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Afraid of the Dark	By : Draconis-Silver Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 5709 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned herein. I make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Hermione had always hated the dark. On nights when she was alone, the blackness consumed her, fed on her fears, made her feel vulnerable. It wasn't that she was scared of the dark, she was scared of how it made her feel, how it could leave her feeling so small in her own bed.

As a child, she would cry herself to sleep, begging the monsters that lurked under her bed to stay away. Often she would sneak into her parent's room, too scared to sleep, and she would lay with them, snuggling into the warmth of their bodies as she gently drifted away. Her parents would always let her stay, not wishing to see their little princess in such distress.

After the war, Hermione had been a mess. She was nervous, quiet and reserved, unable to look anyone in the eye. Everyone was her enemy, out to get her, to drag her back into the darkness she hated so much.

Harry and Ginny Potter were at a loss as to what to do with their once tenacious, fearless friend, who had so slowly turned into a shrinking violet. They had consulted the best mind healers from all corners of the globe to try and help her, to do anything to ease the pain that haunted her everyday life.

Their saviour had come in the form of Draco Lucius Malfoy. The once callous, arrogant pureblood had completely turned his life around after their seventh year at Hogwarts, leaving the familiarity of the south of England to move up north, near to Manchester. There he studied Psychology at MMU, graduating with a first class honours degree.

After three years of study, he gained a position as a part-time women's psychologist in the newly erected Charity Burbage ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The ward was much different from the other wards at the hospital, there were no healers rushing around in the startling lime green robes, or anguished squeals of patients. Instead, the ward promoted peace and relaxation for all who passed through its doors.

It was to Draco's great surprise when Harry Potter showed up at his office door one August afternoon, begging for his help. It was rather hot that day, Draco was feeling quite irritable as the afternoon wore on, so when the Boy Wonder turned up, the small boy in Draco wanted to slam the door in his face and tell him to "piss off." But the adult Draco Malfoy had done a lot of growing up after Hogwarts and after a long, extremely awkward chat, decided to bury the hatchet with Potter.

The next day, Potter had entered Draco's office with none other than Hermione Granger, Gryffindor princess and bookworm extraordinaire. To say Draco was shocked at the state of the young woman who had occupied the sofa opposite him would be a massive understatement.

What had happened to her?

To put it plainly, Hermione Granger had been an absolute wreck. So broken, in fact, that she barely even registered where she was or who she was with. Draco felt an immense amount of sympathy for her as she stared blankly at the wall behind him, her normally bright eyes dull and lifeless.

Harry had her hand clutched tightly in his, as if his grip on Hermione was the only thing keeping her here at all. Draco gave her a quick once over with his eyes, examining the general state of her physical health. Her skin tone was a deathly, sickly pale colour, as if all the warmth had been torn from her tiny frame. If it was anyone else, Draco would have said she'd just come out after a long stretch in Azkaban.

But this was Granger, and it almost frightened him to see her like this.

"Granger?" Draco asked, looking at the small woman in front of him, whose eyes were looking right through him as if he didn't exist. He repeated her name twice more, each time as useless as the attempt before. Draco knew he'd have to cross the line he'd never expected to.

"Hermione?"

Several seconds passed - the only sound that of a ticking clock on the mantel of the fireplace - before Hermione's eyes widened slightly, looking straight at Draco, whose breath hitched in his throat.

"Hermione, do you know who I am?"

"M-Malfoy?" She asked quietly, curiously. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her nostrils flaring, looking close to tears.

Draco slowly moved closer to the distraught witch, whose tearful brown eyes didn't leave his. Never quickening his movements, he sat down in the deep beige armchair directly opposite her.

It took a while to convince Hermione that she was safe in this room without Harry being there. She was slightly nervous without her best friend, but in the end, Hermione would be much more confident in herself and around Draco, the latter being the first task.

"Do you know why you're here, Hermione?" Draco asked carefully, keeping his tone even.

Hermione seemed to ponder the question for several moments, a myriad of different emotions flashing through her eyes, before she settled on uncertainty. She shook her head quickly, her limp curls barely even moving, lacking the life they once had. "Harry said I needed help, but I'm not sure why. What's wrong with me, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled at her in reassurance, doing his best to make sure that she knew she could trust him. Which, given their history, was no easy feat. "That's what we're going to find out, Hermione."

After each therapy session, Draco would ask her how she felt. She had only to say one word, and in the following therapy session they would address why she felt that way. The first few sessions left Hermione feeling confused, uncertain, hesitant and frustrated. Eventually they transitioned into hopeful, relieved, trusting, and happy.

After several months of intensive therapy, Hermione was well on the road to recovery. The first few sessions had Draco talking to Hermione about her history, her parents and upbringing. He learned that she had a fear of the dark and isolation, a phobia she had never gotten over. From there they conversed about Hogwarts and everything in between. In one heated session, he found out just how much she hated Quidditch, which Draco, as a Quidditch player himself, found ludicrous.

She'd felt frustrated after that therapy session, which Draco couldn't help but chuckle at.

At that point, Draco had become quite fond of Hermione.

When they breached the subject of the Second Wizarding War, Hermione all but shut down. She refused to talk about anything that transpired during the months when she was away from school with Ron and Harry. When he broached the painful subject of Malfoy Manor, Hermione let out an ear piercing shriek, her hands cradling her head as she rocked back and forth, terrified sobs wracking her body.

As it was also quite a sore spot for Draco, too, he felt he had no choice but to wrap the petrified girl in his arms. Almost impulsively, his hands gently ran through her hair, slowly stroking the long russet curls between his fingers. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear until her sobs became quiet whimpers, her body becoming relaxed in his embrace.

They remained curled up on the couch in his office until well after their session's appointed end time.

Hermione had felt scared after that session.

Draco was left feeling remorseful.

Draco would have been a fool to deny his growing feelings for Hermione. She had always piqued his interest in one way or another, whether she was besting him in class or on the receiving end of one of his barbed insults, just to have it thrown back in his face.

However, he knew things could never escalate beyond his professional relationship with her, which he had already tested on one occasion.

It was a particularly stormy evening, in the middle of Spring, when Hermione finally revealed the horrors surrounding her brief visit to his ancestral home. As she wept in his arms once more, she told him all about her nightmares, about being back in his family's drawing room on the cold wooden floor, screaming in agony as the Crucio curse that flew from Bellatrix's wand ripped her body to pieces.

Draco felt physically ill as she relived her nightmares, remembering his reluctance to give the Golden Trio's identities away, only to witness Hermione being tortured for being found in possession of Godric Gryffindor's sword. He'd sobbed himself to sleep for days afterwards, unable to rid himself of the screams that echoed through his head, or the way Hermione looked at him just after the curse was lifted, her eyes glassy with tears.

By that point, Draco had already begun to question his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He knew he was half-heartedly following Voldemort, the psycho that ranted about blood purity, when he was only a half-blood himself. He also realised that Potter was his best chance of survival. So, in the Room of Hidden Things - when Crabbe and Goyle decided they knew better than him - he cast a curse at a tall stack of junk, effectively cutting them off from The Golden Trio. After Potter had saved him from the Fiendfyre, he realised that Potter would undoubtedly win the war. His main concern, then, was survival. If that meant abandoning this war to save his family, so be it.

He'd returned to Hogwarts in September, the defeat of Voldemort still fresh in everyone's minds. The Golden Trio had returned, also. Granger and One-Wank-Weasley had become a couple, it seemed, if the way he'd hung off her every word was any indication. However, Draco was content to pay them no mind for the rest of the academic year. It was only when the following Spring rolled around when he noticed that Granger had started missing meals, preferring to stay in the Library every single night. Draco heard from a fifth year Ravenclaw that Granger had had a monumental falling out with Weasley.

When Weaselbee had rolled into the Great Hall for breakfast one morning, sporting a huge bruise on his left eye, rumours had spread like wildfire. He remembered one about the Bulgarian Sasquatch, Viktor Krum, returning to the UK to visit Granger, only to lay one on Weasley for upsetting his Hermy-own-ninny.

Draco had liked that one the best. Slytherin house had spent the following night writing a song for the occasion. He remembered it going a little something like this:

"Oh, Weasley, he's such a whiner, Went and got himself a shiner, Got put on his bum by Viktor Krum, Who punches like a bludger! Don't you fret, ol' Weaselbee, You'll always be our King, If you can't handle boxing, You'd better miss this ring!"

Hermione was shaking against him, her head nestled into his chest, the damp from her tears soaking through his powder blue shirt. Draco squeezed her gently, rubbing up and down her arms before trying to untangle himself from Hermione. Almost instantly, Hermione's grip tightened on his shirt, silently begging him to stay with her.

Draco didn't know what to do other than comply. If it was anyone else, he would have pulled away. But it wasn't anyone else, he reminded himself, it was her.

He relaxed back into her, dropping his chin to rest on her head as she snuggled into him once more, the only sound that of the steady tick of his clock.

The evening drew on and as darkness crept into the room, Draco reached for his wand to ignite the sconces on the wall, only to be stopped by a small hand wrapping around his arm. He looked down, confused.

Thunder rolled through the night sky, the flash of lightening illuminating the pale skin of Hermione's face, the tear tracks along her cheeks glistening in the flashing light. He could hear the rain against the window panes, the staccato rhythm of the water echoing the thrumming of his rapid heartbeat.

Hermione's eyes were wide, her fear evident, but there was also something else lingering there. Was it longing? Draco's breath caught in his throat as he watched Hermione shift closer, almost straddling him, her face millimetres from his, her warm breath fanning across his cheek. If he leant in slightly, his lips would be on hers.

Draco craved to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside her. He knew it was wrong, that he would be taking advantage of her vulnerability, something he had never done to a woman before. Oh, but how he ached to feel her warm body flush against his own, responding to his caresses, begging for more.

Hermione's sparkling brown eyes were half-lidded, her need leaking from every pore. Draco's breaths were coming in sharply, unable to tear himself away from the witch in front of him.

"Draco," she whispered, her voice quivering as she spoke his name. Her small hands crept up to his shoulders, her nails gently scratching at the fabric of his shirt. He knew he was quivering like a virgin. Draco's eyes widened when she toyed with the top button of his shirt, before flicking it open with shaking fingers, revealing a sliver of the smooth pale skin beneath. "Please."

Draco realised he had to stop her, but he didn't want to. There was something about the way she was looking at him - like he was the only reason she existed - that made his heart burst with unparalleled joy.

With trembling hands, he cradled her face tenderly, stroking across her cheeks and jaw with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned in slightly, his grey eyes catching hers, almost hesitating, before he claimed her lips with his own.

Hermione moaned into his mouth almost instantly, her hands reaching around behind his neck before she ran her hands through his platinum blonde hair, her fingers twining together as she massaged his scalp. He groaned as her fingernails scraped behind his ear, his hips involuntarily grinding into hers.

Her kisses were consuming him, igniting a fire in his core that he all too willingly surrendered to. The heat was almost unbearable as Hermione's mouth moved deliciously against his. Draco dragged his tongue along her lower lip, begging for entrance, which she quickly gave as she let out a breathy moan.

Hermione was now straddling Draco's lap, his large hands caressing the back of her quivering thighs, just below her apex. Draco ground his hips into hers, letting her know just how much he wanted her, and she gasped in response, her own need evident as she rocked against him. He ran his hands through her brown curls as his tongue massaged her own, earning little whimpers as he slowly left her mouth to trail down her to her jaw, neck, any skin he could make contact with.

She cradled his head against her neck as his mouth found her earlobe, his teeth scraping gently as he nibbled at the sensitive skin. "Oh, Draco!" She moaned as her skin was left scorching by Draco's kisses. "Please!"

"I want you," Draco groaned huskily against her ear, "fuck, I want you so badly."

Hermione writhed against him, pressing herself further into his body, "Draco, please. Oh, I want you, too." She moved him back onto the couch until his back was flush against the cushions.

He watched Hermione through half-lidded eyes as she slowly removed his shirt with trembling fingers, getting caught on a few buttons. Draco rested his hands on hers, stopping her. Hermione's head shot up, her eyes filled with confusion and uncertainty.

"Relax, Hermione. Take as long as you need," he soothed her, taking her palm and placing a tender kiss directly in the middle, his eyes drifting shut.

As soon as he felt his shirt give way, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her petite frame and turned them over, Hermione now beneath him. Draco kissed her soundly as his hands drifted upwards from her calves to her thighs, ghosting over her hips, ribcage and cleavage before he settled his arms on either side of her head, resting on his forearms.

Hermione dragged his open shirt over his shoulders, making sure to feel every inch of his skin. Draco quickly unbuttoned his cuffs and threw the shirt off, not minding where it landed.

Hermione marvelled at the expanse of Draco's chest and torso, his strong shoulders, his defined stomach muscles, chiseled from years of playing Quidditch. She longed to run her hands along the 'v' of his hips and the dusting of fine blonde hair below his navel, running down to below the waistband of his trousers.

Draco quickly divested Hermione of her silk blouse, placing a gentle kiss along her skin for every inch that was revealed, button by button. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as he reached the waistband of her jeans, untucking the blouse from its confines. He lifted the shirt away, flinging it in the same direction as his own.

His breath caught, Merlin, she was fucking beautiful. Her brown tresses were spread around her shoulders and the cushions below, stray tendrils framing her pretty heart-shaped face. Her flushed chest was rising and falling steadily, the tops of her breasts spilling out from the confines of her white lace bra. Her tiny waist was accentuated by the delicious flare of her hips. She was perfect. He wanted to cherish her. "Fuck, Hermione. You're so beautiful," Draco whispered tenderly, stroking along her rib cage and lace covered breasts, making Hermione arch into him, a moan escaping from her lips.

Hermione blushed under his adoring gaze, unused to the attention she was being given. She just knew that she wanted him inside her, "Draco, please." She begged.

"What is it, Hermione?" He asked, stroking her hair away from her face.

Hermione hesitated, "I- I want you to make me better." She bit her bottom lip, "Please."

"I promise, I'll do everything I can to make you better."

Hermione smiled shyly at this, her eyes lighting up. Draco reached down and kissed her softly, fuelling all his admiration into making sure this witch knew how cherished she was.

As Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, Draco slipped an arm underneath her back as she arched into him, releasing the clasp on her bra as she gasped into his mouth. Hermione slipped her arms out of the straps and threw it to the side onto a steadily growing pile of clothes.

Hermione's breasts were perfect, the flashes of lightening casting sharp shadows on her body, accentuating her curves. Draco kissed a trail from Hermione's neck, nibbling on her clavicle and shoulder before he took Hermione's breast into his mouth, suckling and laving at the sensitive flesh as Hermione writhed and arched into his mouth, moaning at the exquisite pleasure she was receiving. Not wanting to leave the one out, he massaged her other breast with his hand, gently squeezing and tweaking her nipple with his fingers.

"Oh, Draco!"

His mouth left her breasts, quickly kissing and licking a downwards path towards the waistband of her jeans. He slowly circled her navel with the tip of his tongue before nipping at her hipbones with his teeth as he unbuttoned her jeans. Tugging down the zipper, he gently pulled them down her legs, revealing beautifully shaped thighs and calves, all the way down to her dainty ankles. Hermione slipped off her flats before Draco completely removed her jeans, leaving her only in her knickers.

Kneeling over Hermione, Draco quickly unbuckled his belt, slipping it off before reaching for the button of his trousers. Hermione grasped his hand, stopping him, as she sat up and replaced his hands with her own.

"Let me," she said, slowly sliding down the zipper. She tugged the trousers over his hips, past his thighs and down to his knees. Hermione smiled at Draco's arousal, rumours of his sexual prowess at Hogwarts did not escape her, including how well-endowed he was.

Hermione noted that Draco had gorgeously toned thighs, powerfully built from years of flying a broom. Legs were one of her favourite body parts on a male. Draco had always had amazing legs, even in his later years at Hogwarts.

Draco threw off his shoes and socks before shuffling out of his trousers, leaving only his boxers. Hermione bit her lip as nervousness crept in, she hadn't been intimate with another person since she had left Ron three and a half years ago. Even then, she'd faked it every time, crying out in ecstasy even as he hurt her through being careless.

Draco, sensing her unease, gently kissed her forehead. "I won't hurt you, Hermione. I'll make it good for you, I promise." He declared as he gently fingered the fabric of her knickers, pulling them away from the apex of her thighs, before throwing them onto the pile of their clothes on the office floor.

Now fully naked, Hermione felt exposed, and she tried to cover herself with her hands. Draco wasn't having that. He gently pried her hands away, "Don't hide yourself from me, Hermione, you're so beautiful. Every inch of you."

Hermione shivered under his gaze, his mesmerising gunmetal irises penetrating through her fears. She nodded, watching as Draco lowered his boxers, revealing his arousal to her. Hermione's eyes widened, the rumours weren't so false, it seemed. Draco was rather large.

"We'll go slow, okay?" Draco assured her, seeing her eye his erection tentatively.

"Okay," Hermione whispered as Draco lowered himself over her, his lips ghosting over hers. She took his face in her hands and raised her lips to his.

Draco ran his hands down Hermione's abdomen, coming to rest on her thighs. He had to know how ready she was for him. Slowly, he traced a single finger over her navel, down towards the apex of her thighs. Hermione's shallow breaths were tensing her entire body, her stomach seizing up as he reached her most intimate place.

"Relax, baby. I'm not going to hurt you." Hermione let out a deep breath before she moaned loudly, Draco's finger stroking between her legs, teasing at her clit before breaching her entrance.

"You're so wet for me, Hermione. Fuck," he muttered in awe, slowly moving his finger in and out of her. Hermione was panting, her want increasing tenfold as Draco continued his sensual assault on her body. "Draco, oh, Draco! Please," She whimpered, needing more from him.

Draco aligned himself with Hermione's body, feeling the head of his erection at her entrance.

Hermione arched beneath him, desperate for some friction. Steadily, he thrust his hips forward. Sweet Circe, she was tight! If Draco wasn't careful he'd blow his load before he was even fully sheathed inside her.

Think of Uncle Sev waltzing with Hagrid in Great Aunt Walburga's underwear, Potter and Weaselbee fucking like rabbits. Draco almost went limp at that last one, fuck, concentrate.

He thrust forward again, letting out a long groan as he settled inside her. Fuck, fuck, she was heavenly. She felt like velvet encased around him. He pulled back slowly before thrusting back in, willing himself to calm down.

But she writhed against him, her muscles clenching around his dick, and he knew he was going to be finished before it even started. He needed her to be on top for a while.

"Hermione," he moaned into her ear, "I want you to ride me. Can you do that?"

Hermione whimpered in response, nodding her head as Draco manoeuvred her on top of him, never leaving her slick centre. Draco was now sat upright on the sofa, Hermione straddling his lap. This position allowed him to penetrate Hermione deeper, letting him hit her spot repeatedly as she caught up to him.

Hermione moaned loudly at the change in angle, her muscles contracting around Draco, causing him to cry out.

"Oh, Hermione - ride me, please."

Draco caught hold of Hermione's hips as she started moving on top of him, her hips rocking back and forth to meet his upward thrusts. "Oh, that's it, baby. Yes," he hissed.

Hermione continued to writhe on top of him, her clit stimulated by the base of Draco's cock as he thrust up to meet her. "Draco, oh yes, Draco!"

He knew she was close, her movements were starting to become erratic and her breaths were laboured. Wasting no time, Draco grasped Hermione and quickly turned them over so that he was back on top. He thrust into her, hard, before following up with a long roll of his hips.

"Oh, Merlin, Draco!" She moaned breathlessly, "do that again."

"This?" Draco asked, feeling a little breathless himself.

"Oh, God! Yes!"

Hermione moaned. Their bodies were both slick with sweat as they strained towards their orgasm.

Draco lifted his head from the crook of her neck to look at her. She was breathtaking; her lips swollen, her hair mused and damp with sweat, her pretty face flushed a perfect pink from the sex.

With a swift, bruising kiss, he slammed into her again and again. Hermione couldn't get enough of the feeling and spread her knees farther apart, grinding her hips against his every time he thrust inwards, allowing him to penetrate her deeper.

He took her hard and fast, loving every moment of it. In between pants and moans, she urged him on, whimpering his name over and over, telling him how good he made her feel as he drove into her, confessing how she loved the feeling of him inside her, hard and hot and unrelenting.

It didn't take long for Hermione to feel that delicious coil tightening behind her navel, ready to explode. Hermione cried out as Draco moved a hand between them to stroke her clit, signalling that he was close.

"Oh, God. Hermione, come for me," he groaned, his hips snapping sharply as he thrust into her again and again. "Come for me, Princess."

As if those were the magic words, Hermione cried out sharply, the dam bursting as her orgasm rocked through her body, her muscles clenching and squeezing around Draco, who moaned loudly as his own orgasm spilled from him.

Thoroughly spent, Draco collapsed on top of Hermione, who instantly wrapped her arms around his back, catching her breath. Eventually, Draco sat up, pulling Hermione with him to settle into his lap. He cradled her head against his chest, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he ran his hands lovingly through her hair.

No words were needed as they lay together, listening to their racing hearts, the gentle beat of the rain against the windows, the roll of thunder beyond the clouds and the steady ticking of the clock on his mantle.

"I feel loved today, Draco," she whispered quietly against his chest, drifting away in his arms.
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Afraid of the Dark