She was mine. D/Hr. 1/1 Complete. Mature

[kerri240879]

Title: She was mine.

Author: Kerri

Characters: Draco/Hermione

Draco’s P.O.V One shot.

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I’m just using them for my own perverted sense of fun.

Feed back: Sure thing! Feedback is always helpful.

Summary: Draco’s thoughts as he thinks back over the past.


Blood: crimson in colour; thick and life giving. It flows through our veins, and keeps us alive. Yet only some of us are lucky enough to have an extra ingredient in our blood. And that ingredient is magic.

Pureblood: that is what I am. A pure blood wizard, a young man; with one foot still in childhood and the other in adulthood. I know that people expect me to join my father’s side after graduation, and fight for the right to pureblood supremacy. But I won’t. I can’t. Not because I choose a different path, but because my father did.

He chose to fight for the light in the middle of my sixth year, yet he would not do so until the summer. He chose the right side, because his son had fallen in love with what the Dark Lord hated most. A Muggle-born. Mudblood. Impure.

My happiness and well-being is all my father cares for. It is all he has ever cared for. He always made sure I had everything I ever wanted. He went out of his way to get it for me. His only child: his heir. And I wanted her.

She walks with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley during the day. She fights at their side, and fights for the right to even live as a witch. She fights to exist. She fights against everything my father has ever taught me.

I hated her from the day I met her. I hated her right up until it became impossible to do so, and I fell in love with her. And even as I love her with every fibre of my body, at the time I hated her all the same. She tore my whole world apart, and left it lying in rubble at my feet.

She tore my father’s life apart, and made him question everything. That didn’t stop him cursing me twenty ways from Sunday, and even now, he still shakes his head sometimes, and sighs. The Malfoy line; tainted. And in the very best way.

The first time I realised my feelings for her were changing, I fought against them. I had sex with as many pure-blooded girls as I could. But it didn’t help. Even buried to the hilt in ‘pureness’, all I could see was her face. Her eyes. All I could smell was her subtle perfume. And I hated her for it.

My father found me pacing the library in Malfoy Manor one night during the sixth year Christmas holidays, muttering to myself. He stood in the shadows, and watched as his son grew more and more agitated, and then he asked me what was wrong.

I’ve never lied to my father. I have no need to. So I told him the truth. That all I wanted to do was take the Gryffindor Princess and break her down, the way she had broken me. Make her scream my name, the way hers always sounded in my mind when I was with other witches. I begged my father to fix me. Make me better. There had to be something wrong with me. He fixed me, alright.

When I returned to school, I was partnered with her for Potions. I had to sit at her side, drowning in that subtle perfume, and wanting nothing more than to take her right there on the floor. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. She wasn’t pure.

My father Floo'ed me that night, and asked me if I had enjoyed Potions that day. I just scowled at him, causing him to laugh softly. I asked him why he had done this, and his answer surprised me.

“Draco, we always want what others say we can’t have. This is your opportunity, to get closer to her. Make her trust you. Take what you want, and purge yourself of her. Then you will be better.”

So I did. We studied together in the library for Potions every second night. Snape had given us a fairly hard potion to do, which would take proper study, both written and practical. I could have kissed his feet for it. It helped that Potter and Weasley were partnered with other students too, so that the Golden Trio was apart.

She was wary of me. I would catch her watching me during the study sessions, her gaze thoughtful as she watched me. I smirked to myself, but didn’t say anything to her about it. When she would lower her gaze back to her parchments, I would raise my own eyes, and watch her.

It became a game of cat and mouse with our eyes. Watching one another, and looking away when caught. During class, and meals, and if we saw one another in the halls. This went on for a month, and when we handed our assignment in we got the highest marks in the class, which caused a small smile to grace her lips as she glanced at me.

We were told to get used to these partners, because that is who we would be working with for the remained of our sixth year, and also in our final year. I could have done a happy dance around the dungeons when I heard Snape’s words.

She was finally starting to relax around me, so I took another step. Rather than sit across from her during our study sessions, I sat beside her. Close enough to enjoy her scent, but not to close that she would shy away. Her name came easily now to my lips, as did mine with her.

I spoke about her more easily with my father, who in turn seemed fascinated with what I told him. My conversations with her had gone from only talking about what ever Potion we were making, to discussing everything we could.

Life. Blood status. The Muggle world, and the Magic world, and the differences between them. Religion, books, music and food. She was as passionate about books as she was study, and I found that turned me on more than anything else.

When Father found this out, he did something that shocked me. I told him of a book she wanted to read, but had been unable to find. It was rare, and worth a fortune. Father tracked it down, and sent it to her. She showed me the note that had accompanied the book, and I found myself speechless.

Miss Granger,
My son told me of the book you discussed last week, and I took the liberty of finding it. I hope you will accept this small token from me, and that you enjoy the book, as much as I did when I first read it.
Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy.


She would later admit, to us both, that she had taken the book to Dumbledore and had asked him to make sure that it was indeed only a book, and that there was nothing sinister within it. A month after receiving it, she was assured that it was indeed only a book, and she devoured it that very night.

Even Potter and Weasley were starting to relax around me slightly, which made me relax around them too. That was, in turn, what enabled me to take another step in what I wanted from her. Casual touches; fleeting in nature.

A brush of our fingers or hands. A pressing of my thigh against hers as we would work together. Reading over her shoulder, or brushing against her in the storage cupboards in Potions.

I can still remember the first kiss we ever shared. We were in the library, and it was late. The only light came from our wand tips, the silence of the night broken only by our hushed voices.

The hour grew later still, and I went to find another book. When I returned, she had laid her head on her arms and had fallen asleep. Her hair was a wild riot of curls across the desk, her eyelashes tipped with gold as they rested against her cheek.

I had sat beside her, and laid my own head on my arms and studied her without hurry. I knew the shade of her eyes. Warm toffee; which could snap frigidly with anger, or sparkle with warmth and laughter.

The haughty tilt of her eyebrows, and the Cupid's bow of her top lip. The light scattering of freckles across her nose, and those perfect white teeth; a product of my own creation after a hex in third year.

A single curl had fallen across her cheek, and I took the time to lift it and wind it around my finger, marveling at the softness of her hair. I tucked it behind her ear, and when I glanced back at her, her eyes were open and watching me once more.

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes wary as she stared at me. The thinnest veil of sleep still clung within her eyes, and I was helpless to stop the small groan that tumbled from my lips as I reached out and ran a hand over her hair.

Her lips parted under that touch, and it was then that I shook my head, and closing the distance between us, kissed her for the first time. My fingers sank into her hair, keeping her head still, my mouth working her own with gentle skill.

I tugged her lower lip gently between my teeth, sucking on it lightly. Swept my tongue across her own. The moan that spilt from her own lips I swallowed as I tugged her closer. I made a mistake though, my hand sweeping across her breast as I deepened the kiss. She jerked in my arms, and broke free, her breathing erratic as she stood up.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

A whisper in the darkness, and then she was gone. And I did my small happy dance, my lips swollen and red, and my eyes bright with desire as I wondered how to go about kissing her again.

The first time I tugged her into a hidden alcove between classes, she shook her head, and slipped away. But the second time, as I tugged her in, I caught her lips with mine, silencing her soft protests and drowning her with need. I made sure to keep my hands on her hips or her face during those first few stolen moments, until she finally started to relax.

The whole school was wondering what was going on. But only one person dared question me. My housemates wouldn’t dare. Potter cornered me one day after Quidditch practise, and asked me what I was playing at. I told him the truth. I wanted her. I had wanted her since the end of fifth year.

That shocked him. He asked me; why her. And again I was truthful. She was the one girl I wasn’t meant to touch, and that it had driven me mad since third year. He asked me if I was using her to get to him. I scoffed at that, and he had shrugged. And sixth year finished.

During the summer holidays, we Owled one another. My next shock came when my father told me to ask her to come to the Manor for a few days, so he could see what I saw in her. She was hesitant; but I assured her that he only wanted to meet her in a different light.

So she came. My father wasn’t even insulted when an Auror accompanied her. Tonks. My cousin. At least she was here. She and my father would talk in the evenings, about everything we had already discussed. And she tore him down; forced him to face what he had already been thinking for the last year.

Father and Tonks went out the following day, and I finally had her to myself. We went swimming in the lake, splashing one another and laughing. Her laughter died on her lips, however, when I caught her in my arms and bought her closer.

Her lips were cool under mine and wet with the water clinging to them. Her hair was a heavy mass down her back, and I tangled my fingers in the wet strands. With my feet planted firmly on the bottom of the lake, she was forced to hang onto me as I kissed her, due to being quite a bit shorter than I was.

It only took a little coaxing for her to wrap her legs around my hips, bringing us flush against each other. She had gasped into my mouth when she felt my obvious arousal, but her gasp was smothered by my moan.

Long moments were spent exploring each other’s mouths, sipping from each other, only to devour each other whole. I made sure my hands were firm on her skin as I showed her my intent; I ran my hands up her back to the tie of her bikini top.

When the cool water swirled across her breasts, she stiffened momentarily, but slowly relaxed against me. I moved slowly through the water, until I was able to lay her on the bank of the lake; half in, half out of the water; my hands and lips firm.

I spent a long moment looking down at her, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. It was only when I groaned and cupped a breast that she sighed, her hand tangling in my hair and bringing my lips back to hers. And I knew; she was mine.

My father returned that night, absolutely exhausted, and told us both the truth. He had just returned from joining the Order of the Phoenix. He would fight for the Light, rather than the Dark. She asked why, and Father smiled.

“You are meant to be the brightest witch of your age, Hermione. Now, look at my son, and ask me again.”

I didn’t push her. I let her set the pace, and when we returned to school, both of us making Head Boy and Girl respectively, it made me smile for several reasons. We shocked everyone. We were to walk into the Great Hall together, and halfway down, I took her hand in mine, the meaning clear to everyone. She was mine.

We were respectful to our houses, and to the students and teachers. They would only see the occasional kiss in an alcove between classes if I hadn’t seen her all day. The occasional note passed, and my hand remained on her lower back as we walked.

This very act would open up several people to inter-house dating, and show the older students a different way of life. I think what shocked people more than Hermione and me, was when Pansy and Weasley got together. And I knew everything would be fine.

The nights...the nights were mine. I would spend hours after dinner, caressing her skin, and drowning in her lips. I’ll never forget the night that both Snape and McGonagall walked in on us. We were sitting on the couch, me with my shirt off, and Hermione with hers half unbuttoned, both of us lost in a burning kiss.

A throat was cleared, and I dragged my mouth free of hers and looked up. Snape smirked as I blushed and pushed Hermione’s face against my chest, in an attempt to shield her. It was that act alone that had McGonagall relaxing towards me.

We were told that we were doing a very good job as head students, and that the fact we were not flaunting our relationship, showed an admirable level of maturity. Then Snape embarrassed all four of us, by handing us a piece of parchment, and telling us that it was a long lasting contraceptive charm, and that we were to cast it that night.

“You are of age. We could easily separate you back into your dorms, but I have the feeling that this wouldn’t stop you. You may not head into that aspect of your relationship for some time, but things have a habit of being uncontrollable, and it would be better to be prepared, than not.”

That put an end to our nightly activities that night, Hermione fleeing to her room as soon as the professors left, and me partaking in my nightly ritual of relieving myself in the shower. But when I walked out of the bathroom, and into the common room to read the parchment again, it was gone. Hermione had already taken it. I was elated.

The first time I had ventured lower than her breasts, she had frozen against me, her eyes wide with fright. And it was then that I knew. She would come to me a virgin, so I had to take it as slowly as she wanted. It had gone from being a need to sate a low burning desire to becoming a need to cherish her, and show her what I had yet to say in words.

Our days were spent in classes and with our friends, and when those friendships started to mingle, Dumbledore got his wish for inner house unity. No longer did we just sit at our own house tables. Ravenclaws mixed with Hufflepuffs, Hufflepuffs mixed with Gryffindors, and Gryffindors mixed with Slytherins.

And just before Christmas, when Voldemort struck, he was horrified to see the sixth and seventh year students stand as one behind Harry Potter, and my father standing beside Snape and Dumbledore. The whole invasion took less than three hours to end, and end it did.

Voldemort lay dead, his Death Eaters with him. Goyle had killed his own father, and Pansy had killed hers. There were deaths on our side too though. And, as one, we mourned. Hermione was hurt during that fight; and Harry later told me, that to see me standing above her, killing any of the Death Eaters who came too close, confirmed what he had already known. I loved her. I would die for her. I nearly did.

I spent four weeks sitting at her bedside, waiting for her to wake up. Four weeks; in which I only left her side to shower and eat. During those times my father would sit with her, or Harry and Ron would. Pansy sat with her too, as did Goyle. Crabbe had died in the war, taking a curse meant for me.

When she finally opened her eyes, I wasn’t there. My father was. He had been sleeping, slumped in a chair, his normal mask gone in grief and worry. Her voice had been husky when she spoke; my father waking with a jerk.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before a single tear had slid down her cheek, and she had choked my name out on a sob. Father had been quick to reassure her that I was indeed alive, but that classes had resumed that morning, and I had been forced to go. Head Boy, you know.

When I came in at a dead run during lunch, she was lying on her side, her hand nestled between my father’s larger ones, and they had been talking in hushed whispers. As I stared at them, I heard my father’s words and nearly wept.

“I raised Draco to believe in purity. But you have shown me the very meaning of pure, Hermione. You made my son a man, and if that means changing my thoughts and accepting that my future daughter-in-law is a Muggleborn, who is the smartest witch I know, then change my thoughts I will. You are welcome…I welcome you to my family with open arms, and I look forward to the day you and Draco make Narcissa and me Grandparents.”

My father had wiped away the tear that had slid down her cheek, and smiled, Hermione smiling in return and asking him, weakly, what had he done with the real Lucius Malfoy, who would never show his feelings like that. He had smiled, and told her she had changed him, too.

She spent another week in the infirmary, and then she returned to our quarters. It was that night that she gave herself to me. For as long as I live, never will I forget the sight of her, standing in my doorway, in nothing but a towel.

Clean, pure and virginal in the candlelight as a distant clock struck twelve. I took my time that night. Drugging her with kisses that stole her breath, and caresses that set her skin aflame. Clenching my fists as she explored every inch of my body with a hesitant touch, and biting my lip as her lips followed.

I returned the favour ten-fold, and she cried out softly and shook under me, as I showed her the joy of it all as the night bled way. For hours I readied her, losing control a few times, and spilling myself over her skin or over the sheets. She had blushed beautifully during that time, but I was patient, and told her it was a good thing. It would make it easier for me when I took her.

Dawn was ready to break when I finally did. She had been in the throes of orgasm, and my restraint had finally snapped. I rolled over her, and as she arched her hips against mine; rather than arch against her, I pushed into her instead.

She had only moaned, barely feeling the tug that came as her virginity was lost. She had looked up at me, and then down at where we were joined, and a single tear had slid down her cheek towards her hair.

I knew what she was feeling: Whole. That missing piece of the puzzle had finally snapped into place, and as I began to slowly move within her silken walls, she reached up and wiped away my own tears.

No words were spoken. Only sighs and moans and gasps, echoing as the light of dawn spilt into my room, and bathed us both in it. When she came apart in my arms, I followed her quickly, murmuring softly into her neck.

“I love you.”

She had tightened her arms around me, her hand lazy as the moved up and down my back. It was only when I relaxed and closed my eyes, still intimately joined with her, that she whispered in my ear.

“I love you, too.”

I asked her to marry me on Graduation Day six months later, and she said yes with no hesitation. We were married the following year, my bride walking towards me in an ivory gown that made her name at school all the more ironic. No longer was she Gryffindor’s Princess. She was mine.

She became pregnant two years later, but managed to complete her Healers training before the baby was born. She nearly broke my hand while in labour; and she had hissed at me, between contractions, that if I thought I was ever going to be in her body again, I was sorely mistaken, because she was going to rip my parts off.

Then my daughter slid into the world, covered in muck and squawking indignantly as her bottom was slapped a few times to help her breathe. My daughter. And I had openly cried against Hermione’s hair as my beautiful girl was handed to my wife, and stared up at us with the curiosity that all newborn babies have.

While the Healers helped settle my wife, I carefully carried my newest girl out to meet her family. And what a family it is! Hermione’s parents, and mine. The Weasleys, Harry, Pansy, Goyle and Luna. Snape and Dumbledore.

Everyone stared down at the tiny pink blanket in my arms; as silver eyes opened sleepily, and peered up. My daughter’s head was covered in dark blonde curls; the best of both of us. The woman wept, and the men slapped each other on the back. But once more, my father surprised me.

He gently took his granddaughter in his arms, and walked away slightly, his head bent as he spoke to her seriously. A protective charm lit up the room, my father shrugging arrogantly when everyone looked at him in surprise.

“No one touches a Malfoy.”

Then he nuzzled his nose against her cheek, his soft murmur heard by all.

“Especially not my beautiful girl. That’s right darling girl, no one touches you. Wait until you see what Grandpa has bought you…books…toys…a broom…oh yes, Grandpa loves you. You bring the Light, even more than your mother. She showed me the Light…now I stand in it with you. Sweet, sweet girl…”

He didn’t even wince when her flailing hand caught a fistful of his hair, and tugged sharply. He just smiled, and kissed her once more, before handing her to Hermione’s mother. And then wiping his eyes, caught me in a hug that almost crushed my ribs.

So now I lay here, with Hope Malfoy lying on my chest fast asleep. She’s nearly two now, and her hair is a riot of curls like her mother’s, but a darker blonde than my own. Yet her eyes have remained mine, alone.

Hermione is singing as she puts our son down. Lucas Malfoy, after his grandpa. Hope has everyone twisted around her dainty finger, but no one more so than my father and Snape. They dote on her constantly, but she isn’t spoilt. She just lavishes them with kisses, and lights up their once-dark world.

Then my light walked out, a smile gracing her lips as she looks down at me. And I know I have to tell her, just once more time.

“You saved my life, Hermione.”

She smiles gently, and presses those beautiful lips against my own, and whispers in my ear.

“And you saved mine. I love you, Draco.”

I smile, and watch as she gently lifts Hope from my arms, to carry her inside. And I know, that she will always be mine.

~Fin~