Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 8/10?
Title: Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 8/?
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 8:
Draco did not wake up to his wand trilling at him. Which meant it was Sunday, the only day he was ever allowed to sleep in. But the light through the window was dimmer than a morning glow, and he sighed, unable to turn off that annoying internal charm that woke him up.
And then he became aware of fingertips grazing at the bend of his hip, up and down, pressure along his hip bone, a soft touch of a palm over his morning erection. No wonder he woke up.
“Damn you to Hades, Potter,” Draco grumbled and tried to burrow back into his pillow.
Harry chuckled and added pressure to the touches. “Can’t keep my hands off you.”
“Going to hex you as soon as I can think straight.”
“You’d be expelled. I better keep that from happening,” Harry said and gripped his dick, mouth against his shoulder, and the blurry morning haze easily and eagerly morphed into an orgasmic euphoric haze.
As happened last night, his orgasm was accompanied by a cool brush of wind.
Draco smiled, pulled Harry around to kiss him senseless. He had every intention of staying just like that, maybe going for a second orgasm, and then Harry pulled away with a sigh.
“What?” Draco asked.
“Hermione is picking apart my wards.”
Draco chuckled. “But they’re strong, right?”
“Yeah, but she knows my magic, and she’s connected to it, too. So eventually she’ll break them.”
“Let’s go get in the shower then,” Draco said. “Cleaning charms are great, but I want hot water.”
“And me?”
Draco smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. “Definitely you.” He rolled out of the bed, felt a bit of compulsion to go open the door and lifted an eyebrow at Harry.
He smiled. “Feel that, do you?”
Draco nodded.
“Hermione is trying to use you to get through the door.”
“It’s disconcerting, Potter. It feels really ... weird.”
Harry nodded. “You do get used to it, but ... it is weird because you are not ... you’re not in the bond. Not like we are. Not even halfway. But ... it is weird. I do not understand how you can feel us, how you can sense her, how you can feel your wind, but not be part of the bond. Hermione is researching it.”
They entered the bathroom together, Draco going to the shower to turn on the water while Harry used the loo, and then they switched places. He slipped into the shower with Harry, hands immediately wrapping around his waist, face at Harry’s neck. He shut his eyes against the heated water spray.
Harry leaned back against him. “This is weird,” he said. “There is no way that I’d be alive if it wasn’t for your mum or you,. I just ... but you were such a little brat, and now I can’t even ... I can’t live without you, Draco. I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s a weird disconnect in my head. I’ve come to peace with it mostly. Hermione and Ron have not. Not completely.”
“I was a little shite. I know. I still ...” Draco took a very deep breath, careful with his words. “I’m still a Malfoy. I will always take pride in that, but if I ever have children, I want them to be proud of the name too. Right now, I cannot do that. I need to reform, but in what way? I have no desire to gain influence the way my father did. Most of those who followed him would have rather spat in his face. I want respect, but not from fear or coercion.”
Harry turned around in his arms, his own over Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll respect you more if you get on your knees and suck my dick.”
Draco laughed.
“Tit for tat,” Harry said and pulled away, pouting for a kiss.
Draco obliged. “I do owe you, don’t I?” he murmured against Harry’s lips.
Harry hummed in agreement.
Draco kissed him for a moment longer, wiping his hands up and down his back in a firm stroke. He kept them both under the water for a little longer, relaxing under the spray but growing hard under the influence of the kiss.
“Love kissing you,” Harry said with a happy sigh.
Draco smiled and finally pulled away. He kept his fingers light, a caress down Harry’s sides and then up his stomach and over his nipples. Harry shivered and said, “Please, please.”
He tightened his grip on Harry’s hips and lowered himself to his knees. He touched the fading bite mark at his hip first. “How did you get this?”
Harry swallowed roughly, eyes shutting to think. Draco moved his hand under Harry’s dick and cradled his bullocks.
“Shit ... Hermione,” Harry managed. “Ron was fucking her from behind and this is the result of her orgasm.”
“And triggered yours, I bet?” Draco prompted and licked it. He pumped Harry’s prick with a few firm tugs.
Harry gasped. “Yes.”
Draco sucked on the bruised skin harshly, biting down on the chunk in his mouth. Harry’s moan echoed around the stone walls, his hips bucked forward. He kept sucking until the faded mark flared purple and red again.
Smiling against his skin, Draco moved his mouth. He used his hand to pulled Harry’s cock down and then licked at the head for a moment, around the ridge, tonguing the slit. Fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, and Draco winced, unintentionally tightening his mouth around Harry’s dick, and Harry thrust, almost gagging him.
Draco pulled away and glared.
Harry’s smile was mostly repentant. With a huff, Draco went back to his dick, but this time, he pushed at Harry’s hips until his ass was on the cold stone wall behind him. The hot water hit their sides, and Draco shifted enough that it was not streaming right in his face. He held Harry firmly and sucked him down, gagging on his own at first before getting a feel for him. His dick was thick, with a slight bend near the head that made the soft crown slide over the roof of Draco’s mouth. Harry continued to pull his hair, his whimpers and gasps echoing around them.
Draco used one hand to grab at Harry’s balls and yanked them down at the same rhythm. Harry’s moans wavered between just noise and Draco’s name. His hands tightened, yanking on Draco’s hair, and then he was coming, shaking, shivering through his release that Draco was not expecting. He pulled off with a cough and felt the warm splatters on his cheek, chin and shoulder.
“S-sorry. Shit ... just .. fuck, Dray, I just ...” Harry slid down the wall and Draco hugged him close, still on his knees. Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, and it took a moment for Draco to realize that Harry was not kissing him but licking up his own come.
They sat in silence while Harry’s body stopped shaking.
“Sorry,” Harry said again. “I can’t ... I can’t control myself with you. My magic just ... I just ... I want you so badly.”
Draco pulled away and cupped his cheek before leaning into him for a soft kiss. “I want you, too. I do.”
“Do you want to be part of our bond?”
“It is too soon for me to answer that question, and I really need to read those things Hermione left for me.”
Harry sighed. “I know. I’m being completely unfair.” He tugged at Draco’s hair, yanking him back to his mouth. They stayed there and kissed until Draco’s knees ached on the hard stone floor.
“Come on, let’s get clean and find something to eat.”
“I am starving.”
“Me, too.”
“Mostly for your dick.”
Draco felt himself flush, but managed to stand up while Harry laughed at him. Harry’s hands were firm on Draco’s hips, his mouth warm just above Draco’s ass, and Draco shivered. Harry did nothing more than use his grip to stand and then wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and pressed a kiss to his back.
“Am I allowed to kiss you in the middle of the Great Hall yet?”
Draco paused in his washing for a moment, and then turned around to let Harry into the shower stream. He thought about that while rubbing Harry’s body with the soap.
“Just hearing you call me ‘mate’ has given most of them heart attacks,” Draco said. “I’m not sure we should finish them off and stun them dead.”
“Then I’m going to hold your hand.”
Draco smiled. “That’s okay. Shite, though, let me owl my mother today and warn her. She doesn’t need to hear about that from gossip.”
Harry laughed.
They finished their shower with wandering hands and a few heavy kisses. It was only the grumbling of both their stomachs that finally had them leaving the warmth of the bathroom. It took a few more kisses and some very strong self-discipline to keep them both from tumbling into a bed and never crawling out of it.
To Draco’s surprise, there was food again on the desk, underneath a warming charm. Harry put on nothing more than pants and then sat down to eat.
Draco wore a pair of his jeans and had just pulled a tight fitting T-shirt over his head when the door opened.
“Hi, Hermione,” Harry said, voice happy and innocent.
Hermione stood in the middle of their room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She wore a colorful dress with multiple patterns in white, teal, blue and green. It clung to her body, smooth over her hips, a bit loose over her chest. Draco was sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. She was barefoot, and her hair was loose and stylishly wild around her face.
“Harry James Potter. I am just ...”
It was Draco that moved over to her and shut her up with a kiss, sliding a hand around her waist. The dress was a clingy cotton that felt ultra soft under his fingertips as he rested them at the small of her back. “Good morning.”
Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut from the kiss. Her hands fluttered above Draco’s waist before settling at his sides. She smiled for the moment it took for their lips to part and her eyes to open. Then she remembered that she was upset and she scowled at him, pushing him away.
They laughed and she returned to standing with her hands on her hips. “You are ... both ... just ... how dare you, Harry. What if you had needed us?”
Harry smiled and kept eating.
“Apparently, all he needed was me last night.”
Hermione glared at him.
Draco fought the urge to flirt because he had no idea how she’d take it at the moment. Instead, he said, “I’m caught up enough on my homework to read those materials you gave me.” He waved his hand at his trunk where most of them sat. “Any suggestions on where to start?”
Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. “Gryffindor’s journal. It’s where I started.”
Draco nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“Dray, come and eat,” Harry said. “You’re starving.”
“I am starving.” He moved over to Harry and sat down, his stomach complaining loudly at the sudden smell of food.
Even if he was famished, he was not shoveling food into his mouth like Harry. Merlin, talk about horrific table manners.
Hermione sat on his bed and crossed her legs, the dress stretched over her knees. She stared at him with a harsh expression, and then a moment later, her cool blue magic wrapped around him. It did more than that, but Draco was not sure what as it sank into him and spread to his fingertips and toes.
“Just a diagnostics of sorts,” Hermione mumbled, feeling his trepidation.
It sort of tickled under his skin.
“Am I at death’s door?” Draco asked after a moment of silence. “Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man, is that it?”
“Did you just quote Muggle literature?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Do you really think William Shakespeare was a Muggle?” he countered with a grin. “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.”
Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide. “No way,” she almost whispered.
Draco shrugged. “There is no real proof in the Muggle world that he actually exists, now is there?”
“Goddamn,” Hermione gasped.
“I will have Mum send me some of his original works. We have a few in the Manor Library. I am sure she will not mind. She found the man’s plays to be trite and crude.”
Her eyes stayed open in shock.
Draco laughed. “Granger, your diagnostics?”
“O, speak to me no more--
Draco finished the quote with her, “These words like daggers enter my ears.”
They both laughed, Hermione leaning forward to press a hand to his leg. “You’re just fine. You aren’t dying. Everything is normal, which is why it’s weird that you’re already connected to us. For all intents and purposes, you aren’t there, you shouldn’t be there, and you shouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“Harry said I wasn’t in the bond yet, but it was starting to feel like it.”
Hermione nodded. “Perhaps ... Harry has always felt a connection to you, like I said before. This is just going to take time.”
Harry snorted. “Time? Really? More time? How much more time?”
“You’re impatient.”
“There is no way that time is going to connect him to us.”
“But there is a way for time to make me want it,” Draco said and continued to eat.
Harry growled and stood up, pacing around the room. Draco felt a tsunami of blue collide with Harry, strong enough that he staggered and had to grip a bedpost to keep from tumbling. He glared at Hermione.
“Calm down, Potter,” she all but snapped. “Draco will make his own choice and you will not influence it by being an impatient, arrogant, possessive prick!”
Harry fell back to the bed with a sigh, arms spread, chest and stomach still on display. Firm thighs, dusted with hair and scattered with scars.
“Sorry, Draco,” Harry whispered.
Draco glanced at Hermione. She was not satisfied with his apology. With a grin, he said, “So do you want to spend your Sunday rebuffing advances from randy lions or do you want to sit up here and read with me?”
Hermione laughed. “No contest, Draco. No contest.”
Harry grumbled through the rest of their breakfast that was almost lunch and then he pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek and Hermione’s lips and said, “Have fun doing work on a bloody Sunday, nerds.”
“We will,” Hermione said with a laugh. Harry shot her the two finger salute as he went out the door.
Draco took the books and journals and put them on the bed. He sat near the pillows and Hermione sat near the end of the bed, leaning against one of the posts.
“Start with this one,” Hermione said, handing him a thick book bound in leather. It had Gryffindor’s lion embossed on the front. He touched it and the lion moved, its mouth opening in a silent roar.
“Wow. Brilliant,” Draco said.
Hermione nodded. “I’d hoped to find one of the others’ personal journals too, but no luck with that yet. I asked Helena Ravenclaw’s ghost if her mother kept a journal, but that woman refuses to say anything. Again.”
“Again? And wait? What? There is a Ravenclaw ghost is here?”
Hermione bit her lower lip and winced. “Shite. That was a secret ... sorry. I wasn’t ... anyway. She is Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter. And yes, she’s here. The Grey Lady.”
Draco stared at her. “And again? What does that mean?”
“She was instrumental in helping Harry find a Horcrux so he could defeat Voldemort, but she sure as hell took her precious time about giving up information.”
“Wow. What other secrets do you lot know about Hogwarts?”
Hermione grinned. “A lot.” She pointed to the book. “You should start reading.”
Draco stared at her for another moment and then huffed and opened the journal. The very first page said, “Greetings, Sire of Slytherin. It appears that you are not worthy to read the words within this book. Kindly remove your snakey face. Regards, Godric.”
Draco snorted. “What a tosser.”
Hermione tilted her head in question and said, “What?” as she leaned over the journal. “There’s ... it’s just talking about his day. How is that offensive?”
Draco looked up at her and then back down at the journal. He read the message out loud.
Hermione laughed. “It’s like the Marauders all over again.”
“Marauders?” Draco said. “Oh, right, McGonagall told me to ask about them. She said she hasn’t had so much trouble with students--talking about you three, of course--since the Marauders. But she didn’t say who they were.”
Hermione rose from the bed and went to Harry’s trunk. “Harry definitely will not mind me showing you this. It’s sort of like a family heirloom.” She opened the trunk and tutted, hands on her hips. “This boy, I swear, he just ... such a mess.” She held out her hand a small bit of parchment rose into it, expanding as it went. She came back to the bed, a sinister smile on her face, and handed the parchment to him.
“There’s a secret to this, but I really want to see what they’ll say to you, so I’m not going to tell.”
“What?” Draco said, taking the parchment.
It was old and looked frail. Definitely worthy of the bin.
“Open it,” Hermione said.
Draco saw no visible way to do so since it was just a single piece of parchment, so it obviously needed magic. He took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the parchment.
“Open up.”
Scrolling ink covered the parchment.
Messers Moony and Padfoot would ask that you kindly take your selfish, slimey, smelly Slytherin hands off this.
Another scroll almost sliced across it.
And Mister Prongs would like to hex your grubby Malfoy face for even thinking you could touch it.
Hermione laughed.
Draco stared.
“Try another one,” Hermione suggested.
Draco cast a revealing spell on it.
Messers Moony and Wormtail are insulted that you think we did not think to charm this against such a low level spell. And Messers Prongs and Padfoot would like to demand that you once again take your snakey, cowardly, repulsive, Slytherin hands off our parchment.
“Oh, this was so worth it,” Hermione gasped through her chuckles.
Another message scrolled over the page: The spawn of Malfoy will never be worthy enough to see our secrets. Good day to you.
Messers Padfoot and Prongs hope that you fall in the Great Lake and become food for the Giant Squid.
Messer Moony hopes not because snake meat probably doesn’t taste good and he does not want the Giant Squid to suffer like that.
Draco stared up at Hermione with wide eyes. “What the bullocks?”
Hermione laughed. “The Marauders’ Map.”
She took the parchment from him, tapped it and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Before Draco’s eyes, the parchment expanded and opened and twisted until a map of Hogwarts spread open between them. “How ... is this ... wow. I knew that Harry was getting away with shite somehow. Between this and his Invisibility Cloak, he’s almost untouchable. Little wanker.”
Hermione smiled. “Yes. This map saved his life more than once. These men, they were all students here. Moony is Remus Lupin. He was a werewolf, you know. He was friends with Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter.”
“Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail,” Draco said. “And Harry’s Patronus is a stag, so Prongs is James, and Padfoot is Sirius Black?”
“Yes. The three of them learned to be Animagi in their fifth year to help Remus during the full moons. James was a stag and Sirius was a big black dog.”
“Wow.” Draco leaned over the map. It was open to where they were, in the Astronomy Tower. He noted the feet and names. Filch was near the library and Mrs. Norris was prowling near the kitchens. “It shows every single person.”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Sixth year, Harry poured over this map, looking for you. It doesn’t show who is inside the Room of Requirement, because that room is unplottable, but when you came out of it ... well, it’s how he always seemed to know where you were. That year did not start the obsession he had with you, but it sure compounded it.”
Draco bit his lip and turned away. “Shite, that was so stupid, Hermione. I just ... I should have ...”
She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. In the tense silence, she suddenly laughed.
“What?” Draco asked, looking at her.
She tapped a part of the map, and Draco leaned over to read it. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were in what Draco assumed by the map to be Ron and Neville’s room. Their names were practically on top of each other.
Draco smiled. “Like I said. Randy Lions.”
Hermione tapped the map again and said, “Mischief managed,” and the map folded back down to a spare bit of parchment. “Harry got this from Fred and George Weasley. I don’t really know why they gave it to him. I think they developed their own that was a bit better. I’m not sure if there is a password or something on Godric Gryffindor’s journal that will allow you to read it. I can read it outloud if you want.”
“Sure.”
“Or I can put it in my lap and see if that will let you read the words ...” She turned around on the bed and propped open the journal on her legs. Draco scooted close to her, a hand on the bed on her other side and leaned over her shoulder. Her hair tickled his face.
But he could see the words now.
As Hermione said, it was just discussing his day. The first page said, “Journal #289 of Sir Godric Gryffindor, est. 1013.”
The English was a bit difficult to understand at first, but Draco had spent many hours during his summers reading ancient texts written in Old English. He grew used to the language difference easily.
Most of the first entry was about the joy he found in watching his students learn. There was a paragraph that said, “Seeing their faces, seeing their joy is what lessens the pain in my chest, lessens the ache in my soul. Magickally, we may still feel whole, but there is still a wide hole in my entire being which misses the one meant to fill it. I promised myself that this journal would be free of him just like our lives are free of him, but I should have known better. How dare he! Alas, he will forever be with us. Somewhere.”
Hermione read a little faster than him, but Draco attributed that to her having read it before, not because she was better than him. Definitely not. When she was ready to turn the page, she touched the corner, and Draco made a noise that signaled he was ready. They read this way for almost an hour before Draco’s arm decided to go numb and his back reminded him that he should not be hunched over for so long.
“I’ve always seen Godric as some ridiculous hero, charging in with his sword drawn,” Draco whispered as he leaned back. “But he’s so full of emotion.”
“I can sympathise to a point,” Hermione said. “I know that I would die if Harry or Ron were not with me. It’s why we wanted a bond that took away that option.”
“Are you sure that’s going to happen?” Draco asked. “I mean, the four Founders did not die all at once.”
Hermione sort of smiled. “They may have. It’s been a long time since then. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were in isolation at the time of their deaths. There’s ... well, not any evidence that Gryffindor and Slytherin didn’t die at the same time. Nobody knows when any of them died. Here.” She handed him a strange journal of sorts with white sheets of thin parchment and a metal spiral down the side. “My notes.”
Draco settled it on his knee. “Is this going to insult me if I try to read it?”
Hermione laughed. “No, but I can if it makes you feel better. What did I call you? A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.”
Draco snorted. “Please don’t punch me again.”
With a little smile, she said, “You want my hands on you, Draco. Just admit it.”
“Yes. All over. Really.”
Their eyes met and pure, magical lust flared blue from Hermione. Draco felt himself sway as it hit him, biting his lip against a moan.
“Read, you prat.”
Draco blinked, trying to get rid of the feeling. He shifted himself in his jeans, catching her little smile. She was looking down at Gryffindor’s journal. Her hair was falling over her shoulder, and she moved it behind an ear, baring her slightly pink cheeks. It looked like she was breathing deeper than usual.
Smirking, he looked down at the journal. Notebook. Right. Muggle journal. A Muggle thing. A notebook. Ew.
With a sigh, he opened the flimsy blue cover and started reading Hermione’s notes.
Aug 3 - I feel weak and unbalanced. It is taking a lot of effort to write this down. Ron and Harry have given up on writing their feelings. They are curled up together on the couch. Ron might be crying, but I am too focused on these words to do anything else. My fingers are shaking. My magic is shaking. It’s the only way I can describe it. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But even as I think that and I look over at Ron and Harry, I know it was. I can feel them. We are not next to each other, but I can feel Ron’s heated skin and Harry’s happy smile.
Aug 4 - Shite. We’ve been doing nothing but sleep and eat for days. Ravenous. Like a half-crazed bull kept too long in its pen. And Harry can’t keep control of his dick. But that makes it seem like that’s a new occurrence. Harry will always want an orgasm, magical bond or not. Ron is more than happy to oblige him, but afterwards, we just eat and sleep again. I don’t feel like things have settled. Not completely. When I look into our magicks, I can see how we’re together, twisting and spinning. I can feel Harry and Ron almost as well as I can feel myself. It’s amazing. Simply crazy.
Aug 5 - Harry almost scared us to death today by summoning coats for us without his wand and ending up almost destroying our closet when all of our clothes flew out of it and into the room. Ron has never even managed a simple nonverbal spell, and now he can light a fire without thinking about it. I can just as easily conjure water and douse it. Harry is making plants and flowers grow in his room. It’s ... it’s a lot of fun, actually. It feels like it’s supposed to be too serious to be fun. We can do so many magical things that we were unable to do before. Every hour we practice another nonverbal spell. Everything has energy that we can manipulate. Everything. And that’s how we do it. Manipulate its energy. It is hard to stop using magic now. Between the three of us, we can make the best tea in all of England.
Draco snorted.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“The best tea in all of England, huh?”
Hermione laughed. “Yes. When Ron and Harry are done shagging, I’ll show you.”
“That won’t be anytime soon.”
“No, probably not, so you better keep reading.”
Draco smiled and went back to the notebook. Hermione had written all the nonverbal and wandless magic she was able to do, and all the magic she observed Ron and Harry doing. A little over a week into the journals, Hermione’s tone changed from hopeful to hopeless.
I do not understand. I lay awake, between the two men that I love and I feel empty. This was supposed to fix something. This was supposed to remove the worry and fear of ever being alone. I mentioned it to the other two, just because it’s hard to hide things from them anyway. Harry had frowned at me, looking away. A good sign that he was feeling the same. Ron said I was crazy. I will ask them about it tomorrow. Since I cannot sleep, I am going to go into the other room and work on controlling this magic. It spins and twists inside me. And outside of me. Sometimes, things grow damp after I have walked by. And earlier I ended up soaking through the couch when I only sat upon it to be near Harry. I hope that Ron doesn’t randomly start burning things. I need to control it soon, so I can teach the other two before disaster strikes.
“Here,” Hermione said and handed him a notebook with a green cover. “This one is Harry’s. He didn’t really start writing in it until about a week after we bonded.”
Draco took it with interest and started reading. The first few entries were single lines or a paragraph. Nothing like the length of Hermione’s. But on the third page was this entry: I cannot tell Ron or Hermione. I just can’t. Our bond is so new, so precious, so fulfilling. I cannot tell them that I feel like someone is missing from it. If we had needed a fourth person, the bond would not have worked.
There was an empty line, and then words in a different color ink: Hermione is feeling the emptiness too. What would she say if she knew what I knew, if she knew that I knew who was supposed to be here?
I had a nightmare. Of vines trying to wrap around me. A silvery wind saved me.
Another nightmare. This one of fire. Lots of fire. Like the Fiendfyre. Again. Wind. Silver wind saved me. And Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The wind saved us both because I didn’t have a broom this time. Everything in the Room of Requirement was burning. The wind. It swirled around us, keeping the fire away. This is the fourth dream I’ve had with Malfoy in it. What am I supposed to tell the other two? How can I tell them this? How is it even possible?
Keeping secrets has never been my strong suit. With both Hermione and Ron glaring at me while brushing away their worry, I had to come clean. Ron, as I thought, almost set the room on fire. He hates Draco with a passion. I mean, so do I. Although, I don’t much care anymore. It all makes no sense anymore and Draco had been absolved of his part in the War. Forgiveness, Hermione said, though she isn’t too keen on the idea either. I have dreams of Draco every night. Every single night. Not all of them are scary. But that almost makes them worse. I woke up almost crying from a dream of the two of us, just laying on a grassy hill with our hands clasped together and a soft summer breeze blowing over us.
Once again, Hermione and Ron don’t believe me. They don’t trust me. They don’t understand. This bond was supposed to make us inseparable. This bond was supposed to show me how much the two of them care about me. All it has done is shown once again that the two of them belong together and I belong somewhere else. Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. The more I think about it, the more I dwell on it, the more Draco Malfoy makes sense. I’ve tried to explain to Ron, but he just shuts down or yells when I mention it. Hermione at least sort of listens to me. She thinks it’s because I used his wand. I think it’s because I’ve always been drawn to him. Always. Since that very first day in Madame Malkins. Hell, I was an arrogant snot to him back them, just like he was to me, but he at least had attempted some form of friendship. What would have happened if I had let the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin?
“So what is this about Harry almost being Sorted into Slytherin?” Draco asked.
Hermione smiled over at him. “It’s really all your fault. Hagrid had saved him from his aunt and uncle, and the first thing you did was insult Hagrid. You were the second wizard he’d ever met and then on the train you went and insulted Ron. It was all rather childish since ... well, we were children. You’d been sorted into Slytherin almost right before him, and he begged the Sorting Hat not to put him there. The Sorting Hat told him over and over that he had the ambition for it, that he had the drive. But, well, tossed him into Gryffindor instead.”
“That’s crazy,” Draco said.
“So is an elemental bond. Crazy just follows Harry around.”
Almost as if that was a cue, food suddenly appeared on the desk.
“The castle loves him,” Hermione said. “Even while we were rebuilding, Harry would forget to eat and food would just appear. It is a good time for a break. We’ve been reading for hours already.”
Draco was startled to find out she was right. He finished reading Harry’s sparse journal entries (mostly about him and the wind) while they ate lunch. Hermione showed him only one page of Ron’s that said, “Draco Malfoy is a fucking arsehole and I don’t care what Harry said, I am not connecting myself to that snake.”
“How did you convince him?”
Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t. Harry did. They refuse to tell me what they talked about. It was only a couple weeks before term started. Harry had a burn on his hip that he refused to let me heal afterward. After that, Ron still refused to believe it, but in a less vocal way. And then he had his own dream. Again, he won’t tell us what happened. Maybe he’ll tell you. He just said the next day that he was willing to believe it if only for Harry’s sake.”
After lunch, Hermione asked, “Remember a few days ago at lunch, when you had those elemental feelings?”
Draco smiled. “Yes.”
“You said something, while you were mostly asleep.”
Draco thought about that and remembered that Hermione had been shocked and Harry had smiled widely at him. “What did I say?”
“Aer enim est fons vitae.”
Draco’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “Air is the fountain of life.”
Hermione smiled and pulled a small parchment from one of her journals. She handed it to him. He took it gingerly, the page was brittle, but it shimmered with the same preservation charm as that on Whetle’s ancient book.
The process of the bond.
“It’s what you’re supposed to say, to trigger the magic. Harry said it during the ritual, which is why we also think the bond worked, but there’s absolutely no way you would have even known this phrase existed without being part of the bond.”
Draco stared down at the parchment. The writing was again old and hard to decipher. It took a few minutes to switch his brain over to the older version of English mixed with Latin.
There were strict instructions on creating a complicated magic circle on the ground with a mixture of crushed trimonion berries, a certain type of heavy clay, and ashes from burnt trimonion berry leaves, and pure water at a certain temperature. Incantations had to be said at exactly the right time for the circle to close properly. Within the circle were four equidistant points, each one marked with a pewter goblet. The same mixture was added to a complicated bonding potion. At exactly the same moment, fresh blood had to be drawn from each participant and dripped into the goblets. Just five drops. In tandem. Half of the contents of each goblet had to be consumed exactly five minutes before the ritual at exactly the same time by the participants.
Each elemental said a phrase in Latin. “Earth is the beginning of life. Fire is the fuel of life. Water is the basis of life. Air is the fountain of life.”
The four participants then were to be individually restrained right in the center of the circle and brought to orgasm, their fluids added to their goblets. The rest of the mixture of the potions was to be added to goblets and then each participant drank the mixture from each goblet.
The very last paragraph on the parchment was a dire warning of what happened to the participants if anything went wrong or if they attempted to do this with less than four people.
Draco’s head was spinning at the complicated requirements in the process.
“Hey, Draco,” Hermione whispered.
Draco jerked in surprise, his mind entranced by the complexity of the ritual he was reading. “Huh?”
Hermione bit her lip and muttered something that sounded like “Sod it.” She tossed the journal she had been reading aside and crawled over to him. Crawled. At first she looked a bit unsure and then her smile twisted into a smirk when Draco was unable to do anything but stare. The dressed drooped low, almost revealing the nipples of her pale breast.
“Put that aside, please,” she said. “I’m not sure it is going to survive what I have in mind right now even with the preservation charms.”
Swallowing roughly, Draco did so as Hermione climbed into his lap. Her hands went to his hair, pulling his head back and then she kissed him, deep and needy all at once.
“It’s amazing how attractive you are when you’re studying,” she whispered when she pulled away for a moment.
“I am always attractive,” Draco said.
She laughed and went back for a kiss. She slid her hands down his back and gripped the T-shirt. He lifted his arms and let her pull it over his head. The T-shirt hadn’t even landed to wherever she threw it before she was shoving him to the bed and attacking his neck and shoulders with her mouth.
Draco half chuckled and half moaned. It had always riled him up faster when a girl was eager. He hated taking time to more or less convince a girl. Guys were always much easier.
He also hated it when he couldn’t get his hands in a girl’s hair, so the first thing he did was grab the thick band holding Hermione’s hair up and tugged on it. It took a fair amount of concentration not to yank her hair out when Hermione decided to lick at his nipple. With a gasp, Draco managed to get the hair tie out and then tangled his hands through her hair and guided her back up to his lips.
He slowed them down with a heavy kiss, running his fingers through her hair and then down her neck.
She sighed and settled against him, bodies twisted to the side enough to stay pressed together and kiss. Draco kept one hand in her hair and slid the other down her body, over the soft material of her dress and down to where it had ridden up over her thigh.
“Are you going to ward the door and keep me all to yourself?” Draco murmured against her lips.
“Already did,” she returned.
Draco chuckled.
“Are you going to take my dress off?”
Draco bunched up the bottom of the dress and tugged it up. She lifted her arms just long enough for Draco finish lifting it high. His earlier observation was right. Hermione was not wearing a bra, and as he pulled the dress over her head, she took off her panties. He was not able to admire because as soon as she was naked, Hermione was kissing him again, hands pulling at his shoulders and legs wrapping around him.
Draco did not mind at all and let his hands do the admiring instead of his eyes. Her skin was almost as soft as the dress. It shivered under his touch.
She pushed his shoulder back to the bed and then climbed over him, straddling him. Hands on his chest, she twisted against his crotch with a low whimper. Draco gripped her hips, matching her move for move.
“Are you going to take my jeans off?” he asked.
Hermione bit her lower lip. “Sure I can just rub myself off like this.”
“And what about me?”
She smiled, slow and sexy. “I can definitely get you off just like this.” She pressed a bit harder, and Draco throbbed.
Damn witch was right.
But he wasn’t going to let her prove it. With a bit of a growl, he pushed her off him (and her subsequent laughter let him know that she knew that he knew that she was right). He sucked in his stomach and yanked on the buttons, releasing enough to push his jeans and pants down his legs. Hermione sat back up, helping him peel them off.
“Getting clothes off is step one.”
“What is step two?” Hermione asked.
“Depends on if you’re fucking Harry and Ron.”
“They do have a tendency to speed things up.”
“Are you open with them, tell them what you want and need?”
“Mostly the bond does that.”
Draco smirked. “Their loss, I guess. It’s really sexy to hear a girl talking about what she wants.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed.
“I guess I’m not being fair to them,” Draco continued, twisting the nipple a bit harsher. “I mean, you are the only girl they’ve been with, and as Harry so eloquently pointed out before, I am a bit a slag. That just means I know things.”
“And how long do I have to lay here and listen to your self-praise before you actually do things?”
Draco laughed.
“So what will this be? A quick fuck or ... ” She trailed a hand down her stomach.
Draco watched, throat going tight and then had to cough before he managed to reply. And her smirk. Again. Merlin, she was sexy. “Well, I guess this is me reviewing what I learned before. It’s been ...” Draco stopped and had to think of the last time he’d been with a girl. Pansy probably. Sixth year, maybe. Sixth year was still a bit of a stressful blur. “... awhile since the last time I was with a bird and not a bloke.”
She smiled. “I am incredibly angry about that, you slag. The ... it’s strange how much anger flares inside me thinking of you with other people.”
“In the past,” Draco said and finally rolled over to curl around her. “So let me show you what I remember.”
He kept himself propped up next to her and leaned down for a light kiss. A light kiss that masked the movement of his arm so the caress to her stomach was a bit of a surprise. She breathed in through her nose deeply and then tangled her hands in his hair to deepen the kiss. He let her for a little while and then slowed it back down. His hand did not move from her stomach, sliding up almost to her breasts and then sliding down almost between her legs. Her breathing sped up, her tugs on his hair grew more insistent, and she spread her legs in invitation.
One that Draco did not take. Not completely. He did love to tease.
She grew frustrated, but her moans were mostly in pleasure, so he kept kissing her, kept touching her, until his hand was brushing over the short strands of hair between her legs. But still just brushing, a whisper of a touch down her inner thighs.
“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” she gasped. “Please.”
So he stopped teasing her with his hands and used his mouth instead, starting at her neck and moving south. Her hands finally left his hair and she started digging her fingers into his shoulder and arm, pushing him down.
A strong pulse of compulsion had him moving for a moment, to obey, and then he shook his head and glared up at her. She smiled, unrepentant.
“None of that, Miss Granger,” he said with a light smack to her bare hip.
Her eyes shut with a small sigh. “Please.”
“Soon.”
He went back to his light touches, along her stomach first and then down her thighs, fingertips grazing more sensitive skin. He finally allowed her to spread her legs and then moved his mouth lower. With fingers grazing inner thighs, he licked down her stomach. He strengthened his touch, gripping the shivering muscles and then teased more with his tongue, along the crease of leg and stomach, not going lower until her pleas were almost too loud and almost too desperate. With fingers tangled firmly in his hair, Hermione yanked and started cursing.
That was good.
Draco shifted down the bed, between her legs. She almost screamed, “Finally,” and spread her legs, lifting them and curling her hips up.
Draco laughed. “Patience, darling.”
She growled. Actually growled and then used her own fingers to play with herself, slide down and into her body that was already so wet.
Draco hummed in appreciation and watched as she rubbed her clit.
“You know, if I wanted to get myself off, I would have gone to Ron and Harry,” she said.
Draco chuckled, using his fingers to tease her inner thighs. “Patience, Granger. The girl is the one that knows her body the best. I call this research.”
She huffed at him, but kept playing, her eyes fluttering closed, her fingers pressing a bit firmer. She liked to tease herself, Draco could tell. She’d wait until her thigh muscles tightened and her body shifted and then she’d slow down, take her finger off her clit and slip into herself a few times.
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
She snored. “Fuck that. Come on. Please.”
Draco spread his fingers over her thighs and pushed, shifting forward. She moved her hand, sliding it over his neck and into his hair, leaving a wet trail behind. He moaned and followed her lead, followed her physical commands, and put his mouth to her.
There would be time to devour her later. There’d be time to fingerfuck her three deep and suck on her clit as she screamed. But later.
For now, he teased. He spread her open, fingers soft at the edge of pink skin and swirled his tongue just to under her clit. Her moan echoed through the room. He did it again, going higher to just flick over the over-sensitive spot. Her thighs quivered around his head and he felt her pulsing where his hands settled. Another lick, a bit firmer, and he followed it with a finger, sliding through wetness and then sinking in. She gasped, tightening up and Draco withdrew the finger, keeping just the tip teasing the clenching muscles. He shivered too because he couldn’t wait to sink into those muscles and feel the way she shuddered around his dick. He concentrated on her clit with his tongue and mouth, licking and then sucking. It was hard to stay patient, hard to be in control, hard with the way she was moaning and tugging at his hair and crying his name.
And hard. Shit, he was hard and he let himself rut against the bed for a little while, just to tease himself. He was not going to last long inside her. Not long enough for her to come from his dick. He had to get her to the edge. But he had to remember his moves too. Nothing special. Most girls got off from repetition and consistency, not fast changes or bursts of power.
Power. Magic.
Draco wondered ... he kept his finger buried inside her, not moving it. With his mouth on her clit, tongue just moving around, he called his magic. He was not sure how to explain it, but it was like he had a wand in his hand. He was aware of his magical core when he thought this way.
Energy, Hermione had said. It was just manipulating energy. And her muscles were indeed shaking from energy.
He felt the tingle on his finger, and she screamed.
Just screamed. Her entire body shook, back arching off the bed, and Draco winced as his hair was pulled. Her body shuddered and fell, her chest gasping.
“Again, again,” she demanded. “Draco fuck, Again. More.”
He had to pull away from her clit and from the sweet taste that made it easier to slip in two fingers. He did whatever he did again, less reluctantly, letting magic through him like he would with a wand.
And Hermione screamed again. Her reaction even more violent. She was panting, his name broken and then she was almost sobbing.
“Fuck me, fuck me ... one more ... wait ... just ... Shite, Draco. Shite. I need ...”
Draco twisted his fingers as he pulled them almost free and her body clenched down on them. He pushed them back in and opened his mouth to lick at her and lick her up. Everything was delicious and fresh and clean, like her water. Like her magic. Like her soul. He shoved a third finger into her before letting his magic free again.
And the bed curtain whipped in a cool wind. Their hair twisted in the silent storm. Draco found himself on his back and thought his own wind had put him there before Hermione was straddling his lap. Her hand was already slick with oil wrapping up and around him. He gasped, knees bending.
She huffed in frustration and then held him still and sank down on him. Faster than Draco had planned.
“Fuck. Sodding ... fuck,” Draco gasped and tried to get the girl to fucking stop for a moment. She didn’t, her hands on his chest, her hips rising and falling fast and her head tilted back. Draco watched her swallow, watched her breast heave with her deep gasps.
“Again. Magic again,” she said.
With hands on her hips, Draco pulled at his magic. This time, the wind came with rain, and Hermione cried out, body arched back away from her, wetness gushing from her in time to her orgasm, and Draco came, adding to the mess, adding the screams, adding to the elements that soaked them through and then warmed with the wind.
Hermione fell on top of him, and Draco had just enough mental fortitude to wrap his arms around her before he blacked out.
Part 9: A Better Week
Part 7: Sexy Strategy
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
.
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 8:
Draco did not wake up to his wand trilling at him. Which meant it was Sunday, the only day he was ever allowed to sleep in. But the light through the window was dimmer than a morning glow, and he sighed, unable to turn off that annoying internal charm that woke him up.
And then he became aware of fingertips grazing at the bend of his hip, up and down, pressure along his hip bone, a soft touch of a palm over his morning erection. No wonder he woke up.
“Damn you to Hades, Potter,” Draco grumbled and tried to burrow back into his pillow.
Harry chuckled and added pressure to the touches. “Can’t keep my hands off you.”
“Going to hex you as soon as I can think straight.”
“You’d be expelled. I better keep that from happening,” Harry said and gripped his dick, mouth against his shoulder, and the blurry morning haze easily and eagerly morphed into an orgasmic euphoric haze.
As happened last night, his orgasm was accompanied by a cool brush of wind.
Draco smiled, pulled Harry around to kiss him senseless. He had every intention of staying just like that, maybe going for a second orgasm, and then Harry pulled away with a sigh.
“What?” Draco asked.
“Hermione is picking apart my wards.”
Draco chuckled. “But they’re strong, right?”
“Yeah, but she knows my magic, and she’s connected to it, too. So eventually she’ll break them.”
“Let’s go get in the shower then,” Draco said. “Cleaning charms are great, but I want hot water.”
“And me?”
Draco smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. “Definitely you.” He rolled out of the bed, felt a bit of compulsion to go open the door and lifted an eyebrow at Harry.
He smiled. “Feel that, do you?”
Draco nodded.
“Hermione is trying to use you to get through the door.”
“It’s disconcerting, Potter. It feels really ... weird.”
Harry nodded. “You do get used to it, but ... it is weird because you are not ... you’re not in the bond. Not like we are. Not even halfway. But ... it is weird. I do not understand how you can feel us, how you can sense her, how you can feel your wind, but not be part of the bond. Hermione is researching it.”
They entered the bathroom together, Draco going to the shower to turn on the water while Harry used the loo, and then they switched places. He slipped into the shower with Harry, hands immediately wrapping around his waist, face at Harry’s neck. He shut his eyes against the heated water spray.
Harry leaned back against him. “This is weird,” he said. “There is no way that I’d be alive if it wasn’t for your mum or you,. I just ... but you were such a little brat, and now I can’t even ... I can’t live without you, Draco. I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s a weird disconnect in my head. I’ve come to peace with it mostly. Hermione and Ron have not. Not completely.”
“I was a little shite. I know. I still ...” Draco took a very deep breath, careful with his words. “I’m still a Malfoy. I will always take pride in that, but if I ever have children, I want them to be proud of the name too. Right now, I cannot do that. I need to reform, but in what way? I have no desire to gain influence the way my father did. Most of those who followed him would have rather spat in his face. I want respect, but not from fear or coercion.”
Harry turned around in his arms, his own over Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll respect you more if you get on your knees and suck my dick.”
Draco laughed.
“Tit for tat,” Harry said and pulled away, pouting for a kiss.
Draco obliged. “I do owe you, don’t I?” he murmured against Harry’s lips.
Harry hummed in agreement.
Draco kissed him for a moment longer, wiping his hands up and down his back in a firm stroke. He kept them both under the water for a little longer, relaxing under the spray but growing hard under the influence of the kiss.
“Love kissing you,” Harry said with a happy sigh.
Draco smiled and finally pulled away. He kept his fingers light, a caress down Harry’s sides and then up his stomach and over his nipples. Harry shivered and said, “Please, please.”
He tightened his grip on Harry’s hips and lowered himself to his knees. He touched the fading bite mark at his hip first. “How did you get this?”
Harry swallowed roughly, eyes shutting to think. Draco moved his hand under Harry’s dick and cradled his bullocks.
“Shit ... Hermione,” Harry managed. “Ron was fucking her from behind and this is the result of her orgasm.”
“And triggered yours, I bet?” Draco prompted and licked it. He pumped Harry’s prick with a few firm tugs.
Harry gasped. “Yes.”
Draco sucked on the bruised skin harshly, biting down on the chunk in his mouth. Harry’s moan echoed around the stone walls, his hips bucked forward. He kept sucking until the faded mark flared purple and red again.
Smiling against his skin, Draco moved his mouth. He used his hand to pulled Harry’s cock down and then licked at the head for a moment, around the ridge, tonguing the slit. Fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, and Draco winced, unintentionally tightening his mouth around Harry’s dick, and Harry thrust, almost gagging him.
Draco pulled away and glared.
Harry’s smile was mostly repentant. With a huff, Draco went back to his dick, but this time, he pushed at Harry’s hips until his ass was on the cold stone wall behind him. The hot water hit their sides, and Draco shifted enough that it was not streaming right in his face. He held Harry firmly and sucked him down, gagging on his own at first before getting a feel for him. His dick was thick, with a slight bend near the head that made the soft crown slide over the roof of Draco’s mouth. Harry continued to pull his hair, his whimpers and gasps echoing around them.
Draco used one hand to grab at Harry’s balls and yanked them down at the same rhythm. Harry’s moans wavered between just noise and Draco’s name. His hands tightened, yanking on Draco’s hair, and then he was coming, shaking, shivering through his release that Draco was not expecting. He pulled off with a cough and felt the warm splatters on his cheek, chin and shoulder.
“S-sorry. Shit ... just .. fuck, Dray, I just ...” Harry slid down the wall and Draco hugged him close, still on his knees. Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, and it took a moment for Draco to realize that Harry was not kissing him but licking up his own come.
They sat in silence while Harry’s body stopped shaking.
“Sorry,” Harry said again. “I can’t ... I can’t control myself with you. My magic just ... I just ... I want you so badly.”
Draco pulled away and cupped his cheek before leaning into him for a soft kiss. “I want you, too. I do.”
“Do you want to be part of our bond?”
“It is too soon for me to answer that question, and I really need to read those things Hermione left for me.”
Harry sighed. “I know. I’m being completely unfair.” He tugged at Draco’s hair, yanking him back to his mouth. They stayed there and kissed until Draco’s knees ached on the hard stone floor.
“Come on, let’s get clean and find something to eat.”
“I am starving.”
“Me, too.”
“Mostly for your dick.”
Draco felt himself flush, but managed to stand up while Harry laughed at him. Harry’s hands were firm on Draco’s hips, his mouth warm just above Draco’s ass, and Draco shivered. Harry did nothing more than use his grip to stand and then wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and pressed a kiss to his back.
“Am I allowed to kiss you in the middle of the Great Hall yet?”
Draco paused in his washing for a moment, and then turned around to let Harry into the shower stream. He thought about that while rubbing Harry’s body with the soap.
“Just hearing you call me ‘mate’ has given most of them heart attacks,” Draco said. “I’m not sure we should finish them off and stun them dead.”
“Then I’m going to hold your hand.”
Draco smiled. “That’s okay. Shite, though, let me owl my mother today and warn her. She doesn’t need to hear about that from gossip.”
Harry laughed.
They finished their shower with wandering hands and a few heavy kisses. It was only the grumbling of both their stomachs that finally had them leaving the warmth of the bathroom. It took a few more kisses and some very strong self-discipline to keep them both from tumbling into a bed and never crawling out of it.
To Draco’s surprise, there was food again on the desk, underneath a warming charm. Harry put on nothing more than pants and then sat down to eat.
Draco wore a pair of his jeans and had just pulled a tight fitting T-shirt over his head when the door opened.
“Hi, Hermione,” Harry said, voice happy and innocent.
Hermione stood in the middle of their room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She wore a colorful dress with multiple patterns in white, teal, blue and green. It clung to her body, smooth over her hips, a bit loose over her chest. Draco was sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. She was barefoot, and her hair was loose and stylishly wild around her face.
“Harry James Potter. I am just ...”
It was Draco that moved over to her and shut her up with a kiss, sliding a hand around her waist. The dress was a clingy cotton that felt ultra soft under his fingertips as he rested them at the small of her back. “Good morning.”
Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut from the kiss. Her hands fluttered above Draco’s waist before settling at his sides. She smiled for the moment it took for their lips to part and her eyes to open. Then she remembered that she was upset and she scowled at him, pushing him away.
They laughed and she returned to standing with her hands on her hips. “You are ... both ... just ... how dare you, Harry. What if you had needed us?”
Harry smiled and kept eating.
“Apparently, all he needed was me last night.”
Hermione glared at him.
Draco fought the urge to flirt because he had no idea how she’d take it at the moment. Instead, he said, “I’m caught up enough on my homework to read those materials you gave me.” He waved his hand at his trunk where most of them sat. “Any suggestions on where to start?”
Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. “Gryffindor’s journal. It’s where I started.”
Draco nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“Dray, come and eat,” Harry said. “You’re starving.”
“I am starving.” He moved over to Harry and sat down, his stomach complaining loudly at the sudden smell of food.
Even if he was famished, he was not shoveling food into his mouth like Harry. Merlin, talk about horrific table manners.
Hermione sat on his bed and crossed her legs, the dress stretched over her knees. She stared at him with a harsh expression, and then a moment later, her cool blue magic wrapped around him. It did more than that, but Draco was not sure what as it sank into him and spread to his fingertips and toes.
“Just a diagnostics of sorts,” Hermione mumbled, feeling his trepidation.
It sort of tickled under his skin.
“Am I at death’s door?” Draco asked after a moment of silence. “Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man, is that it?”
“Did you just quote Muggle literature?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Do you really think William Shakespeare was a Muggle?” he countered with a grin. “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.”
Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide. “No way,” she almost whispered.
Draco shrugged. “There is no real proof in the Muggle world that he actually exists, now is there?”
“Goddamn,” Hermione gasped.
“I will have Mum send me some of his original works. We have a few in the Manor Library. I am sure she will not mind. She found the man’s plays to be trite and crude.”
Her eyes stayed open in shock.
Draco laughed. “Granger, your diagnostics?”
“O, speak to me no more--
Draco finished the quote with her, “These words like daggers enter my ears.”
They both laughed, Hermione leaning forward to press a hand to his leg. “You’re just fine. You aren’t dying. Everything is normal, which is why it’s weird that you’re already connected to us. For all intents and purposes, you aren’t there, you shouldn’t be there, and you shouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“Harry said I wasn’t in the bond yet, but it was starting to feel like it.”
Hermione nodded. “Perhaps ... Harry has always felt a connection to you, like I said before. This is just going to take time.”
Harry snorted. “Time? Really? More time? How much more time?”
“You’re impatient.”
“There is no way that time is going to connect him to us.”
“But there is a way for time to make me want it,” Draco said and continued to eat.
Harry growled and stood up, pacing around the room. Draco felt a tsunami of blue collide with Harry, strong enough that he staggered and had to grip a bedpost to keep from tumbling. He glared at Hermione.
“Calm down, Potter,” she all but snapped. “Draco will make his own choice and you will not influence it by being an impatient, arrogant, possessive prick!”
Harry fell back to the bed with a sigh, arms spread, chest and stomach still on display. Firm thighs, dusted with hair and scattered with scars.
“Sorry, Draco,” Harry whispered.
Draco glanced at Hermione. She was not satisfied with his apology. With a grin, he said, “So do you want to spend your Sunday rebuffing advances from randy lions or do you want to sit up here and read with me?”
Hermione laughed. “No contest, Draco. No contest.”
Harry grumbled through the rest of their breakfast that was almost lunch and then he pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek and Hermione’s lips and said, “Have fun doing work on a bloody Sunday, nerds.”
“We will,” Hermione said with a laugh. Harry shot her the two finger salute as he went out the door.
Draco took the books and journals and put them on the bed. He sat near the pillows and Hermione sat near the end of the bed, leaning against one of the posts.
“Start with this one,” Hermione said, handing him a thick book bound in leather. It had Gryffindor’s lion embossed on the front. He touched it and the lion moved, its mouth opening in a silent roar.
“Wow. Brilliant,” Draco said.
Hermione nodded. “I’d hoped to find one of the others’ personal journals too, but no luck with that yet. I asked Helena Ravenclaw’s ghost if her mother kept a journal, but that woman refuses to say anything. Again.”
“Again? And wait? What? There is a Ravenclaw ghost is here?”
Hermione bit her lower lip and winced. “Shite. That was a secret ... sorry. I wasn’t ... anyway. She is Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter. And yes, she’s here. The Grey Lady.”
Draco stared at her. “And again? What does that mean?”
“She was instrumental in helping Harry find a Horcrux so he could defeat Voldemort, but she sure as hell took her precious time about giving up information.”
“Wow. What other secrets do you lot know about Hogwarts?”
Hermione grinned. “A lot.” She pointed to the book. “You should start reading.”
Draco stared at her for another moment and then huffed and opened the journal. The very first page said, “Greetings, Sire of Slytherin. It appears that you are not worthy to read the words within this book. Kindly remove your snakey face. Regards, Godric.”
Draco snorted. “What a tosser.”
Hermione tilted her head in question and said, “What?” as she leaned over the journal. “There’s ... it’s just talking about his day. How is that offensive?”
Draco looked up at her and then back down at the journal. He read the message out loud.
Hermione laughed. “It’s like the Marauders all over again.”
“Marauders?” Draco said. “Oh, right, McGonagall told me to ask about them. She said she hasn’t had so much trouble with students--talking about you three, of course--since the Marauders. But she didn’t say who they were.”
Hermione rose from the bed and went to Harry’s trunk. “Harry definitely will not mind me showing you this. It’s sort of like a family heirloom.” She opened the trunk and tutted, hands on her hips. “This boy, I swear, he just ... such a mess.” She held out her hand a small bit of parchment rose into it, expanding as it went. She came back to the bed, a sinister smile on her face, and handed the parchment to him.
“There’s a secret to this, but I really want to see what they’ll say to you, so I’m not going to tell.”
“What?” Draco said, taking the parchment.
It was old and looked frail. Definitely worthy of the bin.
“Open it,” Hermione said.
Draco saw no visible way to do so since it was just a single piece of parchment, so it obviously needed magic. He took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the parchment.
“Open up.”
Scrolling ink covered the parchment.
Messers Moony and Padfoot would ask that you kindly take your selfish, slimey, smelly Slytherin hands off this.
Another scroll almost sliced across it.
And Mister Prongs would like to hex your grubby Malfoy face for even thinking you could touch it.
Hermione laughed.
Draco stared.
“Try another one,” Hermione suggested.
Draco cast a revealing spell on it.
Messers Moony and Wormtail are insulted that you think we did not think to charm this against such a low level spell. And Messers Prongs and Padfoot would like to demand that you once again take your snakey, cowardly, repulsive, Slytherin hands off our parchment.
“Oh, this was so worth it,” Hermione gasped through her chuckles.
Another message scrolled over the page: The spawn of Malfoy will never be worthy enough to see our secrets. Good day to you.
Messers Padfoot and Prongs hope that you fall in the Great Lake and become food for the Giant Squid.
Messer Moony hopes not because snake meat probably doesn’t taste good and he does not want the Giant Squid to suffer like that.
Draco stared up at Hermione with wide eyes. “What the bullocks?”
Hermione laughed. “The Marauders’ Map.”
She took the parchment from him, tapped it and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Before Draco’s eyes, the parchment expanded and opened and twisted until a map of Hogwarts spread open between them. “How ... is this ... wow. I knew that Harry was getting away with shite somehow. Between this and his Invisibility Cloak, he’s almost untouchable. Little wanker.”
Hermione smiled. “Yes. This map saved his life more than once. These men, they were all students here. Moony is Remus Lupin. He was a werewolf, you know. He was friends with Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter.”
“Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail,” Draco said. “And Harry’s Patronus is a stag, so Prongs is James, and Padfoot is Sirius Black?”
“Yes. The three of them learned to be Animagi in their fifth year to help Remus during the full moons. James was a stag and Sirius was a big black dog.”
“Wow.” Draco leaned over the map. It was open to where they were, in the Astronomy Tower. He noted the feet and names. Filch was near the library and Mrs. Norris was prowling near the kitchens. “It shows every single person.”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Sixth year, Harry poured over this map, looking for you. It doesn’t show who is inside the Room of Requirement, because that room is unplottable, but when you came out of it ... well, it’s how he always seemed to know where you were. That year did not start the obsession he had with you, but it sure compounded it.”
Draco bit his lip and turned away. “Shite, that was so stupid, Hermione. I just ... I should have ...”
She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. In the tense silence, she suddenly laughed.
“What?” Draco asked, looking at her.
She tapped a part of the map, and Draco leaned over to read it. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were in what Draco assumed by the map to be Ron and Neville’s room. Their names were practically on top of each other.
Draco smiled. “Like I said. Randy Lions.”
Hermione tapped the map again and said, “Mischief managed,” and the map folded back down to a spare bit of parchment. “Harry got this from Fred and George Weasley. I don’t really know why they gave it to him. I think they developed their own that was a bit better. I’m not sure if there is a password or something on Godric Gryffindor’s journal that will allow you to read it. I can read it outloud if you want.”
“Sure.”
“Or I can put it in my lap and see if that will let you read the words ...” She turned around on the bed and propped open the journal on her legs. Draco scooted close to her, a hand on the bed on her other side and leaned over her shoulder. Her hair tickled his face.
But he could see the words now.
As Hermione said, it was just discussing his day. The first page said, “Journal #289 of Sir Godric Gryffindor, est. 1013.”
The English was a bit difficult to understand at first, but Draco had spent many hours during his summers reading ancient texts written in Old English. He grew used to the language difference easily.
Most of the first entry was about the joy he found in watching his students learn. There was a paragraph that said, “Seeing their faces, seeing their joy is what lessens the pain in my chest, lessens the ache in my soul. Magickally, we may still feel whole, but there is still a wide hole in my entire being which misses the one meant to fill it. I promised myself that this journal would be free of him just like our lives are free of him, but I should have known better. How dare he! Alas, he will forever be with us. Somewhere.”
Hermione read a little faster than him, but Draco attributed that to her having read it before, not because she was better than him. Definitely not. When she was ready to turn the page, she touched the corner, and Draco made a noise that signaled he was ready. They read this way for almost an hour before Draco’s arm decided to go numb and his back reminded him that he should not be hunched over for so long.
“I’ve always seen Godric as some ridiculous hero, charging in with his sword drawn,” Draco whispered as he leaned back. “But he’s so full of emotion.”
“I can sympathise to a point,” Hermione said. “I know that I would die if Harry or Ron were not with me. It’s why we wanted a bond that took away that option.”
“Are you sure that’s going to happen?” Draco asked. “I mean, the four Founders did not die all at once.”
Hermione sort of smiled. “They may have. It’s been a long time since then. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were in isolation at the time of their deaths. There’s ... well, not any evidence that Gryffindor and Slytherin didn’t die at the same time. Nobody knows when any of them died. Here.” She handed him a strange journal of sorts with white sheets of thin parchment and a metal spiral down the side. “My notes.”
Draco settled it on his knee. “Is this going to insult me if I try to read it?”
Hermione laughed. “No, but I can if it makes you feel better. What did I call you? A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.”
Draco snorted. “Please don’t punch me again.”
With a little smile, she said, “You want my hands on you, Draco. Just admit it.”
“Yes. All over. Really.”
Their eyes met and pure, magical lust flared blue from Hermione. Draco felt himself sway as it hit him, biting his lip against a moan.
“Read, you prat.”
Draco blinked, trying to get rid of the feeling. He shifted himself in his jeans, catching her little smile. She was looking down at Gryffindor’s journal. Her hair was falling over her shoulder, and she moved it behind an ear, baring her slightly pink cheeks. It looked like she was breathing deeper than usual.
Smirking, he looked down at the journal. Notebook. Right. Muggle journal. A Muggle thing. A notebook. Ew.
With a sigh, he opened the flimsy blue cover and started reading Hermione’s notes.
Aug 3 - I feel weak and unbalanced. It is taking a lot of effort to write this down. Ron and Harry have given up on writing their feelings. They are curled up together on the couch. Ron might be crying, but I am too focused on these words to do anything else. My fingers are shaking. My magic is shaking. It’s the only way I can describe it. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But even as I think that and I look over at Ron and Harry, I know it was. I can feel them. We are not next to each other, but I can feel Ron’s heated skin and Harry’s happy smile.
Aug 4 - Shite. We’ve been doing nothing but sleep and eat for days. Ravenous. Like a half-crazed bull kept too long in its pen. And Harry can’t keep control of his dick. But that makes it seem like that’s a new occurrence. Harry will always want an orgasm, magical bond or not. Ron is more than happy to oblige him, but afterwards, we just eat and sleep again. I don’t feel like things have settled. Not completely. When I look into our magicks, I can see how we’re together, twisting and spinning. I can feel Harry and Ron almost as well as I can feel myself. It’s amazing. Simply crazy.
Aug 5 - Harry almost scared us to death today by summoning coats for us without his wand and ending up almost destroying our closet when all of our clothes flew out of it and into the room. Ron has never even managed a simple nonverbal spell, and now he can light a fire without thinking about it. I can just as easily conjure water and douse it. Harry is making plants and flowers grow in his room. It’s ... it’s a lot of fun, actually. It feels like it’s supposed to be too serious to be fun. We can do so many magical things that we were unable to do before. Every hour we practice another nonverbal spell. Everything has energy that we can manipulate. Everything. And that’s how we do it. Manipulate its energy. It is hard to stop using magic now. Between the three of us, we can make the best tea in all of England.
Draco snorted.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“The best tea in all of England, huh?”
Hermione laughed. “Yes. When Ron and Harry are done shagging, I’ll show you.”
“That won’t be anytime soon.”
“No, probably not, so you better keep reading.”
Draco smiled and went back to the notebook. Hermione had written all the nonverbal and wandless magic she was able to do, and all the magic she observed Ron and Harry doing. A little over a week into the journals, Hermione’s tone changed from hopeful to hopeless.
I do not understand. I lay awake, between the two men that I love and I feel empty. This was supposed to fix something. This was supposed to remove the worry and fear of ever being alone. I mentioned it to the other two, just because it’s hard to hide things from them anyway. Harry had frowned at me, looking away. A good sign that he was feeling the same. Ron said I was crazy. I will ask them about it tomorrow. Since I cannot sleep, I am going to go into the other room and work on controlling this magic. It spins and twists inside me. And outside of me. Sometimes, things grow damp after I have walked by. And earlier I ended up soaking through the couch when I only sat upon it to be near Harry. I hope that Ron doesn’t randomly start burning things. I need to control it soon, so I can teach the other two before disaster strikes.
“Here,” Hermione said and handed him a notebook with a green cover. “This one is Harry’s. He didn’t really start writing in it until about a week after we bonded.”
Draco took it with interest and started reading. The first few entries were single lines or a paragraph. Nothing like the length of Hermione’s. But on the third page was this entry: I cannot tell Ron or Hermione. I just can’t. Our bond is so new, so precious, so fulfilling. I cannot tell them that I feel like someone is missing from it. If we had needed a fourth person, the bond would not have worked.
There was an empty line, and then words in a different color ink: Hermione is feeling the emptiness too. What would she say if she knew what I knew, if she knew that I knew who was supposed to be here?
I had a nightmare. Of vines trying to wrap around me. A silvery wind saved me.
Another nightmare. This one of fire. Lots of fire. Like the Fiendfyre. Again. Wind. Silver wind saved me. And Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The wind saved us both because I didn’t have a broom this time. Everything in the Room of Requirement was burning. The wind. It swirled around us, keeping the fire away. This is the fourth dream I’ve had with Malfoy in it. What am I supposed to tell the other two? How can I tell them this? How is it even possible?
Keeping secrets has never been my strong suit. With both Hermione and Ron glaring at me while brushing away their worry, I had to come clean. Ron, as I thought, almost set the room on fire. He hates Draco with a passion. I mean, so do I. Although, I don’t much care anymore. It all makes no sense anymore and Draco had been absolved of his part in the War. Forgiveness, Hermione said, though she isn’t too keen on the idea either. I have dreams of Draco every night. Every single night. Not all of them are scary. But that almost makes them worse. I woke up almost crying from a dream of the two of us, just laying on a grassy hill with our hands clasped together and a soft summer breeze blowing over us.
Once again, Hermione and Ron don’t believe me. They don’t trust me. They don’t understand. This bond was supposed to make us inseparable. This bond was supposed to show me how much the two of them care about me. All it has done is shown once again that the two of them belong together and I belong somewhere else. Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. The more I think about it, the more I dwell on it, the more Draco Malfoy makes sense. I’ve tried to explain to Ron, but he just shuts down or yells when I mention it. Hermione at least sort of listens to me. She thinks it’s because I used his wand. I think it’s because I’ve always been drawn to him. Always. Since that very first day in Madame Malkins. Hell, I was an arrogant snot to him back them, just like he was to me, but he at least had attempted some form of friendship. What would have happened if I had let the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin?
“So what is this about Harry almost being Sorted into Slytherin?” Draco asked.
Hermione smiled over at him. “It’s really all your fault. Hagrid had saved him from his aunt and uncle, and the first thing you did was insult Hagrid. You were the second wizard he’d ever met and then on the train you went and insulted Ron. It was all rather childish since ... well, we were children. You’d been sorted into Slytherin almost right before him, and he begged the Sorting Hat not to put him there. The Sorting Hat told him over and over that he had the ambition for it, that he had the drive. But, well, tossed him into Gryffindor instead.”
“That’s crazy,” Draco said.
“So is an elemental bond. Crazy just follows Harry around.”
Almost as if that was a cue, food suddenly appeared on the desk.
“The castle loves him,” Hermione said. “Even while we were rebuilding, Harry would forget to eat and food would just appear. It is a good time for a break. We’ve been reading for hours already.”
Draco was startled to find out she was right. He finished reading Harry’s sparse journal entries (mostly about him and the wind) while they ate lunch. Hermione showed him only one page of Ron’s that said, “Draco Malfoy is a fucking arsehole and I don’t care what Harry said, I am not connecting myself to that snake.”
“How did you convince him?”
Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t. Harry did. They refuse to tell me what they talked about. It was only a couple weeks before term started. Harry had a burn on his hip that he refused to let me heal afterward. After that, Ron still refused to believe it, but in a less vocal way. And then he had his own dream. Again, he won’t tell us what happened. Maybe he’ll tell you. He just said the next day that he was willing to believe it if only for Harry’s sake.”
After lunch, Hermione asked, “Remember a few days ago at lunch, when you had those elemental feelings?”
Draco smiled. “Yes.”
“You said something, while you were mostly asleep.”
Draco thought about that and remembered that Hermione had been shocked and Harry had smiled widely at him. “What did I say?”
“Aer enim est fons vitae.”
Draco’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “Air is the fountain of life.”
Hermione smiled and pulled a small parchment from one of her journals. She handed it to him. He took it gingerly, the page was brittle, but it shimmered with the same preservation charm as that on Whetle’s ancient book.
The process of the bond.
“It’s what you’re supposed to say, to trigger the magic. Harry said it during the ritual, which is why we also think the bond worked, but there’s absolutely no way you would have even known this phrase existed without being part of the bond.”
Draco stared down at the parchment. The writing was again old and hard to decipher. It took a few minutes to switch his brain over to the older version of English mixed with Latin.
There were strict instructions on creating a complicated magic circle on the ground with a mixture of crushed trimonion berries, a certain type of heavy clay, and ashes from burnt trimonion berry leaves, and pure water at a certain temperature. Incantations had to be said at exactly the right time for the circle to close properly. Within the circle were four equidistant points, each one marked with a pewter goblet. The same mixture was added to a complicated bonding potion. At exactly the same moment, fresh blood had to be drawn from each participant and dripped into the goblets. Just five drops. In tandem. Half of the contents of each goblet had to be consumed exactly five minutes before the ritual at exactly the same time by the participants.
Each elemental said a phrase in Latin. “Earth is the beginning of life. Fire is the fuel of life. Water is the basis of life. Air is the fountain of life.”
The four participants then were to be individually restrained right in the center of the circle and brought to orgasm, their fluids added to their goblets. The rest of the mixture of the potions was to be added to goblets and then each participant drank the mixture from each goblet.
The very last paragraph on the parchment was a dire warning of what happened to the participants if anything went wrong or if they attempted to do this with less than four people.
Draco’s head was spinning at the complicated requirements in the process.
“Hey, Draco,” Hermione whispered.
Draco jerked in surprise, his mind entranced by the complexity of the ritual he was reading. “Huh?”
Hermione bit her lip and muttered something that sounded like “Sod it.” She tossed the journal she had been reading aside and crawled over to him. Crawled. At first she looked a bit unsure and then her smile twisted into a smirk when Draco was unable to do anything but stare. The dressed drooped low, almost revealing the nipples of her pale breast.
“Put that aside, please,” she said. “I’m not sure it is going to survive what I have in mind right now even with the preservation charms.”
Swallowing roughly, Draco did so as Hermione climbed into his lap. Her hands went to his hair, pulling his head back and then she kissed him, deep and needy all at once.
“It’s amazing how attractive you are when you’re studying,” she whispered when she pulled away for a moment.
“I am always attractive,” Draco said.
She laughed and went back for a kiss. She slid her hands down his back and gripped the T-shirt. He lifted his arms and let her pull it over his head. The T-shirt hadn’t even landed to wherever she threw it before she was shoving him to the bed and attacking his neck and shoulders with her mouth.
Draco half chuckled and half moaned. It had always riled him up faster when a girl was eager. He hated taking time to more or less convince a girl. Guys were always much easier.
He also hated it when he couldn’t get his hands in a girl’s hair, so the first thing he did was grab the thick band holding Hermione’s hair up and tugged on it. It took a fair amount of concentration not to yank her hair out when Hermione decided to lick at his nipple. With a gasp, Draco managed to get the hair tie out and then tangled his hands through her hair and guided her back up to his lips.
He slowed them down with a heavy kiss, running his fingers through her hair and then down her neck.
She sighed and settled against him, bodies twisted to the side enough to stay pressed together and kiss. Draco kept one hand in her hair and slid the other down her body, over the soft material of her dress and down to where it had ridden up over her thigh.
“Are you going to ward the door and keep me all to yourself?” Draco murmured against her lips.
“Already did,” she returned.
Draco chuckled.
“Are you going to take my dress off?”
Draco bunched up the bottom of the dress and tugged it up. She lifted her arms just long enough for Draco finish lifting it high. His earlier observation was right. Hermione was not wearing a bra, and as he pulled the dress over her head, she took off her panties. He was not able to admire because as soon as she was naked, Hermione was kissing him again, hands pulling at his shoulders and legs wrapping around him.
Draco did not mind at all and let his hands do the admiring instead of his eyes. Her skin was almost as soft as the dress. It shivered under his touch.
She pushed his shoulder back to the bed and then climbed over him, straddling him. Hands on his chest, she twisted against his crotch with a low whimper. Draco gripped her hips, matching her move for move.
“Are you going to take my jeans off?” he asked.
Hermione bit her lower lip. “Sure I can just rub myself off like this.”
“And what about me?”
She smiled, slow and sexy. “I can definitely get you off just like this.” She pressed a bit harder, and Draco throbbed.
Damn witch was right.
But he wasn’t going to let her prove it. With a bit of a growl, he pushed her off him (and her subsequent laughter let him know that she knew that he knew that she was right). He sucked in his stomach and yanked on the buttons, releasing enough to push his jeans and pants down his legs. Hermione sat back up, helping him peel them off.
“Getting clothes off is step one.”
“What is step two?” Hermione asked.
“Depends on if you’re fucking Harry and Ron.”
“They do have a tendency to speed things up.”
“Are you open with them, tell them what you want and need?”
“Mostly the bond does that.”
Draco smirked. “Their loss, I guess. It’s really sexy to hear a girl talking about what she wants.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed.
“I guess I’m not being fair to them,” Draco continued, twisting the nipple a bit harsher. “I mean, you are the only girl they’ve been with, and as Harry so eloquently pointed out before, I am a bit a slag. That just means I know things.”
“And how long do I have to lay here and listen to your self-praise before you actually do things?”
Draco laughed.
“So what will this be? A quick fuck or ... ” She trailed a hand down her stomach.
Draco watched, throat going tight and then had to cough before he managed to reply. And her smirk. Again. Merlin, she was sexy. “Well, I guess this is me reviewing what I learned before. It’s been ...” Draco stopped and had to think of the last time he’d been with a girl. Pansy probably. Sixth year, maybe. Sixth year was still a bit of a stressful blur. “... awhile since the last time I was with a bird and not a bloke.”
She smiled. “I am incredibly angry about that, you slag. The ... it’s strange how much anger flares inside me thinking of you with other people.”
“In the past,” Draco said and finally rolled over to curl around her. “So let me show you what I remember.”
He kept himself propped up next to her and leaned down for a light kiss. A light kiss that masked the movement of his arm so the caress to her stomach was a bit of a surprise. She breathed in through her nose deeply and then tangled her hands in his hair to deepen the kiss. He let her for a little while and then slowed it back down. His hand did not move from her stomach, sliding up almost to her breasts and then sliding down almost between her legs. Her breathing sped up, her tugs on his hair grew more insistent, and she spread her legs in invitation.
One that Draco did not take. Not completely. He did love to tease.
She grew frustrated, but her moans were mostly in pleasure, so he kept kissing her, kept touching her, until his hand was brushing over the short strands of hair between her legs. But still just brushing, a whisper of a touch down her inner thighs.
“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” she gasped. “Please.”
So he stopped teasing her with his hands and used his mouth instead, starting at her neck and moving south. Her hands finally left his hair and she started digging her fingers into his shoulder and arm, pushing him down.
A strong pulse of compulsion had him moving for a moment, to obey, and then he shook his head and glared up at her. She smiled, unrepentant.
“None of that, Miss Granger,” he said with a light smack to her bare hip.
Her eyes shut with a small sigh. “Please.”
“Soon.”
He went back to his light touches, along her stomach first and then down her thighs, fingertips grazing more sensitive skin. He finally allowed her to spread her legs and then moved his mouth lower. With fingers grazing inner thighs, he licked down her stomach. He strengthened his touch, gripping the shivering muscles and then teased more with his tongue, along the crease of leg and stomach, not going lower until her pleas were almost too loud and almost too desperate. With fingers tangled firmly in his hair, Hermione yanked and started cursing.
That was good.
Draco shifted down the bed, between her legs. She almost screamed, “Finally,” and spread her legs, lifting them and curling her hips up.
Draco laughed. “Patience, darling.”
She growled. Actually growled and then used her own fingers to play with herself, slide down and into her body that was already so wet.
Draco hummed in appreciation and watched as she rubbed her clit.
“You know, if I wanted to get myself off, I would have gone to Ron and Harry,” she said.
Draco chuckled, using his fingers to tease her inner thighs. “Patience, Granger. The girl is the one that knows her body the best. I call this research.”
She huffed at him, but kept playing, her eyes fluttering closed, her fingers pressing a bit firmer. She liked to tease herself, Draco could tell. She’d wait until her thigh muscles tightened and her body shifted and then she’d slow down, take her finger off her clit and slip into herself a few times.
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
She snored. “Fuck that. Come on. Please.”
Draco spread his fingers over her thighs and pushed, shifting forward. She moved her hand, sliding it over his neck and into his hair, leaving a wet trail behind. He moaned and followed her lead, followed her physical commands, and put his mouth to her.
There would be time to devour her later. There’d be time to fingerfuck her three deep and suck on her clit as she screamed. But later.
For now, he teased. He spread her open, fingers soft at the edge of pink skin and swirled his tongue just to under her clit. Her moan echoed through the room. He did it again, going higher to just flick over the over-sensitive spot. Her thighs quivered around his head and he felt her pulsing where his hands settled. Another lick, a bit firmer, and he followed it with a finger, sliding through wetness and then sinking in. She gasped, tightening up and Draco withdrew the finger, keeping just the tip teasing the clenching muscles. He shivered too because he couldn’t wait to sink into those muscles and feel the way she shuddered around his dick. He concentrated on her clit with his tongue and mouth, licking and then sucking. It was hard to stay patient, hard to be in control, hard with the way she was moaning and tugging at his hair and crying his name.
And hard. Shit, he was hard and he let himself rut against the bed for a little while, just to tease himself. He was not going to last long inside her. Not long enough for her to come from his dick. He had to get her to the edge. But he had to remember his moves too. Nothing special. Most girls got off from repetition and consistency, not fast changes or bursts of power.
Power. Magic.
Draco wondered ... he kept his finger buried inside her, not moving it. With his mouth on her clit, tongue just moving around, he called his magic. He was not sure how to explain it, but it was like he had a wand in his hand. He was aware of his magical core when he thought this way.
Energy, Hermione had said. It was just manipulating energy. And her muscles were indeed shaking from energy.
He felt the tingle on his finger, and she screamed.
Just screamed. Her entire body shook, back arching off the bed, and Draco winced as his hair was pulled. Her body shuddered and fell, her chest gasping.
“Again, again,” she demanded. “Draco fuck, Again. More.”
He had to pull away from her clit and from the sweet taste that made it easier to slip in two fingers. He did whatever he did again, less reluctantly, letting magic through him like he would with a wand.
And Hermione screamed again. Her reaction even more violent. She was panting, his name broken and then she was almost sobbing.
“Fuck me, fuck me ... one more ... wait ... just ... Shite, Draco. Shite. I need ...”
Draco twisted his fingers as he pulled them almost free and her body clenched down on them. He pushed them back in and opened his mouth to lick at her and lick her up. Everything was delicious and fresh and clean, like her water. Like her magic. Like her soul. He shoved a third finger into her before letting his magic free again.
And the bed curtain whipped in a cool wind. Their hair twisted in the silent storm. Draco found himself on his back and thought his own wind had put him there before Hermione was straddling his lap. Her hand was already slick with oil wrapping up and around him. He gasped, knees bending.
She huffed in frustration and then held him still and sank down on him. Faster than Draco had planned.
“Fuck. Sodding ... fuck,” Draco gasped and tried to get the girl to fucking stop for a moment. She didn’t, her hands on his chest, her hips rising and falling fast and her head tilted back. Draco watched her swallow, watched her breast heave with her deep gasps.
“Again. Magic again,” she said.
With hands on her hips, Draco pulled at his magic. This time, the wind came with rain, and Hermione cried out, body arched back away from her, wetness gushing from her in time to her orgasm, and Draco came, adding to the mess, adding the screams, adding to the elements that soaked them through and then warmed with the wind.
Hermione fell on top of him, and Draco had just enough mental fortitude to wrap his arms around her before he blacked out.
Part 9: A Better Week
Part 7: Sexy Strategy
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
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