Illusions of Forever

Title: Illusions of Forever
Author: Emily North
E-mail: emnorth2002@yahoo.com
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If only JKR was willing to share... but no, she owns them. I don’t. I make no profit off of this story.
Dedication: To Inell, as always.
Spoilers: Through Order of the Phoenix
Summary: Draco has captured Hermione. Whatever will he do with her?
Porn *with* plot, and angst. I’m sorry! I’m physically incapable of writing smut without plot.

~*~*~*~
In 1685, Honore de Bonfoi was one of the most trusted ministers of Louis XIV and one of the most influential personages in the court of Versailles. His wealth was immeasurable, his authority was insurmountable, and his arrogance was unparalleled. Some whispered that he had sold his soul to the devil for he seemed to have a sort of power that defied Catholic understanding, an ability to make things happen in the way that he chose that seemed little short of diabolical. A few, scarce, brave souls even stated that they had seen him make whole rooms of furniture float at his will, create feasts out of thin air, and vanish himself completely with a wave of a slim length of wood in his hand. Once those few, scarce, brave souls were found lying dead with no marks upon them but a look of sheer terror in their eyes, the whisperings stopped altogether. Some things were best not spoken of.

Bonfoi had seemed absolutely unstoppable. One of the glowing stars of the French court was given to him as a wife, a magnificent estate along with an impressive title was bestowed upon him by the king, and all the courtiers in France, seeing which way the wind blew, took all feasible lengths to gain his favor. In 1686, it all came crumbling down. Bonfoi had protected himself against the accusations of the brave but his arrogance had left him unprepared for the machinations of the conniving. A plot to undermine the king was discovered, and the blame for it was craftily loaded directly onto Bonfoi’s head. For once in his scheming, manipulative life, the man actually was innocent, but his infuriated sovereign refused to listen to reason. Bonfoi was stripped of all the gifts and titles his monarch had given him, and was banished from court. The king changed his name to Malfoi and exiled him to a moldering mansion on the outskirts of an impoverished province. It is said he died there.

The house has not been openly inhabited since. No one’s quite sure why it hasn’t fallen down. Some say it’s haunted. A few say it’s cursed. Most say it’s simply creepy. All agree that it’s unsafe, to the point where even the most hormonal of teenager couples, looking for a place to be \'alone together\' don’t disturb its silence. Frequently, people forget it’s even there. And even if someone had thought to look over to the mansion on that stormy October night, they wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the ordinary. The place seemed dark, dank, and deserted, as always. They couldn’t have known that behind carefully constructed magical shields, a desperate struggle occurred within between Hermione Granger: one of the most daring and admired members of the vaunted Order of the Phoenix, and Draco Malfoy: one of the head henchmen of Voldemort’s forces and Honore de Malfoi’s last living heir.

“You look uncomfortable,” Draco noted with a mocking facade of solicitude, running his eyes lazily up and down Hermione’s restrained form. Hermione’s jaw tightened. He knew damn well she was uncomfortable. That was the whole purpose of the position he had put her in. “You know,” he drawled in that condescending voice that made her skin crawl, “if you begged *very* nicely, I just might release your hands.”

Hermione fought the urge to growl. If the arrogant bastard thought it was that easy to get her to beg, then he had another thing coming. Just because he had her trapped didn’t mean that she was ready to give in.

Draco leaned in closer so that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. He tried to keep his appearance cool and collected, but he was breathing too quickly to be as unaffected as he pretended to be. Hermione could tell that he was enjoying her helplessness. Very much. [All the better,] Hermione thought to herself with an internal smirk. [It will make him careless.]

“Such a stubborn little Gryffindor,” he whispered, his lips almost touching hers. “Don’t you want to just… give in?”

Hermione’s response was to lean in quickly, capturing his mouth with hers. Draco froze for a moment, clearly surprised, before giving in to her mouth’s attack. His lips parted quickly to allow entrance to her persistent tongue and he moaned in pleasure as she tangled it with his, drawing his tongue back into her mouth where she could suck on it to her heart’s content. He had been hard all day, thinking about what he would do to her when he captured her at last, and had grown harder still when he finally had her under his restraint, but the enthusiasm she seemed to show for mouthing his organ made his aching cock stiffen further in anticipation. The thought of that beautiful, hungry mouth devouring his throbbing erection made his knees weaken. Impatient to discover other places on her body that were just as hot and wet and invitingly eager to be filled as her delectable mouth, his left hand roughly groped between her legs, purring with satisfaction at the gushing warmth he found.

She squirmed deliciously as his fingers probed and penetrated her swollen cunt, causing her hardened nipples to rub tantalizingly against his bare chest. Unable to resist the temptation, Draco pulled his left hand out of her pussy, replacing it with his right while his left hand, dripping with her juices, slid up to one of her glorious tits, steadying it in place and smearing it with her arousal so he could lick it clean while he attacked it with his teeth. Wrapped in a sensual haze as he relished the taste and feel of Hermione in his mouth and his hands, he didn’t notice the triumphant smirk on her face as she shifted her liberated hands to give herself maximum leverage. Tensing her body as she collected all of her energy, she thrust up as hard as she could, knocking the oblivious man on top of her completely off balance. Seizing her advantage, she reversed their positions, and Draco found himself pinned underneath her body before he even had a chance to react.

A scowl darkened his handsome features and he seemed to be collecting his energy to copy her move and flip them over again when Hermione grabbed his stiff cock, aimed it carefully, and slammed herself down on top of it. The scowl slipped off of Draco’s face completely as his whole body tightened with pleasure.

“That’s… cheating…” he gasped out in a breathless voice as his hands slid up to caress her hips.

“You… always… say… it’s… cheating… whenever… I… win,” Hermione gasped out, barely able to form sentences through the intense pleasure coursing through her body as she rode Draco as hard as she could.

Unable or unwilling to respond verbally when he could think of so many more pleasurable things they could both be doing with their mouths, Draco merely growled in reply before burying his hand in her thick hair, sitting up and pulling her forward, chest to chest with him, so he could kiss her again. Once her mouth was securely fastened to his again, his hands started wandering, teasing her breasts, her clit, the perfect globes of her ass, and that random spot on the curve of her neck that always made her shiver. Merlin, he loved making her shiver.

Her hands weren’t idle either as they roamed all over his body, tracing over her favorite parts: his nipples that swelled and hardened at the briefest brush of her fingers, the play of the muscles in his back, the downy line of hair that led down to where they were joined, and that delicious, demanding mouth that always made her tingle in the best possible way. Both their touches had a desperation to them that spoke of the hours they had spent anticipating this meeting, and their fierce need to memorize every moment of pleasure for the lonely hours that would follow until they could be together again.

Draco was close, and he knew it. From the smug smile he could feel on her lips as she continued to kiss him voraciously while shimmying around on his lap, he could tell that Hermione knew it, too. Draco’s whole body tensed as he tried to will himself to show some self-control. Hermione may have won the \'who’s on top\' game, but he wasn’t about to let her make him come first. Reluctantly detaching his mouth from hers, he started licking, nipping, and sucking at that sensitive spot on her neck while dropping his other hand between their legs, using his thumb to tease and torture her clit while a single finger snaked inside her channel along his cock and crooked around to caress her g-spot. The effect was instantaneous: Hermione screamed fit to wake the dead as her orgasm hit like an exploding dam. Draco’s groan, by contrast, was barely audible as his hips jerked against hers, spilling himself into her until he was completely spent. Limp with pleasure, they both collapsed back onto the bed where Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione, cuddling her sweaty form close to his as they enjoyed the small aftershocks reverberating through their still-joined bodies.

“I win,” he announced smugly, albeit breathlessly, as he tugged the sheets and blankets around them carefully. The old house got drafty at night and he didn’t want her catching cold. Scooping her hair out from under the sheet, he spread it out over the blanket. He loved playing with her hair, and didn’t want it trapped under the bedding where he couldn’t reach it.

Hermione let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a purr as she snuggled closer. “I won first,” she replied sleepily, less because she really cared about winning than because she loved giving him a hard time. It was one of the games they played, where they pretended they were a normal couple.

It was an illusion, of course; a game of make-believe played by the last two people on earth anyone would have suspected of the weakness of ignoring reality. But their relationship never had been and never could be anything resembling normal. Hermione and Draco were strong and practical and disinclined to fool themselves… but they were also very much in love. Inside their bed, shielded by the strongest combined charms they could find, inside the house that the rest of the world had mostly forgotten and utterly ignored, they indulged themselves in illusions of normalcy. Illusions of happiness. Illusions that their hours of lovemaking didn’t have to end and that they would never have to leave each other’s side.

“You cheated.”

“Yes, and so did you.” Hermione didn’t try to hide her smile as she planted soft kisses on his neck and shoulders, licking away the drops of sweat.

He pouted, which made her giggle and nip at that protruding lower lip with her teeth. “How long can you stay?” she whispered, trailing her tongue along the side of his neck to nibble at his ear.

“All night,” he answered, smiling at her soft sound of contentment and the way she thanked him for his answer by redoubling her attentions to every inch of his skin she could reach.

“And you?” he asked, his voice sounding strained as he formed the question despite his best attempts to keep it calm. “Can you stay here with me for the night, or will the `Too Dumb to Stay Dead’ Order be expecting you to be tucked back into your virginal bed before dawn?”

“Don’t be mean,” she scolded. “The `Too Dumb to Stay Dead’ Order? That’s a new one.”

“And yet it fits so perfectly,” he replied disdainfully, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair. “Phoenixes are born knowing that they will live for a short time, and then die painfully in a burst of flames. So what do they do? They rise from the ashes, just so they can have the privilege of living for *another* short time and dying painfully in a burst of flames. I think it’s the best possible description for your blasted order, and your pothead hero in particular.”

Hermione heard the venom in Draco’s voice and automatically knew the cause. Draco hated Harry cheerfully and continuously under the best of circumstances, but he only got truly bitter in his hatred when it came to Harry’s relationship with Hermione. There had been a picture of Harry and Hermione in the Daily Prophet recently that Draco must have seen and… taken exception to. There wasn’t anything particularly scandalous about the picture itself; it just showed two friends doing some shopping together; but Hermione had been smiling it in while she held Harry’s hand in broad daylight, something she had never been able to do with Draco in the four years of their relationship.

It had been bad enough when Draco and Hermione had first gotten together midway through their sixth year and they had to sneak around and keep it secret from everyone. It got worse at the end of sixth year when Harry found out. He kept her secret but spent the whole of seventh year browbeating her into breaking things off with Draco. Hermione always refused. Then, at the end of seventh year, Harry gave Hermione an ultimatum. The decision had been made that the best way to protect Hermione’s parents was to relocate them to Australia, and it had been \'recommended\' that Hermione move into Grimmauld Place after the Leaving Feast, along with Harry. In that final confrontation, Harry informed Hermione that if she didn’t break things off with Draco, he wouldn’t let her move in and he’d let everyone know the reason why. Once it was known that she’d taken a Death Eater for her lover, (Draco had taken the mark Christmas break of his seventh year,) she’d be barred from the Order, cut off from her friends, and left without family and without support in a wizarding war where she was a well-known and visible target and both sides were against her.

Hermione cared deeply for Harry and knew that he was only doing what he thought was best for her, but she still had a hard time forgiving him for putting her in that position. Draco, naturally, never forgave him. He hated seeing the look in Hermione’s eyes whenever she remembered the way she was forced to lie to her best friend every time she snuck away to be with her lover. And he hated the thought always lurking in the back of his mind that someday, something would happen that would force Hermione to finally choose between her love for him and her friendship with Harry… and she’d choose Harry.

As soon as Hermione heard Draco’s tone of voice, she knew that defending Harry or the Order would only cause Draco to insult them some more. He hated that she had loyalties to anything outside of him. She focused, instead, on his initial question. “They won’t worry as long as I let them know I’m alright. Remind me to owl Harry later.”

“Bugger him,” Draco spat out. “He isn’t your father or your lover. You don’t have to answer to him.”

“He’s my friend, and when I don’t come home at night, he worries about me unless he hears from me,” Hermione answered carefully. Talking to Draco about Harry always required a certain degree of care and the fact that they’d had this conversation countless times before didn’t mean Draco made it any easier for her this time around. “And if he doesn’t hear from me, I’ll have to answer his questions in the morning. When I don’t have good answers, he’ll get suspicious. If sending him owls means he doesn’t notice the nights that I spend here, with you, then it’s worth it. It’s worth anything.”

Hermione held her breath while she waited for his reaction. The argument had been known to last for upwards of an hour when Draco felt like being stubborn. She hoped against hope that tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. It was so difficult for them to arrange times to meet that would make neither the Order nor the Death Eaters suspicious and this time, it had been nearly a month since she had last seen her lover. She certainly didn’t want to spend the time she had with him arguing. She exhaled in relief when she saw his expression soften.

“And besides,” she teased, shifting her body so that she was lying on top of him again, “if you’re going to talk buggering anyone, I’d much rather we discuss you buggering me.” She reached around to his arm that lay around her waist and shifted his hand down to rest on her arse. He squeezed it affectionately and she wiggled in response on top of his re-hardening erection.

“Vixen,” he teased as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

“Only for you,” she answered, dropping a kiss on the tip of his nose. Her playful grin melted into something softer, warmer as she lifted a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I love you, Draco.”

He tilted his head up to place a corresponding kiss on the tip of her nose. “I love you, Hermione,” he answered before pulling her into a much more satisfying kiss. He didn’t pull away until he was confident he had her properly breathless. They’d leave it at that. She loved him, and he loved her, and that would stay real even if the rest of it was an illusion. Illusions of home. Illusions of union. Illusions of forever, together. As long as they had each other, here and now, he’d believe in the illusions, for just a little while longer. He could believe in anything when he had Hermione with him.

“Now,” he said, giving her a wicked smirk while slipping a finger between her arse cheeks to caress her tight opening, “what was that you said about buggering?”


THE END