Bride of the HP Dragon

Arne sat at the kitchen table, eating a cold pumpkin pie and reading the Daily Prophet.

He liked to start at the back of the paper, where there was the Quidditch news, then the business pages and then the society pages.It's frustrating to read from the beginning, because it seems that there has been a lack of good news recently, but then he assumes that good news is not what people like to see.

Finally, he frowned at a report on the front page.This is an investigative report on the unnatural death of "Narcissa Black Malfoy".And she is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a former Death Eater who has been convicted and serving time.

Her surnames are both ancient and notorious, and there is quite a bit of background information on the Blacks and the Malfoys in the article.According to the report, the woman is believed to have committed suicide, and the death has been kept secret from the public until now.This was not a suicide, the reports suggest so, which is why the investigation is fully underway.

The report also mentioned that Narcissa survived because of her only son, Draco.

Draco.

Arne's eyes widened a little at the realization of who had been sitting in the living room earlier, and fate seemed to favor the young man, ending his bachelorhood in an interesting year.

The bell at the front door rang, and Arne had no visitors or customers, and he guessed it was Nana returning from delivering pies to the elderly neighbor she had befriended.Arne guessed that the old man liked her great-grandmother, but she insisted it was pure friendship.

He put the empty plate and fork in the sink, reached into his jacket pocket out of habit to make sure his wand was there, and answered the door.

It wasn't his great-grandmother standing in front of the door, but the young boy from earlier, Draco.

He was wearing the same black hat Arne had worn when he first met him outside the Round Rock Hotel.

"You're back." Arne was a little confused.

The young man nodded, his silver-gray eyes sparkling: "I need some information, it's urgent."

Arne stared at him for a while: "I usually don't see guests so late, but I think I can make an exception, but this time I insist on charging."

This can satisfy Nana, which is a normal business.

"I'll pay my way." Draco replied with a smile on his face.

Arne hesitated for a moment, not knowing why, maybe he was a little too curious about the young couple, but he always kept a professional distance, just like Nana's advice.

Shrugging those strange feelings aside, he moved away to let Draco in, and it wasn't until the door closed that Arne realized what a painful mistake he had made.

The person he put in was not affected by FidaMia, it was his inherited ability to sense the coming and going of this complex spell.Whereas the previous young couple seemed to be in a thick atmosphere of magic, full of erotic taste, this stranger was completely clean.

There's nothing on him, so he's not the real Draco.

This realization came too late, the boy cast the spell, Arne fell powerlessly to the ground, he watched the boy unhurriedly open the front door, and two more men came in.One of them was short, bald and agile, and he gave Arne a look of disgust.

His companions were quite different: tall and stern, both wrapped in black robes.

The man who attacked Arne crouched beside him.

"Like I said, I need some information."

The information they wanted was about the young couple who had come to Arne before, and they were especially concerned about the boy, Draco.But the information seemed inconsequential, and judging by the stranger's expression, he seemed to already know.

"Thanks," said the boy, if he was a boy.He was in the lead, that was clear, and the other two followed him.

Arne thought they were leaving, and he held his breath.

"Travers, take a souvenir from Mr. Hendricks to show the newlyweds."

The tall man stepped forward, he looked reluctant, but he didn't look like the kind of man who would be swayed by the other party's begging for mercy.

"What do you want?" he asked the boy, who seemed dead except for the voice.

The boy seemed to be thinking, he looked around the narrow corridor and found nothing interesting, then he noticed Arne's unusual eyes, and he smiled again.

"Something they'll remember."

Whatever they were going to do to him, Arne hoped they would do it quickly before Nana came home.The longer the old lady stays away the safer she is.

People always say that when you die there is a flashback. That's nonsense, and unless the person is lucky enough to die peacefully and peacefully, with all sanity functioning properly, you don't have time to sum up life.

Considering that wizards can live for a century, this means that summing up life is a long time, and because of the longevity, the old age is also very long.

Arne had only lived a mediocre 24 years, so there wasn't a damn long stretch to recall.

As Travers approached him, Arne still felt sorry for anything but the fatal mistake.

For a Hendrix to die without experiencing the real FidaMia would be a shame.

When Nana came home that night, she found the door of the house open, her great-grandson dead, in the hallway with bags of money by her side, and the Dark Mark glowing on the roof of the little house.

The bed is so damn small.

Draco woke up on Hermione, complained about how damn small the bed was, and was about to go back to sleep, when he suddenly remembered that he seemed to have slept with her.

He was still pressing her hair.

Draco wanted to be quick and nimble, like a Seeker, and flip over to the side, but he realized he was too tired to do a figure-eight if his life depended on somersaults. somersaults, which sometimes saves him.

Merlin, this girl is in a deep sleep.The dark lashes look very calm on the face, and the breath is long and steady.She would pout naturally when she was asleep, and her skin would have a rosy flush.Draco felt a different kind of peace watching her.This feeling started from the lower abdomen, extended to his chest, and then traveled through his limbs through the blood.

It warms him, and he realizes that he feels safe, which is ridiculous.He's not safe, he hasn't been safe since he was born.

Draco thought gloomily of Potter's declaration of his unwelcome.

Not only was he now responsible for his own survival, but he had to take a girl with him, a fragile Muggle-born girl.Smart, yes, but not smart enough to stay out of danger, not good at riding a broomstick, not even as tall as his shoulders.

She was special, really, but Hermione didn't have the power or influence at his disposal.She couldn't protect him from the temptations and olive branches of the Ministry, or the cold, measured interests of Voldemort and his supporters.It was his fault that Hermione was now a target too.This thought is like a cold wind blowing away the previous warmth.He was a selfish man by nature, and Draco wasn't ashamed of that, and wouldn't hesitate to admit it.

That's why when faced with someone who needs his care and protection, and whose interests are above his own, his mind is not working.

Being alone may be lonely, but at least it is convenient to solve problems.

They now have mutual interests, the stupid girl is sure, and that's when she tells him she loves him.

He could walk away, it would be disinterested and noble, it would be the wisest thing to do, and it would be better for everyone.

It's pretty...Potter-esque, isn't it?

But luckily for her, he's not that kind of guy.

All that was left to do was to make Granger welcome to those around him.That meant avoiding the surveillance of the Ministry of Magic and staying under Voldemort's control.Maybe they're tired, and the world will leave them goddamn alone long enough for him to figure out what's going on with him.

This is just wishful thinking, he knows, things are not that simple.

Tired, Draco closed his eyes, wishing he had fallen asleep as fast as she did: "I'm going to banish depressing thoughts," he whispered.

She wanted him to be happy, he told himself, Granger was really going to drive him crazy.

His voice woke her up, she squirmed under him, her soft, wet breath on his shoulders, she even searched for his ears.

"Hermione." His voice was weak and small.

However, the rest of his body is not weak and tiny at all.

There's nothing graceful about the way he flings down beside her, but he makes up for it with intensity.After some clever deployment, he adjusted to the necessary position, right in her body, and her breathing became shallower.

He knew her tattoo was flickering like fairy lights, and it had been flickering for a while, getting stronger, but he figured she'd be shocked if she knew, Hermione was always prone to overreacting.

He spoke softly, in reassuring words she might like to hear, and he told her to close her eyes.Just look at her like that, but it's better not to be looked at by her.

The only dirty lamp in the room reflected a dim yellow halo, which was very alluring on her skin.It was a bit stuffy in the room as the only window couldn't be opened.Both of them were covered with a thin layer of sweat, making her look dewy and pleasant.

He put his lips on her shoulder and tasted the slight salty taste on her skin.The sheets had fallen off, and her boobs were truly mesmerizing.Now he knew why those erotic thoughts kept popping up at him during breakfast.

Draco gripped the breasts tightly with both hands as he began to sprint.

This time, he didn't let himself lose face.

Hermione raised her head and looked around the room. It was pitch black and the lights were out.Somewhere in the corridor, a woman was laughing.She tried to get out of bed to see what time it was, but Draco's leg was on top of her, reminding her they were going to sleep.

He sounded hoarse.

But his request didn't match his behavior. At that moment, he was buried in her tender bottom.

It was so hot in the room that he took a sheet to cover them both, but it was still unbearable.

"What smell?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. She matched his rhythms seamlessly. The fit between the two was nothing new.

"The quilt," he pressed against the back of her neck, "remember you set a fire?"

"Oh," they didn't need a quilt anyway, it was too hot to cover, Hermione twisted her back and moved to a more comfortable corner: "I think I'll lose money." She yawned.

Draco patted her lightly. "I paid the boss enough to buy a hundred new blankets."

Yes, yes, he is rich.Hermione had known it since first year, and she turned to him and smiled.

His eyes were closed and she was awake.

"Draco."

He was rude: "what's the matter?"

"Do you have a middle name?"

He still didn't open his eyes, but she could see him frowning suspiciously: "You're asking this now?"

"Mine is 'Jane.'" Hermione couldn't keep quiet because her mind was bubbling with silly bliss.

"Not for you." He said hastily.

"I've looked at the school register and, you know, your middle initial is half the alphabet."

For a moment all he wanted was to pretend to be asleep again, but he said anyway, "Why are you looking at my name on the school register?"

She shrugged. "I'm very interested in the archives."

He snorted: "I believe that."

silence.

"So, do you want to tell me?"

He tried to half open his eyes: "If I tell you, will you let me sleep?"

She said yes, and Draco quickly said his full name, showing off his fatigue in passing.

Hermione took a minute to reflect on the five names between Draco and Malfoy: "How about Happy Bones? Maybe you can add..."

He blocked her mouth with his tongue.

"Granger?"

"Ok?"

"I feel like it's my duty to tell you you have the best ass in the world."

silence

Then: "What do you mean by responsibility?"

"I guess I'm an expert on that."

"Why? How many other asses..."

"Shh," he said regretfully, "sleep."

"So when is your birthday?"

She propped her chin against his chest and replied: "September 9th, 19 months older than you." God knows why she was so proud of it, anyway, she was really proud.

Hermione thought Draco must not know how gentle his smile was: "That's not how it works."

"How should it be calculated?" she asked.

He touched her cheek, looking malicious.

"I assume you mean your experience in a professional field, like an appreciation for ass?" she asked dryly.

"You don't need to lose your temper about it."

She yawned and leaned against his chest: "I never lose my temper."

He shook her awake, but within a few minutes she fell asleep.His chest was like a comfortable pillow, and his heartbeat was so reassuring.

But Hermione was uneasy, because she struggled to open her eyes and saw his displeased face.

"Granger, who was your first man?" He asked eagerly.

"Huh?" Ginny often said that it took Hermione 10 minutes to wake up after she woke up.

Draco looked a little annoyed: "I think Potter's feelings for you are irrelevant, he was off the list. I guess it was Weasley, because you had an affair last year."

He said "had a leg" like it was some kind of ailment.

Suddenly, he asked in horror: "Could it be Krum? Tell me it's not Krum."

Hermione was uncomfortable with the way the topic was going: "I hope we don't talk about this right now, I'm really tired." She also yawned.

His eyes became cold and hard again, and for the first time since the two of them went to bed, there was a rift between them.Draco sat up, roughly pulled her away from his chest, and stared at her boldly.

"I'm asking you a question."

She also sat up straight: "Yes, I heard that."

"You have to answer me."

"Okay, since you want to know so much, my first man is you."

He was glaring at her as if she had told him he was a long lost Weasley child.

"Do not."

Hermione was pissed, what the hell did "no" mean?

Muttering bitterly, she wrapped herself in the sheet and got up from the bed, but he still pressed on the sheet, ignoring her rude tug.

Whatever, Hermione found the shirt and underwear she had thrown beside the bed, and hurriedly put them on.

He still pretended to be stupid: "You mean, that night at the party... was your first time?"

"Yeah, I did it six or seven times the first time, if you want to know exactly." She replied sharply.

He made her feel awkward about her inexperience.

What about her skirt and bra?She tried to look under the bed, but she felt he would catch her if given the chance.

"Take off your clothes and go back to bed." His order was as expected, and Hermione was skeptical about what he said next: "I'm sorry my reaction upset you, I was just too surprised."

Hermione was still upset, he made a big fuss, and she would not accommodate him: "Get out, Malfoy."

He raised his eyebrows, then sighed artificially, and got up from the bed.

Hermione's heart was beating wildly.

God, when he tried to be scary, he always succeeded.She screamed because she had a premonition, and the slight fear happily strengthened her premonition. She could feel his arousal, and she could also feel the movement inside her body.

He let her stand there like a mannequin, stripped her naked, and gently pushed her back on the bed.

His hardness pointed at the ceiling made her tongue dry, but she was still angry.

"Why do you have to make trouble in this matter? A partner is not a public broom, shouldn't men be happy?"

He laughed at Hermione's wording: "Your ventriloquism seems to have been practiced many times. I assumed, which is a wrong assumption," he admitted.

Honestly, it's a relief to know he doesn't have to dwell on her past boyfriends.Now, he wondered if she had done that to Weasley or anyone else.He felt bad about his head and didn't want to lose it, but it wasn't smart for him to ask that question now.

"You really can talk, can't you?" She blushed.

She stared at her toes as she said that, which amused Draco.

"My ventriloquism seems to have been practiced for many years." She corrected shyly, her face was hot enough to fry an egg.

They went back to the bed without lying down, and he stroked her arms and back.

"Tell me something." He asked casually, as if asking himself what time it is.He turned her around, pushed her legs apart with his feet, and gently pressed her on the bed, Hermione bit her lip, and Draco slowly pressed in.

"Am I gentle?" He buried it with all his strength, leaving no gap between their bodies.

It took her a while to find her voice: "You are not gentle, but if what I want is gentleness, why did I stay with you that night?"

"Oh," Draco gritted his teeth, holding her hips with both hands: "What a good answer."

He walked around the room naked, stuffing his fertilizer hat and the rest of his money into his bag.After turning on the lamp, he pinched the burnt quilt with two fingers, wrinkled his nose slightly, and threw the quilt into the corner.

The problem was that he was doing all this without any clothes on, and he obviously had no shame.

Hermione had told him the truth.

He smiled at her, and she probably would never get used to him smiling because it was so disturbing.

"Isn't it too late to blush now?"

She pulled up the sheet to cover her head: "I just blush."

"I'll always like the way you blush," he put on his trousers. "Get up and get dressed. We've got plenty of time to get back to Hogwarts before we're late for unseemly reasons."

These words drove her laziness away, and she habitually brushed up her hair hanging on her shoulders, and Draco suddenly found that this action was really coquettish: "Really? What time is it?"

"Four in the morning." Draco tucked his wand into his back pocket as Hermione nagged him not to.Because of this carelessness, a hip theft happens every two weeks in the wizarding world.

"Why do we wake up the whole school when we go back?" she was frustrated.

The fact that they had to go back separately made her very depressed.

He flashed into the bathroom, and when he came out, he said, "Not necessarily."

Draco's wet hair was all brushed back smoothly, and she longed to find him even more handsome: "I'll find a way to let us in."

He found the small face towel from her bag and soaked it in warm water.

"I think you're planning to freshen up, too." He suddenly sounded disturbed.

They're in a new phase now, especially Draco.She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd thrown herself whole into the vortex of fate, and Draco might just have stuck in a big toe.

Warm towels are nice, but what she wants is a hot bath to calm both body and mind.

"You can take a shower when you get back to Hogwarts," he added afterwards, already putting on his shoes.

"Don't read my mind," murmured Hermione, carefully wrapping herself in the sheet and standing up on aching legs.

He grabbed the corner of her bed sheet as she was going into the tiny bathroom.

The playfulness is no longer on his face: "You know we have problems to solve? That hasn't changed."

It's funny how she thought they'd solved the problem and changed everything.

But he was a Malfoy, and it would take time for him to come to the same conclusions as her.

"Yes, I know." That was all Hermione could say.

It must be because she sounded so lonely, Draco lifted her waist and gave her a soft kiss.His earlier expression was like he was going against his sanity again, but after the kiss he lightened up again.

People don't fall in love in two weeks, Hermione's head reminded herself, and she was left alone in the tiny bathroom.

This time, she stared at herself in the mirror with no regrets.

"I did it," she told herself, before washing her face.

Talking to herself was a new habit she had developed after falling in love with Malfoy, and it was clear that spiritual encouragement had entered her life.

It would be nice if he could say something, but she also knew he needed time.

They have another day.