Chapter Text
Hermione Granger sat in the oversized reading chair that she'd thoughtfully placed next to her fireplace so that she had a view of her back garden. The faerie lights she’d put in her little backyard oasis shined in the night, allowing her to see despite the late hour.
She’d tried to go to bed. Honestly, she had, but sleep eluded her.
Tucking one of her curls behind her ear, Hermione pulled the blanket she’d been using tighter around her shoulders to try fending off the late October chill that had crept into her house.
Blasted tears, she furiously swiped her hand across her eyes, wanting to rid herself of the emotions that were boiling inside her. The problem was that she was heartbroken. Five years she’d dedicated to Draco fucking Malfoy, five years ago she’d fallen in love with the wanker, and five years of believing that he was her everything and she was equally everything to him.
Oh, how wrong she'd been.
She’d given up the friends that didn’t support her, being warmly welcomed by those in his circle. When she’d been left without a family from the choices she'd been forced to make in the war, they’d built one together, even if one of those people happened to be her ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott. They'd relied on each other and had been there to lend the support each of them needed at the time.
When his parents had thrown vicious words towards him about his decision to date her, he'd stood up straighter and doubled down on his devotion. He'd stepped down as the COO of Malfoy Enterprise and ignored his mother's invitations to various galas and holidays, all to show how much Hermione meant to him. That he chose her.
It had been a dream come true. Her heart had been whole, and she had finally been happy. All until a month ago. When he’d shattered her.
Taking another sip of her wine, Hermione’s thoughts were dark, and her chest ached at the knowledge of what tomorrow was. She wished not to know the date, but she couldn't very well ignore it when it was on the cover of every magazine and graced the paper's front page.
A dead-end job, no friends, no family, and the love of her life marrying another woman. She looked around the small house she was renting, thinking about her lease for the place and how it was up in just a few more days.
The thought of not renewing it and leaving England came back to her. The thought of starting a new life, where there were no expectations and she could pave her path, sounded more appealing as the fire crackled beside her.
A loud knock pounding against her back door had Hermione splashing some of her wine on the floor as she stood from her seat, pulling her wand from her hair. She pointed it towards the door with a steady hand, silently daring anyone to cross the threshold.
“Granger! Open up! Your floo wouldn’t let me pass!” She heard Draco’s words slurring on the other side.
Hermione didn’t move, however, not wanting to come face to face with the man who’d ripped her heart apart. “Come on, Hermione, it’s cold, and I’m wet!” He yelled again, knocking. “I know you’re awake. Just open the door!”
Still, Hermione didn’t move from her spot, not wanting to see his stupid pale face or the white hair she loved to run her fingers through. Espically not even those damn silver eyes that made her knees weak. No. He could stay out on her porch for all she cared and freeze to death.
“Hermione, I swear, I’ll blast the door down!” He shouted when she still didn't give him a response to his nonsense. The threat, however, made Hermione's snarl deepen at the simple wooden door separating them. He wouldn’t dare…
“I’ll give you the count of three!” He warned, but Hermione held her ground.
“One…” Hermione stared at the door, which was now looking much too flimsy.
“Two…” a subtle glow began to illuminate through the keyhole, and she took in a gulp of air, readying herself for what was to come.
“Three!” The door blew off its hinges, falling inwards, but Hermione was ready. Without a sound, she shot off a string of stinging hexes, aiming for his favorite appendage.
“Don’t act like I don’t know your tricks!” Draco bellowed, stepping through the ruined doorway, a shield charm already in place. “I know everything about you!”
“If you knew everything about me, then you’d know coming here was the most ignorant thing you’ve ever done!” Hermione spat as she continued firing off spell after spell in his direction. Damn him for being an Auror. While she was a Curse Breaker, his skills were far above those of her own, and she hoped that in his inebriated state, she could keep the upper hand to make him regret coming here. “This is a rental, and you’ll pay for that!”
“I’ll buy the bloody house if that makes you happy!”
“The only thing that will make me happy,” Hermione yelled – curving her next hex so that it swung wide and came back towards him – “is if I never see your stupid pointy face again!”
Draco didn’t respond; instead, he saw precisely what she was trying to do and blocked her spell quickly. He dropped his shield, taking on an offensive position, and began to advance. Damn him! He moved with a practiced grace that she’d once upon a time admired, but now it just infuriated her.
“Malfoy!” She yelped when he finally managed to disarm her, following it up by binding her hands behind her. “I swear, I’ll–”
“Do you ever stop shrieking? I just wanted to talk.” Draco stalked forward, tucking his wand into its holster. A holster she'd bought him after he'd graduated from the academy.
"There's nothing for us to talk about, Malfoy," she spat his name, her face turned up into a sneer towards him.
"We do. You broke up with me in a bloody note attached to a box of my things – most of which were broken, by the way." Hermione only shrugged; he should be lucky he'd gotten them back. "And then you barred me from being able to contact you!"
"You're getting married–"
"It's not my choice!"
"It is your choice, Draco! You always have a choice! You can't stand that bint, and yet here you are, doing exactly as your father commanded!"
"You don't understand–"
"No! I don't understand, nor do I want to. I loved you, and you made me believe you also loved me! Instead, you let me find out about your engagement, " Hermione scowled, the words tasting like ash on her tongue, "from a Rita bloody Skeeter article!"
“I didn’t know about the article!” Draco bellowed, stepping closer to her. “My father invited me to lunch, and the paparazzi were waiting. I had no idea any of that was going to come out! Skeeter was waiting for the photos; she already had the article written! I would have come over instead of returning for a private meeting with my father if I'd been aware!”
Hermione’s chest was heaving with laboured breaths as she looked at the man she’d thought would never hurt her. The man who owned a part of her soul and the entirety of her heart. “Regardless, you stayed with your father and her at that lunch.”
“He forced my hand. Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that this isn’t what I want!” Draco was nose to nose with her now, and Hermione could feel her skin tingling at his closeness.
“And what do you need to get through my thick skull?” She seethed, her teeth gritted with her hands bound behind her back. She couldn’t slap him the way she longed to. Hermione eyed his perfectly straight nose and was getting ready to headbutt him when he grabbed her by the throat to stop the assault. As if it were a reflex that she could no longer control, her cunt clenched around nothing, and her knickers were instantly wet.
“That I’m still desperately and madly in love with you, and you little wicked enchantress have ruined me,” Hermione’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open just slightly before Draco’s lips crashed against hers.
A stronger woman than her might have protested against him, but Hermione Granger admittedly was not strong when it came to Draco Malfoy. He managed to get her to prove that time and time again.
“I hate you,” she murmured against his lips, melting into the feeling of him pressed against her.
“I hate me too,” he replied, deepening their kiss, and the world was lost to them. Her restraints disappeared, and Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck, holding him against her. Even if this were just for one more night, she would take it, even though she knew it would destroy her.
She was already wrecked anyway. What was one more night of pleasure to hang onto?
Draco was unhinged, his hand still pressing against her throat, squeezing a bit more, causing Hermione to moan in pleasure. Fuck she’d missed him and the way he demanded her body to respond to him.
He pressed her backward until she was lying on the floor in front of her dying fire, the light low and flickering over the two of them. It would have been romantic had Draco not looked like he would devour her.
He wasn’t careful with his clothes, ripping them from his body and tearing the fine custom shirt he wore in haste. He needed her as much as she needed him. It was apparent they were forever doomed from the start, but their bodies didn’t care.
Seeing the expanse of his pale-scarred chest on full display, Hermione’s trembling hands reached out as she began to track each line she knew so intimately. The ones from Harry, the ones from his deranged aunt, and especially the ones from his father. They stood out against his alabaster complexion, but beyond that was the complex body of a man who refused to be taken advantage of again—a man who refused to be that scared little boy who couldn’t protect himself.
His fingers slid down to her shorts, slipping past the elastic waistband and fingering the slick already pooled there. He growled against her mouth at the feel of her hot center, and Hermione was helpless to allow him to take what he wanted from her body. His thick fingers slipped inside her, stretching her the way that he knew she liked.
His palm pressed against her clit as he moved in and out of her, pumping her full of pleasure that her body sang in joy at receiving. She missed him and was desperate to feel the release only he could give her. She’d tried, in a desperate and drunken attempt, to get over him by sleeping with a handful of men the previous month, but none of them had come close to what Draco could do to her.
“Draco!” Hermione screamed, her back arching off the floor as her climax slammed into her. Her body shook with such force that any thoughts about what was right and wrong fled from her. Any guilt she might have had over doing these things with a man who was set to marry the following day fled from her. She only cared about what she wanted and what he could give her right now.
As her body started to come down from the high that he’d given her, Draco fell back on his heels above her, looking down and studying her still-clothed body. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he told her as he began to pull the buckle of his trousers free. “I’m going to fill that cunt, so you know who it belongs to. I’m going to make sure that you never forget it either,” he promised, and despite how much she hated his words, she squirmed in anticipation.
Once he was free of the confinements of his garments and utterly nude before her, Hermione’s tongue darted out to wet her lips at the sight of him. His body was sculpted perfectly, as the Gods had crafted him. His strong legs from all his years of Quidditch made her weak, and his thick member hard and heavy between his legs was mouth-watering.
“Undress,” he commanded her, and Hermione was so lost in her lust-filled mind that she did precisely that. Wiggling out of her sleep shorts and the soft cotton top, she leaned back on her elbows to allow Draco to take in his fill of her body as well. She wasn’t the only one trying to memorize the other. She realized as she watched his silver eyes soften as his gaze roamed over her nude form.
With a pang in her heart, she knew this would be their last night together. He was going to be married the next day, and there was nothing to be done about it.
Without another word, Draco slotted himself between her thighs and let his cock brush against her core. Hermione held his gaze, wanting to remember his face when he sank into her. The look of pure bliss that overtook him made her soul scream, but Hermione bit it back as he fully seated himself inside her.
They stayed like that, unmoving and just looking into the depths of each other's eyes, their unspoken words and promises that they’d both broken hanging heavy in the air. They weren’t meant to be together, and it was a truth that lurked in the dark corners of her sitting room. A truth that neither of them wished to acknowledge.
When Draco finally began to rock in and out of her, Hermione met each of his thrusts, pushing her hips up. Desperate for what he could give her, she chased her climax, taking from him as he took from her, damn the consequences.
The faster and harder they went, the sound of their skin slapping filled the room, along with their moans and cries. Hermione’s thighs burned with the effort, and her core ached, but she didn’t stop. Her nails dug into Draco’s back, anchoring herself to him and marking him for his bride to see. It was petty, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
“Hermione,” he moaned, and she knew he was close. Hermione doubled her efforts, wanting to feel his warmth spilling inside her just once more, as if holding onto that little bit of him would keep him with her forever.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, her eyes locked on Draco as his face began to screw up. With a shout, Draco pumped himself into her, filling her and pushing his seed deeper toward her womb. Her greedy cunt milked him for everything he was worth, taking everything he had to give that she wanted.
With their bodies spent, Draco and Hermione collapsed into a heap on the floor. Between the alcohol and the incredible shag, Hermione’s body hummed with the release she’d gotten, completely sated. The warmth of Draco’s strong arms wrapping around her paired with the heat from the fire, Hermione pulled the blanket she’d been covered in earlier over them, and together, they fell into a deep sleep.
ooo
The afternoon sun was bright, shining directly into her face, and Hermione groaned at the headache forming. Rolling her body, she sat up, realizing that she wasn’t in her bed but on the hard wooden floor of her sitting room.
When she saw her discarded sleep shirt in a heap near her chair, the memories of the night before flooded back to her.
Draco…
A look at the clock on her mantel said it was half past one in the afternoon, and Hermione leaped from the floor to search the house. It was useless, though, as there was no sign of the man who’d graced her presence the night before. The only evidence was her backdoor, hanging limply off the hinges and broken from where he’d used his spell to blast it open.
An owl pecking on the window of her tiny kitchen drew her attention. She ran to the space that was hardly large enough to stand in, much less cook in, frantic to get whatever the bird delivered. When she let the bird inside, she noticed a rolled-up copy of the morning paper attached to its leg with a note included.
It’d been long since she’d had a subscription to the Prophet, not wanting to support the news that fabricated and spread their narrative to the public. Pulling the paper free, Hermione gave the owl a treat, and it was off, leaving her utterly alone again.
I’m sorry.
The note read it wasn’t signed, but Hermione knew who it was from. Unrolling the paper, Hermione’s sob caught in her throat as she looked at the front page. A stoic-looking Draco stood beside his bride, a binding ceremony happening. The magic visibly wrapped around their wrists was all she needed to see.
He was never going to be hers again.
She dropped the paper to the floor before racing back into the sitting room. Hermione snatched her wand from the floor and began waving it about the house, causing all her worldly possessions to fly into the little beaded bag she still owned. There wasn’t much, but what she did have flew precisely, carefully packing itself away until Hermione stood in an empty house.
Jotting down a quick note to her landlord that she would not renew her lease, Hermione grabbed her bag and headed out. The Goblins wouldn’t care about her not giving a proper notice; they’d never been particularly fond of her anyway.
Hermione took one last look at the paper that sat unmoving on the floor as her hand rested on the doorknob of her house. With that, Hermione left the house, ready to leave the entirety of England behind and start her new life away from the reaches of Draco Malfoy.