The Art of War

“There are three kinds of people: Those who are immovable, those who are moveable, and those who move them.”
– Li Hung

Overhead, clouds extended in thick overcast, leaving deeper shadows in the glum afternoon. It shouldn't have taken this long to get back control, and yet they'd been in a game of push and pull for hours. They'd started near the palace and since found themselves in the nearby neighborhood a few streets away. The tight rows of attached homes and narrow alleys giving a harder terrain to navigate than the openness of Hyde Park. Every turn was treacherous, not that it mattered.

He was on his third duel, a white, smooth-faced home losing its balcony to a curse as he dueled across Sheffield Terrace. Cars screamed upheaved and toppled. Most of the inhabitants had long since sought refuge, which made every building a potential threat. Cowards, the lot of them. A curse shot forward, and Neville riposted. It was hard because he wasn't actually trying to kill him. Merely disable him like he had Hannah. Most had believed her dead, which had left Longbottom with his knickers in a twist. A small price to pay to uphold his vows.

A small arrow spun above her wedding ring, utilizing the point me feature of their vows to figure out where her husband was. There were a few people that she had trained in the fray, and she either stunned them, disarmed them, or worse if they took up too much of her time. A few of the Death Eaters seemed to hesitate when they saw her, which earned her snapping at them that if they hesitated to fight she'd curse them herself, her voice a cool cold snarl.

She cut through alleyways, knowing that it would be difficult to get to certain people. She'd already seen Angelina and had caused enough damage to make her retreat for now. She'd seen flashes of red hair and had avoided them for now as well. That would lead to a longer fight than she wanted to deal with.

Finding Draco would find her Seamus—or at least help her find Seamus. What better goal than taking out the Dark Lord's chief lieutenant? That was when she saw Neville dueling her husband, and as much as she didn't want to hurt her friend, she'd done it before—back when they were eleven. Flinging a stinging hex at Neville as she approached, her strides ate up the distance.

"Well, well, Neville. Playing the distraction?" She called just loud enough to be heard, her voice cold even as her mind brushed Draco's. Seamus is here somewhere. Only reason Hannah would have been dragged out of one of the healing houses.

Her voice was too close to be back at the Manor, and Draco faltered. Not only in his stance but also in his mindset at the new addition to their duel, it was as good as any distraction.

"So you really have turned..."

Neville's words were cut short as the blond shot a stupefy his way and watched him fall.

You shouldn't be here, he pointed out, keeping his wand at the ready. Now he had dead weight and potential explosives to deal with. Where would he be? he asked her. She would know best. After all, it was his present that had brought her here. At least she could hold her own.

The words were enough to make her almost grimace, but she turned it into a glower as she kept her friend's attention while her husband stunned him.

"Not the first one to say it today," she drawled as she glanced around.

You can scold me about it later if you feel you must, but I won't apologize for wanting to keep Kensington from blowing up with my husband in tow. Her mind drawled, trying for nonchalance, but there was a trace of worry that she didn't want to feel for him.

She closed the distance between them and glanced towards balconies, looking for the signs of explosives or vials that she knew Seamus would use. Highly populated areas that would take out the largest amount of Death Eaters and civilians....

"So you mean here," he tried to remember the last explosion. Seamus Finnegan. The name was enough to piss him off. The kid had been trouble in school. Only he could try to levitate something and nearly set a row of desks on fire. He'd been grateful not to have had so many classes with Gryffindor and even less with that Gryffindor in later years.

He could berate her later. For now, he trusted her judgment and would try to stop whatever she foresaw happening. He was glad for his mask, if only to stop her from seeing worry lines between his brows or even the tension in his jaw. It was one thing to watch his own back, but now he needed to watch hers, too, especially out here. He doubted most of his men would be dumb enough to try, but one never really knew, now, did they?

"I mean here," she said simply, her voice cool and calm despite the worry she experienced. Damn it, Seamus. Why did he have to follow Hannah everywhere and drag her into it? At least this way, they were likely able to get Neville and Hannah out of this and smuggle them away. If she could get them to believe her that this was what was best for them. Neville would take a lot of convincing. Hannah might not.

Taking a few steps forward, she flicked her wand, using accio to summon the vials that she was certain were nearby, but she hadn't expected to already pull half a dozen. As they drew closer to her, she vanished them as quickly as possible so that she didn't summon something that could explode in her face. She continued to walk forward. Don't suppose you'll let me handle Seamus on my own, will you?

You want to give Finnegan a fair fight? he asked surprised. No, he rather overkill. I'd rather take him in alive if we can. He had a few men who would happily spend a few hours with the deranged master of explosives. He wouldn't deny he'd find enjoyment himself, but that was a different story.

It was odd, walking beside her, both with their wands ready. She didn't look like before, and yet she was unmistakable. His robes, the mask, she'd seen it countless times, and yet she hadn't shied away. Quite the contrary, she kept his pace as though she were exactly where she belonged.

No, I'd rather he not go off the deep end seeing you and decide to blow everything up before he can be incapacitated or put down. Because Luna was right. As idealistic as she had been when Draco first asked her for a list, there was no saving Seamus. There hadn't been since Dean died. Capturing him would be a mistake. Ever since Dean died he's been more unhinged. Diggory's creature without actually any of the knowledge. Just the knowledge he needed to do something.

Keeping that steady pace as she nearly prowled along with her husband, she scanned the alleys and just barely deflected a jinx aimed at her and then another aimed at Draco as she spun to face the alley.

Seamus didn't look as put together as he once was. He was gaunt like she had been and it made her realize just how poorly she and her friends had looked. How unhealthy they had been. Underfed. It only made him look more unhinged. There were singe marks on his eyebrows and hair, soot on his fingers, and he gripped his wand as if he was afraid it would fly out of his hands. The boxes near his feet had her more nervous than she wanted to admit. They could be empty, with vials spread across Kensington, or they could be full, and he could be about to blow them all to kingdom come.

"Seamus..." Her voice was calmer, almost soothing, and different from how she had talked to Neville.

Deflecting another jinx, she grimaced.

"Granger...Though it's Malfoy now, n't it? Knew Longbottom thinkin' you'd just been locked up was wrong."

"And why would I lock her up?" Draco drawled, perhaps antagonizing the man wasn't the best of ideas. He didn't like the way he spoke to his wife, and he'd thrown a curse his way, which had been avoided. Pity.

The Irishman turned his sights on the Death Eater. Everyone knew the swirls of Malfoy's mask like it was his face. There was no anonymity for the sole heir. There was a wild hint to his gaze, a snarl on his lips. "Glad ye brought the treacherous bitch," he smiled wickedly, throwing a vial their way and slicing his wand across the air to cause a detonation. "Means I get a two fer one..."

The shield charm she threw up held, the explosion spreading across it with flames licking on either side of the walls. They were going to end up setting damn roofs on fire if they weren't careful. "Better than unhinged nutter, Finnegan. You're going to get all these nice people killed," her voice became a bit colder, not mocking, but the same tone she used against others when she fought them when she had been on his side.

Dispelling the shielding charm, she cast a spell that she had seen Dolohov cast a few times, a burst of purple life that was known to cause cuts and bruises along the intended victim.

Draco didn't taunt when his wife did. She was definitely pushing his buttons, and it only served to prove his point. It was nice to be on the same side for once. Those flames licked at the edges of the shield she'd thrown up, forcing him to wait to retaliate.

When it dropped, he shot curse forward, which Seamus careened out of the way, missing it by a hair. At least he'd been hit with his wife's curse, developing cuts on his arm.

"Go dtuitfeadh an tigh ort!*" Seamus cursed at them.

No sooner had the words been uttered, he shot his wand forward.

Draco's Gaelic was rusty at best, only recognizing a single word that had had him throw his robes into a deep billowing smoke, gripping his wife to fly her out of dodge. House, the madman had said house, and he'd anticipated the worst. In his motion, he felt a searing pain through his shoulder and down his arm, but he pushed through, taking Hermione down a few blocks and under the cover of trees.

An explosion rang closer to where they'd been taking six houses down that had loomed at their backs. "Crazy arse," he growled, ignoring the heat that wrapped his wand arm; the steady trickle of garnet liquid that seeped into the ground at his feet.

Thee flight had her stomach heave and shift as she tried to clutch right back at him. She couldn't afford to let herself get sick when there was a fight going on. Even if all she wanted to do was go and get sick from the rush of the flight in smoke. When they stopped under the trees, she looked back at the smoldering buildings.

"More unhinged every year," she grimaced, though she noticed that dripping down his arm, and her gaze snapped up to his face. For a brief moment, worry flashed in her chocolate gaze before she cast a quick spell to bind the bleeding arm. How bad is it? She asked before others of the insurgency came running.

Spinning around, she used his godfather's spell against three of them, her eyes narrowed on them. "I would truly prefer that no one kill my husband today," she drawled with irritation and an edge of protectiveness.

How bad was it? He knew it wasn't good. Probably won't be able to hold my wand much longer, he thought back, pushing his limits anyway as he knocked back a shadow stalking towards his wife's back. Unless you can temporarily stop the flow, he pried. If she could, he could at least keep fighting for a while. It could be healed later. Fuck he hoped they were getting to an end.

That tone, the way she defended him. It wasn't a sight he had ever thought to see. And it had him livid. She had risked herself, and now...He didn't want to think about it.

Knocking the few approaching insurgents back with a careful flick of her wand, she managed a better spell than just binding the injury. It added pressure to the laceration to actually hold the bleeding back, like temporary stitching or a liquid stitch. It wouldn't last long. Hopefully long enough for them to get home. Then I suppose we make quick work of them before my spell work isn't enough to keep your wand arm stable.

Another explosion happened closer this time, and the rather unhinged Irishman didn't seem to mind the destruction he caused as he approached. As he threw another vial at the pair of them, slashing his wand to ignite it, she repelled it straight back at him and genuinely delighted in hearing him scream. It wouldn't kill him. Those vials alone wouldn't. But the man would be covered in burns. Seamus didn't handle pain the way that she had forced herself to be able to. He only came to the field when it was time for full-scale destruction.

His screams made the few insurgents she could see scatter. Though as one went to attempt to grab Seamus, she quickly cast a full body lock as she had on Neville when she had been a girl. Their body stiffened and dropped like stone to the ground. No one else attempted to save Seamus.

Draco fought at her side, ending curses sent their way and sending a few of his own in riposte. Home. Home was a thought that kept him going. She had made it so that he wasn't losing the precious liquid that had been draining from his arm onto the dirt ground. The slick red that covered the back of his hand and fingers as he kept a firm seize on his wand, refusing to let it get slick by giving leeway.

Those screams were a nice show of what was to come. It'd been a while since he'd had one of those in his dungeons. Most of the insurgents he crossed paths with practically thrived off of pain. He couldn't blame them, it could be such a freeing sensation. Get your prisoners, he flashed thoughts of Hannah and Neville. Where their bodies had been left looking lifeless. Hide them in the carriage house at home. We'll sort it out tomorrow.

As people scattered, abandoning who they thought was dead or going to be dead weight, she glanced over at Draco. Her fingers brushed along his shoulder. Don't overdo it. You're getting healed as soon as we're home. Her voice was stern in his head before she stepped away and apparated quickly enough to grab Neville. Using a levitation spell, she apparated with him towards her next mark.

At least with Hannah in tow, she'd be able to prove that they hadn't killed her. She got to Hannah and levitated her before apparating them all back to the manor. Getting them settled in the carriage house, she tugged at the wards, making sure no one but her or Draco could go in or out. Leaving the enchantments on them for now, she left the building and strode back up to the manor, keeping her hair bound so she could set about healing her husband.

Down in the dungeons of the manor, Nott and Zabini were locking up a severely burnt Seamus Finnegan, Luna having followed them in tow. The blonde had made the claim that they would need him functional to interrogate, and short of an actual healer in-house, she sufficed in a pinch. At least until a proper healer could be summoned.

A scene Draco had avoided by making it to his study. With his free hand, he let his mask disappear in a puff of smoke and slowly released his wand on the desk. His fingers had been so firm around the hilt, he had had difficulty letting go. Dried blood cracked and fissured at his knuckles. Slowly, he shrugged his robe off his good arm and carefully peeled it off the other. Beneath, his black shirt clung to the skin of his arm.

"Point me," she said softly to the ring, glad that it pointed back to their wing of the manor. She strode past a few Death Eaters, not sparing them a glance as she took the stairs up two at a time. A flick of her wand opened the doors in front of her and had them closing behind her as she went straight to her husband.

Looking him over, her mouth set into a hard line before, with a flick of her wand, she summoned potions, a book she had recorded some healing spells since she wasn't the best healer by far, and cleared off the desk. Gesturing for him to sit, she managed to keep her cool a moment or two more...but only long enough to get things set up before she started cutting away the sleeve of his black shirt.

"Are you absolutely mental? You took the full brunt of that spell and could have ruined your arm, Draco. If it had hit both of us, we'd have both been hurt, but not nearly..." she gestured at the spiraling cut on his arm that had gauged so deep with worry and exasperation as she passed him a potion. "Drink."

Had she always been this bossy? He clearly remembered her being snippy with her friends. Back then, he hadn't understood the appeal. Not the way he did, as she sat him down and took charge. Rather than mourn his precious control, he eyed her and drank the potion.

"I misinterpreted his statement," he told her honestly. She'd warned him that he would try to blow things up, that he was unhinged. He'd half expected Seamus blow all of them up out of sheer spite. "Never had an interest in the tongue of drunkards," he explained his dislike for Irish Gaelic. "I heard house and thought..." he sighed. It didn't matter.

The damage to his arm had some of her own control crack. Concern was clear on her features as she pulled bandages closer and started to slowly and carefully cast a spell that did stitch the skin back together, helping to heal the damage along with that potion. Healing was difficult. It took a lot of work and focus, and she tried to hold onto her irritation.

"I know a few words and phrases in Irish Gaelic...but I only caught part of what he had said before I was grabbed.....What did you think he meant exactly?" She kept her gaze on his arm, knowing she had to work a bit more quickly if she wanted to stitch everything closed before he started bleeding profusely again.

“I anticipated an explosion, not this,” he pointed to his arm with his good hand. The Irish and their damn curses. He hated everything about the language down to the best they could muster was calling someone a chicken’s arse. It had made French almost appealing.

He tried to keep still as she worked. Not to wince, but it was hard. “We can still call the healer,” he muttered. Not that he was any gentler. Just efficient.

"Well, thank you for not wanting us to be blown to bits." She was trying to sound softer, but she couldn't help but take in his arm. She couldn't get that mask back up, and his arm was worse for wear. Letting out a slow breath she gave a nod of her head. "....Fine."

The healer would be able to do this faster than she could. It wouldn't hurt less, but then she could get him to rest before interrogating anyone. Because she'd be damned if she let him just go straight down to the dungeons.

Grabbing a piece of parchment and quill, he jot down a quick note and sent it flying. A small paper airplane flew out his window to the cozy cottage down the street.

“Did anyone see you with the other two?” He demanded. “Are they secured?” Helping them or not, he didn’t trust them not to wreak havoc on his home. She hoped she’d taken their wands.

Watching the little piece of paper fly out the window, she shook her head. "No one saw me. Their wands are in my pocket. Wards are up that only allow you or me in or out. I was speedy but not foolish," she said simply before looking back over at him.

He had wanted to keep both of them safe when it would have been easier to let her go to fend for herself. It had her contemplating him again.

He nodded. He could work with this. Smuggle them somewhere. Where that would be was up in the air. Perhaps Asia? A small island in the Pacific? It was a problem for a different day.

“You did good,” he praised quietly. She’d been perfect not that he’d expected less. “Probably one of the most reckless things you’ve done,” he added.

"Better than good. Your note gave me the information I needed..." she admitted with a shrug. Neville and Hannah would be safe. Two names off of her list, and the relief was enough to keep her a little more reckless. "I'll have to disagree with you. This isn't nearly the most reckless I've been."

Meeting his eyes again, she let out a slow breath. "...at least I don't have to worry about you being blown up now. You could have apparated away. What if you flying us out made me too sick to fight, and you couldn't keep your wand? I can handle a fight on my own. If I could hold my own against you, a few insurgents that I helped train before would hardly have been a problem."

Relief he was okay mixed with the worry that maybe next time he wouldn't be. The conversation with Luna earlier had her thinking about what she wasn't willing to give up. Apparently, he was on the list. Damn it.

Draco shook his head. She was wrong. Perhaps the small battlefront had been nothing compared to her past, but her stunt would have lasting effects.

“You better get used to flying,” he gritted. He had half a mind to give her lessons. Once he was healed. “And we were fine,” he reminded. Apparition risked splinching. It was inconvenient especially with the potential of debris and explosives.

Hermione wrinkled her nose and gave a shake of her head. "Pretty sure I lack the aptitude for it. Hated it on a dragon, a thestral, a broom, and that smoke. All of it." It made her nauseous. Flying on a plane didn't. Any of the magical ways of flying? Sick to her stomach.

“Tell me, did you enjoy fighting your former camarades?” He demanded. “Because once word gets back, what do you think will be expected?” He demanded. Pitting her against old friends hadn’t been on the table. Not in that manner.

The two questions had her stomach drop and she felt that anger coming back to replace the other emotion. Of course, he had to ask that now. "Not particularly. But Seamus had been a problem ever since Dean died. Killing him will be a mercy. The friend I made at school has been gone a long time..." she muttered, shaking her head, her mouth getting away from her. "It really should only be expected that I help my husband if needed. I would rather not have you blown up or maimed or dead."

The blunt honesty has her cheeks turning pink. What was wrong with her?

He wanted to poke and prod, but a knock on the door told him his healer had arrived. “To be resumed later,” he warned. He wasn’t done. Couldn’t be done. Not when she was making excuses. A mercy. He wasn’t in the business of mercy.

Needing the change of scenery, he rose from where she’d sat him, the limitations from his arm having kept him from engaging her fully. Looking at it had been a mistake. Though Hermione had done her best, he hadn’t been ready to look at the ribbon of torn flesh that spiraled down from shoulder to wrist as if one singular strand of flesh had been pulled. He wobbled in place midway to the door.

While she had been prepared to drop it for now, she grimaced as he faltered on his way to the door. Oh, bloody hell, Draco. She closed the space between them and took his good hand, squeezing it gently. Sit the hell back down. I'll open the door for the healer. Bossy was easier than letting herself slip, but she was already slipping. She already only wanted to look out for him.

Whether he listened or not, she let go of his hand and moved ahead of him to open the door. Heal him first, snap at him later.

Pain, he was used to. Even being on death’s door hadn’t been a stranger to Draco Malfoy. Seeing his wand arm in its current state. Knowing how far he had pushed himself and what the consequences could come from it. For the first time in his life, he had felt fear. Cold. Hard. Knee jerking. Her words were easier to follow than his own mess of thoughts. His precious control slipping. Anger. He clung to it and wrapped himself in it as he sat on the nearby couch.

In the doorway, he noted the elder wizard. He’d been near retirement, and the offer the young Malfoy had made for him to be on call had swayed him. He hadn’t lacked the work, and yet his days had been much calmer than they would have been in a medical setting.

“Ah,” he sounded in understanding, skipping the formalities and heading straight to the blond’s side. “Not your worst,” he carefully reached for part of the pale wrist that wasn’t exposed. His gaze followed the missing swirl of skin.

“You stopped the bleeding, I assume,” he called on the brunette without looking at her. “Rudimentary but…I can work with this,” he set the arm down, opening his bag with his wand.

“Mrs Malfoy, I need a blood replenishment potion and whatever salves you have." Though the tone was demanding, it wasn't harsh. Merely the culmination of years of practice. "Unless your husband has finally accepted to use potions that are not in his personal collection." The man's jade gaze turned to Draco.

A life spent making this sort of split-second decision. It was his wand hand. The very part of him that kept him alive.

"Did you have something specific in mind?" Time was what he needed. Time and information. Unless the healer before him had a potion that was beyond his own collection, he hadn't seen a point in risk.

Looking over at Draco as he took a seat, she let out a breath and opened the door for the healer. Letting him get to work, she summoned a few potions, pretty sure Draco wouldn't take potions from the healer. Blood replenishment, something for the pain once the one she made him drink wore off, something to help accelerate healing so the Dark Lord wouldn't harm his wand arm...

The protectiveness she felt over him was staggering. It took a lot of self-control not to hover around him and try to see what the healer would do.

"I did. I'm not an accomplished healer, but I've gotten by," she said simply, glad that the healer could work with what she did. She came back over with the potions and salves in tow, placing them on the table near the healer.

She walked around the back of the couch, letting one hand rest on Draco's shoulder. She wasn't leaving, but she wasn't getting in the healer's way either. "We have more than just the basics, but if you think something more focused and aggressive needs to be used..." she glanced down at Draco, and that concern was clear a moment again.

Trust him not to poison you?

Did he trust his healer? Hermione Granger had certainly weaponized healers, and yet there she was at his side.

"Depends, do you have a muscle relaxer?"

Draco nodded and looked to his wife. No. It was honest. He didn't trust anyone not to use this sort of situation to their advantage. Especially one that needed their loyalties bought.

A sigh left the older wizard, and he motioned for the brunette to fetch the potions, waiting until Draco was given a muscle relaxer. "This is going to hurt," he said. He'd stopped asking if the lieutenant wanted pain relievers a long time ago.

"Just fix it," he gritted, and the pressure that had barely been keeping flesh together subsided.

Heat coursed through his arm, the wetness returning as the healer unleashed everything to start healing from the beginning. If he hadn't had similar injuries elsewhere, he might have thought the man was out to kill him. Perhaps he was, but then there was that tingle. Gentle at first before turning into a dull ache. Healing magic was never quite how one would expect. It was a mix of soft hums of magic and cruel twists.

"Most cuts are clean," the healer muttered. "You should make a full recovery if you stay still for this next part."

A nod. It was all he could muster, the dip of his chin barely a twitch as he braced himself, leaving his arm as still and untensed as he could. It hadn't stopped every other muscle in his body from doing the exact opposite. His teeth were so firmly pressed together he feared needing to fix those next.

A red jet from the healer's wand slithered from the opening at the man's pale wrist and seemed to follow the ribbon that inched around his arm. The first part was like an itch, deep and demanding, as it found the parts that needed mending. Magic assessing and burning. It was unbearable, his left hand balling into a fist, his short fingernails causing a tingle rather than the deep pinch of crescents he wanted to dig into his palm.

We really need healers that we can both trust. Or at least that one of us can trust enough not to screw one or both of us over. sooner rather than later if she had her way.

Retrieving the muscle relaxer, she made sure Draco drank it and then left her hand on his undamaged shoulder.

Despite hating seeing what had happened to his arm, she watched and rubbed her thumb in what she hoped were soothing circles into his shoulder. Stubborn man. She watched every spell with alert intensity even though she kept her expression as relaxed as possible. It was just as hard as pretending that everything had been fine when Harry was hurt. So, she at least cared for him somehow. She was screwed.

You're going to grind your teeth out of your skull. it was whispered so much more gently through his head than she would have anticipated.

Better than risking my wand arm dearest, his mind strained, yet welcomed the distraction she offered. There was no need for her to stay. Nothing for her to gain from massaging her fingers into his good shoulder. He was grateful when the white-hot pain subsided, and he took a deeper breath the likes he hadn’t allowed himself to until then.

“Salve every six hours. Do it for two days, and you should avoid any scarring. Tingling and numbness are to be expected for the next couple of days. Any more than that, and you come to see me.” He looked between the pair of them. “Can you keep him out of trouble for three days?” He asked the brunette. “He needs more than a day to make sure everything settles in its rightful place.”

If you needed to hold my hand, all you had to do was ask, darling. Even with the snark, she kept rubbing those circled into the back of his shoulder. That deep breath reassured her and she glanced at the healer, offering a faint smile. "I can certainly try. You seem to know how my husband can be." Which was to say, he was a stubborn arse half the time.

She kept her hand on him as she looked back at his arm. It looked better but still raw. Still painful.

That snide remark had made him want to crush her hand out of sheer spite. And she was angry at him for taking the brunt of it, which only made him silently stew.

“If that’s all, I’m certain there’s someone downstairs in need of your abilities,” he told the healer cooly. He’d done his job and spoken more than he should have.

With a small bow of his head, the healer sealed his bag and rose to his feet. “Always a pleasure,” he sighed. Though it was obvious, it was anything but.

Draco waited for the door to close to inspect his arm. To test the tightness of his skin as it slowly knit back together. “I believe we left off on your reluctance to face a fear,” he looked her over. Despite everything, he was calm. Even in anger there was a level to Draco instilled by years of being on the other side of a cane.

Watching the healer leave the room, she looked back at his arm, and her expression started to soften before he made that statement and instead? Her eyes narrowed on him. "I am not reluctant to face a fear. I have dealt with it on several occasions. It has made me sick to my stomach every time." Her tone let on a little too much to her irritation.

Letting her hair down, she pushed a hand back through her hair and met his gaze with a bit more annoyance. That level of calm was going to likely make her more reactive eventually. She could feel it in her bones.

"Are you going to stay here for a few days to make sure you don't scar and damage your wand arm?" she replied as coolly as she could manage. The nerve of this man. Why did she care anything at all for him?

He didn't stop staring at her. Oh, he would teach her to fly if it was the last thing he did. She seemed fine in the carriage, which meant it was likely the loss of control. Did she fear losing control? He tried not to linger on the delicious ideas that came to mind. It wasn't like he could act on them. Not for a while.

"I don't know, are you going to run off into battle?" he demanded. His anger should have stayed focused on himself, but she'd done the bloody Gryffindor thing and come save him. Had he needed saving?

"Depends on a few factors, including how long we can keep Finnegan's capture quiet and how long he can withhold," he sat back on the couch, resting his head back and looking at the ceiling. What was he going to do for three bloody days? He'd go stir-crazy. He knew it. Sitting and doing nothing wasn't in his making. But so did she. Why was she asking? He rolled his head to look at her. "You offering to keep me distracted for three days?" he drawled with a bit of a smile.

The edge of that look was in his eyes for a moment, and it made heat roll through her. They couldn't. He needed to rest. Because, of course, he did. One of them had to get hurt, which made everything even more frustrating than before. Damn it.

"If you stay right here, I have no reason to go running into battle." She shrugged even as her mind brushed his. It's not like I came running for Hannah. Even if that did tip her hand a little bit. She cared. Wasn't sure how much, but she cared. Somehow. Damn him.

A bit of a chuckle left her. "He'll hold out for a while. We can always draw it out." The moron had called her a traitorous bitch. So she could make sure he suffered for all the pain he caused to others. And for daring to harm what was hers. "Possibly. We had been interrupted. I manage to distract you that long you'll really need to make that interruption up to me."

He could stay right there, at least for a while. When her mind brushed him with that thought, he looked her over. He’d left her wanting. He hadn’t meant to. What he didn’t know was how to reply to that admission.

“I promised to make up for it, didn’t I?” He smiled. They could focus on addressing the lingering source of frustration. Don’t need my arm if you’re… he slicked his lips, imagining her knees on either side of his face, hands white-knuckling the headboard. An image he happily shared through the bond as he kept her chocolate gaze. Perhaps it would suffice to forgive not finishing what he’d begun.

Seamus would be busy screaming for some time. Who was he to deny his men a little fun?

A bit more blush filled her cheeks, but her eyes heated as she met his gaze. It had her heartbeat skip and then thunder in her ears. That sinfully skilled tongue of his was going to get her into trouble. If she wasn't already deeper in trouble than she realized. Closing her eyes a moment with that image playing in her head, she could almost hear her own sounds. He'd told her that she sounded pornographic once. Perhaps she'd make it even worse for him later.

"You did...and you haven't broken your word to me once." Her voice was warmer, less chilled, but still controlled, even with the blush in her cheeks as she met his gaze with her own again. You are truly a corrupting influence....promise to rest a little, at least?

They'd have to sleep at some point, and she didn't think she'd be leaving his side any time soon.

Meeting that stare, feeling the heat that rose in her cheeks, he could practically see the cogs turning in that beautiful mind of hers. He was in trouble, and he knew it. It didn't matter, not if she was thawing and willing and keep him busy. There was no way he'd lack sleep if she chose to stay with him. Not as he had the past few weeks.

I'm the one doing Gryffindor things, he reminded. If anyone is corrupting anyone... he teased her lightly, taking a stand in his shirt, still missing the sleeve she had cut off.

"Let's get you to bed then," he offered in a low tone. They could clean up after he'd made a mess of her.

And I'm being cunning and ambitious. Consider it an even exchange.... It wasn't as if she could blame him for her own vices. He was just providing a much better outlet than any of the men before she'd taken to her bed.

The offer had more of that heat roll through her, and with a flick of her wand, she vanished his shirt entirely. He was paler than usual, the blood loss impacting that, but he was still so lovely to look at. "Let's. Can't let my husband be bored or lonely, now can I?" As if she were doing him a favor.

A careful bit of wordless and wandless magic opened the door to his room, and she started off ahead of him, waiting until she crossed the threshold into his room before she stripped off her blouse and looked over her shoulder at him.

The chill of his study, the opening of that door. It didn't matter if she threatened him with a good time at this point. He followed her in slow, steady strides. Though his chambers were as he'd left them, the shift in his covers told him she'd spent the night in them. Likely waiting for him.

A thought that was gone as soon as her blouse exposed her softened curves, he'd come to know by heart what felt like a lifetime ago. It took a great deal of effort to only settle his left hand on her hip, pulling her in to brush his nose against hers. His good hand smoothed up her back to snap the clasps of her bra with ease. He hadn't been born ambidextrous, but he'd worked hard to keep some similar ability to both of his hands. Just in case. It hadn't translated as well with magic, unfortunately. Only certain things, like clasps and forks.

Leaning forward, he claimed her in a kiss. His lips crushed against hers, parting them as he kept her tight against him.

If he hadn't followed after her when she did that, she would have been shocked and thought that all of what he had shown her already was wrong. As he closed the space between them, she pulled the door to his study closed with magic. Her nose brushed his, and that light bit of affection made her heart flutter.

What was he doing to her? Something in her was broken, but she had to remember what Luna had said. Slipping her bra completely off, she looped one arm around him as they kissed, her lips parting for him. Her tongue tangled with his, and she let herself simply melt into him. She missed the taste of him on her tongue. Her fingers trailed carefully down his body and unfastened his trousers. No reason for him to feel trapped.

Unlike their honeymoon, he knew it was all him. Not just some magical bond demanding her flesh. Finally, she was offering herself to him, and he was limited. There would be no tying her to the bed, no making her writhe until she cried out for him, begging for sweet release. It should have bothered him, troubled him that he enjoyed the way she worked to push his pants off his body. Items of his attire he gladly stepped out of along with his shoes.

Continuing that heated exchange, he reached to pry the opening to her pants open. Biting her lip to distract from the struggle that was her button. He needed her out of her clothes, to feel every inch of her skin against his.

As she took him out of his trousers and his pants, she helped him get her own off of him as he struggled to get her out of her clothing. Stepping out of her shoes, her knickers, and her trousers. Her fingers smoothed over his chest, but they lingered and moved slowly as if she were checking him for any other less severe injuries. Even with that heat, she was a little worried about his well-being. Probably because of just how bad his wand arm had been. Had she ever gotten him that badly? The fact she couldn't remember in the sea of damage she had done was troubling.

Kissing him back deeply, she walked slowly back with him towards his bed, making sure that there wasn't that much space between them as she moved.

Just like any other dance they had shared, Draco filled every opening with a step of his own as they made their way to bed. He refused to break their kiss on their way over to the large four-poster bed. Not when he could enjoy the heat of her mouth. When the mattress stopped their march, he kissed and nipped her some more before parting. His good hand combing through her locks.

“I’m not sure what changed, but a man can get used to this,” he breathed above her upper lip, wanting nothing more than to throw her on the bed. He’d have so much to make up for.

She loved the way his mouth felt against hers, the warmth of his breath, the taste of his tongue. As they got to the four poster and he nipped at her before breaking the kiss, she almost whined. Leaning into the touch of his hand, she closed her eyes a moment, reveling in the contact. "Don't question it right now...Later," she promised before nipping at his bottom lip and lightly sucking on it before trailing her lips along his jaw and down his neck.

Bloody hell, he was handsome and strong, and she didn't want to think about what could have potentially happened to him. His plans had almost gone up in an explosion along with his life because of Finnegan. It was almost enough to make her want to march down there and stab the Irishman. But that would mean leaving Draco here for now, and she wasn't about to do that.

“Later,” he agreed, though he likely wouldn’t bring it up. Not that he wasn’t intrigued. Part of him feared what she might say. He’d forced her hand. Included her in a plot that would likely get them both killed. He wouldn’t allow his mind to get between their bodies. Not now.

“I look forward to not questioning anything,” he let his left hand make a straight line down her sternum, trailing lower and lower until he brushed her folds. My tongue has much better distractions coming… the words a caress against her mind.She shivered as his hand trailed lower, and lower, and lower and almost arched into him with a soft gasp. Just as quickly as he’d begun teasing, he pulled away, climbing into bed and carefully setting himself in the middle. When he eyed her, he licked his lips in a silent invitation.

Overthinking what she liked about this situation wasn't going to help her. It wasn't going to help him, and it was only going to make things all the more complicated later. So she was trying to accept it. Trying to get lost in him. And he made it so easy with how he touched her.

Each time they kissed or he touched her, he lit a fire in her. Made her crave more of what he had to offer. You're incredibly skilled with that tongue... she praised as she watched him pull away and get onto the bed. That slow lick of his lips had her shiver as she followed him up onto the bed, carefully moving to straddle his face, resting her hands on the headboard in front of her as she blushed deeply. Part of her was almost nervous about just lowering down onto his face.

It was a pleasure in itself to watch her come closer, to settle like he wanted her to, and yet there was that hesitation. One he met by snaking his left arm around her hips to guide her down. I’ll let you know if I can’t breathe, he teased. It wasn’t like they had the limitations of other couples. They could be gagged and bound and still never lose communication.

The way he guided her down had that blush heat in her cheeks further before she did as she was guided, lowering herself down onto his face as she kept a careful grip on the headboard. ....You better. She didn't have any witty comeback or a teasing comment. She was familiar with a few positions but she hadn't done this with any other partner before. Just like she didn't trust any other partner with those dark facets of herself that he seemed to enjoy so well.

When she was just at the right place, his tongue delved to trace her slit. He circled her clit, and down and circled her entrance. He committed every fold to memory, drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and flattening it to spread her in a couple laps. He wanted all of her. Not a quick build like he’d been offering in the foyer, but a teasing one. Just her taste had had him hard, but this entire position made him want to ride her while she clutched the very same headboard behind him.

A soft gasp that turned into a quiet moan left her lips at that first touch of his tongue. The way he circled her clit and slowly traced her entrance had her getting hotter, more slick with desire as he slowly tasted her. This wasn't as fast or intense as the foyer had been, nothing quick to try and make her writhe quickly. Why did she have a feeling that despite being on his face, he would still manage to make her beg?

Even with the proximity of her thighs limiting his ability to hear, he could hear her. Those soft sounds she made, the way her moans seemed to vibrate through her body even at their lowest frequency. He had barely gotten her going, and she was already making him struggle with his plans to take it slow. If it hadn't been for his arm, they'd have been in a far different situation, one where he wouldn't have offered her this false sense of control.

Breath heavy against her core, he lapped at her, his tongue circling her entrance a few times before entering her. Shallow at first, stretching against that initial resistance before delving deeper, leaning in to get every bit of leeway he could.

The feeling of his warm tongue against her, lapping at her and circling her, had her shiver. Her eyes fell closed as she focused on just how good that felt. On how much she enjoyed the way he touched her, how he knew just what to do to build her up. And how right now he was taking his time with it. He wouldn't take too much time...would he? That feeling of him pressing his tongue inside of her had her shiver, resisting the urge to grind down onto his face. But only just.

Why hadn't it taken a lot of convincing to get her to sit on his face? She should have encouraged him to rest, to sleep, to do something to help the healing of his arm. Instead? This. Their chemistry was easily brought to the forefront if she didn't overthink everything.

You taste so good, he praised, moving from her entrance to latch onto her clit, sucking it firmly before grazing it with his teeth. A harsh sensation he smoothed with a gentle tongue, circling and flicking her. He wanted to do more, but he kept his healing arm at his side the best he could. Devouring her would have to suffice.

That praise had her whimper and had her squirm. Damn it. The praising tone and words were going to get to her again. Just like they did the night that she had seduced him. Even if doing that to this degree hadn't been the point at the time, it wound up with them here. That whimper turned to a moan, as she gripped the headboard tighter to keep from bucking as his teeth grazed over her. He carefully soothed any harshness, a mix of soft and harsh that kept the build-up slow.

There'd been so much to untangle. How she shifted at his words, the growing sounds as he teased her. A mixture of pain and pleasure seeming to be just the right balance of momentum. It had him repeat the process, never settling on a set sequence. His lips pressed against her, treating her core like he had her mouth so many times. Remembering the patterns she had melted for. His chin was soaked with her desire, and he reveled in it.

The continued mix of pleasure and pain had her breath hitch, becoming uneven. Each time she thought she might know what he'd do next, she was wrong. He kept her guessing, and she couldn't focus on anticipating the next stroke of his tongue as her grip tightened on the headboard. She wanted it to be his hair, the back of his neck, her nails digging in. She wanted to feel even closer to him and felt like she needed oh so much more. But this? This almost had her writhe. "Draco," she moaned his name a little louder, knowing he seemed to enjoy just how his name sounded on her lips.

Every so often, he glanced up to study her, to watch as she clutched and seemed to try to anticipate his tongue, lips, and teeth working in tandem to pleasure her. He wished it was him she clawed and gripped rather the carved wood paneling of his bed. Wished he could keep her there and slip into her from behind. Especially when his name fell from her lips that way. Mmmm dearest? he teased, flicking her more firmly with his tongue.

Hermione felt like she was utterly wrecked. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes hazy from pleasure, and her grip stayed firm on the headboard. Her legs almost shook as she kept herself from grinding down into his tongue, kept herself from adding any friction that might tempt him into doing more. Her head fell forward, her hair falling into her face as she tried to catch her breath, tried to be steady as small twitches went through her legs. Closing her legs around his head wouldn't be good either. The firmer flick of his tongue did have her buck slightly on a louder moan. "Oh bloody hell..." she whimpered.

That buck of her hips was the small dent in her armor of control he'd been looking for, and he repeated the motion. He didn't just want to obliterate her to pleasure. He wanted her to buck, to grind against him, to take as much as he was willing to give. To make her so wanton with need, she would have no issue riding his face. Seeing her expression, the way her hair framed it as her features contorted with pleasure. He'd always imagined her in pain, and yet this was far more fulfilling.

As he repeated that motion, she gasped his name and ground down against him, her hands gripping the headboard tighter. Her nails lightly dug into the wood as she attempted to keep herself still, but each time he repeated that motion in the mix of what he was doing or each time he sucked on her clit, her hips ground against him, bucking slightly as her breathing became more uneven. He was snapping all of her carefully won and trained control and grinding it to dust.

And it was absolutely delicious. Watching every one of those walls fall. Feeling her hips roll into his mouth, encouraging what he'd had no desire to stop. Pushing him towards what she needed, he listened to every last demand of her body, praising it for being so honest. A few times, his nostrils flared with the extra need for her, but he didn't care. Not when he could taste that incoming bliss he was building.

Her body trembled, her eyes falling closed as she ground down into his mouth. He was ruining her. Snapping some sort of control that she had in taking care of her this way. While she wanted so much more, to be filled by him until she screamed, this felt amazing. That tension and pleasure kept building, making her moans louder and pitch up a bit as she tried not to fall apart just yet. So good...fuck...so good at this... Her thoughts were fragmented, and clearly not meant to be broadcast as she attempted to hold it together a little longer.

The praise certainly stroked his ego, considering he didn't exactly invite witches to ride his face with abandon the way he was pushing her. Every fragment of desire encouraged him to tuck in more firmly and assault her sensitive areas more viciously as she ground and rolled her hips on him, adding to the pleasure she so desperately saw culminate in bliss. Feeling her hips try to keep to their own pace, he groaned at the thought of how they'd feel against his hip, taking her pleasure from him in a similar manner.

The vibration of his groan against her core had her whimper softly. Her legs quivered, and she had to carefully keep herself from continuing to grind on him. She was so close to being pitched over. She had no idea how long she'd been riding his face, pressed so close to him, being lavished with that tongue. "Draco," she pleaded on a whimper, her breath hitching again as she clutched at the headboard in that white-knuckled grip he had imagined.

Every roll of her hip against him had him moan into her slick warmth. Between his thighs, he was harder than granite with need. His hips bucked into emptiness as he did his best to keep her on that upward stride to orgasm. He wanted to feel her drip with pleasure over him. To leave him absolutely glistening with how pleased she was. Come for me, it was as much a demand as it was a plea. I want you to come all over me, hie let his mind reach out.

She barely registered hearing that slight shift on the bed, her heartbeat roaring in her ears along with the sounds of her moans of his name. If this was what he was capable of doing with just his damn tongue, she was a goner once he was able to do more with his hand. Even if she wanted to yell at him, even if she wanted to deny he felt anything other than obsession..they both cared. Somehow. Someway. And at his demand, she tried to hold out, tried to be a bit more in control...but failed. She clenched on nothing, wishing he was filling her up as she moaned and ground against his face.

Bliss stole her breath and had her keep that hard grip on the headboard. The witch rode out her orgasm on his face before lifting up onto shaking knees, bracing her arms on the solid wood before her as she trembled, not wanting to simply crush him. Her eyes were a little glassy with pleasure as she looked down at him, trying to catch her breath.

Did she realize how absolutely stunning she was, riding him with abandon? He had seen her try to deny his request, to keep herself from doing just as he wanted, and then it had been almost cataclysmic to her resolve. Her warmth and wetness filled his every sense. Her legs stole his hearing as her core took over taste and smell. Filling him with her very essence as she clenched and dripped for him with bliss.

He was almost disappointed when she rose. The cool air teased his chin as he took in a sharp intake of air. He felt lightheaded in the best way. The smile on his face borderlining wicked. "I'm not done with you," he unwrapped his arm from her to reach between them and brush her folds with his thumb.

Hermione had to stay braced on the headboard, her legs trembling as she leaned forward towards the headboard to take some of her weight. She felt far too breathless, and that wicked smile of his had her clench, made her crave whatever wicked thing he was planning. That brush of his thumb had her shiver and she closed her eyes to take in a deep breath.

"And what are you wanting to do with me, darling?" Her voice was a little huskier from her orgasm, cheeks still flushed from bliss rather than embarrassment or shame. "Wanting me to sit right back down on your face? We do have to be careful of your arm...." Even if she wanted him to fuck her till she couldn't catch her breath.

"I was thinking of a different part of me," he kept that smile, eying her wickedly. That flush in her cheeks, the way she spoke in that breathy edge to her voice, he felt his length twitch between his thighs. "Similar," he assured, projecting an image of her straddling his hips with those strong thighs of hers, riding him with more fervor than she had his chin. "Not that this wasn't..." he moaned. She'd been absolutely delicious. "Might consider it again in the future."

The way he looked at her had her tremble, and she carefully moved off of him to lean back against the headboard she took in a slow breath and gave a nod of her head as she looked him over. Her gaze drank in every line of his muscles, each scar, including his poor arm, and then every smooth, hard inch of him as that image filled her head. It had her legs squeeze together. "...Move a little further up the bed...and I will gladly ride you." She met his gaze again.

How many times had he laughed at those silly buttons that had surfaced asking to save a broom and ride a quidditch player? He certainly wasn’t laughing now. Not when she spoke so graphically. Without a second thought, he inched up the bed as she asked, settling more comfortably in the pillows. It offered his neck a reprieve from his earlier antics. His left hand smoothed over her, needing to touch her, to keep that contact between them like it was a tether.

The fact that he listened without a jest or a teasing statement was nice. And it allowed her to watch his body, seeing just how hard he was. One of her hands trailed down his chest and down between his legs, slowly stroking over the hard length of him before she stole a kiss, not caring that his mouth had just been between her thighs. He'd kissed her after ravaging her mouth, after all. "Mmm, three days of this and I might get used to being on top," she playfully warned, even when she knew she didn't mean it at all.

That kiss, he’d tried to take control, to push against it with that fervor of his, but it was over too quickly. Instead, she seized him and teased every which way she could.

“Just means I’ll enjoy taking you down a peg,” he retorted as easily, groping her breast as she pleased him. Her hand felt good, but he knew what would feel better.

Raising a brow at him, she couldn't help the slow smirk as she met his gaze, swiping her thumb across the tip of him. "You think you can when I'm at my best?"

She was challenging him on purpose, remembering the more bratty behavior in those books. The malicious compliance. All of it would help her here, in actually indulging in something she truly wanted. Rather than dwelling on that, she moved to straddle him, her hands smoothing over his chest. She carefully kept her hands away from his healing arm as she slowly rocked against him, teasing them both with a soft moan.

“Mmmmm…” he sounded pleased at her statement. “I know I can,” his tone was a mixture of confidence and knowledge. He liked it when she resisted. Adored when she told him the opposite of what her body offered. It was a shame he couldn’t offer her that.

Instead, he focused on how she touched him when her body was taking him in. He glanced between them, watching himself disappear between her thighs and into that slick warmth.

“Can’t complain about the view,” he tweaked her nipple with his words. She was gorgeous atop her. Riding him like that.

Slowly sinking down the hard length of him until he was fully inside of her, she shivered, trying not to moan just yet. Control. She had to be able to get a little bit of that back, didn't she? Absolutely...maybe.

"We'll see," she countered, trying to disagree without actually disagreeing because she couldn't. She couldn't lie to him. Not completely. Not with their vows. But she could ask questions and avoid the answers. Or try to.

A moan left her lips, and she arched her chest into his hand, wanting more of that contact as she started with a slow and steady rise and fall on his length.

That she didn’t disagree kept a bit of a smile on his lips. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight him within the realm of their vows, which was so very arousing.

With the leisurely rise and fall of her lips, he took his time with the palmful he tweaked. His thumb slowly smoothed over any harm done as that throaty decadence escaped her.

Her weight made all the difference in her steady pace. He felt like everything was more intense with that added pressure it added. And the view he had. Her body and every delicious muscle that set to work. She’d flipped them like this once, but now? He moaned, hips rolling into her set pace, meeting her as she impaled herself.

The light touch after the tweak had her shiver, had her pressing into his hand. She kept the rise and fall of her hips steady, not picking up the pace at the moment. Though as he rolled his hips into her, meeting her as she came down on him, she moaned a bit louder.

Increasing the pace without increasing the force of her rise and falls had her shiver. Her nails lightly dug into his chest, not nearly as hard as she would have clawed him earlier. Each movement was carefully calculated, making sure she didn't actually harm him and he didn't move that arm.

Through everything, it was keeping his dominant arm down, stopping it from touching her, teasing her, yanking her. The things he wanted to do to her didn’t fit that careful up-and-down motion she controlled.

As pleasurable as it was, he wanted more. Would she listen if he demanded? He was limited on enforcement, limited on his use of magic.

Carefully, his hips pushed up more firmly, wanting more of those decadent sounds of hers. “Are you going easy on me?” He demanded, punctuating his statement with another thrust up. It lacked the strength he could put if he braced against the mattress but still got his point across.

The way he studied her had her start to raise a brow before he answered with a demanding question and a thrust up into her. It made her moan, and she ground down against him a little harder. Her cheeks dusted a light pink.

"Are you saying I shouldn't? Don't want to tempt you into doing anything that would strain that arm," she admitted but did start to come down a bit harder with another moan. After one orgasm, she was sensitive, feeling things more strongly now.

Looking him over, she did grind down against him between every few bounces on his length.

Sweet, wondrous retaliation he enjoyed. The feel of her responding the way she did. Even in tandem, their bodies had a way to maintain the laws of physics. Every action having its equal and opposite reaction. He pushed, she fell. He demanded, she questioned.

"I'll strain more if you don't give me more," he reminded, giving her another thrust up, careful to keep his arm free from added weight for purchase. "Don't get me wrong, you are exquisite like this..." he punctuated it with another push against all that sweet weight of hers. But we both know I need more... His mind pleaded his case. Even their weeks in the jungle had been heated. Not in the controlled way he had shown her, but there'd always been a bit of pain to their antics. A claim, something more than just flesh. They were more than entanglements and bliss.

More. It seemed to always be a push and pull, demands and claims. But she didn't dislike it. Taking in a slow breath, she increased the pace astride him and gave a slight nod before she moaned. Those thrusts up into her were going to make her crave more as her nails dragged down his chest. "And what more do you want? My nails in your skin? My teeth nipping or biting?" She almost crooned the words as she leaned down closer to him, nipping at his jaw with her hands braced on his chest.

...You're mine. I'll make sure I can give you what you need. It was as much a tease as a promise to him. She wanted to hear his own moans, hear his pleasure. She needed it. So bad. Because each time he praised her, shamed her, or moaned...she built so much faster. His witch indeed.

In such a short time, she had gathered so much about him. Knowing she couldn’t share his secrets had certainly left him more willing to share, but the way she crooned and taunted him, highlighting her statements with actions. It had a moan build in his throat. One that had his eyes open wide and his lips part to let it escape as her mind supplied a more shocking delivery. Many had wanted to claim him, but none had made him desire such a statement. Swallowing down, he took a few seconds to compose himself, gripping the back of her neck to nip the tender skin beneath her ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he growled, wishing he could claim her more thoroughly. Mine, his mind echoed her earlier sentiment as he pushed up, making his motions count as she increased the pace. Enjoying a few more nips and bites, he eventually released her neck. Don’t hide against me, I want to watch you take your pleasure, he encouraged. Wanted to see her as she rode him, fell apart for him.

Those wide eyes and the way he moaned for her had her starting to smirk, her own gaze more heated, more eager for him as she looked down at him, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and nipping at his collar. As he gripped her hair, though, nipping beneath her ear, her breath hitched. If he started murmuring in her ear right, then she would have melted and wanted even more for him to be able to pound into her and take control. Something had to be wrong with her for just how badly she wanted him. Or maybe their jagged broken pieces fit together more than she wanted to think about.

"Hold me to whatever you want," she replied cheekily at that growl, even as she shivered, blushing a little more. That push up into her had her gasp, moaning louder against his skin before she pushed herself back up, nails digging into his chest. She was glad, not for the first time, that their wedding date didn't remain carved into his skin. That didn't mean that he didn't get to wear her claw marks. The movements of her hips were more sure, faster, bringing herself down on him a bit harder as she rolled her hips with another moan. That smirk curved her lips again as she tilted her head back a little bit, letting her hair fall back to put herself on even more display for him.

You want to watch? Is that just because you can't do exactly what you want to do to me? Bratty. She was playing with fire and she knew it but she wasn't afraid of getting burned by this particular fire.

He'd hold her against every piece of furniture in this Manor once he was better if that was the level of sass she was committing to. At least she did as she was told. That malicious obedience of hers was addicting. He just had to keep it together for three days. He had a feeling she would make those days excruciatingly enjoyable. Especially when she showed the power of her thighs as she slammed down on him.

It pulled sounds of his own, rougher breaths that borderlined snarls. You wait until I can do what I want to you, he retorted firmly, his gaze darkening as he sought her stare. He'd remind her she belonged at his mercy, writhing in pleasure and begging for completion. His. She was his. Would always be his. Regardless of how their story ended, that fact wouldn't change.

Reaching between her thighs, he placed his thumb just shy of where they met, giving her clit a firm press as she sat down firmly on her.

The way he looked at her made her realize she was likely in for it once he was able to do as he pleased again. They'd discussed it while they were pushed by magic during their honeymoon. It made her briefly wonder if he had thought she wouldn't actually follow through with any of it. The rougher breaths that were nearly snarls had her smirk a bit more as she moaned, grinding down against him before continuing that more intense pace.

He felt so good, but not nearly as good as it felt when he took over. Promises, promises. She bantered back easily, her gaze meeting his. No one looked at her with nearly as much heat as he did. Arching into him a bit harder, her nails dug back into his chest, grinding down into his hand as his thumb pressed into her clit. "You feel so good, Draco."

"You look as good as you feel," he managed back to her, his breath coming more labored. She was strong, and he couldn't help but feel she would have been perfect on a broom if she hadn't had that ridiculous fear. Makes me want to put you in a harness and take you while you're all strung up in the air for me, he teased an image of her legs spread, her body held in the air by bindings like a decadent swing.

The image that he projected into her head through that bond had her blush a deeper shade of red but also had her clench on his length a bit. Her breath hitched, her eyes met his, and she was rather certain she wouldn't mind the idea of being at his mercy. In a completely different way than she'd been at his mercy before. Does it? I might just have to let you. She would never have her friend's boldness to break his things, but she could be bratty as could be.

Let him? She would let him? His hips rolled up as firmly as he could without bracing, his fingers digging into her hipbone, encouraging her motions. "You'll love it," he promised. He'd make her beg. In fact, he didn't hide just how needing and begging of a mess he would make her. Fuck he'd make her writhe for antagonizing him while he was injured.

Remember I'm letting you ride me. His mind was a bit of a growl. An image of his good arm tugging her hair back while taking her from behind. He wouldn't need a second to achieve that. Just the one would suffice.

Riling him was easier than she would have thought, all things considered. Though she supposed she'd had years of practice. Though that sort of riling up hadn't been nearly as fun as this. Those rolls of his hips up into her had her moan a bit louder. Looking him over, she lightly bit her bottom lip. "So confident," she crooned, rolling her hips into him as she built further and further.

"Pretty sure this isn't you letting me do anything," she taunted right back, her voice breathy, though her eyes widened at that image. Her grip on him tightened a bit more, betraying how appealing she found that idea. Just like in that damn club.

"Haven't heard a complaint yet," he stifled a moan, enjoying the feel of her, the way she continued to build herself on him. His thumb shot from between her thighs up, his head coming off the mattress as he gripped her throat, kissing just beneath her lower lip. It hadn't been the smoothest for his recovering arm, but he'd live.

"No?" he asked as he squeezed that column of skin and nipped her chin. She'd have to do all the work rising and falling off him, but that didn't mean he couldn't take back a bit of that control. If he'd been harming her, the ring would have stopped him. His pursuits were pleasure, and she had a safeword.

"Wouldn't dare complain..." she trembled, gradually increasing the pace once again, though as his hand shot up from between her legs and his hand wrapped around her throat, her breath hitched, and that alone almost drove her over the edge. The blush heated further, her eyes wide as she stared into his eyes.

One arm looped around his neck, nails digging into his back between his shoulders, the other remaining on his chest so she didn't jostle his injured arm. A strangled moan left her lips as she ground against him, her heart racing. ...Perhaps it is... She still teased, pushed, but that safe word didn't even whisper across the bond.

He could practically taste the pleasure on his tongue. The way she breathed and hitched her breath. He'd made her come enough to know just how close that had taken her. His tongue met her cheek as his hand squeezed, working that airflow as she teased him in every capacity.

His back arched into her nails, impaling himself further into their sharp embrace as he encouraged that harder pace. You're so fucking hot, he pushed through the bond along with how she affected him. How hard and tightly wound he felt. Like she was cranking him until he'd break.

As he kept playing with her airflow, cutting it off and letting her have gasps of air, she trembled as she rode him with abandon. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, muffling her moans al ittle more as his mind whispered and brushed against her own. She felt like she was being driven out of her head. The little bit of control he had grabbed back from her had her tremble and crave when he'd be able to do so in a more intense capacity.

So are you...you're looking at me like that again... Like he'd consume and claim every inch of her that he could. And he would, wouldn't he?

Like what? He demanded, squeezing more tightly before giving her the air needed to respond. As if he could decide which of her breaths were worthy to come out. Another means of taking her over. She was his. In moments like his, he needed to remind her. To give her something to remember him by. Proof that she had given him what she'd received. He hoped his hand would be imprinted around her throat by the end of the night. Meals would definitely be delivered to them. They were leaving his living space.

That squeeze had her nails drag down his back before she took in a few ragged breaths, not stopping her movement, so close to the edge that she could feel it making her legs nearly tremble again. Did she want to say it? Think it? Admit just how much sway he had over her? Would thinking it really hurt anything, though? She quickened the pace a little bit more, trying to catch her breath before he could cut off her air again. ...Like you could break me apart...just to put me back together again to do it again...and again...Like every piece of me is yours.

Sweet, delicious thoughts he collected with a yearning deep in his bones. His grip tightened around her neck as if squeezing the living daylight out of her. Every piece of her to break and rebuild and break again until every last one was forged by his hand. “You forget the best part…” his voice laced her with silk before coming like the crack of a whip. “You’ll want me to do it,” He filled her with the statement. Pushing it into her with every thrust, saturating their bond with not only how owned she would be but how needy she could get for him. He let her gasp for air-like punctuation for his words. Enjoy to remind her just how sweet her sounds would be for him.

The way his hand tightened around her neck had her hips buck a little bit more, her eyes wide, and her cheeks flushed as she clawed at him. That near purr of his voice, as he teased her, had her almost whimper, if she could even get the air to make the sound. That statement filled her head, and as he loosened his grip to let her gasp for air, she cried out as bliss rushed up to claim her, tightening her around his length as she ground through her release. She clutched at him, not hiding due to his demand she not do that earlier. She was so utterly screwed, and he was right. She craved it.

That abandon, the way he speared her and she rode him through an orgasm, he couldn’t have stopped from exploding with pleasure. Not after that graphic portrait of ownership she’d painted. And though he knew she might never say so, she reveled in what he offered her. Leaning forward, he slid his hand to her chest, replacing his bruising fingers with kisses and nips along her neck.

The hand on his back stopped digging in as she stilled her hips, her hand going up into his hair as she tilted her head. Allowing him to kiss and nip along her neck as she tried to catch her breath, as her body trembled. A bit of shame rolled through her for how much that thought had gotten to her, but she shoved it away. Shame didn't do her any good here. Not when they were so entangled and not when enjoying it couldn't actually hurt.

Again, he’d find himself sporting her marks, and again, he was unbothered by the thought. Instead he wrapped his arm behind her back and brought her back with him on the bed. After everything, he was finally coming down from the last day. The hours of battle and how arousing it had been for her to show up at his side. It went against his very upbringing to do so, and he hated wanting to see her in the thick of it that way. Especially when he was trying to put an end to it all. Instead, he pet her back, focusing on her warmth and all she had to offer.

Catching her breath, she didn't fight him pulling her down with him to the bed. She made sure she didn't move or bother his injured arm to the best of her ability. Without thinking about it all, following impulse, she placed a few kisses on his neck and nuzzled in against him there. Relief that he would be okay had her petting her fingers through and over his short hair, staying close to him as she breathed him in. He was fine. Or at least would be fine and likely wouldn't have a scar from this. His thoughts echoed in her head and nearly made her tremble all over again.

The soft kisses, the nuzzling combined with her fingers in his hair. It had goosebumps build over his arms and tingles behind his shoulders, prickling the base of his neck. What changed? He tried not to question it, keeping still in case he scared her away. Maybe even a little too still. This wasn’t exactly something he did let alone a reaction he stuck around for. Hermione wasn’t just any witch, though. She was his witch. His mind was heavy, and for the first time since they’d gotten back from honeymoon, he knew he could sleep deeply. Especially if she stayed tucked so closely. Bring up the blankets, his mind asked.

How still he was had her drawback just enough to look at him. In five more hours she'd have to apply more of the salve. So she wasn't sure just how much sleep she'd be getting. But she reached for her wand, actually casting a timer spell that would wake her in five hours before she did as he asked and drew the blankets up and over them both. She slept better next to him, even if she didn't like admitting it. You aren't going to spook me....or are you wanting space? Just because they had passed out curled up together before and he seemed upset when she didn't join him for bed, that didn't mean that he wanted her here. Using a quick spell to clean herself up a bit, she paused before pressing a light kiss to his lips. More cautious, but also holding more emotion.

You're not going anywhere. It wasn't a request; in fact, it was more threat than demand. He wasn't letting her go. Not again. Not this time. He needed her there, wanted her heat and her presence. It was more than he had anticipated. Space was the last thing he wanted.

So demanding. Her mind whispered to him before she closed her eyes and curled in closer, nuzzling in against him. She liked that closeness. She continued to play with his hair and let herself relax. "I'll be up in five hours to apply the salve...then you need to eat something." Her voice was already softer as she relaxed and let herself melt into him. If anyone tried to hurt him or come into this room without one of them wanting it, she'd hex them.

If she hadn’t been so close to him, he might have had a bone to pick with her. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to linger in between rest and alertness. Rather than a verbose response, he made a humming noise in approval. A single consonant in response. His good arm tucked her closer to his side.

A small smile curved her lips, and she simply basked in the fact that both of them would be alright. It was the first time in a long time that she'd just had small cuts and scrapes rather than full-on injuries. She'd savor it. There was no telling just how often that would happen.