XVII
Her eyes drooped again, and she bolted upright. The sudden movement triggered the Devil’s Snare around her neck and arms. The leathery threads tightened while she let out a frustrated sigh. She was exhausted. She could barely keep her eyes open. But she knew if she didn’t take her dreamless drought, she wouldn’t get a moment of rest.
“Malfoy,” she said.
Her voice was scratchy and laced with fatigue. He was sitting near the window with a book open in front of him and her watch in his hands. He was studying it with extreme focus. His wand cast wordless analysis charms over the watch. His face was a fierce look of concentration. He chewed on his bottom lip the way he would during school during an exam or a quidditch match.
“Draco,” she said louder.
His head popped up over the watch, and he looked at her.
“Do you still have my coat?”
His brows furrowed.
“Yes.”
“Can I have the dreamless drought inside it?”
Her coat flew toward his hand as he stood up and walked toward her. His hand pulled out three vials from the inside pocket and set them on the small table next to the chair.
“I think we can make a fair exchange,” he said. “Don’t you?”
She tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry. She needed the cool liquid of the potions. He summoned a glass of water and held it up to her lips. He released the Devil’s Snare around her neck, and she greedily drank from the glass.
He placed the empty water glass on the table and brushed some curls from her face. His fingers lingered near her cheekbones. She fought against the urge to lean into their warm touch.
“Ready when you are, Granger.”
He unstopped the dreamless drought, and she nearly salivated.
“The portkey has twelve locations. One for each of my safehouses. When the hands line up with a number, and the crown is pushed, you’re transported to the location assigned to that number.”
His eyes flashed with fascinated curiosity, but he honored his promise. He tipped the dreamless drought back into her mouth. She could have cried.
“Are you done trying to kill me tonight, Granger?”
She nodded, the effects of the drought already settling over her like a warm glow. He released her from the rest of the bonds. He slid his arms under her legs and around her waist and carried her from the chair to the bed. Her nose rested right against his neck, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to take a large inhale. Spearmint, fresh-cut grass, and parchment. The lingering notes of his cologne were still there, too. A musky leather. Spicy. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the rhythmic steps he took around his room.
He placed her on the bed and took out his wand. He gave her nose a gentle tap, and she was instantly relieved of her denim and jumper. She looked down and found that she was wearing silver and green quidditch robes. On the front was a large number seven; on the back was Malfoy’s name and another seven. She gave him an exasperated look.
“I think you look quite fit, Granger.”
His grin continued to widen as she rolled her eyes. She tugged up the blanket beneath her and sank into the covers. The sheets must have had millions of thread counts. They were the softest thing she’d ever felt on her legs. She tried to ignore the fact that her legs were completely bare under the long-sleeved uniform top. She was too exhausted to care.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her. He brushed away another curl.
“Where would you go to feel safe, Granger?”
His fingers made scorching trails along her chin and over her lips. It felt so nice. She didn’t want him to stop.
“Leeds,” she offered him before exhaling and drifting into sleep.
***
She was trapped again. The drought hadn’t worked. The roar of memories filled her ears and dream space. She fought against it. Pushed it down, away, anything. But the memory didn’t budge.
She was on the cold marble ground of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix was poised over her. Her breath was noxious and hot against her cheek as she shouted at Hermione. She shook violently while she cried. Another Cruciatus paralyzed her with pain. She felt it all over again. It was the exact same.
She tried to wake herself up. She knew it was a dream. She knew Bellatrix was dead. But she couldn’t stir herself. She screamed as another Cruciatus struck her.
“Granger!”
She could hear Malfoy shouting at her. But she couldn’t respond. She was stuck under Bella’s torture. The knife tore into her arm next. She screamed at the searing pain. It burned so badly. She just wanted it to stop.
“Granger, if you don’t wake up right now, I’m using Legilimency!”
She cried harder. She wanted the pain to stop. It hurt so badly—another Cruciatus.
“Last chance, Granger!”
She screamed as the poison warmed her skin.
“Legilimens!”
She cried as Bellatrix traced the first D along her forearm. She dug in so deep. The poison on the blade made it excruciating to bear.
Above her, Bellatrix disappeared into a dark cloud of smoke. Draco stood above her now. His wand out, glasses on. This was older Draco. Her body convulsed from the lingering effects of the curses.
“It’s just a dream, Granger,” he said softly. “If you don’t want me here, push me out. Tell me to fuck off.”
She couldn’t stop crying and shaking. She didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t know if Bellatrix would come back.
“St-” she tried to say. “St- st- stay.”
He pulled her up into his arms. He’d gotten so big since becoming an Auror. He wrapped her against his chest and waved his wand around them. The manor disappeared.
“Look, Granger.”
His voice was a gentle whisper in her ear. He kept his arms tightly around her as if he could hold all her tremors and keep her body from shaking. She opened her eyes and saw the sun shining brightly against them. It was Leeds.
“Your parents took you here fourth year,” he said. “Before the Quidditch World Cup.”
They stood in front of the Thackray Museum of Medicine in Leeds. Her parents loved taking her to different museums.
“You talked about it incessantly in Muggle Studies that year,” he said. “Let’s go have a look about.”
Her trembling had subsided, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He kept her wrapped tightly against him as he walked up the steps of the Museum. He walked through the exhibits with her in his arms, whispering little comments the whole time.
“Didn’t realize you had a thing for torture devices, Granger,” he teased her. “Your kinks are positively barbaric.”
Her tears had dried up as well. Her arm still stung lightly, but it was easier to ignore it when she could focus on the memory of the museum.
“Bloody hell,” he said at the exhibit featuring amputations. “Muggles actually let each other do that?”
They must have walked for hours. But he never once faltered or needed a rest. He paced the hallways of the museum with patience that perplexed her. This wasn’t the Draco of her memory. He was still so young and thin then. A hollowed shell of the man he is now. This Draco was the one who had her bound in his room. This was the Draco that had stopped her from killing Smith. She closed her eyes and inhaled. The same smell lingered.
“You’re safe, Granger,” he whispered to her as he walked. “You’re safe.”
***
Hermione was burning up. Everything around her was so warm. She cracked her eye open to find herself locked against Draco Malfoy’s sleeping form. He was on his back, and she was draped over him. One arm was locked around her waist. The jumper she slept in had ridden up, and his hand rested on her bare thigh just a finger’s length away from her bum. His other hand was wrapped possessively around her neck and threaded through her hair. Her nose was buried in his neck, and she could feel his soft breaths along her hair. She was also painfully aware of his shirtless torso that her hand was resting on. Their legs were knotted together as well. The intimacy of this position made a blush rise to her cheeks.
She delicately tried to roll over and untangle herself from him, but he rolled with her. His arm tucked up underneath his jersey and rested on her bare stomach. The other arm rested underneath her head. He pulled her against his chest and buried his nose into the back of her neck, where he inhaled deeply. She held her breath and tried to ignore the way her pulse flickered. The light was pouring in through his large window now.
She tried to shift and put a little distance between them, but he pulled her tighter against him. His fingers grazed the underside of her breast. She bit down on her cheek. She was trapped. Her eyes scanned the area in front of her, and that’s when she saw her watch. It was lying on the bedside table just beside her head. She stretched her fingers out and tried to reach for the watch. She was so close.
She shifted a little more toward the edge of the bed and stretched her fingers out again. They brushed the edge of the band as she strained against the hold sleeping Draco had on her. She leaned even more, and her body was suddenly dragged to the center of the bed.
Draco’s muscular form wrapped her in a vice grip. He pulled her over him and held her back against his chest. His powerful thighs encased hers. His arm tightened around her ribs, and his free hand wrapped itself around her neck.
“Granger, Granger, Granger.”
His rich baritone voice in the morning sent pulsating shocks between her legs. She struggled against him but was met with the force of his growing erection against her thigh. She let out an intimidated squeak as he held her in place.
He moved his head to the side, blowing her hair away from his mouth.
“I’ve been choking on your hair all night,” he said, smoothing it away with the hand that was on her neck.
“Maybe you should have slept somewhere else, then,” she said.
She jerked her head, but his hand returned to her neck. His thumb ran smooth circles over it.
“And miss out on this fun?”
She swore his erection grew even harder beneath her. She’d never experienced a conflict of emotions quite this severe. She bit her tongue to keep from whimpering at the thought of him. The hand that held her ribs had loosened as well. And his fingers were now dragging small zigzagging patterns under her breasts and along her stomach. Her eyes fluttered at the featherlight touches he left along her delicate skin. It was the most inebriating feeling. She wondered what it would feel like if they were just a bit lower…
Draco shifted his hips beneath her, and she nearly moaned. The hand along her neck had flattened and was now making its way down her chest under the jumper. She couldn’t focus on anything. His hands were so large. So rough and smooth at the same time. And they were so warm. Why was he so warm? His bare chest against her back felt even warmer.
“Loo,” she said, breaking herself out of the lust-induced fog. “The loo, please.”
Draco exhaled against her ear in a frustrated sigh.
“You’re spoiling my fun, Granger.”
He released her, and she shot out of his hold and tried to cover her exposed bum on the way out of bed. He lazily reached for his wand on the other side of the bed, and her watch vanished from the nightstand. She sent him a glare, but he returned it with a wink. He reached for his glasses and sat up in the bed. Her eyes lingered over his naked torso and saw dozens of scars marring his perfectly sculpted flesh. She wanted to trace her fingers over the raised pink flesh. There were so many of them that cut across him.
“Sixth year,” she whispered.
“A gift from Potter,” he snorted.
His eyes began to trace their way down her body as she stood at the foot of the bed. The jumper suddenly felt three sizes smaller as he lingered on her bare legs. His expression darkened exponentially, and she felt herself bloom with a blush.
“Through there,” he said, motioning to the door behind her.
She darted to the door.
“And Granger?”
She turned to look at him as she held the door open.
“I’ve already hidden all the sharp and dangerous items. So be a good girl, yeah?”
She glared before turning and locking the door behind her.