Chapter Text
The first night Hermione slept with Draco Malfoy, however, involved no whips, chains or gags. In fact, he told her they would not be engaging in anything new for a while. Especially while her new flat wasn’t ready.
“You were in the subspace when you asked me for it,” he explained, washing her hair in the tub. “I want you to think about it with time and space.”
And she nodded, because if she had learned something in those six weeks of their contract, it was that her Dom knew what was best for her and she could relax into his authority.
She would have hoped for some sex, though, seeing that they had already wasted the night before.
Well, she had wasted it with her bratty attitude.
Even so, he said she needed an extended time of aftercare.
“I need it too,” he clarified, massaging her body with healing salve. “The punishment is demanding for both of us; it’s intense and very emotionally loaded. We need to breathe together after it. I need to feel like I am properly tending to your recovery.”
“But I want—” She pouted, and he cupped her cheeks, squeezing so her lip popped.
“I know you do, Granger.” A peck on her lips, another in her nose. “And you’ll have to obey me, still.”
She was dressed in fluffy merino wool pyjamas before he took her to his library, where he kept his hand on the small of her back as she perused the aisles and picked a title for her night reading. Then, the night was spent in his bed, both reading their own books, sometimes stopping to comment or read entire passages out loud if only to praise the beauty of the prose.
They ate dinner in comfortable armchairs in front of the fire. It was a creamy soup, so neither of them could feed the other, but they made up for it by spending almost an hour slowly kissing afterwards. Hermione could swear that the basil flavour was a hundred per cent better when tasted from Malfoy’s lips.
He avoided holding her sore bum as she straddled him, but slid his hands under her shirt to rest on her bare back and elicit goosebumps nonetheless.
“Granger?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Ever since you came to work with me,” he began, his fingers drawing random patterns on her hip bones. “I have never seen you take any call that wasn’t work-related—”
“Yes, sir.” She had no idea of where that conversation was going.
“You said Potter and Weaselette sided with the Weasel after the divorce?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing conscious, I think. It just happened—”
“I think you should make new friends.”
A nervous chuckle burst out of her. “I think so, too.”
“I mean it,” he insisted. “Especially with our dynamic… it is not healthy for me to be the only person in your life.”
Was that the beginning of the end?
Was he pitying her?
Scared of leaving the poor, divorced, single mother without friends—
A kiss on her temple silenced the overthinking. “The book you were reading… I know the author—”
“You know Sarah Cauklin?” she gasped.
He nodded, smiling at her reaction. “I do. She holds these biweekly meetings with other academics, authors, researchers — all women.” It was funny; he felt the need to specify that. “I think you would have a good time there. Of course, they’re Muggles, but you—”
Her lips crashed on his, swallowing the rest of his words.
She hadn’t stopped to consider how it would be to sleep with her Dom.
If anything, she imagined the experience would be extremely sexual, with both of them naked and sweaty from the last session. Instead, Malfoy charmed their books to hover above their heads while she rested her cheek on his chest and he toyed with one of her curls.
Hermione fell asleep first and woke up with him entangled in her, his thigh between hers, both arms wrapped under her breasts, and his face snoring softly on her neck.
Perspective was a funny thing.
Context too.
She hated Ron’s snoring.
But Malfoy doing it was cute.
She sighed in contempt, snuggling closer to him.
Deep in sleep, he shifted behind her, and his leg went higher, pressing just the right button to send a tingling warm sensation up her spine. Hermione rolled her hips, already feeling her knickers damp. His arms squeezed her, but his breathing was still deep and unconscious.
Hermione tried pressing herself further against him, thinking that if he woke up already hard, he wouldn’t deny her sex another time. Pain bloomed in her backside with the movement. Thinking it was the spanking, she decided to push through.
Only…
It wasn’t really in her arse.
But in her lower back.
His palm had only slammed against her bum cheeks and her thighs.
He hadn’t slapped her back.
So why was it sore?
Her eyes widened in terror, and she lifted the luxurious white comforter of Malfoy’s king-size bed.
“Fuck!” she muttered, “Shit! Fuck!”
There was a red stain spreading down her thighs, on the sheets, in Malfoy’s light green trousers, everywhere.
Her period had come.
On her first night sleeping in Malfoy’s house.
Really, what game was Fortune playing with her?
Was it revenge for mocking Trelawney two decades before?
A huge breath in, steadying herself, and Hermione squirmed herself out of his embrace. Every centimetre she managed to get between them was quickly lost when he pulled her tauter, tutting in his sleep.
Hermione closed her eyes and prayed.
Her wand was close, in the nightstand, maybe she could scourgify—
“Granger,” he groaned in her ear, pinching her belly, as she stretched her arm towards it. “It’s too early. Come back here.”
“I need to use the bathroom,” she squeaked, hoping he wouldn’t open his eyes. “Please?”
“No.” His grip tightened. “You’re warm.”
“Malfoy, please.” It came as a sob, and his arms relaxed immediately.
Hermione reached for her wand and quickly whispered the scourgify, sighing in relief when she noticed it had worked. Then, she just needed to scoop herself out and gingerly step on the ground —
She froze.
The flow of blood that left her when she went vertical was practically hearable; it fell heavy and warm in her knickers, spilling towards her thighs.
“Granger?”
“Hm?” Her head turned slowly back.
“Aren’t you going to the bathroom?” Malfoy had both his hands behind his head on the wooden headboard. His biceps flexed deliciously, and his muscular chest rose above the comforter.
When had he taken his shirt off?
His face frowned in concern at her silence. “Are you alright?”
“Yes!” The answer came too quickly and in an unconvincing tone. She was pressing her thighs together, trying to keep the red waterfall from reaching his polished floor. “I just — er… Where did your elves take my things? From my flat?”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you need? I have clothes picked for—”
“Ladies’ things. From my bathroom.”
He relaxed. “Oh, I have everything you need inside. Shampoo, conditioner, body oils, perfumes…”
She had seen it in his glass open shelves. There was neither a tampon nor a pad.
“My things, Malfoy. Where are they?” Her tone grew frantic, maniacal.
His brows united. “I know you liked the spanking, but we agreed on behaving—”
“Sorry, sir. I need my bathroom things, please. Now, please.”
Her Dom was concerned with giving exactly what she needed, which is why he then did the precise opposite: getting up and approaching her.
“You’re flushed, and your legs are trembling. Are you in pain?”
Physical from the cramps. Emotional from the embarrassment. Mental from the effort of finding a way out of her situation.
“No, sir. It’s fine.”
“Let me—”
“No!” A guttural shout left her throat, and she flinched away from the hand he tried to use to grab her thighs bridal style.
Malfoy’s eyes widened because, when Hermione moved, a blood cloth fell on the floor near her feet. The first day of her cycle was always the heaviest.
“Granger?” All the colour had left his face. “What the fuck—?”
“Oh shit!” She ran as fast as she could towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
Malfoy’s legs were longer, so he caught up with her in no time, taking her in his arms and crossing the bathroom threshold.
“Put me down!”
“What is wrong? Is it an allergic reaction?”
“What?” she whined, mortified.
“Is it the salve? I hadn’t drawn blood! I — fuck!” He seemed to be in harsher distress than she. “I would never — I swear. My wand— Should I call an elf? Blubby has healing—”
“NO!” she screeched. “Malfoy, sir, this is not coming from my arse!”
He looked at her, and his mouth fell. “Was it my cock?”
A laugh bubbled from her chest, then she couldn’t hold it in. It was too ridiculous. “No. Your enormous cock didn’t mutilate my vagina—”
“Why are you laughing?” Annoyance brushed his features.
“Put me down, please?”
When her feet met the ground, his hands remained on her waist, unsure of her capability to stand up. Hermione took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself before speaking.
“This is not blood from a wound; it is coming from my uterus. I am menstruating—”
His lips pursed in a small O, as if at the beginning of asking what that was.
“Menstruation is the process where a uterus sheds its lining through the vagina as a bloody discharge.”
Awe, horror and distrust expressions took turns in Malfoy’s chivelled face. “Is this normal?”
“Of course, it happens every month.” He didn’t seem to believe her, and Hermione couldn’t believe a thirty-five-year-old man, who had been married and had a child, didn’t know about a woman’s cycle. “Malfoy, haven’t you ever heard of menses? Periods? Monthlies?”
Hermione shook her head, laughing, and turned her back to him, unbuttoning her pyjamas. Malfoy’s hand wrapped around her arm and turned her to face him, tugging her fingers aside so he could do the work with the buttons. “What is it? Tell me. You must tell me everything.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know about it. I mean, didn’t Narcissa and As—” Her voice stopped abruptly because she wasn’t supposed to mention his dead wife.
“We can solve this unbelievable situation in seconds if you decide to start fucking talking,” he hissed, annoyed, pushing her shirt over her shoulders to expose her breasts.
“Every month, my body prepares itself to receive a baby, so it forms sort of a little house inside my womb.” Hermione used the same words she had told Rose before going to Hogwarts. “If there isn’t any, it just throws it away. Like trash.”
Malfoy had his hands on the waistband of her trousers, pushing them down to her ankles. He looked horrified at the trail of blood all over the inside of her legs. “The house is made of blood?”
“Yes.” She giggled, stepping out of the trousers.
“You go through this every month?”
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
She used his arm as support to get into the claw-footed tub. With a wave of Malfoy’s wand, it was full of hot water.
“And does it hurt?”
“Not really, " she said, sinking into the warmth, feeling the relief. “I have cramps—”
“Muscular?”
“Yes, the muscles of my womb contort to push the blood down. Warm water is a great relief—” The ending of her sentence was cut by yelp when she felt a weird feeling on her arse, almost like a lick.
She glared at Malfoy.
He conjured a stool to sit at her side and then pocketed his wand.
“What was that?”
“I healed your marks.” His hand grabbed a loofah, and he began to rub soap in her legs, so gently she almost couldn’t feel it.
“Why? I thought you wouldn’t—”
“Granger, if you already have to endure this pain, I don’t want to add to the count.”
She smiled at him. “You are very good to me, sir. Thank you.”
Then, with a blush, she added, “I should have known that my period was close, I was stupid not to have been prepared—”
“No.” He silenced her. “I should have known. I can’t believe I never heard about this. Are you sure every woman goes through one?”
“Several,” she chuckled. “One every month from twelve to fifty.”
His eyes widened. “Girls were bleeding at Hogwarts?”
She nodded.
“But my mother and Astoria never talked about this.” He seemed deep in thought, distracted as his hand moved on her skin.
Dangerously high.
Lightly wiping the apex of her thighs.
Hermione sighed, eyes fluttering. “It is intimate.”
Malfoy hummed. “Were you trying to hide it from me? Earlier?”
“Yes. It’s embarrassing—”
“But it is natural, you say?”
“Yes…” Hermione was having a hard time concentrating; her period made her more sensitive to his touch, and Malfoy seemed oblivious, moving from one thigh to the other and then over her cunt as he thought about it. “Some men find it disgusting—”
His hand stopped. Her eyes opened, and she let out a disappointed whine.
“Disgusting? It is the only blood I have ever heard that comes without violence.” His eyes were intense. “If anything, it is… powerful.”
Her lips parted.
“I mean, it is a sign that your body is ready to receive a child, isn’t it?” At Hermione’s nod, he continued, “So it is a sign of fertility… Of life itself! People should be praising it, not hiding—”
She giggled. “Okay, I think you’re overreacting—”
“If blood magic is powerful, can you imagine using the blood of life to fuel it?”
Hermione gasped. “Blood of life?”
Malfoy’s eyes were in the infinite, inspired, full of intensity.
He shook himself out of it and then cupped her face, serious.
“What do you need? I will be with you during this entire period. Taking care of you. Tell me what you need.”
She was too lucky.
Not even helping Harry defeat the Dark Lord had been enough karma to give her that man. She wanted him forever. Hermione tried her best not to compare him with the father of her daughter, but it was hard not to. Ron would make a face when her period came, telling how he hated the metallic smell and even complaining when she wanted to rest. My mother never stopped for menses, and she had seven kids!
Malfoy thought of it as sacred. He thought of her as something to care for.
“Chocolats help,” she began. “Warm compress for the colic. Resting. And I really need pads so the blood doesn’t stain all of my clothes— oh, sir, I got your floor all dirty—”
A wave of his hand, dismissing her. “The elves have cleaned it. Breakfast is on the table… Unless you need a special diet for this period? Chocolates, you said?”
“It is good, yes. But I can eat anything.”
“Good.” He nodded before getting to his feet. “I’ll get you the warm compresses and the pads. Anything else?”
“Uh,” She considered. “Maybe comfy clothes? Like sweatpants and a jumper… I just want to curl into a ball and sleep for four days, usually.”
“I can make that happen.” He smirked.
Hermione spent almost forty minutes in the pinky warm bath, only to be welcomed by chocolate porridge with raspberry jam to eat in her bed. Lindy had appeared to dress her in a comfortable set of cotton knickers, a cloth pad, and a cosy sweat suit.
Malfoy was ecstatic at her side. “I had never known! But Lindy tells me it is normal and that she knows exactly what to do! Apparently, my mother enjoyed foot rubs while in her period. Would you like it too?”
She practically moaned her affirmative.
The rest of her week was spent reading in bed while her Dom tended to her every need, kissing her softly, massaging her body and enjoying long pleasurable conversations by the fire. He tried to forbid her from working, but her contract protected her from it, so he ended up just demanding she’d do it lying on a comfortable sofa near the fire with a warm blanket over her belly as he kneaded her feet.
And not once gave her a sexual command. She did try to initiate sex a few times, but he was scared of hurting her, and nothing could convince him that having a bleeding womb wasn’t painful. When she whined that he was feeling unattracted to her because of her blood, he offered to bring her to orgasm with his mouth, but she wasn’t that forward.
A couple of days after her period ended, Hermione went to see her new flat.
Malfoy’s eyes followed her while she walked in awe through every room. Her favourite was, by far, the library, full to the brim with books she loved or had not read yet. The living room had a stylish fireplace and a large L-shaped, soft, cream sofa that stretched along the walls, under the modern watercolour paintings that decorated the walls. Her kitchen was almost all white and gold, aesthetically clean, with modern appliances and a vase of red roses on the counter. In fact, there were red roses everywhere. It was a nice earthly touch since the lightness and openness of the entire thing, with floor-to-ceiling windows in every room, topped with the altitude of the penthouse, made Hermione feel like she was about to live in the sky.
Nothing made her cry, though, as much as Rose’s room did. It was classic, with empty shelves the girl would probably fill with books and a stand for her new broom. It was naked of decoration, unlike the rest of the house, but it was so careful and thoughtful.
“I thought it would be best for her to pick what she wanted to decorate it with.” Malfoy hugged her from behind. “When she comes home for the summer, you’ll have the money to buy whatever she wants.”
She turned to face him. “Thank you, sir, for taking such good care of me. I’ve never — no one has ever — I just—” love you.
“So you like it?” he genuinely needed to know, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“I love it.”
And then he took her to her bedroom, where the king-size bed was covered in rose petals, and pressed her against the window, so she could see all of Muggle London in front of her, as he pounded at her back in a steady, strong and low rhythm.
“You are everything I ever wanted, Granger,” he whispered against her neck, biting her flesh.
Doing it while standing had his cock dragging across a very sensitive spot in her front walls, and despite it being still early, Hermione was seeing stars in her eyes.
She had to bite her own hand, which was bracing on the glass, not to say how much she loved him and wanted him too.
And he was fucking her, his hands firm on her hips.
She was mewling, throwing her arse back to meet his thrusts.
Malfoy’s breath grew ragged, his pistolling was frantic.
“I need to give you everything you need. Tell me what you need.”
“You, Dom,” she moaned, just as her release came.
They showered together in her luxurious bathroom of pinkish marble, and Hermione got dressed for her first night out since… ever?
Sarah Cauklin had a penthouse not far away from hers, where she received twenty or so brilliant women to drink wine, discuss arts and politics, while encouraging and inspiring each other’s endeavours. Hermione was so engrossed in the deep and interesting conversations that she got inebriated from that alone, barely sipping her wine.
Her walk home was accompanied by Faye Beavers, a History teacher at the University of London who had attended the soirée and lived in the same building as Hermione. They both agreed to meet the following morning at the communal sauna to continue their conversation.
Her flat was perfect, but she wanted to sleep with her Dom. So she tossed the green powder in her fireplace and called for his Manor as she stepped into the flames.
Malfoy was sitting in front of the fire, knees wide and a tumbler of Ogden dangling in his long fingers. He didn’t seem surprised to see her.
She practically jumped to sit at his side, making him chuckle as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his lap.
“You look positively radiant, so I assume that it was good?”
“Perfect!”
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”
“I wanted to be with you, sir.”
His hands splayed over her arse, fingers digging in her flesh, possessively. “And why is that?”
She couldn’t say it just yet, so she rolled her hips and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Her hands caressed his toned chest up and down.
“Do you need something, Granger? Because if so, you have to be a good girl and ask for it.”
“I want to suck you off, sir.”
He had not been expecting it; his lips parted before he took a shuddering breath and nodded.
“Take off your clothes.”
Hermione climbed off him and went to obey, before getting down to her knees between his open legs. She ran her hands up and down his thighs while he worked himself out of his belt.
When his cock finally sprang free, already hard and bouncing up to hit his covered stomach, Hermione’s mouth watered, and she couldn’t help but wet her lips.
“You want it, Granger? You want to suck my cock like a good girl?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Beg for it.”
Her eyes left a particular vein she was admiring and slid back to meet his half-lidded ones. “Please, sir, let me suck your cock.”
His hand went to her cheek, thumb brushing her lips while the other fingers splayed to massage her scalp. “I have one condition.”
She waited for him to continue.
“You have to make yourself come with my cock on your mouth,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Put your hand on your clit and rub it while you suck me off.”
Hermione’s lips parted. She hated failing. “Sir, I don’t know how— I’ve never—”
“Hush,” he tutted, eyebrows twitching. “Be a good girl and obey, or I’ll have to punish you.”
Biting her lip, she nodded and spread her knees wide while sitting on her haunches, so she would be able to fit her hand there.
She was already wet.
Only by seeing his cock.
With the digits of three fingers, she tentatively brushed over the bud, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine.
Oh.
Smiling at the feeling, Hermione couldn’t help but steal a glance at Malfoy, who was watching her, biting his lower lip.
She wrapped her other hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed, revelling in how his thigh muscles tensed at the action.
Rubbing her clit, she leaned forward and licked all the way from her hand to the underside of his head.
He groaned, and she felt him twitching in her grip.
Warmth was spreading in her core.
She flicked her tongue on the tip of his cock, before closing her lips around it and sucking like a straw.
“Good girl.”
The praise had her fingers curling over her clit, and she moaned, vibrating with his cock inside her mouth.
And then she bobbed her head up and down.
Shallow thrusts, cheeks hollowing.
Pressure was building on the base of her spine, and her hand sped up.
She was gaining depth in her actions, covering more of him each time.
Malfoy began panting, his hand on her head soft and trembling.
Hermione was moaning, eyes fluttering with the pleasure she was bolstering.
His flesh inside her mouth was hardening to an impossible degree, quivering against the flat of her tongue.
Eyes closed, her wrist beginning to bite with the effort of rubbing herself, and her head moving up and down his cock.
She could already taste the salty tang of him on the back of her throat.
But he had told her to come first.
Her release was almost there; she could feel it, just beyond the reach of her fingertips.
A thick sound rasped out of his throat, and Hermione opened her eyes.
The sight above her was her undoing.
Her Dom had his lips parted, panting slightly, crinkles around his eyes as he watched her.
Open and totally given to her.
The buildup pressure inside her burst like an elastic band, and she cried out her explosion, her entire body shivering as she tried to gulp before catching her breath.
It was good that she did it, because at the same time, hot ropes of his cum hit the back of her throat and she swallowed them.
Malfoy pulled her on top of him in seconds, like she weighed nothing, and held her tight.
Her breath was still coming back to normal after her release when she decided to say it. “Sir?”
“Hm?” He was rubbing his hand up and down her back, while pressing several pecks on her crown.
“You told me to share all of my feelings.”
It caught his attention, so he leaned back to meet her eyes while pulling her hand to nuzzle against the inner part of his wrist. “Yes, I did.”
“I think I am falling in love with you.”