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Draco. Motherfucking. Malfoy.
Of course, it was Draco Malfoy.
Hermione let out an exasperated, defeated groan as he sauntered into the Ministry-appointed meeting room.
She knew she wasn’t the only 8th-year student at Hogwarts who had applied for the Ministry internship, but she couldn’t believe her horrific luck that her partner for the upcoming semester was doomed to be none other than Draco sodding Malfoy.
“Granger.” He nodded his head in her direction before taking the chair opposite hers.
Hemione ground her teeth silently as she prepared herself for making a new first impression on a man who used to be a boy she hated—and who hated her. A boy whom she had hated just a little extra for how damn cute she found his evil little face. It was an unwelcome attraction, but a pervasive one.
“Malfoy.” She refused to make eye contact as she spat the name his direction, using much more venom than was truly necessary.
Afraid to be caught looking him up and down, she kept her head low to take in his choice in robes for the day. He looked stunning. Green, silk-lined velvet dressings, and a neat, black, tailored jumper/pants combo underneath. Honestly, he looked delicious—and her brain was certain to let her know just that.
The silence between them ballooned until it filled the entire space they shared in the tiny meeting room. There was something comforting about it. She didn’t feel awkwardness, just a mutual silence shared by two people who simply had nothing to say. She hoped mutely that things could stay that way between them. Just a mutual acknowledgement and then a comfortable silence.
She kept her head bowed, staring at her memo pad on the table before her as the memories slowly flooded her brain. Well, ‘memories’ wasn’t exactly the right word. The intrusive thoughts? The fantasies? The bedtime stories her subconscious had told her for years? Whatever they were, they were largely inappropriate and frankly depraved.
She felt her cheeks warm as her brain locked in on the man in front of her. Her thighs unbiddenly started to fidget and rub against each other. Why did he have this effect on her? She had wondered as much for years, ever since the day she hit him. The sparks she felt as she made contact with his skin had radiated up her arm and deep into her shoulders—jolting her full body as though she had been struck by a bliss-inducing bolt of lightning.
“That felt good!” did little to explain how good it felt.
Hours later, watching the interaction from across the yard, she was able to catch the flash of something terrifying in his eyes as he cowered from her and eventually as he fled. She watched his hand clutch to his chest as he retreated into the castle, after demanding that his cronies not utter a word about the encounter to anyone. She noted how affected he seemed to be by her touch and how he didn’t seem capable of containing the surge of emotions that it brought him.
———
“Fuck me, Draco!” she screamed. “Fuck me!!”
“You know better, sweetheart. What’s my name?”
“Daddy,” she gasped. “Fuck me, Daddy!”
“No manners?”
“Please! Please Daddy! Please fuck me.”
“Anything for you, baby.”
———
After an eon of silence and allowing her brain to hijack her sanity, something startled her back to reality. Draco purposefully cleared his throat and adjusted himself, moving to a more comfortable position with his legs crossed.
Hermione’s eyes shot up to face him, horrified by what she had just been envisioning, sitting merely a meter away from him.
She was shocked to see him staring back at her. His eyes were locked on her face, searching her for something. Something she couldn’t place. If it were possible, her cheeks heated even more. She was sure that she had the complexion of a tomato at this point.
Draco cleared his throat again as he broke their eye contact and started to stare at the wall to his left. She noticed his hands folded in his lap and how he was nervously playing with the signet ring on his right hand. What does he have to be nervous about?
“Malf—” Hermione started, but was interrupted by the door to the room suddenly swinging open to announce the entry of a ministry clerk coming to give them their missives.
“Hello, students!” The cheery woman beamed as she took her place at the head of the table. “My name is Isadora. On behalf of the ministry, we are so glad to have the best young minds from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry here with us for the semester. We are certain that your role here will be mutually fulfilling and rewarding.”
She handed both of them an envelope that had their name written on it in swooping, swirling caligraphy.
“Those are your formal welcome letters. We will need you to meet here once a week, preferably on Wednesday afternoons. We can make adjustments to your class schedules once school starts up again in a few weeks. But, in the past, Hogwarts has been very amenable to considering your ministry page duties.”
Hermione nodded along with the woman’s spiel, trying desperately to ignore the man across the table from her. But it was becoming more and more difficult with every word she spoke.
“This meeting room will be your office. I hope you don’t mind sharing,” the clerk’s bubbly voice chuckled.
Both Hermione and Draco’s eyes suddenly went wide as they snuck a glance towards each other. They most certainly minded. Draco looked like he might fall out of his chair, the way his face drained of color.
“Here’s your first assignment!” the woman beamed as she tapped her wand to the tabletop, and a small stack of paperwork appeared. “Some assignments will require extra research, and others may even need you to do some field work. Just make sure that you alert Jeremiah or me when you’re going out for any kind of investigation.”
Hermione gave a hollow nod to Isadora as she reached out to grab the first document from the pile in front of her.
“You two have fun! I will be back to check on you this afternoon! Don’t forget to take a little lunch break!”
And with that, she was out the door… And Draco and Hermione were alone.
———
“Oh, Draco,” she moaned as she tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him.
“Come here, baby. I want to taste you.”
“Mmmn, yes please, Daddy.”
“That’s my girl,” he purred.
———
“Granger!” Draco barked suddenly.
Hermione’s head shot up as she sprang to attention.
He was glaring at her.
“What?!” she hissed back, sounding and looking much more confident than she felt.
Draco worried with his lip and continued to stare at her; he seemed to be at a loss for words. His hands were back to fidgeting in his lap, and he seemed wholly uncomfortable.
“Just wanted to remind you to focus,” he managed to say through gritted teeth as he gestured to the document in her hands. She had yet to read the title.
Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she returned his glare. “How kind of you to remind me.”
“Of course,” he sneered. “This is riveting journalism here!”
Draco smirked as he waved his copy of the document at her. It was a familiar, pompous facial expression. Hermione’s eyes rolled on their own accord.
———
“I will make those eyes roll if you keep up that attitude,” he huffed.
“Will you, Daddy?” she sighed breathlessly, leaning forward onto the table, desperate to be closer to him.
“Would you like that? You pretty little thing, you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she hummed as her eyes slipped closed.
———
Hermione inhaled sharply when she realized how close she’d come to saying that last line outloud. She immediately sat up straight again, pulling her chest off the table where she had leaned towards him in her daydream.
“I think I need some air,” she whispered as she rose from her seat and headed for the door.
“Yeah, I think you do too,” Draco muttered under his breath as the door swung closed.
———
“Fuck, yes. Just like that, Daddy!” she cried as his fingers curled inside her.
“You like that, baby?”
She moaned in response and let her head fall back onto his chest.
“Of course you do. My sweet girl.”
———
Hermione swallowed her groans as she coaxed herself to completion in the department loo. Her breathing was ragged by the time she finished, but she finally felt like she had some control of herself. Okay, you can do this. Whatever the hell ‘this’ is.
But as she started to leave the restroom, she felt the familiar assault on her senses. The daydreams were back already, but this time is was different. In reality, her back hit the tiled wall behind the door, but her mind was elsewhere.
———
“Fuck! Hermione,” he moaned into her ear from behind her. “For fucksake.”
“Draco?” she whimpered, leaning back into his chest, too aroused to focus on her confusion.
“Look what you fucking do to me,” he groaned as he gestured to his engorged cock that was straining to escape his trousers.
“I do that?” she asked in an airy voice.
“Yes, baby. Just the thought of you can do that.”
Hermione hummed as she turned to plant kisses along his jugular vein.
“You’ve fucking ruined me.” His voice cracked as she leaned back to free his cock from his apparel.
“Yeah, Daddy?” she whispered, out of breath from grinding on him.
“Oh yeah,” he sighed as he slid into her like he’d done it hundreds of times.
“Every night for the last five years,” Draco murmured against the soft skin of her shoulder.
“Every night?”
“Every fucking night, ‘Mione,” he grunted as he started to rut into her more fervently.
“I know, Daddy,” she whined as he stretched her.
“Oh, I know you know, baby.”
———
Hermione’s hand flew to her chest as she doubled over to catch her breath.
Holy fuck.
Her hands trembled as she fiddled with the lock to let herself out of the restroom.
In her hurry to escape the fantasies, she stumbled out into the hallway and collided with something hard and firm. Another wall?
No. This wall had hands that had reached out to grip her upper arms and steady her.
This wall had the warmest chest that she couldn’t help but nuzzle her cheek against.
It had the most steady heartbeat, one that she was intimately familiar with. One she’d fallen asleep listening to for the last half a decade.
It had beautiful grey eyes and wavy pale hair. It had the most beguiling smirk she’d ever seen.
“Granger.” His voice sounded strained.
She immediately pulled her face away from his chest with a gasp and started to straighten her blouse.
She nodded at him in thanks for catching her and turned on her heel to march back to their shared ‘office.’
———
“I’m sorry, baby,” Draco sighed as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It’s always easier in here, huh?”
Hermione looked up at him with the saddest doe eyes and gave him a little nod.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” His hand cupped her cheek.
“You promise?”
“Absolutely. You’re mine.”
———
After trying to read through the document in her lap for the third time, Hermione let out a little huff of frustration. Apparently, she couldn’t do anything in his presence except be horny and be ashamed of being so horny. How maddening it was to be in love with a figment of her imagination. And how infuriating that her imagination had given that figment his voice, his face, his eyes. How fucking criminal that her mind hadn’t let her even look at another man in the last half a decade. In her fantasyland, she was too committed to her Prince Charming.
She remembered how her subconscious had reacted the night she’d let the thrill of the moment lead her to kiss Ron last year. How cold and broken the mirage of Draco had felt that night before bed. The betrayal in his eyes and the pain in his voice as he asked her if she’d rather have the Weasel. She remembered the tears that slid down her cheeks as she held him and begged for forgiveness. Her promises to stay faithful were resolute and sound.
She remembered when she and her imaginary friend were still children. How she’d first seen his beautiful grey eyes staring over her in her bed in Gryffindor Tower the night she’d hit him. He’d looked confused and irritated, she was sure she had too. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d screamed and hidden under the covers. But, as this became a nightly thing, he took to sitting on the end of her bed and simply watching her as she cuddled in to sleep. It was protective and comforting. A guardian angel.
She remembered how, the following year, the figment of her imagination started to tuck her in and sit on the edge of the bed near her waist. How he would hum to himself and tuck her hair behind her ear when it tickled her. How he would tell her she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and how that led to him kissing her forehead on the night of her 16th birthday, their 6th year, and how that became a ritual.
She remembered the night a few months later when he came to her, shaking with his hands clutched to his chest as though it ached. She had asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t divulge. That was the night she’d scooted to the edge of her four-poster and made room for an apparition to wriggle in under her quilt. They held each other all night long, and every night since.
She remembered the following year sleeping in that horrible tent with Ron and Harry, waiting every night for her lover to appear and hold her tight—the only thing that would keep the nightmares at bay. His lips were a balm to her frayed nerves and a much-needed distraction. He would check on her religiously, making sure she had eaten, making sure she knew he was with her.
She remembered the night after his aunt carved a slur into her arm, and how his knees had hit the floor as he sobbed, clutching her robes. How he’d begged her forgiveness. How he vowed to kill the bitch. How he’d wept for what felt like hours and looked over every inch of her to take a full inventory of her ailments. “I can’t ever let anything happen to you, Hermione. Never again.”
She remembered the first time he told her that he loved her. The first time they’d made love. The first time they fucked. The first time she’d called him Daddy. When the apparition had become more than a ghost to her, but a living thing that she clung to every night to maintain her sanity.
Perhaps that was paradoxical.
How funny to have an imaginary relationship with her arch-enemy be what ‘maintained her sanity.’
———
“Hermione?” he asked gently.
“Yes?”
“Are you thinking about me?”
“Always, Draco,” she hummed.
———
The document in her hand was titled “VEELA MATING BONDS: CONSEQUENCES AND PERMENANCE.” Between every few lines, she snuck a glance up at the living flesh and blood that embodied her fantasies. Every line delivered a near-fatal blow to her understanding of reality, but she read on regardless. Her mind was clouded with an urgency that she hadn’t felt in years. Her desire to learn more felt like a lifeline to which she must cling.
PUREBLOOD HERRITAGE—THE VEELA AND THE WIZARD
“The intermarriage of wizard-kind with that of the Veela is one with little study and many questions.”
SACRED PAIRINGS, ORDAINED BY THE STARS
“Descendants have little control over who their Veela selects as a mate. They are helpless to biology and fate as their more animalistic side selects their other half.”
SKIN TO SKIN CONTACT DURING PRESENTATION
“The Veela’s decision is solidified when the descendant makes physical contact with their intended.”
THE PHYSICAL REACTION OF A HUMAN MATE
“The human in question will feel the effects of this pairing in a manner potentially more potent than their Veela partner. This can lead to delusions, withdrawals, and parasocial devotion to their mate.”
LEGILIMENS: THE DREAM WALKERS—JOINT HALLUCINATIONS
“When the Veela is also a powerful witch, she is certain to excel in the ancient art of legilimency. This will allow her to facilitate shared hallucinations between herself and her intended mate. This is a powerful magic—one that even the strongest-willed wizards cannot escape. Once a bond has been formed and the pair have joined via telepathic communion, the bond is all but irrevocable.”
OVERWHELMING FEELINGS OF SEXUAL ATTRACTION
“At the age of maturity, this infatuation is often paired with a primal, animalistic need to mate with their intended. The Veela will stop at almost nothing in their attempts to be bred by their mates.”
DEVOTION BORDERING ON OBSESSION
“The Veela is a jealous, reactive, emotional creature. They do not take well to outsiders, especially other women near their intended mates.”
INEVITABLE MATING
“If a pairing has progressed to this point, it is certain that the Veela and their mate will indeed complete the mating ritual and become as one.”
REJECTION AND THE AFTERMATH
“If a Veela’s mate rejects them, little is known of the outcome besides one guarantee: certain death.”
Hermione’s breath caught in her throat.
———
“Draco?”
“My love?” he whispered back.
“…Certain death?”
———
“Certain death,” Malfoy mumbled softly. “It’s what I deserve after all these years of cowardice and malice.”
As unrealistic as it sounded, Hermione could feel her heart breaking inside her chest. This is impossible.
“Draco?” she whispered. It was the first time in five years that she had uttered his first name aloud.
“Hermione,” he groaned softly as he said it—like her name was the most delicious thing his mouth had ever tasted.
“Draco,” she gasped. “Is this—? Are you—? Am I—?”
As she stumbled through her words, she saw his head hanging low and dejected, as though any moment the red around his eyes would give way to the flood of tears he was barely holding back.
All he could do was nod.
“I didn’t realize Veela could be male.” She looked down as she fiddled with the spine of the memo pad on which she was taking notes.
“I’m not sure anyone did,” he shrugged. “Or if anyone else has yet.”
Hermione’s eyes looked up to search his as she joined him in the fight to hold back the hot tears that threatened to spill over her lashes.
———
“Hermione, I am so sorry,” he dropped his head into his hands. “I am so sorry,”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He was silent as she reached for him; the feeling of their skin together set her to rights again.
“Draco, we could’ve done… something.”
———
“Done what, Mione?” his brow furrowed in a frustration that bordered on anger. “What on earth could we have done in the midst of a fucking war that we were poised to lose if anyone found this weakness in us. Imagine how this could’ve been used against us.”
The tears in her eyes took that moment to decide to slide down her cheeks.
“Imagine what they could’ve forced me to do to you if they’d even known I fancied you, let alone known that you were my intended?”
Hermione sniffled as she wrapped her arms around her waist in an attempt to self-soothe. “All this time, I thought it was all a dream. A figment of my imagination.”
“I understand if you hate me,” Draco’s voice broke as he spoke to her, his eyes glued to the floor.
———
“I could never hate you.”
———
“But, I—” he started.
———
“Did everything you could to protect me?”
———
His eyes slowly slid up to her face as he waited for more of her judgment.
———
“Kept our bond a secret to keep it sacred? Kept me physically safe and emotionally comforted? Protected me in every sense of the word?”
———
“Hermione,” he sobbed. “I don’t deserve you, and I never did. I never will.”
Before she could stop herself, she was on her feet and on her way around the table.
“Draco,” she spoke softly before planting a gentle kiss on his temple.
He immediately snapped into action and grabbed her biceps, pulling her into his lap and burying his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply.
———
“FUCK, ‘Mione,” he groaned. “You smell so fucking good.”
“Mmmn,” she hummed. “I want you, Daddy.”
———
“You don’t mean that,” he whispered into her ear. The feeling of his real breath hot on her neck was enough to shove her over the edge of her own sanity. “You’re talking to a figment of your imagination. Not me.”
“Draco,” she cooed, letting her hand gently cup his face. “You’ve rocked me to sleep for years. It’s not been a figment of my imagination. It’s been you. YOU have held me in my bed at night. You’ve dried my tears, you’ve kissed my forehead—my cheeks, my lips, my chest. You’ve loved me. You’ve brought me to orgasm. You’ve owned me, in every sense of the word. I have never wanted anything more than for my daydreams to be a reality.”
Draco looked absolutely dumbstruck.
———
“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.
“Then don’t say anything. Just kiss me.”
———
And so, he did.
Their mouths collided in a beautifully unorchestrated collision that left her straddling him in the office chair, grinding herself against his ever-hardening cock. Their moans were the most beautiful sound Draco had ever heard.
With her mouth locked to his, her mind reached out to continue their conversation.
———
“Holy fuck, Draco. This is so much better than any dream you’ve ever given me.”
“I know, baby.”
“I don’t ever want anything else.”
“I told you,” he chuckled. “I’ve been telling you—you are mine.”
“Yours?” she breathed.
“Mine. Always have been, sweetheart.”
———
“Always will be?” she managed to grunt out between the manic clashing of their tongues.
Draco pulled back and stared deep into her eyes before he replied.
———
“Always will be.”
———