The grounds of Hogwarts were beautifully dusted with snow and sprinkled with fairy lights. As Draco guided Hermione to a secluded spot, tucked between two alcoves of the castle and behind a large bush, she noticed many couples who had snuck off to do the same – including Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour and Roger Davis. No one paid them any mind as they settled into their spot, the cold winter air barely touching them thanks to the warming charms surrounding the castle.

Draco said nothing, just pulled Hermione into his arms and let her cry out her frustration and hurt. He’d been close enough to hear the exchange between the three friends, Hermione had realized when he didn’t ask her any questions about her current emotional state. When she had finally hiccupped herself into silence, Draco tenderly wiped her face with his handkerchief.

“This night has been a disaster,” Hermione muttered.

“You’ve got that right,” Draco agreed, folding the piece of linen and placing it back in an inside pocket of his robes.

“Thank you, by the way… for Krum.”

Draco’s eyes flashed, all the tenderness of a moment ago gone.

“Tell me what he did to you,” Draco commanded in the same low voice he’d used with her before he’d left the great hall.

She swallowed, heat flushing her cheeks.

“Nothing really… just stared and… touched me.”

A low hiss rumbled through Draco’s chest.

“He touched you? Where?”

She shook her head.

“It’s fine Draco, just holding me too close, breathing on me – you know.”

Draco slid a hand around her waist.

“Like this?” He asked in the same low tone.

Her breath caught.

“No… it… it was closer.”

Draco’s hand dipped lower, sliding over the upper curve of her ass before curling his fingertips around her hip.

“Like this?”

Hermione bit her lip, but shook her head.

“Closer…” she breathed.

He pulled her close against him and she could feel the muscular lines of his torso through the expensive silk of his dress robes. Her stomach fluttered wildly, his face was only a breath away from hers.

“What else?” His lips just barely grazed hers as he spoke.

With his other hand, he slid it up her arm with aching slowness.

“Did he touch you like this?”

“Yes…” Hermione said, eyelids fluttering at the sensation and wishing he would kiss her. When she tried to lean her mouth towards his, he moved his face just out of reach.

Draco’s hand curved around her shoulder, fingertips grazing her collarbone. She whimpered as his hand drew small swirls around the base of her throat before sliding lower to the silken folds of the neckline of her gown.

“Did he touch you here?”

Hermione shook her head, trying to bite back the moan that wanted to wriggle its way out as his fingers slid between her breasts.

“Tell me, Hermione…” Draco’s breath danced across her face. “Use your words, darling.”

She wet her lips, his grey eyes tracking the movement of her tongue.

“No…”

His fingers dragged across the underside of her chest, sliding through the silken ruffles of the gown.

“No what… love.”

Hermione took a shuddering breath, her chest rising until it touched Draco’s. Heat coursed through her body and settled between her thighs. The hand resting on her hip squeezed slightly, pulling her hips closer to his and she felt the hard length of his erection pressing into her stomach.

“He didn’t…” She cleared her throat. “Didn’t touch me there.”

A sly grin pulled the corner of Draco’s mouth up, his fingertips making the same journey around her other breast.

“Who has touched you like this?” His voice was velvet and tinged with darkness.

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as his thumb dragged across the hardened peak of her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress. She knew what he wanted to hear – knew he wouldn’t give her what she wanted until she said it.

“Only you, Draco.”

His hand slid up, bracketing her throat – index finger stroking the line of her jaw.

“That’s right, only me… And do you know why that is love?”

Draco pressed himself closer into her until her back met the sill of the stone window. He guided her up onto the ledge, pressing her knees wide. She grabbed for her skirts, drawing them up until he could settle between her thighs – all the while Draco never let go.

She moaned when she felt his length press against her core.

“It’s because you’re mine,” he growled.

His lips finally crashed against hers in a frantic mix of teeth and tongue, swallowing her moan as he ground himself against her with a delicious friction. She slid her hands over his shoulders, down his back, then beneath the dark fabric of his robes.

Hermione wanted – no needed – to touch him. To feel his skin beneath her hands. Desperately she grasped for his shirt, trying to pull it from where it tucked into his trousers but was stopped by his black waistcoat. She groaned as his lips moved to her neck, biting and sucking the skin beneath her ear.

Abandoning her original plan, she reached for the pearl buttons of his shirt, popping them free one by one until she could slide her hands against the pale skin of his chest. He shivered against her and the moan he gave as she raked her nails across his pecs created a fire inside her that she wasn’t sure could ever be quenched.

“ Fuck ,” he cursed, angling his hips higher to slide against her center.

She whimpered, trying to press herself closer to him.

“Draco… Draco, please,” she pleaded.

He pulled back, lips swollen and shining in the warm light reflected from the castle. He was panting slightly, his grey eyes silver and molten.

“I know what you need.” He dragged a hand down her waist, over the bunched fabric of her dress, until his fingers connected with the bare skin of her calf.

His thumb circled the inside of her knee, sliding higher to the delicate skin of her thigh, until his fingers traced the seam of the matching periwinkle underwear she wore. Hermione whimpered again, trying to grind against his hand.

“I’ll take care of you.” Draco’s heated voice was a caress against her skin. “I always take care of what’s mine.”

Finally his hand dipped beneath the line of lace, fingers trailing through her wetness. Her moan seemed to vibrate through her whole body as he slipped one long finger inside. The feeling was exquisite, especially as she felt the metallic ridge of his signet ring press against her clit.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so wet, love… is this all for me?”

She nodded frantically, head falling back as he slipped a second finger inside, curling them back towards him. But then they stilled inside of her.

“Use your words, Hermione,” he said again in that dark voice that caused her to ache even more – only slightly embarrassed at how much wetter she got when he used that tone.

“Y… Yes. It’s for you.” The words came out faster, she never wanted him to stop. “It’s all for you… I’m y-yours Draco.”

His yes sounded more like the hissing of a snake, grey eyes fluttering with pleasure at her declaration before he picked up the pace of his fingers. The pleasure curled through her, continuing to build as she felt her walls flutter around his graceful fingers. His signet ring, she realized, had rotated and was pressing exactly where she needed it.

But before she could find release, his fingers slowed, the rhythm changed and she almost groaned in frustration.

“Patience, little lion.” His mouth slotted over hers, tongue pressing into her mouth.

She moaned, reaching forward until her hands slid against the stiff placket of his trousers where she could feel his own need. His mouth grew taut for a moment as her fingertips fumbled with the buttons, but finally she was able to unbutton enough to slide a hand through the short curls that trailed beneath his navel down to his hardened cock.

“ Fuck … Yes…” Draco moaned.

Her hand curled around his length and she gave it an experimental stroke. His fingers inside of her began to move again, faster.

“Tighter at the top…” Draco instructed, his forehead pressing against hers. “Yes… just like that love… fuck .”

Emboldened by his moans, her hand moved with more confidence. Her own pleasure building and spreading each time he groaned. She gripped him tighter, twisting her wrist at the top which produced such a delicious sound from him she did it again.

It was all she could focus on as his ring pressed firmer against her clit. As if her hand had taken on a life of its own, intent on bringing Draco as much pleasure as he was giving her. Again she felt the fluttering, the increase of pressure, she felt her legs stiffen against the outside of his thighs.

His free hand came up, sliding over her mouth, as her climax crested. Her eyes fluttered shut and the muffled cries of his name slipped through his fingers as her body convulsed. Her hand continued to work him through her orgasm until with his own groan he followed her over the edge.

Panting, they both slowly relaxed in each other’s arms. Hermione’s eyes opened to see Draco’s cheeks were tinged pink, hair mussed, and a grin on his face. Slowly he removed his hand, sliding his two fingers into his mouth.

She gaped at him as he sucked her orgasm from his skin.

She pulled her hand from his trousers, fingers wet and sticky from his release. He watched her as she brought her hand to the light before sliding a finger inside her mouth, tasting the salty and slightly bitter taste of his pleasure.

“I need to find a pensieve…” Draco said beneath his breath.

With a wave of his wand, he cleaned them up best he could, assisting her down from the ledge and smoothing her skirts around her.

Drawing her into his arms, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you,” he said softly, and the words seemed to shimmer in the air.

“I love you,” she answered, squeezing him a bit tighter.

“Let’s go, I’ll walk you as far as I can,” Draco said, stepping back but keeping a hold of her hand, thumb stroking her bracelet.

Draco stepped out first from their hiding spot, looking around tentatively before pulling Hermione with him. She was grateful to see that they’d picked an area far enough away from the entrance hall that no one was around.

A light snowfall had just begun, Draco pulled her tighter to his side, wrapping her up in his robes as they skirted the edges of the pools of light cast from the wide windows. Just as they rounded the corner to the entrance hall they skidded to a stop.

In front of them were the billowing, bat-like robes of Professor Snape. His back was turned to them as he argued in a hushed whisper with the Durmstrang headmaster. Snape was pulling down the left sleeve of his robes while Karkaroff’s eyes wheeled wildly looking for an escape. At the sight of Draco and Hermione he turned with a grinding of his heel and stalked off, leaving Snape behind.

Before Draco and Hermione could so much as breathe, Snape turned around.

“Well, well… What do we have here?” He said in his most oily tone.