The Slytherin Prince

Well, it was safe to say that Draco had taken her everywhere.

A startled little gasp of a breath flew past Hermione’s lips as her lover pinned her against the wall, using his body to hold her in place. It wasn’t long after he had effectively trapped her that he was sliding one of his hands between her thighs, which parted immediately for him—as if on demand. And then he was cupping the wet heat of her pussy in one of his slender and skilled hands, and Hermione’s head tipped back against the wall she was pressed up against, her lips parting on a soft moan. She whimpered as Draco began to rub her pussy through her trousers; he knew that it didn’t take much at all to get her worked up, and already she could feel the hot and sticky proof of her arousal dripping out of her cunt and soiling the lacy knickers she had chosen to wear today. She was so sensitive, and so receptive to Draco’s touch, that it didn’t matter that there was a layer of clothing keeping them separated—they both knew from experience that she could easily come just like this.

Merlin, she…she was quite the shameless little tart when it came to Draco, wasn’t she?

His lips were soft and heated against her ear as he spoke, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as his sinful words registered in her hazy mind. She remembered yesterday morning with the utmost clarity, and thinking about it now was enough to have her hips snapping forward, and then…and then she was humping Draco’s hand, whimpering desperately as she struggled to get him right where she needed him most. “Mmm…mmm…Draco…” she moaned his name, shaky hands clutching onto his shoulders and digging into his taut skin as her hips rolled and canted in response to his touch. The friction of her now soiled knickers rubbing up against her sticky cunt was almost too much for Hermione to bear, and she wanted—needed, even—more. 

"Every time you—ngh—every time you make me come while we’re in the shower, Draco, you practically undo me," Hermione murmured breathlessly, her delicate features contorting themselves into a pleasured grimace as she struggled to hump his hand, clutching desperately at his shoulders. She was soaking wet at this point, and she knew that he would be able to feel the wet heat of her against his hand—even through the thin layers of clothing that kept them separated.

Perhaps that was why they had such an active sex life, then. Because they were both complete and utter nymphomaniacs when it came to one another.

As expected, Hermione moaned and began to grind herself against Draco's hand. It didn't take a fool to figure out what it was she wanted--the moment his hand had slid between her thighs to cup her sensitive heat with his slender, capable hand, she had nearly come undone. It didn't matter that he was rubbing her through the material of her knickers and trousers--she was so bloody responsive to his touch that he could get away with simply dragging his finger across her collarbone and it would be enough to have her dripping wet for him. A sly, smug grin worked its way across Draco's pale features as she responded positively to his ministrations, and in doing so he dragged a finger up and down the seam of her trousers--teasing her, so to speak.

He knew within seconds she'd be begging for his touch--for his cock, for his fingers (or fist), for his mouth. Whatever it was she wanted, he'd be certain to give it to her.

He was rather shameless when it came to Granger, actually.

"I take pleasure in unraveling you, Granger," He murmured, pressing his bulging erection against the trouser-clad form of her inner thigh. He absentmindedly ground himself against her, licking and sucking along the vulnerable expanse of her collarbone. He pulled away only when Granger begged for him to lick her. So that was how it was going to be, was it?

"Anything you want," He said, his voice husky. Smirking at his fiancee and with grey eyes that shimmered with lust, Draco sunk to his knees.

A soft and dulcet little mewl of a sound reverberated in Hermione’s throat when Draco gently nipped and tugged at the sensitive flesh of her bottom lip, and as his arms wound themselves her dainty frame, she instinctively shifted closer against him, until there wasn’t a single iota of space between the two of them. They had been intimate with one another more times than she could count, and Hermione had long ago ceased to feel ashamed of just how…how needy she was when it came to his touch and his body. She loved Draco, and she loved every part of him—and she hoped that the same could be same for him in regards to her, as well. Draco’s voice was deliciously raw and husky when he spoke, and Hermione doubted that he even realized just how sexy he truly sounded. His brow was resting against her own now, and for a brief minute, Draco’s eyes closed, and his dark blond lashes fluttered—almost as if he was saying a simple prayer of thanks or a word of reverence. 

"I know, love. I know," Hermione murmured softly when he confessed to her that he had wanted this for so long; she knew that it killed him not to have a child that was entirely his, and despite how much she loved Ivan and how good Draco was with him, that still didn’t stop him from feeling as if he wanted more. Hoping to comfort him as much as she could, Hermione gently combed her slim fingers through Draco’s soft strands of silky blond hair, brushing them away from the sensitive nape of his neck. When he opened his eyes to gaze down at her, Hermione saw within the silver depths what so many people failed to notice—the sheer depth of his love and affection for her. And then he was speaking again, and Hermione could have sworn that she felt her eyes prick with tears.

"I love you too, Draco," she breathed, smiling up at him as her chestnut-brown eyes shone and shimmered with warmth and happiness. "We’re…we’re going to be so happy, all four of us together. I hope…I hope the baby has your eyes," she admitted softly, gazing up at him fondly. "Or…or your hair, maybe. Or your nose. I’ve always loved your nose," she rambled on with a breathless little laugh, bending her head so that she could rest her brow against the hollow of his throat, her breath hot as it stirred upon his skin. She nuzzled his neck with the dainty tip of her nose as she tucked herself against him, craving the warmth and security that he provided her with so effortlessly. 

"I’m so glad that I was finally given an explanation for how I’ve been feeling as of late," Hermione continued, tracing idle patterns into the nape of Draco’s neck with one of her dainty hands, toying with the sensitive skin that resided there. "I was almost certain that I had gone absolutely mad! One minute I was chiding you for forgetting to put your dishes in the sink, and the very next I was…"

Hermione’s cheeks suddenly became very warm, and she bit down on her tender lower lip as she glanced up at her fiance, almost bashful as she recalled what had taken place between them only two evenings ago while they had the house to themselves. 

And now he and Hermione would be having a baby together, and unlike the young version of himself, Draco was more than ready.

He'd been looking forward to it. Something that his younger self couldn't have said with any sort of honesty.

The fact that Hermione was just as ecstatic about it as he was made everything significantly easier. He would have understood, of course, if she wasn't thrilled at the process of having a second child--she'd already conceived one with Weasley. Who was he to think that she would want anymore? But her reaction made it all blindingly clear to Draco--she wanted a child with him just as badly as he'd craved conceiving one with her. Draco kept quiet and leaned into her touch as Hermione began to speak, absentmindedly running her slender fingers through his white blond hair all the while. A soft, almost uncertain sort of smile flickered across his face as she explained that she wanted their baby to have his eyes or his hair; he struggled to think of what the combined effects of their features would create, and was pleased to note that he found that together, they could make quite attractive children. Draco pictured a small child with porcelain skin and bright, curly brown hair. He pictured a little curl running around with brilliant hazel eyes and features that would sharpen with age.

He pictured a child that would be beautiful and loved, no matter what.

"Just so long as the child has your lips, I think that's all that matters," Draco murmured, his bright grey eyes flickering down to Granger's plump lips. They had always been his favorite part about her; they were full and red and curved in all the right places. He was fascinated by them--fascinated by her.

Distracted, Draco blinked in slight astonishment when Hermione went on to explain one of their...more recent rendezvous. His mouth twisted into a rather crooked grin and he moved forward, pressing her against the nearest wall and sliding a hand down the length of her form, cupping the clothed heat that rested between her thighs.

She waited with baited breath and nerves that were on end for Draco to understand everything that she had just informed him; he seemed to be in shock, almost—as if he couldn’t even bring himself to believe what it was that she had said. His face was pale (paler than usual, anyway), and his eyes were wide and shocked, and before Hermione could even think to question him, Draco was surging towards her. His fine-boned and slender hands rose to cradle her face between his palms, and Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as her name fled her lover’s lips, shaky and wrought with the sort of emotion that no one aside from her realized Draco was capable of expressing. The slightly calloused pad of his thumb skimmed the defined line of her cheekbone, and then he was speaking, effectively relieving Hermione of any doubts and concerns she might have had. This was it, then—he was just as thrilled as she was.

Wishing to reassure him as much as she possibly could, Hermione nodded fervently, raising her now-trembling hands to rest on his forearms. “I’m one-hundred percent certain, Draco—I refused to leave the Healer’s office until she had performed the test three times. I—I’m pregnant, love; there’s no doubt about it. We—I—we’re having a baby!” Hermione breathlessly exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet once more as an impossibly wide and giddy smile spread itself across her delicate features. Draco seemed just as pleased, if the crooked grin on his face was anything to go by, and Hermione knew then that she would remember this moment for as long as they both would live. Because this…this was hugely monumental for them, and Hermione had a feeling that Draco felt the exact same way.

"We’re finally having a baby, Draco, I promise,” Hermione breathed softly, gazing up at her fiance with all the love and adoration that she could muster. She was flushed and glowing with happiness, and she swore that she could feel something flutter within her stomach in response—as if her unborn child could already sense how excited both of his or her parents were. Unable to help herself, she stretched up on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against Draco’s in a sweet, tender kiss—one that was full of longing and happiness. She was smiling, her eyes wide and bright, when she pulled away, and she knew that Draco would be able to see every single emotion written across her face.

This was it, then. This was really, really happening--Draco Malfoy had gotten Hermione Granger (he refused to call her Weasley--always had) pregnant, and together they were having a baby.

Soon they'd be married, and now she was pregnant with his kid. There wasn't much more that Draco could ask for in life.

When Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a tender, loving kiss that spoke of everything she felt for him and their unborn child, Draco could do little else but move his mouth against hers in response. His arms fell from her face to wrap around her waist, tugging her body close to his and moaning against her mouth in response. He bit down on her lower lip, tugging on the soft flesh gently before finally pulling his lips away from hers, rather breathless and flushed in the wake of her shocking news.

"I've...wanted this for so long," He confessed, his voice low and husky. Swallowing noisily, Draco leaned forward and rested his forehead against Hermione's, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut for just a moment as he processed everything that occurred between them since Granger had arrived home not even ten minutes ago.

"Starting a family with you...it's the one thing I've wanted for years," He confessed, finally opening his eyes to gaze down on her. "This...this is what we need. A family together."

He hesitated, licking his lips.

So she was hoping that this would help. Because the child she was pregnant with right now would be Draco’s child, and while she knew that he wouldn’t show any sort of favoritism between him or her and Ivan, she wouldn’t blame her fiance for being excited over the prospect of having fathered a biological child that was truly and wholly his. And so when Draco came towards her, clearly confused and concerned by her admittedly strange behavior, Hermione had to stop herself from blurting out her news then and there—if only because she wanted to see the exact moment when Draco realized that they were having a baby.

"No, no, nothing’s wrong! There isn’t any fire! And I’m not sick, either!" Hermione hastened to reassure her fiance, breathless as she gestured wildly with her dainty hands. Her eyes were wide to the point where she was certain that she appeared more than a little unhinged, and she couldn’t seem to help the way the balls of her feet were bouncing up and down with each breath that she took. Realizing that she couldn’t wait even a moment longer, she began to rifle through her purse in search of the prescription that she had been provided with, and when she had finally managed to grasp hold of the small bottle of vitamins, she let out a triumphant sound and brought them out of her handbag, holding them out to Draco and shaking them in his face with…well, much more enthusiasm than was actually needed for such a simple gesture.

"Do you know what these are, Draco? Probably not, seeing as you’re a man, and…well, you’re never going to need to take them in your life, but—these are prenatal vitamins, Draco, and they’re what the Healer prescribed me with today. And do you know what that means? Do you know why I’ve been given strict orders to take them for the next seven or so months?”

She paused, hopefully allowing the weight of her words to sink in, and gazed up at Draco expectantly before giving the bottle of pills another firm shake.

What was the big deal, then? What was she so worked up about?

Before he could think to press her for more information and ask such an obvious question, however, Hermione was digging around in her purse and pulling out a small bottle of what Draco could only suspect was medication. He squinted his eyes, leaning forward and deciding--after a few moments of thorough inspection--that they were vitamins. If she was healthy, then why would the Healer prescribe her medication of any kind? And furthermore, why vitamins? Of all bloody things, he was going to give her something that she could head down to the store and pluck off a shelf?

Draco's confusion was mounting by the minute.

"Seeing as I'm a man?" Draco blurted out, accidentally interrupting his fiancee. "What the hell's that supposed to mean? Men take vitamins all the--" He trailed off when she finished her sentence, explaining that they were pre-natal vitamins. While Draco might not have known everything about the female body and its anatomy, he sure as hell knew what the use of those things were, and it could only mean one thing...

But...but surely it was inaccurate, right?

His face grew a ghostly shade of white when Hermione went on to explain that she was pregnant. Shock jolted through his body; pulsating within him and beating a steady rhythm against his chest. His throat grew very dry and scratchy and his eyes were stinging. A baby--he and Hermione were going to have a bloody BABY together. After months and years of pining after having a family with her--of wishing that Ivan was his biological son and not the Weasel's--Draco was finally getting what he'd wanted all along.

A child to call his own. A child with....with Granger. Fuck.

"....Granger," He managed in a shaky exhale. A crooked grin spread itself across Draco's pale, aristocratic features and he surged forward, taking her face in his hands and brushing his thumb across the sharp angle of her cheekbone.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to be told that she was pregnant.

Hermione had insisted that the Healer perform the test three times over just to ensure that she hadn’t been given any sort of false negative, and when she had agreed to do so…Hermione had been left wide-eyed and speechless as she realized that she was very, very pregnant—nearly two months along at this point! Suddenly, everything made sense: all of the nausea and exhaustion, as well as her constantly changing moods…she was pregnant with her second child, and despite the fact that nothing had been planned out in the slightest…Hermione was ecstatic. She loved Ivan more than anyone could possibly ever understand, but she had always wanted to give him a younger sibling, and…knowing that this baby had been made with Draco just reinforced Hermione’s happiness.

They were going to have a baby, and she could only hope that her fiance was just as excited and ecstatic as she was.

After she had set up a series of appointments with her Healer, all of which would be taking place next week, as well as having been given her first prescription of pre-natal vitamins, Hermione was on her way home. She did’t know if her fiance was finished with work as of yet, but she hoped that he was, if only because she was practically bursting with the desire to share her news with him. Ivan was with his playgroup today until after dinner, which meant that she and Draco had the house to themselves—and Hermione was determined to make the most of it. Having arrived at home, Hermione didn’t hesitate to seek out her fiance; she found him in the living room with a glass of wine, and if the rich and savory scent that had pervaded her nostrils was anything to go by, Draco had gone out of his way to prepare a meal for the both of them.

He was so…so sweet. 

"Draco," Hermione breathed, clasping her trembling and fluttering hands together in front of her and trying not to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet. She was nervous and excited and giddy all at once, and her eyes were wide to the point that she probably looked more than a little ridiculous—not that she cared, of course; they were going to have a baby!

Worried that something might be wrong (though judging by the way she was practically beaming at him, Draco believed it was anything but), he swerved his way around the furniture dividing them and made his way towards his wife-to-be, pausing only when he was standing directly in front of her. Without speaking, he took a moment or two to inspect her, glancing her up and down and struggling to detect any signs of potential poisoning or spell influence. Because really, how many people came back from the Healer this ecstatic? Zero. None. Visits to St. Mungo's were to be dreaded, not enough to induce excitement.

Then again, Hermione always had been a bit of a...rare and strange creature, so to speak.

"Where's the bloody fire, Granger?" He asked, strangely breathless. His eyes latched onto hers and Draco licked his lips, preparing for whatever onslaught of news Granger was about to throw at him. He just hoped that it would be something worthwhile for both of them--something that wouldn't cause his heart to sink or his hope for their relationship to deflate.

Though he'd never admit so out loud, it was one of his greatest concerns.

RIght?

He was quiet, though, which wasn’t exactly unheard of when it came to her boyfriend, but his silence wasn’t exactly an…unpleasant one, if that made any sense. It was as if he was mulling over his words and trying to deliberate what it was he needed to say to her, and Hermione just…Hermione just hoped for the best. She hoped that somehow, he had come to love her in the amount of time that they had been together, and that somehow, he returned her feelings. That was all she wanted, really—for the Wizard she loved to love her even half as much in return. Finally, he was speaking, and all of Hermione’s fears were eradicated upon hearing his words.

He loved her. He loved her!

A strangled sound escaped her lips, and she immediately tossed herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face beneath his chin. She held him tightly, practically clinging to him as an onslaught of emotion overwhelmed her. He loved her! He honest to God loved her! She was laughing and almost-crying all at once, and it was only when she had managed to compose herself—albeit only slightly—that she drew her head away from his neck, a smile stretching across her face from ear to ear.

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco,” she began breathlessly, slipping one of her hands beneath the water to pinch his side. “I didn’t…I thought…you made it seem as if you…don’t do that!” She chided, pinching him once more before abruptly wrapping her arms around him again and claiming his lips in a fierce kiss. Her lips started out fervent and sloppy against his, but gradually slowed until they were tender and…and loving as she kissed him with everything she had in her. She only detached herself from him when she was sure they were both red-lipped and breathless, a soft smile spreading across her face.

It reminded him that he was human, and that no matter what the Death Eaters and everyone else had tried to beat out of him and take away from him, this was the one thing they didn't hold claim over: his emotions. Sure, he was more resistant to feeling things than other people who hadn't been touched by the same sort of lifestyle as him, but he could still feel. With everything in him, Draco Malfoy could still feel.

And then she was kissing him, a choke sort of sound leaving her lips. His mouth worked against hers hotly; it was full of tension and passion and what Draco could only seem to identify as relief. Relief that she loved him; relief that he loved her in return--relief that they were still together, and relief that neither one of them planned on leaving the other anytime soon. It was comforting to love and be loved in return, and as Draco's lips moved against her own, these words spurred him forwards, and he deepened the kiss. One hand detached itself from her waist, snaking up so that he could cup the back of her neck as he kissed her. By the time she finally pulled away, Draco was more than a little dizzy and swollen with lust, and the sudden urge to satiate his desire and attachment to her.

Evidently, Granger felt the same way.

"The Room of Requirement sounds...perfect right about now," He consented, his words slurred slightly. He stretched from his position beneath her, moving to disentangle them only temporarily. He moved himself from the warm comfort of the tub, shivering slightly and groping for one of the soft towels that the room provided them with. stepping out of the tub, he dried himself off and hummed to himself in a tired voice, suppressing a yawn and tying the towel around his waist.

"Why bother getting ready, right?" He said with a laugh, knotting the towel more tightly around his waist. "We both know that we're only going to shred them the moment we get inside of there." He paused, waiting for her and running a hand through his damp blonde hair, more than willing to spend the rest of the night losing himself in his girlfriend over and over again.

With the woman he loved.

"Lead the way, bushy," He said teasingly, grinning at her. "I'll follow. Always."

She bit her lip when she felt Draco tense against her, his eyes widening in sheer astonishment. He was rarely every speechless, so Hermione took his inability to articulate himself as a bad sign. A very, very bad sign. She grew self-conscious and awkward, slowly drawing her arms away from where they had been wrapped around his neck and shifting away from him slightly. She wrung her hands together in front of her, fiddling with her fingers and trying to figure out what it was she should do. Should she leave, maybe? Hastily excuse herself and sprint back to Gryffindor tower like nothing had ever happened between them? It was tempting, but…not as tempting as sharing the evening with her boyfriend. Godric, she was an idiot—what was she thinking, professing her love for him after not even a year of dating? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

She was still trying to process what exactly it was that she needed to do when Draco spoke, and his sudden question took her by surprise. She blinked, slightly startled. He…he wanted to know why she loved him? She almost laughed out loud—wasn’t it obvious by now? Regardless, she couldn’t exactly leave now that he had asked her a question, and…well, it wasn’t as if she could possibly embarrass herself anymore than she already had. She took a deep breath, finally raising her gaze to meet his as she gathered her thoughts together enough to form a coherent sentence.

She might not have been flawless, but to him, she was as close to perfection as it got.

Nevertheless, he grew silent as she explained why it was she loved him. The words were almost impossible to believe; it was...strange to hear someone speak of him in such an esteemed manner. It was odd, really, to know that he meant so much to someone. And to realize that his feelings mirrored her own? It was almost too much to handle in one sitting. He'd noticed that she had shifted away from him, and he couldn't help but wonder what was racing through her mind right at this very moment. Did she regret telling him she loved him? Did she wish she could retract the words and pretend the confession had never left her lips? Did she think that his...that his shock and hesitation spoke wonders of his own feelings? Did she think that he didn't feel the same for her that she now clearly felt for him? It was mind-boggling; it was perplexing and mind-numbing and a million different contradictory emotions, and Draco could manage more than to swallow the knot in his throat. Talk. Talk. He needed to think of something to say to her; somehow, he needed to communicate what he felt.

"Granger..." He began, but for once, it didn't feel right to use her surname. It was weird to feel so...detached from what he always called her (on many occasions, it had grown to serve as a sort of pet name for them), but he just didn't think it fit with the situation. Not here; not right now.

She sighed inwardly with relief as she felt his arms slide around her waist and draw her close to his body, relishing in how effortlessly they melded together. The peaks of her breasts brushed against his chest, and as her nipples pebbled and hardened in awareness, she couldn’t help but think about the night that lay ahead of them. That is…that is if he wasn’t too put off by what she was about to tell him. She knew Draco, and she knew that he hated hurting her, but…he didn’t like lying to her, either. If he didn’t feel the same way, he would tell her. He would be gentle, but he would tell her, and she would have to suffer the repercussions. 

But she loved him. She loved him, and right now, she didn’t think she could go another second without informing him of such. She took a deep breath before releasing it, her breath spilling out across Draco’s collarbone as she determinedly resigned herself to what she was about to do—for better or for worse. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, squirming unconsciously as she struggled to piece together her words. She figured it would just be best to improvise, then—wasn’t that what normally got her through?

“Nothing…nothing’s wrong, no,” she assured him quietly, wanting to sooth the worried expression off of his face. “It’s just…I think…Draco, I…” She let out an aggravated exhale, frustrated with herself and her inability to articulate what it was she wanted to say. Huffing, she slid her hands from where they were wrapped around his neck to cup either side of his face, urging him to meet her intent—and slightly scared, if she was being honest—gaze. 

But no...no, she needed to say something, and he was going to let her.

The moment she said nothing was the matter, Draco felt himself relax--only slightly, though. She still seemed apprehensive over whatever news she needed to deliver to him, and it wasn't until she prepared herself to speak that he forced his concentration on her. And then she was...then she was speaking, and she was saying the three words Draco had never, ever believed he would have heard from the Witch seated on top of him. She...loved him; more than that, she was in love with him. Who knows how long she had been? Who knows how long she would be? Draco's throat suddenly felt far too dry, and it seemed as though the world was spinning in circles before him. His fingers trembled slightly from where they clutched at her lower back underneath the warm water, and he swore he could make out nothing amidst the swirls floating about his vision.

Hermione Granger loved Draco Malfoy, and he...he loved her back.

"I..." He began, finding that any sort of response he might have formulated died off the moment he parted his lips. He was speechless; petrified beyond belief and unable to do little more than gaze at her with wide, astonished eyes. He hadn't prepared himself for this sort of confession--especially not tonight of all bloody evenings--and he wasn't sure how to react. He had, after all, never been told such a thing by someone in his entire life. What was someone supposed to even do at a time like this? Was he supposed to thank her? Kiss her? Hug her? Tell her that he'd known all along (he hadn't, for the record)? Draco was clueless--absolutely, positively clueless. So...he said the first thing that came to his mind.

She hummed as he pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss once more, already thinking of the night that lay ahead of them. She wondered what they would end up doing; if they would dedicate the night to teasing the other until they were desperate and begging to come, or if they would come together hard and fast, each of them seeking the sort of relief that only the other could provide. Whatever they ended up doing, Hermione knew that she would love every moment of it. There wasn’t a single second of their naughty escapades that she didn’t enjoy, and a lot of that had to do with how well Draco knew her and her body. He knew exactly what to do to have her whimpering and pleading for him to just touch her, and he also knew just what to do to have her begging for his cock in a matter of moments. So it didn’t matter what it was that they did tonight, because Hermione already knew that it was going to be incredible.

She just hoped he called her baby.

She was more than comfortable with the way her back was pressed against his front, but she was getting a bit of a crick in her neck from the odd position she had to keep it in in order to kiss him. She slowly disentangled her limbs from his and shifted in his lap so that she was straddling him, her thighs parted on either side of his hips and her arms wrapped around his neck. This was one of her favourite positions, if she was being honest, especially….especially when she was riding him. She loved how it felt to thrash her hips wildly against his as she fucked herself on his cock; she loved how hard she always came when she was on top. She…she loved everything about their sexcapades, because she…she…she loved him.

It was something she had been aware of for a while now, but right now, perched in his lap with her body settled intimately against his, the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She loved him—she loved the way he said her name, and she loved the way he kissed and held her like she was something to be treasured. She loved him for how hard he was trying to redeem himself, and she loved him for the good man she knew he had come to be—even if he didn’t agree with her as of yet. She…she loved him, and she needed to tell him.

Because...because whether or not he was willing to admit it to himself (out loud or otherwise), they were in this together now. They were a team, he and she, and he didn't want that to ever change. Because he did care about her--more than he'd ever cared for anyone in his entire life.

Once again, Granger broke Draco away from his thoughts. He blinked twice, in slight shock as she shifted away from him. Had he done something wrong? Was she going to say that she'd had enough for one evening and insist that instead of going to the Room of Requirement, they just head to bed? He couldn't, for the life of him, think of anything he might have done wrong, but debated on asking her. No sooner had his mouth opened to form a question when she was straddling his hips, and Draco inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. So she wasn't upset with him, then...good, because he sure as hell wasn't in the mood to fight with her. He was too tired, it was too late, and the tub they were sitting in was far too soothing. It would be like a perfectly good evening gone to waste.

He pressed against her, shivering slightly as she wound her arms around his neck. Immediately, his hands moved to grip her waist underneath the water, watching her in silence and waiting with bated breath fro her to speak. She seemed...determined, almost; like she had something to get off her chest, and Draco tried to guess what that might have been. He cocked his head to the side slightly, arching one brow and studying her closely. But then she was asking if she could tell him something, an suddenly Draco grew very nervous. His eyebrows drew together and his lip twisted itself into a bemused frown, and after a few moments' worth of silence, he finally managed to nod his head hesitantly; yes, she could go ahead and tell him something.

Oh, she loved when he kissed her. Feeling his lips pressing against any inch of her skin that he chose to lavish with affection was always something she had enjoyed, despite how surprised she had been when he had first began to touch her outside of the bedroom. She hadn’t thought that Draco Malfoy would be capable of or willing to dole out affection, but he was, and he never failed to remind her of that nearly every day. He knew what she liked, and he gave it to her willingly; he knew she liked to be held and kissed, and he never refrained from providing her with either of those things. When it came to physical intimacy, he was always so wonderfully attentive to her body and its inner workings, and…did he just call her baby? He did! He was murmuring against her skin, and Hermione had almost been too distracted by the delicious kisses he was peppering along her exposed collarbone to make out his words, but…there it was. He had called her baby, and Hermione felt her entire being flood with warmth and happiness. Merlin, she hoped that wasn’t the last time he referred to her as such. Just the thought of him…bending his head to mutter out a sinful command and ending it with the word baby as he pounded into her was enough to have her shivering, and she flushed, embarrassed at the sudden turn her thoughts had taken. Godric, what had he done to her?

“Ones that are substantially better than dumpling and sweet pea, at that,” she murmured breathlessly, willingly tipping her head back against his chest for him as he nudged her beneath his jaw. She could feel the wet heat of his tongue as he dragged it along her skin, a soft mewl escaping her as he sucked and kissed all along the exposed flesh of her throat. She was sure she would have an extraordinary amount of hickeys and love bites when he was finished with her, and the thought didn’t bother her in the slightest. She sagged against him contently, wriggling her arse and sliding deeper between his thighs as he treated her to sensual and affectionate kisses. “I think…I think you should call me that more often. Baby, I mean. It’s…it’s nice, and it’s a lot better than referring to me as sweet pumpkin juice, or whatever else was in that ridiculous book of Lavender’s.”

A small array of soft and pleasured noises continued to spill from her lips, despite how hard she was trying to reign them in. He always teased her about how loud she had the tendency to be, but Merlin, she couldn’t exactly help it! His next words—and the way they felt as his lips vibrated against her throat—caused her heart to stutter in her chest. She…she had never thought of herself as particularly sexy, or anything of the sort, so knowing that he…that he considered her as such was both reassuring and more than a little flattering. She was blushing—again, dammit—and she couldn’t deny that it gave her a bit of a thrill to know that he found her more arousing than another Witches (Pansy Parkinson). She slowly turned her head to the side so that his nose was level with her lips, and she used the tip of hers to nudge his upwards so that she could brush her lips against his softly. She slid her hand through the silky water to find one of his, entwining their fingers and squeezing his gently. “Thank you,” she breathed, hoping he realized just how much his compliment had meant to her. “I…do you want to go to the Room of Requirement after this? We can spend the night there, and I can show you just how…erm…just how sexy I think you are.”

He wondered, though...could she tell how much she meant to him? Did she know how often he thought of her when he was alone; how much he craved her presence? Did she know that he had fallen head-over-heels for her? Was it really as obvious as he thought it was, or was he doing a better time of restraining his emotions than he thought himself capable of? He didn't like for everyone to know the inner-workings of his mind and heart, but...he might not have minded if she knew. Just so long as she returned his sentiments, at least. But then that alone begged another question--

Did she return his affections?

Broken out of his thoughts, he felt Hermione's nose nudge against his own, and he willingly obliged to her silent command. He hummed softly against her lips, the action sending a small vibration from his mouth against her own as they kissed tenderly. It was fascinating, the different sorts of kisses they shared with one another; sometimes rough and brutal (those usually ended with swollen, bruised lips), sometimes tender and affectionate, sometimes chaste and loving, sometimes light and lingering. There were a hundred different ways to kiss Hermione Granger, and Draco was more than pleased with dedicating his time to mastering each and every one every time they so much as touched. He loved kissing with her, loved being with her, loved...

He loved her.

"Spending the night in the Room of Requirement sounds nice," He consented in a low murmur, kissing her once more and thinking on the night. His body tingled with delight as images formed in his mind--the thought of her pressing him down on the bed and straddling him as she kissed all along his face and neck...the imagery of her riding him as though her life depended on it, her tender breasts bouncing in the air with each movement as she tossed her head back and screamed his name. Her eyes opened wide in astonishment and her swollen lips parted in a scream of delicious ecstasy. The way her bushy brown hair would spill over her back and her fingers would trail up the creamy expanse of her torso as she squeezed and tugged at the already-hardened buds of her nipples, begging to be touched and impaling herself on his cock repeatedly.

Because what she and Draco had was real. It wasn’t some sort of fling or a relationship that was solely based on physical intimacy—not anymore, anyway—and it wasn’t something she could see herself living without anytime soon. Draco Malfoy was as much of a part of her as her arms and legs were, and she couldn’t care less about what other people had to say about their relationship. He was hers, and she wouldn’t change that for the world. Especially not now while her back was pressed deliciously against his front and the only thing between them was silky water and frothy bubbles. She could feel every muscled and angular inch of him, and she wondered if Draco knew just how…just how much she liked to cuddle with him. She loved to snuggle against him in the late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning after they were both sated and exhausted; she loved how it felt to have his arms wrapped tightly around her as he nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck. She just…she loved being close to him, and she feared that there would ever come a day where she was no longer able to do just that.

She laughed as he scowled and protested her admittedly childish display of affection, knowing that there wasn’t any actual malice in his words. They both teased one another from time to time—it was just how their relationship worked. She had just allowed her eyes to drift shut once more as she rested her head against his chest when he decided to retaliate by smearing bubbles all across her nose. She sputtered and squeaked, the water around them splashing slightly as her arms flailed in protest. “You!” She exclaimed heatedly, turning the full extent of her glare towards him and narrowing her eyes into slits. “Not fair, Draco Malfoy! You seem to forget that I know where you sleep.” She was joking, of course—she wasn’t actually angry as she went about wiping the bubbles from her nose, and even if she had been mad at him, his next words would have placated her immediately. 

And that alone was something that Draco often thought about when he was alone; it was something so huge to come to terms with that on some nights, he wasn't sure he ever would. To do so would be to come to terms with who he'd become; to come to terms with the fact that he was breaking away from hundreds of years of Malfoy tradition, and that both thrilled him and scared the bloody hell out of him. It was extremely conflicting.

He hummed as she laid against him, relishing in the warmth and tenderness her body provided. He could sense her embarrassment at what he'd just stated, and a small snort of snicker escaped Draco's lips before he could even control himself. He met her gaze with twinkling eyes of mirth, and before he could give her time to respond, dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss against the gentle curve of her shoulder. Being with Hermione had taught Draco quite a bit about the exciting components of intimacy, and even when they weren't planning on fucking or fooling around, he enjoyed the small kisses he could lavish her with, because the truth of the matter was--Draco Malfoy wasn't content unless he was pressed up against Hermione Granger in some manner (crude or otherwise, of course).

"Whatever you want, baby," He mumbled against her skin, kissing from where her shoulder began along the plane of her exposed body, working his way across her collarbone. "It would appear I've got a pet name or two up my own sleeve, haven't I?"

Grinning, Draco nudged the underside of her jaw with his nose gently, gesturing for her to tip her head back so that he could lavish her neck with kisses. His mouth was slow and sensual as it worked its way against her skin, his tongue flicking against the sweet, soft flesh of her throat as he softly sucked and kissed at her skin. This was what perfection was--being here with her like this; doing whatever the hell they wanted to one another indefinitely. This could have easily gone on for hours with him; in fact, he was already dreading when it would have to end and they'd be forced to depart and go to sleep.

Because here with her, sitting across from her in the Prefects bathroom, he wasn’t Draco Malfoy, Voldemort’s pawn. He was Malfoy; her Malfoy, and he was grinning and laughing at her as if she was the only thing in the world. He was witty and intelligent and most of all, he was determined to redeem himself in the eyes of the Wizarding world. He had come so far, and Hermione was…she was proud of him. She was proud of what he had and would accomplished, and she was proud to call him her own. She would defend him fiercely if anyone ever tried to berate him for his role in the War, and without mercy, at that. He…he was hers, and therefore, he was hers to protect.

“Oh, they’re not that bad!” Hermione insisted, laughing despite herself as he poked fun at her friends. “They’re just…they’re a bit giggly, is all, and they have some very old fashioned beliefs when it comes to romance. As for them not having boyfriends, however, I think Lavender has her eye on Ron again,” her nose wrinkled distastefully, but her expression shifted abruptly when Malfoy urged her to join him on his side of the tub. She had felt as if they were a little too far apart, admittedly, and she probably would have made her way into his lap even if he hadn’t suggested it. “Of course you couldn’t be the one to come over here,” she remarked teasingly, rolling her eyes playfully as she prepared to join him on the opposite side of the tub.

With her, he felt more like himself than he ever had.

He rolled his eyes as she teased him, scoffing mainly for show as the bubbles and water shifted and stirred around him with Granger's movements. Her body was small and petite--unmistakably feminine--and he loved feeling the press of her form against his own. He'd hugged people before (Pansy bloody Parkinson always made sure of that), but it wasn't the same thing. As ridiculously sappy and cliche as this might have sounded, Draco truly couldn't think of another person in the world whose body molded so perfectly to his own other than Granger's. He was nothing but sharp angles and lean muscle; she was soft curves and contours delicately placed in a smaller frame, and where her curves dipped and curled, the sharp plane of his being fit against them nicely. Pressed together in bed, or on a couch, or even now in the tub, it felt effortless. It felt like coming home, and Draco never wanted that feeling to go away. Not now, or tomorrow, or any day following that. It felt too good to give up, and now that he'd had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with the sensations of her body, he knew he'd rather be damned eternally than give up the pleasure of her presence.

Merlin, he'd really fallen hard for her, hadn't he?

A soft little sigh tumbled from his lips as she pressed against him, and Draco settled more comfortably against the cool, slick wall of the tub. He felt the water slosh around them as it settled, and he watched lazily as Granger toyed with the bubbles surrounding them. He could feel the soft, curly bristles of her hair brush and tickle at the exposed plane of his chest and the defined lines of his collarbone, and the muscles in his shoulders twitched ever so slightly in response to the feather-like contact. He glanced down as she twisted her neck to gaze up at him, sputtering as she smeared bubbles all across the side of her face.

"Hilarious, truly," He scowled, though there was no real malice behind his words. He used the arm that wasn't tucked against her to wipe away the bubbles, scooping them up and brushing them against the slope of her nose. He laughed, shaking his head slightly and relaxing back against the tub once more, turning his head to gaze down at her.

 She really wasn’t trying to…watch or anything as he undressed, really! Her eyes were just—they were automatically drawn to him, and as he began to…shed his clothing and expose more of his lean, Quidditch-toned frame to her, she really didn’t see any sort of reason for her to look away. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him naked before, and…alright, so it might have been a particularly nice sight, but she wasn’t going to go about telling him that anytime soon! His ego was big enough as it is—the last thing he needed to know was that the sight of his nude form did ridiculous things to her insides, even when they weren’t about to engage in a hot a heavy session of intimacy one another. She loved his body; she really did, and…she was his girlfriend. She was allowed to appreciate him in all his pale, masculine glory.

 Her soft smile remained etched onto her features as he joined her in the tub, disrupting the previously tranquil state of the water with his sudden presence. They were both completely naked and surrounded by silky water and fluffy bubbles, and Hermione didn’t think anything could top this—not in her opinion. She liked him like this; smiling (albeit wickedly) and seemingly happy to spend the evening with her. She really, really liked it. As he greeted her, she was suddenly reminded of a conversation she had engaged in earlier with Gryffindor’s two biggest gossips, Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patill. She cleared her throat before she deigned to speak, her cheeks already beginning to fill with warmth.

He supposed some people thought that dating Granger was just part of his elaborate plan to gain redemption, and for those who knew both the Slytherin Prince and Gryffindor's very own Golden Girl, he supposed he understood why so many had come to that assumption. From the outside, a young man desperate to seek a place in a society that wished to reject him would more than likely go to any and all lengths possible to ensuring himself a slot in the ever-changing society of the Wizarding World, but...it wasn't like that. He hadn't meant or intended to fall for Hermione Granger; she had merely...slipped under his skin when he wasn't paying attention. And now that she was deeply rooted inside of him, it was like she was a part of him. There was no getting rid of her, and furthermore, Draco didn't think he ever wanted to. Why lose something that had grown to be so fundamental to his own living? He didn't see the point in resisting something that felt so right.

And here she was seated across from him, and Draco couldn't think of a single place he'd rather be. His nose crinkled in slight amusement as she struggled to call him a stereotypical, disgustingly cliche pet name, cocking his head to the side and watching her in amusement. She then excused her behavior, and Draco's shoulders shook slightly with suppressed, silent laughter as her cheeks flamed a delicious shade of scarlet. The twisted half-grin he was donning stretched further across his face, exposing his bright white teeth to her gaze as his fingers skimmed the top of the silky water. Leave it up to Granger to get that embarrassed over something so trivial.

"I think there's a reason Brown and Patil don't have boyfriends," Draco suggested, both eyebrows arching slightly as he stared at her. His hand snaked across the water, brushing against her forearm underneath the water as he met his gaze.

There was hardly anything that Hermione loved more than a warm bath. She loved how it felt to sink into sudsy, heated water and just forget about any and all stress she might have accumulated during the day. And after a day like today—one that had been filled with numerous tests and an argument with Harry and Ronald over her questionable relationship with one Draco Malfoy—Hermione could honestly say that the only thing that sounded better than a warm bath right now was crawling into bed and sleeping for a solid twelve hours. It was either that or knitting and reading through Hogwarts, a History for what would more than likely be the nth time—but she would probably end up doing that anyways!

 She was glad that Draco had agreed to meet her tonight. During the last month or so of their relationship, Hermione had begun to realize just how much she wanted him around—much more frequently than she had ever imagined. It was after he had referred to her as his girlfriend for the first time that she had started to think more and more about her feelings for him and how they had grown significantly since they had first begun what Hermione had always privately referred to as “their thing”. Now they were officially dating, and the entire school—and a good chunk of the Wizarding world—were more than aware of their relationship. Now that they didn’t have to hide their feelings for one another, she and Draco weren’t exactly…private when it came to showcasing their affection. There had been more than one occasion where they had been forced to guiltily break apart after having been caught snogging in the corridors, and Hermione’s cheeks still flamed every time she recalled the particular instance where Harry had walked in on them in the Gryffindor common room. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days!

 She had finally arrived at the Prefects bathroom, and after giving the required password—minty clean—she entered the room and shut the door behind her, resigning herself to prepare the bath while she waited for her boyfriend. The large, pool-sized bathtubs were nice and all, but Hermione decided that she wanted something a little more…cozy. With that in mind, she made her way over to the circular tub that was about the same size as a Muggle hot tub, complete with a ledge going around the inside rim so that she and Draco could sit or lay comfortably if they chose to do so. It was fairly deep—it would come up to Malfoy’s waist while he was standing, and would probably come just below her breasts, and Hermione thought it was absolutely perfect for the relaxing evening she had planned for them.

It was...something huge to come to terms with, and although it had taken some time and a bit of an inner struggle with himself, he'd somehow managed it.

Tonight, they'd planned to meet in the Prefects bathroom for a nice, warm bath together. It was much needed after the hectic day Draco had endured--a Potions project he'd had to finish up combined with an exhausting Quidditch practice had his bones aching and his head throbbing with the amount of concentration he'd dedicated to for today. He heaved a heavy sigh as he made his way through the deserted corridors of the castle--the inhabitants of Hogwarts had long since headed to bed and he knew it was Slughorn's turn to make rounds for the night, which gave him a bit more leniency when it came to sneaking around the school (he couldn't seem to pay attention long enough to catch any of the students sneaking out, so it was always to Draco's advantage if he planned on sneaking out with Granger on one of his scheduled nights).

Making his way to the bathroom, he mumbled the password and let himself in, his silver eyes scanning the interior of the room before him before settling on the sound of water clinking against porcelain in the corner. He saw Granger in the tub, surrounded by sudsy bubbles as the faucet dribbled out a few last drops of water. The tub was already full, and Draco managed a crooked sort of grin before making his way over to her. He kicked his shoes off first, following by removing his trousers and boxers. After that, he discarded his robes, tie, and shirt,  tossing the remnants of his clothes in a crumpled heap on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair, stepping into the tub slowly and sitting across from her, folding his legs slightly to make more room for the both of them.

Ron was probably looking for her by now, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be with him—not romantically, at least—and as horrible as it sounded, she almost wished that she and Draco could just…run away and leave everyone behind. Maybe then they’d be able to be together they way they were always meant to be. It was a foolish hope, but a hope nevertheless.

She shivered as he settled more intimately against her, her thighs parting instinctively so he could slip between them. His lips were deliciously swollen as they brushed against her own, and she mewled, unable to refrain from remembering the very nights he was referring to. Merlin, they had been like animals—fucking from dusk till dawn and only stopping when moving became damn near impossible. Even then, they would always end up tumbling into the shower, and that was where they would make love. He would slide into her, soft and slow, and thrust sensually against her until they were both sated and satiated. They were…dangerous memories to recall; ones that she had thought about more often than not during their ten years of separation.

And her betrothed wasn't him.

He could feel her shiver against him, and he lifted his hands in favor of rubbing up and down her arms, almost as though he were trying to keep her warm. He doubted she was actually cold, though (who the hell could be--it was bloody burning up in here!). He supposed it was more of...more of a way to try and soothe and calm her. It was weird that even after all this time, making her feel comfortable and relaxed was still one of his priorities. And he hadn't even been aware of it. It was second nature, maybe; something that you learned that never really went away. It was weird to think of things like that; weird to think that what he shared with Granger would never really fade away or disappear. Weird, but in a good way. It helped remind him that what they shared was real--then, over the years, and even now. He just...needed to figure out where they were headed.

Were they headed anywhere, though?

"I want to, as well," He continued, his voice soft as it drifted past his lips and into her ears. "I want to turn back the past; I want to fix whatever the hell went wrong with us--swallow my pride and work things out so that I didn't have to spend ten years alone. So that I didn't have to spend ten years without you, Granger; an entire decade completely bloody wasted."

It was only then, after they'd both confessed their wishes to another, that a sort of tinkling sound filled the rooms. One of the broken Time Turners inside the case Granger was pressed against fell and tangled with a few others, and, unbeknownst to either Malfoy or Granger...it began to spin.

 Still, right here, in this moment, all that mattered was her love for him. Nothing else—no one else—could break them apart right now, of that she was certain. She needed him like she needed each and every one of her limbs and organs, and there was no way she could resume living her life without him after this. No, from here on out, Draco Malfoy was irrevocably stuck inside of her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Their hearts beat in tandem with one another, and Hermione knew that she would never be able to love Ron as much as she loved the man in front of her.

 She felt her heart pounding away in her chest as Draco slid his hands up to cup her face between them, leaning into his touch for the first time in years. It felt so incredibly good for him to touch her, and not for the first time she wondered how she had ever managed to live without it. She laced her arms around his neck like she had been dying to do as soon as they had started arguing and it….it felt right. It felt like home.

 She was close to tears as he began to profess his love for her, taking the words to heart and locking them away forever in case she never heard them again. And then…Merlin, he was saying her name. Her first name. He looked so achingly vulnerable, and there was no doubt in her mind that he felt just as fragile and overwhelmed with emotion as she was.

It was just shocking to him, he supposed, to know that the girl he'd been pining after for years now had felt the very same way all this time. It was hard to believe, especially considering the fact that she had...more or less moved on without him (the thought of which caused an ache to blossom in his chest), but here she was, admitting that no matter what had happened or how much time had passed, she still loved him. She loved him and he loved her. It was with that realization that he couldn't help but agree with her statement. They were, more than likely, the two biggest imbeciles in all of London. All this time spent apart and they could have passed the time together. Ten years gone. Ten years lost. Ten years of desiring and loving a girl who had, in secret, done the same for him.

As much as it pleased him, it also made him sick to his stomach.

"Don't marry him," Draco offered quickly, the suggestion slipping from his lips before he was even able to control himself. It didn't matter, though--it didn't make it any less true. The thought of her walking down the aisle with anyone who wasn't him filled him with both sorrow and rage, and Draco flexed the muscles in his forearms instinctively as he willed the traitorous thoughts to flee from his mind. Not here, not now--why be angry when he could be...could be doing other things.