Author's Note: All previous chapters have been proofread and edited, so if you want to do a re-read, now is the time before you dive into this story. I made some changes to the plot, to make things fit.

Thank you so much to everyone who read, followed, reviewed, and favorited Cupere. You have made this very enjoyable to write, and have been with me through some major life changes since the story began. What started out as a simple lust potion oneshot became something much greater, and I'm glad it could bring joy and healing to some of you.

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Chapter Sixteen

Songs of the Chapter: Into the Dark - Point North, Waves of Nature - Willow, White Lies - I See Stars, Same Soul - PVRIS, and Bouncy Castle - VUKOVI

x

Draco recoiled from Hermione, feeling as though she'd just struck him.

"What was what?" he cried. "The entire situation, what we did, what I did, what?"

"What was that?!" she screeched, throwing her hands up and then burying her face in her hands for a split second. "I couldn't . . . I didn't want to . . . I don't know why I . . ."

"Granger, calm down! You're hyperventilating." He reached for her, concern twisting his features. She ripped herself away from him.

"What the fuck?" She kept breathing heavily, hugging herself. "What the fuck?"

Draco felt confused and hated himself more than he ever had before. He'd never heard her curse before, so he knew something was seriously wrong. He didn't understand why he'd let himself lose control like that. Why had he -

Her incessant mutterings reached his ears.

"I don't understand. I don't understand why I feel like . . . What the fuck? Why did I do that?"

Draco's eyes widened.

She was panicking because she liked it.

"Granger," he said. "You -"

"Don't talk to me!" she cried. "Don't fucking talk to me."

Draco felt his anger rising. "Calm down! This is what the contracts are for! This is what the safe word is for. Technically, right now we shouldn't be arguing. You need to be in a safe space, with me taking care of you. You can't let yourself stay in this - this headspace that you're in. There are rules, Granger, and when you go against them, I can't keep you safe!"

She glared at him, her fists clenched at her sides. "Not even from you?"

"Not even from me." He glowered down at her. "That. Is. Why. There. Are. Rules."

She snorted in indignation, rage burning in her honey-brown eyes. "Oh, because you simply can't control yourself? Powerful Pureblood wizard, and you can't even control your prick."

The words were spat like poison. Draco had to remind himself that she was in a terrible place right now. She needed to be taken care of, to be embraced and soothed and calmed. This was all wrong. This panic and this anger - it was because she didn't realize that she'd just gone exactly where she was meant to go. She'd gotten the answer to her question. She was submissive.

"Around you?" he said, one hand on his hip and the other dragging anxiously through his messy hair. "No."

She stared at him for a long, long moment. Longer than he felt comfortable with. Every second that passed was dangerous to her mental health and well-being. He took a step toward her, prepared to explain to her again why aftercare was so important, but she stopped him with a hand held up.

"It was only supposed to be one day," she said, her voice hard as flint. She'd completely blocked him out. "So perhaps we should leave it at that, and stop trying to make something out of nothing."

Draco sighed, exasperated. "Granger -"

"Where's Crookshanks?" She put her hands on her hips. "I'd like to leave."

He stared at her, floored. How had they gone from the discussion they'd had, where she'd practically begged him for his help again, to having a row? She sounded like she never wanted to speak to him again. Before the encounter they'd just had, he would have accepted her anger. If they'd tried what they agreed to try, and she'd turned out to not be submissive, then he would gladly have taken his bow and exited her life if that's what she wanted. But he knew for a fact that she had not only not used her safe word at any point, but when he'd attempted to push her away just in case she wanted to stop, she'd refused.

So then what was the problem?

Unless . . .

"Is the potion still in effect somehow?" he asked, horrified at the thought that its effects could last for so long.

She looked alarmed. "What? No!"

"Are you certain?"

She pulled a face of almost pure disgust, which was so out of character for her, that Draco almost felt like she was a completely different witch. "I'm certain. If it was still in effect, we wouldn't have been able to dance at the gala."

"Then what's the problem? Why didn't you use your safe word?"

She glared at him, her mouth half-open as she searched for an answer. "I don't . . ." A scoff. "That's not . . . Look. I would like to leave. Where is Crookshanks?"

She turned to leave. Draco felt the panic clawing its way up his throat. She was leaving and if she did, he just knew it would be the last time he ever spoke to her. If she walked out that door, with what had transpired between them since Valentine's, there would be no going back to the way things were before.

Draco sprang forward, reaching for her arm before she could go too far. The moment his fingers brushed against her elbow, she jerked her arm away and whirled to glower at him.

"No, don't touch me! Where's my -"

"Granger, can't we just -"

"Where's my - stop. Stop, Draco. Just leave me -"

Part of him wanted to let her go to spare himself the mortification. The other part knew that she was just trying to run away, and kept reaching for her. She threw her hands up, her shoulders hunching as though the thought of him touching her were abhorrent.

"The moment it gets tough," Draco hissed, his upper lip curling as he followed on her heels to the Library doors, "the moment things become real, you can't handle it, can you?"

"Where's my cat?" She sounded distraught, like she wasn't even herself anymore. Hermione Granger had left. All that remained was the girl he'd seen lying catatonic on the Drawing Room floor after Bellatrix was finished with her. Either she'd underestimated what it felt like to truly give up all control, or he'd fucked up.

His heart was breaking. He had to fix this.

"You can't leave. Granger -"

"I said I am leaving!" she screamed, her hair starting to look as wild as her eyes. "Where is my cat?!"

"How Gryffindor of you," Draco snapped, sneering. "You're doing Godric proud."

"Where is my cat? I want you to bring Crookshanks to me, and then I am going to leave." She let out a strangled sob as she neared the door. "And I am not going to think about you ever again!"

Draco felt the bubble of agitation swell so large in his chest that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't let her leave. Not like this. Not like this.

"Don't fucking run from this!" he shouted, his voice echoing. "Don't run from me!"

"Don't follow me," she said with a mirthless laugh. "Don't you follow me, Draco Malfoy."

Draco reached her right as her hand was inches away from the handle to the ornate door. He grabbed her wrist and yanked, causing her to spin around to face him. Then, he lunged forward. Her back slammed into the wall and his hands smacked against the stone above her head. He bared his teeth in a feral manner, gazing down at her in a way that he desperately hoped pinned her in place. She merely glared up at him, and then she bared her teeth as well.

"Let me go home."

"You're not leaving."

She narrowed her eyes. He watched them slide past him, to where he knew she'd accidentally left her little purse that she'd been carrying all night by the chair. "I'll accio my wand."

"You won't," he challenged, leaning his head forward a bit. "You'll listen."

She pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring with rage. "You can't control me."

"Except that I can control you. The issue is that you're scared to let me."

She made a series of spluttering noises, nonsensical words that did nothing but prove him right. So he snatched his opening, keeping his hands planted firmly in a way that kept her boxed in.

"You went into the state of mind that is common for a submissive witch. It's normal, Granger, to lose yourself to it. That's the point. And fuck, it's scary. It's terrifying. But that's what the safe word is for if it gets to be too much. And if it's something you can handle, but you're left feeling traumatized afterward, then it's a sign that you either aren't submissive, or you need aftercare."

She looked troubled and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. You're intelligent. You understand exactly what happened."

She turned her face away, appearing even angrier. "What is aftercare?"

"For lack of a better term, it's essentially glorified cuddling. Or whatever you need to feel safe and grounded again." He dipped his head down, catching her gaze and holding it with his own. He spoke in a pointed manner. "The point is to do whatever you need to help you calm down. You choose. Do you hear me? You're in control at that point."

She eyed him, worrying her lower lip. Then, she wrinkled her brow. "You didn't tell me it was going to be like that. You didn't tell me I was going to feel so . . . Lost."

Draco shook his head. "Then that means I didn't do my job correctly. You're supposed to feel unchained, but not lost. You're supposed to know that giving up control is okay because the person who is in control - me, in this instance - is there to make sure you have guidance." He paused to sigh. "You got scared. So what? That's no reason to run."

"You don't understand," she whispered, lowering her head.

"I do understand." He removed one hand from the wall and used his knuckle to push her chin back up. He raised his eyebrows at her. "I understand that you're scared because after everything that I put you through, everything you think you should feel for me, you still liked it. You're submissive to me. And I think it scares you because you thought it was just the potion. Admitting that it wasn't the potion - that it was you who was reacting to me the way you were that day - means admitting that you feel something for me that you think you shouldn't."

As she stared up at him, dumbfounded, Draco tried to figure out where he'd gotten the courage to say something so bold. He hadn't even been Occluding. He'd just been desperate to hold on to her for as long as he could. He was still desperate to keep her.

"I think you've been terrified since the moment you decided you were going to come to me for help," he continued in a quiet tone.

She scowled. "This would be so much easier if you were the old you. If you were the Malfoy who made my life Hell, and not this . . . This person you've become. This person who protects me and asks for permission and consent. This person who has rules, who - who has the ability to control me like this. So, yeah. Yes. I am scared. But it's only because I've never been in that place before, that place where I could say the sort of things I've said to you, and do the sort of things I've done with you."

Draco said nothing, seeing that she was falling apart right before his eyes. He saw tears springing to her eyes, and he watched them falling down her cheeks. Even though he wanted to wipe them away, he refrained. He kept one hand planted firmly on the wall, the other at his side, and listened.

"I did what I wanted," she said, choking on her words. "I did what I liked. I let go with you. Yes, I liked it. I did like it. I didn't use my safe word because I didn't want to. But how am I supposed to reconcile who I've always painted myself to be, with who I am when I'm with you? This would just be easier if you were the old Malfoy, because it's much more terrifying giving myself to Draco."

Draco felt his emotions welling up again. "You're scared because of who I used to be? Or who I am now?"

She wiped away her tears, clenched her teeth, and pointed at the armchairs. "I'm scared of me! Of who I was when I was over there. I don't know who that girl is. I just know that she feels terrified to not be the one calling the shots. She feels terrified to know that she's giving control up to the one person who she always thought would hurt her the worst. I feel," her voice broke, "scared to fall back into that place where I'm powerless and I like it."

Her words were contradictory. She was scared to submit to him, and yet she wanted to submit to the person who used to bully her. She wanted it to be a person who didn't make her feel something new, something so world-changing that it was impossible to ignore or explain away. The fact that she hadn't wanted to use her safe word or push him away was what scared her.

"I'm scared to want it," she whispered, as if on cue.

Draco's stomach twisted and he grabbed her chin again. "Do you want it?"

He saw the barriers in her eyes beginning to crumble. "So badly. Every day since. It's all I can think about. I've never felt so - so alive and so . . . Balanced. I can barely focus in class because I'm thinking about -"

Draco tightened his hold on her chin and guided her lips to his to silence her, pushing his tongue inside of her mouth to show her that no matter which version of him she got, his kiss would always remain the common denominator. He wanted to spell his affection for her with his lips, and he wanted it to be so undeniable that she understood there was nothing to be afraid of.

When he pulled away, he knew what he had to do.

He knew what she needed.

"You want the old Malfoy, so you can pretend you don't feel anything when it happens," he whispered in an almost taunting voice. "You want to know what it's like when he touches you, the person who used to terrorize the corridors. The person who caused you so much pain. Why?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

"Why, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she bit out. "I just know that I want it to be him."

He dug his fingers into her chin until she winced and her hand sprung up to wrap around his wrist. "Don't touch me. You know better."

She let go of him as though he were on fire, but still tried to pull her chin away.

He held on.

"You'd have better luck standing up to Draco than to Malfoy," Draco said with the sneer he used to wear whenever he looked at her or Potter or Weasley. He gave her a once-over, forcing his feelings for her behind a wall so he could give her what she craved.

"We'll see," she said. Her chest heaved with a weighted breath.

"You really want this?" he asked. "You really want him? You consent?"

"Yes."

"Then so be it." He let go of her chin so he could wrap his fingers around her throat. "Remember your safe word."

"I won't need it."

Without taking his eyes off of her face, he waved his free hand and wandlessly locked the door.

This time, when he snogged her, he did so with wild, forceful abandon. He pressed his body flush against hers, holding her against the wall so she couldn't leave even if she wanted to. He kept his hand wrapped around her throat so that she gasped between breaths. He kissed her the way he'd wanted to every time she made him angry since they'd met.

He pretended he was still Malfoy, and it was Sixth Year. He pretended he hated her, blamed her for everything bad that had ever happened, and everything bad that would happen. He pretended so that when he kissed her, it would bruise and she wouldn't be able to forget the taste of him on her lips.

She kissed him back with just as much zeal, pressing her throat against his hand and writhing her body in a way that told him this was exactly what she wanted him to do. She pulled his hair so hard that it caused his scalp to ache and his stomach to churn with a vicious desire to punish her for touching him.

Even though it wasn't the way he wanted things to be - even though Malfoy wasn't who he was anymore - he gave her what she wanted because she asked for it.

It was easy to slip back into his old skin. To Occlude so heavily that none of the real Draco remained, and to cloak himself in the mask that was Malfoy. He accessed his old memories, got into the bitter, hate-filled headspace he was in as a teenager. The one that had led him down the path of needing complete control in the first place.

Whirling them around, one hand in her hair and the other around her neck, he walked them backwards until they were at the chairs again. They continued to kiss violently, teeth nipping and biting at one another's lips. Finally, he tore his mouth away from hers.

"Sit," he ordered.

She sank to sit on the chair.

Draco stood there, panting for breath, furiously pushing his fingers through his tousled hair. His eyes scanned her body, trying to decide what he wanted to do. What Malfoy would have done. What Malfoy had wanted to do to her for years.

To see if she was still a snotty know-it-all with his hand between her thighs.

"Is this what you wanted?" he snarled, throwing himself forward until one knee was beside her leg and his hands were on the arms of the chair. He knew his eyes were blazing with something that he'd bridled sometime after he realized he hated who he was. "You want the old Malfoy?"

She wet her lips, her eyes hazy with lust that hadn't quite been there earlier, when she was pleasuring him on this very chair. She'd already fallen into the space between submission and self-control, he could tell. She was careening down to the abyss and soon, all it would take was the right words to make her his.

"You answer my questions when I ask them, Granger," he growled, his hand gripping her hair and dragging her head so far back that the entire front of her neck was exposed. His other hand went directly to her core, which he cupped boldly through the slit in her skirt. "Do you want the old Malfoy?"

She cried out when he squeezed her throat, her eyes rolling up into her head and hips bucking.

"Yes," she said. "I want him. I need him."

"Then spread your fucking legs."

She did as she was told. Draco let go of her so he could grab the side of the skirt's cutout. A loud tearing sound rang out as he ripped it clear up to her under-bust, revealing the wire of her black strapless brasserie and her knickers. He didn't care; he'd buy her whatever she wanted, anyway. He pinned her by the neck to the chair and then slipped his fingers inside of her so fast that she screamed.

"You wanted him, well here he is, Granger," he taunted with a smirk as he set a brutal pace that had her entire body seizing up. His hair fell into his eyes, but he didn't care about that, either. There was no way he was letting up pressure on her throat without hearing that safe word. "You can come for Malfoy, can't you?"

When he felt her body starting to tremble, he pulled his fingers out of her and began to touch her at the apex of her thighs, where he knew she felt the most pleasure. Her back arched and she let out a mixture between a sob and a whimper, throwing her hands up to grip the edges of the chair back. Draco could make out barely-intelligible moans under her breath, but he paid them no heed.

"Put your feet on the chair by your arse," he said, not once stopping the swirling of his fingers.

Once again, she obeyed. After a couple of second, she began to close her legs for some reason unbeknownst to him. At this, he pressed down firmer on her throat, until her eyes flew open and no sounds came out of her throat.

"Open those legs, witch," he chided, slowing his pace and watching as her eyelids fluttered.

Slowly, with jerky movements, she did. He let up pressure so she could suck in air. She looked up at him with a pitiful, pleading expression.

"I'm close, Malfoy."

Rage filled him and he leaned down close to her. He slid his hand up the column of her neck, until his fingers pushed her jaw upward.

"Don't you fucking dare."

She whimpered and he felt her hips squirming.

"I need to -"

"No," he said, voice firm. "You think Malfoy would let you come? You honestly think he would let you have anything you wanted?"

"I can't . . ." She bit her lip and whimpered, her hips jerking again. He refused to relent or stop touching her. "I can't hold it, Malfoy. Please. Please."

"No. This is what you wanted. You said this would be easier." He let go of her throat, listening to her suck in a deep breath. Then, he gripped the flesh of her thigh and held it open, switching up the speed of his fingers from slow to fast and back again.

Hermione threaded her fingers through her hair, as though in distress, and then she placed her hands on the arms of the chair to brace herself. Her toes curled around the front edge of the chair's cushion. The lewd sight of her like this, clad in a torn dress, her lipstick smudged from all their snogging and earlier activities . . . It was almost enough to make him want to let her.

But that wasn't what Malfoy would have done.

"Hold it," he warned when he saw her chest stuttering.

"I'm trying," she whined, gazing up at him through lidded eyes. "I'm trying, I swear. I swear."

Then, he dipped his hands inside of her and drew them back out again to touch her pearl. The moment he did, she threw her head back and sobbed aloud.

"Gods, fuck, Malfoy! Please! I can't - I can't hold it!"

"No," he said again, his tone almost soothing. Her hand reached for his wrist, as if to push it away, and he let out a laugh. "Don't you even think about it."

"Please," she sobbed. "Please, no more."

"Say your safe word."

She whimpered again. Her palm smacked against the arm of the chair and then dug into the upholstery. "Malfoy, please, please. I can't -"

"What's your safe word? Say the safe word, and this ends."

She looked at him, and he raised one eyebrow, slowing his movements until they were torturous and gentle. Her eyes widened.

"No, please. Please, if you do that, I -" She covered her face with her hands and Draco knew she was at her limit. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna . . ." It trailed off into a low, keening moan.

"Do not," he growled. "Tell me who you really want, and I'll let you."

She didn't need any convincing. The moment she screamed the words he wanted to hear, he felt the mask that was Malfoy slipping. He stopped Occluding and felt the flames within him swelling until they consumed him.

He'd never wanted her more.

"Draco," she wailed. "You're Draco. I want Draco."

"You're such a good girl," he cooed as he leaned forward further, dipping his head to kiss the side of her throat. He sat down beside her in the chair, cuddling up to her as he prepared for what was about to happen.

The moment he felt her shifting into his lap, he felt her entire body seizing and shuddering violently. She promptly burst into tears of shock, still moaning as her orgasm ripped through her. She kept one hand gripped to the chair arm, but her other arm came up to wrap around the front and side of his neck. Her fingers pretty much tore at his hair, but he did his best to ignore it so she had something to hold onto as she rode the waves.

"It's okay," he chanted as she came down. "You're okay. You're safe. Who do you see?"

"Malfoy," she sobbed, her head lolling back on his shoulder.

"Shh, shh," he soothed, kissing the side of her head and cradling her close. He stroked his fingers down her arms and hair. "Count to three, and then tell me who you see when you close your eyes."

"I see you," she said, pulling her legs up into the chair and his lap.

"Good girl," he whispered against her hair.

Draco wrapped his arms around her and held her, the two of them sitting curled up in the armchair. They listened to each other's breaths and the crackling of the fire. Draco chose to stare up at the false sky above. Granger burrowed her head into his chest.

When he thought back to Valentine's Day, he hadn't thought he'd ever even be her friend, let alone whatever this was. Yet here he was, weeks later, and they were cuddling in a chair in his family Library. He felt strange. They'd already gone over everything they possibly could and now, what was left?

For the first time in a long time, Draco felt unsure of what to do next. He'd spent his days moping about, brooding, and thinking about how much he hated himself. But now, he was so stuffed up with the confusion he felt surrounding his situation with Granger, that it felt like there was no room leftover for him to pine anymore. Which was a good thing, when he thought about it.

He just didn't know where they stood.

They had never been friends. Sure, they'd gotten to a point where they could work together in class with mild bickering, but they were not friends. Now, Draco was going to have to figure out what they were supposed to do.

As he sat there, arms enveloping her faintly-trembling body, he realized that he would rather die than go back to the way things were before the Cupere.

"I wouldn't change any of it," he murmured.

She rose and fell with the rise of his own chest. She stirred and Draco realized that she'd dozed off. Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

"Hm? Change any of what?"

"The past," he said.

"That's easy for you to say."

"I didn't . . ." Panic. "I just mean . . ."

She sighed, sounding tired. "I know what you meant, Draco."

Feeling a bit chastised, he bit his lip and tried to think of a different way to word how he felt. He didn't know how, not without facing the ultimate rejection. So instead, he refocused his attention on her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Do you need anything? Water? Or food?"

"No," she mumbled.

Draco felt a pang of worry ring out in his body. "Are you tired?"

"No."

He started to play with her hair, absentmindedly pushing the strands over her shoulders. They were lighter than they looked, and as soft as the velvet of her torn dress. He knew he should probably fix it, but he didn't want to.

"So," he said, "have you gotten enough research done to make your decision?"

She didn't answer at first. At some point, she spoke again. "I think I'm submissive."

Draco fought the urge to smirk on pure reflex. "All right. And what do you want to do about that?"

"I haven't the slightest clue."

"You sound sad."

"I am."

Draco frowned. "Why?"

"Because I don't have any idea who I am anymore."

The crackling of the fire washed over them, and Draco spent the next minute or so racking his brain for what to talk about. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the feeling of her in his arms, and the way their bodies were positioned in the chair in a way that felt so compact. So . . . Close. He couldn't remember ever feeling closer to another person. It just hurt him all the more knowing that no matter how good it felt to be near her, he didn't deserve a single second of her time. He didn't deserve an inch of her body.

He pulled his feet all the way onto the cushion and sank deeper into the chair, causing her to rest her full weight on his body. His arms tightened around her and his fingers found their resting place in her hair.

If this night was all he had, he wanted to memorize the way this felt.

"Perhaps it would help," she said, "if you explained to me what is supposed to happen next."

"Well," he replied, "typically, we would create an agreement. A contract. And we would agree upon what we were comfortable with engaging in, sign it in some way, and then adhere to it."

"Like a business proposal?" She shifted, adjusting her head so that it lay more comfortably on his chest and shoulder. "That sounds so . . . Emotionless."

He chuckled, adjusting his own head against the arm of the chair. He'd never sat sunken so far down on an armchair before. His prim, proper father would have a heart attack if he saw them curled up this way with their feet on the upholstery.

"This sort of thing doesn't exactly employ the processing of emotions. It's about mutual mental and physical satisfaction within the boundaries of a safe, consenting agreement."

"Should I be writing this down?" she said, and her somber tone almost made him miss the fact that it was a joke.

"I dunno. Do you feel like you should be?" He tucked her head under his chin.

"I dunno. Do you want me to be writing it down?"

Draco felt the spark of a challenge between them. "This is going to go in circles, Granger."

She sighed and sat up by holding onto the top of the chair back, looking down at him with tousled hair and smeared make-up. She looked wrecked, but he adored it.

"I just don't want to sign a contract without knowing what I'm getting myself into. I would much rather you ease me into it over time."

"How?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "We should spend more time together so we can learn if this is something we really want."

Draco's gaze flitted about her face as his brow furrowed. "Do you mean . . . You'd like us to . . . Date?"

She looked into his eyes. His heart beat a wild pattern in his chest as he waited for her response.

Finally, she said, "Admitting that would be very difficult for me."

Draco looked down at the way their bodies were tangled together. He felt a small tinge of bitterness. This was why he felt he didn't deserve her. Because she was terrified of him in some way, and that was why she was so apprehensive to enter into an agreement with him that would tie them together inexplicably. There wouldn't have to be an uncontrollable reason like the Cupere for them to be in each other's lives; it would be contractual. She'd have to admit to herself that she'd wanted him badly enough to sign a contract.

It hurt to hear it, to hear that admitting she wanted to date him caused her conflict. That she had some sort of interest in him, but she felt that it would be too hard to admit it. Even if it was the result of his poor treatment of her in the past, he still had a heart. He still felt like he was falling off of his broom for her.

It still hurt.

Before he could stop himself, he felt his wounded pride speaking for him.

"Why is it so difficult? Why can't we just," he sat up, too, causing her to have to pull herself up to sit on the chair arm, "let go of the past? I've apologized, you've forgiven me, and we've agreed to at least be friends. Why do we have to spend time over-complicating the fact that we want to be in each other's lives?"

She reached out to smooth her fingers through his likely-unruly hair. He tried to ignore the shiver that ran downward through his body.

"Do you want that?" she asked.

He stared at her, not knowing what to say. Of course he did. He'd take being her acquaintance over not being able to look at each other because they'd had so many intimate encounters and were never able to overcome outside opinion. He just wanted her in his life.

"Just because I'm a coward," he muttered, "doesn't mean we have to live the lives of cowards."

"You're not a coward," she said. "Yes, you've made mistakes, but that's what makes you a human being, Draco. Humans get frightened sometimes and when they do, they make poor choices. You've just made some poor choices. But you've also done good things. That means something to me."

"So then why is it so difficult to imagine being with someone like me?" he said, raising his voice slightly. It was hard not to feel offended, even though he hated himself. But what was more difficult was dissecting the offense. Did he feel defensive because he wanted to defend himself? Or because she was the one passing the judgment?

"That would imply that there's feelings in the first place. Do you have feelings for me?"

Draco didn't know how to answer her. He had never before been this vulnerable with another person, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He didn't want to tell her he had them, only to have her laugh in his face.

He started to speak, but then he felt something fluctuate within his magic. Someone was nearing the wards he'd placed to warn him of intruders to the Library. He stood up.

"I don't know, but I don't think we should keep discussing this here. We should table it."

She pouted. "Can't we just go somewhere more private? Couldn't we go to your room?"

He felt his heart skip a beat. Granger. Alone with him in his bedroom.

That would be difficult for him.

"Yes," he said in a cautious voice. "I suppose we could."

"Then, let's go," she said. "Tabling it isn't a good idea. We should finish the discussion now, while we're both amenable to discussing the topic."

After Draco fixed her dress, Granger gathered up his blazer and her purse. He reached his hand out and the moment she took it, he Disapparated them.

When they Apparated into his bedroom, Draco had already worked himself into a temper.

It was one thing to hate himself, but it was another thing entirely to have to keep dealing with the experiences that made him fall so deep into the pit of his self-loathing. He knew he'd been a bully when he was younger. He knew that he'd fought on the Dark Lord's side of the war. He knew he'd almost killed Dumbledore. And he hated himself for all of those things.

But did he have to endure being reminded constantly of the fact that he was worthless?

If she really, truly felt like it was so difficult to imagine being with him, then why had she agreed to be his date to the gala? Why had she asked him for his help with the Cupere if all she could stand was one day with him? What was the bloody point of everything they'd done together in the Library? The Gryffindor common room? The corridor outside the Room of Requirement? The hut? So many places that they'd been intimate, and she couldn't imagine being with him without feeling like it would be too "difficult to admit?"

Why?

As Granger wandered about the room, touching his things and taking in the green and black decor, he found himself perched on the edge of his bed with no desire to even breathe. He wastrash. No one wanted to be around him, to be with him, and that was why he was trash.

"Look," she said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. She faced him with one leg curled underneath her on the mattress. "I didn't mean to sound so rude in the Library. I was -"

"Save it," he hissed. "You don't need to explain why you don't feel that way for me."

She sighed and started to reach for him. He panicked. He didn't want her touching him. Not anymore. Not if she was using him. He snatched her hand out of the air by the wrist.

"Watch your hands, Granger."

"Oh, so I don't agree to date you, and now I'm not allowed to touch you anymore?" she said with a scowl.

He glared down at her. "This has nothing to do with you rejecting me. But I'm glad to know that you think I'd sink so low."

"Well, you're the one who's acting like a churlish, brooding prat!"

He got to his feet, his anxiety driving him to pace a few steps away. "I'm sorry. It must be so difficult for you to imagine going on a date with me and having to deal with my churlish attitude."

"Draco!" she cried, looking offended.

Draco whirled on her, glaring daggers in her direction. "Forgive me, Granger, but am I not allowed to have emotions, too? It's been all about you so far, but have you ever stopped to ask me how I'm doing? To ask me how I'm feeling?"

She looked stricken, her mouth hanging open. "I didn't think it mattered."

Her honesty sliced into his heart. He nodded slowly. "You didn't think it mattered."

A guilty expression crossed her face and she started to stand.

"No, no," he said, enraged and wounded. "Sit back down. You can have my bed. Better yet, take my room. Take my mother. Take the whole fucking Manor, since everything's about you and it's so bloody difficult for you to have to reconcile the fact that you like the idea of fucking me with the fact that I'm an evil, wicked person."

He'd lost his grip on his emotions. He couldn't hold them in anymore and now that he realized what was going on with him, he realized exactly what was bothering him about this whole thing.

Granger needed an entire existential crisis to cope with the fact that she liked him.

On what planet would that not hurt a wizard's feelings?

"Draco Malfoy, that is not what this is about!"

Now he understood why she'd tried to leave the Library earlier. He understood what it was like to become so overwhelmed by his emotions that he wanted nothing more than to escape. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

"Then tell me what it's about," he said icily. "Don't worry. I'll wait."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Stop acting like this. Stop it."

"Do you like me, then?" he asked, eyebrows shooting upward. "Do you? Because with the amount of times I've made you come, you'd think you'd know by now."

Her glare was as hot as the fires of Hell. "Don't you hold that over my head."

"I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. I'm not holding it over your head that I had to help you, nor am I even asking for a fucking thank you. I'd just like to know if you like me. You can answer that. I am asking you to answer the question."

Her mouth opened to speak and she took a breath, but then let out a frustrated sound. "That's not - I can't - This isn't -"

And as she stood there, looking as though she'd just been hit by a Bludger, the answer came tunneling towards him like a speeding bombarda spell.

"You're just scared to be loved by someone who doesn't want anything from you," he said, leaning down to hiss into her face. "You're scared because you like me, but you're used to liking people who like the way you do things for them. I don't need you to do a damn thing for me, and that's what scares you the most."

She stared up at him, appearing horrified.

"What do you mean . . . Loved by someone?"

He felt the panic growing again as he realized what he'd just admitted, and he turned away from her. He hadn't meant to say it. He didn't even know if he meant it. He didn't know how he could mean it when their interactions in the grand scheme of time were so limited. Bullying, her torture at the Manor, in front of the Wizengamot, school encounters, and one day while under the influence of a lust potion was not enough time to fall in love with someone.

But even as he tried to rationalize the accidental slip of the tongue, he knew he'd known it for years. He'd crushed on her since the first moment he laid eyes on her, and he fell for her spirit not long after that. The Cupere had only shed light on feelings he'd been allowing to poison him with his inability to see his own worth.

He couldn't tell her why he loved her because the fact that he was delusional enough to think that someone as perfect as her could ever be pulled down to his broken level in Hell made him want to hurt himself.

"This is a waste of time," he spat out. "Everyone in the entire wizarding world can take one look at you, another at me, and know that I don't fucking deserve you. I've done horrible things and the fact that I even entertained the thought that we could be something together is exactly the reason why this entire thing was a mistake. I don't regret helping you with the Cupere, and I don't regret using an Unforgivable on Richter, but I regret ever letting myself think I deserved to be happy after what I've done."

Silence. His ears rung in the absence of the sound of his own voice. He hung his head, focusing on the carpet. He'd told her everything there was to tell, and now? There was nothing he could do but wait for her response.

"Do you want to know why I really chose you to help me out that day?" Granger said, her voice a quiet storm.

Draco did not turn back around. "You've told me three times now why you picked me."

"And three times, I didn't tell you the whole reason."

His stomach flipped. "What?"

She spoke, and the words crashed down like a waterfall without stopping.

"My friends, as much as I love them, do not know the real me. After what happened to me at the Manor, they had no clue how to help me. I had about five seconds to stuff the trauma down so we could get back to hunting for Horcruxes. I have had to suffer through night terrors, flashbacks, and panic attacks ever since. No one has ever asked me how I cope with that day. And I am lonely.

"But you're different. You had everything to lose, and you risked it all just to use Legilimency on me because temporary relief was better than experiencing it full force. You hated me before that. As far as you knew, I hated you. What you did was not self-serving. You did something that only a lonely person would do. Someone who was surrounded by people who didn't care that you were suffering.

"So when I went to you for help, the real reason why I chose you was because I knew you were just as lonely I was. I didn't want to have to suffer through it alone. To this day, you are the only person who knows what I went through that day, and you are the only person that I trust with the sides of myself that no one else but you has ever cared to see.

"And I am not a submissive person. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Yet somehow, I'm submissive to you. And now I know why."

At this, Draco cast a glance over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were bright, even though the self-lighting lanterns in his room were dim. He could not look away.

He didn't want to.

"I would never and will never submit to anyone else. I can submit to you, Draco, because I feel safe with you. I wanted to submit to the old Malfoy because he represents the person who had everything to lose, and risked it all for me." She gestured to herself, her voice gaining in conviction as the sentence developed. "You're the only one who does what's best for me. Everyone else wants something from me. But you?" She let her hands fall to her side in a show of helplessness, her facial expression resigned. "You want things for me."

Draco didn't understand why his throat hurt so badly, nor why his heart was beating so fast. He didn't understand why he wanted to cry. She walked towards him, and he turned to face her as she did.

"I feel like I can submit to you because you deserve it. You have earned the right to have control over me."

Draco felt like she had ripped his ribcage open, reached inside, and yanked his heart out. It felt like she was squeezing it, watching it thud and pound desperately. His blood was pooling on the metaphorical floor, and he couldn't stand anymore. His ears were burning.

Hermione Granger was the only person he'd let crush his heart to dust if it meant she was the one holding it.

He sank to his knees and hung his head, feeling the weight of his father's sins and his own pressing him downward. Hermione stood in front of him, her arms wrapping around his head to hug him close to the velvet fabric of her extravagant gown.

"It was only supposed to be one day," she said.

He didn't want to hear it. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve anything good.

"Stop," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that had welled up.

How could one person hold so many emotions inside of their body? He felt like a hurricane was tearing through his heart, shredding him into millions of worthless pieces. He couldn't handle hearing her words.

"It took me one day to realize that I don't want only one day with you," she said.

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight. He felt like the hurricane was going to whisk him away. Away from Hermione. Away from solace. From peace.

"Stop," he begged.

A tear escaped the confines of his closed eyelids and he knew he was done for. This was everything he'd been dreaming of hearing for so long, yet it was burning his ears from the inside out to hear it. He wasn't good for her. He would never be good for her.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his head back so that his face was turned up to look at her. Her thumbs swept the trails of sorrow aside and she offered him a small, simple smile.

"You are not the villain of our story, Draco. You never were."

Draco's chin began to tremble. Her hands were petal-soft against his cheeks.

He felt held.

No, no, no. I don't, I don't, I don't, I -

"You deserve me."

Draco grabbed her by the forearms and dragged her down to the ground with him. He cupped her face and pulled her into a passionate, heated kiss that sizzled lines of fire all the way down to his toes. She straddled his lap, tilted her head to the side, and deepened their kiss until he no longer knew or cared who was who. Her hands were in his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp and eliciting faint moans of bliss from his chest. She arched her back as his hands slid up her sides.

This was not the first time they had snogged, but it felt like the one time he'd never forget.

"What am I to you?" she whispered above him. For the first time, she didn't look confident. She looked nervous. Unsure. She'd just spelled it all out for him, and even though he wasn't as eloquent as her, she needed to know how he felt, too.

This was it. All of the pining and self-flagellation that he'd lost himself to all year, and she'd just found him with a speech to rival the word of the Gods. She'd reached into the darkness and dragged him out underneath a sky sparkling with stars that she'd placed herself. None of it mattered anymore. The sleepless nights. Hating himself so much that he sometimes thought of dying. Thinking he wasn't good enough.

One person thought he was enough.

He didn't bother to clear the fresh tears from his vision as he let out a hoarse, cracked sob. All the words he wanted to say - all the things he'd felt and suffered through in his life - and he could only manage to sum it all up with a single word.

"Everything."

Hermione smiled and then promptly burst into tears. Draco had no idea what the reason was, whether it was from the sheer intensity of the moment or from happiness, but he didn't have time to wonder at it. She kissed him again and he took control with immediate, pressing need. His heart, the heart that belonged to her, ravaged the cavern of his chest. It was though it were trying to burst through his skin and reach her.

Draco wrapped his arms around her body and stood up, turning to deposit her horizontally onto his bed. He began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes scouring the body that he had every intention of claiming. The body that he hoped would belong to him for as long as she would have him. She scrambled up onto her knees, breathing heavily from the exertion of their earlier kiss. The warmth of her torso leaned against him as her small fingers assisted him with his shirt, and then pushed the open sides of it back until it came off of his shoulders.

He sucked in his breath when her touch skated along the length of his Sectumsempra scar, and he fought the urge to warn her about touching him. He loved her. Draco loved Hermione, and if anyone could touch him, it was her. He wanted her to touch him. He wanted her hands all over him, memorizing the planes, dips, and hollows of his skin. He wanted to do the same to her.

He wanted her.

"Tell me to stop this," he said, and he felt his tears cooling on his cheeks. "Tell me to stop, Hermione."

She shook her head and pressed kisses to the ridged, warped flesh of the scar. His head fell back as her tongue tasted wherever her lips traversed, and his fingers tangled in her hair. Shaking all over, he pulled up all of his resolve to keep himself from snapping into the darkest side of him that he had.

"Tell me to stop this, or I'm gonna fuck you right here on my bed."

As she ran her tongue up the center of his chest, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Fuck research," she said before her lips grazed his jawline. They brushed his earlobe. "I want you."

Draco's sanity snapped like the crashing of a tsunami against the sand.

"If we do this - if you give me your consent, there's no going back," he said, eyes ravenous as he took in her lustful disposition. He gripped her by the hair at the back of the head. "If we do this, you're mine."

"I'm yours." she said, shrugging her shoulders. "You have my consent."

Draco lifted his chin and gazed down his nose at her. "Take off your dress."

Hermione did so, with him watching the entire time. She pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the floor beside him. She seemed to have no qualms about revealing her knickers and brassiere to him. He wet his lips like a man in the desert, his hand pressing firmly against her shoulder until she got the hint to lay on her back.

"Do you realize that I can do a multitude of things to you before ever even being inside of you, Granger?" he said, his voice coming out in a dangerous purr as he stood over her.

She pulled herself up onto her elbows, looking for all the world like a starved wildcat. Before she could say anything, Draco grabbed her thighs and dragged her until her rear balanced the edge of the bed. She stared at him, wide-eyed, as he dropped to his knees on the floor between her legs. He hooked his hand under her right knee and lifted it up until it was near his lips.

"What are you -"

"Things you've only dreamed about," he said, interrupting her. "Things you probably wanted me to do to you when you were under the influence of the potion."

He kissed the inside of her knee and began to work his way up, higher and higher. He could hear her heavy breaths catching in her throat the closer he got to her center. When he nipped her inner thigh with his teeth, right beside the elastic of her knickers, she cried out.

"I can do anything I want with you, can't I, precious?" he murmured, his eyes boring into her from when he currently presided. Her hips jerked forward, an involuntary movement that caused his nose to brush against her. Another cry echoed into the dimly-lit room.

"Anything," she moaned, still propped up on her elbows, looking down at him. "Do whatever you want. Please."

"I can do anything," he groaned, and he enjoyed that fact. He ran the tip of his tongue along her skin, right at the very top of her thigh, as far as he could go. When she tried to move her body towards him further, to get him where he knew she wanted him, his hand shot up to press flat on her pelvis.

He used his other hand to hold her knickers aside. His head spun. This was the first time he was doing what he really wanted to do with her. The knowledge that she cared about him - really cared about him - was all he needed to know to desire making this moment a memory she never had cause to let go of. Her legs widened and her feet came to rest on his thighs. He knew she was anticipating what was to come.

"Anything from holding it back," he said, the heat of his breath upon her flesh causing her to whimper, "to never stopping."

Draco pressed his mouth to her core, tasting her, teasing her, and drawing moans out of her mouth that he'd committed to memory. Her hips writhed and bucked, causing him to feel the need to hook his arms underneath the backs of her thighs and hold her down. The moment he did, he felt her sitting upright and tugging at his hair in desperation.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, let me go. Let me move."

He pulled back the tiniest of amounts. He pressed a tiny kiss to her. "Safe word."

With a cry of frustration, she swooned backward until her head hit the blanket. He smirked into her and resumed his sinful ministrations, working her into a frenzy. He could feel her trying to writhe, but he was much too strong for her. And so she could only find other ways to voice her desire. It was in the way she brought her hands to his head and caressed it. It was in the way her toes curled into the fabric of his trousers and used his legs as an anchor to press herself closer to his mouth. It was in the stuttering heave of her chest and the violent trembling in her thighs. It was in the wretched wail that left her lips and caused a stirring in his own loins, and enabled him to care not a single iota for the fact that she was tugging at his hair in clumps.

He pulled back. "Has anyone ever tasted you, Granger?"

She shook her head frantically, her eyes hazy and shrouded in dreams. "Keep going. Please don't - don't stop."

He hummed his acceptance and used the fingers of one hand to pleasure her while he spoke.

"Tell me what I want to hear, or you'll have a repeat of what happened in the Library," he said, his words coming out in a coo.

"How do I -" She stopped to moan his name as he switched to soft, barely-noticeable touches, which he knew she responded to best. "How do I know what you want me to say?"

"You know what I want you to say, precious," he chided. He kissed her thigh. The thigh that belonged to him. "Admit it, or I won't let you come."

She looked confused.

"Admit the truth."

She averted her eyes, so he stilled the movements of his right hand. With his left, he pressed even firmer on her pelvis, so that she had no chance of moving. She glowered at him, but he could tell that she was blushing.

"I like you," she mumbled.

He smirked. "I'm gonna tell you what you're going to do, Hermione. You're gonna come for me. You're gonna make yourself come on my tongue so I can taste you, and you're gonna tell me how good you are."

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I will."

Draco used the flat of his tongue, gentle in the way it moved. She whined and ground herself against it, chasing her release exactly the way he'd asked her to. She really was good, and she followed orders like nobody's business. He supposed he should have expected nothing less than that from Hermione Granger. It wasn't long before she was shuddering, and he knew she was close.

She sat up, placing one hand on the mattress and one on top of his head as she drove her hips up to meet the strokes of his tongue.

"I'm so good for you," she groaned, causing a warm feeling to swell in his chest. "Oh, Gods - I'm so, so good. I'm g-gonna come. I - Draco!"

She screamed and crested rather suddenly, quite violent in the way she did so. She fell back on the bed again, bouncing slightly as she hit the mattress. He held her in place as he worked her through it, barely minding when her legs wrapped around his head to hold him close. When she'd finally stilled, he let her knickers snap back into place.

Draco knew he would never tire of this. He would do this over and over again, just like he had the day this all began, if only to hear her tell him how it felt with that sweet voice of hers.

He kissed his way up her body until their lips met. She surprised him with the amount of passion and need there was behind her returned kiss. He felt momentarily concerned that he might not be able to keep up with her. She hooked her ankles behind his lower back and dragged him firmly against her, hugging her arms around the back of his neck so tightly that he could do nothing except allow his body to lay flush against hers.

They snogged for a long time, moving to different parts of the bed as their lips traveled all over each other's faces, necks, and shoulders. At one point, Draco found himself on his back beneath her as she scraped her teeth across his pulse. At another, Draco pinned her on her stomach beneath him, sucking the flesh at the back of her neck whereupon he discovered it was quite possibly the most sensitive spot on her body.

Their hands felt every inch of bare skin that they could. Hermione herself removed her brassiere to expose herself to him without hesitation. He kissed her there, too, for as long as he could until she was wanton beneath him again. In the next moment, his trousers were discarded and he wore nothing but his pants.

"Oh, fuck, you're so - Salazar," he said when his fingers found her core and delved deep inside of her. He wanted to feel every inch of her body, and he meant it. Even this part of her belonged to him now. "I have to make you come again."

Her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of pleasure he gave her with his fingers as he used both hands to touch the inside andoutside of her core. He was wicked inside and gentle outside with her body, just as he was as a person. She responded with zeal, her mouth open in a perpetual, neverending moan as he once again brought her hurtling through seas of euphoria.

"Be a good girl, Hermione," he groaned as he coaxed it out of her. "Be a good girl if you want me inside you."

Still trembling, she reached for him. He noticed that there were tears in her eyes.

Worried, he grabbed her and pulled her to straddle his lap. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she was already pulling him into another mind-bending kiss by the cheeks. And when she pulled back to whisper a wandless contraceptive charm, it was the answer he needed.

Draco and Hermione's eyes met as she lifted herself up onto her knees. She placed light hands on his narrow shoulders. He put his hands on her hips and held her at bay. He'd never wanted anything more in his life, but he had to be sure. He looked directly into her eyes with all of the love he held in his heart for her, even if he didn't quite understand how deep it ran or how it came to be.

"I'm sorry that I fucked up so badly that night here at the Manor," he said. "If I had the chance to do it all over, I would protect you. That's the reason why I said yes to helping you with the potion. Because I wanted to protect you."

She smiled at him, and it was the most genuine smile she'd ever given him. This smile belonged to no one. Not her friends, not the professors, not anyone. It was his.

"Thank you," she said. "I forgive you."

Something about the way she said it solidified everything. It was the final step. The cherry atop the sundae. Every choice he'd made in the past, everything they'd ever said to each other, every encounter they'd ever had. From First Year to Third to Fifth to now. As hard as the path had been, it led them to each other, and he was certain that he wanted her.

"Are you certain you want me, Hermione?"

She raised one eyebrow, pushed her hand down between them, and gripped him firmly in her hand. He gritted his teeth.

"Yes," she whispered, and then she lowered herself onto his length with slow, precise movements of her hips.

Their gazes remained connected as twin moans drifted out of their mouths, mingling in the air like stardust from two colliding stars. He felt her, surrounding him, giving herself to him, taking from him whatever he could give. It was everything. Everything.

His thoughts began to scatter, leaving behind the primal side of his desire. His heart burst.

Draco threw caution to the window, dug his fingers into her hips, and held her in place as he finally - blessedly - claimed her for his own. She threw her head back, allowing him the space to be able to bury his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder to stifle his own sounds. They danced, moving together and apart like they had at the gala earlier that evening. Only this time, neither of them were terrible at it.

"Such a good girl," he mumbled into her skin. "So good. So fucking good."

"Draco," was all she seemed able to say, her fingers running up the back of his neck to twine in his hair. "Draco."

"Come for me like this, precious," he begged, desperate for whatever she could give. "Please, Hermione. I need to feel you - fuck - I need you to -"

She pressed her lips to his in a frenzied kiss as she crested. Keening noises drifted from the depths of her throat, trapped between their joined mouths, and she arched her back into him. He fucked her through her orgasm, pounding up into her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Suddenly, she leaned down and kissed his scar, like she had earlier. He felt his skin rippling beneath her touch, the bubble of panic in his chest growing again. He didn't know if he liked this. He was afraid of what would happen when his emotions overwhelmed him.

"Hermione," he said, slowing the pace of his thrusts. "Don't -"

"Focus on me," she whispered, interjecting. She removed one hand from his hair and caressed his pectoral. He watched as she focused on the scar, studying it.

"It's ugly," he blurted out, the panic causing his blood to creep towards a familiar boiling hatred for himself.

"No," she murmured, rolling her lips lazily against his. She tossed her long hair back and held her arm up beside them.

There it was. Her scar. The physical representation of everything he had done to hurt her when they were growing up, commemorated forever in flesh with a dark curse that could never be healed or reversed. He felt sick to his stomach.

He couldn't tear his eyes off of it.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No," she repeated, and then she placed her other hand flat on his chest. "This scar is as much a part of me as your scar is a part of you. Just like your Dark Mark. Just like the birthmark I have on my ankle. Do you care if I have scars?"

He shook his head, one of his hands sliding up her spine.

"And I don't care about yours." She wrapped her right arm around his neck; her left hand gripped his chin. She began to move up and down, and Draco felt the flames of lust within him escalating. The fire warred with his emotions.

She didn't care about his scars. She wanted him.

"Do you want me to come again?" she asked, in that same sugar-sweet tone that she'd used with him earlier that night.

The fog in his mind hung heavy, oppressive and keeping him focused only on her. He wet his lips, hungry for it, and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to be a good girl for you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling of her body. He moaned.

"Yeah."

"Make me."

Suddenly, Hermione shoved him onto his back and took charge. Draco, who had never before been with a witch who'd done so, found himself unable to do much more than curse and grip her thighs as she took what she needed from his body. He was unsurprised by this, knowing how she was in the classroom. This version of her was the version he'd expected; the submissive version was the one that had surprised him.

Either way, both versions were his.

Something indescribable rent in two inside of his mind, unleashing a discomposed, voracious need that bounded to the forefront of his mind. It was beyond primal. It took the sweet borderline lovemaking that they'd been sharing together and set it aflame. Like a star going supernova in the vast emptiness of space, Draco let out a growl and flipped them over. He lifted himself onto his knees, held her thighs open, and increased his pace to a bone-rattling, jaw-dropping speed.

"Ngh, fuck. You're so good, Hermione," he groaned through clenched teeth. "You're so fucking sweet and good. Lying there and taking it like that."

"Draco, please," she kept repeating, over and over. "Draco, please."

A few short moments later, she wailed again, her chest arching up to the Heavens as she went soaring through stardust to reach the furthest reaches of space. He saw her toes curling, and her hands reaching up to caress the hard plane of his abdomen. A shiver ran through him at the feeling of her touch.

He reached between them to touch her, to help her reach the galaxies, and their eyes met.

It was too intense.

He didn't know what he was doing, or what he was saying. He just kept thinking about that day, all those weeks ago, when his cowardice caused her to get dosed with a lust potion. That day, when he'd risked ripping his own heart out of his chest just to help her. That day, when he'd first let her know exactly how to treat a witch.

The words cascaded out of his mouth like shooting stars, the same speed that his tears fell. He hoped she made a wish upon each one.

He would do his best to grant them all.

"I'm gonna spend every fucking day I have on this Earth worshipping you, Granger," he said in a fervent voice. "You're getting flowers. You're getting sweets. I'm gonna fuck you everywhere, whenever you want. In the dorms, in empty classrooms, on the Quidditch Pitch. I don't give a fuck. I don't care. I just love you, okay? I just fucking love you."

And then she reached the edge of the Milky Way. Hermione was coming, her body squeezing Draco's as tight as a vice. She pulled his own orgasm out of him, and the sheer potency of a potion made of confessions and desire finally took him down. He collapsed on top of her, weeping unashamedly for everything that had ever gone wrong in his life.

"Oh, Draco," she hummed as she soothed him. "You deserve to be happy."

"I'm sorry," was all he managed to sob. "I'm sorry for everything."

"You're good enough for me." Her fingers were everywhere: wiping his tears, pressing his face into her bosom, combing his hair. "You are enough."

He wanted to be. He desperately wanted to be.

"I wish I had -"

"Shh," Hermione said, using the side of her knuckle to tilt his face upward. He felt like he could see the night sky reflected in her eyes. "Just be here, okay? Right now. Just be here."

He gazed at her for a second longer, and then he crawled up her body. He dropped gentle kisses on her lips, his heart pulsing with affection as she continued to clear his face of the remnants of his tears. He then slipped his arms around her waist, cradling her close, and relaxed on top of her so that he was as close to her as humanly possible. He'd never felt so vulnerable, and the only person he ever wanted to feel that way with was her.

They lay there for a long time in silence that was finally comfortable. Draco closed his eyes and listened to her steady breathing. She seemed content, and that was all he could hope for. As long as she didn't regret anything that they had done, he was content, too.

After fifteen minutes or so, when he was close to dozing off, a scratching sound came at his bedroom door.

Draco cracked one eye open and lifted his head from Hermione's bare chest.

"What's that?" she said. "Is someone there?"

"No, I think it's my mother's kneazle. Frou-Frou." He accioed his wand from the inside of his discarded blazer's sleeve, and then waved it to open the door.

Lo and behold, it was indeed Frou-Frou. Only she wasn't alone. The moment the door opened, Frou-Frou, a white cat with short fur came prancing in, and behind her trotted Hermione's furball monstrosity. Frou-Frou hopped up onto the bed and approached Hermione to sniff her shoulder and purr. Crookshanks gave a deep meow and then promptly leapt onto Draco's back.

"Oof!" he exclaimed in irritation as the heavy weight settled on his spine. "How did the kneazles even get out of that room? The gala can't be over for at least another hour. My mother wouldn't have let them roam with guests in the Manor."

Hermione burst into a fit of laughter as she extricated one arm from Draco's embrace so she could pet Frou-Frou. "I bet it was Crooks. He has his ways."

Draco waved his wand, shut and locked the door, and then dropped it onto the carpeted floor. Crookshanks curled up right in the dip of Draco's lower back and settled in. He was soft and warm, but he was heavy enough to be a minor grievance.

"Yeah, well, so do I," he growled. With one hand, he reached behind him to gently coax the orange poof onto the bed beside them. He lifted himself up onto his knees, starkers as the day he was born, and smirked down at his amused witch. "I hope your monstrosity likes a show. Kneazles, on the ground. You, on your stomach. Now."

She lifted her eyebrows, not moving to touch the kneazles. "Already?"

"I said now, Granger."

She didn't need to be told twice.

June

"Is that from Healer Garrison?"

Draco looked up from the letter he was reading. Hermione had just plopped herself down at the Slytherin table beside him. She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and began fixing herself a plate. Perched on his shoulder, his owl, Eomer waited patiently for instructions.

"No," he said. "It's from my mother. She wants to know when we'll be arriving in Paris next week."

Hermione grinned. "We graduate in five days. Can't she let us get past that first before she starts talking about the Summer hols?"

"No," he said again, folding the letter back up. He picked up a bit of food and passed it to Eomer. He spoke to him. "Off to the owlery with you, you big brute."

Eomer clicked his beak at Hermione, who reached over to run her fingers along the feathers atop his head. He hooted, and then winged off towards the windows.

"And your father? How is he?"

He frowned. His father had yet to accept Hermione into the fold, and she knew that. The fact that she kept asking showed him that she really, truly wanted to be a part of his life. He felt horrid knowing that his father had reprehensible thoughts about her. No matter what, he would never speak those thoughts to her. She was better off not knowing.

"He's well."

"Ah, that's wonderful. Where's everyone else?" Hermione asked, looking about the table.

Draco took a bite of his breakfast and then replied. "Francia came by and wanted me to tell you she's handling the drinks for the End-of-Year party this time. Ichiro was here, but he had an exam, so he ate quickly. And then Pansy and Theo went home already. They'll return for the graduation ceremony, but they wanted to see their parents."

She was quiet for a minute, drawing Draco's gaze. She put on a small smile, one that Draco could see right through. He wished she would let him help with her parents, but Hermione was insistent that they leave them to their new life in Australia.

"Well, that's lovely," she said, her voice strained. She buttered her toast. "Do you have any exams left to take?"

"Besides Astronomy tomorrow night, no." He set down his fork and snaked his arm around her waist. When he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, no one paid them any mind.

When they'd first showed up at Hogwarts after the Easter hols with their fingers entwined in the corridors, the entire school had been in a state of shock. Somehow, by some insane miracle, the information of their relationship hadn't made it back to Potter and the Weaselbee. Hermione hadn't heard a peep out of them since their monthly letter in May. He was sure they'd wake up to a Howler or five the day they found out, so until then, Draco lived in peace.

"I've got one for Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said before taking a chunk out of her toast. "I can't wait for our marks to be announced this Thursday. I think I did well. Do you think you did well?"

"I always do well," he said, kissing her cheek.

She gave him a sidelong look and began eating the food off of her plate. "Not better than me, though."

"I might do better in Potions," he said. He took her chin and twisted her face towards him. Her cheeks were puffed out with ham, but he planted his lips firmly against hers anyway.

"Not possible," she said when he pulled away, swallowing her bite. She smirked. "If anything, our marks will be the same. But I won't get an E. So, congratulations on your O."

He couldn't help it. He gave her an incredulous laugh. "Confident you're getting an O, are you?"

She shrugged and went back to her food. She danced a bit in her seat, obviously full to the brim with energy. "I don't need to be humble for the sake of anyone else."

Draco shook his head and kissed the side of her head. He would never get enough of kissing her. "You should have been in Slytherin."

"Come off it," she said, biting into an apple. "You say that at least once per day."

"Let me live, Hermione."

Just then, a small brown owl flitted over their table, dropping a letter in front of Draco. He rescued it from his plate full of half-eaten food and opened it.

"Is that one from Healer Garrison?" Hermione asked.

"No," he said, and then he grinned. "It's from Mr. Morphinus at the potions shop."

Hermione gasped and snatched the letter out of his hands. "What does it say?! 'Dear Mr. Malfoy, I hope this letter finds you well. Congratulations on your graduation from Hogwarts school. After your excellent interview, your intriguing personal essay, and your wonderful letters, I am pleased to offer you the position of Apprentice Potioneer at the Diagon Alley Apothecary!' Draco! Merlin, this is wonderful! Oh, this is everything we hoped for!"

Hermione had been nothing but supportive from the very beginning, even when Draco had been embarrassed to tell her that his career options were highly limited due to his record. She hadn't judged him, made fun of him, or patronized him for his past mistakes, and had instead helped him come up with a list of possibilities. While he was mildly interested in curse-breaking, he'd settled upon the Apothecary because the owner was a good friend of his mother's and it had the option of an apprenticeship. If he stayed on that path, he could one day have his own potion shop. A quiet life selling potions was a bit of a dream for him after the chaotic life he'd led so far.

With Hermione at his side, the quiet life was all he needed.

Draco chuckled, casting around a few nervous glances as her outburst of joy drew attention. He wrapped his arm around her back as she threw her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses.

"Yes, it's good," he said. "The rest of the letter says that I'll hear from him soon about scheduling, but to enjoy graduation and Summer hols."

"I'm so proud of you, Draco," she said, handing him back the letter. There was a twinkle in her eyes that he recognized. "We're going to celebrate after breakfast, and I won't hear any dissent among the ranks."

"Well, you won't hear any complaints from this army of one, precious."

They held each other's gazes for a long moment, during which she popped a grape into her mouth a little slower than was normal. She let it linger on the swell of her lower lip and then blinked just as slow. He felt a stirring in his body and debated how angry McGonagall would be if he snogged Hermione at the table.

Later, he would have to sneak into her dorm and see how many times he could make her come before she could spell the word 'grape.'

"As soon as we return from France, my internship begins," she said, promptly shattering the tension. She went back to her food. "Don't let me forget to order a Portkey to New York from the Ministry before we go to Paris."

"I won't," he said, studying the side of her face. He wondered how he'd gotten so fortunate.

He waited while she scarfed down her food, and then they decided to take a stroll outside the castle. Hermione's DADA exam didn't begin until after 10:00AM, so they had a bit of time to spend together before he planned on walking her there.

When she was done, he took her hand and they made their way down the corridor.

"You aren't worried about me leaving anymore?" She looked up at him. "This was the first time you haven't snarked and snipped about it."

"About you leaving?" He shook his head. "I thought about it and mentioned it in the letter before last to Healer Garrison."

"Hm, I bet he had some good advice about that," she said, leaning into him and gripping his hand with both of hers.

"Yeah," Draco said with a short laugh. "He told me to leave you alone and let you live your life."

She gave him a stern look. "I highly doubt a Mind Healer with a Muggle and magical education told you to 'let me live'."

"He said . . . Something along those lines. I took liberties."

She wrinkled her nose. "You take a lot of liberties."

They stopped walking when they neared the exit to the courtyard, the large awning making way for a bright, clear June sky. He turned to face her, tugging on her hand until she fell against his chest.

"With you," he chanted, "I'll take any liberty I please."

"What did he really say?" she asked, squeezing his hand and placing her other hand on his chest. "Healer Garrison?"

"He told me to reflect on what's most important to me, and decide what I value the most: your freedom to explore your future, or my need to have you by my side. I used to be selfish, but I can't be selfish anymore. Not with you. I'd rather come visit you in America. It's not as if it would be difficult to pay for accommodations."

"And what did you decide was most important to you?" she asked, her eyelids fluttering.

He leaned down, his gaze bouncing back and forth between her lips and eyes. "You, Hermione."

Hermione pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, threading her fingers through Draco's hair as their tongues engaged each other in a dance that he knew well. Her kisses were always intoxicating, and they always left him wanting more.

The fire in his heart that she never allowed to die out flared hotter. He walked her backwards until her back was against the wall. He cupped her face with his hands. His head turned to the side, his tongue driving deep into her mouth to try and consume every last bit of her that he could. He was fine with her leaving, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to memorize the feeling of her lips before she left.

When he pulled back, she beamed up at him.

"I have one more rule to add to my list, Granger," he said, placing one hand on the wall by her head.

"And what's that?"

He gazed down into her eyes, his mind whirling as he tried to rearrange his thoughts into one coherent string of words that would depict exactly what he meant to say. He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb and then pushed her hair behind her ear.

"You have to promise me that you'll fall in love with me. Because I don't think I can spend the rest of my life without knowing that no matter where you go, you'll always come back to me. That you'll always be mine."

She blinked slowly, her eyelids dragging back upward as she tilted her head back. They swayed slightly, as though they were dancing like they had the night of the Easter gala, and she smiled. She smiled, and in her eyes, he saw the wishing stars that he'd given to her.

"I don't have family, or a lot of money. I don't have a claim to anything other than good marks and a love of reading. I have a cat that's half the size of me and two friends who absolutely despise you," she said. "But no matter where I go - wherever we go together - I can promise you my heart, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's own heart swelled bigger and bigger, until he felt like he wasn't even a Slytherin any longer. He felt like a damn Hufflepuff.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, and then he guided her lips to his.

He snogged the fuck out of her, and he didn't care if McGonagall walked out and threatened not to let them graduate. Hermione was his everything. A black hole could rip the Earth into shreds, and he would still be in love with her.

"What should we do about Potty and the Weaselbee, by the way?" he asked when they pulled away.

Hermione tapped her chin in a playful manner and then grinned.

"We wait for their Howlers."

He allowed his witch to take his hand and lead him out to the courtyard, and he felt content. When she glanced over her shoulder and gave him her smile - that smile, the one that she only ever showed to him when they were making love - he knew that everything had played out exactly as it was supposed to.

Draco Malfoy was used to wanting things.

He was used to watching everyone around him have their wishes granted, living their lives without the threat of pain or disappointment hanging over their heads. Watching his friends move on to promising futures that weren't bogged down by a record of his poor choices. Watching his mother throw herself into a new life full of promise and fulfillment. Watching people like Potter go on to achieve what he would never have in a career at the Ministry.

He wasn't used to feeling held. He wasn't used to feeling the security and solace of a loving touch. He wasn't used to caring so deeply for someone and having them return even a fraction of that for him to absorb. He'd once told himself that he deserved nothing good, and that the world would be better off without him in it.

Now, everything was different.

He had shed the suit of envy from around his heart, and he'd allowed Hermione Granger to cloak him in forgiveness. Ever since she gave him the gift of her trust, he couldn't remember what it felt like to be lonely. The person he wanted was a gift the fates had deigned to give to him, a gift that he finally felt he deserved.

He knew her birthday now. September 19th.

He knew her favorite color. Red.

He knew her favorite novel. Hogwarts: A History.

He'd loved her before he knew those things, and he loved her now.

Even though he had a lot of wounds in his heart to mend, and a Hell of a lot of scars tattooed on his spirit, he would keep trying every day. He would wake up every day that he could, and he would keep trying. One day, he knew the skies would be full of stars again. Stars that would finally, finally grant his wishes.

Draco no longer spent his days panicking, wondering what more he could do to become worthy. He no longer destroyed himself inside trying to be good enough for her.

He already was.

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