Muggle Marriage Law 51599
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
30,167
Reviews:
82
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
38
Views:
30,167
Reviews:
82
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
cap 4
Bookworm (april)
She had gotten an earful at her first breakfast at the Malfoy table. Mr. Malfoy went on about how important family meals were. Hermione nodded politely at the head of the Malfoy clan.
Mr. Malfoy already had his mind set against the young witch; it had been since he had had their first encounter in Flourish and Blotts before Draco’s second year at Hogwarts. How could he allow his wife to talk him into sanctioning their son’s marriage to this particular witch?
* * *
The first week was terrible for her. He had forced himself on her every night. She would wake up early as usual, always in pain.
Then their nighttime encounters were cut back to weekly sessions; more routine intercourse than lovemaking. Draco usually spent nights out with his Slytherin drinking buddies. She welcomed the break away from him.
She had settled into a routine. She would wake up way too early for his taste, 5:30 on the dot. Sometimes she would take in a long run around the estate before returning to shower; he would still be asleep. She’d shower and then get dressed and leave the room before he could even bat an eyelash.
She loved the gardens, the runs near the lakeside were breathtaking; the water lapping up on the shore, and along with the sun breaking the dawn on the water was beautiful. But there was one place that she had fallen in love with and it was to be her sanctuary at Malfoy Manor. She would spend hours in Draco’s library, leafing through material.
She sat in the bay windows or on the couch. She would even make herself comfortable at his desk. But her favorite spot in the entire library undoubtedly was the large plush rug; where she would nestle herself with one of the thousands of books that the library housed.
* * *
It was a Friday in late April. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had a function to attend. Draco had a scheduled dinner for the Ministry. Hermione had the whole manor to herself.
She retreated to the library. She ate one of the muggle chocolate bars she had packed as she walked carrying under her arm an old copy of her favorite muggle fairy tale. Fairly tattered through the years of leafing, her mother had given it to her when she turned ten. Before that, she had read it to her, in parts, as a bedtime story.
Draco usually liked her wearing the skimpy negligees to bed. She only wore them to appease him. Since he was probably going to stay out all night, she had slipped into her usual muggle sleepwear. She put on one of her three pairs of Gryffindor gym clothes; a grey T-shirt with her House name across the front in maroon and goldenrod and a pair of dark red shorts.
She sighed as she settled herself on her stomach matting down the dragon under her. She propped herself on her elbows and cracked open the muggle paperback. She read to herself, “Once upon a time . . .”
* * *
She yawned and blinked her eyes. Had she fallen asleep? She tried to stretch but her arms seemed restrained in front of her. She focused her eyes on her wrists. She was somehow bound to the desk in front of her.
She tried to get up, but the most she could do was to kneel on all fours. She shivered. She was a little cold. She looked down at her chest. She breathed in, flushing.
“You’re a true Gryffindor, aren’t you, Granger,” a voice drawled. She faced to her right. He smirked at her as he fingered his wand. Shirtless, he stood up, throwing her torn clothes on the couch that he had been sitting on. He walked slowly around her. He watched her struggle against the restraints. He placed his wand on the desktop.
“Untie me, Malfoy,” she said breathing hard.
He positioned himself behind her, like a wrestler would before the referee would blow his whistle. He ran his fingers down her spine. He heard her take in a breath. He whispered into her ear, “Why would I want to do that?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, pulling at her restraints again. He had pulled his pajama bottoms off.
“I figured we’d spice up our routine,” he said as he ran his hand over her breasts and down her mid section, eliciting a strained moan.
“I don’t want this,” she panted, confused at the way her body was reacting to his touch.
“You say one thing, but you’re body seems to be telling me something different,” he said as he ran his hand over her ass and then into her folds. She gasped and involuntarily pushed back against his thighs. He laughed. She colored.
He whispered loudly again, “Since we’ve already ascertained that the lioness was a virgin before I took her,” he heard her take in another sharp breath, “it’s safe to say that you’ve never taken it from the back.”
She turned to look up at his face. A look of utter shock and denigration shown through her flushed cheeks. He smirked at her and without warning, he quickly pulled her legs apart and drove into her. She gasped. He reached around her and gently rubbed the small bundle of nerves. Her breath hitched in her chest as she felt the contrast of touches. He kissed her neck, his chest touching her back, the silver rope chain cold against her burning flesh.
He thrust slowly at first, allowing her to get used to the intrusion. He heard her moan. He sped up. He gripped the insides of her thighs and opened her up a little more as he pounded into her. His hands ran up and down her thighs. Her moans drove him over the top as she pushed back into him. His hands settled on her hips as she bucked.
They climaxed together. He lay on her back for a moment, breathing in the strawberry and vanilla scent of her hair. He turned her on her back, the restraints on her wrists twisting. She grimaced in pain. He watched her eyes flutter. His arms almost gave out on him. He knelt in between her knees.
“Accio wand,” he breathed, still looking at her, watching her chest rise and fall.
She looked up at him. He aimed his wand at her. She shuddered. Her arms settled onto the plush dragon. She took in a deep breath.
“Do you want to finish this in here or in our bedroom,” he asked breathlessly as he sucked on her right nipple.
She breathed in. Not at his gentle touch, but more so at what he had said. He had called it “our” not “my” bedroom. She looked up at him, growing crimson. “Bedroom,” she said panting.
He smiled up at her. He gazed into her eyes as he held his wand. He touched her cheek. She grew redder.
“You don’t have to be ashamed, Granger,” he said, kissing her neck.
She blushed even more. She looked up at him questioningly.
“It’s okay to enjoy this,” he said pulling her up into his arms. “We are married, you know.” With that, he apparated them to their bedroom.
She had gotten an earful at her first breakfast at the Malfoy table. Mr. Malfoy went on about how important family meals were. Hermione nodded politely at the head of the Malfoy clan.
Mr. Malfoy already had his mind set against the young witch; it had been since he had had their first encounter in Flourish and Blotts before Draco’s second year at Hogwarts. How could he allow his wife to talk him into sanctioning their son’s marriage to this particular witch?
* * *
The first week was terrible for her. He had forced himself on her every night. She would wake up early as usual, always in pain.
Then their nighttime encounters were cut back to weekly sessions; more routine intercourse than lovemaking. Draco usually spent nights out with his Slytherin drinking buddies. She welcomed the break away from him.
She had settled into a routine. She would wake up way too early for his taste, 5:30 on the dot. Sometimes she would take in a long run around the estate before returning to shower; he would still be asleep. She’d shower and then get dressed and leave the room before he could even bat an eyelash.
She loved the gardens, the runs near the lakeside were breathtaking; the water lapping up on the shore, and along with the sun breaking the dawn on the water was beautiful. But there was one place that she had fallen in love with and it was to be her sanctuary at Malfoy Manor. She would spend hours in Draco’s library, leafing through material.
She sat in the bay windows or on the couch. She would even make herself comfortable at his desk. But her favorite spot in the entire library undoubtedly was the large plush rug; where she would nestle herself with one of the thousands of books that the library housed.
* * *
It was a Friday in late April. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had a function to attend. Draco had a scheduled dinner for the Ministry. Hermione had the whole manor to herself.
She retreated to the library. She ate one of the muggle chocolate bars she had packed as she walked carrying under her arm an old copy of her favorite muggle fairy tale. Fairly tattered through the years of leafing, her mother had given it to her when she turned ten. Before that, she had read it to her, in parts, as a bedtime story.
Draco usually liked her wearing the skimpy negligees to bed. She only wore them to appease him. Since he was probably going to stay out all night, she had slipped into her usual muggle sleepwear. She put on one of her three pairs of Gryffindor gym clothes; a grey T-shirt with her House name across the front in maroon and goldenrod and a pair of dark red shorts.
She sighed as she settled herself on her stomach matting down the dragon under her. She propped herself on her elbows and cracked open the muggle paperback. She read to herself, “Once upon a time . . .”
* * *
She yawned and blinked her eyes. Had she fallen asleep? She tried to stretch but her arms seemed restrained in front of her. She focused her eyes on her wrists. She was somehow bound to the desk in front of her.
She tried to get up, but the most she could do was to kneel on all fours. She shivered. She was a little cold. She looked down at her chest. She breathed in, flushing.
“You’re a true Gryffindor, aren’t you, Granger,” a voice drawled. She faced to her right. He smirked at her as he fingered his wand. Shirtless, he stood up, throwing her torn clothes on the couch that he had been sitting on. He walked slowly around her. He watched her struggle against the restraints. He placed his wand on the desktop.
“Untie me, Malfoy,” she said breathing hard.
He positioned himself behind her, like a wrestler would before the referee would blow his whistle. He ran his fingers down her spine. He heard her take in a breath. He whispered into her ear, “Why would I want to do that?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, pulling at her restraints again. He had pulled his pajama bottoms off.
“I figured we’d spice up our routine,” he said as he ran his hand over her breasts and down her mid section, eliciting a strained moan.
“I don’t want this,” she panted, confused at the way her body was reacting to his touch.
“You say one thing, but you’re body seems to be telling me something different,” he said as he ran his hand over her ass and then into her folds. She gasped and involuntarily pushed back against his thighs. He laughed. She colored.
He whispered loudly again, “Since we’ve already ascertained that the lioness was a virgin before I took her,” he heard her take in another sharp breath, “it’s safe to say that you’ve never taken it from the back.”
She turned to look up at his face. A look of utter shock and denigration shown through her flushed cheeks. He smirked at her and without warning, he quickly pulled her legs apart and drove into her. She gasped. He reached around her and gently rubbed the small bundle of nerves. Her breath hitched in her chest as she felt the contrast of touches. He kissed her neck, his chest touching her back, the silver rope chain cold against her burning flesh.
He thrust slowly at first, allowing her to get used to the intrusion. He heard her moan. He sped up. He gripped the insides of her thighs and opened her up a little more as he pounded into her. His hands ran up and down her thighs. Her moans drove him over the top as she pushed back into him. His hands settled on her hips as she bucked.
They climaxed together. He lay on her back for a moment, breathing in the strawberry and vanilla scent of her hair. He turned her on her back, the restraints on her wrists twisting. She grimaced in pain. He watched her eyes flutter. His arms almost gave out on him. He knelt in between her knees.
“Accio wand,” he breathed, still looking at her, watching her chest rise and fall.
She looked up at him. He aimed his wand at her. She shuddered. Her arms settled onto the plush dragon. She took in a deep breath.
“Do you want to finish this in here or in our bedroom,” he asked breathlessly as he sucked on her right nipple.
She breathed in. Not at his gentle touch, but more so at what he had said. He had called it “our” not “my” bedroom. She looked up at him, growing crimson. “Bedroom,” she said panting.
He smiled up at her. He gazed into her eyes as he held his wand. He touched her cheek. She grew redder.
“You don’t have to be ashamed, Granger,” he said, kissing her neck.
She blushed even more. She looked up at him questioningly.
“It’s okay to enjoy this,” he said pulling her up into his arms. “We are married, you know.” With that, he apparated them to their bedroom.