Out of the Silent Planet

Title: Out of the Silent Planet (37/39)
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Plot driven smut, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Angst...
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, slight non-con, voyeurism, oral, anal, Dom/sub issues, Dark!Draco, and HBP spoilers.
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape's final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve' something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP.
Author's Notes: This is my first DM/HG ficlet, so please be kind to the newbie! The title of this fic is taken from C.S. Lewis' book, first in the Perelandra Chronicles.

All hail kazfeist! Uber thanks goes to her for beta-ing this chapter, and for her help in the future!



Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Thirty-Seven – Of admissions and communions



Hermione sat under the kotatsu with Draco Malfoy less than three feet away. She stared at him with wide eyes, the words having fallen from his mouth nothing less than surprising. He had just finished telling her about the trials, and the vision he had had of Severus Snape. However, the full meaning of the words was inspiring an anger that she could not remember ever having. Before she could open her mouth to express this new anger, Draco continued.

“What I told you that night you came to the Manor was true, my sudden departure to seek out the manacle and my intentions of finding the last piece. I needed them even though I had overcome the trials.

They were pieces meant to augment the Arm, pieces that would augment my successes. I became obsessed. I had the masterpiece, and I wanted the pieces that complimented the masterpiece because I had proven myself strong enough to possess them…”

Draco poured another saucer of sake and drank it down with a swift motion of his silver hand.

“I told Ronald Weasley about my quest for the last piece, and what I discovered about the aegis.”

“Ron Owled me…I know…”

Draco nodded. “Such concerned friends you have, Granger.”

“Of course.”

“The details of the aegis and how it was connected to Lucius are unimportant. The fact that Lucius had sought out the aegis for his own ends only made me more determined…at least, at first.

I wanted it because he could not find it, I wanted it because it would be proof of my power, but as I searched Carthage, coming so close to death time and time again, I suddenly wondered why I was risking everything for a piece of forged metal buried somewhere under my feet.

Why did I need such power? I have redeemed myself many times over, no one could refute that I was a man who had rebuilt his family’s name from infamy to worldwide success.

Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what I really wanted.”

“And what was that?” Hermione asked, her eyes softening as she gazed at Draco’s troubled face.

“The freedom to pursue a sense of normalcy. That was all I had wanted as a child. A normal family, a father who loved me and encouraged me instead of abusing the authority he had over me. I thought that if I were to ever be a father, I would never impose beliefs on my children; I would never want my child to live in my shadow.

The sins of the father should not reflect on the son…” Draco whispered, trailing off, as his eyes grew distant, lost in some old memory.

Hermione gazed at him and noticed how the candlelight in the room made the shadow of his beard stand out on his cheeks and chin. Draco Malfoy seemed older, not just in appearances, but also emotionally. She had been shocked at his tears earlier that day, just as she had been shocked at the love he had shown toward Alex. For so long she had been afraid of what Draco might do upon learning of Alex, and her heart had been quieted while she watched father and son connect. The only part of her that was not quiet was the part that still wondered what to do now that Draco Malfoy was aware of Alex and her whereabouts.

“I congratulate you, Malfoy. You have grown up and removed yourself from Lucius’ shadow. But, I cannot help but repeat that question I asked you that night. What do you want from me now?”

Draco frowned at the sarcasm in Hermione’s voice, but understood why she felt she must speak so. All this while he had been telling her of his troubles, he had had no idea of her feelings, her motivations. And he realized how selfish he still was, after all.

“I…” he began, but looked away, suddenly afraid, and not wanting to convey that fear with his face.

That night she had come to the Manor, he had not been afraid of her refusal. It had angered him. He had not known, in his madness and arrogance, that she was carrying his child. If he had been sane and well, he was sure he would have noticed her expression, her demeanour and her fear. Draco also knew that if she were to refuse him again, he would crumble and never be able to repair himself.

He had to take that chance, all the same. Hermione Granger had to know, that even now…

“I want you to let me love you… And I know how awkward that sounds coming from my mouth, but there is no other way to put it without sounding any more trite than that.”

The air about them changed perceptibly, and Draco felt his heart drop into his stomach as Hermione’s lips trembled to speak.

“How? How will you love me?” she whispered, obviously not put off by Draco’s explanation to his feelings.

“I…I do not know ‘how,’ but I do l-love you,” he struggled, his mouth dry with fear. He was afraid…and it was hard for Draco to accept that he was afraid.

“I want you near me always, just the way you are... I would give you anything you wanted…and Alex! Alex would have the best of everything!” Draco asserted, the desperation in his voice turning Hermione’s face further away from him.

“Consider me, Hermione…consider me before Yuki or anyone else…”

Hermione’s lips trembled and her eyes closed, shutting Draco out.

“Yuki…Yuki won’t even speak to me, let alone be in my life, Malfoy. I refused him one too many times, and he has given up on me. He loves Alex, and it is Alex that he dotes upon. I have no man in my life besides my son…”

“Then…” Draco began.

“You have no idea, do you?” Hermione interrupted, a hint of anger in her voice.

Draco frowned as Hermione opened her eyes to him, all the emotion gone from her face, eyes clear, and lip no longer quivering.

“It has been terrible, having to flee, having to wait, having so many dreams and fantasies about how my life COULD have been. Reality crashed in upon me, and I felt lost. But no longer. I have my life, I have my son, and I have this place.

Once your prison, now my sanctuary…”

She paused, pulling herself up so that she sat with a straight back, gazing at Draco with molten amber eyes. The power, the anger, and the condescension pulsing from her body only made the next words from her lips all the more piercing.

“You seem so old, Draco. Your soul seems too ancient, and so fragile. I cannot feel that madness I knew, and that makes you alien to me.”

Hermione paused to search Draco’s eyes.

“I don’t know you, and I cannot love you any longer…my love for you…it kills me.”

Draco blinked. He had heard this from her lips sometime before, but he could not remember the exact moment.

“And now you seem passionless…changed.”

The words echoed in Draco’s ears over and over…and all he know to feel was shock, offence, and anger. Passionless?

How could Hermione Granger even begin to say that he, Draco Malfoy, was passionless? Draco felt his hand twitch again, and this time Hermione noticed the spasm, her eyes riveted to the silver hand resting on the tabletop. Deep inside his inner soul he wanted her. He had wanted her for years. He wanted to possess her, lock her away for his pleasure and amusement. He wanted to brand his name on her very soul so that even she could not deny how much he wanted her…loved her. In his madness, he wanted to hurt Hermione Granger so that he would be the only one to comfort her.

“You insult me, Granger,” he growled, his eyes boring into the tabletop, his right hand grasping for the sake bottle, pouring a sloppy saucer-full.

Hermione’s breathing seemed to catch before it increased to the point that her kimono began to open wider with every breath. The power she felt only moment before was eclipsed by Draco’s wild brand of anger.

“There is a fine line between passion and madness, my dear. Madness would have been far more severe, while with passion, I would have least been merciful. I do not deny my madness, but now it is not ruling my life, and it has in no way taken away my passion for anything in life…not even you.”

His voice had taken on an authoritative quality. Hermione felt sweat breaking out along her temple, a reaction to the power of his voice. She had, indeed, insulted him.

“Would you have let me hurt you, Granger, for my pleasure? I would have… I would have bound you to my side for all time and killed any man who would dare look at you. Lustful jealousy and greed would have been what I had for you, Granger, and part of me still only wants you to ever look at me… What would you call that, my dear? Madness or passion?”

Her body was trembling, her chest heaving for a chance at a proper breath. The shock of finding her and Alex had only set him off balance, pleased him, made him regret, but as she gazed at him, his body seemed to fill with the aether that once composed the Draco Malfoy she knew on those nights he had taken her body, mind and soul. The night in her London flat, the night she conceived Alex…those had been the two times that she could have surrendered to him and believed that he loved her more than anything in the world. The man who sat next to her, in the very room where they had formed a blood oath, was not the man she had first found at the ryokan, nor was he the man who lay battered, bloody, and mad in Malfoy Manor, begging her to join him in a quest for power. No, the man at her side was the Draco Malfoy that should have existed years ago…if Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy had never met and Draco was never born to stumble into Darkness.

“Mad…mad love…” Hermione finally answered, her voice tremulous and unsure. “I wanted to lose myself in you, but not to madness, not to darkness. I wanted to allow myself to need you, from time to time, to rely on you, if possible.”

She looked away, he was watching her through glazed silver eyes, the colours swirling there, threatening to pull her in.

“But would you have ever let me? Would you have ever allowed yourself to love me like that? Could my silly dreams of you be accurate? Could I ever have what I wanted?” she whispered more to herself than to the man at her side.

He was as handsome as she remembered, his demeanour much tamed, and that fact was what made her say that he was passionless… She had wanted to rile him, poke at the beast caged inside. And Hermione wanted him…she had always wanted him.

Draco chuckled at Hermione’s words, sipping on his sake, his heart somewhat soothed by Hermione’s admission. She had called him mad…while she had been madly in love. He sighed softly, setting his sake to the table. If only they had spoken of their desires, their true desires, maybe they could have been madly in love, together, long ago… How flawed they both were.

“I would do anything for you, Granger, kill, maim, destroy anything or anyone, if you desired it. What is it you desire, Granger?” he purred.

She lifted her chin to gaze at him evenly, her eyes moving down his pale chest beneath the collar of the yukata to his silver arm, eyeing it with veiled suspicion. Opening her mouth, she hesitated, casting her eyes away again.

“I want you to kiss me.”

The request was simple enough, the words spoken softly and plaintively. Draco blinked, the smile on his lips still present, but he hesitated.

“What would it mean if I did that, Granger?” he whispered.

Hermione shook her head, still unable to look him in the eye. “I don’t know. It might mean that my heart would finally shatter, or it might mean that my heart could learn to heal…” she whispered in reply, slowly moving her eyes to Draco. “Just…just kiss me?”

The candles flickered as Draco moved from the table to disturb the air, crawling around the corner of the table to kneel next to Hermione. He looked down at her, the line of her profile, and the curve of her breasts just visible at the fold of her kimono collar, and the nervous curling and uncurling of her fingers on her lap. She smelled of jasmine and sake, and as Draco reached out to grasp her chin with his silver hand, he felt her shiver.

She turned to him, a hand reaching out blindly to grasp the front of his yukata in part to steady herself and in part to keep him near. He leaned down as she pushed upward, their lips meeting in a kiss that both had dreamed of for so long. The taste of each others mouths were just as they remembered, and the manner in which their lips moulded against each other was perfection. Neither had forgotten what it was like to be aroused by a kiss…a kiss only they could share.

Draco wrapped his arms about her, pulling her closer, his need to feel the rest of her body overwhelming the sense of reunion. Their kiss broke momentarily as Draco pushed her to the floor, causing her knees to knock against the table, spilling sake so that it dripped into the quilted skirt of the kotatsu. Draco grasped her shoulders as he devoured her mouth, his tongue tasting every nook and crevice of her mouth. She hummed against him, her hands finding his hair and curling her fingers into the short silver locks.

Desperation flickered between their bodies, Hermione pulling his head closer, guiding his body to rest atop hers, and Draco wresting Hermione’s kimono and shift apart to feel her skin against his. Their mouths parted, his lips trailing along her jaw, her lips and tongue teasing the shell of his ear. The sound of fabric ripping overpowered their frantic breathing and Draco paused to grin as his yukata fell open, the belt ripped by Hermione’s questing hands. Hermione’s clothing was in a similar state, the kimono opened and the shift ripped from collar to hem.

“This is…” she started as Draco lifted himself to hover above her. “This is madness, Malfoy,” she uttered breathlessly, her lips reddened from his kisses.

Draco gazed down at the woman bared below him, the candlelight illuminating her larger breasts and the faded silver lines of stretch marks on her belly. She was still as beautiful to him, softer, more fertile…more ripe for the tasting. No longer was she plagued by the crippled leg, or so thin from pain, both physical and emotional. Hermione was healthy, and she glowed with arousal.

“Perhaps, but once again, we are in it together, Granger…” he whispered, flexing his arms so that he lowered his face to her chest, his tongue snaking out to capture one plump nipple.

Hermione groaned at the sensation, her fingers digging into the hair at the back of Draco’s head to hold his lips at that sensitive spot. Teeth bit into the soft flesh, and Draco hummed at the sound of Hermione’s whimper. Licking after the bite, Draco’s silver fingers plucked at the other nipple, twisting roughly only to sooth the flesh with a feathery caress. Hermione let her fingers tug upon Draco’s hair as her hips shifted so that she could press herself against the heat of his groin.

Draco pulled his mouth away from Hermione’s swollen nipple and took her mouth, pressing his erection against her, struggling to pull away one last silken scrap of Hermione’s shift. The contact of his hot flesh against her slick core made both parties hiss with pent up pleasure. Hermione slid her hips to rub against him, the anticipation and familiarity of the man above her dissolving all her anger and hesitation.

Breathing into her fragrant hair, Draco groaned, his cock dampening with every movement of Hermione’s core against him. He could smell her, and the scent was just as it had been in his memories and dreams. Raising himself upward, Draco slid down Hermione’s body, his tongue trailing down her body, over the pale stretch marks, over the curve of her hip, lightly over the wet curls between her thighs and finally to the place where he knew he could undo her completely. And when his mouth opened, lapped, and sucked, Hermione’s back arched and she grasped Draco’s hair again, gasping.

To Draco, he was dreaming, he had never forgotten her scent or her taste, and to have it again surely had to be a dream…it was too good to be true. But it was real, as real as the sting of his scalp where Hermione grasped his hair, as real as the aching of his jaw, as real as the warmth of her thighs on either side of his cheeks. As he felt her second orgasm crest, his pulled his mouth away, gazing up her body to her hooded eyes and her open mouth. She was light and beauty, the woman he wanted, the woman he loved…

“Draco…” she whispered, her voice saturated with need, and Draco answered to his name.

Sliding up her body, Draco rested his hips against hers and rubbed his stubbly cheek against her collarbone, content to feel her arms about him, holding him close. He waited for her, waited for her breathing to normalize, waited for her own desire to cue him to move. His erection had not flagged, her mere touch arousing him. Draco was intoxicated, inundated by her, and when her hips began to rock from her need, Draco moved to nip at her left breast. He needed Hermione to need him…

Hermione groaned in frustration, her base need for him forcing her hips to rock against his, the silver thatch of coarse curls above his cock brushing teasingly against her swollen nubbin. Her hands pulled at his body, unsure of what to do with the pale man who was hovering above her, his hair falling into his unnaturally silver eyes.

“Frustrated, Granger?” he mocked, a hint of a cruel smile playing at the corner of his reddened lips.

The tone of his voice reminded her of Hogwarts…

Hands curled around her shoulders and with a gasp of air, Hermione found herself straddling Draco, her ruined clothing hanging off her arms. Looking down at him, his face, his chest, the silver arm, she felt her eyes water. Merlin, she had wanted this…whatever ‘this’ was now…

“Stop…” he whispered, raising his silver hand to wipe away the tears.

Hermione winced unconsciously as the silver traced along her cheek, just as warm as the actual flesh she saw below her.

“I will soak up your tears…”

She did not see his lips move at this words, but she heard them in her mind. Vaguely she remembered his abilities with Legilimency, and she felt the bubble of pain melt away. Allowing herself to fall, she pressed her body against Draco’s, causing him to groan at the sensation of her body against his. She kissed him, kissed him as she had wanted to in the two years they had been apart, in the years that she had fallen in love with him, resistant for so long. Her pain, her tears, her hopes and dreams, Hermione poured into her kiss, hoping that he would take it all…

Hands grasped her hips and Hermione felt the tip of his cock slip just inside her body. Exhilaration fuelled her to deepen her kiss, to taste his mouth, to somehow taste the essence of his soul. When the hands forced her hips downward, they both moaned, the reverberation passing down through their mouths, throats, and into their inner coils.

“Ride me…” he whispered.

She loved him, by Merlin, she loved him! Hermione began to move her hips, breaking her kiss to breathe. His hands held her face, as he gazed up, his lips parted slightly, his eyes half open, his brow furrowed. Hermione wondered if he was about to speak, but he only breathed in time with the movement of her hips. He seemed pained, but his eyes spoke only of exquisite pleasure. And suddenly Hermione could see… She could see the power she had over him, the power she had had ever since finding him in the very house they now lay. How could she have been so blind?

“Granger…” he groaned, thrusting upward, displeased with her languid pace.

Hermione tried to smirk, but her lips trembled far too much for the expression to be conveyed. Draco grunted as Hermione’s body clamped tightly around his cock, and suddenly Hermione found herself with back pressed into the floor. Draco had rolled them across the tatami mats again so that they were in the centre of the room, their robes in rags strewn across the floor.

Sweat dripped from the fringes of Draco’s hair as he thrust deeper and harder than before. His arms and shoulders strained as he gazed downward, his eyes unfocussed, but his intent clear. Hermione could only grasp at his upper arms and tangle her legs about his hips to keep him near. Draco was so close and so far away, edging nearer to release. Hermione whimpered as he shifted his angle so that the tip of his cock brushed against that particular elusive spot. Only Draco had touched so deeply inside, and at that moment, Hermione knew that it would only be Draco who would ever touch her…

She screamed as her mind overloaded with sensations of him. She had wanted this…albeit fast, perhaps clumsy, but Hermione Granger had wanted Draco Malfoy to touch her for two years.

Draco whimpered, his silver hand moving to grasp Hermione’s right breast. Hermione’s orgasm had been the limit, and Draco had known he would not last long… Spilling into the woman below him, Draco’s head became light and he collapsed upon her, his ear resting upon Hermione’s hammering heart. He wanted the same finesse as before, but it had been too long…and he was tired, too many realizations and surprises in one day. So, Draco lay upon the woman he loved, the mother of his child, heartened by the fact that her arms wrapped about him so easily.

When he heard her heart slow and her breathing regulate, Draco knew that perhaps Hermione had been more exhausted by the day than he was. Gently, he pulled away, taking in the sight of her, the glow of her skin and the peaceful expression on her face. He could see the worry lines in her forehead, something he did not remember before. Could he have been blinded to so much?

Flicking a wrist, he cast a Cleansing Charm over them both, and a hasty Contraception Charm. Kneeling between her thighs, Draco Vanished the rest of their ruined clothing, as well as extinguishing the light. And with the greatest of care, he took Hermione into his arms, carried her to the futon, and laid her down, brushing away wavy strands of caramel hair. Sliding under the comforter next her, Draco took Hermione into his arms and held her close as if she were a doll to him, precious and perfect.

Slowly, his eyes glancing tiredly out the window and into the grey spring night, Draco let sleep find him, and he dreamed.




TBC...