Bride of the HP Dragon

Hermione thought Draco looked ridiculous sitting on the embroidered roll-top sofa in his living room with a steaming cup of tea on his lap.

The magnolia upholstery in her living room wasn't her own choice, it had come with the cottage, and it still looked new enough that Hermione had no reason to throw it away for a new one.Muggles have become a society that loves the new and hates the old, and she is by no means a hoarding rat, but she admits that she is still easily sentimental.

Except she's busy discarding and burning those specific painful memories, she reminded herself gloomily.

Hermione wasn't in the mood for tea either, but she insisted on going to the kitchen for a few minutes to calm her nerves.

She released Crookshanks from his hiding place under the floorboards and gave him a plate of hot milk.Ordinary tea and snacks are not suitable for Draco, and obviously neither is the cozy and small living room.He seemed to be colored incongruously, with charcoal and gray pyrotechnics, scintillating bright reds of curses, and sharp greens of Avada.

The last thought made her shudder, she could imagine him in staggering wealth, she could imagine him in the desolate desert, but she couldn't imagine him living a more ordinary life between the two.

Hermione always thought of herself as a pretty normal, in-between girl.

He calls the darkness in the room some sort of seductive black magnet, which he probably owes to his own brilliance.Everything in front of him was contrasted by him, including her, it seemed.

The fire was burning brightly, but he was still cold.With the damp cloak against him, she could easily make out the curves of his arms, arms, chest, and abs.The elegant and powerful hand held the saucer, slightly bent when he moved it, and the slender index finger gently hooked the teacup.

Hermione looked down at her tea in distraught, the warm blood rushing to the extremities of her extremities, which was a good thing for her slightly numb toes and fingers.But her damp scalp was tingling from the heat, a bad cold was already around, and Ron was already sick, in fact...

"We really should take these clothes off," Hermione blurted out, blushing to the nape of her neck.

Sadly, her mouth sometimes can't wait for her brain to type up before speaking.Usually she can only hope that what she says is solid, and since she's Hermione, she's usually solid, if not always tactful.

Ron once said that her unusual talent required a specific PR consultant.

God, she's her own worst enemy, Hermione closed her eyes quietly in shame.

Draco just raised his eyebrows, looking at her inexplicably.Hermione knew she could see all of him, but that was five years ago, and a lot could have happened in five years, and she was now trying to avoid seeing what happened in five years.

There is also the fact that memory is unreliable in the long run, and details fade away.Or worse, the mind makes unnecessary creations of memory according to its own needs.

Hermione gasped, feeling the tingle in her big toe, and if he didn't say something quickly, she was going to throw a cookie at him.

She cleared her throat: "Since you are here, I want to ask you about FidaMia, it can be said that this is an unknown ending."

He's so damn calm, how can he still make her feel so scared after he unexpectedly came to the door and was almost cut in half.

"What do you want to know?" He whispered, with obvious curiosity in his tone.Or maybe it was his way of being polite.There she was, practically sitting in a soaking puddle, and the man wasn't even shaking, which was so unfair.

Hermione tried to ignore her own guilty thoughts: "How's your tattoo?" As if realizing that she couldn't meet his eyes, Draco deliberately caught her erratic gaze and didn't answer until she looked at him.

"The same thing happened to you when you drowned in the black lake and the tattoo disappeared."

Hermione thought for a moment, and a crease appeared between her brows: "Because my death represents the breaking of the seal," she deduced, "That's it? The spell was removed?"

"Yes."

She bit her lower lip anxiously: "Then does it have anything to do with..."

"Is it related to why I left?" he said. "You think the end of FidaMia is also the end of my feelings for you?"

“It made sense at the time.” It felt good to feel her own bitterness come back, and it allowed her to focus.

He sat up straighter. "Do you understand what I said to you at Malfoy Manor?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't remember accepting your explanation," she replied coldly.

"Oh," Draco seemed to come to some important and disappointing conclusion: "Great, then we're not making any progress at all."

Hermione immediately felt bad, she wanted to reassure him that she didn't mean to punish him, it was just that she was still very, very confused...

He put down the teacup and saucer beside the biscuit plate. "Why did you invite me in? I don't think Winter would agree."

Hermione wanted to tell him that she and Nick had broken up, but his arrogant tone annoyed her: "Why do I need Nick's permission to have guests in my house?"

"Because if I were him, I'd be damned bothered that you let me into your house," he snapped.

"But you're not Nick, are you?" she replied.

This conversation is simply the dumbest argument ever.

He stood up: "I shouldn't be here."

She also stood up, almost like a rocket, her hand touched her buttocks, where the tattoo used to be: "So this is the end? You want to go?"

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" It was the same sentence again, but his tone was obviously sharper.

Despite this, Hermione blushed: "I finally read the committee's report, word for word."

The mood changed and Draco smiled, preferring to do nothing but get out of here.The smile challenged Hermione, and he walked towards her, perhaps imminent was a better word.

The look in his eyes made her feel ashamed, and Hermione felt herself backing away from him, the fear was so familiar, she hated herself for still being under his influence.

"So now you really know my strength," he speculated casually, but with bitter sarcasm: "Your worst suspicions were confirmed when you rescued Dominic Normanoff at Malfoy Manor."

"As I said, I read the report, and you did what you had to do," said Hermione, looking up at him, not flinching when his hands touched her cheeks with his knuckles, and he Run your thumb across her lower lip while staring at it.

"So, sweetheart, why are you shaking like a leaf?" He taunted Hermione: "Tell me you're not afraid of me, and then do what the hell you say."

Hermione shivered: "I'm not afraid of you."

"Actually," he drawled, it was hardly an inquiry, and this time he pressed the demand on her with more urgency: "Since you've set out to lie to me, tell me you don't love me. Tell me I say this, then I swear to you, I will never bother you again."

He was expecting, expecting her to say no!But... why did he want her to deny it?

It only took her a moment to realize the answer to the question, and in this case she realized that she and Draco were more alike than they had imagined.

He wanted her to tell her personally that she wanted him to leave and never come back, because only if he was rejected would he not have to expose his soul.

Everyone, even the most practical and rational, wants to know who their true partner is, even if it means thinking about the whole convoluted concept in a purely abstract and emotional way.To the careful and systematic mind, soul mates are the proverbial round pegs in the orderly square hole of life.It was vague and pleasant, but a decidedly fantastical concept, and Hermione Granger wasn't used to fantasies.

Until Draco Malfoy strolled back into her life, he broke the hard shell of her sanity, he came with his standards.Hermione understood why he had left five years ago, and she didn't need the investigative report to explain it.She didn't even need a heartfelt explanation from Draco at Malfoy Manor.She knew it all, but anger and resentment had made her used to relieving the pain of heartbreak.Draco had cost Hermione her soul mate by figuring out her own destiny, but she wasn't about to let him leave her a second time now.

Damn, let the pride of both of them go to hell, she doesn't want to save her own pride with lies.

"I really love you, Draco, with all my heart," Hermione told Draco breathlessly.

And this truth will set you free.

Anyway, hope so,

Draco was dumbfounded.

Hermione continued, lest he react to something idiotic: "The reason I asked you in is to tell you that I broke up with Nick."

Draco's silver eyes flickered like candles, and he raised his eyebrows: "When?" He asked softly.

"Early tonight."

"Oh."

All he could say was, he still looked a little dazed.She touched his cheek, brushed away his wet hair, gently slid her finger down his forehead, and then slowly stroked his straight bridge of nose with her index finger.It was purely a willful exploration, but she couldn't help it.

"You're cold," Draco said absently, holding Hermione's hand and breathing, sounding like he took it all on himself.

She smiled softly at him, and he glanced at the half-open bedroom door, and then at the short corridor leading to the bathroom in the distance.

"Do you want to take a shower?"

Her voice was almost panting as she answered: "Yes, but the bathtub is small."

"And what about the shower?"

God, is this really going to happen? "All right."

The cabin bathroom has a touch of '70s romance in shades of lime green and orange.She stood by the bathtub, clasped her hands reservedly, and watched as he leaned over to turn on the water valve in the mosaic shower.The pipes were old and noisy, and there was a loud, embarrassing groan from the pipes before the water went from lukewarm to scalding out of the shower.

"We can heat up in a minute," he said.

When he unbuttoned the cloak, Hermione kind of remembered that the thermometer in the small bathroom had climbed several notches, and the damp, heavy clothes had fallen to the floor.

Then he stripped off his jumper and long-sleeved shirt, and it was as if he was back in the prefect's bathroom again, only completely different.

She didn't want to throw shoes at him now.

His back was broad, smooth and wet, and Hermione certainly expected to see the tattoos, but the bareness of the skin brought tears to her eyelashes and mixed emotions.Tension, foreboding and overwhelming happiness poured out of her, and it felt intense.

She sighed.

He was still wearing his trousers, and Draco watched her carefully with an expression that was a perfect blend of concern and physical need.

"We don't have to do anything other than take a shower."

She gave him a cheeky look. "Really? We haven't done much in hot water, if you will."

Draco blushed a little: "No, I don't think there's any need for it, it was all my fault last time."

Hermione grinned: "Then I will take full responsibility for everything that happens here this time."

She pushed off her pajama bottoms and panties, and took off her top.It took Hermione a long time, the dress growing up to her thighs.She unbuttoned it slowly, her fingers were clumsy and wet, and she suddenly felt very shy.

"Let me do it," Draco said, slowly undoing her buttons, one by one, all the way down in a delicate slow motion.

When he was done, he paused for a moment, grabbing the front of her shirt.

"Like I said before... we don't need to go any further."

Her small hand covered his: "Are you worried?"

His voice was stern: "Of course I'm worried. I don't want to... suppress you."

"Why are you the only one who pushes? Can't I push you?" she joked.

He snorted: "Granger, you can handle mine every time, it's too easy for you."

It was the best compliment he could have paid her, and Hermione gave him a soft smile, which was hidden again when Draco took off his trousers and flung himself into a corner and stepped into the shower.

She forgot what he looked like naked, or rather, clothed.Gathering up her courage again, Hermione threw her shirt on the floor and joined him.

As she expected, the hot water was a godsend, Hermione closed her eyes and let the water pour over her head, shoulders and back, and Draco rubbed her arm lightly, leaving a discreet distance between them.

Hermione wanted to laugh off his apparent hesitation, but now was not the time to joke.

"Come and rush, too." She said vaguely.

The shower head was a little too low for Draco, so he raised it up and stepped under the stream of water.They were now close together, and she was fascinated to feel his undisguised excitement against her waistline, hotter than the flow of water if possible.Draco's place was rock hard and alive and very genuine.Hermione looked up at him, feeling blissfully apprehensive and a little dizzy.

"You know I'm scared," she admits, "just a little bit."

Draco's hands graciously supported her back and hugged her, his thumb calmly groped her back: "Me too."

She tiptoes to kiss him as he still decides to be frustratingly wary.

Hermione felt the change in him immediately, as if a switch had been activated to tense his arms.His right thigh drew her closer, and Draco lifted her up against the shower wall.

Hermione's legs wrapped themselves around his waist, her head thrown back high as he kissed, and when Draco left her lips the kiss slid all the way down her throat.The hot water hit his back, and steam was surging everywhere. The heat that once made people feel comfortable all over was instantly overwhelming, making Hermione feel like she was going to drown in the thick heat.

Her hands rested on Draco's shoulders, although she didn't have to force them because Draco was holding her fairly steadily.His hands were around the lower edge of her breasts, he didn't look at her face, and he was not polite or elegant, he planned to get what he wanted.Draco lifted Hermione even higher, sucking on her breasts, twirling his tongue over the blushes, caressing the pair of snow-tips intimately now and then with sudden intensified tugs.

Hermione gasped, feeling a surge of electricity from her chest to her toes.

"Oh... oh my god, Draco."

Draco lingered on her lips again, his head tilted slightly, looking down at her through thick, damp lashes.

"Stop?" He licked his lips, and Hermione wanted to, and then she did, and that was enough of an answer for Draco.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck tightly: "Please, I want all of you, right now, Draco."

"All of me?" Draco asked, his eyes gleaming provocatively, and he slid his hands from Hermione's hips to his thighs, lifting her higher around his legs.

His tip was ready in her soft entrance: "Are you sure, Granger?" He thrust forward, the tip parting her softness little by little, and it was torture.

Her answer was a whimper.

She was so prepared that even the slightest amount of targeted pressure between her legs sent her over the edge.They have already separated from the real world, and they don't have to worry about anything except the need to keep him tightly in their bodies.

But he still retreated, but his resistance also made him throw away his armor and armor.Draco's breathing was heavy and messy, and Hermione's eyes were so wild that it thrilled him.She wanted to stand up for herself until she was completely combined with him, and no longer let him have any reservations to drift away from her body.

Draco's hand slipped between their smooth bodies, her head dropped on his shoulder, and she struggled as two rough fingers began to rub together deliciously where she wanted it most.

"Oh." Hermione was almost there, fingernails digging into Draco's shoulders, and he stopped his rhythmic caressing to drive his fingers into her, Hermione wanting him to move.

"Hermione."

Her eyes fluttered open.

Draco looked serious, looked like he wanted to have a good talk with her, and she felt like she would go crazy if she was rejected.

"Last time we did this, I said you'd be mine? Do you remember?"

She wanted to move so his fingers would go back to where they were.

But he hugged her even tighter: "Oh please..."

"Do you remember?" he asked again.

"Yes, yes, I remember."

"You don't belong to me, Granger. You don't belong to anyone else. I've seen too many people in this world who feel they have the right to manipulate and possess others. You belong to me, but I won't claim ownership of you. Okay ? I'm just trying to make that clear."

It was a miracle her tongue still worked, which was important to him, so Hermione made an effort: "I see."

Draco nodded, and with a muffled grunt, he slid two fingers into her, filling her completely, and Hermione's sensation came so intensely that she buried herself in his shoulders screaming and trembling, and the soft muscles in her body twisted his finger.

"My God." Draco sighed as if tortured.

It marked the limit of his self-control, and Hermione was limp and trembling when Draco gently spread Hermione's legs wider and slammed in while she was still in the aftertaste. , the impact was so hard that her feet curled up.

Hermione really felt pierced, and Draco remained completely still with his eyes closed, letting the tide of her excitement wash over his hardness.

Then he started to move, thrusting her back up with a heavy, determined thrust, without saying a word at all.With every deep exploration, she held her breath a little, and the water almost submerged her.It was wonderful, every thrust and tug, every time his tip seemed to hit the deepest part of her that was most exciting and longing.

After a while Hermione ran out of strength to hold herself up, and Draco took over the task, lifting her whole.

Now face to face, Hermione found Draco's lips and kissed him with love and passion.

She could feel his breathing becoming erratic, and when it reached its climax he was pressing deeper and deeper into hers, their lips still intertwined, sharing each other's hot breath.Hermione closed her eyes, silently feeling how he felt as he gave all his enthusiasm.

After recovering, Hermione opened her eyes wide and looked at Draco. She wanted to say something sweet, but what she said was: "Malfoy, I feel like I'm going to faint."

He immediately put her down, turned off the water, and the two cuddled each other in the steam in the room to rest for a while.

"I'm glad you came tonight, even if I almost chopped off your beautiful head," Hermione said, burying herself in his chest.

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was tired now, and she remembered what it was like when they were done.She babbles, and he gets lost in thought.

"I didn't expect this," Draco said, rubbing his face against Hermione's neck. "If I had to plan, we'd at least be having dinner now."

He sounded so guilty it made Hermione laugh.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, "I'll make something to eat."

"You want to cook?"

The smell of burnt spaghetti in the living room spoke volumes.

Hermione ignored the skepticism in his words, but she forgave him because he was polite enough to wrap her in a towel and lead her back to the bedroom.

The author has something to say:

I am exhausted...