Learning Her Ropes

TITLE: Learning Her Ropes

CHAPTER: Two – Hope to Touch

AUTHOR: Zephyr

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: D/Hr

SUMMARY: Draco has been acting strangely and Hermione wants to find out why but she ends up getting more than she bargained for.

GENERAL WARNINGS: This fic contains images of discipline, bondage, sadism, masochism, Dominance and submission but does follow the rules of Safe, Sane and Consensual. If you don’t like images of this nature please turn back now. The story will only delve deeper into the kinks of a Male Dom and a Female sub. I can only promise that as tame as it begins that by the time I’m done not many kinks will be left to explore.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: S/M, hints of slash, hair fetish, oral

A/N: Suggestions for further kinks are welcome. Thank you to Dryad, my beta with the cast iron mind.

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Draco slid out of bed and wrapped the silk robe more tightly around his body before turning to the fireplace. In a moment he had a cheery warm fire going in the grate. Slipping his wand into a pocket of his robe, he settled down again to watch her sleep. A part of him was still in a deep state of shock, as if his mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that she was truly here, sleeping in his bed.

He dreamed of this moment for years to have his one-time bitter rival willingly in his bed. The only thing missing was the feel of her skin on his hands. But he couldn’t touch her yet; subjecting her to his curse so soon would only serve to drive her away. He couldn’t take that. Not when she finally came to him of her own accord.

He removed the tight leather gloves and stared hopelessly at thekly kly yellow tinge that enveloped his hands. This was his penance for refusing the Dark Mark to the Dark Lord’s face.

It was in an instant of clarity as he bent to kneel at the Dark Lord’s feet that Draco realized that kneeling at some trumped up wizard’s mouldy feet was not where he was suppoto bto be. He was a Malfoy. He was better than other wizards. He probably shouldn’t have said so aloud but the audacity of the young is rarely tempered with wisdom.

The next moments were a blur but he relived the memories of the jet of bright sickly yellow light coming for him often. He didn’t know what manner of magic addled his mind that night but whatever it was it probably saved his sorry soul. Inse mse moments of suspended reality the curse looked like a snitch streaking toward him and in that moment he thought that he’d just catch it. Catching a snitch wasn’t hard, it was something he did nearly every day since the day he first mounted a broom. The sick yellow light came for him and he caught it, easily, two handed, as if it was one of the red quidditch quaffles. He had it just for an instant in his hands. It hovered over his open palms before slowly falling to his the bare flesh of his hands. In a flash, the ball of light disappeared into his skin and the sick yellow glow enveloped his hands to the wrist. A single awful scream was wrenched from his throat as his hands painfully convulsed once then glowed dimly with the light of the Cruatius curse.

With a flash of inspiration Draco rose to his feet and took two running steps toward Voldemort, catching one of the wizard’s hands in his own before the dark wizard could react. With wide red eyes blazing Voldemort let out an unholy scream and Draco could feel the way his touch turned the Dark Lord’s nerve endings to fire and twisted his mind with the unrelenting pain.

Over Voldemort’s screams Draco heard several loud pops, but he didn’t let go. He kept his hands locked on the wizard’s. It wasn’t until Potter was at his side, looking grim and resolute, that he let go. Draco laid three fingers on Potter’s wand just as he opened his mouth to cast the final curse.

When Harry looked at him in askance Draco just ghim him a grim smirk, “Trust me, Potter. Just this once, trust me.”

Harry nodded and leveled his wand once more at Voldemort. “Avada Kedavra.” The words of the killing curse were uttered in a seemingly calm voice, laced with intense pain and grief that was so tightly reigned in, so completely hidden that it took being close to the boy-who-lived to truly notice the play of his emotions behind his green eyes.

The green jet of light shot from Harry’s wand but was laced with a curling tendril of bright sickly yellow. Through his touch to Harry’s wand Draco could feel the curses combining becoming more powerful, and more terrible together than they were apart. When the combined curses hit Voldemort, his eyes snapped to the two boys that had been bitter enemies for so long standing together against him and his pain filled shriek filled the night air. It took several seconds for the malignant red glow of Voldemort’s eyes to die and a silvery mist rose from the falling body.

Before anyone on either side could react a swirling portal opened and a red-clawed hand shot out and snatched the swirling mist as if it was solid and pulled it into the vortex. Voldemort was finally well and truly dead.

In the weeks that followed Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, were hailed together as heroes until Draco shook the new Minister of Magic’s hand at a ceremony awarding him the Order of Merlin. Amelia Bones crumpled with a horrific scream. Since that evening his hands had been graced by the tight formfitting black leather gloves but from that day forward Draco couldn’t go any where publicly with out every witch or wizard within touching distance recoiling from him. Draco distanced himself from Lucius and the Malfoy Estate after his father once again pleaded Imperius curse at his trial. Malfoy was not a name to be connected with.

He took the small inheritance that he received when Grandmamma Black passed away and bought a row house in Knockturn Alley. It took time but he was able to transform the crumbling building into a comfortable home, certainly not up to the standards of what he had grown up with but comfortable. Over time, when his funds were looking incredibly lracoraco sought a way to create cash flow with out lowering himself to having to take a dreary ministry job.

Fortuna smiled on him, or frowned, depending on the way he looked at it on any particular day and Désirs d'Obscurité fell into his lap almost literally. He was very surprised when a very agitated ex-death eater, Nathan Mulciber stopped him one day several years ago outside Fortescue’s. Suffice it to say that he was offered a large sum of money for an hour of his time. After that it seemed that he never had to worry about money again. He had become a Professional Dominant. At first, his clientele were mostly ex-Death Eaters that still craved (for reasons that Draco understood only on an intellectual level) the harsh, sometimes abusive treatment they had become accustomed to under the Dark Lord and their curiosity about the true consequence of the reclusive Malfoy’s touch. Then, slowly, he began to be sought out, not for the services he provided but for use of his facility. In the last two years his home had become a sanctuary for the deviants of the wizarding world. The dues he charged his clients were hefty but then in his establishment they had the security of knowing that what they did there stayed there and it was a safe place for upstanding scions to indulge their prurient desires.

He was now getting his fondest wish; the chance to introduce his witch to those libidinous desires, the dark pleasures that his home held in store for all that passed through its doors. If her reactions to him thus far were any indication then her capacity for the dark side of pleasure was untapped and alive just beneath the surface of the calm, cool and collected ministry employee.

He joined her on the bed again after sliding his hands back into the tight protective gloves and slipping into a pair of silk lounge plants. He had some business to conduct in a little while but he had time enough to watch her sleep.

Silently he watched as the first stirrings of wakefulness cross her sleep-softened features. Her eyes fluttered and she languidly stretched her body reminding him of the lithe great cat that was the mascot of her house. She was his lioness, he knew that she wasn’t submissive by nature but he also knew that sometimes the most dominant people needed the release of submission in the bedroom. He sensed that in her. Over the years he developed an almost uncanny ability to discern that need in those around him.

He reached out and stroked his finger over her cheek and she turned slightly to nuzzle his hand. Her eyes slowly opened and she regarded him with a small smile.

“Good morning, love,” Draco said softly and leaned down to kiss her softly.

“Good morning,” Hermione replied blushing a little.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asked gently.

“Good, better than good,” Hermione replied with a small smile.

“Brilliant,” Draco said then drew her into his arms to kiss her. “About yesterday and last night…”

“It’s all right,” Hermione said softly. “I am glad that I am finally figuring out the enigma that is Draco Malfoy.”

With a true smile Draco drew her from the bed and through to the bath. By way of caressing touches and soft compliments he had Hermione settled in a warm fragrant bath. As he turned to leave, giving her privacy, her voice stopped him at the door.

“Draco?”

He turned back to her and nearly groaned at the sight of the wet vixen in the big claw foot tub. Her steam dampened curls sticking to her face. “Relax and take your bath. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll be back soon to show you the rest of my… home.”

He couldn’t help himself; she looked so delectable sitting there in the sing ing water. He crossed the tiled floor and buried his hands in her hair and capturing her lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Silently frustrated that he couldn’t feel the texture of her hair through the supple leather gloves he reluctantly pulled away.

He closed the door behind him and took a moment to calm himself before calling a house elf to him. “Drowsy, I have a guest that is very important to me. Take care of her will you?”

“Yes, Master. Drowsy takes care of your lady.” The little elf’s ears flapped with every bob of its head.

Draco smiled at the elf and left the chamber knowing Hermione was in Drowsy’s capable hands. Draco stalked through the quiet halls and with a wave of his wand released the wards on the door to his office. A short time later Lucius Malfoy strode in through the door looking impeccable as ever.

Draco stayed seated and didn’t offer his father a place to sit. He watched the man whose blood he shared take in his state of dress with an appalled sneer.

“Couldn’t you even dress properly to meet with your dear father? Or must you flaunt your—business every time I call?”

His father’s cold voice didn’t affect him as is once did. He could take cutting remarks like this with out so much as a raised eyebrow, knowing that his indifference would only infuriate his father more. “Why would I want to do that father? I allow you to use my facilities for free for which, I am sure you are grateful.”

Draco’s was the only place Lucius could sate his sadistic nature without falling on the wrsideside on the law once more. But then, no other house in the district would have him either.

“Blast it boy. Must you always throw that in my face?” Lucius turned furious eyes on his son.

“Father you make it too easy. Now then, what can I do for you today?” Draco asked.

“I have come to talk to you about the future Draco.” Lucius had an ugly little gleam in his eye that told Draco that he was not going to like what his father had to say.

“My future is here, father, away from the manor and everything in it.” Draco said with quiet resolution.

“Draco, keep the mudblood here as your mistress, I don’t rightly care, but you must marry well and do your duty as a Malfoy,” Lucius said quietly.

Draco clenched his fists and shot from his chair, “I never want to hear that word in my presence again.” Draco pulled a glove from his hand and held his naked hand in front of his father’s face. “If I ever hear that word used in relation to Hermione again I promise, you will feel pain like you never have before.” In his anger the glow around Draco’s hand pulsed heatedly.

Lucius took a step back. He had heard about the agony Draco’s touch could inflict. Lucius liked to impose pain; not be on the receiving end of it. “Don’t you threaten me, boy.”

“Get out,” Draco said fisting his naked hand. “Stay away from me, father. Stay away from me and mine.”

“A pureblood heir, Draco,” Lucius growled before sweeping out of the study.

When the door closed behind his father Draco slammed his fist down on his desk. Damn the man. Draco ran his hand through his hair then stared at the bright glow. “Fuck.”

Draco touched a miniature broomstick on the mantle with his wand and it disappeared with a small pop.

Draco knew from experience that he had to release some of the rage-induced power before it started turning inward. Only one person could take it, one person who craved pain like this. It was one of the reasons he was one of the top quidditch seekers in all of England.

Draco left the study and went to his private room in the basement of the house where the more lethal implements were kept and the stronger healing draughts as well. He entered the room and his willing victim was already there stripped to thest ast and kneeling on the cold stone floor.

“Hello, pet,” Draco said fondly.

“Sir,” came the reply of the familiar voice.

Draco stepped before the kneeling man and stroked his cheek with his still leather gloved hand. “Are you ready?” Draco asked the raven-haired man.

Draco smiled as a shiver ran though the prostrate man. "Yes," was his only breathless reply.

Draco removed his other glove and dropped it on the floor in front of his enthusiastic target and slowly ran his finger over toned skin. Draco watched as white even teeth bit ia fua full pink lip in an effort to keep from crying out. “Scream for me. I want to hear you,” Draco instructed, relishing the first cry as Harry Potter let go.

_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_

An hour later, his hands returned to their leather prisons, Draco stroked Harry’s cheek as he curled up on the soft pallet in a corner of the room. He lifted his head and helped him drink a restoring potion. He brushed his one time lover’s damp hair off his forehead.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Draco asked softly as he dimmed the lights with a wave of his wand.

“Peachy.” Harry’s voice was raw and scratchy.

“Next time, don’t let me go so long. I like causing you pain, Harry, but I don’t want to kill you in the process,” Draco said softly. Sometimes, Draco was afraid that Harry wouldn’t ask him to stop, that he wouldn’t notice when the green-eyed hero had enough. “Rest as long as you need. I’ll check on you in a little while, all right?” But Harry had already fallen asl


Draco set a house elf to watch over his friend and finally returned to Hermione. On the walk from the basement dungeons he was trying to come up with the right thing to tell her. Could he tell her what he had just done to her best fri Tru True, Harry invited every touch that made his back arch and screams tear from his throat. But what if Hermione didn’t understand that, couldn’t understand that?

Draco slid silently into his bedchamber and his eyes heated at the sight before him. All his worries fled from his mind, dressed in a silky gown that clung to every curve, Hermione was seated on a low stool and Drowsy was running a brush through her long et het hair. Now that her hair fell nearly to her waist the the sheer weight of it kept it from being bushy. The sight of all that glorious hair reminded Draco of an old fantasy that had always served to relieve him when he wanked behind the curtains of his bed in the Hogwarts dungeons.

“Drowsy,” His sudden voice made both elf and woman jump, “you may leave us.”

“Yes, master,” the elf said with a bob of its floppy ears and disappeared.

Draco crossed the room to Hermione and pulled her up against him for a kiss. “You have the most glorious hair, Hermione. I want to indulge a fantasy of mine,” Draco said huskily. He drew her over to the bed and laid her down with her head hanging over the edge of the bed.

He gathered her hair into his hands and let the soft strands fall like water through her fingers. He shed his robe and the loose black pants and wrapped his fist around himself. His other hand gathered her long locks and he wrapped her hair around his cock. He was in heaven, the feel of her hair sliding over him was just as he fantasized and he groaned aloud. He looked down on her with heavy lidded eyes.

“Play with your titties, love.” With a slight blush staining her cheeks but she cupped her breasts over the midnight satin of the gown. He could see her pinch her nipples through the satin and he almost spilled in her hair when her eyes half closed and a soft sigh escaped her lips. He felt like the untried boy he once was. He threw his head back and felt drunk on the sensation of the silken glove of her hair until it was gently pulled from his grasp.

Draco looked down in time to see her pink tongue dart out and lick a wet line up the underside of his prick then catch the drops of precome dripping from his tip. He buried his hands in her hair when she took him fully in her mouth and let her use her mouth to make love to him. He couldn’t hold back any longer and thrust deeply into the wet cavern of her mouth over and over until he finally spilled his seed. He watched with a silly curl of male satisfaction as she looked into his eyes and swallowed.

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A/N:I Hope you all are enjoying this fic. Next chapter will have more explanation and more smut. I hope I haven’t squicked anyone, yet. Yes, squickier smut is coming I am toying with several ideas and I fully expect flames for some of them. But don’t worry I will be judicious in my pre-chapter warnings.

Chapter 3 – a tour, voyeurism, twincest, threesome