Hunter and Prey

Draco took Hermione to the Ivory Room, so named for the damask curtains draping the windows and four poster bed. He set down her baggage on the chaise, which Crookshanks promptly disdained and took himself off. The witch watched him go with blank eyes allowing Draco to guide her to the bed.

“Someone in the Department sabotaged Snape’s work.” Hermione explained dully as he knelt to slip off her sandals. Draco massaged her feet and she sighed, tears tracking down her face. He just nodded. She sat there trying to find words but this betrayal was too much. Ryan had been young and although a half-blood his politics had run darker than his file suggested. She had been shocked. However, he was dead.

Hermione had thought the matter at an end. She had asked for a review of Department employees by a Ministry oversight committee as a formality. Their report had largely cleared the SMS though Haddley had got a ‘P’ not an ‘E’ for Charms. Yet someone had switched the blood and not just once.

Draco smoothed his hands up her calves, kneading gently. She let him. Hardly a passionate acceptance but it was a start. He knew he should feel some reluctance in seducing her considering what she had been through. He promised himself he would leave if she sent him away. His fingers curved under her knees to massage the cramped tendons there and Hermione spread her legs automatically, letting him lean forward to work out the knots.

“There are Department wards on my house.” She told him and he nodded again, comprehending her desire not to remain at her abode. As far as he knew, there had been no progress in tracking down the ward-breach the werewolf had used to break in. Potter had not seen fit to keep him informed. If whoever had developed the wards had leaked the formulae then a breach could be tuned to bypass them quite easily. Draco did not want to think about DADA at this moment.

He followed his hands up her thighs, sitting behind her on the bed. Hermione stiffened with alarm recalling Fenrir’s last assault and screwed her eyes shut trying not to remember. Draco pulled his hands away as she choked down on a sob. He stood up. She thought he was leaving and she sobbed again. She wanted comfort, she did, but memories came rushing back at odd times and she was so overwhelmed.

“Look at the mirror, Hermione.” Draco was not about to give up now. She had not sent him away. He sat back down behind her but visible in the dressing mirror he had moved for the purpose. Hermione watched their reflection as he put his hands on her shoulders. She was still tense but her agitation eased. He could not sneak up on her. His long fingers made slow circles across her collarbones, gently at first.

He was vain. His fingernails were neatly manicured and unmarked by manual labour. Hermione sat passive as he progressed down to her scapula. She named the vertebrae as she tried to take slow, deep breaths. Her blood pressure was high according to Dr Kapur. She had managed not to smirk when the gynaecologist told her that but she had grown serious when she was threatened with bedrest.

Hermione flinched when he undid the catch of her bra. Draco casually pushed the ends aside to concentrate on a knot in her midback. He tucked a pillow between them so he could shift closer without poking her and giving away his intentions. She rolled her head back with a groan when he found a good spot, arching against his hands.

Draco was patient. Slowly he worked down to her lower back. He got her squirming in a way that made him very thankful for the pillow. She needed this and so did he. Massaging his way up he had her sighing by the time he reached her shoulders. Fortunately Hermione was wearing an old sundress, probably borrowed from Ginny Potter, so he could untie the straps and bare her back.

Her skin smelled of sandalwood. Draco rubbed his palms in leisurely circles. She lolled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. The view looking down was very stirring. Pregnancy had been generous to her cleavage. He traced his hands slowly down her arms. He was a very good masseur and Hermione only sighed when he pulled her right hand off her chest to work the tension from her hands.

When her fingers curled loosely in his, Draco let that hand drop and picked up the other. Hermione did not move to replace an arm across her bust to keep her dress from sagging. She seemed half asleep. He tickled her palm, getting a soft laugh in response. Her eyes were closed. He drew back to her shoulders then slowly forward, caressing her neck before he smoothed his hands down to cup her breasts.

Hermione opened her eyes. She felt almost drugged, drowsy and idle. She watched him in the mirror. His thumbs slid over her nipples and her body reacted. She shouldn’t be doing this, she thought, but did not move. Why shouldn’t she do this? He kissed her neck lingeringly then met her gaze in the mirror.

“I will leave if you tell me to go.” Draco squeezed her breasts gently. He knew they would be sensitive. Sensitive did not begin to describe his erection. Every time she breathed, she moved the pillow between them making it rub against him. It was slow torture. But if he rushed this he would scare her and he would never get this close to her again.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.” Hermione put her hands on his as he kissed her again. “Stay.”