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Draco Malfoy leaned back, his head hitting the stone wall with a soft thud. His hands, bound behind his back with tight, magically reinforced ropes, stung from hours of being restrained. Blood trickled down his cheek from a cut under his left eye, the bruise purple and angry against his pale skin. It had been at least three days, maybe four, since he’d been dragged into this dimly lit cell.
Not that he was counting.
His tongue flicked over his cracked lip as he laughed dryly. The man standing before him, a towering brute named Garvin, glared at him, visibly irritated. Draco knew Garvin’s type: all muscle, no subtlety, a penchant for breaking things he didn’t understand. Typical for an ex-Death Eater, whose loyalties never ran deeper than fear.
“What’s the matter, Garvin?” Draco drawled, voice laced with familiar Malfoy arrogance. “Tired already? I thought you ex-Death Eaters prided yourselves on stamina.”
Garvin clenched his fists, patience visibly thinning. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“Am I?” Draco tilted his head, feigning an innocence he’d long since abandoned. “Oh dear, I must be losing my touch. I thought we were just starting to bond.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed Garvin’s face. He gestured to the men flanking him, a pair of silent enforcers with cold, empty stares. They took a step forward, wands at the ready, and Draco forced himself to remain calm, his expression one of absolute indifference. His mind, however, was fixed on one thing.
She’d be coming.
The mission had started out routine enough. He and Hermione had been briefed weeks ago about dark artifact movements, tracking a network of smugglers dealing in cursed objects around wizarding London. They’d taken down smaller factions, but this third gang was a different beast, with ex-Death Eaters clinging to the chaos Voldemort’s downfall had left behind. Hermione had been skeptical about letting him go in alone, but Draco had insisted. This crowd was his former territory. If anyone could maneuver through it, it was him.
“Couldn’t have me show you up, could you?” Hermione had teased, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re welcome to try, Granger,” he’d replied, smirking, though his pulse quickened at the mere thought of her. Somehow, Granger had become his equal in every sense of the word—more than that, even.
But those thoughts did little good now. One of Garvin’s men struck him in the stomach, the impact forcing a grunt from his throat, but he refused to break. The pain seared through him, but he only laughed, low and dark, letting the sound rattle the nerves of his captors. They circled him like vultures, waiting for any sign of weakness. Not today, he thought.
“Your partner doesn’t know where you are,” Garvin sneered, a cruel smile breaking across his face. “And even if she did, I doubt she’d be reckless enough to come after you. She’s too smart for that.”
Draco’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. You might not know my wife as well as you think.”
He enjoyed the flicker of uncertainty that crossed Garvin’s face. Draco loved dropping the word wife around men like him; they couldn’t reconcile Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater’s son, with Hermione Granger, war heroine and brightest witch of her age. Their disbelief was as good as a weapon, and Draco wielded it with silent satisfaction.
“If you think I’m bad… you haven’t met my wife.”
Garvin hesitated, and the guards glanced at each other. They knew Hermione Granger, of course. Everyone did, even these dregs. But the girl they remembered from Hogwarts wasn’t the same woman Draco knew. They hadn’t seen the strength and relentless tenacity she’d grown into since the war, and they certainly didn’t know the force of nature she’d become as an Auror.
Garvin signaled, and two men grabbed Draco by his arms, forcing him to his feet. His legs shook under him, weakened by days of neglect, but he straightened, meeting Garvin’s gaze. His smirk widened as Garvin struck him across the face again, reopening the cut on his cheek.
Draco laughed, full and sharp. “Going to keep talking, or are you actually planning to get something useful out of me?”
Garvin snarled, twisting Draco’s face up so their eyes met. “You’re going to tell us what the Ministry knows, Malfoy. You’re going to tell us who’s behind these Auror raids.”
Draco’s grin didn’t waver. “Or what? You’ll hit me again? I’m trembling .”
The guard raised his fist, but Garvin stopped him with a glare. “Enough. Lock him up. Let’s see if a few more hours in solitude will soften him up.”
They dragged Draco back to his cell, the door clanging shut with an echoing finality. He could feel bruises blooming along his ribs and jaw, but it didn’t matter. Hermione would know by now that something had gone wrong.
With a soft chuckle, he leaned back against the wall, letting his mind drift to her. She was fierce, fearless, his equal in every way. The fools who’d taken him thought he was the dangerous one. They had no idea.
Hermione Granger paced the length of her office, every nerve stretched taut. Five days. Draco had been missing for five days, his absence like a wound that refused to heal. She had gone through every channel, checked in with every contact, and combed through endless reports for any scrap of information about his whereabouts.
An hour ago, she’d found it.
Her gaze dropped to the crumpled piece of parchment on her desk, a hasty note from one of her informants.
Location confirmed: abandoned warehouse, South London. Draco Malfoy sighted. Hostage status uncertain. Approach with caution.
Hostage. The word ignited something dark and sharp within her. Draco had told her he could handle this mission alone, but her gut had warned her against it. Now he was out there, surrounded by men who would love nothing more than to watch him suffer.
She took a steadying breath, letting the tension crystallize into something sharp and precise. There was no room for hesitation. Draco had given her enough clues over the years about his former acquaintances, the circles he’d grown up in, and she knew how to navigate them. It was time to show them exactly what happened when they dared to take what was hers.
The warehouse was deserted, a looming structure with shattered windows and rusted metal siding, standing in stark contrast to the silence of the night. Hermione approached with a blend of caution and determination, her wand at the ready, her footsteps barely making a sound as she slipped inside.
She reached the main corridor, the faint glow of wands in the distance casting long shadows. The voices were clearer now, and her jaw clenched as she caught Garvin’s unmistakable sneer.
“Let’s see how long you can hold out, Malfoy,” Garvin taunted.
It wasn’t long before she spotted him, bruised and bloodied but still standing, a smug, defiant glint in his eye as he faced down Garvin and his goons. Her pulse spiked when she saw the bruises on his face, the blood on his shirt. The sight of him bound and surrounded by these ex-Death Eaters made her rage burn hotter. She clenched her jaw, steeling herself.
“Keep dreaming, Garvin,” Draco sneered, voice as insolent as ever despite his obvious injuries. “You’re lucky I’m here at all. You wouldn’t want to see my wife when she’s angry.”
She could see Garvin’s face twist in a sneer. “Your wife’s a fool if she thinks she can take us—”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Hermione stepped out from the shadows, wand leveled at Garvin with deadly precision. She didn’t blink as she cast her spell, her voice cool and steady. “Expulso!”
The force of the blast sent Garvin and the others hurtling backward. They struggled to regain their footing, but Hermione was already on the move, advancing with a fury that had the air in the room crackling with energy. One of the men scrambled for his wand, but Hermione’s next spell hit him square in the chest, sending him crashing into the far wall, out cold.
Garvin, shaking slightly, managed to get to his feet, raising his hands defensively. “Wait—”
“Did I say you could speak?” Her voice was ice, each word sharp enough to cut. She closed the distance between them, her wand steady, her eyes dark with a quiet fury. “You’d better thank every god you can think of that you’re still needed for interrogation, or I’d have cut out your tongue for what you’ve done.”
Garvin’s face blanched, and his mouth opened, but he wisely kept silent.
She leveled her wand at him, holding him captive with her gaze. “I know every one of your names. You’ll all be begging for Azkaban by the time I’m through with you.” Her voice dropped, deadly calm. “But if you so much as look at him again, I will make sure that you suffer in ways you can’t imagine.”
She flicked her wand, binding Garvin and the other men in enchanted chains that shimmered as they wrapped around their wrists and ankles, trapping them against the wall. Satisfied, Hermione conjured her Patronus, the graceful otter appearing before her in a soft silver light. She whispered instructions, and it darted off toward the entrance, carrying her message to the backup Aurors waiting outside. Within moments, reinforcements would be here to collect the criminals she’d caught, and she’d have Draco safely out of this place.
Turning, Hermione moved swiftly to Draco’s side, her heart pounding as she took in the bruises on his face, the cuts along his cheekbone, and the blood staining his collar. She knelt beside him, brushing her fingertips gently across his cheek.
“Getting rusty, Malfoy?” she asked, a faint smirk on her lips to mask the worry in her voice.
He managed a chuckle, though it came out a bit hoarse. “Not at all. Just giving you a chance to do your hero bit, Mrs. Malfoy.”
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face at the way he said it, with pride and admiration. She helped him up, her arm slipping around his waist to steady him.
“Glad to know I’m still useful to you,” he murmured, leaning into her, his usual cockiness returning. “I must say, seeing you like this, Granger—you’re terrifying. I could get used to it.”
“Oh, you’d better,” she replied, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “And I’ll remind you of that next time you go off alone.”
Draco chuckled, wincing slightly as they made their way to the exit. “Don’t worry, I have no plans of missing another chance to watch you in action.”
She bit back a smile at his teasing, her heart warming despite the chaos around them. Together, they made their way outside, leaving the now-silent warehouse behind. Reinforcements were storming in, but Hermione’s focus remained on Draco, the man who could make her furious and proud all at once.
As they reached the cool night air, he glanced down at her, his smirk returning. “You know, if I’d known you were planning on rescuing me like that, I might have gotten captured sooner.”
She laughed, a soft, genuine sound as she nudged him gently. “Try it, and see what happens.”
“Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, you’ll have to make it worth my while.”
His smirk turned into a genuine smile, and she tightened her arm around him, matching his expression with one of her own.
When they finally Apparated back to Malfoy Manor, the towering, shadowed walls seemed more welcoming than ever. Hermione’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around Draco’s hand, her grip never loosening from the moment they stepped through the doors. They walked in silence up the grand staircase, neither needing to say a word as they reached their bedroom.
Once inside, Draco let out a heavy breath, exhaustion catching up with him as he reached for the buttons of his torn and bloodied shirt. Hermione, though, caught his hands gently, stopping him. She looked up at him, her gaze softened, though her lips pressed in a line.
“Let me help,” she whispered.
He hesitated, but she began unfastening the buttons herself, slowly peeling the ruined fabric away from his skin, each movement careful as her fingers brushed over his bruises and cuts. A faint tension remained in her jaw, though she held back from saying anything. She didn’t have to; he could see the unspoken pain in her eyes. When his shirt was finally discarded, she gave him a gentle nudge toward the bathroom.
“Go on,” she said softly. “Get in the shower. I’ll join you in a minute.”
He nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before he headed into the bathroom. The steam quickly filled the air as he turned on the hot water, letting it cascade over him, washing away the dirt, blood, and the remnants of the fight. The warmth of it helped dull the aches, but he felt the weight of the day still pressing down on him as he closed his eyes and braced himself against the tiled wall, letting the water pour over his head.
Moments later, he felt the familiar, calming presence of Hermione behind him as she stepped into the shower. He turned to look at her, his smirk softened as she moved toward him, her hands reaching up to brush the wet hair from his face.
Her fingers moved gently over his shoulder, down his chest, stopping when she saw a particularly dark bruise blossoming just above his ribs. Her hand hovered there for a moment, and then, with barely a thought, she closed her eyes and whispered an incantation under her breath. The bruise faded, his skin warming under her touch as she healed him, working with deft, gentle movements.
Draco took her wrist, stopping her. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. “These are badges of honor… proof I survived another one.”
Her gaze flickered, her lips pressing together as she looked at him. “I hate seeing you like this, Draco. Every time you’re hurt…” She trailed off, her voice catching slightly, but she shook her head, determined to stay steady. “I just… I wish I could stop it from ever happening to you.”
Draco’s expression softened, and he drew her close, his hand moving to cup her cheek. He hated seeing that worry, that flicker of pain in her eyes because of him. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, and his thumb brushed her cheek in a soft, soothing motion.
“It’ll never happen again,” he murmured, his voice a promise, a reassurance. “I’ll make sure of it, Hermione. You won’t ever have to worry about me like that again.”
She let out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around him as she held him close, the warm water cascading over both of them. He could feel the tension melt from her shoulders as she leaned into him, her body pressing against his in a way that made his own heartbeat quicken. Her hands moved over his back, gentle and soothing, each touch healing a part of him that went deeper than skin.
Draco’s lips found hers in a tender kiss, the initial touch soft but quickly deepening as they both lost themselves in the closeness of each other. She responded with a soft hum, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer as the warmth of the water poured over them. His hands slid over her back, down to her waist, and he felt a surge of desire that was as much about comfort as it was passion.
They held each other under the water, the steam rising around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy that felt worlds away from the danger they’d just escaped. Hermione’s touch grew more insistent, and Draco matched her, their breaths mingling as the kisses turned more fervent, more demanding.
The rest of the world melted away as his mouth moved from her lips to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, each kiss met with her soft sighs of encouragement. She held onto him tightly, her fingers tracing lines down his back as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.
They moved in sync, each touch, each kiss full of the unspoken promises they shared. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only each other, and the comfort they found together, the healing that went beyond any spell or incantation. They were each other’s solace, the one thing that could make any wound, any pain, disappear.
The cool water running down Draco’s back barely registered, his senses far too occupied with the feel of Hermione pressed against him, her hands exploring his skin in a way that set his pulse racing. She leaned into him, her lips moving down the line of his jaw and neck. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, needing to feel the warmth of her skin against his.
Hermione’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into his shoulders as his mouth found hers again, deepening the kiss with a hunger that seemed to melt the last remnants of fear and worry between them.
She responded in kind, her hands threading through his damp hair and trailing down his spine, feeling the heat radiate between them despite the now-cooling water. Draco’s kisses grew more fervent as he trailed his lips down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, eliciting a soft gasp from her that made him want her all the more. She arched into him, her breaths coming quicker as he let his hands explore the familiar lines of her body, feeling the way she melted under his touch, her skin flushed and warm against his. Draco cupped her right breast and bit at the flesh right above her nipple. He rolled the opposite nipple around with his fingers, worrying it into a hard, tight bud.
“Draco…please,” Hermione whimpered.
He kissed the middle of the valley of her breasts before trailing to her left nipple and suckling it. “What do you want, Hermione?”
She guided his hand to her mound and Draco cupped her cunt letting his finger gently rub her clit.
Draco’s hand moved with a deliberate slowness inside her. Her soft gasp spurred him on, and when he felt her cunt gush around his fingers, he slid his hands around her thighs, lifting her as her legs wrapped around his waist.
Hermione reached in between them to stroke his hard cock before guiding it inside her. She sucked in a sharp breath, closing her eyes. It always took her a while to stretch around his thick cock. Draco slammed his hips against her until he was all the way in, her warmth devouring him.
"Fucking hell," he gritted out. “You feel so good, baby. Look how well you take me.”
His eyes locked with hers, hearing her soft whimpers spilling from her lips as her desperation grew. He picked up his pace until his groin was finally slapping against hers, the wet, sloppy sound echoing in the bathroom. The coolness of the water only heightened the heat between them, intensifying each touch, each kiss, until they were lost in each other, their gasps echoing in the steamy air.
He bucked, his cock pushing deep in her, impaling her over and over until she could hardly think anymore. Hermione canted her hips toward him so the tip of his member brushed that sweet spot on her upper walls and her clit rubbed against his pelvis. Crying out, Hermione’s mind blanked, void of all but pleasure, a familiar bliss filling her as Draco continued to pound into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her inner walls fluttering around his cock.
"Oh fuck," he shouted, and then he stilled. His body shook, and Hermione could feel his cock pulsing inside her. She panted, her pussy tight and still constricting around his cock, squeezing it until the last remaining drops of his release had been pumped into her.
When he finally stopped trembling, Draco pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths still mingling as they held onto one another, the world now a quiet, peaceful place filled only with their soft, shared sighs. Draco pulled out his cock, his cum trailing down Hermione’s thigh, her cunt left gaping as it clenched around nothing. His thumb brushed her cheek as he looked at her, his smirk softened by the tenderness in his gaze.
“I’ll always come back to you, Mrs. Malfoy,” he murmured, the words as much a promise as a vow, his voice laced with both pride and love.
Hermione smiled, leaning up to brush her lips to his in a final, lingering kiss, her own voice a quiet reassurance as she whispered, “And I’ll always come for you, Mr. Malfoy.”
They stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, before stepping out of the shower hand in hand, leaving behind the memories of the day and taking with them only the warmth of each other.