ಠ_ಠ

The blood was pounding in his veins, and he was putting a heroic yet failed effort towards keeping his hands off her.

“Mmm…” was Granger’s only reply, and Draco suspected she hadn’t heard him because she pressed herself closer. He backed up, trying not to trip over any of the dozens of potted plants scattered around the area, or to accidentally step into one of the glowing pentagrams.

When Draco had heard the week before that several eighth years were planning to sneak out and perform a Beltane sex ritual in the Forbidden Forest, he dismissed it. Fertility rituals were intensely private magic, not something anyone with respect or common sense would enter into experimentally while attending school.

Ravenclaws.

Fuck all Ravenclaws.

If Draco got his way, their house points would be in the negatives for the remainder of the year.

Once he and Granger finished dragging all the barely-clad and incoherently high students out of the Forbidden Forest, he’d known they should seal the area, inform McGonagall, and stay well away until Beltane had passed.

He was about to leave when Granger looked up at him, her eyes alight with burning curiosity. “Have you ever seen the ritual?”

Draco hadn’t.

He had come across some extremely graphic journals in the family library, but he’d never personally witnessed even the Beltane bonfire rites. Old magic rituals and holidays weren’t something that respectable pureblood families still did.

Granger slipped back through the wards they’d cast to keep away students, and Draco hesitated for a few minutes before following her. His intentions had been entirely borne of intellectual curiosity.

It seemed sound in theory that if they stayed away from the pentagrams, they wouldn’t be too affected.

Granger had been over near the bonfire, and Draco was trying to read the runes in one of the pentagrams when her hand brushed against his arm.

“Draco,” she said when he looked over at her, “I can help you.”

She moved closer and Draco couldn’t bring himself to back away. Being Heads together for the entire school year had managed to transform his passing fancy into a chronic state of pining that he intended to get over as soon as he didn’t have to work with her on a daily basis.

Granger had Weasley waiting for her post-graduation. Draco was not foolish enough to interpret her collegial professionalism and their shared study times as anything but courtesy, regardless of how much he wanted to.

But now she was unbuttoning his shirt, and Draco stood there dumbly, unable to make himself move away when her fingertips began tracing patterns across his bare skin and then she leaned forward and pressed her warm, soft lips over his heart.

He groaned and pulled her closer, crushing her against his chest and kissing her the way he’d fantasized about for months. A rush of desire flooded through him as he finally held her in his arms. She wanted him. They were meant to be together.

His hands ran along her body, caressing her soft skin and exploring her every curve as he relished the sinful taste of her lips, kissing her more and more deeply.

Then she started glowing.

He blinked and dazedly discovered that he’d not only nearly stripped her, but also somehow covered her in runes and sigils; some of which he could read, and a number of which he couldn’t.

It very belatedly dawned on him that they were two people standing in a heavily magical glade with a half-dozen pentagrams drawn into the soil, located on the grounds of a positively ancient castle steeped in generations of magic.

Granger pulled his lips back against hers, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him back.

“Granger—we have to—leave…” He managed to tear himself free before her fingers found his belt.

He dazedly backed away and made it halfway across the glade before his heel caught a tree root and he landed squarely in the center of one the circles.

Granger followed him, crawling into his lap, her eyes were hazy and distant in the heavy thrall of the throbbing magic surrounding them.

“Granger…” His throat was so thick he was hardly able to speak, and then her mouth was on his and he didn’t want to. He kissed her again with a groan of longing. His arms wrapped around her body, running his fingers over her spine and feeling her tremble as his tongue swept against her lips.

She pushed him flat on his back, and he could feel a tidal wave of magic flood up from the ground, rushing through his veins. Granger was sitting astride him, her hips rolling against his. Her eyes were dark with lust, and magic was radiating out of her through every rune he’d drawn on her skin.

All the dreams and unspoken desires he had were written across her body.

Her hand brushed gently along his left arm and he instantly stiffened and tried to pull it away. She caught his wrist in her hands.

”Do you believe in me, Draco?” Her eyes were flooded with magic.

He nodded slowly.

She looked down and with her fingertip began drawing rune after glowing rune over his Dark Mark. They glowed brighter and brighter and as he watched, the Mark vanished from his skin.

He looked up at Granger, stunned. Her eyes were clearer, still dark and burning, but no longer hazy under the thrall.

She smiled at him and leaned forward until the length of her body was pressed against his and he could feel the heat of her breath on his lips as they lay together, bathed by the moon and the flickering firelight.

“Beltane is to cleanse and purify,” she said, “and then begin anew.”