Released

Disclaimer. Sadly none of these characters belong to me. They like to come over and visit, but sadly the must go home at the end of the day.

Author's Note: Although you know who are the main characters in this story from the categoryis iis in. Please understand there names play a major role in this story. I have chosen to not use proper names in the beginning of this story, not to confuse you but to you to help you enter into the tension of the story

--------------------------------

Released

Walking down the curved road stone road he sneered at the vile looking shopes and people that lined the narrow snickleway that led to Knockturn Alley. Everything around this area was crooked – the houses, the people, even the street itself. Sneering, he caught his reflection in a dirty shop window and shook his head. Why would he always come to her here despite the way he hated it. This was not the place he should be. Looking down, he lifted the hem of his fine wool cloak as stepped over a puddle of questionable origin. With constant apprehensive eyes, he watched the passageway grow darker and darker as the houses closed in around him, cutting off the little sunlight that fell on the street below.

He knew what these people saw when they looked at him. His fine cloak, clothes and hair all impeccably tailored and cared for said he was here for the same reason all members of his class came – something illegal, immoral, or both. He didn’t belong here, at least to the untrained eye, but deep inside his reasons for being here were as crooked as this street. His white blonde hair glistened like a beacon as he strode through a stray shaft of sunlight that had, miraculously, found its way through the tangle of buildings. His expensive cloak fluttering around his trim figure as moved deliciously through the buildings, his mahogany silver serpent capped cane clicked out his pace as he moved deeper into the Knockturn Alley.

He only knew one thing, that he hated the place. Grumbling to himself, he looked subtly to the left and right to see if anyone had been following him. Why does she choose to meet here? he thought as he looked up at the weathered sign that hung by a singleted ted chain. Grimacing he read the crooked sign, Boe D’Ella: The Retreate for the Discriminating Gentlemen, before he nudged the door with toe of an expensive leather boot.

The inside of the establishment was as seedy and unsavory as the exterior. The room was in dire need of painting. The rugs on the worn wooden floor were threadbare. The windows needed washing. The mirrors mounted behind the wall sconces were black with tarnish soo soot. The only thing that made the room bearable, was the darkness provided by a few flickering candle flames.

Boe, the equally worn proprietress, floundered out from behind a desk as scarred as the floors she walked on when she saw him enter. She offered him cups of Firewhisky, a choice from the small collection of phials designed to “heighten his pleasures” or “extend his duration”, along with a plate of various sweets and enticements. He waved them all off with a casual flick of his wrists. It was disgusting to see her fawn over him. Almost bowing and scraping as she pictured the money he would leave when he, gratefully, departed from this place.

“Is everything ready, Boe?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Without a word he nodded at her and turned behind the tattered tapestry that hung in front of a wide expanse of doorway leading to common area.

“Oh. Oh no, Mr. Malfoy, Sir. That’s not for you today.” She smiled at him with a lavicious wink. “She has chosen one of the rooms in the upper house today.”

Despite Doe’s worn look, there was a quality to her voice as she called him that caught him off guard. There was a sweetness today that defied the look of her worn body. Swallowing hard, he saw the deep scar that she wore across her cheek, a souvenir of a spurned lover that no magic had been able to remove from her. He knew, by local story, that this was the scar that had marred her once beautiful face and sent her from the beds of the Ministry to the back allies of Knockturn.

Reaching into a small pocket bearing a sliver embroidered snake, he withdrew two coins and pressed them to palm of her hand, before walking off with a nod and a soft smile. The woman he was meeting was starting to have a bad effect on him if he was beginning to sympathize with washed up and battered ex-whores.

Snapping his can, he, he took the stairs two at a time in his need to reach her sooner. Abruptly, he stopped on the landing. Looking down at himself, he smiled ruefully. I will not enter with my heart on my sleeve. It is she who should quiver in expectation. I am a Malfoy, a pureblood of the most noble blood, I could buy the whole of Knocturn Alley if I so choose. I will not let her do this to me.

Taking a deep breath he slowed his steps as he walked toward her room. Measured, paced footfalls, filled the slightly cleaner hallway reserved more the more affluent clientele as his cane’s silver tip pounded out the beats of his heart.

Inside the room, she heard the slow steps and felt her heart begin to race. Swallowing hard she looked in the mirror and saw that her cloak was slightly frayed around the collar and sleeves and there small worn patches where she had worked to get another year out of the cloak. She touched her neck and thought of the necklace should wear if she could afford them, she blushed as she thought of the necklaces and jewels he offered her that she never accepted. Slowly, she ran her hands down her long hair knowing that with a little more money she could get it styled and designed to flatter her face. She knew he always delighted in playing with her hair. Twining it around his hands and letting it pass through his glove clad fingers. She felt a quiver pull her toward the bed as she heard the sound of the cane rapping on the floor as he neared her door.

Swallowing nervously, she wondered why she still returned here as she pulled the wornak mak more tightly around her body. Feeling it give around her neck, she gently tugged on the loose button on the collar and sighed as it twirled beneath her fingers, but held fast.

Her head snapped up as she fingered the button as she heard his cane rap three times against the door announcing him. She moved to the center of the room and waited for him to enter. It felt like ages as she waited for him to slowly turn the knob and begin their drama. She knew the script. The pacing for the evening having been set down before and dictated by him.

Her blood pounded in her veins. Her mind filled with the nothing but thoughts of him.

The knob stopped turning with the door open only crack. She prepared herself to begin, feeling the indignity of it all. There was a flutter of momentary anger as she waited, standing still for his inspection. Inside her there was a slight momentary flicker of hope that this meeting would pass quicker than the last.

Unexpectedly, he kicked the thick door open slamming it against the wall and shaking the small room. He smiled as her eyes opened wide at his entrance. He knew she was expecting him to be gentle. Kind. Caring. How little she knew him if she was still expecting that, especially today.

“Weasley.”

“Master,” she choked on the words that fell unbidden from her lips.

Cocking his head to the side he stood waiting with the open door behind him. His long hair tied back in an elegant queue, the expensive velvet ribbon – worth more than the new cloak she needed – caressed his neck as he coldly appraised her.

Without turning he took the door in his strong gloved hand and slammed it shut behind him. “Selencio,” he commanded isolating them fthe the rest of the establishment.

“Weasley….” The warning his voice held alerting her to an error.

Smiling darkly, he reveled in the fact that his entrance had unnerved her to the point that she forgot the rules of their play. He would be dammed if she would set the pace this afternoon. She was his. He could see that she needed a reminder of that today. The confusion that he read in her eyes was worth more to him than all his galleons in vaults underneath Gringotts.

“Must I still instruct you?” he sighed.

Swallowing hard she stared at him.

“The first lesson, Weasley, was never look your Master in the eyes as if you were an equal. You are here for my pleasure and my needs alone.”

Picking up the cane, he slowly ran the cold silver effigy of the hissing snake down her cheek, delighting in the way that her lower lip quivered as her mind fought against him and he body as she submitted to his will. Hooking the open mouth of the snake against the top of the cloak, he pulled it quickly snapping the frayed threads that the held tarnished brass button to the fabric. The sound of it clattering to the scarred wooden floor the only sound in the room, save the pounding of their hearts.

“Weasley, you know that proper decorum is expected at all times. Your second lesson was to always be ready for me upon my arrival.”

She stood still in the center of the room, her grey woolen cloak hanging open around her. Her soft pink skin shining in the light streaming though the widows that she had, undoubtedly, cleaned before his arrival.

“Why so silent today, Weasley?”

She swallowed standing still.

“Oh, Poppet.” He succeeded in turning the endearment into a mockery of mockery the feelings associated with it. Moving closer to her, he slowly ran the silver snake’s head between her naked breasts opening the cloak further for his gaze.

He knew his strengths and the ability to control people was one of them. The sound of his voice alone could make women shiver in expectation of the delights he wordlessly promised. He quickly gauged her arousal by the pebbling of her nipples as first the warm wool scratched its way over her nipples as he exposed them. With a dark chuckle, he watched as she unconsciously leaned herself into his distant caress, closing her eyes in attempt to revel he she sensations he created within her.

Dropping the cane to her naked hip, he let it fall slowly down her leg as he walked forward closing the gap that separated them.

Warm soft leather caressed her as he gently cupped her small chin in his larger gloved hands. Slowly his thumb circled her chin, lightly rubbing along her lower lip as he whispered in her ear, “You have never answered my question, Weasley.”

She looked up at him in confusion not remembering what he had asked.

Smiling he spoke to her in a voice used to calm wild animals, “It seems you are not as totally incompetent as you appear. The third lesson does seem to have made an impression on you. Oh yes, Weasley, your mouth does have far better uses than speech.”

She couldn’t speak. She shook her head sending her waves of long hair dancing around her as he began to push his thumb against her lips. Reaching with his left hand he pinched her left nipple making her moan gently. Taking his advantage, he thrust the thumb that was caressier ler lip into her mouth.

“Pretend it is me.”

He felt her small tongue gently caress the soft leather. The barrier between their bodies more erotic than anything he had felt. The warm heat of her mouth penetrated the glove, but he could not feel her touch him, only impressions of her as she pushed her tongue around the intrusive digit. She closed her mouth around him, closing her eyes as she began to pull on his thumb suckling it deeper into her mouth.

“Enough,” he shouted at her as pulled his wet thumb from her mouth.

Unable to keep his concentration on holding the cane, he dropped it with a clatter to floor. He felt himself grow turgid as she continued to suckle on his thumb. It always amazed him that she could arouse him with such little effort oh her part. But it delighted him he could effect her so quickly as well, he thought, looking down to see her draw her thighs together tightly.

Laughing hard at her response, he pu awa away from her. “Oh no, Weasley, you know it will not be that easy for you. Open your eyes and greet me properly now before I feel the need to truly punish you. I think you have perceived my little ‘reminder’ as a reward.”

Taking a deep breath and shaking her head, she knew he had affected her. She felt the warm pull between hegs tgs that had started as she heard him quickly climb the stairs intensify. She knew she could not look at him directly. To look at him was forbidden. Sighing, she lowered her head silently.

He knew what she wanted and knew that he wouldn’t give it to her yet. Rubbing his glistening thumb over her nipple he smirked as he watched her she shiver as black gloved thumb caressed the erect pink nipple.

“Weasley, I give you permission to look at me.” Her eyes locked with his depthless gray eyes. “Welcome me properly and you shall be rewarded.”

She felt his lack warmth as he backed away from her. Watching her. Examining her.

Reaching up she gracefully removed the cloak from her shoulders before kneeling on the cold wood and bowing her head. “How shall I please you, Master.”

“Retrieve my cane and than stand there.” He pointed to the center of the room.

He delighted in the way that she so willingly offered herself to him. Never had he imagined that he would ever be able to be with her, let alone delight in this unexpected side of her personality. Her body gleamed in the light from the window as he watched her chest flutter as she breathed. Her soft skin made his fingers itched to touch her. But it was too soon. He must stretch this out. Make it last.

“Turn.”

He watched as she kept her eyes averted, never making contact since he gave her permission. Her hips swayed provocatively as she moved in place. Her long hair dancing just above her hips as she pivoted. She had never lost the figure that first actedcted him despite the passing of time and events she had endured. He had longed to see her, as she was before him now open, vulnerable, and defenseless. She was his. And it was time to remind her of that.

“Come here.”

Slowly Hermione walked across the room to stand before him. Although she looked down at the ground and appeared to be the picture of submission, the smell of her arousal said she wanted this as much as his straining sex did.

“You may remove my cloak,” he said without emotion as he ld thd the snake headed cane near the bed.

He watched her eyes follow this symbol of his power and position.

“Oh, we may need that later,” he threatened her in his silky voice, “but not for now.”

She reached up and, with trembling hands, unclasped one of the silver snake heads that held the jet black wool between their teeth. Her small hands gripped the sleeves and pulled the cloak off. He watched incinacination as she stretched to take hold and undo the collar, her breasts straining as she leaned forward. Without a thought to his role or the decorum of his position, he opened his mouth and took one of the rosy nipples in his mouth, gently nibbling on it, before suckling in earnest on the tasty morsel between his lips.

Snaking his arms around her, he pulled her closer, before moving to minister to her other aching breast.

Although she could not see him, she felt him smile around her as low low moan filled the room.

Delighting in the sound of her moan he drove her backwards stopping only when he felt her pushed up against the desk near the window. Bending her back, he kissed his way down her stomach, watching as her skin fluttered before his assault. He ventured further along her body, until finally finding it his goal. With an almost reverent kiss to the apex of her thighs, he dipped his tongue into her tasting her honeyed core.

Her breathy sigh told him how much she was enjoying his attentions. Her voice caught in her throat as she felt him rub his still glove clad hands over the soft sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. He looked down at the exposed women before him and delighted in the way the setting sun played of the highlights in her hair, the way her translucent skin glowed, the way she arched subtly toward him as he brought her closer to her release. With a small smile he gently kissed her face as he stared to pull off his gloves.

Keeping her eyes closed tightly he watched as something akin to pain darted across her face.

His head snapped up as he looked down at her. His face once again schooled into its arrogant superiority. “Open your eyes, Weasley.”

She merely shook her head as she coned ted to lie back on the desk. “Please, Master. Please don’t make me.”

“Weasley…”

She snapped her eyes at the threat she heard in his voice. She watched him slowly re-button his gloves, resealing the total encasement of his body.

Looking deep into her eyes, he saw the pain that haunted them both, and something darker emerged from within him.

“Get Up, Weasley.”

Roughly taking her by the hair, he pushed her to floor. Wrapping her hair around his hands he moved her face until her chin was pointed directly at his straining sex.

“Please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?” his voice was cold and distant.

“Please don’t, Master.”

He looked down at her as she knelt naked before him. Her face drained of color as she swallowed. “Oh, I see that you do remember the third lesson.”

She ed hed her eyes and licked her lips as he reached down and unbuttoned his pants, pulling his hard length out. As he traced her wet lips with shaft.

She gasped as he pulled her hair using the opening of her lips as his chance to push himself deep into her mouth. He used her hair to guide her, direct her, as he pounded into her. The force of his assault threatened to move her across the floor, but the grip of his hand in her hair keeping her immobile. He felt himself tense. He was so close. Their earlier play had left him very near the edge. After several long pumps into her willing mouth, he reached his own climax, and flooded into her sooner than he had expected.

Letting go of her hair, he left her on the floor. Her hair was a y mey mess from where he had gripped her. Her lips were red and bruised from his assault. She sat alone, wiping the remnants of his passion from her lips as she watched him move imperiously to the bed. “It’s time for a nap, Weasley.”

She moved and climbed into the large bed as she watched him remove his clothes. She always admired his body. He was just lean and muscular enough to reinforce his power. She watched in fascination as he removed his shirt, relishing the way the light played on the dusting of almost invisible hair on chest. She found her mouth watering to taste the small peach nipples on his chest. But she swallowed hard around the lump that formed in her throat as he began to remove his trousers. Sighing as she saw his narrowed hips come into view.

He tossed his pants to the floor as he finished undressing, and she was struck yet again at the unusually careless way he tossed his expensive clothes on the floor. Hating to see him so casually disregard of the fine cloth, she jumped from the bed to retrieve the clothes.

Dusting off the dirt and dust thad pad picked up from the floor, she gently folded them before placing them on the desk. As she gathered up the fine raw silk shirt that was still warm from his skin, she closed her eyes and brushed it against her cheek breathing in deeply the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with unique scent that was Draco Malfoy.

“I should punish you for leaving this bed, Weasley.” he said with a soft inflection. She smiled at him as he watched her with his warm eyes. Patting the soft sheets beside him he called her, “Come back here.”

Placing the shirt to the side, she walked to the bed and climbed in feeling his arms wrap around her. She pulled away from him, straining to keep some distance between them. “Please?” his voice was so weary and tired that she wriggled into his embrace, unable to refuse him. His breath was warm on her cheek as he cradled her against his body.

His voice was soft when he spoke after their brief respite. “Why do we play these games?”

She didn’t respond. She only laid there in the warm circle of his strong arms.

“Why, Hermione? So you can go back to him and say you were not willing? That you didn’t enjoy it? So you can say that I’ve made you Mudblood Whore? She felt him shudder as he spoke words that now revield him. Words that had meant so much to him and he had bandied at her when they were younger, but no reinforced his own misguided heritage.

“It’s not like that.”

“Than what is it like.”

She didn’t respond. She just laid there in his arms.

He pulled her closer, tipping her chin so she could look into his eyes. “Tell me, Hermione.” Although he sounded as if ordering her, there was none of “her Master” in this request, only the man who loved her. The man who was willing to play her game if that was the only way he could be with her. They had established early in their relationship that they would never call each other by name, that they could keep the illusion going easier if there was no past or future. But he wanted to change that, to change all of this. Five years of only have a small part of her left him craving more.

He looked at her and saw tears gather in her eyes. “Look at me, Hermione. No more games. No more ploys. No morcusecuses. No more Master and Weasley, he spat the offensive name at her. “Just talk to me.”

Hermione turned into his embrace, ducking her head under his chin. The soft skin of his hands caressed her, running through the long curly mass of hair as he waited for her to speak. She hated when he was tender. It was easier not to remember when he was her Master.

“Haven’t we played games long enough? It’s been…”

“Five years today. Our Anniversary, if you will.” The emptiness in his eyes echoed the emptiness of his voice.

He smiled at her and gently kissed her temples.

“You don’t understand, do you? I guess you can’t”

“Hermione, Ron’s been gone for over six years.”

“He’s not gone.” She gasped as her tears flowed more freely.

“Yes, Love, he is.”

“I saw him only yesterday. HE IS NOT GONE.”

“When was the last time that he spoke to you? When was the last time that he held you? When was the last time that he touched you? Or, made love to you?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Hermione, you need to think of this locally. Where’s the brain that astounded us all at school?”

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.

“What do you do when you leave me? Run to him and say how I violated you? Is that the reason for this?” He gestured around at the seedy room.

He watched her empty eyes as his Hermione fought to rise from the despair that now filled her.

He pushed away from her. “That’s it isn’t it? There’s no emo inv involved if you think you’re not willing. Am I right?” he asked horrified at his conclusion. “That is it.”

She turned her back to him as she lay on the bed. She couldn’t look at him. See the hurt in his normally arrogant eyes. See the way that his realization changed the way he saw her.

“It’s not like that.”

“You say that all the time, Hermione. Tell me what you mean. Should I order you? Make it our fifth rule?”

She shook her head trying to make him stop. But he needed to push this. Either way he knew this was their last meeting for this game.

With a sigh Draco muttered to himself, “Fine than that’s the way it will be. Weasley, you must tell your Mr whr what you mean. That is a rule. You must obey it.”

“Draco…”

“Yes, say my name. Not master. Not sir. Just Draco.” He felt something similar to hope begin to kindle in his heart as her soft voice spoke his name for the first time in five years.

“o, yo, you promised that there would be no attachments. Just desire. A game. Nothing more. Why are you changing the rules?”

He pulled away from her and rose from the bed heading to the desk where she had folded his clothes. “Fine, we’ll go back to rules than. Lessons one to four, right? That’s what we decided on and that’s all we’ll ever share.”

Turning he looked coldly at her lying on the bed. “Get up, Weasley, I’m going to fuck you now.”

The look in his eyes as she rose from the bed stilled her. She felt another small piece of her soul die at the coldness in his eyes. “Draco, please don’t be like this.”

Without thinking, all the frustration, anger and disgust he felt flowing through him was turned on her. He roughly pulled her to the edge of the bed bending her, facedown over it. Kicking her feet apart, he pushed himself into her. There was no consideration of her needs, her wants, or her feelings. Just him. Fine than, he would use her own rules, her own desires to punish her.

He leaned down as he thrust into her, pinning her into the bed. “This is what you want right? What you like? Hard. Fast. Impersonal. Are picturing Ron inside you as push deep? Are you waiting for him to laugh and kiss your neck after he finishes. Do you feel his god dammed red furred chest pressing you into the bed.”

Pulling out, he heard her whimper out her need. Wordlessly begging him to finish what he started.

“Turn over, Weasley.”

She turned and lay there open tm, hm, her hair a burnished halo around her face that was now red from his vigorous thrusts forcing her into the sheets.

Looking at his glistening erection she smiled at him. Gone was the caring man who could steal her heart away from Ron. The man who stood above her could take her and force her to give him want he wanted. He had taken her before and gloated as he brought her to the peak of existence, how he was the only one that could give her that feeling. He had used her and left here body satisfied without ever letting her think. This was her childhood nemesis. This had been Ron rival for seven long years.

“Yes, please, Master.”

It was the word ‘Master’ that he would later remember as having set him off the most that fateful day. It was the passion filled way she almost moaned the wordt wat was the delight that he heard in her voice that was lacking each time she said his given name that made him see red.

Swallowing hard he ran a hand wearily through his hair as he stepped away from the bed and looked down at her exposed body. She was everything he had wanted since their seventh year at Hogwarts. He had taken her once a month for five years but ad nad never really had her, made love to her, shared any experiences with her. He was tired ofng hng her anonymous ‘Master’. He needed her today. He wanted more than a mastery of her. He just desired the girl she had been. He wanted her to be his Hermione.

She wriggled on the bed waiting for him finally opening her eyes. Looking into her passion glazed brown eyes she moaned her need, “Please, Master. Take me. Tell me what will please you. Make me do what you want.”

Shaking his head he spoke without emotion, “In the middle of the bed, Weasley.”

Smiling she moved in expectation of her reward.

“Yes, Weasley. Just right. Oh you are pleasing you Master today. Now, open you legs wider for me.”

“Good. Now, show me what will please you.”

“Master?”

“Touch yourself for me.”

He watched as she ran her fingers through her glistening curls. Her fingers parting her folds exposing her most secret parts of her self to her Master’s gaze.

“Yes, Weasley. Entertain me.”

As she drew her fingers along her opening, tapping her clit with a finger nail, she felt her hips dancing on the bed.

“Weasley, say my name.”

“Yes, Master.”

“No, Weasley my name.”

“Master, I’m… I’m….”

“SAY-MY-NAME, Hermione.”

She would later say it was the sweet loving way he said her name that sent her over the edge. That is was not his dark voice, his utter control, but his love of thatthat made her hips bucking on the bed as he sat there and watched her. “D…D…Draco please.”

“Yes, Hermione, Draco.” he whispered in her ear as he kissed her lips passionately pulling her hands away from herself.

“Please, Draco, don’t let me feel.”

“No, Hermione, feel.” He took her hands and brought them to his lips. Kissing her palm that still bore her private scent and the tangy sweet flavor that Hermione Jane Granger – Weasley. He drew her hands together and placed them over his heart, before covering them with his own. He let her feel the pounding beat that sang in his chest – a rhythm that she alone could creaithiithin him.

“Feel me, Hermione. Touch me. I’m real. I’m here.”

He slowly drew her hands down his body until she felt the warmth of his pulsing sex. He felt her wrap her hands around it. “Guide me in, Hermione. Show me what will please you.”

He fought the urge to come as she placed him at her opening of her dripping core. He fought the urge to surge completely into her as her hands moved to caress his arse, pulling him toward her. He slowly pushed into her; relishing in her body’s willingness to welcome to him as her equal for the first time. She tangled her hands in his hair as she arched against him, meeting his powerful thrust, and capturing his lips with her own as her tongue began to spar with his. Groaning as he moved his lips to her neck.

“Please, Draco.”

“Yes, Hermione.”

“Oh Draco, please make me yours,” she cried out as they exploded together.

He fell into her open arms as he collapsed on her, before rolling off her and again cradling her to his body. He felt her shudder as silent tears began to fall from her eyes. Weakly she batted at his arms where they held her. “You promised me there was nothing to this relationship but sex. My submission was the price for our time together.”

He let her beat at his chest while she worked out her pain. Quieting, she turned from him and rolled off the bed to the cold wooden floor. “Oh Ron, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Carefully, Draco rose from the bed and gathered her into his arms as he sat on the floor beside her.

“We were supposed to be happy. Isn’t that how it goes, ‘Happily Every After’?” She looked up at him with her brown eyes open wide the five year old battle scars still fresh in her mind.”

“It’s alright, Hermione. No one every promises us a ‘Happily Ever After’.”

“Ron did. He said told me that when the War was over there would be no more intrigue, no more secrets, no more loss, and no more pain.” He let her babble on as he slowly rocked her in his arms. He just held her, letting her work out the grief that she so deserved to finally let go.

“He was only 20. That’s too young to be killed. But Voldemort saw to it he didn’t die. Left him,” she choked, “worse than death. He’s just wasting away and there is nothing anyone can do. I think he knew, Voldemort, how powerless that would leave us all feeling. I guess he knew that would be his ultimate victory over us all. He knew he would do more harm to Harry like this than if he just killed Ron.”

Draco had always known this could happen one day. He always held his breath waiting for her to snap. Every time they met he watched her and she didn’t respond as the Hermione he knew. She just went about the business of living as if nothing had happened. Her need to always be the one in control was only let down when they were alone together at Doe’s. That had been the main reason he agreed to this game that he never enjoyed. It had almost been as if she had wanted to will herself to die with Ron that day on the battlefield, or at least to follow him into St. Mungo’s and that living netherworld where death would be a merciful release. He had sat by and watched, hoping and waiting for the time she would accept what had happened.

Finally, it had happened and he was here to pick up the pieces. Rocking her back and forth like a small child, he held her shuddering body close to his as he cooed soft words to her. He felt her sobs soften, small hiccups all that she was able to do as she slowly fell into a fitful slumber wrapped in his arms.

He smiled at the irony of it all, here he was the infamous Draco Malfoy – Malfoy the Ferret – holding the less than widow of one of the Hero’s of Light as she fell asleep on the dirty floor of a cheep Knockturn Alley Brothel.

Struggling to his feet, he gathered her into his arms and smiled as he felt her cling to him as he laid her on the bed. “Don’t go Draco. Please. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I just needed to move off the floor. I was getting dirty there.” he teased her.

He felt himself almost take flight at the unguarded smile she gave him at his teasing.

Climbing in beside her, he felt her curl around him as he protectively he wrapped an arm around her, and stroked her hair. “Sleep, Hermione, I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you, Draco.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

Kissing her head gently he watched her smile. He felt her soften her deathlike grip on him as she feel asleep in his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione smiled through tear filled eyes as Draco held the door open to Ron’s room at St. o’s o’s as she walked in.

She turned to look at him before the door closed; all of her fears were written on her face. “It will be alright. Go on. I’ll be here when you’re ready or if you need me.”

She looked down at the bed that held her husband. “I miss you so much sometimes. Do you even know that? I miss your smile, your stupid Quidditch posters, your socks in the hall, your stupid muddy orange cloak hanging on the doorknob for me to wash.” She swallowed hard as the words tumbled from her lips.

Sitting down on the chair that the medi-witch always put there for her, she reached down and brushed a lock of his rusty hair from his eyes. “I even miss watching you play with this unruly mop. I’m glad they never cut it, like I threatened you with continually. I thought I died with you that day. I know you know that too. I saw you fall down as Draco pulled out his wand to deflect Voldemort’s curse. He’s here too, you know. Draco. We have, rather he has helped me out. Actually he’s done a lot to help me through all the years. I know you might not be pleased to see the ‘Ferret’ helping me get through this, but he’s been so good to me. He didn’t push things. He let me take it in my own time. Actually, he’s been better to me than I have been to myself.” She blushed at her own admission.

She paused and wiped the tears away from her eyes so she could see him clearly. They weren’t wracking sobs, like at Doe’s, rather just a realization of that the pain was normal. “It’s just I need to start living again. I’m not really leaving you. You know I never could do that.” She reached down and clutched his hands willing her life force to bring him back, hoping he would respond to her. “But I need to be alive again. I want to have babies. I want to smile and not feel guilty that I can and you can’t. Do you understand what I’m saying.”

She looked up at the ceiling and didn’t even bother to wipe the tears away this time as they streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I know I promised you forever. But, I don’t think you’d want me to keep living like this.”

She laughed, “I can hear you laughing at me, Ronald Weasley. ‘`Mione, you study to much. Let’s go out to the pitch and get out of this blasted tower. Feel the sun on your face. Maybe I’ll just get you up on my broom today.’ If you can let me know that I’m right in this decision, please let me know. Tell me.”

She stood up from the chair examining him. But again there was no response. Nothing. For five bloody years nothing. She wavered and gripped the edge of the chair.

Draco looked is as he saw her gasp the chair and flew into the room and held her loosely.

Hermione smiled up at the concern in his eyes. “I’m fine, Draco.”

“See how he watches out for me. I think you’d be friends now. At least, I hope you would be.”

The door opened again and young Medi-Witch entered the room. “Oh I see Mrs. Weasley visited today. And a new friend, Mr. Weasley.”

“Don’t call him that.” Hermione laughed through her tears as she spoke, “His brother Percy was always Mr. Weasley. He always preferred to be called just Ron.”

The young woman smiled at her sympathetically. “Well I have to ask you to leave. It’s time for Ron’s bath.”

“I’ll be back again on Friday, Ron. I promise.” She reached in her bag and frantically looked in it. Horror stricken she looked at Draco her eyes watering. “Gods, every time I come I bring him one. In five years I’ve never forgotten before. Is that a sign this is wrong?”

Without a word, he reached in his cloak and pulled out the purple box. Hermione smiled as tears fell down her cheeks. “Thank you. Draco brought your Chocolate Frog,” she leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, “see, I told you you’d like him now.” Placing the box on the edge of the table beside him, she kissed him. “I have to go now. I’ll be back Friday.”

Draco’s soft voice chimed in, “If you don’t mind, Weasley, I’d like to come to.”

Draco took her in his arms supporting her weak legs as they turned to walk from the room.

“I think he liked that, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione spun around at he witch’s unusual statment.

“Mr. Weasley… err Ron. I think he would like you to come back with him.” She gestured at Draco.

“What?” they both turned with shocked voices.

“Ron smiled when he asked if he could come back.”

Hermione ran back and picked up Ron’s hands. “Ron?”

“Ink tnk that’s what you were waiting for, Hermione.” Draco’s soft voice caressed her as they left the room together.


------------------------
Author's Note:

If you have read to end please drop me a line and let me know what you thought. I have never written anything like this before. To all those who write, thank you in advance for your words.

susan