Finding Freedom

The rest of the ceremony was been a blur for the just marrieds. Draco was mingling as he was expected to do by his father. Hermione on the other hand was frantically moving between guests balancing polite smiles with hissed attempts at shutting up her two best friends who had not stopped insulting Malfoy since the ceremony. Finally when they were out of the way of the rest of the gathering, Under some trees by the creek, she turned on them in true Hermione style using her bossiest voice.

“Will you two shut up? Just for five minutes? I mean God, I know he’s a complete arsehole and I know that we all hate him and quite frankly I’ve heard most of your other witty remarks at least a hundred times before, and yes, they are as true now as they were the first time, but honestly, I am now married to ‘fuck-face-ferret-boy-should’ve-hexed-his-balls-off-when-I-had-the-chance’ and I will be departing on honeymoon with the jerk in about twenty minutes, so can you please give it a rest?!”

“Honeymoon?” Both boys asked. Hermione sensed storm clouds on the horizon.

“Yes, well, those were my sentiments exactly, but apparently the Malfoy’s have some ridiculous family tradition which means I have to spend a week alone with Draco in the fucking lake district. Hopefully the house will be so big that we won’t have to see each other. That would be the best possible outcome in any case.”

“Oh yeah? So since when have you started calling him ‘Draco’? Ron demanded angrily.

“Ronald! He’s my husband? What am I supposed to call him, Malfoy? That’s my name too now, remember?”

“You do realise that you can’t spend the whole week avoiding him. I read the Marriage Act and well… it says that newly married couples have to, err… ‘consummate their union’ on the night of the wedding. If they don’t their marriage is made void, wands are snapped and umm, well… you know the rest.” Harry said softly, wary of the rising colour of Ron’s cheeks.

“No, no way! No way is that scummy little ferret going to… going to do those…things! Not t-to our Hermione! Never!”

“Sorry Ron, it’s the law…” Hermione trailed off, barely finishing her sentence before the ranting began again. She was saddened by the fact that Ron had gone back to treating her as a comrade, rather than anything more. She knew that it was easier for him this way, but it was painful to think that all the intimate memories that they had shared were now gone like they had never existed. It was how it had always been now. She was ‘our’ Hermione, not ‘my’ Hermione.



She was shaking her head or nodding at odd intervals throughout the latest of Ron’s rants where she heard a familiar voice off in the distance inquiring in one of his more arrogant tones, “Have you seen my wife?” She sighed as seconds later he appeared.

“What is it Malfoy?” Ron demanded savagely.

“It’s time for my wife and I to take leave,” he drawled, holding out his hand towards Hermione.

“Yeah, well, in your dreams Malfoy!” Ron shouted.

“No, Weasley, I don’t have to dream about her, I have her all to myself,” he said, shooting a lewd regard over Hermione that swept over her curves. She responded to this by rolling her eyes, but offered no other opposition so he continued, “While you, poor Weasel, are left to spend sleepless nights jerking off to the fantasy that is my reality.”

“WHY YOU -”

“Ronald! That is quite enough!” Hermione cried, exasperated beyond all reason, turning to her husband she stated simply, “Malfoy, get lost.”

“Not without you, my one, my only, my Granger. It’s time to go, so say goodbye to Weasel and Scarface and come with me.”

“Don’t do it Hermione, stay here.” Ron pleaded.

“Sorry, Ron, its part of my contract.” She said and then shooting Malfoy a death glare that could have frozen an Eskimo she pushed roughly past him and walked back towards the reception. Draco turned, giving ironic farewell kisses to Ron and Harry, and was almost tempted to stick out his tongue, but decided it was overkill, before following his wife, which was, of course, totally ridiculous because she had no idea where the portkey was.



He eventually caught up with her and when he decided that they were safely surrounded by enough wedding guests that she wouldn’t make a scene, he took her hand. It was warm and soft, and when she didn’t try to yank it away, he took a firmer grip, entwining their fingers and smirking at passers-by. He was putting on a good show, he thought, not allowing himself to ask why he was bothering. Eventually he brought her to a halt in front of an old broomstick that had been turned into a portkey.

“All right, count of three?”

“Wait, I don’t have any stuff!”

“All your stuff has been moved into the country house.” He told her. He could see from her eyes that she was disappointed by this. “God, Granger, it’s just a week!”

“Yeah, well, spending a week with you is going to be like spending a week in hell.”

“Whatever, just grab the portkey on the count of three, one…two…two and a half -”

“Ugh, Malfoy!”

“Fine, Three.” And off they went.



*****







After a fairly rough landing Draco picked himself up, dusted himself down and offered his hand to Hermione who, naturally, ignored it and got up by herself. They were at the front gate of what was possibly the most remote and idyllic cottage that either of them had ever seen. Every aspect was quaint, from the whitewashed walls to the thatched roof with a chimney that was steadily puffing a light grey smoke. Draco squinted at it like he was seeing it for the first time.

“I always assumed it would be bigger,” he muttered.

“What do you mean, haven’t you been here before?”

“No, it’s only for married couples.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, slightly dazed. She too had expected something larger.

“Yeah, well, anyway, let’s get in, it’s freezing out here.” It was indeed quite cold, especially for Hermione who was still in her flimsy wedding dress and barefoot. They walked up to the door and were about to enter when Draco stopped abruptly.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Um, well…” She was surprised by his sudden uncertainty, he was usually so composed. “Do you want.. I mean, would you like me to carry you over the eaves? I mean, it’s sort of what you’re supposed to do, I wouldn’t want you to feel like you were missing out, or something.” He finished lamely. She was shocked. Who was this person pretending to be Draco Malfoy? She was so taken aback that before she knew what she was saying she replied, “yeah, sure.” And in one smooth motion he picked her up bridal style and said a spell that would open the door. Nothing happened. He said it again before muttering something about stupid house elves and turning the handle himself. He walked through the doorway before setting his wife carefully down on the carpeted floor that was just inside. Before them stood a house elf who looked positively ecstatic, she was practically bursting with happiness. Both teenagers inwardly groaned, Hermione at seeing that this house, like all other Malfoy properties used the service of house elves and Draco, because it made his eyes hurt to see anything that happy. I mean, really, there should be a law against it, he thought savagely.

“Good Evening Master and Madame! My name is Dolly!” She grinned wider, as if even the sound of her name made her happy. “I is to be your trusted House Elf for the coming week.”

“Err.. Dolly, why couldn’t I spell open the door?”

“So sorry Master Draco, but there is to be no magic happening in this house aside from what I do.”

“What?! What type of honeymoon spot is this? No magic? Are you kidding me?”

“No Master Draco, I is not kidding on you. No Magic. Now, can Dolly give you a tour?” Before Draco could open his mouth again, Hermione quickly said, “Of course Dolly.” She too was slightly disappointed that she would not be allowed to use magic, but it would be just the same as any of the other holidays when they had still been underage.

“Come this way please.” They followed Dolly all through the cottage, which was very nicely furnished. It was small, but had plenty of natural light so it did not feel cramped. There was a lounge room, which Hermione noted had a few shelves of books. She ventured over to them her spirits rising, but to her dismay they all seemed to run along the lines of Wizarding Marriages: Working out the Kinks and How to Make Your Marriage Work For You. Turning to Draco she gestured to the books, “I believe we’ve been sent to Malfoy Marriage Camp.” She said dryly. Noticing the titles he groaned.

“Come on Master Draco, the dining room is this way,” Dolly piped up.



They had no more trouble until they reached the top floor which to the newlyweds disappointment housed only one bathroom and even worse, only one bedroom. It was a nice bedroom, with a large bed covered in lovely clean linens and a big window on one side, its only shortcoming was that it was in the singular.

“Dolly, why is there only one bedroom when there are two people?” Draco ground out.

“Why, Master Draco, you is married. You is not needing two bedrooms. Now, come downstairs, I has dinner all ready for you.” Draco followed reluctantly and shot Hermione a look that pretty much summed up the sentiment, what the fuck? “Marriage Camp.” She whispered in his ear.



Their dinner was delicious and Dolly was, indeed, a very good cook. They ate in silence not wishing to discuss the humiliating situation they had been placed in. It was not until later when they were sitting in the lounge, Draco on one end of the couch staring into the fire, and Hermione on the other, reading, that anything was said.

“You, know, it sort of makes sense.”

“What makes sense.” Asked Draco after a pause.

“Marriage Camp. I mean, Malfoys usually marry for political reasons, right? So we’re probably not the first volatile marriage to come through this family. It’s not surprising that eventually one Malfoy parent thought that it would be better for both parties if they had some adjustment time, away for the public eye, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, no Malfoy has ever had to marry a Gryffindor before. I mean, it’s a match made in hell.”

“Well, I’m not the one that went along with his father’s stupid little plan and wound us up in this situation,”

“Whatever, Granger, if you knew anything about my father you would know that there’s no way to avoid his plans.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Yes.”

“And…”

“He beat my mother to a bloody pulp and she nearly died okay, Granger?”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry Malfoy, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t ask either, did you?” Silence reigned again. It was Draco who spoke next.

“It’s nearly eleven o’clock.” He said.

“So?”

“Come on, Granger, you know we have to do it by twelve, or they’ll snap our wands.” She had nothing to say to this. Slowly he rose, stretched, walked over to her and took the book out of her hands. Then taking one hand in his own, he lead her up the stairs.

“Wait..” She said.

“For what, Granger? Let’s just get it over with, okay?”

“Oh, how sweet Malfoy, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.”

“What would you prefer then?” He paused for a minute, then looked her full in the eye.

“You’re beautiful.” He said simply and then crashed his lips down on hers. She was so shocked that she didn’t even try to protest and as his tongue swept along her lips, she found herself opening her mouth so she could taste him. He tasted of the dessert they had eaten, strawberries and cream and she suddenly felt hungry again. Their kiss deepened in intensity until he broke away and picked her up for the second time that day, then, with his mouth next to her ear, he whispered sweet nothings between cautious nips as they made their way upstairs. When they reached the bedroom he placed her carefully on the bed before resuming their kiss. This time he was much more gentle taking his time to nibble on her bottom lip and truly explore her mouth. This was too slow for Hermione, however, who decided to send him a message by slowly raking her figures through his hair before pushing him away and beginning to unbutton his shirt. After a while all he was wearing were his black boxers.

“My turn.” He said before laying her down on the bed. He started from the bottom, slowly pushing the dress up her ankles, over her calves, past her thighs until a pair of cream lace knickers appeared through which he could just see the darkening of her pubic hair. He continued his journey up over her stomach, stroking the soft skin there, then kissing it, before returning to her mouth. In this third kiss the passion had returned and she barely even registered that he had completely removed her dress until he broke away and looked down at her in wonder. She had not worn a bra that day, so her breasts were bare.

“Jesus, Granger, you’re beautiful.”

“You said that before.” She said smirking at him. He smiled down at her before diving and capturing one pink nipple between his lips. “Ahh!” She cried as he sucked on one and then the other making her breath catch in her throat. She felt him smile against her skin before working his way further downwards. Slowly he peeled away her knickers and was pleasantly surprised when their absence revealed the best looking pussy’s he’d ever seen. It was neat with a closely trimmed V of pubic hair and was a delightful pink colour. He looked at it for a while, not realising that he had left Granger hanging until he felt her hands in his hair once again, pulling him towards her. Slowly he licked her from the bottom of her slit to the top. She tasted wonderful, so he did it again, and again and again until he could hear her groaning above him at which point he began, in earnest, licking her out. Flicking delicately, but then with more and more intensity over her clit he was gratified by loader and loader moans. He continued for another few minutes before tentatively inserting a finger into her core. She was hot and wet, and totally ready. Excellent, he thought, until his finger encountered something that he had not been expecting.

“You’re a virgin, Granger?” He demanded incredulously.

“Mmmm, what?”

“Never mind.” He said, returning to his previous task. Well, this complicated matters. Why do you care? Some part of him asked, but ignoring that part he slowly kissed his way back up her body stopping at her mouth.

“Are you ready?” He murmered against her lips.

“Yess.” She hissed as his fingers skilfully played across her clit.

“All right.” And with that he pulled of his boxers and spreading her legs a bit further rested the tip of his cock against her hole. Reaching between them once again he slowly built up a rhythm with his fingers on her nub, until he was sure that she was wet enough. Then slowly, agonisingly so, he began to push into her. If she felt any pain, she kept her mouth shut. As he reached her hymen he looked down at her. She was beautiful, her face was covered in a light sheen of sweat and her brows were knit together, but she was beautiful lying there on his bed with her hair splayed across the pillow. There was only one problem.

“Granger, open your eyes.” He said quietly. She did and the intensity of her gaze scared him. He didn’t realise that he was giving her a similar look.

“This will hurt at first, but it will get better.” She nodded. Holding her eyes with his own, he braced himself with his hands on either side of her head. Then in one swift motion, he thrust all the way in. She didn’t cry out or scream as she had expected her too, but in his peripheral vision her could see her tiny hands suddenly clench into the sheets. He gasped at the feeling of being inside her. Had pussy always felt this good, or was it just that his month of abstinence had increased his appreciation? It didn’t matter. All that matter was the sensation.

“You’re amazing, Granger.” He said, looking her straight in the eye.

“You too.” She said. He took this as a cue that he could continue, so slowly and gently he inched out before carefully pushing back in again. He kept this pace for a while until he was surprise to feel her legs wrap around him, pulling him further into her. Her hands were no longer twisting in the sheets either. They were now running along his back, exploring his muscles and bones. Gradually, he increased his pace until they found a rhythm and then he bent down to engulf her in another passionate kiss that sent warmth racing down his back. He could feel the pleasure building between them and soon he could no longer sustain the kiss. He knew she could feel it too, because suddenly she started moaning again, louder and louder. He looked down at her once more wanting to drown in her eyes. Suddenly everything dropped away from him, all the burdens of his life, all the traps… his prison exploded outwards and for a few moments all he knew was blissful freedom, when suddenly his own name on her lips sent pleasure crashing over him.

“Hermione!” He called as he came deep inside her, revelling in the feeling of his orgasm, only amplified by the pulsating warmth around him that meant she too had fallen over the edge.



Slowly they came down from their highs and he carefully pulled out before collapsing beside her. He pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms, dragging the covers over both of them. Her head was pillowed on his right shoulder and her hand was resting delicately over his heart. He breathed in the smell of her hair.

“You were amazing…Hermione.”

“You said that before.” She said solemnly before tilting her head and smiling up at him. He smiled back down and kissed her one last time before sleep took them both. Draco later remembered that this was the first night in many years that he slept soundly, without nightmares, only waking once, just as dawn broke, to see his wife sleeping peacefully beside him, on her back with her head tilted towards him and her honey curls strewn across the pillow. She looked like an angel and he sighed contentedly, throwing an arm across her before sleep took him once more.



*****



Hermione woke the next morning with a start, and opened her eyes to Draco Malfoy sleeping peacefully beside her. The room smelt of stale sex and she felt sore. Suddenly the full realisation of what she had done seized her and she jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom only just making it in time to vomit into the toilet. Draco cracked an eyelid just in time to see her perfect, smooth back and buttocks turning into the bathroom, then opened both eyes as he too actually realised what they had done last night. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes with his palms as conflict shocked his sleepy brain from its lethargy.



Hermione, meanwhile had just finished vomiting her guts up and now turned to the bathroom mirror, looking at herself. She shook her head and splashed her face with water, then looked up again and felt a new wave of self-loathing hit her. She, Hermione Granger - Malfoy - No! Granger! Had had sex with Draco fucking Malfoy. And not only had she had sex with him, but she had enjoyed it. She had moaned for him. She had called out his name in the middle of her fucking climax. Who was she? The old Hermione had hated Malfoy. He was everything she was against, and yet she had clung to him last night. How could she betray herself like that? How had she gotten so caught up with this wedding? Why hadn’t she fought against? Why hadn’t she hurled insults at him every step of the way and why, dear god, why had she allowed him to have sex with her. She looked at the mirror and her eyes narrowed,

“You’re disgusting.” She said out loud, before allowing one month of pent up tears to flow over her cheeks. Half an hour later, she realised that she could spent the rest of the week in the bathroom. Bracing herself and splashing her cheeks once again she composed her features and re-entered the bedroom.



Malfoy, she was glad to see, did not look to be faring so well either. His head was in his hands and as she entered he looked up at her, his eyes full of grief.

“What have we done?” He asked.

“We had sex.” She said. He nodded in agreement.

“What are we going to do now?” He asked. She shrugged. He patted the bed beside him and she joined him kneeling in front of him, staring into his eyes. She was still naked, but his eyes didn’t waver from her own. Eventually she nodded.

“We’re similar aren’t we? You and me? I didn’t realise it before, I thought you were selfish and ignorant, and I suppose you still are, occasionally, but now I see that we’re both…trapped.” she finished sadly. They sat like that for a while, him cross legged and her kneeling. Until finally he broke the silence. He couldn’t talk about his feelings anymore. There was too much, so he changed the subject.

“When did you get that tattoo on your hip?” He asked.

“What? I don’t have a tattoo on my hip.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I think I would know Malfoy.”

“Yeah, well, turns out you don’t know everything after all then Granger, cos there is definitely a tattoo on your hip.” He said. This childish conversation was ridiculous given their situation, but it came out easily, keeping the bigger problems at bay.

“Ugh, God, is this one of your crappy pranks, because its not exactly hilarious.”

“Just go look in the mirror, Granger.” Sighing in exasperation she walked over to the mirror and twisted herself so she could she the back of her hip.

“What the fuck?!” She yelled. “What the fuck is that?”

“Looks like a tattoo, Granger, told you so. And it looks like its of my family crest. I didn’t realise you cared so much.” He said before collapsing into laughter. Hermione was not impressed, however and whirled around.

“What is this, some sick Malfoy family joke to play on unsuspecting brides?” She accused.

“Not that I know of.”

“Well that’s when it happened, during the ceremony, I can remember I had this weird cold feeling down my back that stopped at exactly the place where this stupid tattoo is and then it felt really hot. And now I have an ugly dragon on my hip!” She hadn’t noticed that the colour was draining from Draco’s face as she spoke. All this was sounding incredibly familiar to him, too familiar. He jumped out of bed as well and turned his back to her.

“Oh my god! You’ve got one too!” she cried gleefully.

“Oh great, Granger, that’s something to be really happy about, not just one, but both of us are permanently marked for life! Good, great, why don’t we throw a fucking party? What’s it of?” He demanded.

“See for yourself,” she managed between barely suppressed giggles. He twisted in the mirror until he could see a golden lion, roaring at him where previously there had only been pale, unmarked flesh. He sighed.

“Ha ha, sorry if I don’t have much sympathy, but you just got bitten on the arse by your own family’s stupid tradition…literally!” She cackled at him.

“Oh yeah, well, you’re not doing much better Granger.” He returned.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to tell the entire school about your new found allegiance to Gryffindor.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I so would.” She said grinning at him.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, and before she had time to answer he tackled her onto the bed and started tickling her mercilessly. She screamed with laughter tickling him back until both their sides hurt. He supposed that any other naked seventeen year olds probably would have furthered their tickling match, but it was still too soon and they both new it.

“Truce, Granger…truce!” He yelled.

“Never! You have to surrender!” He held out for a few more minutes but couldn’t last any longer.

“Fine! I surrender, Granger!” Breathing heavily they eventually collapsed onto their backs. Hermione thinking about the fact that he still insisted on calling her Granger despite the fact that she now bore his name. She liked it, she decided. It reminded her who she was, especially from those lips, which apparently could also make her completely forget. They lay there like that for a few minutes, lost in their separate thoughts, before something else occurred to Draco. He turned on his side.

“I didn’t cast a contraceptive charm last night,” he said slowly.

“You couldn’t of, remember… no magic?”

“Yeah, but that means…”

“No it doesn’t, I take a muggle daily contraceptive.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you need one? You were a virgin.” He stated.

“Well, I started when me and Ron were going out because I sort of expected that to, umm, develop, but then I continued because I found that it helped to alleviate menstrual cramp-”

“Urgh, Granger, too much information!”

“God, Malfoy, grow up!” This statement was unsurprisingly met with more tickling.



*****



Oooh, love birds… or maybe not. Don’t worry, it won’t be all smiles for the newlyweds. They have a week of bliss but after that some tough times are coming their way, I promise.