Good Girl Goes Bad

The strength of their bond

The moonlight spilled across the plush carpet of their room, casting a serene glow over their entangled figures. The floo quieted behind them as the flames died down. Draco drew his wand. First, he flicked it towards the fire to block any disruptions to their evening's activities, then towards Hermione. Her lower belly tingled as the contraceptive spell took effect, but she took no notice as she removed his shirt, button by button. Their lips met once more with an urgency not unlike a fire raging from within, it had been building since the moment Draco had seen her in her dress, only settling as the two embraced it completely before rising in a crescendo of desire.

His hands, once accustomed to mischievous spells and actions of malice now roamed her body with tender affection and a reverence for her, tracing her features, her spine, every inch of her it seemed as if it were the lines of ancient runes, there for his discovery and his ardent admiration.

Despite her previous experience she felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness, no other encounter had meant so much to her. No other person had meant so much to her. She overcame this fear with the determination to love him as he deserved, with her body and soul, completely and without regret. With this in mind she responded to his attentions with immediate focus, her fingers threading through his platinum blonde hair, pulling him flush against herself as if trying to become one.

As she cleared her mind of all rational thought and order she became awash with an overwhelming desire for the man before her. Every learned behaviour was rendered obsolete, secondary to the moment they would share. The memory of the party lingered on the edge of her mind, the tinkling laughter, the clinking glasses and the subtle touches Draco graced her with all night increasing the fire raging beneath the surface of their skin.

The world beyond this room, beyond the threshold they had crossed physically and metaphorically from Narcissa Malfoy's impeccably decorated parlour disappeared as the distance between them dwindled to nothing more than a breath between them within the sanctuary of their room within the head's suite.

"Are you sure Mia?" Draco asked, an echo of the conversation they'd had before leaving the party. The vulnerability in his voice as clear as the sarcasm he normally used. Her request at the party had left him unmoored, untethered to this world or the next. All he wanted was to hold onto her and never let go. But she had to be sure.

"More than anything Draco, you're all I want" she breathed against his lips, sealing her admission with a kiss. This kiss held so much of her devotion to him, and so much of his in return. In this moment, this space, this time there were no labels, no houses, no blood status, no veela, no war, just the simple love of a boy and a girl shedding the remnants of their war-torn past in favour of something beautiful. Something uncharted. Something them. What could be truer than that?

Their passion, that fire, was a silent language, an unspoken harmony of redemption and healing, of broken-down walls being rebuilt in the shape of understanding and acceptance shrouded in love. Their hearts beat in tandem; they moved in sync with one another guided by its rhythm. She marvelled at how much her vision of him had changed in so little time. Once the boy with sharp edges and an even sharper tongue, now the man whose soul touched hers in a way which made them sing, it whispered to her as they joined and tethered her to him completely.

With each tender kiss and caress, they unravelled layer by layer, until nothing remained but the raw emotion of their bond and the strength of their need for one another. Moonlight spilled through the gossamer curtains, casting a silvery glow over entwined limbs and tangled sheets. The air around them seemed to hum, to vibrate with an ancient magic so pure it cleansed their very souls, a silent witness to the pinnacle of whispered promises and unspoken desires.

In the sacredness of their union, Draco's touch became a soothing balm, once more tracing the contours of her body with a reverence close to worship, as if memorizing every inch of her physique for always.