Triumvirate

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the songs included in this fanfic nor do I make money off them. These stories are for entertainment only

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A/N: I know that many of you are very curious about Draco’s curse and about all of them coming together. All of these things will be given to you, in their own time. I am deeply touched my the reviews, and I thank each of you readers for your input. I hope this story will never disappoint you.







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Yearning, burning

For you to justify my love



What are you gonna do?

What are you gonna do?

Talk to me -- tell me your dreams

Am I in them?

Tell me your fears

Are you scared?

Tell me your stories

I'm not afraid of who you are

We can fly!



Justify my love - Madonna



The car bumped along the back roads leading towards France. Draco was more willing to take turns now, allowing Hermione to drive. He tried very hard not to think on how she tasted, how she felt. How these things effected him.



She was not for him. Had never been.



Hermione watched the snow covered scenery flash by through the tinted window, her glamour was once again as his wife. Two muggles traveling. She tried very hard not to think of how his touch remained imprinted on her. The heat of his hands, the spice of his skin, the power of that mouth.



She was a muggleborn after all and he… he was the slytherin prince. A pureblood, and no matter that he served Harry, such long standing feelings would never be fully put to rest. Would they?



“You ok?” he asked, pulling her from her reverie.



They had been quieter since the lust dust incident. Neither really wanting to explore what had happened, both lost in their respective misguided haze of thoughts.



She nodded, “You look a bit tired. Want me to take the wheel for a bit?”



He shook his head, “It’s been nearly three days of driving non-stop. We’re both tired and since Cain and Saya have taken to scouting ahead, I think it best to stop for a bit.”



“Is that safe?”



“You tell me great head of intelligence.”



She smirked, “Fine. There can’t be any harm for a few hours. After all I can use my wand now.”



“True. Haven’t you gotten to wandless magic yet?”



“I have, but I’m not as good at it as Harry is. You?”



“Fair.”



The conversation died away as they drove on. Icy roads and frosted trees making her suddenly nostalgic.



“It will be Christmas soon” she murmured.



Draco cocked his head, cutting his eyes to the side to take in her profile. Long lashes and pert nose. “So it will be” he agreed, though his tone lacked any of the comfort she had expected.



Oh that was right. His mother was dead, only a talkative portrait in Harry’s personal study. And his father. Well, she’d been there when he’d died. Never had she seen Harry so cold. So dark. Except perhaps with Bellatrix.



Harry. Ron. Her friends. She would have a happy Christmas. What about Draco? Off to some obscure corner of the world carrying out the commands of the great Lord Potter?



“Draco” she said softly, “Can I ask you something?”



He grunted as he took a curve.



“I’d like to know… about your ..curse”.



There it was. The question that had been burning a whole in her brain for weeks now. Out in the open. She’d meant to ease into the subject, not just drop it like a lead balloon.



She scrunched her face up at her own idiocy. “Sorry.”



His knuckles were white on the wheel and his silver eyes locked straight ahead, “Nothing to say really” he said in a flat tone, “I’m cursed and that’s it.”



She turned to face him, “Draco, please… if you would only tell me.. I co..”



“What?” he cut her off, “help me?”



Her mouth opened but he wouldn’t allow her to speak, “Leave it. There is nothing to be done for it. Doesn’t matter anyway.”



The last was a quiet mutter but she heard it all the same.



Lifting her chin, she reached over and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. The car slowed before coming to a stop on the empty stretch of road.



“It matters to me.”



Silver eyes searched copper, seeking any trace of mockery but found none. Only conviction.



“Why?” he managed to ask a moment later.



Her palm cupped his cheek gently and she smiled, a faint smile. “Because you saved me.”



His eyes began to chill and she pressed her finger to his lips, “Because you are not all winter and cold in there Draco Malfoy. Under all that ice is a good man. My friend. I want to know, so I can try and break the curse. Because no one should have to live like that. You are a pompous ass who needs to stop shutting people out,”



He blinked. No one had said such things to him, since the night that Harry Potter had saved him. He was not a good man, he wasn’t well liked. He wasn’t a hero. But he wanted to be.



Then Hermione surprised him, leaning forward and touching her nose to his, in a move that was far more intimate than any kiss he’d ever had. “And you are damn sexy too.” She added a wink to her saucy comment and it took his breath away.



“Hermione Granger” he chided quietly, “Are you flirting with me?”



She laughed lightly, “You have no idea.”



Then she fixed him with a gimlet stare, “So talk.”



He chuckled at her persistence, “Can’t, sorry. It can’t be said, only seen.” His eyes lost the laughter as he said it. And she could almost hear hope flee his voice.



“So show me.”



His jaw flexed and she thought she saw worry there written in silver, “Not on your life.”



She started to argue but he slammed his hand against the wheel, shutting her up.



“Look, be my friend, be my enemy, be my bloody lover but not my would be savior. I won’t have you feeling miserable because you couldn’t help.”



His voice was loud, a growl to it. And Hermione was at a loss, whether it was because he could be right, there was no help, or because he’d nearly asked her to be his lover, she wasn’t certain.



Draco sat stiff, silent and tense. Waiting for the fallout from rash words. Gods had he really just said that? Damn it, he knew that he shouldn’t have lost his temper.



Hermione felt time slow into the span of heartbeats. She had a choice, she realized and this was a turning point.



All her life she’s played it straight. Doing what she ought to, not always what she wanted to. Rarely indulging in living her life. She had only ever done so three times and none of those times, she carried regrets for.



The first being to follow Harry wholeheartedly. The second and third, her choice of the only two lovers she’d ever known.



She bit her lip as she considered what she could say, what she would say.



“I’m sorry” he said quietly, “ I shouldn’t have said such things to you.”



She was staring at her lap and Draco felt like a heel. Her lip trembled, gods had he made her cry? With a soft curse he shoved the car in gear and got them moving again.



Neither spoke a word until the pulled into a small town with a comfortable looking if homey inn.



Draco led her inside, helping her up the iced stairs and made arrangements for the room. Hermione was silent as he asked for the single room, supposing that Cain and Saya were taking refuge elsewhere. She barely registered Draco’s hand on her arm, urging her to move again.



Up the polished wooden steps. Down the cheerfully lit all, a spruce at the far end. Shining with lights and red and gold ornaments. So cheerful, so normal.



Draco put the key in the lock, pushing to door wide, and letting her step into the warm interior.



He flipped the switch to the lamp and she saw the large bed, the unlit fireplace.



Draco sealed the door with magic, warding it against all harm. “Go take a bath Hermione. It’s late and you are tired.”



His voice was quiet, calm, far too courteous.



“I’m hungry” she said at last, “Will you come with me to the restaurant downstairs?”



He nodded, feeling a little hungry himself. So they dropped their coats and went down to see what food they could get.



As they tucked into a meal of beef and potatoes, with red wine, Draco wondered what he could say to ease the tension.



“Have you had many?” she asked then.



He blinked, “What?” His bite of food frozen half way to his mouth.



“Lovers.”



What the hell was this? At least she was speaking.



“Yes.” His voice was cautious but not ashamed.



She finally looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes, “Guess that means you know what you’re doing. Judging by what Pansy and Pavarti and even Luna had to say. You have always been dominant then?”



“Yes” he said simply, “I have.”



“So you like tying girls up and beating them then.”



“What?” he asked, his mouth going dry. This couldn’t be happening.



“It isn’t about pain Hermione, but pleasure. Some people just prefer things less …vanilla.”



“Vanilla?” she asked.



“Yes you know how they compare people’s sexuality to ice cream flavors. Vanilla, plain old same old sex, Mint Chip a little kink every now and again and Rocky Road.”



“R..ocky road?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes wide.



Her curiosity was delicious to him.



Leaning closer he nodded, “When you want your sex like dark chocolate and red wine. Deep, dark, intoxicating. When pleasure and pain blend on that delirious edge and you lose track of where you end and your lover begins.”



She was flushed now, and he delighted in that reaction.



“And that is you?”



He leaned back with a throaty chuckle, “Love I am the embodiment of rocky road.”



She looked down.



“What about you?” he recovered.



“Ermm…. Mint chip?”



He rolled his eyes, “Doubt it. Lovers?”



She smirked setting her glass aside, “Quite a few”.



Draco wondered what imp had crept in and replaced Hermione Granger but if this was the light sided dinner chat she wanted, so be it.



“Little liar” he replied.



She blinked. Busted. “Ok. Two” she admitted.



“Weasle and Lord Potter” he guessed.



She chuckled shaking her head, making a face, “Not Ron, gods no!”



Potter then. Well, he’d always assumed it.



“Hmm, the Bulgarian. Krum was it?.”



“No. Not dumb Krum either.”



A mystery. Hmm. Those he liked. They took his mind off the grim realities of his world.



“There was no one else you were close to.” he mused, “Give a hint?”



“Well he was a little on the dark side, and older man.”



Draco frowned, “Merlin’s beard not with Black! He was old enough to be your dad!” He looked positively ill at the thought.



Hermione laughed, “No, not him. But same age bracket.”



He sat quietly mulling things over. “I know him?”



She nodded, “You did, quite well.”



Did. Past tense. Gone.



Who?



For several minutes she watched him wonder as though all the answers to all the world’s questions were weighing down on him.



“Who?” he finally asked, “And don’t make me wait or you’ll get a punishment game.” His tone was teasing.



She blushed prettily and he tucked that away for future reference. Hmm, curious indeed.



“Your godfather” she said in a level tone.



Draco launched wine halfway across the table with his startled laugh. “You did not just say that” he cried, “No way. You and Snape!?”



His laughter was infectious and she joined him. It was odd now that she thought about it.



“No” she said at last, “Severus was quite, skilled.”



Draco blotted wine from his shirt as he stared at her, “You’re serious.”



She nodded.



“Snape and then Lord Potter? Isn’t that two different ends of the spectrum?”



She shrugged, “Not really, no.”



“I would have thought Sev would be rocky road himself.”



She smiled then, recalling the oddly tender touches of the misunderstood man, the flashes of that dominant spark. “I think he held it in check for my sake. Young and uncertain. Didn’t want to scare me I suppose.”



“Those are your two?”



“Mhmm. Been a long time though.”



Her finger ran around the edge of the wineglass. Waiting.



“How long?” His voice was strained.



She studied him for a long moment, “Nearly two years.”



Draco winced, “Two years without sex?”



She nodded, “Well unless you count the other night.”



“You don’t” he said firmly.



She shrugged, “Then yes, two years.”



“You fighting with Harry?” he asked.



“No” she said with a soft smile, “We’ve just been busy, haven’t really seen each other for more than a few minutes at a time.”



He drank the last of his wine, “Yes well, life does take a backseat when you are conquering the world through warfare.”



She was silent again. Lost in thought. She mulled over his words, that liquid silver gaze, equally silver tongue. Oh, Draco Malfoy was dangerous. On so many levels.



“Plans for when this all ends?”



She shook her head, “No. Just trying to survive it.”



“You love him?”



“Of course” And she did. Always had. Always would. Harry, poor complicated, powerful, fragile Harry.



“Of course”, Draco set the empty glass down, toying with the stem, “Lucky bloke”.



She looked away from his face and then lifted her eyes back to the silver depths of his. “But..”



He rose, tossing muggle money on the table and holding his hand out to her, “But?”



She looped her arm through his, “Sometimes it’s confusing” she admitted as they climbed the stairs, “I keep thinking of who I am, and what I do…”



“Go on”



“Well don’t you ever want something that may not be good for you?” she asked.



Oh did he.



“Of course. What is it that you are wanting?”



She looked up at him, as they neared the door of the room. Her heart lodging in her throat. Dare she say?



“Did you mean it?”



His pale brow furrowed in confusion, “Mean what?”



“About being your friend?”



“Oh. Yes of course.”



“And the other?”



Awareness lit those pale eyes. Now or never Malfoy. “Yes.”



She bit her lip, feeling her body heat under the weight of his knowing gaze. She was more than aware of what those hands, that mouth could do to her. Leave her a quivering, useless mass of sated flesh. And he’d barely gotten started with her.



My god. If they did this, would there be anything left of her come morning? Anything not burned to ashes by his wintry fire or branded by him?



He backed her towards the door, “Tell me Mione. What is it that you want?”



There was hunger in those eyes, in that voice. Hunger that she felt as well. Undeniable, heady, consuming. What was it that drew her to him so?



He stalked closer, pressing her against the wooden panel. His body pressed to hers from shoulders to thighs. “Tell me.” he commanded, “Do you want me?”



His hand lifted to her stroke her cheek, push her hair to the side. He stroked against her neck, fingers circling her throat, thumb rubbing against the furious pulse point. “Do you want to be mine? Consumed by me? Know what its like to beg pleasure from a master’s hand?”



She should be shoving him away, his words dark and deadly. But her body throbbed for him, her knickers wet and slick.



His face was close to hers now, nose brushing against her jaw, her ear, asking, whispering, murmuring what he could do to her, like dark incantations that set her aflame.



“Answer me.” he growled.



And she did, as if from far off, hearing that breathless voice float upwards and outwards, “Yes.”



Draco’s mouth was hard and hot against hers, his hands tangling in her hair, drawing her head back to the angle that pleased him most. His teeth catching her plump lower lip to bite down just hard enough to make her gasp.



His tongue swirled in then, a heated hungry brush. And Hermione knew she was lost. Perhaps forever.