Lover
She had always told herself that she would never fall so quickly for a man with only flattering words that were a poor substitute for sincerity. At least, she would have told herself that if there had ever been any chance of it ever happening.
But that was how it had happened. He had come up to her in that corridor, in the middle of the night when he really should have been on the other side of the castle. Swiftly like a feline stalking its prey, he had struck. Pushing her up against the wall and attaching his mouth to her neck, he had mumbled his secret love for her and her alone.
Hermione had been shocked- shocked beyond reason – and had not been able to move at all, as his hands, lips and very being did things to her that Hermione Jane Granger should not have known of until her wedding night.
He was a gentle lover – at first – muttering words of love and how he would make the world her’s, that he would be her absolute slave. That there would be none other than her – ever. Then, as he had lifted her skirt, kissed her hard and passionately, pulled her panties aside and she had heard the forceful zip of his trousers zipper she knew that he only and one thing in mind.
But this was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. Why her, why now? They were the words that were running through her mind as he kissed her again, his free hand pulling her top away, her sweet peaches being revealed to him and his soft and gentle touches sending passionate fire down her spine. She happened to know for a fact that Draco was “engaged” to Pansy Parkinson, if that really was the word, but at that moment, the feeling of his hands and his lips on her, the thought of the brunette Slytherin sharing his bed – and she most likely had – was not on her mind.
Instead, she focused on the feeling of his fingers and at last, his hardness. She shivered, cried and stifled her screams. He was gentle, saying simple words and calming her down – it was obvious he had enough experience in this particular area. Half an hour later, he found his cloud of passion and breathed heavily in her ear. Panting hard, he pulled himself from her, kissing her cheeks and lips lightly.
As he tucked himself away, he stole a look over at her, standing there with a startled look on her face. A face that said that she had been fucked. Her hair stood on ends- more so than often – her breasts were shining with sweat, her skirt had fallen back down between her legs but her panties had somehow been ripped and were now being held by one side, the soft lacy fabric falling down from under her skirt.
Smiling, he came up to her, pulled the panties away and tucked them in his back pocket. He pulled her bar from her arms, putting it in the pocket of his robe and pulled her shirt together to cover her breasts. Pulling her own robe around her, he lent down to her ear and whispered, “Thanks for the shag, Mudblood. We’ll have to do this again. I’ll owl you when I want another piece of that Gryffindor magic.”
Hermione was stunned, but speechless. She watched as he walked away from her, his casual step not at all showing that he had emptied his vigor inside her minutes before. Still stunned, Hermione pulled her robe tightly around her and headed back to her dormitory. Hopefully, no one would be able to notice that anything happened.
Warrior
Draco Malfoy’s world has always been set. He would grow up, graduate from Hogwarts and head to a wizard’s collage to study politics, and follow in his father’s footsteps to become a Ministry member. He would marry Pansy Parkinson, the one girl that he had managed to stay with through his entire Hogwarts existence, and they would have a male heir first and then maybe some girls.
But when he took Hermione Granger as a lover, he knew things would start getting difficult. He had to start making up lies to Pansy as to why he didn’t sleep with her every other night. He would instead make his way to that same corridor that he and Hermione had first had their “meeting” in seven weeks ago. She would be waiting for him, in the shadows and all rugged up in her robe, scarf and gloves. Being the middle of winter, he didn’t blame her.
On one particular night, he came around the corner to see her sitting on the cold stone floor. He smiled, still thanking who ever answered his wishes for her coming when she did, but that smile instantly left his face when she turned to face him. There across her face was a black, almost purplish bruise. Running down to kneel beside her, he pulled her hands away when she tried to hide it.
“Who!?” was the simple question he greeted her with. Somehow, when they had started this “affair” – would be the appropriate word -, Draco knew that this would soon happen. Someone had found out and had taken it out on the weaker of the two.
“Dean,” she muttered, of her ex-boyfriend of whom she had broken up with when she had started seeing Draco. His face turned red. “Please, Draco don’t. He doesn’t know about us, he’s just angry.” Draco wanted to strangle her right there and then. He wanted to raise his own hand and slap her silly for even thinking such a stupid thing. But he didn’t. He just sat down next to her and breathed out heavily.
Silence for what felt like years followed. The way that Draco had his head back against the stone wall, his eyes shut and looking like he was at perfect peace made Hermione think he was asleep. He opened his eyes –startling her- and stood up. He offered his hand to her and she took it, feeling herself being pulled up into his arms.
“You’re mine, Hermione,” he whispered. He had stopped using that horrible “Mudblood” term weeks ago, only doing it to annoy her at first. “And everyone is going to know about it.”
Hermione thought he was only kidding when he had said that but at breakfast the next morning she would learn her lesson about Draco Malfoy- he kept his word.
Draco had spent the remainder of the night awake with his best mate, Blaise Zabini, in their private room going over his plan. Blaise wasn’t surprised in the least when Draco told him that he had been sleeping with Hermione – he had began to suspect something when Pansy had come to him and begged him to fuck her. He had, politely, declined her request, telling her he didn’t take sloppy seconds. Pansy had gone crazy, slapping Blaise across the face and stalking off. When Blaise had told him and shown him what had happened, Draco couldn’t help but laugh at his friend.
“You owe me one,” Blaise said, “Stupid bitch.”
“I’ll owe you two after this.”
Draco and Blaise had entered the Great Hall at breakfast together. Blaise had patted his friend on the back and headed to the Slytherin table. Draco took a deep breath before making his way over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione had just taken a bite of a piece of toast when Draco appeared at her side. She nearly chocked when he sat down.
“Draco,” she whispered the eyes of all the other Gryffindors on her, “What are you doing?”
“Sitting with my girlfriend,” he replied, making Harry and Ron look up from their conversation and finally notice Malfoy sitting there. The two jumped up from their seats and pointed their wands at him.
“Bugger off Malfoy,” Ron spat, “before I hex you to hell.”
“Oh well, Hermione, shall we leave?” Draco asked her, standing up and offering her hand to him. Looking at her friends, whose surprised faces made her giggle inside, she took his hand.
“Hermione? You’re not really with this git, are you?” Harry asked.
“Yes, Harry, I am.” Harry and Ron went red; the reddest Hermione had ever seen them.
As the two turned to leave the table, Draco stopped and turned to face Dean who was shaking in his seat.
“Oh and Dean, if you ever, EVER, lay another hand on Hermione, I won’t stop in fucking killing you, understand?” After a small nod from Dean, Draco turned and took Hermione’s hand.
As the two walked out of the Great Hall, the eyes of teachers and students alike on them, all that was going through Hermione’s mind was that Draco was a warrior.
Rebel
It was a well known fact that Draco wasn’t the nicest person at Hogwarts. And when he constantly seen people, from other houses and his own, whispering when he and Hermione walked down the corridors together, he didn’t feel any shame turning around and hexing them. Even if it meant four hours of detention with Snape.
Draco was very protective of Hermione. He knew what would happen when his father found out (and left to his house, Lucius would know about it by new mail day) and his father would then tell Voldemort and then they would all be in danger. When Draco wasn’t around – be it because of Quidditch, Head duties, detention or some other stupid reason – he would have Blaise help him out. When he did finish detention, he would head to the library, where he would find Blaise and Hermione at one of the large tables with books all around them. He would sneak up on Hermione, kiss her cheek and sit down with them.
The only Gryffindor who still spoke to Hermione was Neville Longbottom. He would sit next to her in classes she didn’t have with Blaise or Draco and Hermione had a feeling that the two boys had sat down with Neville and given him a “chat.” Not that she minded. It was the stares she got that annoyed her.
One night, when she lay in bed with Draco, his tongue tracing the same pattern around her belly, she sighed heavily and turned away from his erotic touches onto her side. A half naked Draco looked over her, wondering what was wrong with his passionate lover.
“Hermione?” he whispered, “whats wrong?”
“Everything,” she replied, and Draco could hear the beginning sniffles and sobs, “everyone hates me, I just miss everyone and things are just…screwed up.”
“Its not your fault, Hermione,” Draco said, spooning his body behind hers, wrapping his arms around her. “They chose not to speak to you again.”
“But with Voldemort still out there, we shouldn’t have come clean about our relationship,” Hermione said, wiping her eyes of tears, “We should have waited.”
“Screw Voldemort. I want to be with you and I won’t let anything, or anyone come between that. You love me right,” he asked, receiving a nod in agreement, “then that’s all that matters.”
“But everything with Harry and Ron and the Gryffindors…is just so screwed up.”
Draco didn’t say anything to Hermione after that, and she didn’t say anything to him. After a few minutes, Draco heard the gentle breathing coming from Hermione. Slowly getting up off the bed, Draco dressed and headed out of the room.
As he walked through the Slytherin common room, Blaise tried to talk to his friend, but when he saw the way Draco was walking, the look of his face, he backed off and let his friend continue on his way.
Draco pounded on the door to the Gryffindor Common room ten minutes later and a sleepy eyed Neville answered.
“Where’s Potter! I need to talk to him,” Draco stated. Neville nodded and disappeared back inside. Not a minute later he appeared again, Harry behind him. On closer inspection, Draco seen Ron and Dean with him.
“Potter, we need to talk,” Draco said, “You and your little bodyguards.”
“Anything you have to say Malfoy, can’t be worth listening to,” Ron replied.
“Did I speak to you, Weasley?” Draco spat, clenching his fist under his robes. “Its about Hermione.”
Harry, for the first time, said something. “Hermione? Whats wrong with her?”
“She’s upset, and you would be as well if you very best friends turned their back on you just because of the boy that she fell in love with. You need to grow up Potter, we’re seventeen, not seven,” Draco answered. “She’s been so upset since you stopped talking to her. Crying every night.”
“Well you don’t think its our fault do you?” Dean asked.
“Like hell I don’t,” Draco replied, “The only reason we came clean was because of what YOU did. Or have you not told them what you did.”
“Dean, what is he talking about?” Harry asked.
“Nothing,” Dean replied, raising his wand and pointing it at Draco. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy, I never hurt Hermione.”
“Yeah right, should I show them the bruises.” Dean lunged at Draco, forgetting his wand and the two boys struggled on the ground. Draco punched Dean, while Dean kicked Draco. Harry and Ron tried to tear the two boys apart but they were hell bent on attacking each other.
“Stop this now!” shouted a new voice. The two boys were pulled apart, Draco thrown against the right wall, Dean against the left. McGonagall stood over them, wand lit up.
“What is going on, Mr Malfoy? Mr Thomas?”
“Nothing,” Draco said, “Just some harmless fun.”
“Mr. Malfoy, I suggest that you return to the dungeons. I will speak to Professor Snape about your behavior. 100 points will be taken from Slytherin. Mr. Thomas, you and your friends should go back to bed. I shall speak to you all in the morning. Fifty points each from Gryffindor.”
McGonagall turned on her heel and left, leaving the boys facing each other again. Draco wiped the blood from his lip and smiled.
“And that’s just him hitting me,” Draco said, “Imagine what Hermione would have looked like if I hadn’t stepped in. Just a reminder.”
As Draco walked off, Harry called out, “Malfoy!” Turning, Draco faced his rival. “Look after he for us, please. We’ll…we’ll come back to her soon. I promise. We just need some time.”
“As long as there is hope,” Draco said, a small smile on his face, “that’s all I ask for.”
King
Three years later, they had graduated Hogwarts together and had moved into a small home. Harry and Ron and her old Gryffindor friends had stopped talking about her the moment they found out that she was sleeping with him. Now, three years later, Hermione only had Draco and his friend Blaise to talk to. And that sometimes wasn’t enough. She missed her best friends deeply.
On one cold winter afternoon, Hermione felt rather sick. After nearly an hour in the bathroom bringing up her breakfast, Hermione summoned a medi-witch and asked for help.
“Congratulations, Miss Granger, you’re pregnant.”
Hermione didn’t know weather to laugh or cry. When Draco and Blaise returned home from work that afternoon, they found Hermione in the bathroom, throwing up. Draco rushed to her side and asked what was wrong. With a simple smile, Hermione told him the good news.
Eight and a half months later, Hermione gave birth to a son –Dracius Blaise Malfoy-Granger- and Draco could not have been prouder. Blaise was instantly named god father of Dracius. It was only three weeks later, when Hermione was feeding her son that the fireplace in the nursery lit green and not a second later three people stood in her home.
Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. And Dean Thomas.
She knew they would be shocked, scared even, to see her with a child. But when Harry came over to her, placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to look at the baby, Hermione was the shocked one.
“We need to talk,” Harry whispered, seeing the baby doze off, “it’s not safe here for you anymore.”
Draco had come home to seeing three old enemies in his lounge room, sipping tea and munching on muffins. Instantly, he raised his wand. Hermione jumped up and explained the situation. Sitting down next to Hermione, he listened with interest to the story the three had to tell.
Supposedly, someone was going to try and bring back the Dark Lord again.
“But how?” Draco asked, “Potter, you killed him. I saw the dust.”
“I don’t know,” Harry stated, “something about blood.”
“It’s always about blood.”
“It’s not safe here, for any of you. You need to move.”
“Why? He wouldn’t dare come after me,” Draco said, “not after what happened with Snape.”
“Malfoy,” Harry snapped, “I won’t leave Hermione here with you if you’re going to be hot-headed. He will come after everyone, EVERYONE, who betrayed him. What do you think he will do when he finds out that you have a son?”
At the thought of loosing his son, Draco paled. Hermione placed her hand on his arm.
“We’ll listen Harry,” Hermione stated, “Draco, please.”
Half an hour later, Hermione, Draco, their son and the three visitors were in a safe house they would share with the Potters and Weasleys. Ginny hugged Hermione as soon as she seen her and the two went off with Dracius to get caught up on all the news.
When Ron came back from one of his mission, battered and bruised and close to death, he told them all his news. “He’s back and he knows about Dracius. He’s going to kill him.”
Draco jumped from his seat and left the room. Hermione could hear the screams and hollers coming from the next room. She knew when to leave her lover alone, when he needed to be alone. But Hermione knew what was coming. He was going again. He was stepping into danger and grabbing it fiercely by the collar, taunting it. He was going into battle. For her sake…for their sake.
For his son. He was going to defend them with his life, with every molecule of life inside of him that made him who he was. He would fight until there was nothing left inside of him… this she knew all too well. He always pushed himself to the edge. He was going into battle with his head held high to defend everything that he loved and cared about.
That night, she sat on their bed as he changed. Dracius was sleeping in the small crib beside their bed. She turned and looked at him in the corner of the room. He was leaving soon and that would mean that she would have to wait and see what happened. The waiting and the uncertainty was the most difficult to bear.
Not knowing what was happening to him was the worst of all. He had gone to battle before, but this time she had a bad feeling deep in her stomach. She hoped it did not mean what she thought it did. She could not bear to think what it would be like without him, what it would be like for Dracius not to have a father around. She shifted on the bed, still deep in her fearful thoughts.
Draco came towards and lifted her into his arms, his hands gently running up and down her back. Hermione put her arms around his neck, hugging him close. She did not need his words. She just needed his touch and his comfort. He was about to say something, but she stopped him by putting a finger on his lips.
“You'll come back when it's over, no need to say goodbye.” A tear trickling down her cheek. He held her gaze, gently wiping the stray tear away. Draco remembered the first time he had held her like this and he knew it would be that way until the day he died. He could tell Hermione was remembering the very first time he had held her like there had been no tomorrow. Her eyes showed it all. “You’re my king. You’ll always be my king. Dracius… he’s your reason for living.”
“Hermione,” he whispered, “I will return to you, I promise and I swear.”
“You will always be my lover, my warrior, my rebel. My king,” she whispered back, bringing him to her and kissing him hard and with a passion that he knew only in the bedroom. His hands wrapped in her hair, pulling her as close to him as he could get her. As they parted, Draco pulled away from her and left the room.
Hermione heard Dracius wake up and begin to cry. She walked over to the crib and lifted her son out. Slowly, she walked over to the large bay window and looked out. There, standing on a hill by the house were five people. Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus and Draco. They were standing around an old boot, the portkey that would take Draco away from Hermione for who knew how long. He looked up at her as Harry started the countdown. Slowly, he raised his hand to her in a gentle wave. Smiling gently, Hermione raised her own hand to him. As the sun came up behind the hill, the five touched the boot and disappeared.
Dracius began to gurgle and as Hermione watched the sun slowly begin to rise into the sky. It was a new day with new possibilities and Hermione knew that Draco would return to her.
Fin
Okay, this seemed like the best place to stop. I hope that this story was enjoyed. It took me a long time to come up with this concept and I wanted to draw on it as much as I could. I hope that this story answered everything you wanted and I wanted to thank you for challenging me. Thanks again for letting me participate in this years exchange, it was great fun! Cannot wait till I am revealed, so I can tell you more about what this story means to me, how I wrote it and just general ideas I had that didn’t make it in.
