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dark_granger

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But Draco Malfoy was still inside her, and she panted, holding onto him as tightly as she could. Fingers digging into her hips, he waited, keeping them still. His concerned eyes carefully examined every emotion running across her face.

At her reassuring smile, his lips crashed down to hers again. Her nails raked down his back while his fingers buried themselves in her thick hair. His body was hard against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him as close as she possibly could.

"Fuck,’ he hissed and grabbed a fistful of her hair, his hips suddenly pistoning, moving hard inside of her. His grip on her hair tightened, and Hermione arched up towards him, letting the sensations he was creating within her dictate her actions. His roughness excited her, and the higher he took her, the more she wanted.

"Merlin, Malfoy,’ she whimpered softly, ’Oh God...′

Malfoy grunted, sliding his hands under her thighs and pulling her legs over his shoulders so he could push even deeper. Hermione felt like he was splitting her in two with his roughness. It shouldn’t feel satisfying, shouldn’t make the low, keening noises being ripped from her turn more and more shrill with each thrust.

The blood rushing through her was building up, moving towards a crescendo, and her entire body shook all over-it was unbearable, she needed it to end, she never wanted to stop. She shut her eyes as he pounded into her, giving her body to him completely. She was writhing beneath him, every nerve on edge.

Then she felt his hand at her chin. "Look at me,’ he commanded huskily. And she did.

She felt her walls clench around him, felt the pressure building low in her stomach. She was so close.

Hermione whimpered louder every time he thrust into her, feeling the wave coming, beckoning to her, threatening to consume her. She stared into Malfoy’s icy eyes, barely an inch away. She watched as his jaw slackened when she whined especially loud, as if he were astounded by the sounds he was eliciting from her.

His thumb grazed her softly and she lost it. Her eyes widened as her orgasm washed over her.

Malfoy moaned, open-mouthed, and his palm covered her lips roughly to muffle her screams. They couldn’t afford to be heard, and the Muffliato Charm was only designed to hide conversations, not cries.

Hermione thrashed, overcome as wave after wave of pleasure hit her, screaming out her ecstasy into the palm of his hand, eyes never leaving his awed gaze.

When she came down from the high, Malfoy was still pumping inside her. She brought her hands up to tear his palm away from her mouth but only got as far as grabbing onto his arm when a sudden change in the motion of his hips almost made her scream again.

She couldn’t believe he had been able to hold out this long, and if anything, he was only thrusting harder now. Her hips rose up to meet his as she wrapped her legs around him. Now that she had already come once, her walls were extremely tender, and the feeling was almost too much to bear, bordering on painful.

Malfoy was hitting that horrible, yet wonderful place inside her and sliding his tongue along her own. Every plunge sent another shock of pleasure rattling through her body, and it was altogether too much but still she wanted more.

Malfoy moaned as Hermione pulled his head back and sucked on his neck. He rubbed at her clit as if he was trying to wear it down, making her yelp in pleasure. It just added to the heat that swept through her body and made her whimper louder.

Hermione shut her eyes, clamped around him, and rode him for all she was worth. Her legs started to quiver. She felt another orgasm coming, coils of heat slowly unwinding within her. Malfoy growled and held her tighter.

"Please...’ She wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or to move her harder. He did the latter. She felt herself vibrate and her teeth rattled as he slammed into her, plunging with all his strength. She was nearly there.

With a moan her fingernails raked down Malfoy’s back and she felt him shudder, gasp. This time as she came, she bit down on his neck to quiet her cries as Malfoy buried his seed within her.

They stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard, with him still inside of her. He finally pulled out of her and rolled over, his gasping barely under control.

Hermione took a deep shuddering breath. "We did it, Malfoy,’ she breathed. ’We actually did it.′

"Obviously,’ was his intelligent response as he stared at the ceiling of her cell from his position on the ground, disbelief colouring his tone. "We did it.’

"I know you said not to say thank you, but -’ Hermione began, sitting up slowly, and trying not to let her gaze wander over his defined chest. Or lower still.

’Don’t, Granger,′ he cut her off harshly, quickly getting to his feet and reaching for his cloak. "We did what had to be done,’ he finished in a softer tone.

Hermione nodded, ignoring the way his gentle words pierced her heart more than his cruel ones. ’Very well, then. It was nice doing business with you, Malfoy.′

A harsh chuckle met her words. ’Always a pleasure, Granger,′ he replied. His eyes regarded her naked frame, and then he raised his Wand, casting another Scourgify on her to remove all traces of their activities.

Nodding gratefully, Hermione began pulling on her clothes, turning her back on Malfoy so that he could do the same. When she turned back around, Malfoy was fully dressed as well, leaning against the wall of her cell, watching her morosely.

"You deserved better than me, Granger,’ he said sadly. ’I know you would’ve preferred Weasley or Potter, or hell, maybe even Dumbledore, over scum like me. And you still managed to work with what you had.′ His face was drawn in sadness and admiration. "Every witch and wizard in England probably owes you more than they will ever know. I wish there was more I could do to help you.’

Hermione was too stunned by his speech to do more than stare at him as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers one last time. Her eyes closed of their own accord and despite their rough activities less than five minutes ago, she felt desire course through her veins once more.

’Thank you, Hermione Granger,′ he whispered against her lips.

When her eyes opened again, he was already gone.

 Draco was in paradise.

He’d just slept with Hermione Granger, and it had been fucking amazing. However, the high he was riding was unfortunately soured by the guilt he felt over the circumstances behind it.

He’d gone in expecting it to be emotionless and mechanical-just a chore to be done, just another item ticked off the to-do list.

But she’d amazed him. No, more than that-she’d fucking blown his mind.

And – although he’d never admit it – it wasn’t just the sex, either. It was her. All of her. Her drive and willpower. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it with complete determination. Almost like Voldemort.

But unlike the Dark Lord, she also possessed kindness, compassion, and selflessness. Gentleness. Loyalty. Bravery. Qualities he’d once scoffed upon.

He wished he could save her, take away her pain and give her everything under the sun. He wished he could be even half as brave as she was. Maybe then he would’ve helped her escape. If it had been Potter or Weasley in his place, they would have fought to get her out of there, not taken her innocence like the coWardly wretch that he was.

And as much as Draco hated himself, he just admired Granger more. He’d underestimated her, he knew now. He hadn’t realized just how deep her selflessness ran. She’d accepted her possible looming execution with a shrug and moved on to how she could minimize the overall damage.

The detachment in her tone had done it for him, the way she’d taken everything life threw at her, and still had the power to pick her battles. She made each fight count, and did not waste her time and energy crying over lost causes. He had wanted to worship her, to give himself over to her in every way possible, show her his support in the only way he could.

For the first time in a long time, he’d thought of someone other than himself; and it had felt fucking liberating.

Slipping back to his wing of the Manor was child’s play, despite the heavy Death Eater patrols. He’d grown up exploring these halls, and knew of more secret passageways than both his parents put together.

However, as he approached his bedroom, it became clear that someone was waiting for him inside. The door was slightly ajar, with candle light spilling through the gap. He was certain he’d closed the door and blown out the candle before he left the room.

Draco instinctively reached for his wand uncertainly. Who could be in his room at this time of night?

The others couldn’t have known what he’d done, could they? Surely, he would’ve been killed by now if that was true. But what excuse could he provide for being out of bed at such a late hour?

Draco carefully swung the door open the rest of the way, wand drawn, and an Obliviate on the tip of his tongue. His wand dropped, however, as he recognized the profile of the woman sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room.

Narcissa Malfoy glanced up quickly, her face an expressionless mask. "Draco,’ she said, inclining her head towards him. "Come in.’

"What are you doing here, Mother? It’s late.’ His mind was buzzing in panic, but he’d been raised to obey his parents without question, and he knew his mother well enough to believe that he ranked higher on her priorities than the Death Eaters, at least.

So he mimicked her expressionless mask with one of his own, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Narcissa locked and warded the room against eavesdropping and magical methods of spying. Draco leaned against the closed door and eyed her nervously. Could she have possibly found out what he had done? Was he in trouble?

He was dead. He was so, so dead.

"Draco,’ Narcissa smirked winningly, holding up an ancient tome. "I’ve found a way to prevent the Dark Lord’s return.’

Wait, what? Draco tried not to sound too relieved as he replied. "That’s great, Mother,’ Draco grinned, a little too widely. She was so excited that she hadn’t even bothered enquiring about his midnight wanderings. "Do tell.’

"I found the recipe for the Renascentia Potion -’ Narcissa held up Moste Potente Potions, sounding almost like Professor McGonangall for a moment. Not that he would say that to her face of course. It was surprisingly amusing how much the two women despised each other.

"- and it states that the binding for all the ingredients is the magical core of the marked followers,’ his mother continued excitedly, oblivious to his dangerous train of thought.

"Marked?’ Draco pulled back his left sleeve, revealing the ugly Dark Mark across his skin, looking at her questioningly. "Like this?’

"Exactly.’ Narcissa replied grimly. "So the Potion will have no effect if there are no Dark Marks.’

"But how do we get rid of all the Dark Marks, Mother?’ Draco scoffed. "It’s not like we can remove them from everyone’s arms one by one while they’re asleep. Is there even a spell for that?’

"I’ve found two spells in our Library,’ his mother revealed. "But the first one can only be used to remove one’s own Mark.’ She lifted her sleeve, revealing reddish, but otherwise unblemished skin where her Mark had once been.

"And the other?’ Draco asked, impressed.

"It’ll get rid of every single Mark,’ his mother replied evenly, but he could sense a condition coming up. ’But it’s extremely painful, and the spell can only be cast by someone who has never worked in the Dark Lord’s name, or for his cause.′ She deflated visibly. "But I don’t know how we can reach someone like that. We have no way to contact the Order, and my every move is closely watched, as is yours.’

Draco smiled tentatively. "I think I know just the person.’

Draco lay on his back in bed after his mother left, staring at the ceiling above him and blinking back tears.

After the enlightening conversation, Draco felt like hitting his head against the wall. Repeatedly. Until it bled.

Because there had been another way, after all – another way to stop Voldemort’s return. If he’d just waited a little longer, or turned her down, if he’d bothered to meet his mother before he went down to see her, if, if, if...

If she didn’t hate him before, she’d certainly hate him now. Because it had been pointless – her sacrifice had literally been pointless. But, the selfish creature that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what they’d done.

Not one damn bit.

So he pulled himself up and carefully made his way out of the Manor, disapparating back to the Forbidden Forest. Sneaking around was becoming something of a habit these days, he realized as he crept up to his dorm room, unnoticed by his sleeping housemates.

Zabini was already back and asleep, as were Goyle and Nott. Which meant there were no eyes on him, if only for a couple more hours.

Carefully Disillusioning himself, he grabbed a Quill and a sheaf of parchment from his desk before heading up to the Owlery. He needed allies, and there was only one person he could think of to approach for help.

Time to bring Potter in on the plan.

 The next two days passed way too slowly for Hermione’s liking.

It was as though time was intentionally slowing down, with Halloween Night hanging over her head like a guillotine, and memories of Malfoy smothering her dreams.

She knew it was foolish to dwell on it – they’d both done what needed to be done. She had no regrets. But somehow, she couldn’t help but wish that the circumstances had been different. While she could keep him out of her conscious thoughts, he still haunted her dreams.

He was a skillful and thoughtful lover – there was no denying that. He had ensured she felt minimal pain from the whole exercise, and worked to bring her pleasure. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered.

But more pressing than the intrigue that was Draco Malfoy, was the fact that her days were, literally, numbered. She wasn’t foolish enough to expect she’d survive past Halloween night, when the Death Eaters realized that their Potion had failed.

However, accepting that her death was inevitable didn’t mean she was necessarily happy about it.

She moped around her Cell, trying her best to ignore her own thoughts which were often along the lines of "How many hours do I have left now?’ or "I wonder how many more breaths I can take before I have to die?’

She realized how Harry must have felt after watching Snape’s memories, and learning the role he was expected to play in ending the war.

Harry survived in the end, a hopeful voice said in a corner of her brain.

The situation was completely different, her inner pessimist retorted.

They argued in circles in her head until she was certain she was going mad.

Finally, it was Halloween.

Icarus Zabini had arrived at her cell at two hours to midnight, wearing what she assumed were his finest robes, and his nastiest smirk.

After zigzagging through corridors until she lost all sense of direction, she was escorted into what appeared to be a luxurious bathroom and left there with a cold command to "Bathe.’

After scrubbing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as possible, she rose from the bathtub twenty minutes later, only to find that her clothes were missing. Hermione glanced around the bathroom once more, but there was no sign of them.

Resigned, she stepped out of the room in just a bathrobe, finding herself in what appeared to be an enormous dressing room.

Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for her next to a large mirror at the opposite end of the room.

The Malfoy matriarch said very little, and seemed unusually jumpy. But in ten minutes, the witch was done with her hair and make-up.

As the older woman slipped a lovely set of green dress robes over her head carefully, Hermione felt something inside the sleeve of her robe. It felt thin, long and cylindrical, like a stick or a – a wand?

Hermione’s eyes shot to the older Witch’s face, her gaze questioning. "Aim for the Dark Mark,’ Narcissa whispered, leaning close under the pretext of adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "The incantation is ’Morsmordre Finite Totalum.′′

Well, things just got a little more interesting, Hermione thought, bracing herself as she was led out of the Manor and into the starry night.

There were exactly thirty minutes left to midnight, and Hermione Granger was witnessing the most unusual sight.

A neon-blue Potion bubbled in the Cauldron as Icarus Zabini, assisted by Quincey Nott, worked over it in silence. So far, Hermione had watched as they threw in carefully measured quantities of what appeared to be Armadillo Bile, Pickled Toad Brains, Flobberworm Sap, Powdered Unicorn Horn, and a Quartered Bezoar.

They were still on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The Manor itself loomed eerily in the background. It was the perfect setting for Halloween. Despite the crowd, the only sounds to be heard were the bubbling contents of the cauldron, and the howling of the wind.

Other than the ones in Azkaban, all the surviving Death Eaters seemed to be present, in their Black Hooded Robes and Silver Masks, standing in a rough semicircle around the cauldron.

A live Unicorn and a Swedish Shortsnout were tethered with strong ropes and chains a few feet away from her.

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror. She’d been so concerned about her own predicament that she’d completely forgotten about the other "ingredients.’ While the Unicorn was merely picketed to a post, the Dragon was muzzled and appeared to have been drugged into submission. It snorted loudly, as if sensing her perturbed gaze, but its eyes remained closed.

The activist in Hermione was alarmed at the plight of the poor beasts, but she knew there was nothing she could do for them. She herself was unrestrained only because the Death Eaters knew that she was outnumbered and Wandless. The Anti-Disapparation Wards would prevent her from escaping easily enough. In addition, Alecto Carrow stood beside her, glaring down at her with a menacing scowl. Obviously my babysitter for the evening, she thought glumly.

The wand hidden in her sleeve was the only comfort she had, but she knew she’d have to wait for the right moment to use-one wrong move and she was dead, with a twenty-five wands against hers.