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"Bloody hell, Granger! How hard is it to secure one strap!" Draco bellowed as the magically charged air whipped around them, his usually white, blonde locks had gone silver and stuck damply to his sweat-soaked skin.
"Maybe if you hadn't been running your mouth for the umpteenth time, I wouldn't have been distracted!" Hermione grunted as she yanked the yellow strap meant to secure the storm analytic machine to the ground. The roughness of the braided material was slick from the rain, but she finally managed to secure it in place with a final forceful tug.
“Get your arse back in the truck!” Draco growled, pointing his wand at the machine. He started the incantations that would track the magical signatures at the storm's peak.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Malfoy,” Hermione grunted as she double checked to make sure the machine was secure. She didn’t want another incident where it flew away, and she and Draco blamed each other for weeks about whose fault it was.
“I swear to Merlin and Morgana if you don’t get your tight arse back in the truck, I am going to take you over my knee and smile as I blister your backside, witch.”
“Promises, promises,” Hermione sang, her normally bouncy curls dripped with magically charged rain that made her skin tingle, as she checked the last security belt.
One moment, her feet were planted firmly on the ground as she looked to the sky, watching smoky clouds flash with rivulets of purple, green, and blue. Thunder rumbled like a herd of erumpents, sounding like the crashing of boulders down a mountain as they moved. The next moment, she felt a pair of strong hands band grip her waist and throw her bodily over a shoulder woven with muscle.
“Put me down!” Hermione grunted as she smacked wherever her hands could reach. “Why do you always have to be such an ogre?”
The truth was, she didn’t mind his meat-headedness so much. She would outwardly complain because, well, she refused to admit that she liked the way he manhandled her. Even now, she called him names and beat her fists against his backside, but she was actually admiring the way his body moved, how his muscles danced beneath his soaked white t-shirt. How she knew the weight of her felt like nothing to him.
She’d witnessed him lift the Magical Atmosphere Marker, or MAM for short, without the help of his wand. The thing had to weigh as much as he did, if not more. She’d nearly ruined her panties on more than one occasion just watching him work. It didn’t help that she knew exactly what he could do with those hands, those fucking thighs with a fine dusting of blonde hair. She could go on for days about all of the things she’d memorized about his body. Unfortunately for her, none of these memories had ended in sex. Oral or otherwise. She’d obsessively watched the way he handled their equipment, moving with liquid grace. Confident twists and turns of his fingers, even with the smallest of pieces. She’d nearly fainted from holding her breath when she’d watched him screw on a bolt. Did he have to do it so seductively, though? That was the first sign of many that she needed to get laid.
“The only place I’ll be putting you is over my knee once we get back to the truck.” Draco huffed as the wind whipped harder around them, cold drops of rain pelting them as it came in sideways.
Joke's on you, Hermione thought, her thighs clenching at the prospect of his hand reddening her backside. That isn’t the threat you think it is. Both hope and resigned disappointment swirled in her belly. She knew these threats were empty, but she wished they weren’t.
Through the stride of Draco’s legs, she caught a glimpse of the mud-splattered crimson truck that was their home more often than not. It had been magically expanded to hold a full-size bed, a small kitchen, and an even smaller sitting area where they’d put in endless hours on their research.
A step popped out on his approach, and the sound of a door creaking open met her ears, before he was hoisting her into the truck and navigating past the driver's seat. A yelp escaped her lips as her blood rushed back to the places it belonged, and she was tossed onto the mattress with an undignified bounce.
She wasn’t down for long, though, with a sputter, she dislodged the errant curl that had found its way into her mouth as she stood and began poking Draco in the chest. “Just who do you think you are? You gargantuan, meat-headed, imbecilic, egotistical, man.” She added as much of a shove as she could muster, disappointment stinging as he moved not an inch. Just stood there with his arms crossed, breaths coming in heavily as his chest rose and fell while he looked down his nose at hers, silver eyes hard as steel.
“Are you done?” he asked, his voice seemingly indifferent.
Hermione knew, though, she’d been pressing his buttons for months in an attempt to get him to crack. For the unobservant eye, you’d think the slight pinkening of his cheeks was from their efforts outside. But she knew this was anger just beneath the surface. His eyes traced over her, looking for signs of injury, pausing for a fraction of a second at the way her own white t-shirt, now soaked, clung desperately to her braless chest. She’d of course done that on purpose.
“No punishment? All talk and no action, big boy,” Hermione goaded him, desperate to break through his iron-clad resolve. Reason hadn’t worked on him, so she’d decided she would break him through temptation instead.
He stepped forward, closing the last bit of distance between them, the scratch of his five o’clock shadow tickled against her cheek as his lips brushed against her ear. “Is that what you want? Why do you refuse to listen to me?” The warmth of his breath sent goosebumps bursting across her skin; her nipples, already tight from the cold, ached painfully for his touch. “I bet you have already imagined how I’d do it. Rip those tiny things you call panties over that plump arse.” He released a slow breath that matched the heat burning at her core.
His hand came up to rest on her hip, his thumb tracing small circles over the sliver of skin where her shirt had ridden up as he’d carried her. “Mmhmm, Granger, I know you’ve imagined the way you’d fit perfectly in my palm. So soft. I’d feel the way that sweet little cunt wept for my touch, getting my fingers all wet before I’d even stretched you. Then, I’d finally let you have your punishment.”
Hermione quivered where she stood, her breath coming in little gasps, her lips parted just slightly on a rush of heat that surged from her core and shot straight to her brain, leaving her a lust-induced mess that could hardly string two thoughts together.
“Punishment?” she managed to croak out, all of the saliva drying in her mouth, leaving her tongue feeling like worn-down sandpaper.
Yes, yes, yes, IT’S HAPPENING, her pussy clenched hungrily around nothing as her thoughts caught up with her and she internally rejoiced.
“Do you know what would make this even better? What I could do to really make it sting?” Draco asked on a deep hum that sounded like sex wrapped in pale skin, blonde hair, and silver eyes designed by Merlin to make women’s cunts weep.
Hermione shook her head in denial, her stomach contracting as she felt the flex of his jaw against her cheek.
He chuckled softly before his tongue poked out and wet his lips. She felt the ghost of it along her skin and regretted not leaning toward him to catch the movement. “Nothing.”
Her brain faltered; she heard the word but couldn’t compute what it meant. “Huh?” she eloquently spoke to life, the only word she could muster up. This, in itself, once her brain had caught up, pissed her off more than the rejection he’d just flung her way.
As she’d made the very conscious decision to let her temper win out, she truck lurched violently to the side, throwing her against the man she currently wanted to both fuck and maim. Potentially both at the same time. It really depended on how quickly her anger fizzled out. Or more accurately, how skilled he was at fucking her into contentment.
Draco caught her as she fell forward, the warmth from his hands seeped through the cold dampness of her shirt, warming the goose-pebbled skin along her hips. The only sign that the feel of her in his embrace affected him was a slight dilation of his pupils and a minute flaring of his nostrils.
“I think you can manage to get changed without my direction,” he barked as he dropped his hands and turned away sharply.
She counted it as a small victory as he retreated and she caught sight of the unmistakable flex of his hand. “Stubborn arse,” Hermione cursed as she ripped the wet shirt over her head and tossed it into the hamper under the bed.
The truck started with a familiar rumble, and Dean Thomas’s voice carried over the speakers.
“If you’re anywhere near Falmouth, you’ll want to take cover. There’s a nasty storm brewing of the magical sort.” He released a low whistle. “I just received word that this bugger has grown to a category five, folks. We’re talking magical maladies of the unknown sort. Irreparable damage to homes and the environment. Memory loss to the Lockhart degree.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed as she pulled a fresh white cotton shirt over her head and wiggled out of damp jeans. As she turned her head to the side to locate another set of pants, a pair of silver eyes caught her attention as they tracked her movements in the rear-view mirror.
Her lips upturned in the corner in a sly smile as she turned around so her backside was decorated with a sliver of a black thong, faced the mirror.
Let him watch. She thought to herself as she bent over, arching her back slightly as she summoned the dark blue fabric from beneath the bed with a bit of wandless magic. She would have enjoyed the sound of a growl of frustration if not for Dean’s voice interrupting the peep show.
“Now, I’ve also got word that we’ve got boots on the ground now. None other than our favorite reformed Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, and renowned Golden Girl, Hermione Granger. Who’d have thought that those two would make a good team? Not me! I’d be willing to bet most of the wizarding world would agree with that.”
Hermione grumbled, hating both the Golden Girl moniker and that the world insisted on cramming their opinion about her and Draco down their throats. She knew it was at least part of the reason he kept refusing to admit that something genuine had grown between them.
“But professionally, they surprised us all. The two have conquered more storms than Ronald Weasley has wizards, and that’s saying something with how the former Gryffindor turned war hero gets around.”
She rolled her eyes at that one but still chuckled. Ron had gotten around, but she didn’t fault him for it. He was young, handsome, unattached, and discovering his sexuality. If only her own preferences didn’t lean toward tall, blonde prats with more stubbornness than sense, she might be expanding her own sexual horizons rather than pleasuring herself to the idea of what they could do together.
Yes, she could move on. Find someone who was a more willing participant, but she knew what was there. She just needed to get Draco to admit it. She pulled on a fresh pair of socks, contemplating her next move, when the truck lurched violently again.
“Was I wrong in my assumption that you could handle dressing yourself, or does Daddy need to come back and assist?”
Hermione's cheeks burned, and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was more turned on or pissed off. Given ample time to analyze the potential of that kink, she was certain that, in the right scenario, it could work for her. But Draco was not being sexy, he was being an arse. Running hot and cold because she’d gotten him fired up, and he didn’t know what to do with that heat except aim it at her in the most infuriating way.
“Malfoy, if I thought that remark would actually lead anywhere, I might pursue it. But, we both know at this point, you're all talk and no action. So, why don’t you stick to something you can carry through on and drive the damn truck?” Hermione snipped, still feeling a bit of heat in her cheeks as she grabbed the control panel for the MAM and secured herself by clipping in the harness.
“Don’t go there again, Granger,” Draco spoke quietly after a moment of silence, his eyes trained on the storm brewing outside as he white-knuckled the steering wheel.
She swallowed the response that sat ready on the tip of her tongue and flicked a multitude of switches on the control board. The beacon situated in the bed of the truck released a low hum that vibrated through the truck, the sound a Draco’s signal to begin driving.
“Thirty degrees west,” Hermione directed.
“Toxicity?” Draco asked, all business as he watched the storm developing outside.
“Six and climbing,” she reported, not liking the readings that were rapidly changing. “It’s heading north. Draco, we can’t let it touch down in the Bay.” Hermione urged. The electric clouds began to form a swirling cyclone over the body of water beyond the cliffs ahead of them.
“We’re going to have to use the brooms,” Draco ground out as he slammed on the brakes and threw the truck in park before hurriedly jumping out.
Hermione quickly followed. The fluttering low in her belly reminded her how much she hated flying, but she knew it was necessary now. She buried the feeling under sheer determination as she grabbed her own broom off its mount on the side of the truck.
“Granger, you know the rules. Stay close, no risky moves, and for Merlin's sake, stay on your broom.” Any remaining irritation with her had bled away to reveal genuine concern as Draco moved toward her from his side of the vehicle, his Thunderbolt in hand, all darkness and sleek lines.
“I know, Draco.” She reassured him as she bent to attach the panel to the front of her broom before standing to face him.
“Hermione, I’m serious.” He stepped closer, his jaw tight with tension as he looked down at her.
He rarely used her first name, stating he preferred the use of her surname and shut down any further attempts to dig out the real answer from there. The way it warmed her from within, made her heart do a little skip when he faltered in his steely resolve, were moments she coveted.
"I'll be careful if you will," she quipped before hopping on her broom and taking to the sky, leaving him to catch up.
Every storm had similarities; it's how they had learned to track them, to try and tame them, and work toward ridding the wizarding world of them altogether. But they also had their differences. This one had already proven it was going to be trouble. Hermione watched as Draco hovered just below her, the MAM's beacon now attached to his broom. It worked like a beacon; the dark magic was drawn to the signal it released, so they could try to control where the storms' impact would focus.
"East side!" Draco yelled.
Hermione's head whipped to the side where he had pointed. Just above them in the sky, the air had begun to swirl, droplets of rain gathering in the growing vortex as it spiraled downward toward the ground like a funnel. Hermione switched on the beacon with a flick of a switch on the panel. The tornado seemed to rumble in displeasure as it vibrated and began to move toward Draco.
His broom moved in quick, precise movements that reflected Draco's flying skill and his ability to monitor the storm and keep himself upright. Hermione constantly found herself both impressed and turned on by both of these things. She watched with bated breath as he guided the tornado towards the MAM, her fingers ready at the switch to release the storm orbs that would hopefully absorb the dark magic charging the storm and end things before they truly got started.
Unfortunately for Hermione, she was not as adept at both flying and watching the cyclone's movement while staying upright. The thing seemed to take its anger out on her as it whipped in her direction, trapping Hermione in its grasp. Panic zipped up her spine as she was tossed bodily from her broom and whipped around within its swirling center.
Surely Draco had guided the tornado over water because the next thing she knew, she was being tossed bodily into the bay, crashing through the water's surface and into its murky depths. She breathed in a mouthful of water, sputtering as she tried to expel it but taking in more liquid in the process. Her hands clawed toward the surface, but the storm overhead had made the waves impossible to fight through in her current state.
Spots filled her vision as she sank lower into the cold depths before darkness clouded her vision, and she gave in to the voice telling her to stop fighting. The last thing she felt was a pair of arms banding around her middle, so warm and secure.
The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was swirling darkness. The next thing she saw was Draco. He looked down at her, his silver eyes lined with tension as he watched her breath. "I thought I was too late. That you were dead because I couldn't get to you fast enough." His shoulders shook on a shudder. "You can't- you aren't allowed to die, Granger." His eyes bore into hers, silently begging for something Hermione wasn't sure.
"Can I? Just once- I need to know." Draco continued hesitantly.
Hermione tracked his movements, watching the way he leaned toward her slowly, his eyes tracing her lips before he let them ghost against her cheek. A soft gasp left him before his lips brushed softly against the corner of her mouth, a barely there touch that stoked the cold embers in her core. Every careful placement of his lips against her skin was like a whispered prayer. Draco was pouring his most hidden desires into every touch, and it breathed life into her.
Action wasn’t yet an option; she refused to break whatever spell had been cast over them in fear that he would shut down again, lock her out for good this time. Was it wrong to take advantage of his obvious emotional distress? Probably. But if that’s what it took for him to realize what had been growing between them, then so be it.
She let Draco explore, relishing the way her skin pebbled and warmed as he kissed along her jaw, the fine hairs along his cheek scraping her skin in the most delicious way, in perfect contrast to the softness of his lips.
He trailed his nose along the column of her neck to the crook of her shoulder, where he breathed in the scent of her curls before releasing a throaty hum, his hand trailing from her shoulder, down her side until her hip was held in his firm grasp. “I’m done fighting you. Fighting us.”
His silver eyes shone like liquid star dust, haunting with an intensity that conveyed promises of forever as he lifted his head to look down upon her. The ache in his voice reflected just how much the self-imposed walls around his heart had been hurting him.
“Finally,” Hermione breathed on a sigh laden with a feeling that could only come from being settled within oneself after feeling adrift for so long.
Draco sank into her. Covering her with the length of his body as he shifted so his hips settled between her open thighs. The first thing she noticed wasn't the hard length of him, though it did demand its own sort of attention. No, she noticed how well they fit together. Every curve of their bodies lined up like they’d been designed by the gods with the other in mind.
Draco’s hands traced along her arms, sending bursts of pleasure across the landscape of her body, his long fingers wrapping securely around her wrists until she was pinned down by his will and the weight of him.
“Please,” Hermione whimpered, Draco’s forehead resting against the flushed skin of her neck as she arched against him.
“Hermione,” Draco groaned low, his hips thrusting upward on a slow grind so the hard length of him dragged against her core in the most exquisite agony that left her on the edge of begging for more. “Is this what you needed? What you’ve been trying to get me to see?”
“Yes,” Hermione whimpered as her clit throbbed with untapped desire.
“I see it, darling. I feel it.” Draco murmured breathlessly as he took the lobe of her ear between his teeth and pulled back, scraping the sensitive flesh before doing the same thing in a line down her neck until she was left with a necklace of red marks.
Everything outside of their bubble beneath the Bay’s current grew hazy. The cold from the tons of water raging around them couldn’t penetrate the warmth of the shelter of Draco’s body. The darkness hiding unknown monsters was nothing compared to the emptiness she’d feel if Draco were to walk away in this moment. Now that she’d tasted him, she knew she’d never have enough. She’d crave his touch, the feel of his heart racing against hers, the sound of his breathing for the rest of her days.
With one intentional thought, Hermione vanished their clothing, so on the next upward glide of his hips, the tip of his cock notched against the slick mess that was her core.
“Fuck,” Draco released a shuddering breath as a broken whimper broke past Hermione’s lips, and she wiggled her hips and locked her ankles around his back in an attempt to bring him home.
Draco repeated the word over and over. The further his cock was enveloped by her heat, the more desperate his curses became. His forehead rested against hers, both damp with sweat and panting with need, their chests seesawing on every breath as if they followed the beat of the other's heart.
“Draco!” Hermione cried as he sank in to the hilt.
Draco’s arms wrapped around her, gathered her as close as humanly possible, so not even secrets remained between them. She felt like she was in a cocoon fashioned from her deepest desires of the man ripping every last ounce of pleasure from her body.
Muscles danced beneath the layers of his scarred skin as he ground into her. Broken sobs and tear-filled kisses. She couldn’t tell where his pain began, and her pleasure ended. It was a cathartic release of pent-up sexual desires and a purging of lonely nights their bodies wouldn’t have to live through any longer.
The climax in its intensity was wholly unexpected. It burst forth like a supernova. Unfurling from her core, ripping a jagged scream from her throat as Draco stretched her walls over and over, dragging out her pleasure with every upward thrust of his cock.
It may have been a moment, it could have been seconds, she couldn’t tell you, but as she floated in utter bliss, Draco followed her over the edge, his groans of ecstasy as he pulsed into her, nearly sent her spiraling toward a second orgasm.
They lay in the quiet that followed a life-changing emotional experience. Their breaths slowly calmed as time passed until Draco rolled over onto his back, pulling Hermione with him in one smooth move so she lay across his chest.
“Granger?” Draco finally spoke, breaking up the contented quiet.
“Hmm?” Hermione hummed as she lazily opened her eyes to look at him, noting the butterflies that burst forth at the warmth in his stare.
“When you’re gone, or when I’ve made you so angry we don’t speak, my heart physically hurts. But when I see you smile again, its like I can breathe after being underwater. Do you think that’s love?” He swallowed thickly as he finished, never breaking eye contact.
Hermione felt like her heart had stopped before being shocked, beating at double the pace as she took in Draco’s confession. This is what she’d wanted from him. She’d known she loved him for quite some time now. All these years spent together, she knew him better than she knew herself some days. “I do, because I feel the same way. You, infuriating man, always pushing me away when all I wanted was to love you.”
“I pushed you away because I thought you deserved better than me. But you deserve to be worshiped, to be coveted. And if there is one thing a Malfoy is good at, it’s hoarding something they hold precious. I think I’d kill another wizard for looking at you wrong, let alone touching you.” Draco traced her jaw before sitting up and capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.
As things began to heat up, the communication panel lit up like a Christmas tree, alerting them to the reality that they were stuck in a magical dome while a storm raged meters above their heads.
“Raincheck?” Hermione asked with a quirk of her brow.
“Definitely. Erm- I think you vanished our clothes.” Draco said as he looked around the very small space for their clothing.
“Good thing I always kicked your arse at transfiguration,” she smirked as she picked up a bit of driftwood sitting at the edge of their protective sphere. She focused her magic, contorting and twisting it to her will until she held a makeshift wet suit roughly in Draco’s size. She grabbed another smaller piece of wood and did the same for herself.
They slipped the suits on, and she shrunk the comm panel down and added a few more layers of protection before placing it in a quickly added pocket in her wetsuit. “Ready?” she looked to Draco, whose head was tipped back as he looked at the mass of swirling water above them.
“You may have been better at a Transfiguration, but Charms was definitely my thing. I cast this after we were trapped beneath the surface. It lasts for about an hour before the magic wears out.” He teased before turning toward her and casting a smaller version of the enhanced bubblehead charm that surrounded them now.
With one last look at each other, Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand and nodded for him to release the protective charm around them. With a quick finite, the spell vanished, and water crashed down around them like a ton of bricks. Hermione was ripped away from Draco, her body tossed around in the current for a moment until she was able to right herself. She kicked and clawed through the ice-cold water, her lungs burned as she quickly used up the limited supply of oxygen contained in the small bubble around her head. She looked around, but the water was so murky she couldn’t spot Draco, only continued her upward battle toward oxygen.
Just as dizziness began to set in, she saw a flicker of light ahead; the sight of it gave her the jolt of desperately needed adrenaline to close the distance. She crashed through the surface, and the thin bubble around her head vanished.
The storm, at its peak, whipped around her. The wind howled as the small, magically charmed orbs of hers and Draco’s creation absorbed the dark tendrils of the tornado.
“Draco!” Hermione screamed, whipping her head from side to side wildly as she tried to find him. Ten agonizing seconds later, he burst through the surface, his skin nearly blue from lack of oxygen as he sucked in greedy lungfuls of air.
Hermione swam to him and cast a repellent charm for the wind and rain on them both before making sure he was okay. “We need to keep going, Draco. We can’t stay here.” She shouted over the sounds of the storm.
He nodded and began swimming toward the shore, Hermione following in his wake in case he needed her. Finally, with aching arms and burning lungs, they dragged themselves onto the rocky shore.
From within the eye of the storm, it wasn’t obvious, but from the shore it was unmistakable. “Draco, look!” Hermione laughed despite her exhaustion.
They watched, sitting side by side, as the work they’d poured years of their life into finally amounted to something. The inky swirls in the storm dissipated as the glass globes began to fill with the remnants of dark magic before popping out of existence. She was certain they’d find a MAM full of orbs waiting to be destroyed when they got back.
“It worked! It fucking worked!” He croaked as he turned toward her with a blinding smile. “You brilliant witch, I love you.” Draco crowed as he pulled her in for a heated kiss.
“I love you too,” she smiled against his lips before resting her head on his shoulder and watching the storm disappear.