Archive of Our Own

Draco trailed behind his mother as she walked through the main areas of the manor. Even though the Dark Lord made Malfoy Manor his headquarters, he still allowed Narcissa to manage the daily maintenance, ensuring the house elves stay up on their duties. But today was different. Morale in the Death Eater camp was low, and the Dark Lord required dedicated and engaged followers. His father Lucius suggested throwing a Halloween soiree, with the Dark Lord as the focus, of course. He was amenable to the idea, and he instructed Narcissa to be the organizer.

Since the manor already had a natural gothic feel to it, very little in the way of decorations were required. Wanting to infuse some charm with a touch of spookiness, Narcissa combined elegance with elements of horror. She transfigured the furniture into dark purples, forest greens, and soft golds. The drapes became delicate spiderwebs, tables legs were turned to bone, and spelled mist danced in the corners of rooms. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout.

Now in the kitchens, Narcissa was directing the elves to put together her Halloween inspired cocktails. Draco peeked at the list over her shoulder.

Vampire’s Desire: Mulled wine

Poisoned Apple: Apple cider spiked with rum

Acromantula Venom: Seasonal old-fashioned made with bourbon, pear syrup, cinnamon stick garnish

Dementor’s Kiss: Pumpkin juice, vodka, brown sugar syrup flavored with ginger and allspice, magicked smoke

Hmm. Draco envisioned a taste of venom in his future.

Draco felt a ripple of magic surge through the air, caressing his skin. Whispers of an ancient tongue tickled his ears, perhaps Latin in nature, though the words were too soft to decipher. He shivered as something settled into his bones, gooseflesh popping up on his arms and legs.

“What was that?” He directed the question at his mother, who was sampling the mulled wine.

“Hmm?” She grimaced, setting the cup back down and shaking her head at the elf. “Needs more sweetness.” Turning back to Draco, she quirked up one corner of her mouth. “Did you say something, Draco?”

“The magic, mother. Did you not feel that?”

She shook her head. “I did not. I asked your father to change the wards for the party this evening. We needed to make sure all the attendees could enter.” She wrinkled her brow, chewing on her lip. “Odd though, that you felt anything. Must be the Malfoy blood in your veins.”

His entire body was tingling, his heart rate was escalated, and he felt warm and slightly flushed. Honestly, if he didn’t know better, he’d think he was high on potions.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” He decided he’d need to speak to his father about this. “Mother, if you’ll excuse me.”

She waved her hand, dismissing him as another elf presented an orange drink with smoke wafting off the top. Must be the Dementor’s Kiss. Nice presentation, at least.

Wanting to calm his nerves before approaching his father, Draco detoured outside. This feeling was so peculiar. He was certain he’d been around when the wards were adjusted in the past, and never had it affected him in this way. Why now? Why this time?

He approached the pond, the water still as glass. There was no wind today to rile up waves, no birds or ducks on the surface. Just calm, serene water. Breathing in deeply, he used the pond as inspiration, pulling on his occlumency training to fight against the change to his baseline. With a measured exhale, he could feel his heart rate decreasing and his anxiety waning. The crisp autumn air soothed his overheated skin, his temperature regulating.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, he stalled a little longer at the pond's edge. He dreaded returning to the manor now that the Dark Lord had taken up residence. Draco was unsure when his feelings began to change concerning Voldemort’s dictates. It’s possible he never truly believed in them. But over the past year, with severe self-reflection, he found he didn’t share the same beliefs as his father surrounding blood supremacy and hatred of Muggle-borns. However, he kept all of that mum, not wanting to alert anyone in the Death Eater realm of his wavering. He knew it would bring shame to his bloodline, and he and his parents would likely be tortured and killed. He'd almost caused their demise when he failed to kill Dumbledore. Thank Salazar for Snape stepping in when he did. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He'd keep his head down and follow orders, keeping up the façade by playing the pureblood prick in public. In private, he'd search for a solution to leave this cult and save his family. 

Unfortunately, thus far he hadn't discovered a way out of their current situation, especially now that they were constantly under the eye of the Dark Lord. The man was insane. His maniacal beliefs were becoming ever less connected with reality. In fact, despite asking his mother to organize this Halloween themed party, the Dark Lord was not allowing anyone to dress up in costume. Everyone was still required to wear their Death Eater robes. And on top of that, he was to be placed on a pedestal. Narcissa had the elves build a throne-like structure to place in the main hall where Voldemort would be seated, on display, above the gathered crowds. He wanted to be worshiped like the king he wasn’t but strived to be. What a fucking nutter.

With one final glance across the enchanting water, head held high, Draco turned on his heel and marched back to the Manor. If he had to be strong for his family, he could do it. 

He found his father in his study, working behind a large, ornate desk. He gently knocked on the door frame to get his attention.

“Father?” Draco asked in a reserved tone “Are you available?”

“Come in, Draco. What do you need?” His father didn’t look up from the reports on his desk.

Entering the room, he stood across from his father on the other side of the desk, arms behind his back. “Did you adjust the wards recently?”

His father shuffled through several pieces of parchment. “Yes, your mother requested I add permissions so we didn’t have to personally invite in each Death Eater when they arrived.”

“Did you do anything with the blood magic?” Draco shifted his weight.

Lucius looked up from his desk, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Draco's nostrils flared. “I felt the magic stir and sink into my body.”

Tilting his head, Lucius studied his son. “Nothing I changed should have caused you to feel anything. Perhaps you’re more sensitive to the manor's magic as the youngest heir.”

Draco nodded, looking towards the window. “Mother thought it might have something to do with my Malfoy blood.”

“I’m certain it’s nothing you need to worry yourself with, Draco.” Lucius looked back down at his work. A clear dismissal.

“Thank you, Father.” Draco stared at him a few more moments but Lucius neither responded nor deigned to look back up at him. He slipped quietly out of the room.

As the current heir, it is possible the magic was partial to him. Most of the wards around the property were ancient, established at the time the property was erected and regularly reinforced. The wards were built on Malfoy blood magic, and as a baby, his own had been added to the cornerstones. New members of the family were added as they were born or married in, and he was the most recent addition.

He concluded the strange feeling wasn’t worth overanalyzing. It was probably nothing. Besides, he felt back to normal at this point. Wanting to avoid his crazy aunt Bellatrix and her evil cronies, he went back to his rooms for the rest of the afternoon. With all the psychotic people milling about, at any possible opportunity, he stayed away. He would find a book and escape into another reality.

—

Draco adjusted his hood around the edges of his Death Eater mask, ensuring his white blonde locks were not visible. They would be too easily identifiable, and he wanted to stay under the radar during the gathering. Some members were choosing to keep their masks off, while others, like him, were staying anonymous. It would make enjoying any food or beverage a little more complicated. But he could always sneak off to a back hallway or back to his rooms to indulge.

While he spent the afternoon lounging on his bed, the bizarre feelings from the morning did not return. He did get an owl from Goyle, who let him know he and his parents weren’t attending tonight. It was likely he wouldn’t have any friends at the festivities and would as such be bored out of his skull. But, it would make it easier to skulk in the corners and people watch, however.

The Dark Lord’s wish to be the center of attention for the party was granted. He was currently lounging with a drink in hand, and Bellatrix was perched on the arm of his chair. It disgusted him that his uncle allowed her to be seen as Voldemort's whore. He understood, though; whatever Voldemort wants, Voldemort gets. Even if it’s another man’s wife.

Glancing about, he viewed his mother's talented work at the décor. She had turned the glum interior into something inviting. It was amost cheerful, in a spooky way. Since his departure to his rooms, she’d added floating candles through every main area of the manor, similar to the ones found in the Hogwarts dining hall. She’d even invited a few of the resident ghosts to float around and haunt people, adding to the effect. The drinks were being served in glasses framed with skeletal hands, and food was presented in dishes that beared a resemblance to the tops of skulls. For all he knew, they may have truly been the skulls of long dead wizards...  Or Muggles.

Draco found his mother holding court in the side hall near the floo parlour. He slipped off his mask momentarily, long enough to kiss her cheek.

“Beautifully done, mother. The place looks perfect, and though I haven’t sampled any yet, I’m sure the drinks and food are exquisite.”

“Thank you, my dragon. Have you given your regards to the Dark Lord yet?” She straightened the front of his robes. “Be sure you do, Draco. Don't forget.”

 “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He tried to rein in the snark, but his mother pinched his ear just the same.

 She spoke in a low voice for only him. “Behave. You know better.” Even though her words were soft, the sentiment was clear and a few chuckles could be heard from the surrounding witches.

At 17, it was embarrassing to be corrected by his mother in public. With shame-stained cheeks, he nodded stiffly and walked into the main hall. He allowed his hood to fall back and kept his mask off, traipsing through the sea of dark robes. His insides lurched when he saw his aunt was now draped across Voldemort’s lap, feeding him bites of food with her bare fingers. Even more disturbing, her husband Rodolphus was holding the plate for her. What a pushover.

Stuffing down his disgust, he sauntered over and planted himself in front of the raised dais. He had his mask dangling from his fingers at his side, displaying as much nonchalance as he could muster. He bowed, bending at the waist, his eyes downcast.

“My Lord.” He straightened, finding Bellatrix and Voldemort staring at him. “You’ve organized a lovely event. In your eternal wisdom, this will certainly bolster our admiration for you and our trust in each other as a movement.”  

“Thank you, my boy. My Draco.” The Dark Lord made a face at him that was clearly an attempt at a smile, but with his grotesque features came across as a grimace. “I have big plans for you.”

Bellatrix cackled, her eyes glittering in the candlelight. "He's still young, my Lord. Pliable. Moldable." 

Revulsion. 

Hiding his discontent, and with great effort, he smiled up at the man on the throne. "I will be whatever you need."

All at once, a warmth spread through his body, radiating out from his core. His fingertips began to tingle, and his cock stirred in his pants. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. This was not a reaction to this conversation, it couldn't be. Possibly the manor's magic? But it most definitely came on at a very inopportune time. He quickly bowed again, to hide his flushed face.

“Thank you, My Lord. I look forward to your further instructions. If you will excuse me.”

Without coming back to his full height, he darted out of sight into the crowd. He shoved his mask into place, pulling his hood up to drape over the edges. He hurried from the hall, and quickly made his way outside to the border of the gardens. Eyes darting around, he ensured he was alone before ripping the mask back off. This was similar to the feeling of the ward magic washing over him earlier today, though much more intense. He again felt overheated, and the tingling had moved up both of his arms and into his feet and legs. His cock was quickly coming to attention, which was a new sensation. With his heart rate increasing, his breaths were becoming labored and shallow. He hadn’t been turned on this rapidly in… Well, ever. He didn't have a clue what could be causing it. 

As a measure of protection for the evening, his father put up an anti-apparition ward, so he couldn’t easily escape up to his rooms without walking back through the mass of people. He tiptoed around to a side entrance of the manor and let himself into a back hallway. This area was off limits to the party, and there were several rooms along this wing that had been used previously as guest rooms. Opening the door to one, he cast a Lumos on the sconces along the walls. The room was empty and a little stuffy from being shut up, but it would serve his purpose.

Quickly shrugging out of his robes, he dropped his trousers where he stood and took himself in hand. He hissed at the contact, and immediately several drops of precum dripped out onto the floor. He leaned over and spat in his hand, and he began to work himself roughly. Fuck, it felt amazing. His hand was so tingly, the sensation almost felt like a phantom was wanking him off. Looking down, he imagined soft skin and trimmed nails wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, and in his mind his gaze rose, taking in freckled cheeks, chestnut brown eyes, and wild sun-kissed curls. She bit her lip and moaned, the sound echoing through his mind. He came so hard he had to grab ahold of the four-poster bed to keep from face planting onto the rug.

With his chest heaving out strangled breaths, his psyche was working overtime. Did he really just get off imagining Hermione Granger giving him a hand job? While he could admit she was objectively attractive, beautiful even, and he genuinely did not hold a prejudice against her blood status, his thoughts had never roamed to her before. Not in a sensual way, anyways. He wasn’t sure where that came from.

Pulling his wand from inside his robes, he scourgified himself and slipped his trousers back on. But in less than a minute, he could feel his cock coming to life once again. What the fuck was this magic doing to him? He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, placing his head in his hands. It had to be some sort of sexual-based magic to be causing frequent erections. A bonding spell, perhaps? He wondered if anyone else was affected down at the party. Shuddering at the thought, he decided he had no interest in returning to a potential orgy amongst the Death Eater crew.

Sighing, he unzipped his trousers yet again, pulling himself out. He was already rock hard and leaking. Laying back on the bed, he let his eyes drift shut, and he slowly stroked himself. He tried to imagine Pansy, who he supposed he was dating, though they’ve never made it official. She’s the only witch he’d ever slept with. But for some reason his mind couldn’t bring her face forward. Next, he tried to focus on Astoria, the witch his parents had betrothed him to at a young age. He wasn’t sure if they would uphold the marriage requirement, but if so, he would eventually need to create an heir with her. He might as well try wanking to her now. Unfortunately, her face was also mysteriously absent from his subconscious.

He gave up trying to guide his desires and let his mind wander. Hermione’s face floated up from the depths, this time with want burning in her eyes. He imagined her dropping to her knees and grasping him in both hands. With her tongue flicking over his tip, she slowly pumped him, teasing him into a dripping mess. Her painted lips circled the head of his cock, and slid all the way down to his base while her eyes remained latched to his.

That’s all it took for him to explode a second time.

Quickly cleaning himself up, he righted his clothing. He had to get out of here. Not knowing how long the wards would affect him, he wanted to be in the privacy of his own space to take care of business as often as necessary. And he needed to get back to his rooms before his cock hardened again, potential Death Eater fuck fest be damned. He raced out of the room. But when he entered the dimly lit hallway, a person stood with their back to him, blocking his path.

“Who goes there?” His voice was deeper, more hoarse than usual.

They spun around to face him, mask and hood in place. He heard a gasp, their hand flying to cover where their mouth would be.

“Malfoy?”

He knew that voice. Had been hearing it nearly every day for the past 6 years. And he’d just imagined that mouth sucking him off.

“Granger?”

She squeaked, turning to run away from him. But he was too fast, and he cast a quick immobulus charm, hitting her square in the back. Sprinting, he caught her before she could fall forward. The second she was in his arms, his cock engorged in a flash, precum instantly wetting his pants.

Fucking Salazar!

His erection rubbed along the side of her thigh as he pulled her back into the bedroom he’d just retreated from. He slammed the door shut with his foot and cast wandless locking and silencing charms. Lifting her onto the bed, he removed her mask to verify it truly was her.

It was Hermione alright. Her ringlets peeked out from under the hood, framing her face. Her olive skin was covered in freckles, nearly hidden by the pink in her cheeks, and he had a sudden urge to count them. Shaking his head, he resisted and continued his slow perusal of her. Big brown eyes looked back at him in shock, set above plump lips that were asking to be kissed. He wondered how they tasted, if they would be soft against his. They were parted slightly, fast breaths ghosting over his own lips. 

Wait… when did he move so close?

He jerked back fast, as if burned. His heart was beating so hard, so fast, he was nearly dizzy. This was lunacy. He needed to calm down.

“I’m going to release you. I swear, Granger, I’m not going to hurt you. Please refrain from hexing me.” He raised his wand, then paused, thinking better of it. “Actually, let me make certain.” He rummaged around in her robes, finally finding her wand tucked under her jumper in a holster against her skin. When his fingers brushed along her abdomen, his entire body’s nerve endings lit up, and he let out a strangled cry. His cock was now so hard, he was in pain from the pressure against his trousers.

Tucking her wand in the back of his waistband, he fell back on the bed next to her with a groan.

Eyes shut, he flicked his wand in her direction. “Finite Incantatem.”

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” The bed shifted and her weight was suddenly over top of him. He hissed at the contact, her legs falling to either side, her hands grasping his shoulders.

“Where’s my wa… m-my…. Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Something was rubbing along his stomach, and he suspected that something was Hermione sodding Granger’s center. Just the thought had his cock throbbing. He cracked one eye open and a pulse of yearning shot through him at the sight above. Hermione was indeed dragging herself back and forth along his abs. Her own eyes were squeezed shut, her cheeks flushed, and she was sucking on her lower lip. One small hand was massaging a breast over her jumper. Her hair was swaying with her movements, large and out of control.

Draco arched his back, sliding her down to make contact with his erection. They both groaned, and she ground herself over him, calling his name.

“Malfoy, oh Godric!” Panting, she opened her eyes, hazy with want. “What is happening? What did you do?”

He thrust up, unable to control himself, his hands holding her hips in place. They both cried out in unison. His mind was screaming at him to rip off her clothes and sink into her. Rut into her. Come so deep inside her his spend might never leave her body,

“This isn’t my doing, Granger, but trust me, I’m affected too.” He was hot all over, every inch of his body felt as if someone was holding a flame to it. “And I’m fairly certain if you don’t kiss me right now, we both might die.”

He heard a whispered “thank Merlin” a split second before her lips crashed down onto his. Swiping his tongue into her mouth, one hand moved to grip her hair, fingers tangling in soft curls.

Fuck, she tasted incredible. Like sweet honey and berries, and also something entirely her. Yanking her head sideways, he angled to lick in deeper. Their teeth clacked together, but Hermione seemed not to care. Her hands were running through his hair and around his jaw over and over as she rocked her center against him.

They had entirely too many clothes on. "Granger." His hand pulled at the edge of her jumper. 

She understood, leaning back to rip it off with one smooth pull, her robes falling with it. She was left in only a plain white cotton bra; So completely her, it was devastatingly cute and innocent. Collapsing back on top of him, her lips trailed down his neck, soft kisses leading to his ear. Draco reached behind her, unclasping her bra.

She licked the shell of his ear, her words driving straight to his core. “I need your clothes gone too, Malfoy. I want you inside me.”

Breathing through a groan, more precum spilled from his cock. This witch. Who knew she was so forward?

“Then hold on, Granger.”

“Wha- oh!”

Wrapping his arms tight around her, he flipped them over. He sat back on his heels, tearing his shirt over his head as she flung her bra across the room.

Sweet Salazar, those fucking tits. Each one was the perfect size, a handful, and tipped in pert, coral-pink nipples. They pointed up at him, begging for his mouth. He obliged, teeth and lips closing around one in a tight embrace. As he sucked, he rutted against the bed, seeking friction. Her thighs squeezed around his middle and her fingers scratched over his scalp, and it was driving him mad.

“Malfoy!” Arching into his mouth, she cried out. “You have 30 seconds to enter my cunt before I kick you off and finish myself.”

Well, he couldn’t have that.

He shimmied to the end of the bed, stepping out of his trousers in record time. Her fingers fumbled at her zipper, and he replaced them with his own, expertly unzipping, then ripping her bottoms down, taking her knickers with. Of course they were white, cotton, full-bottomed knickers. Gods, that was hotter than if they’d been lace for some fucking reason.

Diving back into the bed, he crawled up between her naked legs. Hands anchored on her upper thighs, he parted her center with his tongue, diving deep into her entrance. She screamed, thighs boxing in his ears, and her hands again found his hair. She was soaked, dripping onto the mattress. Salty and musky, he drank her juices down, licking up to her clit and back down to her entrance. He hummed into her as he nibbled and sucked hungrily. If she was the ocean, then he wanted to drown in her. He could spend the rest of his days on his belly, his tongue in this delicious cunt, and die a happy man.

She writhed against his face, gasping and panting, pulling on his silky strands so hard, he was afraid he might find bald spots afterwards.

Worth it.

Reluctantly, he lifted his head, sloppily kissing up her belly, his fingers circling her clit. He was relishing in the feeling of her abdominals clenching under his mouth, and her thighs quivering around him. But he’d also reached his breaking point. If he didn’t fuck her right this very second, his cock might actually fall off. He continued his upward trajectory, licking up her sternum and finding the crook of her neck. As he lightly sucked, he positioned the head of his cock at her entrance.  

With more restraint than he thought possible, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. He was met with the same hunger and desire reflected in his own.

“Are you absolutely sure, Granger?”

“Please, Malfoy, stop stalling!”

“Say it, Granger!”

“Yes, Malfoy! Merlin, yes, fuck me!”

Shivering, he rejoiced in relief, whimpering involuntarily at her words. In one hard thrust, he plunged in, all the way to the hilt. Their synchronized moans could’ve woken the dead. He stayed there, pushed deep, cock pulsing in her heat. She was stretched tightly around him, a feeling so euphoric he nearly combusted on the spot. 

His mind screamed at him; move, damn it, time to move. 

He slid halfway out and plunged back in, letting out a satisfied grunt. Her legs wrapped around him, ankles crossing at his lower back.

“Godric, Draco, please, I need you deeper!”

At hearing his given name on her tongue, all his resolve fell apart. With a feral cry, he pounded into her, unrestrained lust his driving force. He could barely feel anything except her cunt around him. He pressed his forehead into hers, tilting so he could watch his cock moving in and out. He was dimly aware she was digging her nails into his back, and her mouth was spilling out a stream of nonsensical words and cries.

Her cunt fluttered around him as her legs began to shake.

“I’m coming, oh fuck, Draco, I’m coming!”

As her cunt clenched around him with her release, he came undone. He shoved into her with one final piercing drive, crying out her name as his seed pulsed out of him in waves. Stars burst across his vision as his body shook violently. Never in his short life had an orgasm felt this… right, this exhilarating, or overwhelming.

He collapsed on top of her, kissing her hair, her sweaty temple, her button nose.

“Hermione, gods, that was…” He trailed off, unable to find the correct words.

She ran her fingers along his spine, tracing over each vertebra. “Exactly my thoughts.” She giggled, the sound like sweet music to his ears.

Sliding off of her, he kissed over her shoulder before shifting to his back. 

Without the fog of passion, his mind raced. He had so many questions.

“How are you here?”

Hermione propped herself onto her side, one hand in her hair to hold up her head.

“I don’t know if I can tell you the truth about that.” One finger traced along the sharp lines of his jaw. “But something tells me I can trust you. It’s odd. 15 minutes ago, I would have vehemently disagreed.”

Draco grabbed her hand, kissing each fingertip in turn. “Honestly? Same. I think it has to do with the manor's magic.”

“What about the manor's magic?”

Entwining their fingers, he dropped their paired hands to his chest. “My father adjusted the wards today, for the party.” He spared a glance her way. “I’m assuming you knew that, somehow, and used that to sneak in.”

Her stoic features and silence were answer enough.

“So, there’s a mole in the Death Eaters.” Hermione tried to pull her hand back, but Draco held firm. “I’m happy about that.”

“You’re… what?”

Draco turned on his side to face her. “Look, I’ve been a right git, but I don’t actually believe the blood supremacy bullshit. I’ve just been… falling into my expected role and following orders. Truthfully, the Dark Lord is losing his grip on reality and I want nothing more than for this rebellion to end. In my free time, I spend my hours trying to find a way out for my family.”

He grazed his thumb over her knuckles, their eyes still lost in each other.

“It’s your fault, to be truthful. You broke every rule I was told about Muggle-borns. You’re smart, witty, strong, beautiful,” he kissed her hand again, eliciting a deep blush from her, “and today I’ve discovered, quite delicious.” He licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed, a joyous sound. Merlin, he wanted to hear that laugh every day.

Why the fuck was he so obsessed with her? The manor's magic? Was that what prevented any thoughts of other witches when he was alone?

“I have to ask, Hermione… What were you thinking about before I came upon you in the hall?”

Her crimson cheeks darkened further. “I, um, was thinking of you.”

“Me? What about me?” Depending on her response, his suspicions would be confirmed.

“Well, for clarity, I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you naked and riding you until you came inside me. I was quite randy, from the very moment I arrived on the grounds.”

Well, fuck. His cock twitched at that answer.

He took in a long inhale, unsure how to reveal what he’d figured out.

“I think you’ve been… chosen for me.”

“Excuse me?” A flash of anger gleamed in her eyes. “Chosen for you? Like I’m a bloody gift?”

Biting his lip, he weighed his next few words carefully. He knew she would be upset. “The manor, it... When my father changed the wards, I think he accidentally triggered an ancient spell. It was designed during times of famine and shorter lifespans to help select a… a perfect match. A mate. For… breeding. To create the strongest heir.”

“WHAT?” She tried to scoot away from him, but he threw his arms around her. Pulling her against his chest.

“Please don’t panic! It doesn’t mean anything.” Her struggling was causing his cock to grow, and he internally sighed, knowing an erection was the last thing this current conversation needed.

“It means Malfoy Manor essentially drugged us into having sex to try to produce the newest heir!”

“Would that be so bad?” Draco yelled, causing Hermione to freeze. In a softer voice, he said. “Think about it. A Muggle-born and a pureblood baby. Part Malfoy, one of the Sacred 28, and part you, the most impressive Muggle-born in the wizarding world.”

Maybe he was mad, but he liked the idea. A flash of her with a swollen, pregnant belly had his cock hardening. 

Exasperated, she wriggled in his arms. “We’re teenagers, Malfoy!”

“This war stole our childhoods, anyways. We’re nothing but soldiers now. If our union, our child could be a fix, could help end this nonsensical war, don’t you think we should let the manor guide us?”

“You’re bonkers, you know that?”

“I’m also fairly certain the manor will keep forcing us to fuck until either the wards are reversed or I get you pregnant.” His full erection between them rubbed against her stomach, and she moaned in spite of her arguments.

“It was the best sex of my life.” She placed the palm of her free hand against his chest.

Leaning close to her ear, he dropped his voice an octave. “Granger, that was barely anything.” She shivered, her hand drifting down to wrap around his cock.

“I guess we could keep going tonight. It’s clear we can’t fight the magic.”

Draco nipped her earlobe. “What are you saying, Granger?”

She slowly pumped him, rubbing her thumb over the tip of his cock. “You are unhappy with Voldemort and the Death Eater rebellion, yes?”

Why was she asking about that with her hand on his cock? “Yes, I mentioned that.”

“Would you consider being a spy for the Order?” She slid her body down the bed, tongue flicking out to lick his tip.

He answered in a strained voice. "I would agree to anything in this moment, if you would put my cock in your mouth.”

“I’m being serious, Draco.”

“So am I, Hermione.”

Chuckling, she licked her lips, watching his facial expressions as she squeezed his base. “I’m agreeing to allow you to fuck me, potentially creating the next Malfoy heir with my blood and yours, if you agree to be my spy, to help defeat Voldemort from the inside.”

Chest heaving, his hands threaded through her curls. “Done.”

“Perfect. Welcome to the Order, Draco Malfoy.” And she stretched her mouth over him, taking him all the way down her throat.