The Art of War

“There is no such thing as freedom of choice unless there is freedom to refuse."
David Hume

It was a week after the wedding when the portkey arrived. It falling on the day they were meant to return wasn't lost on her as she went through her list. She made sure that her trunk was packed, that the men would take care of Crookshanks and the new peahen, and that she had things that she wanted. Had she packed a few books for her honeymoon? Of course. Especially because Draco said in his note with the portkey that it might still take him a day or two to arrive at the villa near the ruin. Once he was done with whatever job the Dark Lord had given him following their wedding having been crashed, they could do what they wanted for two weeks. As a token of appreciation for his exemplary loyalty, they were gifted double the time. She wouldn't complain.

With everything ready, she took the portkey and felt its squeeze and tug behind her navel. Within moments she stood in the heart of the space she would share with her husband for nearly fourteen days. It was lavish, she noted as she settled in, finding a study to claim as her own. She spent most of her first day in it, the solitude reminding her of a safe house, but it was oddly calm, especially after what she had done. Wood had deserved it, but the fact that he had pleaded with her still bothered her. She hated when anyone she tortured pleaded. She dealt with it all better when they threatened and cursed at her. When they blamed her for what was wrong in the world around them. When they were harsh, but Wood had been as he always was.

The one day of solitude, though, was enough to make her miss having company. Someone's. Anyone's. She missed the way that Draco had looked at her at their wedding, as odd as it was. She didn't love him. Didn't know if she'd ever be able to do such a thing or if he'd be able to do more than obsess over her, but she did lust for him, and she understood that keeping him alive and safe was pivotal to her own survival.

There had been a message claiming he would be arriving today, and she wasn't sure what to wear. Wearing something and waiting for him seemed desperate, so she did the only logical thing, put on a comfortable but lovely silk robe, sat in the study, and read her book. A flick of her wand could change the outfit she was in depending on what sort of mood the two of them were in.

When Draco placed his fingers on the portkey, they trembled. Hunger. Exhaustion. The remnants of not only watching but feeling the removal of a dark mark, its annihilation that he knew every man and woman at his side had felt as the Dark Lord delivered the most agonizing deaths he had witnessed in a long while, and that was saying something.

With a steadying breath, he set the item on the table and followed that bond. Knowing she was alright, that she was safe had helped keep him going. If he had suspected a leak before, he knew it was incontestable now. And though the display would certainly prevent some backlash, he also feared it would renew such passions in the hearts of the discontent.

Instead of overthinking it, he followed that golden heat he felt from her. The tingling of magic in his bones that reminded him, he had more pressing matters in regard to his vows. An overwhelming need that refused to be contained no matter how much he tried to lock it away. He took the time to change into more appropriate robes before arriving if only to keep his word not to wear them at the dinner table. Surely, such a request would need to be extended to honeymoons. Faced with that magical tug toward her made it feel like it was time lost when he could have been here.

He leaned in the doorway, watching as she sat nestled in a chair, lost in the lines of whatever story or light reading he'd caught her with back at the manor. Somehow, he doubted she'd had much access to magical theorems and advanced theory tomes in the last few years. Draco tried not to linger on whatever empathy the rings were pushing.

“Why am I not surprised…” he offered with a dark breath of laughter. Trust his wife to find a book. At least some things were easier to recognize.

Glancing up from her book to look at him, she couldn't help but raise a brow at that with a faint smile. "Because, as odd as it is, you know me. And I couldn't very well just be naked in bed." Closing and putting the book down on a nearby table, she looked him over slowly. She could feel that hum in her bones, magic from the vows that seemed to crave proximity.

“Unfortunate, but easily remedied,” he offered a slight curl to his lip, but then she had him pause. A soft sound escaped him as he stepped forward. Even exhaustion wouldn’t keep him away.

"I had a few ideas I couldn't decide on."

“Care to share them?” He studied her as though he could pry the very thoughts before her lips could speak them.

The appraising look had her chuckle softly with a bit of a glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. "It was more of what to wear to help...encourage us both not to think for awhile. You seemed to want my wedding dress on the floor...but I had a few things custom made for me as well..."

Although he remained incredibly still, she had his absolute undivided attention. “I see,” he spoke as if testing his voice around short syllables before taking a step forward. He had wanted her dress on the floor. Had wanted it pooled around her ankles as he plucked her from it to consummate what they’d begun. Pushing off the threshold, he began to close the gap between them with calculated steps.

“I assure you I don’t need any encouragement.” He practically bit into the words, holding back from closing that gap entirely and losing his restraint.

Lifting a brow at that, she leaned back in the armchair. One arm rested on the other while her other hand fished out her wand. She looked him over. "The only question then is...wedding dress or something I had made?"

She'd let him pick this once, at least out of those two. She had more than a few pieces designed to tease him with. More since she was left with her thoughts for a week. Now, she wanted them turned off. And he did a very good job of turning her brain off.

“Something you had made.” His voice held a gruffness to it, a lack of the luster from his failing composure. He’d hate to rip her wedding dress, and he had already seen it. No, he wanted to see what she had concocted to make him lose his mind more so than he thought possible.

A faint grin curved her lips as she gave a flick of her wand, her robe fading into what she wore beneath. It left her in a nearly see-through black shrug that fastened closed just under her breasts. The thin straps on her shoulders held it up. The slits up the sides hinted at a black thong which could be seen as it flowed over her body. It was easy to rip off of her while making it seem like she was covered in shadows.

If he’d been struggling against his zip just being in the same room, he wasn’t sure his pants wouldn't give as he took her in. That cattish look she gave him a mere shadow to the sight of her he lingered on. It had his breath catch and his throat dry. All she'd been doing was lounging on that armchair in that. Without hesitation, he took that last step that made her tower over her and gripped the wings on the chair, effectively trapping her. In seconds, his lips crushed against hers with demand. A gasp left her as soon as he was on her, kissing him back as one hand tangled in his hair. A touch that sent tingles shivering down his spine.

His hands were on her hips, lifting her off her perch, slotting her against him, pressing her shamelessly against his erection. She could feel how hard he was, and it stole her breath. It made her spark with desire as he smoothed up her sides and over her shoulders to push down those straps.

They easily slid off of her shoulders, skipping her arms out of it. The light fabric barely clung to her skin with that small button beneath her breasts.

In his quest to disrobe her, the button was sent flying to the floor. A small sound buried by the depths of his groans. As her own fabric fell into a dark pool on the floor, she moved with him away from the armchair she had been in. His touch ignited a fire in her as her hands moved to keep getting him out of his clothes as they kissed. There was only one piece of fabric on her person to separate her from him.

Stepping forward, he herded her back toward the door as though he'd know where to go once they made it out. It didn't matter that he had no idea where the room and bed were. He would settle for the closest surface. With barely two steps in, his cloaks fell to the floor. It was too hot in the humidity of the jungle villa they had, as if she wasn't raising the temperature all on her own. It wasn't long before his hands were on her again. The loss of fabric only helped the burn she made him feel for a few seconds before it roared under his skin again, demanding more of her and fewer barriers.

If she had her way, he'd be just as naked as she was. By his reaction, she was pleased this wasn't the only outfit to make him lose control.

The contact felt necessary after everything. She nipped at his bottom lip, only to be met with one of his own, nearly drawing blood as he did. While she fought with buttons, he gripped her breasts, palming them before tweaking her nipples, a sense of urgency with his every assault. Her body got hotter, and she moaned.

He wanted more of her, needed more. Giving up on taking her to a bedroom, he pressed her against the first hard surface to stand in their path. She nipped harder at his bottom lip, gasping as they bumped against the massive wood desk, pushing parchment and quills away.

If she didn't want to think, she couldn't have picked a better wizard. She had half expected him to get them to the bedroom. Now, she was certain that he was going to take her on every surface with how his hand tangled in her hair, fisting her locks to take control of the kiss. Her breath hitched and Draco invaded her mouth with his tongue. Hers answered in kind, tangling and delving into his mouth. All she wanted was more contact, as much contact as she could get.

Every breath she took was his to steal. He could feel it in the way she kissed him. In that moment, he owned her. He knew it deep in his bones. Annoyed by the slowness of manually disrobing, he used his wand to send the rest of his attire to the floor. His touch was heavy and demanding until he ripped the last shred of fabric that stood between them. Roughly, he pulled her forward, balancing her between the edge of the desk and where he stood between her thighs, keeping her in a precarious state.

Then everything narrowed down to the two fingers diving inside her, curling to extract sounds he stole against his tongue. She moaned into the kiss as his fingers delved between her thighs, spearing into her. Her body arched into his hand, rolling her hips eagerly in search of more contact. More friction. More. Even as she moaned into the kiss. Their lips stayed pressed together, her body nearly trembling from the contact.

Hermione felt like sweet, wet heat around his digits. The sweetest sounds parted from her lips as he curled them inside her, brushing that sweet spot. Sounds he devoured as he gave her mouth no mercy. His kiss turned rapacious. She moaned louder, her hand tightening in his hair as her other hand dragged down his back. Now. He needed her now. It had him pulling his hand away, giving his length a few strokes of his slicked fingers.

She held that kiss as long as he did, but as soon as his length brushed her clit she arched, her nails digging in a little more. He teased them both with that sensitive head of his cock until he broke. There was no slow push, just need driving him in to the hilt on a groan he abandoned against her bottom lip. That first hard thrust made her whimper, clinging to him as his face buried in the crook of her neck. As he adjusted to the pressure of her core, breath ragged, she nipped at his ear.

As though sensing it, she spread her legs a bit further apart and arched up to grind against him. A harsh growl of a moan escaped him. Between his cock and her nails, she had him thrusting with utter abandon. Harsh thrusts that had her clutching to him and surrendering to that feeling. He filled all of her senses, and the world remained narrowed down on him. It was harsh and intense, and she couldn't think through the more uneven breath. The desk groaned against the floor, smacking the wall with a dull, heavy thud that resounded with every motion. The wood beneath her whinged in protest, creaking as he kept that punitive pace.

"You feel so hot and tight," he praised in a jagged tone, a hand firmly planted on her hip, taking advantage of the berth her thighs allowed him. His teeth nipping at the soft skin beneath her ear.

The sound of his voice helped further fill her senses. How could he speak right now? It felt far too hard to think. The nip had her gasp and tilt her head for him to more easily reach those sensitive spots along her neck and under her ear. "You feel...so good...Feel so full of you," she moaned breathlessly.

He didn't want to think of every day he'd spent wishing he could have been here instead of all the time he had been robbed of after their union. Every inch of his body demanded to be close to her, to close every gap, to be as far into her as he possibly could.

Every delicious sound, breath, and touch spurred him on. Every brush of lips against her body might as well have brought on his very own apocalypse. The world around them ceased to exist, his entire being set on a single goal to seek pleasure in her. Only her.

Leaving the back of her neck, his palm smoothed down her spine only to come around her body and up her front. He wanted to do so many things to her body. Those touches had her tremble, arching into his touch. Moans continued to leave her lips as he pounded into her as if he had time to claim her completely. Mine, his thoughts claimed with equal measure as his body.

And she almost thought she could hear that one word of claim. The word she couldn't argue with that ring on her finger, the magic in her bones, and in the remnants of her broken soul.

More. Please, more. Her thoughts basically pleaded. The powerful thrusts felt amazing, but she needed more from her lover. Her husband. It made her head reel.

Draco swore he could hear her very body begging for him in every tremble. Though her words came to him, he knew they hadn't come from her lips. Sleep deprivation was getting to him, but he couldn't think about it; just allow them to become the product of wanton desire. Pulling her closer, he added friction as he continued to claim her. Hermione gasped, moaning louder at the added friction. He was building her so well. One of her hands smoothed over his chest, taking a moment to explore his body.

So fucking perfect, he couldn't help but praise in his mind. His witch, his wife, she wasn't just witty and lethal, like this, humming with pleasure, she could make him experience things he'd stopped thinking he'd feel.

She heard his voice again, or thought she had. He wouldn't call her perfect. She knew that. But damn, did this feel perfect.

Rolling her hips to meet his thrusts so she could arch into him, she guided his hand to her breast. Bolder. Might as well guide him to what she wanted while she could. The man seemed to crave control.

As soon as his palm smothered the soft, plump flesh of her breast, he leaned in to claim it. Nipping at it before smoothing his tongue, pressing her breast up to watch her from over the handful he taunted. Her hand wound up back in his hair, tugging before pressing him closer. He half wanted to pull her down with him, to meet her lips against her pebbled nipple. Just the thought had him pulse inside of her. No matter how many times he filled her, it didn't remove the pain of being rock-hard. The need to explode inside her, and yet it just remained out of his grasp.

She moaned louder and arched her chest into his mouth, almost clenching around him. She needed just a little more to push her over the edge. Her hips thrust into him before her legs wrapped around his waist, whimpering a moan. "God....that feels so good..." she gasped, meeting his eyes as she flushed.

There she was, calling him God again, and he loved it. Reveled in it. "So good," he echoed, his gaze molten silver as he gazed into those deep chocolate hues. He wanted to watch her when she fell apart, not just feel it. Motions limited by her hold, he did his best, his thrusts growing ragged.

There was that look again. Showing that he wanted to eat her alive, like he couldn't get enough. It had her breath hitch, and her body started to tighten around him. Close. She was so close, and she wanted it. No, needed it. Needed to come apart on him, let him eat her alive for as long as she could.

Lips abandoning her breasts, he kept a hand to tweak and tease a while longer before reaching between them to give her the friction she lacked, the one her hips kept seeking. It had her writhe and arch and moan. That first touch of his fingers between her legs had her cry out. Draco never stopped meeting her gaze, he wanted that exact moment of bliss memorized. As though it would offer him the very key needed to unlock her, all of her. His. She was his, and he drove it into it, slammed it into her with every inch of him. With every fiber of himself.

Her nails dragged down his chest as her inner walls clamped down on every hard inch of him. The intensity of his glaze as she stayed tightened around him had her tremble and flushing a bit more as she rode out the pleasure he gave. More intense than anyone else she had slept with before. That clench didn’t deter him. Merely slowing his assault, which he pursued. His thumb kept pressed against her clit, giving it even more. He didn’t just want her blissed out. He wanted to push beyond it. Curious if there was more to unravel. What was there beyond those clenching inner walls. He felt caught in a storm, and he had every intention of weathering it. His thoughts were a maelstrom of how absolutely stunning she looked, contorted with unaltered pleasure.

The continued friction had her hips bucking up into him with a louder cry as she moaned. Sensitive. She felt so sensitive as he continued to thrust into her. Blushing more deeply, she panted and tried not to keep clawing at him, still having some sort of control. It would likely take more to get her completely unhinged and babbling. She was slowly coming down, her fingers tracing back up to his shoulder as she kept his gaze.

"Your eyes....' it almost felt like he was branding her with them.

Her soft voice had him grip more firmly. “What about them?” He asked, struggling to keep himself steady.

He pressed that hooded gem more firmly, readjusting his angle to better continue the war he waged, seeing just how far he could push. She gripped his hair and shoulder. Another moan left her lips as she forced her legs to unwrap from around him so he could move more between her legs. That better angle had her whimper and she had to focus to try and get the words out.

"Like...molten mercury...and the...way you look at me..." she whimpered the words.

“How do I…look at you?” She made it hard to speak. Still, he wanted to know. He needed to know. He wasn’t sure just how much longer he could continue this chase, especially when she opened her legs again, giving him room to adjust and establish a new pace that threatened the very integrity of the desk. The wall behind it had begun chipping away where wood met wall.

He had her almost screaming again as she moaned louder. He was so good at this. Unmoored and powerful. He knew what he was doing, and she wanted him to keep doing it. Trusting him with her body, at least, was simple. "Like...you want or could eat me alive..." she moaned, her nails biting into his shoulders again. "Draco..."

He swore he could never tire of hearing her like this. Wordless encouragements that fueled him. Though he’d never been stingy with leaving his partners satisfied, even this was new territory. He wanted to reply, retort, but he didn’t trust his tongue. Let alone when she spoke his name that way.

Crushing his lips to her, he parted her to push his tongue forward, mirroring his actions as he explored beyond her teeth. Her hand raked through his hair and pulled him closer, ceding to him. She couldn't help but moan louder, her mind repeating the words yes and please over and over again.

Her name filled his mind with lust and need as if he spoke it while she tugged at his hair, tangling her fingers in it. Her body trembled with barely contained restraint. How could this just be the start of the time on their honeymoon? She would end up limp and languid with pleasure before too long.

Those trembles encouraged him. He didn’t want to make her quiver, he wanted to shatter her. To fracture her very foundation. Every curl of his tongue as though he could sense a weakness beyond the sanctity of her lips.

Every thought of her was responded to with an affirmation of his own, a sense of assurance that he would give her exactly what she begged for—even if it killed him in the process. Sweat filmed over his muscles, beading at his hairline as heat swelled within him. Still, he pushed through with the same determination as he did everything.

Hermione's scream of pleasure as it barreled into her after thrust after thrust, hitting that spot inside of her sensitive body, was swallowed by their kiss. Her tongue lashed at his, trying to regain any kind of control as her body tightened around him again, and her nails dragged down his back rather than his chest. Though he’d aimed for it, it swallowed him whole. The kiss she commandeered didn’t just muffle her scream but his. The scalding rumble of it was somewhere in his throat as he careened against her. Once, twice, his hips faltering, no longer steady. A weight seemed to drag at him, his vision filling with a pitch-black starless sky as every ounce of pleasure was siphoned from him. The power of his release into her had her gasp, trying not to move against him.

Her body trembled, clutching him as aftershocks of pleasure had her whimpering into the kiss that she refused to break. Almost as if she were the one hungry for him right then. Needing the contact so that she could feel that rush and feel that pleasure down to her very soul. His heart was a symphony of drums beating in his head. Breath coming with the ease of drowning. The demand that taxed him caused him to lean forward into their kiss, hands abandoning their posts against her flesh to steady him on wood. Slowly, he retreated his tongue, slicking it over her lower lip before looking her over. She shivered, her pupils blown wide, her body flushed from pleasure.

Her hands smoothed through his hair, over his back, closing her legs lightly against his hips to hold him close. He was going to be covered in scratches if this was how he wanted to spend their honeymoon. Her fingers trailed over his arms as she looked up at him, her gaze moving between his eyes and his lips.

He should have been sated, should have felt relieved from the weeklong need to climax. He breathed, slowly coming back to his senses. “Which way to the bedroom?” he asked, needing to assess need and capability. He had every intention of carrying her there.

She gestured towards the hallway. "End of the hall...the room is gorgeous," she murmured. Potions had been stocked in the bathroom, and after this, she had a feeling they would be more than just healing potions.

His nod was equal parts nuzzle, his lips finding where his neck met her shoulder. Soft flesh he kissed and suckled as if praising its warmth. Every touch she gave him sent shivers across his skin. Ever so slowly, he pulled away until he slipped out of her. The feeling of him leaving her body made her shiver, and part of her craved him back. Their mixed climaxes left his thighs and groan soaked with their bliss, his length nearly clinging to his inner thighs. It made her blush a bit more deeply, even as she worked on catching her breath.

A few more breaths, and he shifted to gather her legs and settle an arm under her knees. “Grab my wand,” he whispered, snaking another arm around her back. It was a traditional hold for newlywed brides, was it not? Perhaps he’d remember to carry her as such across the threshold of the manor once they returned.

She blinked a little in surprise before she picked up both of their wands. Leaving their clothing behind for now, she looped one of her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Done...didn't think you'd carry me," she spoke against his neck, partially teasing, partly shocked that he was doing this in the first place. Was this just continuing to be part of the standards and expectations for him or something he wanted to actually do?

“And let you escape?” Every muscle in his body had a different claim, but he ignored it. Tucked away fatigue and pain in a dark little alcove of his mind maze. “I much rather keep you in my reach,” he offered her a playful expression. After everything, he needed this, needed her, not that he could really ask.

Continue looking at me like that, and we’ll both pass out from exhaustion, he thought, holding back his tongue.

"Where would I possibly go?" she crooned, still sounding a little breathless. She pressed a kiss to his neck and then his jaw, letting him carry her as she nuzzled in against him. That playful expression actually had her expression start to soften a little before she could have sworn she heard him speak, words that had her tremble and more heat roll through her body.

I'm clearly imagining things from that look of his... she thought to herself, not wanting to sound like she was going completely mental.

“Out of my arms,” he replied like it was the most logical answer. “And that simply won’t do.” He knew part of this was their vows. Rationally, he knew, but there was none of that as he marched through the hallway.

"I'm not sure I'd go anywhere at the moment," she confessed with a small shrug of her shoulders. She wanted this, too. She needed the distraction from everything, including her own overthrowing. And he had a way to drive her out of her head.

“We made communication vows,” he reminded. Obviously we’re both struggling not to project… he couldn’t pin point why one thought translated over others, but then they hadn’t had a typical moment post-ceremony.

"We did... I'll admit I didn't think too much about it..."

Why were they struggling not to project? Was it just how intense the sex with him was? How it felt like she lowered all mental shields where he was concerned? Hard to say. They could always figure it out later.

“I did,” he admitted. It was why he was being honest with her. They had to be truthful with each other but not forthcoming. He tried not to overthink how the two could overlap.

“Needed to know we could share things that might not be wise to speak.” Like your list… He tried to figure out if it projected. If there was something he could reveal from the thought. Was it private? Would the Dark Lord be able to capture it somehow? He could think of it as he avoided the bed and went straight to the adjoining bathroom. It wasn’t the pool-sized like the one back home but it would comfortably fit them.

"Of course. Plus, it keeps me from asking questions aloud in front of your men..." she murmured against his throat and nuzzled there. She wanted physical contact. Her mind felt like it was reeling, but the magic seemed to be adjusting. Settling.

Like my list...Does the magic feel like it's settling to you? Maybe consummating the marriage was necessary for that... she didn't object to going into their bathroom. But she had a feeling that cleaning up might be a little counterintuitive.

Somewhat, his mind projected. “I’m more…in control,” he admitted, but still needed that proximity. “Consummation was definitely needed,” he agreed. It made sense, especially because she’d added the part about an heir. His master would have known. What had he been testing? “I think it might need more than once,” he rested his chin atop her head. It would make sense, given the length of honeymoons.

The number of vows likely made this all the more satisfying as the magic started to settle. "More than once isn't something I'll complain about, Draco. If you were bad in bed...." she trailed off. That hadn't been an issue. He was far too good in bed.

“Glad you approve,” he laughed at the insinuation. He couldn’t complain himself, but he was also the one enjoying her, taking from her selfishly. And she kept giving so beautifully.

"Hard not to improve when you seemed determined to show that you could get me off more times in a row than anyone else," she offered with a bit of a smile and a shrug. She was taking, too. How often could he come undone? With potions, several. But she'd be the one a mess unable to walk and too blissed out to function. Pretty sure that had her winning.

He didn’t need to extend the conversation. There was no competition, and the only stick he had to measure was his own. This week would certainly push his own limits.

After turning on the faucets, he settled with her in the large tub. Even if he wanted, he doubted he could let go. Pulling his left arm from under her knees, he took their wands and set them on the ledge that extended to a large window, where they could peer into the rainforest that surrounded them.

As the warm water filled the tub, she shifted to relax against him with a sigh, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. For just a moment she could pretend this hadn't been some deal to save her friends and save herself. Just relaxing and enjoying the proximity of a lover who knew what he was doing to a more skilled degree than anyone else she had slept with. At least she wouldn't have to worry about an unsatisfactory sex life.

"Well, I'll have to remedy that later with something else I had made," she teased easily enough as she stayed pressed in close to him.

Something else she had made? He was starting to be convinced she wanted him to lose it. “Is that so?” His voice low with a gruff edge. He didn’t have to ask if he was that much better. He had inadvertently tortured it out of Wood. Thoughts he cast aside.

Hermione couldn't help but smirk and give a slight nod of her head. "Perhaps I've enjoyed getting to wear pretty things....haven't for a while," she drawled. That was part of it. But when he lost it she could let herself actually let go and not think. It wasn't something she got to do often. Her brain didn't turn off easily, and she hadn't indulged in anything as primal or volatile as any of her previous lovers. Not that he would like that comparison, she was sure.

He let his fingertips trail down the edge of her shoulder and along her arm. “This is by far my favorite,” he nudged to kiss her shoulder. The expanse of her scarred skin, the most genuine sight he’d seen in a long time. “And I’ll take great pleasure stripping you down to your skin,” he whispered.

Even now, she stayed close, surrendering herself to his will. His arms surrounded her, tucking her in. “This is the most privacy we’ll have for a while,” he admitted gently. An entire ocean from their homeland, new waters to test so to speak. “No elves, no staff, no one for miles,” he added. The cottage was self-cleaning, it used magic to maintain itself. A few locals entering quarterly to refresh charms.

Closing her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder a moment, she gave a nod. "I figured as much. Your house..." she paused, taking a moment. "our house never seems to truly be empty."

“No, and if our wedding was any indication, even it’s not safe,” he said honestly. “I’d suspected a leak for some time. What happened…” he couldn’t even think of it without feeling that burn. “He feels us. He knows what we do,” he dropped his tone and swallowed down. “It’s not…” he wasn’t sure how to put it. It wasn’t constant. It required proximity, but the mark was like a pensieve holding feeling and spell. He didn’t even hide his thoughts.

Their wedding hadn't been safe. But what would be? She didn't expect true safety. Her fingers started to trail along his arm, tracing lines of scars that had faded on his fair skin as they soaked in the bath. She'd start washing up soon, even if it felt counterintuitive. "...We had a feeling. Too much magic in those marks for there not to be some level of sensing..." Though she hoped that the Dark Lord didn't feel everything his Death Eaters did. For a multitude of reasons.

His forehead rested against her, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. I spent the last eight days needing...this. He hadn't realized it then. It scared him. Had his master seen through him when he'd made his proposition? He couldn't let that linger, or worse, fester.

Those words had her heart flip-flop a little. She didn't know what to make of that. Of him needing this. This being a distraction? The closeness? An ease to the itching, near craving magic under their skin that hadn't been sated since the vows had been activated by their ceremony? She didn't know. And she was afraid to ask. ....Your presence was missed... She admitted, even as it had her cheeks flush.

The gentle touches along her shoulder and along her arm had her shiver, his fingers getting so close to her scars actually making her tense a little bit. The jarring one-word insult carved into her skin normally filled her with such hatred towards his family that it had made her feel ill on more than one occasion. But as he kept trailing his fingers along her body, that tension slowly eased.

"I'm starting to think you might be insatiable," she teased slightly, tilting her head a little to make it easier for him to kiss her shoulder, her neck, and wherever else he wished to. The intimacy of this feeling was odd considering their past, but she didn't fight it.

"Somehow, I don't think either of us will tire of..." he couldn't finish the sentence.

Being alone had not been as soothing as she would have thought. Part of her craved the closeness of this. And she couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "....I don't think we will. It's far too...." She trailed off, unintentionally projecting her thoughts. Intense. Mind-numbing. Pleasurable. Satisfying.

That word across her arm, he had noticed how it bothered her. It had his hand firm on her wrist, keeping her gaze as he brought it close. She blinked, resisting the urge to pull away. "I can't change much," he breathed before kissing the M carved in her flesh. "Not the past," he nipped at the U and D. She shivered, her breath catching. "And probably not the foreseeable future," he licked across the BLOOD and sucked on it bruisingly. That lick gave her a faint pink blush turning to a brighter red. "But you're mine," he reminded. "Even this." He leveled his gaze on hers. He was done fighting certain things, for certain things.

"I'm pretty sure the ring on my finger is proof of that, Draco." She couldn't use his last name for separation. It was her last name now, too.

"I didn't care when I fucked you at the inn," Draco let his tongue trail over the letters the same way he had then. That lick across her skin sent sparks that became flames, desire burning through her body and making her wet for him all over again. How could he do this to her so easily? Like it came as easy as breathing.

"And I most certainly didn't give two shits when I married you using traditional blood vows," he reminded her firmly. "The ring on your finger tethers you to me, sure," he agreed. "But our history..." he let go of her arm to shift her so she straddled him. He pulled her down against him, letting her feel just how much he wanted her despite everything.

His words were searing themselves into her mind, shifting easily in his lap, so she straddled him, her arms looping around so her arms were over his shoulders. That one nip had her gasp, moaning at that suck as she was trapped by those intense eyes. Like all he wanted to do was consume and own her. And she didn't want to stop him.

Leaning in, he nipped her breast and sucked in her nipple, keeping his stormy gaze on her. "How readily you let me satisfy you with... mind-numbing intensity, is it?" he taunted, using her own thoughts against her. "You're not just my wife," he breathed against the shell of her ear. You're so much more than that... and he hated how easily those words escaped him. Before she could press, he claimed her lips in a heated exchange. She already had too many questions.

The blush heated further as she bit down on her bottom lip. His voice made her tremble as she pressed closer, needing more contact with him. Before she could ask anything out loud, his lips were on hers. She melted and kissed him back, her tongue tracing his bottom lip, requesting rather than demanding entrance in that heated exchange. How much more? She pushed, hoping the thought went through, but not knowing if it did or not.

Gripping her hips, he pushed up against her. He needed her, needed to be inside her, but he wanted her to choose it. Instead of answering her silent question, he demanded more from her lips. It was easier than to acknowledge that she was everything, and he couldn’t admit it to himself. Not when there was so much uncertainty ahead.

I might be inclined to give you some answers if you ride me, he thought, imagining his words pushed down her throat. She always lost control so easily when he was inside her, filling her in every way he could imagine.

Might be inclined. I knew that an honesty vow would only get me so far. The words almost sounded playful, but it also seemed like she had expected him to avoid certain questions. Certain answers. She rolled her hips against him, teasing them both as her breath hitched again while they kissed, her tongue sweeping into his mouth as her nails lightly brushed against the back of his neck.

One hand trailed down his chest, teasing nails over his chest until her hand wrapped around the hard length of him and pumped twice before brushing him between her legs. She took the moment to tease them a few moments longer before properly lining him up and sinking down the length of him with a muffled moan.

It took more than he was willing to admit to remain still as she gripped him, even more so when he felt her warmth against his sensitive tip. A moan rumbled against her lips as he felt that immediate pressure taking him in and enveloping him.

We both have our secrets he reminded. And right now, we’re both projecting uncontrollably and incapable of lying, he reminded. They needed to learn control, and what better way than this deliciously dangerous game they were playing?

The feeling of his moan had her tremble at the sound. She slowly circled her hips, grinding down against him as she moaned into the kiss. And you want us to try and block the other out while you're inside me? The projected thought was a bit more incredulous this time, not wanting to break the kiss as she slowly lifted, only to sink back down. Starting with a slow pace to tease them both.

She didn't want this to end too soon. Wanted to savour the feeling of him filling her body and touching her, teasing her. The taste of his mouth on her own. It felt like a craving. She nearly moaned again at the thought. ...you feel so good... It was a broken thought she didn't mean to project.

Seems more effective than duress… his mind supplied, another moan escaping him. Though the water alleviated some of the added pressure of her weight, he still struggled, especially with that thought fragment. And though he hadn’t felt incapable, a part of him had always wondered if women just praised him. Especially her, given how she’d tried to kill him in bed.

How good? he started easy, prying as he kept steady. Hands loosely on her hips, he let her dictate the motions, feeling that slow rise of heat despite the stark contrast from their previous pace.

Her hand trailed back up his chest, fingers carding through his hair. Breaking the kiss, she took in a deeper breath, trying to focus on projecting her thoughts into his head. So good... She moaned, slowly increasing the pace of her movement, wanting more from him. The witch bit down on he bottom lip, trying to muffle her sounds so she wouldn't keep moaning so loud, even if they didn't have anyone who could hear her.

Never faked it. Never screamed for anyone else. It was an admittance and a truth she could give him. It kept her cheeks flush, kept her body heated and craving more of his touch. But she couldn't say that out loud even if she knew he knew it. Had seen it even.

An admission that had him swallow down. It wasn’t like she could lie to him. He liked that he had that power over her. It was heady, and when he claimed her lips and parted them with his tongue, he curled it to feel every ridge of her palate. When he pulled away, he slicked his lips as he met her gaze. I never slept with the same witch twice until you, he admitted, leaning to kiss the dip at the base of her throat. He hadn’t had a steady witch since Hogwarts…couldn’t risk a target. Instead, he nipped up the side of her throat. She was different. For one, he knew she could handle herself. Even as a target, he knew she could be her own knight in shining armor. Something he couldn’t be.

Hermione had expected him to boast. Had expected him to be arrogant over the admittance that felt so wrong and strange to let him have. Something had to be wrong with her. Clearly, she had to have snapped or cracked while torturing or killing other people. He made it hard to care about any of that. She felt more alive in his arms than she had in seven years, and she didn't want to think about what that could possibly mean. Especially not as clear shock showed in her eyes at that admittance his mind whispered into her own. A soft moan left her at that kiss to her throat, increasing her pace a bit more. And now I'm the only witch you'll sleep with again... It was the only answer she could actually articulate. Her feelings about his own admittance jumbled with surprise, shock, and satisfaction for a reason she didn't want to look at.

Though he had known that would be the case, hearing it tinged with her voice against his mind was an entirely different sensation. Yes. It was undeniable. For the rest of his existence, she would be the only witch. His witch. And he’d do it again. Risk never touching someone again. He wasn’t shocked, but he hadn’t expected a certain level of satisfaction at the prospect.

The one-word answer had her grind down against him with a shiver. She shouldn't feel those sparks of possessiveness, of enjoying the fact that no one else would know how good he was at this, but she did. The idea that he would make her unravel as often as he wanted to was a heady idea. And it had her moan before she nipped along his neck, nibbling there as her breaths became more uneven.

He supposed his admittance made it so he should pry again, but he hadn’t exactly let her ask anything. It was an act he feared and welcomed. He couldn’t guarantee not being able to hold back a response in their quiet conversation.

Who do you think they’ll send next? he asked. If anyone knew, she would. They needed to prepare for it.

The question was one she was unprepared for. There were a few variables. It had her slow down her movements, almost whimpering as she did. Building back up would take a bit longer now. The fact that it was unsanctioned means it could go two ways. Another unsanctioned attempt would be someone we went to school with or a sanctioned one...foreign allies, moles, or someone higher up in leadership.

It was hard for him to focus on anything but how good she felt. Part of him wanted to stop this game, to help find a pace that would obliterate them both. If this weren’t pivotal to their survival, he would have. He focused on her words. Knowing they would likely be targeted again. Part of him wanted to ask if there was any chance it’d be Potter, but he wouldn’t mention another wizard in such a position. Foreign allies. He wasn’t surprised.

The thoughts and admittance would start to dampen her desire if they weren't careful. The idea of them hunting her wasn't a pleasant one after all. Why did you want to claim me rather than kill me?

Because I…need you, she made it hard to keep that need shielded. Even the Dark Lord had pried the feeling that borderlined desperation.

Continuing to ride him at that slower pace, she shifted there in his lap. Her lips smeared along his neck, though the admittance of that had her drawback to meet his gaze with a bit of surprise. Needed her? It couldn't be as simple as this that made him need her. She was good in bed but she didn't think she was so good she warranted a need. He might be that good, though. There was a part of her that had missed him. She didn't look too closely at that either.

You need me?

I do… he supplied. Care to....expand on that? She kept her gaze on his as she rolled her hips into him, resisting the urge to try and dig through his mind as she might have before. Trusting him was going to be crucial to their survival at some point. She needed to start trying to do that now.

I don’t know, he admitted, swallowing down. Those trails of kisses were ghosts on his flesh now that he held her gaze. Did he care to explain? Or, as it was, expand. It was a tall order. Your presence at my side solves a lot of my problems, he offered. Was this what letting someone in felt like? He tried to shield the errant thought.

That did have her pause in her motions for a moment as she looked at him. Her gaze searched his as his voice flowed into her mind. While her presence at his side solved a lot of problems, it caused quite a few for her. Didn't it? I see... She didn't know how to answer that. It was...selfish in a way. Solving his problems while being at his side was not something she would have signed up for if she had a choice. Rather than say more, she increased the pace of her riding him once again.

Was that…hurt that he heard in her inner monologue? He swallowed down and helped her hips jounce against him. It’s complicated… he wasn’t sure why he was even adding to it. It hadn’t been personal, and yet, wasn’t it? He rolled up his hips into her. He was selfish. He’d been selfish and would continue to be. He knew that. Why did you accept? he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that.

That help of the rise and fall of her hips helped. The fact that he added on to the answer almost had her nip at him again. Complicated. What about this war wasn't complicated? She had done terrible things she would have never even considered when she was a student at Hogwarts. Terrible things that would have made her parents so disappointed in her. And yet...she did them. Again and again. Like with what she did to Wood. Her nails lightly dug into the back of his shoulders, and she leaned in to nip at his jaw, not wanting to look him in the eyes right then. It's complicated. She answered back. Did he really want the answer?

That was an impasse, wasn’t it? Everything was complicated except for the way their hips continued to meet. Her body moved up and down as it seized his. His breathing low and shallow as he struggled to keep steady, to not fall prey to her. His breath held laughter to it. And eventually, he laughed in earnest. “It’s complicated,” he finally said in his mirth. All of it was bloody complicated.

That laughter actually had her meet his gaze again, a bit more of a smile curving her lips before she nipped his bottom lip with a soft laugh of her own. "You open up about your complicated and I'll open up about mine," she offered, but mostly seemed to be teasing it. She didn't think he would. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue before kissing him again, her rising and falling on his length, coming a bit more quickly, trying to build them both back up.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he nipped her lip, lifting off the tub to meet her motions as they increased their speed. One day, he wouldn’t have a choice. “Though mine definitely beats yours."

She scoffed a little at that and nipped him a little harder. "We'll see." Could it possibly? She wasn't sure. But she kept that speed, and as he rose to meet her, she moaned louder, grinding against him, getting closer to another release.

He could accept that answer. Instead he focused on their bodies, on how perfectly she felt. He didn’t know how much he could last after their last encounter. Any other questions? he asked through that bond, wondering just how much he could control. She had seemed to have a laundry list before their wedding.

She shivered, continuing to ride him with sure movements of her hips as her hand tightened in his hair, and she kissed him, her tongue tangling with his again as she got closer, trying to muffle her own sounds. Many...Don't want to ask them...for just a few more moments.. She barely managed to project, breathing a little more uneven.

Instead of prying, he nodded, accepting the loss of power for what it was—allowing her to take from him. Even with her taking her in control, he felt like he was still at an advantage. So good… he encouraged her, kissing and nipping.

The encouragement had her shiver and grind down onto him every few rocks of her hips, her fingers brushing along the back of his neck. Kissing him back, she almost whimpered, building closer and closer. Trying to focus on questions at the moment wouldn't have worked and the ones she wanted to ask would have absolutely killed the mood.

How could he think when she rode him so wonderfully? He couldn’t. Even if she had asked, he doubted his mind would manage words now that he was hyper-focused again. Those touches behind his neck, how she took him in. And most of all, the sight of her. She was glorious. Beauty personified. He mindlessly encouraged her, demanding she find her bliss.

That path lay open, and she couldn't help but blush at the snippets that came across that connection. The encouragement, the demands, the praise. It had her trembling and whimpering into the kiss until she moaned louder as she tightened around his length for a third time, her nails lightly scoring below the back of his neck. Why did he just have to feel so damn good?

When she clenched, he knew he was done for, her body near demanding his own climax like a surrender. He’d been too sensitive by their earlier antics, and his erratic breath did nothing for it as he lifted firmly into her, water splashing around them in tune. He commandeered a kiss, claiming her lips as though it could mute his mess of thoughts from pleasure to shame ringing in his brain Kissing him back was one of the easiest things she had done in that moment. His lips were soft, and he knew how to kiss, though this one almost seemed softer rather than that heat and demand of need.

Pushing into her one last time, he slowly peeled from her lips, beckoning her forehead to his. Trembling as her arms stayed loosely around his neck. Stroking her fingers against the back of his neck, she let out a slow breath as he broke the kiss, letting her forehead rest against his.

I want this every day, his mind running amok, the thought escaping before he could stop it.

"Pretty sure you often have a schedule...might not have time for this every day," she breathed, her voice still a little uneven as her heartbeat slowed. She didn't tell him no.

“I’ll do my best to make time,” he retorted, forehead against hers. Even he knew he wouldn’t be able to when he got back to reality. Even their honeymoon had a bit of work tied to it. His days were a blur. A series of chaotic events he attempted to hold together with strategy, but it was getting harder to predict their enemies, especially with dwindling numbers. It made them bolder and downright suicidal.

"I suppose I can agree to that," she breathed. He knew her. It was a startling revelation at all. Others had tried to fit her into a box of what they wanted her to be or what they saw her as, but seven years fighting against each other and six years in school together...he actually saw her, didn't he? It made all of this even more confusing. What did he even want, and how did she help fix his problems? She relaxed into him further as he trailed his fingers up her back and to her cheeks.

Instead of rushing, he let his fingers trail along her spine and spread over her shoulders. Tracing her until he cupped her cheeks. Rather than speak, he brushed his lips to hers. In all of this war, he had denied himself comfort at every turn, especially with it so readily accessible. But here, like this, he knew that was exactly what she was.

Being intimate with Draco had not been the goal; she had wanted an escape from her thoughts. But that gentle brushing of lips pulled at something deep inside of her that had craved true comfort and connection. She'd been denied it for years. Her lips brushed his back, and one hand trailed up from behind his neck to brush over his hair gently.

Those continued soft touches made his skin tingle. “Certainly helps that I’m no longer hunting you down,” he added teasingly, pulling away to reach for the soap. Eventually, they’d be right back in the bath, but for now, he wanted to get to bed. Potentially rest before making a mess of them all over again. This time, when he explored her, it was with sud-filled hands, finding every dip and crook of her body.

She snorted at that and rolled her eyes with a faint smile. "Glad I kept you on your toes, at least. Was starting to think I was making it too easy," she tried to tease back, but it made her feel strange. Focusing on his hands, cleaning her was easier; a soft sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch. It was such a simple thing, being washed by someone else, but it was something different. A kind of intimacy she hadn't shared at all with anyone else.

Instead of replying, he made a low sound as if pondering her words. The breath she gave was almost a laugh. It was as much an answer as it wasn't. She’d made it easy to ignore his own needs. How many sleepless nights had he had? Meals he’d skipped. All in the name of cornering her so thoroughly she’d have no choice but to fall. Neither of them had made it easy on the other, but he had gotten the upper hand there for a while. She had slipped. She wouldn't slip again. Couldn't afford to now if they were going to be watched closely. Instead, here they were, close and entangled in an odd mixture of intimacy and applying the knowledge they knew of the other. Though he had dug out much about her, it hadn’t been quite like this.

Slowly, she lifted up so he wasn't inside of her and settled in his lap. Reaching for the ledge, she grabbed the soap and started to wash over his shoulders and along his arms. If he was going to do that for her, she could do that for him. Even his teenage dreams hadn’t been so tender. Draco was out of his depth, yet she wasn’t fighting him, wasn’t shying away. He wondered how much gentleness she’d known or if she had been denied that as well. Once done with every inch of her, he let her do the same, almost fearing to break the spell of their moment with words.

It had been far too long since she'd had this level of tenderness with anyone. It had a pang of homesickness go through her. When was the last time anyone had cared for her thoroughly? Childhood, probably. But she shoved that away. No thinking about that here or now. Once they were cleaned up, she made sure all of the suds were off of both of them before she picked up her wand and summoned towels.

Draco patted himself dry. He didn’t bother with clothes as he made his way to the large bed in the adjoining room. Soon enough, he’d be in her again, and even if he did need sleep, he knew his body would barely offer him the minimum before demanding more. If the last week had been any indication, he gave himself a few hours before he’d be harder than any potions he’d ever tried in his youth.

Hermione couldn't help but watch as he left the room, following each movement. At least to herself, she could admit that he was gorgeous. Even with the scars. Perhaps even because of some of them. There were a few she had left on him, and her gaze lingered on those. She dried herself off, keeping her wand in hand, and followed after him to get some sleep. The craving to be as close as she could to him still lingered. The magic hadn't settled yet. And she wasn't sure when it would. At least it wasn't as intense as it had been when he first arrived.

When she finally settled in beside him, he wrapped an arm around her. Even now, the magic insisted she be closer, his skin needing hers. He’d never felt anything like it, and after everything, he would wait to question it. Had they miscalculated something? He couldn’t let that make him falter now—not when she was with him, not when he could finally taste victory.

A soft sigh left her lips as she settled in closer to him, breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. She paused for a moment before tucked closer, resting her head on his chest with an arm wrapped around him. As much skin-to-skin contact as she could get. The magic felt like it would have sighed if it could, seemingly content at being pressed close. Did they need something to confirm all of the vows they had made, or was this just the one attempting to ensure an heir? Either way, they'd worry about it later.