A/N: This is the final chapter! Thanks to everyone who had been enjoying this story and leaving reviews - even those who don't review, thanks for reading!

I know last chapter had a lot of people shook, and I'll keep this in mind for future stories and try to properly warn ahead. For those of you who had a very strong reaction and will be utterly disappointed if this results in a happy ending, feel free to stop reading here. Go ahead and go back to chapter 9, and insert Hermione came to meet him at the station, blah, blah, blah.

If you still do wish to continue to read and leave a character assassination or call this just some smut with no development, by all means, that is your right. But like… go do something else with your weekend.

"I was with Ron. When he was here for Christmas."

He lifted his fingers from her body, feeling the cold air between them.

She shook.

"You said you wouldn't," he whispered absently. "Before… when I asked you if you were going back to him once you—"

And a cold stab pierced his chest.

"Did you come with him?" he asked, voice tight.

She turned over, eyes red and bright, tears falling down her face. "No. No, Draco." She sat up, sniffling. "No, not with Ron—"

He didn't want to hear his name. Not when she was naked next to him.

He pulled back, rolled off the bed, faced away from her, and said, "Put your clothes on."

"Draco—"

"Don't be naked," he said, shaking his head. "I think we're done… being naked."

She crawled off the bed while he kept his eyes on the floor. Once she had dragged her dress – the date dress – back over her torso, she turned to face him.

"You were just going to… what?" he asked. "Pretend it never happened? Continue to fuck me. Hope you come, and then what?"

She opened her mouth, squeaking nothing in response, and he started grabbing his clothes too.

"Draco—"

"I thought," he cut her off, tossing his shirt over his shoulder, "we said we weren't…." He felt sharp pinpricks against his eyes. "You asked me not to sleep with other people! But that didn't apply to you?"

She was holding her bra and knickers, crumpling them in her hand. "I made a mistake—"

"THE FUCK YOU DID!" He laughed, shoving a hand through his hair. He started pulling his trousers back on.

"I know. I know, and it was stupid of me—"

"You're Hermione Granger. Nothing is stupid of you—"

"Well, this was!"

"So, what?" He spun on her. "You're back with Weasley again and I'm… what? A footnote?"

"No, no, no." She moved from her side of the bed, darting toward him. "We're not together—"

"Oh, of course," Draco hissed. "He couldn't make you come, so you're done with him now."

"Draco, stop—" she sobbed, voice wet and tired.

"Time to move on to the next bloke." He snatched up his shoes and tie, and bolted for the door.

"No! Draco, no. I only want you—"

He stopped and turned in the doorway. "That's funny. I've heard that before."

He slammed the door on her crying eyes, and threw his shoes into a suit of armor, listening to the crashing as he stormed back to the dormitories.

Draco lay in his bed the next morning, skipping breakfast and wallowing.

He didn't quite comprehend how she could say she loved him. They had something great, yeah, but to love him and still want to sleep with other people?

He supposed there were some relationships like that – Blaise had had his fair share – but that wasn't what Draco wanted with her. And she'd known that when he left for Christmas.

Hadn't she?

He squinted at the ceiling.

Yes, she'd known.

I only want to be with you.

Pretty fucking self-explanatory.

He'd helped her rediscover her sex drive, and she'd broken his heart. A fair trade.

Blaise came back from breakfast and stood next to his bedpost.

"Granger is at the entrance wall. She wants to see you."

Draco almost sprang out of bed. Fuck, he hated himself.

"I'm not interested."

Blaise sighed. "She said you'd say that. She looks awful though. You should probably see her at least."

Draco stared at his green canopy and said, "She fucked Ron Weasley over Christmas."

Blaise was quiet for a moment. And Draco waited for him to roll his eyes and tell him to get over it.

Footsteps, and Blaise was leaving.

Good. He wanted to be alone.

"THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, GRANGER?"

Draco smiled for the first time in twelve hours.

He skipped breakfast on Monday morning. When he headed to Advanced Herbology with the Ravenclaws, she was standing outside the greenhouses, shuffling from foot to foot.

She did look awful.

Good.

She opened her mouth to stop him, and he pressed past her, entering the greenhouse alongside Mayberry and Theo.

It continued like that for the rest of the week. She stalked him around the corridors and he waited for her to take the hint.

On Friday, he received an unaddressed envelope on his plate at breakfast. He tore it open, and found neat scrawl flourishing across a thick page.

Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not, conscience is born of love?

He blinked down at it, feeling her eyes on him across the Great Hall. He was moments from setting it on fire and leaving without a glance in her direction. But this was his move. The hours researching the poem. The mornings of scratching the words into perfect lines for her.

If she had torn up one of his letters, it would have killed him.

So, he did nothing. He left it on his plate, and exited, heading to class.

During Potions that day, he'd overflowed his cauldron and botched his sample for Slughorn. He was still cleaning up when class ended, hurrying to vanish the slime as his classmates filed out. He had just run the cleaning charms on his cauldron when the heavy door shut. He turned to find her leaning against it, looking small.

"I have to get to class," he said.

"You don't have a class."

"Then I have to get to… not here."

He packed up his bag, returned the ingredients to the cupboard, and faced her. She hadn't moved.

"I just need two minutes," she whispered. "Two minutes and then I'm done. You won't have to speak to me ever again."

"Promise?" he hissed, and she flinched.

She took a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I betrayed your trust, and I'm sorry."

He scowled at her. "Is that it?"

She blushed and looked down. "I… I misunderstood my feelings for you. It's very clear to me now that I am in l-love with you"—she swallowed—"and that sleeping with another person was—"

"Your ex," he corrected her.

"What?"

"Not just another person." He shrugged. "Your ex."

She stared at him and nodded. "Right." She clasped her hands together and said, "I made a mistake that I thought was right in the moment. I don't want to be with Ron. I didn't then and I don't now. He was an experiment that seemed necessary."

"An experiment. Like me." Draco shook his head at her.

"You weren't the experiment, Draco. What we were doing together was."

He frowned and looked over her shoulder. "Are these two minutes up yet?"

She pressed her lips together. "So, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I know what I want. I want a monogamous relationship. And I want one with you. And I don't expect you to want that any more. But I wanted to be clear."

He drilled a hole into the wall behind her, refusing to look at her.

She looked away and turned to let herself out.

And she'd be gone then. He'd have to seek her out. He'd have to swallow his pride if he ever wanted to see her again. And did he want to?

Something desperate gripped his ribs and he snarled, "You don't know how to be monogamous, Granger."

She stopped, hand on the doorknob, and turned back to him. He advanced.

"You've been sleeping around for months, fucking everything that walks – boy or girl – just to get yourself off—"

"'Everything that walks?'" she simmered. "I've had clear, no-strings-attached arrangements with every one of them but you." She pointed at him. "The goal for those relationships was not monogamy."

"And how many partners have you had on this quest for sexual liberation?" he hissed.

"How many have you?" she shot back. "How many has Blaise?" She stepped into him and said, "I'm sure you've never fucked someone, 'just to get off."

"Not recently, that's for fucking sure," he spat. "The end goal in all of our experiments together was to get you off—"

"Oh, so sorry I inconvenienced your martyrdom by sucking you off, Malfoy." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, now only an arm's length away. "I'm sure you suffered through every orgasm—"

"Oh, fuck off, Granger—"

"I guess I'll have to from now on," she growled.

"You bet you will. I wouldn't touch Ron Weasley's whore with a ten-foot—"

Smack!

His face snapped to the side, and she snarled at him, teeth flashing, ready to spit something back at him.

He grabbed her face and dragged her to him.

And it was like sinking back into a tar pit he'd been trying to claw his way out of.

She moaned against his lips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He dragged her hips to him, pressing bruises against the bone, listening to her squeak against him.

She bit down on his tongue, and he growled, shoving her back against the classroom wall. He grabbed her jaw, holding her still while he plundered her mouth, pressing her head hard into the stone. She clawed at his shoulders, and reached for his belt.

She jerked his trousers open and he ground against her hand, body remembering her.

Sucking hot kisses down her jaw to her neck, he bit and scraped the skin, making sure she'd be covered with him tomorrow.

She twisted her head and bit down on his ear. He gasped at the pain coupled with the feeling of her palm on him again.

"Fuck, I hate you," he groaned into her hair. She let go of him, reached under her skirt, and started rolling down her knickers.

He spun her, her legs twisted in the lace, and pressed her against the stone, pulling her hips back to him, and flipping her skirt up.

He pushed into her, and she groaned, leaning her head forward on the wall. He pressed his palms on top of her hands, sticking her to the wall, and rolled his hips, feeling her tremble around him.

He grabbed her waist, pounding forward and listening to his skin smack into her ass, each thrust punctuated with a tiny moan from her.

Clawing at her hair, he fisted a chunk of it to turn her head to the side, watching as she bit down on her lip, pressing her eyes closed.

"You like that, Granger? You like my cock filling you up?"

She hummed around her bitten lip.

"I'm gonna fuck you into this wall, and then come in your mouth."

She grunted, and he pressed his teeth into her neck, sucking and biting while his hands pulled her ass against him. He thrust deep, feeling her slick walls part for him. She groaned and turned her head back to the wall.

She whimpered, and his hands jumped up to her tits, ripping at her school shirt to dig inside. He pulled at her nipples, rolling them and squeezing the skin.

"Ah," she gasped. "Draco..."

Her walls squeezed his cock, and he pulled her back, impaling her over and over, rutting into her.

He felt a fluttering, her muscles milking him, and she gasped, holding her breath in, eyes squeezing shut.

He paused inside of her, hips stuttering and watching her face in horror, breathing hard on her neck. She squeezed him again.

"Don't you dare come, Granger," he hissed. "Not like this."

"God! Oh, god," she groaned, body tensing, and he thrust into her again, listening to her cry out.

"Don't you fucking dare."

He'd already made up his mind to fuck her hard, pound her fast, and finish before she had a chance to ruin this... to ruin his first orgasm with her.

But then he pressed inside again, grabbing her hips. And she screamed. Scratching at the wall, lungs choking for air, and best of all, contracting around his cock with such delicious pressure, he could do nothing but shudder and watch.

She sucked in air, throat clicking with the need. Her body still tense between his hips and the wall.

Fuck.

Fuck. He'd fucked her into a wall instead of...

There should have been a bed. It should have been—

She shivered around him again, her cunt squeezing lightly as she sighed, eyes still closed.

He panted against her neck, watching as her fingers uncurled, and her mouth relaxed.

There was warmth pooling between them, spilling over his cock and gathering where they were still connected.

He pulled out of her, slowly, and she moaned. When he didn't push back in, she looked at him over her shoulder and said, "Did you...?"

She looked down, seeing him still hard and red, and she swallowed, turning around and starting to fall to her knees.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her up, kissing her mouth.

She opened to him instantly, pliant and willing for him to want her again. He held her face in his hand, fingers on her jaw, and caught every breath from her lips.

She reached between them and wrapped her hand around him, stroking him gently before he stopped her, and turned them around to one of the desks at the back of the room. Picking her up by her ribs and dropping her on the flat table, he moved his lips to her neck and stepped between her legs.

She caught on quickly, scooting to the edge, wrapping her legs around his waist, and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. He lined up with her again and pushed into her dripping heat. She groaned.

"Fuck," he whispered, sinking into her fully, pressing his lips to her ear.

She tightened her knees around him, and pulled his shirt from his trousers, hands spreading across his stomach and wrapping up around his back.

He huffed against her, and kissed the skin below her earlobe while his hands held her hips, anchoring himself on her.

She tilted her head back, letting him lave at her, and scratched at his abdomen. His cock swelled.

As she sighed, he ran his hands down from her hips, over her rucked up skirt and to the tops of her thighs, quivering around him. He ran his fingers up and down, creeping closer to where they were joined, and he felt her shiver.

He spread his hands, covering the tops of her thighs, and dipped his thumbs to open her, swiping across her clit one at a time, over and over, rolling like waves.

"Oh," she gasped. She hummed a moan into his neck. "I don't know…"

"Shh…"

Her fingers slid up to his shoulders, holding on while he rocked into her, sweeping over her clit. He heard her breathing quicken, stuttering staccato over his heaving.

He kept one thumb at her clit, and moved his other hand to her hip, holding her in place while he pumped into her faster, snapping his hips into her. He pulled back from her neck and kissed her mouth softly, dipping his tongue into her when her jaw went slack.

He started figure-eights on her clit, and she wept a strangled groan into his mouth, breathing harshly against his lips.

"Draco, I…" She kissed him. "I'm not sure."

"Don't worry about it," he whispered to her.

She hummed against his lips, and then the fluttering started again. He gripped her tighter, and held off on his own climax as she bit down on her lip and closed her eyes.

He thumbed at her, flicking and rubbing and pressing harder and her hips began to snap back, meeting his.

"Oh, my… Draco—"

He moved his free hand to her jaw, holding her face, and she opened her hazy eyes, mouth dropping open.

She squeezed him and he almost came.

He looked into her eyes, panting hot air on her face, and when she ran her hands up into his hair, holding him in front of her, she opened her lips—

"I lo—"

"Don't," he stopped her, pressing his hot mouth against her, lips open. He groaned, beginning to finish.

Suddenly she was gasping, squeaking, curling her fingers in his hair, and holding him tight inside of her. Her thighs clamped down around him, and he just let go, thrusting deep into her and coming while her walls fluttered and squeezed and throbbed.

His legs shook as he held still inside of her, loving every time her cunt fluttered, like it was making room for him forever.

She took a shaking, sobbing breath, and pressed a kiss against his jaw.

"Don't leave me like this, please. Just stay a moment," she whispered.

Why would he leave? When she felt like this?

And it crashed on him like cold water. Weasley.

She clutched his shoulders, panting, and he tried to shake it off. Tried to just live there in that moment.

"Our first orgasm together," he muttered. "I'll stay a bit."

She held her breath and whispered, "Not our first."

He frowned and said, "What does that mean?"

She shuddered, and not the good kind. "I didn't want to tell you. I thought—thought you wouldn't want to see me anymore if—"

"What are you talking about?" He pulled his face from her neck and looked at her.

She swallowed. "I wasn't by myself. I lied."

"You're making a habit of that," he deadpanned.

"In the Astronomy Tower," she said, closing her eyes not to look at him. "I... It was so perfect. Everything was right, and you were incredible..."

Draco blinked at her, heart pounding.

"And it happened. Right before you finished, I... I had an orgasm. It was small, and I didn't know what was happening... but I know I had one." She paused and nodded to where her legs were still wrapped around his hips. "And now I really know." A small laugh.

He stepped back, forcing her legs off of him. Her hands slid from his shoulders.

He stared at her, taking in her wild hair and rumpled shirt. Her legs still hanging open, thighs begging him to come back to her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He felt an emptiness in his gut, like he'd just missed the Snitch at the last moment.

"I was confused. I'm sorry. It didn't make sense." Her eyes started to water.

"It didn't make sense that you could have an orgasm with me?"

"No, no." She reached for him, dragging him close again by his shirt. "Just that... it was simple. There were no toys, no characters. It was just you." She ducked her head, resting on his shoulder. "All I needed was you."

He frowned at her knees. "So, your first reaction was to ditch me, and run back to Weasley?"

"I was scared. And confused. I knew in my heart what it was… I knew that I had feelings for you. I've looked it up. It might be demi-sexual. It's this kind of sexuality—"

"Don't teach me, Granger. It's not my kink."

"Right, sorry." She pressed her lips together, and he noticed that her hands were still wrapped around his shirt, as if begging him to stay. "I'm sorry I didn't show up at the platform. I… I wasn't sure you'd still want me once I could orgasm."

He blinked, remembering having a similar thought.

"It wasn't my intention to sleep with him," she continued, eyes wide and asking him something. "I didn't plan it. He started to flirt and I thought, maybe I'm cured. Maybe it's not because I love someone who's only wanted sex from me."

Draco stepped back. Her fingers came with him before remembering to let go of his shirt.

"I didn't…" he started. "It wasn't just sex. I said it." He pushed his hands through his hair. "I said, 'I only want to be with you!'"

"Until when?" she sobbed, shrugging. "Until I come? Until graduation?"

"No—"

"'Being with me' only sexually?"

"Yes. And no." He shook his shoulders out. "That's not how I meant it."

She pressed her knees together, and it made her look small. "That's not how I meant it either. But I wasn't sure."

He shook his head, lost for words.

"Are you going on the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow?" she asked.

He stared at her abrupt change of topic. "I haven't decided."

"If you do," she said, slipping off the desk, "and if you have any inclination to see me, I'll be at The Three Broomsticks. We could... talk some more. Or not talk, if that's what you want. But either way, I'll be there with a seat for you."

Being with her. She meant forever. She meant monogamy. And he… wasn't sure anymore.

"I can't promise anything," he said, looking down at his rumpled trousers.

"I'll wait."

She didn't say when. She just said she'd be there. Waiting.

So, when two in the afternoon rolled around, Draco was still deciding if he wanted to go. Part of him wanted to stand her up, like she'd done to him at the train platform.

But another part of him had thought about things all night, and now that part of him had more questions.

He sat in the common room, pretending to read when Blaise tumbled down the stairs on his way out. He stopped and plopped down across from him.

"Are you gonna forgive her?"

"No," Draco grumbled.

"Are you through with her?"

"…No." He rubbed at his eyes, moaning into his hands. "Merlin. You did this to me on purpose, didn't you? Created interest, caught my attention. And then you forced me to confess my feelings for her. All to torture me."

"Yes, actually," Blaise responded glibly.

Draco peeked at him. "I was joking."

"I wasn't." Blaise studied his fingernails and sighed. "I did purposefully bring her into your orbit. And I did push your buttons when I could, because you're a stubborn prick who usually can't see what's right in front of your face." He shrugged. "I thought you'd be good for each other."

"Why?"

Blaise sniffed. "You like puzzles. And she fancied you."

Draco felt his cheeks heat. "What? When? Now, you mean?"

"No. Before. I could tell."

Draco stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say," Blaise started, "it's not the best feeling in the world to be chatting up a bird and watch her eyes wandering over to your best bloke." He grimaced. "She fancied you. And I knew you fancied her."

Draco stared at the fire, searching for the right words. "So… that's why you and..." What was that kid's name! "…your friend were always talking about her?"

"To taunt you, yes." Blaise cocked his head. "My friend? Who?"

"The... scrappy bloke. Seventh year."

"My friend? I thought he was your friend?"

"No. He's always with you. I can never remember his name."

"Me neither," Blaise said.

"Seriously?"

"I wanna say Milwaukee?"

Draco snapped his fingers. "Yes, it starts with an 'M,' doesn't it?"

"Absolutely."

"Mullholland?"

"Muffler?"

"Marriott?"

"Muppet! It's Muppet!"

"Is it?"

"Hm. Now I'm not sure."

He arrived at The Three Broomsticks just before 4PM. She sat at corner table with a white knit hat and white knit mittens, sipping at a Butterbeer. The drink was over half drunk and probably not her first. Her fingers played with the rim, gathering the left-over foam.

Draco thought he should leave. Should just disappear and never speak to her again.

His feet brought him closer, and she looked up at the movement, rejection etched across her face like this wasn't the first time she'd craned her neck to look for him. When she saw him, she blinked and quickly tore off her white hat, scratching at her scalp.

"Hi," she said, on the verge of standing, but Draco sat before she could force a friendly hug onto him.

"Granger," he greeted her. He nodded at Rosemerta, asking for a Firewhisky. She glared at him, and he frowned, wondering what he did now.

"Did you do any shopping today?" Granger asked. She fiddled with one of the bar napkins, tearing it into pieces.

"No, I…"

I came into Hogsmeade only for this.

He cleared his throat. "Just some browsing." He looked past her shoulder.

Rosemerta slammed down the Firewhisky, still glaring at him, and said, "Busy day, Malfoy?"

Granger blushed and shook her head at the barmaid.

Draco realized that it looked like Granger had been stood up for the past several hours. He sneered at the barmaid, biting his tongue.

"Just prioritizing, Rosemerta."

She scoffed, about to shout at him, but Granger said, "Thank you, Rosemerta," rather forcefully. The busty wench stomped away.

Draco took a burning gulp of his Firewhisky, and turned his eyes back on Granger.

"How are your classes so far?" she asked.

He sighed. He didn't want to do small talk with her. Not when he knew about her parents and about her childhood dream of becoming a dental hygienist. Not when he knew what she tasted like, how tight she could squeeze him, and what her breath sounded like when she came.

He frowned at the table. She opened her mouth to ask another asinine question, and he stopped her before she could.

"I had a very interesting conversation with Blaise this morning."

She closed her mouth slowly, and looked down at her Butterbeer. "And what was that?"

"He said you fancied me. Before."

Her shoulders tensed and she crossed her arms. "What of it?"

He squinted at her. "'What of it?'"

"Yes," she said. "I thought you were very handsome. I still do. Is that important?"

He gaped at her, then closed his mouth and asked, "Then why did I have to seek you out?"

She raised a brow. "I had no reason to believe you would want to begin a sexual relationship with me. That's why I was so surprised when you came to see me in the library." She brushed her hair over her ear and said, "Why is this important to you?"

He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, "But what about Theo and Blaise, and even fucking Marzipan! You had no trouble approaching them to help you with your little problem?"

"Who?" She wrinkled her brow.

"Don't change the subject," he hissed. "How was I different? Why didn't you ask me if I fancied a romp?"

"Oh, please, Draco. Because you would have laughed at me." She rolled her eyes. "Blaise and Theo were much more malleable. When I flirted with them, they flirted back. But you..." She looked away from him. "We barely looked at each other, much less flirted."

"And what about Marsala? Did you honestly think that little twerp could get you off?"

"Who?"

"Manicotti?"

"Are you hungry? Do we need to order you some food?"

"That scruffy bloke always hanging around Blaise. It starts with an 'M.'"

She scrunched her nose in a particularly endearing way and said, "Do you mean Davidson?"

He stared at her. "...No. It's Marlboro, or something."

"Sandy-haired? Seventh year? Always sitting next to you at meals?"

"Davidson doesn't seem right..."

"His name is David Davidson. You couldn't remember that?"

He arched a brow. "Clearly, he is of no importance to me."

She grinned and took a sip of her drink. He watched her swallow, following the line of her throat, love bites from his teeth scattered over her neck.

She caught him staring and he looked away, counting the bar stools.

They were quiet for a moment before he asked, "Do you promise me that you didn't come with Weasley?"

"I promise," he heard her say softly. He nodded.

"Did you fake it?"

"No." He looked at her when she didn't elaborate. She was staring out the window. She pressed her lips together and said, "It was... very quick. Especially compared to what I'm used to." She smirked. "He asked me if I came, and I just laughed and said, 'Of course not.'" She chuckled. "Then he started in on me. Said I should see a specialist. Said I should get a professional's opinion on why I can't have an orgasm. And I said, 'Oh I can. Just not with you.'"

A smile spread across his lips. The idea that Ron Weasley was out there somewhere, wondering who had been fucking his girlfriend silly, was absolutely delicious.

She was staring at his lips, and quickly looked away.

"Did he know where to touch you?" he asked, voice low.

Her eyes flipped to him, and he lowered his lids, hand propping his head up lazily.

"No."

"Does he know about the spot behind your knees?" Draco crooned.

She shook her head and said, "No. He doesn't."

"Did he taste you? Over Christmas? Was his head between your thighs?"

"No."

"Did he touch your breasts like you like? Rub your nipples, kiss the soft skin beneath and tease you into soft circles?"

"No."

He slouched down in his chair, adjusting his trousers and said, "Have you ever tied him up? Ridden his face like a saddle?"

Her eyes were dark when she said, "No, Draco."

"Did he flip you over and press you into the bed, sliding into you from behind? Did he get to watch your cunt fill up with him over and over?"

"No," she breathed.

"Does he know how much you like your hair pulled? How you like to kiss at the end, right before it's over? How you like to give orders, begging for it faster and harder?"

"No."

He watched her chest rise and fall, eyes on him, but shifting her hips so slightly.

"Good," he said, smirking at her.

"There's a bedroom upstairs." Rosemerta startled them both, appearing at their table with a pitcher. "Please don't start unbuttoning at the table."

Granger flushed bright red and said, "Sorry. Thank you. No." She kept her eyes on the table until Rosemerta walked away.

Draco snickered, and then shook his head at how pretty Granger looked like this.

"I don't forgive you," he said. She looked up, eyes wide. Then nodded, looking down. "And I don't forget either. I don't know if I trust you when you say you want to be monogamous."

"I understand." She bit her lip. "I want to make it up to you. If you'll let me. I want to try."

He watched her lashes flutter as her eyes roved over him. "How?"

"However you want," she whispered darkly. And his already aroused cock twitched.

He pressed his lips together and looked over her shoulder, thinking of the bedroom upstairs.

"It's... um... getting dark," she began. "Almost dusk." She looked over at him under dark lashes, like he was supposed to know what she was saying. "We'll need to start heading back soon, but I think the Quidditch Pitch is on the way, isn't it?"

He blinked at her, thinking of that day all those weeks ago when he'd told her one of his fantasies. Quidditch Pitch at dusk.

"We... we better get going," he choked.

"Oh, god! Oh, my god!"

She straddled him in the grass, her dress and knickers pushed to the side, and the top of her dress pulled down to bare her breasts to the cool air, fighting the Warming Charm she'd cast.

His hands held her waist as she rode him.

"I was cheering for you from the Gryffindor stands," she moaned into the mist. "I was so happy you caught the Snitch, Draco. You deserve it."

He almost laughed at her roleplay, but then his cock swelled inside of her.

"You flew so well," she hummed, hips jumping against his, and he reached up to thumb at her breasts. "Oh, god. It was amazing. That dive you took at the end. I was so worried about you, but I knew you'd catch it." She brought her hands down to his chest to lean on him. "Catch the Snitch. Best Seeker Slytherin has ever seen."

She rocked into him, riding him.

"Only Slytherin?" he groaned.

"Best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen," she corrected, beginning to bounce on him. "When that Bludger almost hit you, I screamed." She moaned, and he gripped her hips, dragging her down on his cock. "But you were so good. The best flyer. You pulled that... Russian Twist out of nowhere."

"The fuck are you talking about, Granger?"

"I have no clue," she whispered down at him. "Am I doing it right?"

He laughed and turned them until her hair splayed out over the grass, the last bit of sunlight brushing across her breasts.

"Yes, Slytherin! Yes!" she screamed, and he shut her up with his mouth.

He pulled back and stared down at her, thrusting fast. "Tell me more about how I'm the best."

"So talented, Draco. None of the professional teams deserve you," she groaned, and he watched her breasts bounce with every push of his hips. "The best flyer in Hogwarts history."

"Better than Potter?" he gasped against her temple.

"Yes! Yes!"

"Say it."

"Better than Harry. You're so much better. You could out-fly him with your eyes closed."

And it was the strangest thing. He came.

They fell into a strange pattern. He'd resolve to be done with her every Monday morning, and by Tuesday he was fucking her in the storage closet, in the Prefect's bath again, in the Slytherin common room at four in the morning.

She gave him the massage one weekend, conjuring the same fluffy towels, and choosing the oil he liked best. He didn't know what he was supposed to do when she had him turn over and his cock was already hard against his stomach, twitching with every press of her thumbs into his thighs. So, he closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of her naked breasts sliding against his chest, her thighs straddling his hips, her hands tugging lazily at his cock. Her thumbs rubbed over the head, massaging him until he was thick and rock hard, leaking. He finally had to open his eyes and watch her when she slipped him between her lips, her naked body leaning over him, fingers rubbing at his balls and lips pulling tight around him. He came so slowly, like he'd never be empty, and she swallowed every drop of him with her eyes on his.

He started spending time with her in the library. She'd read or take notes, and he'd do the same. Some nights they'd play Exploding Snap in the back, near the Restricted Section.

He broke it off with her just before Valentine's Day.

"I understand," she said, eyes empty, not even fighting him.

He hadn't wanted the stress of defining them before the holiday. He'd also needed to send back the necklace with the otter charm he'd found for her. It was stupid and unnecessary and they weren't even together and they never were.

And he didn't trust her anyways.

He watched her at breakfast. Watched her push her eggs around and smile at Ginny Weasley before looking away. Watched her head to Hogsmeade with a few people looking grey.

In classes on Monday, Flitwick decided to introduce them to the Patronus Charm. He rolled his eyes and tried not to watch Granger struggle to produce her otter a few times.

While the others were casting, Flitwick pulled him aside and told him a strong happy memory would do. He laughed, and as promised, thought of Hermione Granger's tits. More specifically, Hermione Granger's tits on the bed next to him, pressing against his arm as it wrapped around her waist.

A wisp poured from his wand, shocking the two of them. Flitwick danced up and down like his most difficult student had finally learned Wingardium Leviosa. Draco tried again, and groaned when a specter drifted from his wand that looked suspiciously otter-like, swimming towards her.

"Bollocks."

She blushed, and looked away, focusing on her own charm with a smile on her lips.

He kissed her senseless that afternoon, and they began again.

After a few weeks, he got brave enough to ask if he could try being the Dom. She hesitated.

"Are you... Do you want to punish me? Is that why?"

He watched her throat bob and stepped into her. "Granger, the only thing I want to punish you for is being a swotty little know-it-all who bested me in classes for the past eight years."

She fought the smile creeping up into her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, sir."

He had just finished dressing, so getting out of everything again took him a minute.

A week later, he had her on the bed, arms stretched tight above her head, ankles pulled apart and tied to the bedposts. He spent almost an hour with his head between her legs, making her come twice, screaming and writhing and begging him to stop, but she hadn't said "yellow" or "red" once.

She was halfway to her third orgasm when he finally pushed his fingers inside of her. She groaned and bucked her hips to him. He threatened to silence her if she couldn't keep it down, but he knew he would never. The sounds she made. The gasping and growling. The way she'd warn him before she came, like he was supposed to stop or pull away or wipe his face and leave.

He pressed into the muscles of her thighs, with his other hand, relaxing the tremors and dragging his fingernails over her skin. His tongue lapped at her, circling her clit and spelling his name into her, marking her for his.

She clenched his fingers and groaned. He moved slowly within her, dragging against her walls on each stroke. She babbled, words falling from her about how he should stop, how she was ready for him, how good this was, how perfect he was, how much she wanted him.

Her hips shook against his face, and her back arched. Moisture flooded his fingers and he swiped his tongue down to lap at her. She shuddered, gasping, groaning, begging, and he pumped his fingers faster, listening to her moan his name and beg him to stop.

Her head thrashed and her breath rattled, her thighs fighting the restraints.

"Just one more," he hummed against her clit. She yelped. "One more and then we'll take a break." Her thighs trembled as he pressed his fingers against the spot inside of her that she liked. "Be a good girl, Granger."

Her back arched off the bed and she stuttered syllables about being good and yes sir and anything for you. She screamed, shaking, and announced it to him that she was coming, like it surprised her. And he sucked at her clit as she tightened around his fingers.

He gave her thirty seconds to catch her breath before he slid up her body and slipped inside of her without releasing her bonds. The corners of her lips curled upwards as she sleepily stared at him. Her wrists pulled at the cuffs and her knees tried to hug him, but just cupped her breasts and thrust into her. She closed her eyes, smiling, and let him rock her into the bed. She was so overwhelmingly wet, it was like lathering himself with lube.

He started sucking at her nipples, and she bit her lip.

"Do you have one more, Granger?"

Her eyes slid open and she bunched her brows together. "What?"

"One more time," he mumbled against her breast, letting one hand dive between them to touch her.

Her eyes widened and her mouth pulled into a gasp. "N-no. You don't have to—"

"One more, Granger. Won't stop until you give me one more."

Her eyes rolled back, and her arms tugged against the restraints. He sat up, kneeling in front of her, and pulled her hips onto his thighs. Shallow thrusts from this position, but he had both hands to touch her.

He watched her skin pebble, her chest heave for air.

It was remarkably easier to hold on and not come too quickly now. Maybe it was the familiarity with her. Maybe it was the absence of anxiety that she wouldn't come. Maybe it was that the only thing he wanted in the entire universe was to watch her come apart underneath him for the rest of his life.

"I c- I can't, Draco. Please..."

She would do this sometimes: try to tell him she wasn't capable of coming, try to tell him he should just finish without her.

He didn't let her get away with it anymore.

Draco leaned back down, bringing his chest to hers again, and bent to swallow her gasps as his hips pounded into her, shaking the bed.

Her lips opened for him, and he swept his tongue inside, a slow pace in contrast to his hips. He ran a hand down her side, smoothing over her skin and tweaking her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple in slow even circles. She groaned into his mouth.

She started shaking her head. "Draco... I can't... Please."

He held her face with one hand, the other pinching at her hard nipple, his hips pumping quickly as his balls tightened, begging him to just shoot into her.

He forced her to look at him and breathed against her lips, "I love you."

She froze, swallowing, and only started breathing again once his mouth was on hers. She kissed him back, and he felt her hips jumping up to meet him. She squeezed him once, and he almost lost it. His tongue dove into her, fighting hers, and his hand squeezed her breast every time her walls fluttered. She pulled her mouth away and closed her eyes, but he grabbed her face and pressed their foreheads together.

She met his eyes as the pressure around him increased, and she parted her lips silently. Squeezing him for hours, rolling waves around him, like she'd never let go. He couldn't thrust anymore so he pushed in deep, and let her fist him. He came like that, just buried in her, lips hovering over hers and her body holding him inside of her.

When they'd caught their breaths, and he'd released her arms and legs, she tried to give him an out.

"I know you only said it in the moment. So, don't feel uncomfortable." She tossed her hair up with her back to him. "We can forget you said it."

She zipped her dress up – another dress – and smiled before leaving the Room of Requirement before him.

He stared at the fire until it dwindled to embers.

He kept saying it.

Always when she was right on the edge, and sometimes when her mouth was sucking at his cock.

She'd look at him from her place between his knees, eyes blinking up at him, and then lick him slowly from base to tip.

Or he'd say it when she was thrashing under him, face squeezed tight as he tortured her clit. Just a whisper she barely picked up on, but then suddenly her legs would squeeze and she'd scream his name.

Once while she straddled him, rocking slowly over him, sitting tall and touching her breasts with her eyes closed. He'd said it and her eyes had opened, and she'd swallowed down a response, bending to kiss him and rolling her hips.

The one year anniversary of the Final Battle was approaching. Anyone who fought on the winning side was invited to attend a feast at Hogwarts, and he could feel the date creeping closer like a heavy reminder of his sins.

Also… Potter and Weasley.

"I was thinking," she said, as they walked through the corridor the weekend before, letting their knuckles drift towards each other, "that I will tell Harry and Ron that I'm seeing someone."

His fingers twitched. "Really."

"Yes. That way there won't be any misunderstandings with Ron while he's here."

"And if they ask who?"

"It's none of their business." She pushed her hair over her shoulder, and turned to him, stopping. "Unless you think it should be. I could tell them. About you."

He stopped and faced her. "You want to tell Potter and Weasley you've been sleeping with me for the past six months? We're supposed to remember the war, not start another one."

She grinned at her shoes and said, "What do you want me to do?"

"What do you want?"

"What I want hasn't changed," she said.

A monogamous relationship. With him. Isn't that what they already had?

"My mother will be here this weekend," he said shuffling his feet.

She blinked. "Oh, so probably not a good time for... drama. I won't mention anything. I'll just reject Ron if he tries to start something—"

"I'd like for you to meet my mother."

She stared at him dumbly. "I've met her."

"Right." He scratched his jaw. "But as my..." He trailed off, finding no words that were suitable. Her eyes were bright and her breath came in short puffs. He felt a joyful bubbling in his chest. "And actually, yeah, tell Weasel you're seeing someone."

"Draco—"

"And while you're at it, tell Potter you think I'm better at Quidditch than he is. If you don't feel comfortable, I'd be happy to show him the memory of it that I keep in my Pensieve—"

"Draco." She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "As your what? How will you introduce me to your mother?"

He kicked at the floor. "I mean, I'm sure 'the girl I've been fucking' will go over just as wonderfully as 'my girlfriend,' so take your pick, I guess."

She smiled and wrapped herself around him. They stood just like that, foreheads pressed together, her hand over his chest. He felt her heartbeat from her fingertips.

He'd have to thank Blaise for this somehow, someday. He tilted his head to kiss her softly when a squeak from behind them paused him.

He turned to find an older Gryffindor girl, looking between them with her jaw open.

"Omigod!" she squealed. "Are you two together! That's so sweet! Are you telling people? Can I tell people?"

"Er, maybe next week?"

"Okay! I love it! Hermione, this is great! You guys are precious!"

The girl scuttled away.

"Who was that?" Draco asked.

"No idea. I think her name starts with a 'G' or something."

She shrugged, and took his hand.