and lifted
her, effortlessly, into his lap, pulling her bodily against him so that her
knees slid to either side of his hips. In an effort to keep herself steady, her
hands had already clasped onto his shoulders and Draco gently tugged at the
damp curtain her hair to force her head, back, so he could nuzzle at the slim
column of her throat. He caught that sensitive spot of hers, and when her breath
caught to hold back a whimper, he guided himself into her, smoothly.
There was only a slight
twinge of discomfort when he entered her the second time, but she hardly
noticed it against the assault of his mouth on her neck. He was just barely
shifting his hips beneath her while his free hand roamed over her body and,
finally, using the grip on her hair, he pulled her head down to cover her mouth
with his.
She seemed to be letting
him do what he wanted, which was, of course, what she’d agreed to. Confident
than he didn’t need to force her head any longer, his hands slid down to her
hips, lifting them a little ways and then resettling her on him, with a
considerably deeper joining. Her nails
suddenly dug into his shoulders and short gasp of pain tore her mouth from his.
Carefully, he lifted her, again, conscious of her hiss of discomfort and
re-angled the thrust so that he wasn’t quite so deeply joined with her, then
stilled, giving her a moment to re-acclimate to the sensation. Catching her
face in his hands, he lifted it from where she’d dropped her forehead to his
shoulder and met her gaze, aware that there didn’t seem to be any discomfort
there, now.
“Better?” She shifted,
slightly, as a first response, making him hiss, lightly.
“Much.”
“You’re not sore?” His
voice was unsteady and he couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to pull back
even if she was.
“I said I wasn’t.” Her
reply was slightly indignant, as though she was insulted that he felt the need
to ask the same question more than once.
“Good. Then hold on.”
She’d barely had a chance to make sure she had a firm grip on his shoulders
before he was thrusting and helping to guide her hips along the same motion.
Despite the earlier stab of pain, the fluttering of pleasure was already becoming
evident in her lower body.
Hermione’s forehead had
already dropped to his shoulder, which was just fine with Draco because it
meant he had full access to that smooth, soft throat, again. In his experience,
the neck and jaw area of a woman seemed to be highly sensitive (beyond the
normal erogenous areas, of course). He trailed light, dry kisses along the
column of her throat, stopping, occasionally to nip or suckle, gently. With one
hand firmly on her back to hold her steady, his other hand trailed down her
front to brush across the tips of her breasts. He felt more than heard the low
moan that escaped her lips as she turned her face against his throat.
Guiding her mouth to his,
he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it, gently, his thrusts
becoming longer, harder and slightly deeper until she could feel him at her
womb. There was no pain, this time, only a shock of pleasure each time he moved
as deeply as he could within her. Almost immediately, the waves of her orgasm
began to flow through her and she couldn’t help the erratic shifting of her
hips in response.
That triggered Draco’s own
climax and he slanted his mouth over hers, hard, spilling deeply into her body.
He could still feel the little aftershocks of her pleasure around him as he
stroked her back, the kiss he’d initiated becoming less frenzied, smaller
kisses along her lips. The water around them had cooled from the hot bath it
had been, earlier, to a lukewarm pool and she shivered from the loss of warmth
as he lifted her from him to set her on the underwater ledge he’d pulled her
from, before.
Draco manipulated the
charmed tub in order to return the water to its previously steaming temperature
and proceeded first to soap and then rinse himself thoroughly. When he was
finished, he resoaped the sponge and continued where he’d left of on Hermione,
who’d been simply enjoying the warmth of the water and afterglow of her second
sexual experience.
“Turn around and lean your
head back.” So far none of his orders had resulted in anything negative and she
didn’t hesitate to follow these most recent ones. He manually leaned her back
further to immerse her hair, and then settled her upright, beginning to massage
her scalp with soap. Draco had her lean back once more to rinse the soap,
completely, then lifted her into his arms, stepped from the tub and set her on
her feet at the rim. After drying himself, he lifted a second fluffy towel and
rubbed Hermione down with it as she twisted her tail of hair to squeeze the
excess water from it. Once her body was dry, he towel-dried her hair and led
her back to the bed they’d abandoned, earlier.
During their bath, the
houseelves had tidied up and changed the sheets, leaving the covers of the bed
turned down, invitingly, and their discarded clothing was now folded, neatly,
near the armoire. Had she been in her right mind, Hermione would have blushed,
darkly, at the thought that the servants might have heard the two of them in
the tub.
As it was, she was too
tired for thoughts of any kind and he directed her towards the bed, while he
extinguished the candles. Once it was dark, he slid into the bed, turning
towards Hermione and pulling her into his arms. As he slid one of his knees
between her legs to get comfortably curved around her, he heard her mummer, sleepily.
“..please, no more…” She
sounded so helpless. He hated it. The real Hermione would have shoved him away
and ordered him to let her get some rest, already.
“Go to sleep, then, before
I feel the need to exercise my marital rights a third time, tonight” he
replied, gruffly. She started to pull away from him, but he tightened his arms
around her, keeping her locked against him. As hard pressed as he was to admit
it, she’d surprised him, tonight; both by the admission of her lack of sexual
experience and the fact that she’d allowed herself to be pulled along into
whatever pleasure he’d seen fit to give her. Interesting. He wanted the old
Hermione back, but having her in his life, more specifically in his bed, might
not be such a bad thing, he thought as he snuggled her closer to him and
drifted off.
Hermione, herself, was in
a slight state of shock. After everything that Draco had said, leading up to
this night, she’d fully expected to be bruised and broken by the time he was
finished with her. But, here she was, fully sated and even moderately blissful
after not one, but two experiences in which he’d been nothing if not a
thoughtful lover. Now she was tucked into the curve of his body, warmly,
listening to the soft, breathy sounds of his sleeping. She had no idea what
tomorrow held, but, for the moment, marriage agreed with her.
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A decently long chapter.
Review if you enjoyed.
~§~ Duchess ~§~
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