Requested oneshot for a dear friend of mine. I hope you love it.

September 19th, 1995

The dreams had started on the night of her sixteenth birthday.

She wasn't necessarily surprised. She'd been told practically since her arrival at Hogwarts that everyone had a similar one on their sixteenth birthday.

No, the dream wasn't what surprised her at all.

What did surprise her was who she dreamt about.

"Please, don't stop!"

"Never," he grunted, white-blonde locks falling over his eyes as he continued pounding into her.

He pushed her higher, higher, higher - until there was no where left to go but down - and she fell hard. Muscles tensing and spasming, cunt pulling his hard cock in, impossibly deeper, her shriek of pleasure muffled by his mouth as he claimed every sound as his own.

"You're mine."

The first time she had the dream she had tricked herself into believing that it didn't mean anything. That her muggle heritage had altered things for her, and maybe she'd have that dream on her seventeenth birthday instead.

Certainly Draco Malfoy couldn't be Hermione Granger's soulmate.

September 19th, 1996

After her seventeenth birthday had come and gone - and the dream persisted - she knew she could no longer deny the truth, but it didn't mean she had to act on it.

And she didn't.

She stuck to her studies and her friends and she and Ron even gave their relationship a go - not that the latter lasted longer than a few weeks.

But the more she tried not focusing on Draco, the more it seemed she did.

She caught his gaze lingering on her longer, steely gray eyes sliding over her skin and setting her on fire.

Of course he'd had the dreams too.

Neither acted on it, though.

September 19th, 1997

On her eighteenth birthday she had the dream in a tent while hunting for Horcruxes.

It was easier to push him from her mind without having the constant reminder around her in the halls at Hogwarts, and for that she was thankful.

Until that day at the Manor.

When the snatchers had brought her, Harry, and Ron in front of Bellatrix, the look on his face had been unplaceable.

When he had told his family that he wasn't sure if it truly was Harry, the look on his face had been blank.

When the deranged witch had found the sword in Hermione's possession, the look on his face - she could have sworn - was afraid.

When Bellatrix had begun carving that vile word into her skin, the look on his face had been clear as day - utter agony.

And then he was there, in her head, distracting her from Bellatrix's curses and taking some of her pain into himself.

And when she and her friends escaped, the look on his face was undoubtedly relieved.

September 19th, 1998

On her nineteenth birthday she didn't sleep.

The nightmares from the war overshadowed everything, and there was far too much to be done for anything that even resembled sleep to be attempted.

She surely would've forgotten her own birthday had Harry and Ron not gone to the effort to get her a cake, decorating the entire library of Grimmauld Place with balloons and streamers that acknowledged yet another year of life.

She drank herself silly with her friends, and when they'd all drifted off to sleep, she'd plucked a book from the many shelves and read until daylight began to filter through the large windows of the library.

She'd swallowed down a Pepper Up potion and pretended she'd awoken just a bit before her friends, ignoring the stab in her chest at having, for the first time since she was sixteen, missed the dream.

September 19th, 1999

She spent her twentieth birthday in the hospital after a rather bad potions explosion burned her right hand all the way up to her elbow.

She'd been delirious on pain potions and couldn't begin to determine whether or not Draco Malfoy was actually sitting at her bedside, but every time she would slightly emerge from her potion induced haze he was there, a messy blonde halo of hair surrounding a face that she just barely couldn't make out.

She didn't dream that night, but felt his presence nonetheless, and when he pressed the softest of kisses to her lips she would've bet her soul that it wasn't a dream.

But when she woke up the next morning he was gone, the chair at her bedside vacant - as though no one had been there at all - and she was too afraid to ask any of the Mediwitches who were on duty if they'd seen him there.

She figured that some things were better left unknown.

May 29th, 2001

It was a week before his twenty-first birthday that she received an owl.

A lavish black envelope with silver embossing that simply bore the name Granger.

She could pick out that elegant script anywhere though, and that's why she hadn't opened the letter until Ginny prodded her into it three days later.

The only thing inside was a card - an invitation to what was sure to be a lavish party thrown at the Malfoy's new property - and one word scribbled at the bottom in his penmanship:

Please.

June 5th, 2001

She truly hadn't planned on going, but that one word rang around her head for the remainder of the week, and she suddenly found herself outside the large wooden doors of Malfoy's home dressed to the nines in a gown she'd have to spend months paying off.

The party was admittedly more fun than she'd thought it'd be, and she almost forgot who the guest of honor was.

Until he was standing in front of her looking every bit as heartbreakingly handsome as he had the last time she'd dreamt of him.

Except better.

Her dreams could never truly capture every detail of his perfection.

"You came." his voice was soft but guarded, cool eyes tracing down her body in a slow perusal that should've offend her but did nothing more than light a fire in her veins the same as it did all those years ago in school.

She couldn't seem to find her voice, so all she did was nod, taking a sip of the champagne in her hand for something to do while she allowed herself to take him in. He was the same, but different.

He was a man. All grown up.

His hair was pushed back from his face, though it was long enough that she knew it would graze his eyebrows if he let it. His nose was strong and regal - and Merlin, finally matched the sharp, masculine features of his face.

And it directed her attention to his lips, pink and soft and just plump enough that she had to force herself not to lean forward and snog him like she'd thought of for years.

"I didn't think you would." he continued, stepping slightly closer to more easily be heard over the thrumming of the music that surrounded them.

"Neither did I."

Her admission was soft, but he heard it all the same, not the least surprised by her answer.

"Why did you?"

Her eyes flicked to his, arching an eyebrow as she levied her own question back at him, "Why did you invite me?"

He said nothing, eyes holding her captive as she tried to remember to breathe, and she didn't know who moved first, but suddenly their lips were touching and the world was exploding in vibrant bursts of color she'd never seen before.

And when he groaned in relief at her touch, his hand tangling into her curls as he pulled her impossibly closer, she couldn't remember why she'd been running from this for so long.

Never had an act ever felt so right.

When he pulled back from her lips he rested his forehead against her own, his eyes closed as it seemed he was trying to control the raging beat of his heart - or maybe that was just her.

"Please, Granger." he whispered, the words soft and filled with pain and a hidden longing that tore at her soul.

She knew what he was asking, but she didn't know that she could give it to him.

She had built her heart and soul back up from the ground after the war had taken nearly everything from her, and she was utterly petrified at the thought of inviting someone in to tear it all back down - however nonsensical the thought truly was.

"I...I..." I need to leave.

Those were the four simple words she needed to push past her lips - but couldn't.

Instead, she settled for a whispered, "Happy birthday, Draco." before pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek and disappearing from the ballroom.

September 7th, 2001

To his credit, he didn't try to contact her.

It had been months since his birthday, and now, with her twenty-second birthday looming around the corner, she felt that ache in her chest even more prominently than before.

She had wanted to explain everything to him that night on his birthday, but words had failed her. Being in his presence was overwhelming and all consuming and ever since they'd kissed she'd been lost.

His.

She just had no idea how to tell him. The timing never seemed right, and she wondered what she could even say after walking away from him that night. If he'd even still want her.

With another deep sigh she crumpled up the piece of parchment - the fourth piece of parchment where she'd attempted to give him an explanation - and chucked it into the bin.

Draco,

I'm sorry. I know the words mean fuck-all, but I have no idea what else to say.

How am I supposed to describe the utter fear that races up my spine at the thought of us? How am I supposed to describe the absolute pain that fills my chest every second of the day because I'm not with you? How am I supposed to describe how badly I want to be yours?

The war took nearly every ounce of happiness I had, and after finally managing to achieve some semblance of that again, I was terrified that if I let you in, you could destroy me all over again, but that wasn't fair of me to assume, because I know that you never would. I let old wounds keep me from living this new life.

A life that I'd very much like to live with you.

I've dreamt of you since I was sixteen, and I know you've done the same. I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like for you, especially given the war shortly thereafter. How angry, how confused, how afraid you must've been that someone would find out.

I'm sorry for never thanking you for what you did for me that night at the Manor. I'm sorry for trying to convince myself that our souls weren't hopelessly entangled. I'm sorry for letting my own fear chase me away from you on your birthday.

I'm also sorry if this letter is six years too late.

I know that you wanted me to stay, and I know that it broke your heart when I didn't.

I don't really know what I'm hoping to achieve with this letter, as I know I don't deserve your forgiveness for any of this, but I know that I have to try.

I'm yours, if you'll have me.

Hermione

September 18th, 2001

"Did you mean it?"

His voice jarred her from her thoughts, tea spilling from her mug and onto the small table beneath her as she looked up at him.

She was sure that the ever present bustle on the streets out front of the small cafe she was seated at continued as usual, but she couldn't hear anything over the beating of her own heart like hummingbird wings against her sternum.

"Yes," she whispered, her fingers gripping her cup tightly as she tried to still her shaking hands.

"Do you still mean it?" he asked, barely audible as emotion clogged his throat, his eyes searching hers, desperate for that one word.

"Yes," she said again, voice slightly stronger as she straightened her shoulders and set her mug down, "I do."

When he didn't say anything, she opened her mouth to continue.

"I'm so sor -"

The rest of her words were captured by his mouth as he leaned over the small table and kissed her.

And those damned colors were back, and even though her heart was in her throat she returned his kiss with equal passion, her hand tentatively sliding to his cheek.

The unsure motion drew a ragged groan from him, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her up so that she stood flush against him, every delicious curve pressed into his and gods, it was exactly as it should've been.

Utterly fucking perfect.

"Fucking finally." he choked out, ragged breath fanning against her neck as he wrapped his arms around her small form, her own arms twining around his shoulders and holding him tightly, not an atom of space left between the two.

And suddenly she was crying, apologies tumbling from her mouth like prayers as she begged him to forgive her through broken sobs.

He pulled back, just enough to cup her face in his hands, and said, "Granger, you don't have to keep apologizing to me. If I hadn't accepted I wouldn't be here - but," he continued, speaking over her attempt to interrupt, "I will always be here."

His words inspired a fresh wave of tears as she tugged him back against her, face buried in his chest as she murmured the only words that came to mind, "I love you."

She felt more than heard the broken sob that left him at her admission, his body visibly uncoiling as relief seemed to flood his being, and before she realized it he was apparating them away to his own flat.

And no sooner had they landed in his room, he had her back pressed against the nearest wall, his hands in her hair as he claimed her lips in a wild kiss full of six bloody years of pent up passion and anger and need.

And she returned every ounce of it.

He pulled back, their soft pants fanning against the others lips as his eyes blazed molten silver and he said, "I love you so fucking much."

His words were everything she'd wanted to hear and more, and the smile that broke across her face nearly took his breath away.

And suddenly there wasn't a need for other words.

His lips found hers again, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip and begging for entrance that she willingly gave, her hands tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

It wasn't long before impatient fingers were fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and he reluctantly pulled back from her lips.

"Are you sure, Granger?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a small smile gracing her features as she said, "I'm absolutely positive."

He groaned, immediately pulling her back into a kiss as his owns hands rid her of her shirt, dropping it to the ground a moment before his own joined it.

He couldn't help but marvel at her for a moment, her pert breasts on display, pebbled nipples aching for his touch - and who was he to deny her?

With a barely contained growl he closed his lips around her right breast, tongue flicking against the taut peak as he drank in her soft gasps, her hands coming up to tangle in his silken stands as he worshipped her body, one lick, stroke, and nip at a time.

The feeling of their magic dancing around them, crackling off one another, golden sparks meeting silver in a beautiful cacophony of color as their magical signatures tried to merge into each other only fueled the fire between their coupling.

She pulled his face back up, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss as she allowed him to tug her over to the bed, lightly pushing her shoulders so that she sat at its edge and was looking up at him.

"You're so beautiful." he murmured, fingertips trailing across her cheek, thumb brushing her bottom lip as she playfully flicked her tongue against the pad, relishing in the way his eyes darkened above her.

"Let me touch you." she murmured, her own hands coming up to skim along his abdomen, enjoying how his muscles tensed under her touch the lower she went.

"I -"

But his words died on his lips as she dropped to her knees before him, popped the button on his pants and pushed them - and his boxers - from his hips, his aching cock springing free and bobbing before her like a prize she couldn't wait to claim.

She leaned forward, one hand gripping the base of his cock as her tongue flicked out to tentatively swipe at the bead of precum that had gathered at the tip, and she couldn't help her soft sigh of relief when she finally took him into her mouth and his hand lightly tangled into her hair, a pleasured hiss leaving his lips.

"That's so fucking good, love." he growled, smoldering eyes holding her gaze as she felt him hit the back of her throat, eyes watering at the delicious burn.

She pumped her hand in time with her mouth, alternating between fast, shallow strokes, and slow, deep ones that had him throwing his head back and bucking his hips into her mouth.

Before she had the pleasure of watching him come undone he was pulling her up and shoving her back onto the bed, her back bouncing slightly at the force and she bloody loved it.

His silver eyes were molten pools of metal as he crawled over her body, wasting no time devouring her mouth, his hands divesting her of her remaining clothing with a simple spell until he could finally feel all of her flushed skin against his own.

He pressed sloppy, hungry kisses down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, across her abdomen until he was laying nestled in between her thighs, pressing teasing kisses to the sensitive skin there.

"Please," she whispered breathlessly, "Just fuck me, Malfoy."

He snorted, an amused smirk flitting across his face as he asked, "Would you really deny me the pleasure of tasting this pretty little cunt, Granger?"

Her stomach clenched at his words, toffee eyes dilating until there was more black than brown visible.

"No, I suppose not."

"That's what I thought." he murmured, slowly trailing the flat of his tongue up her dripping cunt, absolutely drowning in the way his name fell from her lips in a breathless pant.

He started slowly, teasing her with light touches and teasing flicks against her clit that did nothing more than stoke the fire within her even higher. And by the time he actually latched onto her clit, the tip of his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub as his hands held her hips against the bed, she was an utter mess.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," she gasped, the hand in his hair tightening to almost painful, as he felt her thighs beginning to shake, which only made him double his efforts to taste her release on his tongue - to shatter her completely.

"I - fuck - I'm coming."

And he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

Her back arched from the bed, her curly hair a halo around her, tops of her breasts tinted pink, as her mouth opened on a keening moan.

She was stunning.

And he told her as much.

Her blush was endearing as he kissed his way back up to her lips, and she couldn't deny she loved tasting herself there, mixed with the utter masculine taste of him.

"I love you, Hermione." he murmured, voice soft against her throat as he slowly pushed his way inside her tight cunt and completely stole her breath away, snatching any words she would've whispered back to him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, pausing as he allowed her adjust to him.

She was so fucking tight.

"You feel bloody perfect." he grunted, sliding out until he was almost entirely out, only the tip remaining, before he slid all the way back in, slowly stretching her, marking he, claiming her.

And their magic went crazy.

Bursts of color swirling in the air above them, around them, all consuming in its intensity as it coiled together, a beautiful dance that brought tears to her eyes - and even his were glassy with emotion.

Her hands were tangled in his hair, his face buried in her neck as he pressed heated kisses there, their chests pressed together as his slow strokes pushed her higher and higher toward an oblivion that she welcomed.

"I love you. Salazar, I love you." he murmured, fingers digging into her thigh as he hiked it higher on his waist, sliding even deeper, as though he wanted to mark her forever.

Maybe he did.

"I love you too." she panted, fingers tightening in his hair as her thighs began to shake, moans pouring unbidden from her mouth as he picked up his pace.

"I'm so sorry I ever ran from you." she gasped, eyes clouded with a mixture of sad and happy tears, "I'm so sorry I made you wait for me."

He shook his head, forcing tears from his own eyes as he said, "I would've waited my entire life for this moment, Granger."

She broke at his words, a gasp the only sound that passed her lips as she shook around him, her magic flaring, licking at his skin, and not even a moment later he was coming right along with her, the soft growl that left his throat music to her ears.

They were a tangle of limbs, basking in the afterglow of something more beautiful than either could articulate, and when Draco lifted himself up onto his forearms his smile nearly split his face when he noticed the beautiful silvery brand that was his magic tattooed directly over her heart.

And Hermione's smile was just as breathtaking when she noticed a beautiful golden brand that was her magic tattooed directly over his heart.

She lifted tentative fingers to trace the pattern, feeling her own magic sparking against her fingertips as she stared in awe, eyes flicking up to meet his.

His smile was shy, a boyish tilt to his lips that made her heart flutter in her chest because he was looking at her that way.

"It's my magic." she whispered, eyes full of awe as they flickered back down to the mark on his chest.

He nodded, bringing his own fingers up to trace the identical pattern on her chest, "And this is mine."

"I know." she murmured, "I feel it. Can you feel it too?""

The gentle thrum of his magic alongside hers was like coming home after a long day. It was like sinking into a warm bath or losing oneself in a great book.

It was perfect.

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead as he said softly, "It's like having the missing part of my soul back."

Her breath hitched at his words, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek as she whispered, "Thank you so much."

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand as he said, "No...I...after everything that happened...the war...I should've never expected you to -"

"That wasn't your fault." she interrupted, soothing his broken soul with her words alone, "And you saved my life that night."

"I should've done so much more." he whispered, one lone tear sliding down his cheek that she quickly swiped away the pad of her thumb.

"No more apologies." she said, her voice soft but resolute.

"A clean slate?" he offered, half smile lighting up his face as she nodded, pulling him down into a kiss that promised that, and so much more.

It certainly seemed that Draco Malfoy could be Hermione Granger's soulmate.

And she was so glad that he was.

Reviews are always welcome.