Fated To Be Tied

Fated To Be Tied Chapter Three:
“Markings”
By: KatieVixen


Hermione sat sheltered by a multitude of books, some ancient, and still had no answer to her ‘predicament’.
She gave an agonized sigh, frustrated with herself and situation. No matter what books she checked, exedexed, skimmed – there was still no way out! All of them espoused the exact same thing: mates are
destined before birth; he will cherish her, three marks to make it complete, yadda yadda yadda.
No spell or potion could set her free. She was doomed.

However, there was one volume that gave her a smattering of hope. Written by Zoë Zalmani,
the tome “Guiding Your Mate: A Feminine Perspective” seemed promising. She had already
procured it from Madame Prince and now it currently resided in her book bag, awaiting further
perusal in a more private setting. She was saving that for a little late-night reading. Another sigh.
Determin she she stood up, rising on her tiptoes for the final volume in the ‘veela’ section of the library.
The title, “Veela Weaknesses and Faults, A Study of Imperfection Within Perfection” also looked promising.
Even through her stomach lurched in protest at the thought of committing cold-blooded murder, perhaps
a sleeping draught to keep Draco Malfoy out of commission?

Quite suddenly, a warm masculine arm was wra aro around her waist, tugging her back into an equally
warm yet hard frame.
“Ah, ah, ah.” A low male voice taunted in her ear. She started, stiffening, trying to pull away, put
Malfoy’s arms held her pinned, back to chest, against him. She struggled in earnest, kicking back
and landing a goolidolid blow to his shin. He yelped, lost his balance, and jumped away from her,
still on one foot, his hands holding the injured shin. Hermione had the urge to giggle. She had no
idea that Malfoy could be so creative with profanity. It really was amusing.

He was glaring at her now, and she made an attempt (albeit failed) to keep a straight face.
She managed all right though, when she remembered just what he was doing before hobbling
around in pain. Bastard. “Just where do you come off thinking you can come around and grope me Malfoy?”
She was pissed. Really pissed.
“I would hardly call that groping, Granger.” He finally stood on both feet again, assessing her.
A wicked smile formed on his face. She did not like that smile, definitely not. When he spoke once more,
she liked that even less. “This, Granger, this is groping.”

He moved too fast for her eyes to register. In what seemed to take less than a second, his leg had shot out,
catching her behind the k and and sending her backwards on to the cold floor. He followed instantaneously,
straddling her hips with his legs and curling his fingers around her biceps, so that she well and truly pinned
beneath him. He sat up tall, looking down at her, infuriatingly bemused.

“Now, “ his was sultry, low; yet still retained that maddening conversational drawl she loathed,
“if I were to cup your breasts or your ass, that would be groping, Granger.” She gaped up at him,
speechless, but only for a moment. Ignoring the heat his words had caused, she instead concentrated
on righteous anger and indignation.
“Get the fuck off me, Malfoy!”
“No.”
She began to throw her body side to side, trying to unseat him from his current position. He groaned;
she really shouldn’t be moving that like when she was pinned under him like this. He had sought her out to talk;
not frighten her even more about the situation. And she was frightened: the scent of fear had pervaded
he normally intoxicating fresh scent, and it was the last thing he wanted. He wanted her, yes, but not her fear.

He bent his head down close to her and growled, “Stop it, Granger.” She continued her struggles,
growing even more violent, panic setting in. This was not good at all. He’d had enough, she was
going to hurt herself, and he wouldn’t tolerate that. “Granger!” His voice was sharp, commanding.
She paused, eyes wide. He began again, “Stop moving Granger, you’re only encouraging me to
hold you here longer. I just want to talk. Can we do that?”
“Let me up.” She was suddenly very aware of the way his body was pressing into hers…all of his body.
She could feel a blush begin to form on her cheeks. Damn. Praying for patience, she said, “Let me up,
Malfoy, and we’ll talk, okay? Just get off me…” His eyes watched her assessing for a few seconds more,
than in one fluid motion he stood pulling her up with him. One arm stayed possessively around her
shoulders while the other went to the small of her back. He walked swiftly, guiding her to two chairs in
a more isolated corner of the library.

They sat, facing each other, and he waited for her to truly calm down before beginning the conversation
that he knew they would have to have. She would hate him completely and forever if he took the first
two marks by force, and even the thought of her continuing dislike of him caused a pain to form in his chest.
Hermione Granger, he mused, was not a person to be forced. Coerced, bargained with maybe, but she
had to have choice, some control. Without it, she would turn to ice in his hands and her heart forever
lost from him. In that given situation, she might even seek out someone else to give it to. Just the
thought of her loving someone else, desiring…and touching another male made him growl.
She would not leave him. Ever. She was his. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that it stayed that way. ermiermione watched in fascinating as Malfoy’s usually emotionless mask melted into a kaleidoscopic display.
Thoughtfulness, sorrow, heated anger, and finally determination all swept his face like a swift wind before
he settled his gaze once more upon hers. Without preamble, he said “ I need to mark you, as soon as possible.”
“Why?” she asked a little nervously. She tried to laugh his seriousness off, “Can’t wait a while, first? That is
how things are done in this century Malfoy.” He smirked at her, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression. He began
again. “Let me put it to you this way, Granger. Once I give you the first mark, we can go as slow, “ his eyes
slid suggestively over her body, “or as fast as you want. The point is, in order for me to be able to function
with a completely sane mind I need to give you the first mark as soon as possible and seal it.”

She squirmed in her seat, gnawing her lower lip. “Its on the right wrist, right? That’s all?” When he nodded,
she took a deep breath and held her hand out to him, palm facing up. “Well, go on then. Mark, seal, and
get it over with.”
He continued to stare at her, making her even more ill at ease. Finally he groaned. “Granger,” he said roughly,
“its not that simple. Haven’t you learned anything in those books you’ve been reading all afternoon?”
She gave a snort of protest to which he held up a placating hand. He then leaned over to her from his chair,
his face so close to hers she could feel the heat from his body. It made her heart race. Involuntarily, of course.

“Its not that simple.” His breath is warm and light on her face, eyes dark. “What do you recall about veelas, Granger?”
She shook her head, not quite how much information she should give. Of course she had read up on veelas,
and was now quite familiar with their physiology, habits, and so forth, but some…all right, most of that knowledge
was sensual in nature. Quite frankly, Hermione Granger had no intention of bringing of the subject of sex with
a hormone-crazed veela who, at this point in time, was fixated upon her.

He kept on smirking at her. “Well, Granger, at a loss for words? It’s all right, I remember all about being a veela.”
His voice was low, and practically dripping with male amusement. “Veela marks, Granger, cannot be sealed
unless the lady in question is aroused. Since veelas cannot survive without sex, or touch, their mates are their
cornerstones. Essentially, I awaken the sensuality in you, add a dash of my own veela vivre, and seal it with a release.
A very…pleasurable release.” The sentence ended with his even lower, making her insides twitch. She was sure
that her face was as red as the Gryffindor crest. Draco, on the other hand, was grinning like the Cheshire cat
that ate the canary.

“Alright then.” She said dejectedly after a deep breath. He cocked an eyebrow at her. Surely she wasn’t
going to be giving in this easily? Not his little wildcat.
“Alright then? You do know what you’re agreeing to, don’t you Granger?” his face was totally serious.
She musow, ow, she couldn’t be that naïve not to have understood his meaning…
“I mean alright then.” Her voice was harsh, expression bleak. “I’ll make the potion, and you come to
my room – head girl’s, around eight o’clock tonight. That okay with you, Malfoy?” Now she was
absolutely devoid of emotemotion in her face or voice whatsoever. Beyond that little factor, only
one thing interested him more.
“What bloody potion?”

She looked at him as if he were mentally unfit, and began speaking to him like she would to someone
who is obviously slow on the uptake. “The arousement and lust potion. Standard, of course. I’ll brew
the potion this afternoon, and you come by at eight and we’ll get this little marking thing done and be
able to go about our separate business. If eight’s not okay, perhaps nine….”

Now he was angry. What the hell did she think she’d need a bloody fucking arousement potion for?
That’s why he was here, damn it! “Now listen here, Granger. There will be no bloody arousement potion,
got it? It wouldn’t work anyway. My veela magic only flows throughsualsual touch, and so a potion will
do you no good. I have to touch you for the mark and seal to take place, so you can forget whatever
little sterile moment you were planning.” His eyes were bright silver, and he was so angry that she
would even suggest needing such a thing. For the first time, she was truly afraid that he might physically
hurt her. She couldn’t move; she was like a rabbit, caught in a snare. His snare. He leaned in very
close to her, so close that only a hairsbreadth of movement separated their mouths from making the
last part of the conversation a kiss. He said, “I promise you this, Granger. I will never hurt you, ever.
I would die to protect you. But I swear that if I show up at your room tonight, and you’ve taken that
potion, I’ll take a full advantage of its effects.” He smirked, noticing her labored breath and panicked eyes.
Leaning in that scant space, he brushed his mouth over hers, lightly, tenderly. “See you at eight, love.”
And with that, he stood and walked away from her, leaving her tingling with fear, anger, and the slightest
beginnings of lust.

Later that night, in the astronomy tower….


Ginny arrived at seven sharp, not sure what to expect from Blaise. After last year’s fiasco with Pierce,
he had (for the most part) left her alone, with the exception of a few heated glances to her, and some
not so subtle threats towards Pierce. When she had visited with her Aunt Theodora and Uncle Mordred
over the summer, they had immediately noticed a change in her, and one evening, Aunt Theodora
came up to her room for some private ‘girl talk’. She had explained to Ginny what exactly Blaise had
done to her, that he had marked her, but had not yet sealed that mark, due to the fact that if he did
that when she was still sixteen and technically a minor by wizarding laws, and thus her parents could
contest, and marry her off to someone else if they so chose. That was why all veela mates had to be
at least seventeen, they were then legal adults by wizarding standards.

A veela normally pursues a mate once he reaches full maturity, however, in some cases, if that mate
is in grave danger, and their veela counterpart is in the general vicinity, they are given the knowledge
of who their mate is prematurely so that they can save them. So it had happened with Blaise and her.
Her aunt pointed out that most likely, while Blaise would have gone mad with her baring his first mark
without it being sealed, he had probably done a binding spell on himself until she reached legal adulthood
and him full maturity. Hence, he could now begin his ‘real’ pursuit of her. But what that also meant was
that now her first mark had to be sealed, or else madness would follow for Blaise. The first mark
(and her subsequent rescue) also meant that Ginny had more than a passing fondness for the
dark-haired Slytherin, something she was sure that Hermione would also feel for Draco in time. But now,
reaching the very last step of the winding stairway that led to the astronomy tower, all thoughts of her aunt
and Hermione were brushed aside, as she saw Blaise leaning with graceful nonchalance against a heavy
oaken table set with two chairs, a pitcher, goblets and of course, a wizarding chess board ready for play.
Her body was tingling, especially her wrist, in fact, it was almost burning. But it was a pleasurable heat;
one that only intensified and spread when Blaise straigtened his spine and held his hand out to her in
order to help her to her seat. His eyes roamed her body, making her naked. And she liked it. She
liked it very, very, much.

His voice was very smooth and resonant as he seated her, offering her chilled spiced pumpkin juice
and a snack if she so desired. She accepted the juice, but not the food, saying she wasn’t hungry,
but maybe later. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked as she saw him put the tray aside without taking
any for himself. He smiled, eyes still caressing her form.
“Not for food.”

“Here are the rules,” he said. “For each piece you lose, you must fulfill a request of mine, either by
answering a question or performing some small task. The same applies to me. If I lose a piece,
I must answer a question of yours or perform any task you feel may need my attention.” He smiled
at her, enjoying her blush at his innuendo.
“And what if I don’t want to do what you ask?” she questioned, looking a bit defiant. And scared.
She definitely looked a bit scared. Didn’t she know he would never hurt her? She seemed to be
accepting all of this with good grace, and he was sure that his mate was definitely acting with more
compliance than Draco’s. The thought made him smirk. “If you feel that you absolutely cannot
do what I ask, then I will propose a forfeit, or I will merely let it pass until your next piece, where
the task will be even more…intricate, shall we say. But let’s get one thing straight. You know what
we’re doing here, don’t you?”
She nodded, “you want to seal the first mark.”
“And do you know what that means?” He was deadly serious as he asked her this question. If she
didn’t understand…
“Yes.” She said, her voice breathy. Heat. “I know what that means.”
“Good.” His voice was full of the anticipation and satisfaction when one knows that a good hunt is
about to start, and more importantly, that one will win the prize. A very willing prize. He spoke with
obvious delight, “Then let’s get started, shall we? Your move, Red. Ladies first.”

At first they game was very normal, as they both were experienced chess players.
And while Ginny had the advantage of living with Ron (and giving into his pleas for a game
partner when no one else was around), Blaise had obviously enjoyed the benefits of Slytherin House,
as he was clearly settip thp the game as one might stage a battle: with all the ruthlessness one can
employ to win. Then, when she was finally calm, Ginny Weasley lost her first pawn. Blaise grinned in
triumph. His seduction of his little red-headed mate was about to begin.


Down a few stairwells to the left, in the next wing of the castle…


Draco Malfoy whistled a tune as he made his way to his mate’s private quarters. Ah, the priveledges
of head girl. He frowned when he remembered she would be sharing a common room with that
Ravenclaw prick Pierce, but quickly brushed most of his concern aside. His mate was a formidable
force at magic; even as a child he had conceded to that. With her talent and his oh-so-subtle
“You hurt her: I kill you, and no one finds the body,” statement made a few weeks past at
Diagon Alley, she should be perfectly safe. However, just to be on the safe side, he should stick
around, you know, just in case. He practically grinned at the thought. Blaise (his friend and cousin
on his father’s side) had told wha what Pierce had tried to do to Virginia; personally, Draco would
have never had let him off so light – just one good beating? For touching a mate? Not hardly.
But then again, Blaise had always been the more mellow of the two cousins. Such were Draco’s
musings as he reached the common room portrait, and bade the painted vampires to inform
Hermione of his arrival. Such were his thoughts, until she opened the door.

His first thought upon seeing her was that she was too beautiful to be wearing so many clothes.
Maryjanes, knee socks, the patented Hogwarts uniform skirt, shirt (thankfully without that dreadful tie),
and her school robbing. The gods must have been merciful towards his libido, because thankfully the
robe was unbuttoned, and served to look more like a long coat than another hindrance in getting her naked.
“Hermione,” he greeted. This was going to be difficult. He wanted her to want him; not feel like she
was making some great sacrifice for the war. He had plans though. By the end of tonight, she would
want him. Crave him. Need him. She had too. It wasn’t enough to have her submission; he wanted
all of her. Her body, her heart, her soul. And he knew that if she didn’t give him those things, if all
he had was just her submission as a mate, he would surely go insane. For his father, submission
had been enough. And that had destroyed Narcissa Black-Malfoy more than any hex ever could have.
He vowed that the same thing would not happen to his Hermione; never. He had sworn it to himself,
a personal oath, and Malfoy’s never break an oath. Now all he had to do was convince her. Oh goody.

“Malfoy,” Hermione replied. For second there he had looked odd, lost in thought perhaps.
While in wait for this evening she had read Zoe’s book on being in more control of one’s mate
(and hence, oneself,) and although very nervous, she was confident that Malfoy wouldn’t hurt her.
Not yet, anyways. Well, she thought, best to get this over with. And with that bold thought, she
moved over to the tall blonde as the portrait closed and kissed him.

He was stunned. And before he could respond, and put his arms around her as was his **intention**
she pulled away. “Granger,” his voice was full of surprise, “what was that for?! Not that I didn’t enjoy it,
mind you. In fact, feel free to always greet me that way. Only next time, stay a little longer and then open
your mouth…”
“Malfoy stop!” she said covering her ears. She had already backed away rapidly, losing her nerve. She just couldn’t
do it. She didn’t know him, didn’t even like him really. So what if any sexual fantasy she had featured
someone tall, with lean muscles, an angelic face, and blonde?! Lots of people liked blondes! It wasn’t
because of Malfoy. It couldn’t be…She began to speak again, “I just thought to get it over with, Malfoy, r
eally, but, I can’t…” He frowned at the statement ‘get it over with’ and then frowned even deeper as
he smelt the scent of desperation, coming off his mate in waves. It should not be like this.
The markings were supposed to be a pleasurable thing, not something to be ruined with fear or
desperation. He decided to try a new tactic in his seduction of Hermione.

“Its okay, Granger, I understand.” He said as he leaned against the door, one foot
crossed over the other, arms folded against his chest.
“You do?” Her voice was small. He became anxious. She really couldn’t be that afraid of him,
could she? His mate? No, not him, he decided after studying her face. Of them: the situation, really.
She thought she had to do this; not because he was her soul mate or her body’s perfect match;
but because Dumbledore said that without his help they would lose the war. Desperation. He needed
to tread very carefully here. And so he answered her question with caution: “Yes, I think I do.
I’ve been having dreams about you for months (she blushed at this), but you don’t know me.
All you know that is if you don’t give me a chance, the light will lose the war. And so, I propose a deal
to you.”
“What kind of deal?” She was wary of him, good. No impetuous Gryffindor, this.
“I propose you give me your trust for this one night. Let me mark you. After that, the timing of the
nexrk irk is yours to chose. It could be tomorrow, or much later than that. But give me your trust
for ght.ght. Let me show you how it can be between veela mates. Trust me tonight, and the control is yours.”
He looked to her, gauging her expression, waiting for answer.
“I thought females couldn’t control the timing of the marks, they’re supposed to be submissive.”
“I’m giving you control.” He paused, tilting his head to one side in assessment. “After tonight, of course.”
Her voice was thick when she asked, “And what will you do to me?”
His voice was amused when he answered her, “that’s where the trust part comes in. You’ll just have to wait
and see. You’ll also have to do exactly what I tell you, whatever I ask. Give me control tonight, and from
hereafter until we are fully mated it shall be yours. Do we have a deal?”

She had to think long moments before answering. For a male veela to give up dominance for his
mate was a great sacrifice. They by by nature very possessive, and for him to give her the power
to decide the marks timing showed how much he needed her this night. Hermione remembered
reading that the longer a male had to wait for his mate, the more likely it was that he would go insane.
And he had been dreaming about her for months. Taking a deep breath, she told herself,
‘I’m a Gryffindor, I can do this’. Looking him straight in the eye she finally said, “Yes. I agree.”

He nodded, and then looked a little bit closer at his mate, now that he had gotten her agreement.
There were many things he could do with her, but he wanted to start with something that would
force her to depend entirely on him and the feelings he could create in her. He smiled then,
a predatory feral smile, as a delicious idea came. “Come here,” his voice was smooth and
commanding as he began to undo his necktie. She hesistated, and his voice grew hard and cold,
“Come here, Hermione. This is about trust. Come. Here. Now.” She went to him, and he could
smell her fear, hear the racing of her heartbeat. That was okay. He would replace that fear with
pleasure soon enough. His voice was soft when he spoke again, tender even. “Turn around, Hermione.”
She did, her back to his chest. So close. He could feel the heat from her body, and his body
grew harder, more taut. “Close your eyes.” She made a tiny sound of protest, but he disregarded
her concerns. “This is about trust Hermione.” She couldn’t tell anythinom hom his voice. It was expressionless.
“Do not ask me questions. I will not answer them now. You gave me control.
So do as I say, and close your eyes.” She did, trembling. He could feel the tenseness in
her body. Her muscles were so tight she was practically quaking. “Shhhh,” he soothed.
His hands wrapped around her throat. So fragile.

In that moment, Hermione Granger truondeondered if she had gone crazy. Here she was
blindfolded (with DracoMalfoy’s tie, no less) standing in front of him, with his hands wrapped
around her neck. He could snap her spine like a twig in this position. Her breath caught in
her throat, and she froze. Only he didn’t break her neck. Instead, he made more of those
soft cooing noises as he ran his hands soothingly down her arms to her hands, all the while
massaging the taut muscles with his thumbs; the repetitious circular patterns were meant to
relax, and so she did. “Breathe Hermione.” His breath was warm on her ear as he spoke.
She breathed. He laughed. And then he led her to the bedroom.

Once in the her bedroom, Draco led Hermione to stand with the back of her knees touching the
bed. He then lit the fireplace into a roaring blaze, whilst extinguishing any other light in the room.
He turned to her, waiting so patiently for his orders. Submission. It was so sweet for her. He was
already hard, and they really hadn’t done anything. “Sit down Hermione.” She sat.

As he came closer, she could hear the tapping of his boots on the floor. Closer, closer, stop.
There. His hands were at her hair, untying the ribbon that held it in its neat bun. “I like your hair free,”
he said. “Its so soft, so shiny. Just begging for me to touch.” Then he moved his hands down to her
shoulders, and tugged so that she knew he wanted her to get rid of the robe. A little more tugging,
and that robe was also on the floor, lying next to her ribbon. Not that she could see it. All she could
see was velvety darkness. aby abyss. But she could feel, hear, and taste. His hands were hot as the
skimmed down her body, coming to rest on her waste. Her body’s previous tenseness was being replaced
with a new kind of anxiety, one that seemed to radiate from her tummy. “ up up to the headboard,
Hermione, and wait for me.” Gods. She felt…heavy, heady. It was an odd feeling, new, but most definitely
pleasant. She moved. She could feel his hands on her calves, removing her shoes and socks,
tracing light patterns up to her knee. Her breath came a little faster, and her heart seemed to
beat in tune to his hands. Without seeing his face, she knew he was smiling when he said,
“You’re so beautiful Hermione. Now open the first two buttons of your shirt.”

He kept his voice low and soothing, and hoped that she obeyed him without question.
His veela instincts were now in control, and everything would just work out for the better if
she obeyed him completely this night. She did. Unbuttoning slowly, an unplanned striptease.
Just enough to get her used to it, before he took her shirt off completely. He moved to
sit beside her on the bed, pulling her close. “Now,” he said once his arms were again
wrapped about her waist, “your first lesson is kissing. Have you ever kissed someone
before, Hermione?” She nodded. “Not very good teachers, were they? That little peck,
darling, was hardly a kiss. But don’t worry, I definitely will see to your education.”
He then brushed his lips against hers, once, twice. Before kissing her lightly.
Wrapping one hand in her hair, he tightened his grip, and tipped her head back,
deepening the kiss. He nipped harshly at her lips, soothing afterwards with his tongue.
And then pushing into her mouth, in order to possess the moist cavern completely.
His tongue plundered into her mouth, allowing for nothing but absolute submission.
When she began to participate he groaned, thrusting his tongue in a harsh and primal
rhythm over and about hers, imitating what he planned to do to her body later.
She whimpered, melting against him, rubbing her chest against his. He broke the kiss off
tenderly, gently nipping at her throat in ending. Her breath was coming in uneven little pants now,
and her body felt hot and restless. He gave her another command: “Lay down, Hermione.”
Dimly she marveled that today was the first and only day that he had ever addressed her her her first name. And then she layed down.

He made quick work of the buttons on her shirt, being sure to kiss down her throat and
chest as he did so. She was squirming when he lifted his head and braced his body to one
side of hers; one leg resting in between her thighs. She was truly panting now.
It was sweet music to his ears. And he could smell her sweet desire. Perfect.
He moved his mouth back down to her neck, nipping and sucking the skin in between his teeth.
Her body flushed and arched with the delicious sensations of pleasure – and pain.
He moved over to her shoulder, licking the skin lightly there before going down her arm.
Tiny kisses. So light and delicate, and that’s why when the vicious bite came down onto
her wrist she was unprepared, and screamed.

Pain. White-hot and arching, it laced through her blood stream, making tears come to
her eyes and her body twist and agony. Pleasure. Waves of heat beating along her skin,
and her inside twisting with that undescribable tension that made her pelvis arch into Draco’s,
needing something…friction. Ah! He was thrusting cloth-encased hips againsts, feeding her lust
with his own. She was still scing,ing, moaning, begging…”please, please, please…” When suddenly he released
her now bloody wrist and came to his knees in one smooth motion, pulling her up with him. Her legs
wrapped upon their own accord around his waist, and still she moved against, more than anything
needing relief from this ecstatical tension. He moved his hand down, kneeding the heel of his palm
against her core. Her legs tightened as she came, screaming, nails digging into his shou. T. The
world was a brilliant shade of white…and then blackness. Hermione had passed out.


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*********************************************A/N: Whew! Sorry guys, but I had a lot
of stuff going on this week. In the next chapter, we will be seeing the aftermath of Hermione’s
sealed mark, and Blaise’s chess game with Ginny. Hope you guys liked this chapter, and thanks
for all the wonderful reviews! (Y’all are so sweet.)