*Lemon*
She was ruinous.
I had known desire before—fleeting, meaningless, controlled. But this—this was something else entirely. It was heat, raw and all-consuming, the kind of fire that left no part of me untouched.
She was everywhere. Surrounding me. Taking me in. Destroying me.
And I wanted it.
I wanted all of it.
The world had narrowed down to nothing but her.
Hermione beneath me, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her skin flushed and warm beneath my hands. The way she felt—soft and unyielding, silk and fire all at once—was enough to undo me completely. My control, my restraint, every carefully measured thought I had ever held onto—it was all gone. She had stripped me bare, unraveled me piece by piece, and I could do nothing but give in to it.
To her.
Her nails raked across my back, leaving behind stinging trails that only fueled the inferno burning in my veins. The sounds she made—small, breathless whimpers and desperate moans—drove me to the brink of insanity. I wanted to hear more. I wanted to feel more. I wanted to ruin her, completely and thoroughly, the same way she had ruined me.
"Draco," she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me down, forcing our lips together in a kiss so desperate it made my head spin.
Fuck.
I couldn't get enough of her.
I ground against her, feeling the heat of her body, the way she arched into me, the way she took every single thing I gave her and demanded more. She was intoxicating. She was magic. My name fell from her lips again, and I groaned into her mouth, swallowing the sound like it belonged to me.
She did belong to me.
I needed her to know that.
I needed to show her.
I bit down on her lower lip, dragging my teeth across the swollen flesh before soothing it with my tongue. My hand slid down her side, gripping the curve of her hip, holding her still as I thrust into her again, deeper this time, harder. Her body clenched around me, and she cried out, her back arching, her fingers digging into my arms.
"Fuck, Granger," I muttered, my voice rough and shaking as I buried my face in the crook of her neck. "You're—bloody hell—you feel—"
She made a noise that sent a shudder through me, her hands roaming across my back, pulling me impossibly closer.
I didn't know how long we moved together, lost in the push and pull of it, but something was building—something thick and electric, something more than just us.
Magic crackled in the air like a living thing.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the atmosphere, the unmistakable weight of power pressing down on us, charging the air with something ancient and unstoppable.
Hermione must have felt it too, because she gasped, her body tensing beneath me.
"Draco—"
And then everything exploded.
A surge of raw, unfiltered magic erupted around us, shaking the very foundations of the manor. The walls groaned, the lanterns flickered wildly, and for one breathless moment, reality itself seemed to fracture.
And then—
They were there.
Real. Whole. Flesh and blood.
Tenebris and Solara.
Not mere shadows. Not spiritual echoes.
Alive.
I tore my gaze away from Hermione, my body still tangled with hers, my breath still coming in ragged pants, and looked at them.
Tenebris stood at the foot of the bed, his massive wings stretched wide, his dark flames licking at the air but no longer intangible. His obsidian scales gleamed under the dim light, and his eyes—those endless pits of black fire—met mine with something close to satisfaction.
Solara was beside him, just as imposing, just as real. Her golden feathers shimmered, her fire no longer flickering at the edges of existence but burning bright and true. She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Hermione, a look of fierce approval flashing in her sunlit eyes.
I swallowed, my pulse pounding in my ears.
"Granger," I rasped, still struggling to catch my breath, my hands still gripping her body like I was afraid to let go. "Look."
Hermione lifted her head, her curls wild and tangled, her lips swollen and her body still trembling from our release. She followed my gaze, and the second she saw them, her breath caught.
She didn't move.
She didn't speak.
She simply stared, wide-eyed, at the creatures that had once been bound to us in nothing more than spectral form.
And now—
Now they were real.
She slowly sat up, dragging the sheets with her, her fingers trembling as she reached out toward Solara. The phoenix let out a soft, almost approving trill and leaned into her touch.
A sharp exhale left Hermione’s lips. "They're… real."
I ran a shaky hand down my face, forcing myself to sit up as well. "Yeah," I said, my voice hoarse. "They are."
The weight of what had just happened settled over us.
This wasn't just about magic.
This was about us.
The bond.
The acceptance of it.
The choice.
Tenebris' deep, rumbling voice filled my mind like an undeniable truth. You have chosen her. And she has chosen you.
I turned to Hermione, and when our eyes met, something passed between us—something deeper than words, something that tied us together in ways even magic couldn't explain.
She had been trying to get me to choose her.
But in the end, she hadn't needed to.
Because I already had.
And the proof of it stood before us, breathing, alive, whole.
There was no turning back now.
The weight of what had just happened settled over me like a force I wasn’t ready to reckon with.
I could still feel her—Hermione—her skin flushed beneath my touch, the heat of her body pressed against mine, the way she had trembled, gasped, let go for me. But now, in the aftermath, in the charged air between us, something even more overwhelming loomed before us.
Tenebris.
Solara.
They were real.
Not echoes, not shadows, not flickering remnants of an ancient magic we barely understood.
They stood before us, whole.
My fingers twitched against the sheets, my breathing still uneven. The rawness of what had just happened—of what we’d done—clashed against the surreal sight of the creatures before me.
Tenebris was watching me, his black-fire eyes burning with something I couldn’t name. Approval, maybe. Possession. Recognition.
As if he had known.
As if he had been waiting for me to accept what had always been inevitable.
You have chosen her. And she has chosen you.
The words echoed in my mind, deep and final.
Hermione exhaled sharply beside me, shifting, the sheets rustling as she sat up. I felt her hesitance before I saw it—the way she clutched the fabric to her chest, the way her lips parted, words hovering on the edge but never quite making it out.
Because what the hell was there to say?
I ran a hand down my face, trying to process, but every inch of me still felt her—her taste on my tongue, her scent in my lungs, the way her body had burned against mine.
This wasn’t just sex.
It had never been just sex.
My gaze flickered to Tenebris, to the way his obsidian scales gleamed in the dim light, to the tendrils of dark energy that still curled around his massive form. He was solid. There was no denying it. No convincing myself this was some lingering effect of dream magic or an Eidolon trick.
This was real.
I had made this real.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “Granger.”
Hermione turned to look at me then, and—fuck.
Her eyes were different.
They always held fire, but now? Now they were knowing. Now they had seen me in a way I hadn’t let anyone see me before. She had felt everything, and I had let her. And somehow, that was more terrifying than the fucking ancient magic that had just been unleashed.
But she didn’t look afraid.
She looked like she understood.
“Draco,” she whispered, and it sent a shiver through me. My name, spoken without hesitation. Without mockery. Without restraint.
I clenched my jaw. “This—” I gestured vaguely, as if that could sum up everything—the sex, the magic, the creatures now staring at us like they knew more than we did. “This was never supposed to happen.”
Her brows furrowed. “But it did.”
She was right.
It had.
The inevitability of it clawed at my ribs, pressed into my lungs.
Hermione turned back to Solara, her fingers twitching before she finally reached out, brushing along the golden feathers of her phoenix. Solara didn’t flicker or waver. She leaned into Hermione’s touch, her warmth filling the air around her like sunlight on bare skin.
Hermione inhaled sharply, like the reality of it had just hit her.
“They feel different,” she murmured, tracing the curve of Solara’s wing. “They aren’t just—just manifestations anymore. They have—” she turned back to me, her throat bobbing as she struggled to find the right word. “Weight.”
I knew what she meant.
I felt it.
I could feel Tenebris in a way I hadn’t before. He wasn’t just an extension of my magic anymore—wasn’t just the dark force tethered to me in the background. He was present. Breathing. Alive in a way that went beyond magic.
His energy thrummed through my veins, echoing in my bones, as if he were part of me now.
And fuck, maybe he was.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to think past the rush of realization, past the way Hermione was still too close, past the way my body still wanted her despite the insanity of what had just happened.
“We did this,” I said, my voice rough.
Hermione swallowed. “Yes.”
“Because of—” I hesitated, the words thick on my tongue. “Because of us.”
A pause.
A long one.
I watched her, waiting for the denial, for the logical explanation, for the desperate attempt to rationalize what we both knew to be true.
But she didn’t deny it.
Her gaze flickered to mine, searching, questioning. Waiting.
I exhaled heavily, dragging my fingers through my hair. “This isn’t just some side effect of the bond, is it?”
She shook her head, slow. “No.”
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Fucking hell.”
Hermione bit her lip, hesitating before she spoke again. “What if—” she started, stopping to take a breath. “What if this was always meant to happen? Not just our bond, not just them, but this—this moment. Us.”
Her voice was careful, but there was something else beneath it. Something deeper.
I stared at her.
For so long, I had fought this. Fought the idea that I was tethered to her in a way I couldn’t escape. Fought the way my chest reacted every time she challenged me, every time she stood her ground, every time she made me see something in myself I hadn’t wanted to face.
But now?
Now there was nothing left to fight.
My hand flexed against the sheets.
“We’re bound,” I said finally, the admission scraping its way up my throat. “Not just by magic. Not just by circumstance.”
Her breath hitched.
By choice.
That was the difference.
That was why Tenebris and Solara weren’t just shadows anymore.
They had become real.
Because we had.
Hermione nodded, slow, measured. Her fingers curled into the sheets as she met my gaze. “So what now?” she asked.
I didn’t have an answer.
Not yet.
But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to find one.