The Viper's Nest
Hermione (Present)
The following afternoon, sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Hermione as she sat on the edge of her bed, her heart thrumming with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Ruby was snuggled in her lap, gently nuzzling against her arm.
The prospect of having the magical cuff removed, of feeling the familiar pulse of magic coursing through her veins once more, filled her with longing. Yet, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. She had to play a dangerous game, one that required her to walk a treacherous tightrope of deception. She needed Draco to believe she was softening towards him, that her anger was slowly chipping away. But beneath the surface, her conflicting emotions raged like wildfire.
Hatred burned fiercely within her - hatred for Draco for what he had done to Arys, for shattering her world with his betrayal. Self-loathing gnawed at her, for the undeniable flicker of desire she still felt for the man who had caused so much pain. The memory of their near-kiss the day before haunted her, a cruel reminder of her own weakness.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and conjured Arys's image in her mind. His warm smile, his infectious laughter, his kind heart - these were the anchors that kept her grounded. "You must protect Arys at all costs," she whispered, her mantra a lifeline in the turbulent sea of her emotions. She repeated the words, a rhythmic incantation that steadied her resolve, her fingers absently stroking Ruby's fur as she prepared to face the man who gripped her heart and Arys’s future in his cold hands.
A knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. A wave of nervous energy washed over her as she called out, “Come in.”
The door creaked open, revealing Draco, his tall frame filling the doorway. He was dressed entirely in black, his usual attire, but today it seemed to accentuate the shadows swirling in his eyes. Ruby, sensing his presence, leaped from Hermione's lap and rubbed against his legs affectionately.
So it’s not just me with a traitorous heart, Hermione thought wryly, watching the interaction.
Draco's gaze swept across the room, taking in the familiar surroundings as if he hadn't been there in years. She wondered if he had ever entered her room during her absence; it had appeared untouched upon her return. But now, his presence filled the space and she found it difficult to breathe.
Rising from the bed, she walked towards her closet. "What are you wearing?" Draco asked, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity.
She glanced down at her pants. "They are muggle jeans," she replied. "I had Dolly pick up a few new clothing items for me." Her old clothes hung loosely on her frame now, proof of the physical and emotional toll of the past year.
She noticed Draco's gaze linger on her legs for a moment before returning to her face.
"I like them," he said simply.
"Thanks," she replied, pulling a black jumper over her head.
Despite her attempt to maintain composure, her heart pounded in her chest at his proximity. It felt odd to have him in her room. That, combined with desire to have the cuff removed, to feel the surge of magic once again, was nearly overwhelming.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Yes," he answered, stepping closer. He reached for her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, a wave of warmth rushed up her arm, igniting a familiar feeling within her. She had missed his touch, but the connection that had once felt so natural was just confusing now.
With a familiar crack, they apparated, leaving the confines of her room behind.
They materialized in a vast meadow, a breathtaking explosion of autumn colors encircling them. The ground was a plush carpet of fallen leaves, a blast of reds, oranges, and yellows, rustling softly beneath their feet. The surrounding trees stood stark and bare, their gnarled branches reaching towards the pale sky like skeletal fingers.
"Where are we?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.
"We are still on the estate...just a bit further than I believe you have ever been. I wanted to make sure you had plenty of space, as I am not sure how your body will react to having the cuff removed after suppressing your magic for so long."
"That makes sense," she replied, a nervous energy coursing through her veins. She kicked at the leaves, the crisp sound echoing in the stillness of the meadow.
Draco watched her, his eyes distant and unreadable. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial filled with a clear liquid.
"What's that?" She asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Veritaserum."
"Okay... what is it for?" She pressed, her voice laced with apprehension.
"Before I remove the cuff, I have a few questions I want to ask you. Since I can no longer hear your thoughts or enter your mind, this is the only way I can ensure your honesty."
She scoffed. "That was not part of the bargain... I am not taking that." Her training with Neville flashed through her mind. She knew how to sidestep questions under the influence of Veritaserum, but it was a dangerous game, and the stakes were too high.
"I am not removing the cuff unless you take it," he said firmly.
She bit her lip, her mind racing. She needed her magic back, but at what cost?
"I am not taking it unless you do too," she countered, her voice steady.
Draco's expression remained impassive as he uncorked the vial and took a long swig of the potion. He held it out to her, a silent challenge in his eyes.
She knew this was a terrible idea, but the yearning to feel her magic again, to reclaim her power, outweighed her reservations. She approached him, her gaze locked with his, and took the vial. With a defiant stare, she took a hesitant sip, the tasteless potion sliding down her throat.
They stood in silence for a few moments. Finally, Draco spoke.
"Do you plan to hurt yourself or escape if I remove the cuff?"
"No," she answered truthfully, her voice clear and unwavering.
"What would you do if I escaped?" She shot back, her curiosity getting the best of her.
"I would find you," he answered, a tinge of irritation creeping into his voice.
"Why?" She wondered aloud, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Because only I can keep you safe... and you agreed to be mine. I warned you the last night we were together that there was no going back," He responded slowly, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"Do you think of that last night often?" She asked bravely.
"Yes, every single day," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Do you?" He asked hesitantly, his gaze searching hers.
"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why are you occluding?" She couldn't stand it anymore; she had to know.
"It's easier to be near you this way," he said, his jaw clenched, the only hint of the emotions he was clearly suppressing.
"Why?" She pressed, her voice soft but insistent.
"Because it's painful to see the way you look at me." The words seemed to stumble out of him, despite the shields he had erected.
Her breath hitched. The raw truth of his words caught her off guard.
"Please stop occluding," she said softly.
He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes locked with hers. Then, slowly, the clouds in his eyes began to dissipate, revealing the pain and conflict that lay beneath. His eyebrows furrowed, and a frown etched itself onto his face.
She carefully chose her next words. "Do you regret what you've done to Arys?"
"No… I don't," his answer was cold and emotionless, and she felt a surge of anger at his lack of remorse.
"Where have you been for the last year?" He countered quickly, his voice sharp.
"In muggle London," she replied, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.
"With whom?" He pressed, his eyes narrowing.
"Friends," she said shortly, her defenses rising.
"Other than the soldier, has anyone hurt you in the last year?" He asked, his eyes darkening with a dangerous intensity.
"Yes," she responded breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest.
His voice was low and dangerous. "Who?" he growled.
"You did," she said, her voice firm, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a deep sadness that seemed to weigh him down.
"Did I ever make you happy?" he asked, his voice hesitant, almost pleading.
"Yes," she answered honestly. "Some of my fondest memories are ones that we shared."
"Will you ever forgive me for what I have done?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers, desperately.
She paused, weighing her answer carefully. If she got Arys back, if everything worked out the way she hoped, maybe she could find a way to forgive him. Things would never be the same, but perhaps, just perhaps, forgiveness was possible.
"I don't know," she said slowly. "Possibly."
A glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes. He slowly nodded and approached her. His fingers gently tightened around hers and she hated the way her stomach flipped in response.
He raised his wand, its tip glowing faintly as he held it close to the cuff. Her eyes followed his every move, her breath caught in her throat. The soft whisper of the incantation filled the air, a melody of magic that promised her freedom. She watched his lips carefully, her eyes narrowed, as she listened intently, trying to commit every syllable to memory.
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "Trying to decipher the spell?" he asked, a playful lilt in his voice.
She blushed slightly. "It's not every day one encounters a magical artifact designed specifically for a level ten," she replied, her tone a mix of admiration and frustration.
"True," Draco conceded. "It's a simple unlocking charm, but I imbued the cuff with an additional layer of protection. Only a witch or wizard with exceptional magical power, a level ten, can break its hold." His gaze met hers, a silent acknowledgment of their shared, extraordinary abilities. "And as you know, you and I are the only ones identified at level ten."
Her heart skipped a beat. The weight of his words settled upon her, this added a new layer of difficulty to her plan. She released a pent up breath and her shoulders slouched in defeat.
As he resumed the incantation, his voice a steady rhythm, she closed her eyes, her senses heightened. She could feel the magic thrumming in the air.
The click of the cuff unlocking echoed in the stillness of the meadow, a sound both distant and profound. In an instant, a surge of magic, raw and untamed, flooded through her veins, so intense that it brought her to her knees. Draco, his hand still clasped in hers, was pulled down with her, their gazes locked in a shared moment of overwhelming power.
Tears welled up in her eyes, not from pain but from the intensity of emotions: relief, joy, and an almost unbearable sense of completeness. She felt whole again, her magic surging through her like the sun. She resisted the urge to sob, focusing instead on the incredible sensation of her magic reawakening.
Her hands instinctively moved to her chest, Draco's hands still entwined with hers. He pressed his hand against her heart as he watched her. She took a deep breath, the euphoric feeling spreading from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a breathtaking sight: golden energy, like shimmering threads, danced between them, weaving an intricate web of connection. Draco's eyes were closed now, his face etched with a mixture of wonder and pain.
She finally let the tears flow freely. They knelt there for what felt like an eternity, amidst the autumn leaves, bound by a shared experience of magic and pain.
When she finally felt steady enough to stand, she couldn't contain her joy. She began casting spells, her laughter echoing through the meadow as she reveled in the sheer bliss of wielding her magic once more. After a few minutes of pure, unadulterated happiness, she dared to look at Draco. He was still kneeling, his gaze fixed on her, a pained expression on his face. She could swear his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the meadow, a sense of dread crept into her heart. The hour of her newfound freedom was slipping away, and the thought of losing her magic again, of being shackled once more, was almost unbearable.
Draco rose from his kneeling position, the cuff held firmly in his hand. He approached her, his eyes clouded once again. Her stomach churned with a mixture of anger and despair. She hated him for this, for the cold, calculated way he wielded his power over her.
He clasped the cuff around her wrist, his touch devoid of any warmth or tenderness. The cold metal against her skin felt like a brand, a symbol of her captivity. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to break free from this agonizing cycle of hope and despair. She felt so empty. But she didn't. Instead, she took deep, steadying breaths, fighting back the tears of sadness that threatened to spill over.
Without a word, she turned away from him, unable to meet his gaze. The betrayal and pain pierced through her like a thousand knives, leaving her feeling hollow and broken. She walked away, her footsteps heavy on the soft earth.
The tranquil beauty of the sunset did little to soothe her aching heart. Draco's voice sliced through the silence, "Can I show you something tonight?"
Emotions surged within her. She wanted to scream, to unleash the fury that simmered beneath the surface, to strike him, to reject him and flee as far away as possible. But she couldn't give in to her impulses, not when so much was at stake.
With great effort, she turned to face him once again, her features carefully composed, concealing the hatred and pain that raged within her. "Sure," she replied.
A few hours later, they embarked on a journey with an undisclosed destination. Her inquiries about their whereabouts were met with silence, leaving her both curious and apprehensive. Their journey began by floo to Hogsmeade, the familiar cobblestone streets and quaint shops momentarily easing her anxiety. However, their path soon diverged from the village, leading them into an unfamiliar expanse of forest. The branches above were skeletal and bare, their leaves creating a colorful carpet underfoot, whispering beneath their every step.
As they emerged from the treeline, her breath hitched in her throat. Before her, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, stood Hogwarts. It was even more magnificent than she had ever imagined. She stopped abruptly, her lungs momentarily forgetting their function, as she took in the sight.
The castle seemed to defy gravity, perched precariously atop a cliff that overlooked a vast, shimmering lake. Its ancient stone walls, weathered by time, rose towards the heavens, adorned with a multitude of turrets, spires, and towers. Countless windows, some small and square, others tall and arched, punctuated the castle, their glass panes reflecting the vibrant colors of the autumn sunset.
Bridges and walkways, some hidden in the shadows, others boldly exposed, crisscrossed between the various buildings, creating a labyrinth that seemed to shift and change with each passing moment. The castle's grounds were equally impressive, stretching out in sprawling lawns and dense forest. She could even make out the Quidditch pitch in the distance.
The sight of it, a place she had always dreamed of, stirred a bittersweet longing within her. She felt both joy and sorrow. She had been denied the experience of attending, but she was here now, and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.
An overwhelming tide of gratitude surged through her, catching her off guard. Her eyes traced the contours of the castle. Why had he brought her here? What hidden motive lay behind this unexpected gesture? Her mind raced, searching for an explanation, but only one answer seemed plausible: he wanted to make her happy. He knew what this would mean to her.
The realization pierced her heart like a shard of ice. A bittersweet ache settled in her chest, a painful reminder of what they had lost. Why did their story have to be so twisted and complicated? Why did he have to shatter their happiness, leaving them to navigate this treacherous landscape of love and betrayal?
An intense longing to reach out to him, to embrace him and feel the warmth of his arms around her, washed over her.
Draco's voice startled her. "Would you like to get a closer look?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the majestic castle in the distance.
She stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and hope warring within her. Her mind struggled to comprehend his words, to reconcile the man standing before her with the offer he had just made.
"You mean... go inside?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. The prospect of exploring Hogwarts, of actually walking the corridors, seemed too good to be true.
"Yes," he affirmed, a flicker of warmth in his eyes.
A radiant smile bloomed across her face, her heart leaping with joy. She nodded eagerly, barely able to contain her excitement.
His gaze lingered on her, his eyes shimmering with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher. A warmth, a tenderness, perhaps even a touch of longing, radiated from him, momentarily thawing the icy barriers that had formed between them. Then, with a gentle gesture, he extended his hand towards her.
She reached out and took his hand without hesitation.
Together, they walked towards the castle, their footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but rather a shared moment of anticipation. Something fragile hung in the air, but she didn't dare question it.
The hallowed halls of Hogwarts were dark and silent. Hermione, amidst this stillness, felt a profound sense of peace. Their initial destination was the iconic Great Hall, it was exactly as she had imagined, and she couldn't resist taking a seat at one of the long tables. For a moment, she got lost in a daydream. She imagined her and Arys, eating breakfast together before classes, stressing about upcoming homework assignments. But, it was Draco that sat across from her, the flickering candles above lighting his features. A subtle, knowing smile played on his lips.
“This is the Slytherin table,” he informed her. She took in the grandeur of the room, its vastness accentuated by the absence of students. "You would have probably sat over there," he added, his eyes darting towards another imposing table. She assumed it must have been the Gryffindor table.
“Where are all the students?” she asked curiously.
“It’s past curfew, so I’m guessing they're all tucked in their beds and common rooms.”
A sudden change in his demeanor caught her attention. “Someone’s coming,” he said, his eyes hinting that he had heard something in the distance. "The Headmaster."
She cringed inwardly, hoping to avoid Umbridge after their uncomfortable encounter over a year ago in Diagon Alley.
Draco seemed to sense her trepidation. "I removed Umbridge from her position as Headmaster once I gained control. Someone else, better suited, now runs the school."
Footsteps echoed from the hall, and Hermione glanced towards the grand door. Her breath hitched in her throat as she beheld a familiar, scowling face.
“Lord Malfoy,” Snape greeted as he entered the room. “I wasn’t expecting you. To what do we owe the -”
Snape’s words trailed off as his gaze met Hermione's. A mixture of surprise and awe washed over his features.
“Hermione?” he said hesitantly.
She couldn’t help the rush of emotions that overcame her. She had thought she would never see him again. She stood and approached him, Draco watching them curiously.
They stared at each other for a long moment before she flung her arms around him. He smiled more widely than she thought was possible for him as he returned her hug. They held each other in comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity.
“I never thought I would see you again,” she whispered into his ear. "It's so wonderful to see you."
“What a magnificent witch you have become,” he said, glancing toward her palm. "A Level Ten, that's no surprise." He looked proud, but also a hint of fear flickered in his eyes as he took in her appearance.
"I'll be showing her around the grounds," Draco interjected from his seat at the Slytherin table, his voice cutting through the tender moment.
Snape's face fell slightly, realizing their reunion was about to be cut short. "Will you stop by my office on your way out?" he asked her, his voice tinged with sadness.
Her gaze flickered to Draco, a spark of anger simmering beneath her skin. She remembered, with a pang of resentment, that he held complete control over her actions.
"Yes," was all Draco said in response.
They spent the next couple hours exploring Hogwarts. The moving staircases that seemed to have a mind of their own, and the portraits that whispered secrets as you passed – everything was magical and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. Every corner turned revealed something new and wondrous, leaving her in awe of the magic that permeated every inch of the place.
Their final stop was the Quidditch pitch, where Draco, with a glint in his eye, discovered an abandoned broom propped against the stands.
“Care for a ride?” he offered, a suspicious smirk playing on his lips as he stood a few meters away, gauging her reaction.
“No, thank you,” she declined coolly, her eyes narrowing.
He merely stared at her, his face alight with mischief.
“Malfoy, no,” she said firmly, her voice laced with warning as she realized his intentions.
But it was too late. With a burst of speed, he zoomed toward her on the broom. She screamed, turning and running in the opposite direction, her heart pounding in her chest. He leaned off the broom, his arm outstretched, and effortlessly grabbed her by the waist, lifting her off the ground and placing her in front of him on the broom. She screamed again, the sound echoing through the empty grounds as they soared high into the air, climbing towards the clouds.
The ground receded rapidly beneath them, a dizzying blur of green and gray. She instinctively tightened her grip on the broom, clinging on for dear life. But then she felt Draco’s strong arms encircling her waist, a comforting warmth radiating from his touch. The fear subsided, replaced by a sense of awe as she took in the breathtaking sight of Hogwarts from this perspective. The castle, bathed in the soft glow of the night, looked even more magnificent from up here. He held her tightly, his eyes fixed on her face, a tender expression softening his features. They weaved in and out of the castle towers, the wind whipping through their hair. Hermione, feeling a newfound trust, leaned back into him, her grip on the broom loosening as she surrendered to the moment.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered tales of the landmarks they passed. He pointed out the Forbidden Forest, and the towering Astronomy Tower where students could gaze at the stars. She listened intently, her heart filled with wonder. She had read about these places in countless books, but to see them now, from this extraordinary vantage point, was simply magical.
They slowed to a gentle hover near the Astronomy Tower, the wind tousling their hair as they hung suspended in the air. She turned to face him, and his smile, radiant in the twilight, sent a surprising jolt through her. With a mix of frustration and wonder, she realized how deeply she admired him at this moment. Unable to resist the pull, she leaned into him, her head finding a comfortable resting place on his shoulder. He froze for a moment, before his features relaxed. They sat together in comfortable silence, their bodies intertwined, gazing up at the starry sky. She nestled against him, allowed herself to forget the unsettling reality of her situation, to push aside the memories of betrayal and pain that defined their relationship. In this suspended moment, high above the world, they were simply a girl and a boy, sharing a quiet intimacy, bathed in the soft light of the stars. It was a fleeting illusion, but it was enough to make her heart ache with a bittersweet longing.
Their magical flight ended all too soon, and their feet touched the ground once more. A wistful silence hung in the air as they made their way to Snape's office. Draco, sensing the need for privacy, waited patiently in the hallway while she entered alone.
Inside, she and Snape shared a final, lingering embrace. To her surprise, as they parted, he discreetly slipped something into her hand - a folded piece of parchment. He looked at her with an intensely, a silent conversation passing between them as she carefully tucked the letter into her pocket.
Later that night, back at Malfoy Manor, she found herself alone in her room. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on her heart. She retrieved the letter from her pocket and carefully unfolded it. The words, written in Snape's familiar spidery scrawl, were simple but profound:
If you ever need anything, Potter knows how to reach me.
A wave of warmth washed over her. Even after all this time, Snape was still looking out for her. The letter was a lifeline, a promise of support in a world that often felt cold and unforgiving. Tears welled up in her eyes as she clutched the letter to her chest.
***
A few days dragged by with no word from Draco, leaving Hermione in a state of anxious uncertainty. The silence was finally broken by the arrival of a formal letter, requesting her presence at dinner that evening.
Determined to make an impression, she spent thirty meticulous minutes in front of the mirror, carefully applying makeup the way Ginny had taught her and styling her unruly curls into a cascade of soft waves that tumbled down her back. She slipped into a sleek black dress that accentuated her curves. With a deep breath, she made her way towards the dining room.
In the hallway, she unexpectedly encountered Lucius. His eyes raked over her appearance, a flicker of disapproval crossing his face. The tension hung heavy in the air for a moment before he turned and walked away without a word. Her confidence wavered, but she squared her shoulders and continued on, determined not to let his judgment affect her.
As she stepped into the dining room, her heart skipped a beat. Draco sat waiting for her, a glass of amber whiskey in hand. His adam's apple bobbed noticeably as his gaze swept over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. A wave of warmth washed over her as she noticed he wasn't occluding, a small but significant gesture that hinted at a growing trust between them.
"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low and confident as he rose to his feet. The compliment, delivered with such sincerity, sent a flutter through her stomach.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice a touch breathless. She tried to ignore the warmth blooming in her belly, a mix of pleasure and guilt that she couldn't quite shake off.
Instead of taking her usual seat at the far end of the expansive table, she surprised Draco by choosing a chair beside him. His eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face as he observed her. He was dressed entirely in black, but less formal than usual. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his neck, and the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. A pang of self-consciousness struck her; perhaps she needed to temper her boldness if she wanted this charade to remain convincing. She couldn't afford to let her true intentions slip through the cracks. A silent plea rose within her, a desperate prayer to the universe, or to whatever forces governed magic, that the Occlumency spell would continue to hold strong. She needed to maintain her composure, to keep her emotions locked away from his powerful prying mind. These emotionally charged moments were dangerous, and one misstep could shatter the fragile facade she had constructed.
Midway through the meal, the grand doors of the dining room swung open dramatically, revealing a quartet of familiar faces: Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Astoria. Hermione's face lit up at the sight of Astoria. She hadn't joined her for dinner in the past few days, and Hermione had missed her dearly.
Astoria, seemingly oblivious to the formality of the setting, made a beeline for Hermione and embraced her warmly. As they pulled apart, Hermione caught a subtle exchange of glances between Astoria and Draco. A silent conversation seemed to pass between them, and Draco's expression softened with a glimmer of gratitude directed towards Astoria.
The rest of the group, having settled at the table, cast curious glances between Draco and Hermione. The air crackled with unspoken questions and a hint of awkwardness, until Blaise finally broke the silence.
"You look hot, Hermione," he blurted, his eyes lingering on her appreciatively. Pansy, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. "Are you coming with us tonight?"
Hermione's gaze flickered between Blaise and Draco, noting the subtle tightening of Draco's jaw.
"Where?" she inquired.
"We're going to the Viper's Nest for drinks and some fun," Pansy explained as if it were a regular occurrence. "You should join us."
Draco took a deliberate sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face. He rose from his seat, a hint of possessiveness in his voice. "I'm sure she has no interest-"
"I'd love to come," she interrupted, her voice firm and resolute.
Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he said, a challenge hanging in the air.
Theo, standing close to Draco, tilted his head slightly, his gaze darting between Hermione and his friend. He seemed to be silently debating whether this was a good idea. A moment of hesitation passed before he spoke, his voice laced with a hint of caution.
"The Viper's Nest isn't exactly what I would call a... refined establishment, Hermione," he said hesitantly, choosing his words carefully. "Are you absolutely certain you want to come along?"
Hermione met his gaze with unwavering determination, her chin lifted slightly. "I'm quite sure I can handle it, Theo," she replied confidently.
After a few rounds of shared drinks with the Slytherins in the Manor dining room, Hermione found herself amidst the pulsating energy of the Viper's Nest. The alcohol had warmed her cheeks and loosened her inhibitions just a bit, leaving her feeling pleasantly buzzed. However, when Theo offered her another drink, she politely declined. Tonight was not about letting loose; it was about gathering information. She needed to stay sharp and focused.
Draco had vanished soon after their arrival for a private meeting in a secluded back room of the club. The music throbbed through the dimly lit club as Hermione and the remaining Slytherins occupied a prime table, their laughter and conversation blending with the sounds of the other party goers around them.
Half nude dancers moved slowly on the stages and Hermione watched them with unmasked intrigue. They were littered with green jewels and barely there undergarments, she thought they looked beautiful and sensual. It was truly hard to take her eyes off of them.
Blaise's voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present moment. He leaned closer, his voice a low, suggestive purr.
"Do you want to dance, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes flicking towards the pulsating dance floor, where bodies moved rhythmically under the dim lights. Couples were swaying and grinding into each other and Hermione had to admit it did look quite fun.
Theo shot Blaise a look that could only be interpreted as ‘Are you actively trying to get us killed?’ and seemed visibly relieved when she politely declined Blaise's invitation.
Pansy had vanished in search of another round of drinks, and Astoria had spotted a friend across the room, leaving Hermione alone with Theo and Blaise.
Two unfamiliar men, both strikingly handsome and seemingly around Hermione's age, slid into the booth, occupying the recently vacated seats. Theo acknowledged them without even glancing up from his drink.
"Crabbe, Goyle," he drawled, his voice bored. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
The man Hermione assumed was Crabbe inched closer to her, his words slightly slurred as he extended a hand.
"Just came to introduce ourselves to this fascinating stranger," he said, his gaze fixated on Hermione.
She accepted his hand, and he brought it to his lips, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her knuckles. She fought the urge to discreetly wipe her hand on her dress.
"I'm Vincent Crabbe," he continued, his eyes sparkling with a predatory gleam, "and you are absolutely stunning."
"Oh, sod off, Crabbe," Blaise interjected with a snort. "She's taken."
Crabbe's smile didn't falter. "Too taken to dance with me later?"
Hermione met his gaze steadily. "I'm actually not... taken," she admitted, "but I'm not really feeling up to dancing tonight."
"How about a drink then?" Crabbe persisted, undeterred.
She glanced at her water glass. "I'm all set for the moment, thank you though."
Crabbe and Goyle lingered, and conversation flowed surprisingly easily between the four of them. A blonde man approached and joined Theo and Blaise, momentarily diverting their attention. Crabbe seized the opportunity to renew his advances.
"Are you absolutely sure I can't get you a drink?" he pressed.
"I'm fine, thank you," she reiterated, lifting her water glass and taking a deliberate sip. Crabbe's eyes followed the movement, an unreadable, almost hungry expression on his face.
He slipped his hand under the table and placed it on her bare thigh. She resisted the urge to swat his clammy hand away.
“Still not up for a dance?” He whispered as he edged closer to her.
His hand traced languidly up and down her thigh and she felt a flicker of warmth in her stomach. She gazed at the dance floor, it did look appealing, but she had no interest in spending any alone time with this aggressive stranger.
The room began to feel a bit muted and all of her senses seemed to zero in on Crabbe’s feather light touch beneath the table. Had she had that much to drink? The dim lights of the club started to blur, merging into a mesh of colors that swirled and pulsed in time with the music. She felt the bass reverberate through her body, a primal rhythm that seemed to sync with her heartbeat. The room swayed gently, and a wave of dizziness washed over her, blurring the edges of her perception. Crabbe’s hand was getting dangerously close to the apex of her thighs and she scooted away from him, despite his touch tingling quite nicely against her skin.
“I am not interested.” She blurted out. She squeezed her thighs together beneath the table as she began to feel a familiar swirl within her belly. Her mind went to Draco, his long deft fingers, his mouth, the cold press of his signet ring against her most sensitive spots. She began absently rocking against the seat, the combination of the intense feeling the movement provoked and the booming music overtaking her. Crabbe’s eyes zeroed in on her and his eyes seemed to dance with excitement.
“Are you feeling okay?” He said with a mischievous smile.
“Yes, fine, thank you.” She said breathlessly.
What in the bloody hell was happening? She felt like she was about to get off rocking against her seat alone. She glanced from the dance floor to where the exotic dancers moved gracefully on the stage and she resisted the urge to slide her hand between her thighs. Her clothes suddenly felt heavy and she wanted to strip them off, to feel the bite of the cold air on her bare skin.
Her mind was suddenly reeling with visions of Draco. Him hovering over her, his hair falling over his face, his mouth on her clit, licking her wetness from his fingers….
"Do you want to get out of here?" Crabbe whispered into her ear.
Suddenly, she lurched to her feet, her movement so abrupt that the table wobbled, nearly sending a cascade of drinks tumbling to the floor. "I need to use the loo!" she blurted out, her voice laced with a hint of panic.
Theo rose as well, his eyes following her hasty retreat with a bewildered expression. Crabbe made a move to follow her, but Theo's hand shot out, firmly gripping his arm and halting his advance.
“Best fuck off, Crabbe, she belongs to Draco.”
The last image she registered as she fled the scene was the abrupt draining of color from Crabbe's face. His eyes widened in horror as recognition dawned, the realization of who he had been so brazenly flirting with hitting him like a thunderbolt. It was a fleeting moment of triumph for her, a small victory amidst the swirling chaos. But the satisfaction was short-lived as the urgency to escape overwhelmed her once more, propelling her towards the sanctuary of the bathroom. She almost got side tracked by the dancers on her way, she wanted to take a seat by the stage. She even contemplated joining them in their seductive dances until she regained control of her mind and internally chastised herself. What the actual hell was going on?
Once in the bathroom, she began splashing her face with cold water. The ache between her legs was becoming unbearable and she felt unsteady on her feet. Her mind shouted at her, clouded with lust, and only one person held her thoughts. Draco, Draco, find Draco.
She wanted to run her fingers through his silky hair, to feel his strong hands gripping her back side as she slid up and down on his cock. The throb between her legs was becoming too intense, an ache she knew only he could fix.
By the time she reached the back room, her dress had ridden up, her hair was a disheveled mess from running her fingers through it. She burst through the door without knocking. Draco's voice trailed off, his words hanging unfinished in the air as his attention was abruptly captured by her sudden entrance. His eyes widened slightly, taking in her wild appearance, her chest heaving from her frantic dash through the club. The four unfamiliar men in the dimly lit room, seemingly engrossed in their conversation with Draco a moment ago, now turned their heads in unison, their gazes following Draco's to settle on her, standing framed in the doorway, breathless and flushed.
“Hermione? Everything….alright?” Draco asked hesitantly.
She tried to compose herself, clearing her throat in an attempt to steady her voice. But the words still came out in a slightly higher pitch than usual, betraying her.
"Yep!" she chirped, a bit too brightly. "Everything is absolutely fine. I was just, um, hoping to speak with you alone for a moment?" She added a tentative smile, hoping to mask the desperation she felt. Actually I’m here because I’d like to dry hump you or perhaps sit on your face. Either will suffice at this particular moment. She was horrifyingly horny, but couldn’t bring herself to care. The room seemed to shimmer, the edges of reality softening and blurring. It was as if a spotlight had been focused solely on Draco, leaving everything else—the plush furniture, the dark wood paneling, even the other men in the room—cast in a hazy, indistinct backdrop.
Draco’s eyebrow quirked. “Everyone out.” He ordered without taking his eyes off of her.
The men filed out of the room, their footsteps echoing in the sudden silence. Each one gave her a wide berth as they passed, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and wariness. She closed the door firmly behind them, shutting out the noise and bustle of the club. Turning back to face Draco, her breath hitched in her throat. The dimly lit room seemed to accentuate his features, casting him in a soft, almost ethereal glow. Gods, he is beautiful, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest.
She slowly entered the room, attempting to look sexy, but she stumbled a bit.
Draco's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Had a bit too much to drink?" he inquired with a light chuckle, his voice a velvety caress that sent a shiver down her spine. "Ready to head back to the Manor?"
The sound of his laughter, rich and resonant, seemed to vibrate through her entire being, intensifying the already heightened sensations coursing through her veins.
"No!" She blurted out, her voice louder than she intended, the urgency in her tone echoing through the quiet room. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "I haven't had anything to drink except water since we left the Manor."
Draco's expression shifted, the amusement fading from his eyes. He studied her intently, a flicker of something unreadable replacing his earlier amusement.
She steadied her resolve before speaking. “Is this where the private dances happen?”
"Yes..." Draco echoed, his own voice laced with uncertainty. His eyebrows knitted together in a puzzled frown, his head canting to the side as he studied her with growing concern. His piercing silver eyes searched her face, trying to decipher the meaning behind her cryptic question and her chaotic energy.
“I really liked watching the dancers...” She said slowly.
He raised his glass to his lips, taking a deliberate sip of his whiskey. He didn't speak, letting the silence stretch between them. As he lowered the glass, his gaze flicked up, meeting hers over the rim. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his expression a mask of carefully controlled curiosity.
She slowly made her way to the small stage near him and circled the pole, eyeing it curiously. She boldly ran her hands up and down the pole and bent over, she knew the back of her dress had ridden quite far up when she heard Draco choke on his whiskey.
With a suddenness that caught him off guard, she turned to face him fully. A feral grin spread across her face, a hunger surely gleaming in her eyes. She advanced towards him, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Draco's mouth fell open, his drink forgotten in his hand as he watched her approach, a mixture of shock and intrigue swirling in his hooded eyes.
“I want to pretend to be one of those dancers…for you…” She said as she slowly started running her hands up and down her body. Her skin was so sensitive it felt like her fingers were leaving a trail of flames in their wake.
Draco’s glass smashed against the floor, the contents spilling on his shoes, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. He was frozen. She continued her slow movements.
“Is this some sort of cruel joke? I don’t..I don’t understand what’s happening…” he sputtered.
She didn’t respond as she continued to dance for him. The straps of her dress slipped down her shoulders as she ran her hands through her hair and over her breasts.
Draco's eyelids fluttered rapidly, his silver eyes blinking in quick succession, as if he were trying to clear a mirage from his vision. The raw, untamed desire radiating from her, seemed to have momentarily short-circuited his brain. He looked at her, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and intense fascination.
He let out a shaky breath as she approached where he sat in the over sized velvet chair. His hands gripped the arms rests so tightly his knuckles were white. Being this close to him was becoming increasingly difficult. She felt so…empty. She wanted to lick him from head to toe. The room was dimly lit, a fire cracking in the background, but she wasn’t sure where. She stood between his legs and slowly pulled her tight dress over her head, revealing her thin green lace undergarments. Draco’s eyes lazily traced her body, but he didn’t move to touch her. His eyes darkened until they were almost black in a way that she found deeply attractive. She turned around so that he could view her backside, and she heard him swallow as she began shifting and moving her hips letting her hands graze up and down her sides. She slowly sat on his lap, facing away from him, and nuzzled the back of her head into his neck. She felt him breathing deeply against her skin in a way that was nearly maddening. Her lower abdomen ached at the proximity.
“Please, touch me.” She whispered.
She heard him wandlessly lock the door and pause for a moment, almost unsure where to start. He slid his large hands up and down her thighs first and she shuddered at his touch. He began licking and kissing the length of her neck. She gasped when he took her earlobe in his mouth.
“More.” She said as she writhed against him, her back arching.
She felt both of his rough hands reach between her thighs, dwarfing her legs, tracing closer the spot she wanted him to touch most. He pulled her knickers to the side, his fingers grazing her slit. He froze.
“Fucking hell, you’re soaked.” He hissed through gritted teeth.
His voice reverberated through her and she loved the way it felt. He slowly began tracing the fingers of his right hand through her wetness. She felt the cold bite of his signet ring as it glided over her clit and she nearly orgasmed on the spot. The sensation was unreal. He continued slowly teasing her.
“Keep talking to me.” She said breathlessly.
“You like what I do to you?” You want my fingers inside of you?” He said without hesitation.
“Yes,” she responded with a sigh.
He obeyed, sliding two fingers inside of her as he continued to apply pressure on her clit with his palm.
“Tell me I’m a good girl.” She gasped as her orgasm started to build.
“For fucks sake….” He hissed, “You’re such a good fucking girl, so tight, so beautiful, so fucking perfect. I want you to ride my fingers until you come.”
Something deep inside her thrilled at his words. He pumped his fingers in and out of her as he continued whispering in her ear, pausing only to lick up the length of her neck. She couldn’t think around the desire that was wrapping around her, nearly choking her.
“Yes!” She screamed as she approached the edge, grasping onto his legs to steady herself.
She ground against his fingers digging her clit into the palm of his hand until an orgasm blew through her and she saw stars. Her entire body shook violently as her cunt clenched and throbbed around his fingers. She writhed in his arms as she rode the wave of pleasure that exploded through her.
“That’s my good girl.” He said breathlessly.
After she finished, the blinding need didn’t seem to subside. She twirled on his lap and crouched between his knees.
“I want more.” She ordered as she began unclasping his belt and trousers, tugging at him desperately, needing him so much she was trembling.
He paused as she sat between his legs, his features clouded with lust. He gripped her chin hard and pulled her eyes up to meet his. She panted as she watched him stare at her. She attacked his lips, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as she moaned into his mouth. He took her face in both his hands and gently pulled her back to look at her again. She could taste the metallic hint of his blood on her lips and she licked it away, sighing at the taste of him, her eyes fluttering closed. His hesitation was excruciating and she reached between her legs and started to touch herself again. Draco’s lust filled face twisted suddenly, leaving a horrified look in its wake.
“Hermione?” His voice sounded terrified. “Have you had anything to drink since you arrived?” He pulled his hands away from her suddenly and she wanted to scream in frustration.
He was talking again, but she could hardly hear him now, the pleasure of her own fingers pulling her down a dark tunnel again.
“Malfoy, please, fuck me.” She whimpered. She would beg if she needed to.
She felt him infiltrate her mind, and she couldn’t bring herself to care that her shields had faltered. She felt the rush of adrenaline at the feeling of having him in her head once again, having their magic connected this way again after so long.
Fuck me, please! It hurts.
He didn’t speak into her mind, but she felt him frantically shuffling through the events of the night, pausing on Crabbe and her glass of water.
Suddenly, his hand closed around her wrist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. The room spun, a fury of colors and blurring shapes, and then, with a sickening lurch, they were somewhere new. She blinked, her vision clearing to reveal the familiar surroundings of her room at the Manor. A wave of relief washed over her, mixed with a heady anticipation. Perfect, she thought, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“Hermione…I’m so sorry… you’ve been dosed with a lust potion…I’m so sorry…I didn’t realize…” His words were pained as he watched her helplessly. “You’ll need to ride it out, and it won’t be pleasant.”
A torrent of panicked thoughts surged through her mind, a frantic internal chorus of screaming, No. No. No. No. The intensity of her mental turmoil was so overwhelming that Draco, who now had a direct connection to her thoughts once again, winced involuntarily, his features contorting into grimace.
I’m so…I’m sorry.
Please just help me, I don’t care! I can’t stand this a second longer.
I can’t.
You don’t… want me?
I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
Then just do it! I need you or I’m going to combust. She was panting, her body writhing in pain as her skin burned. She tore at his clothes, clutching him tightly so that he wouldn’t leave.
His face hardened, his grip on her wrist tightening. He squeezed his eyes closed, whispering something she couldn’t make out through the chaos. Then, a sudden wave of darkness washed over her, extinguishing her consciousness like a snuffed candle.
*****
Hermione awoke with a pounding headache, her vision blurred and disoriented. As her eyes struggled to focus, she saw a familiar, kind face hovering above her. Astoria sat near the foot of her bed, concern etched on her gentle features.
"Astoria?" She croaked, her voice raspy and weak as she attempted to sit up.
Astoria moved closer, offering her a small vial filled with a clear potion. "It's a Calming Draught," she explained softly. "And here's a Dreamless Sleep potion as well," she added, retrieving another vial from the bedside table. "The effects of the lust potion should have mostly worn off, but the aftereffects can be quite brutal."
Hermione nodded gratefully, taking both potions without hesitation. The cool liquid slid down her throat, bringing a sense of relief to her aching head.
Astoria's eyes welled up with tears as she spoke. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I should never have left you alone in that den of snakes, especially with lowlifes like Vincent Crabbe lurking about."
Hermione reached out, taking Astoria's hands in her own. The soothing effects of the potions were already taking hold, easing her discomfort. "Astoria, please don't cry," she murmured, her voice gentle. "It's not your fault." Sleep tugged at her, and she welcomed its embrace, grateful for the reprieve from the memories of the previous night. Astoria continued to stroke her hair gently as she drifted off.
****
The next morning, sunlight streamed through Hermione's window, rousing her from her slumber. She knew she needed to find Draco, to apologize for her behavior. Her skin still felt tender, but other than that, the aftereffects of the lust potion seemed to have subsided. With a sense of urgency, she quickly dressed in a simple gown and robe, the first ones she could find, and padded barefoot down the hallway towards Draco's chambers. Finding them empty, she redirected her steps towards the dining room, hoping to catch him there.
When she entered the dining room, she found Draco seated alone at the long table, enjoying a leisurely breakfast. He looked up as she entered, pausing mid-bite, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe. A flicker of worry crossed his face, but otherwise, he seemed remarkably composed, even cheerful, despite the events of the previous night. Still, the dark circles under his eyes betrayed the toll the experience must have taken on him.
"Good morning," he greeted her warmly, settling back in his chair with a clink of silverware against porcelain.
She hesitated, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I came to apologize for my behavior last night..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
His expression softened. "You have nothing to apologize for," he assured her, his voice firm and reassuring.
"I just want you to know that I don't regret anything that happened," she continued, her gaze meeting his with a newfound boldness. "And that I don't hold you responsible."
A slow smile spread across Draco's face, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "As much as I love the way this conversation is going," he drawled, his voice laced with a playful charm, "I feel inclined to tell you that we are not alone." His eyes remained fixed on hers as he casually gestured with his fork towards the towering ceiling above them.
Her eyes followed his gesture, scanning the ornate ceiling with growing confusion. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but then, as her brain struggled to process the impossible sight, a gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest.
A man was strung upside down from the ceiling by his ankles. Completely naked. He wiggled and swayed back and forth silently. His eyes wide with primal terror. His pupils were dilated, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
“You remember Vincent Crabbe, don’t you?" Draco asked smoothly as he took a leisurely bite of his biscuit.