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Horrified screams pierced the air, and Hermione quickly threw up a silencing ward around the large, open forest space. It wouldn't do to be caught again, especially not in the current circumstances.
She turned back around to watch the carnage, and began nervously chewing on her nails. The screaming really had been too loud, and they had been here too long. She needed to go and make sure Harry was okay.
“Are you almost done?” She asked, harsher than intended.
He froze, and Hermione knew that she was in trouble. Fiddlesticks.
“I’m sorry, did me saving your life after you broke the Taboo inconvenience you? Shall I just stop and leave them here as is?” He drawled, although there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice. She sighed heavily.
“No. I’m just worried about the noise, and about Harry-”
“If anyone else shows up I'll deal with them too. As for the Chosen Cunt, I’m sure he's fine.”
Hermione clenched her jaw but remained silent. After a beat he continued on.
She really should be more grateful, especially since it was entirely her own fault they were in this situation.
It had been three years since the Battle of Hogwarts. While Voldemort successfully killed the Horcrux living within Harry’s soul, dying had a negative effect on him. Or, rather, his magical core. It left him weakened, at least as a Wizard. He felt guilty about it, as Hermione or Ron now had to watch his back even more and also Apparate him everywhere. He felt he needed to overcompensate by often going to scavenge food in the muggle world.
Somehow, on one of his trips in the last week, he managed to pick up a bad case of what Hermione wagered was muggle influenza. Those with magic were less susceptible to muggle sickness, so Hermione and Ron were okay so far.
Hermione was just so bloody tired. His fever had spiked that morning, and he had become delusional, going in and out of consciousness. In her exhausted stress, she had cursed Voldemort’s existence. She thought she had only said it in her head, but when Ron’s eyes bugged out, she realized she had royally fucked up.
Almost immediately three quick cracks of apparition sounded, and she felt the moment the Anti-Apparition ward was put in place.
“Take Harry and run, I’ll draw attention to myself and lure them away. Get out of the Anti-Apparition ward and get Harry to a muggle hospital, maybe in Suffolk.”
Ron looked torn, but they both knew Hermione couldn’t carry Harry. Levitating him would take too much time.
“Fine, but you better tell him this was your idea. And make sure you stay alive until he arrives. I don't fancy dying in whatever barmy way he would come up with,” Ron grumbled before heaving Harry over his shoulder and slipping out the back of the tent.
Hermione pulled a long chain from her shirt that held a silver D pendant and gripped it tightly in her palm, thinking of him. She was to only use it in extreme circumstances, and when he felt the burn on his matching necklace that held an H, she knew he would come running.
And he did—unfortunately it was after she had been caught and roughed up by Greyback, Rowle, and Flint. They had already done quite a bit of damage to her; she was sure when Greyback backhanded her that he had crushed her cheekbone and broken her nose. Rowle had bound her tightly with a Incarcerous, which, with the t-shirt she had been wearing, meant that the ropes had cut into her skin.
One would think that would cause Hermione to crumble and give up, but the war had hardened her, and she refused to show them fear. After she had made a very pointed comment that Flint was the product of his mother fucking a troll, he had Crucioed her. Rowle had finally made him stop, simply because Voldemort would kill them if they delivered her without her mind intact. So Flint took to kicking her several times with his dragonhide boots instead. After that she only stopped antagonizing them because breathing was getting very difficult. She suspected he broke her ribs and one of them had pierced her lung.
Just as the three of them were discussing the vile things they were going to do to her when Voldemort was done searching her mind for any information about Harry, he showed up.
Not that they knew that. He never made his presence known until he wanted it to be. Which was why he had the moniker he did:
Spectre.
He moved like a ghost—silent. If he had you in his sights, you wouldn't know until he was already directly behind you. By then, you would likely be dead before you realized what had even happened. That is, if he wanted you to be. He was often referred to as evil and sadistic. Truly, some of the more mad theories Hermione had heard about him was that he was really a malevolent spirit that Voldemort had somehow summoned from the world of the dead, and that he now used Spectre to take out his most fierce opponents.
What a joke.
While to everyone else he was some sort of phantom from a shadow realm, to Hermione, he was simply her husband.
Also known as Draco Malfoy.
He had climbed the Death Eater ranks and was now one of Voldemort’s lieutenants, along with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Dolohov. While the others all remained maskless, thriving on the fear they instilled when anyone saw their faces, he still wore a mask. Not silver though, but onyx. It gave him anonymity, as only a very select few knew his true identity. It also fit well with his nickname.
A few others knew who he was as well, of course. The Dark Lord and the other lieutenants.
Along with Hermione, Harry, Ron, Kingsley, Minerva, and Tonks. Because he wasn't only Spectre, he was also an informant for The Order.
Flint’s begging had brought Hermione back to the moment. It was rather pathetic, really. Draco had not even touched him yet. The troll baby was just in hysterics about what he had seen Draco do so far.
As his nickname suggested, he had noiselessly snuck up on them. Hermione had felt him arrive of course—a byproduct of their soul bond. One minute, the degenerate arseholes were discussing who would get a turn with her first, next they were all thrown back and bound. Even through her struggle to breath she still smiled at their shocked yells.
“Took you… long enough…” she said with laboured breaths. He ignored her and cast a diagnostic as he knelt down. His mask was still in place, so his expression was hidden. But Hermione could feel the rage radiating off of him.
“What the fuck happened?” Draco growled.
“Accidentally…broke the… Taboo… lured away… so Harry and… Ron… could escape.” The way he tilted his masked face, she knew he was likely giving her a disappointed glare. But he did not reply, instead he began to heal her. He paused to silence the others as they had begun yelling at him.
When he was done some twenty minutes later, she was mostly back to normal. Although her side twinged, and she wondered if she should vanish a rib or two and regrow them later.
He helped her to stand and crushed her against his chest, lowering his voice. Through his mask she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, causing her skin to break out in goosepimples.
“Never do that again, or I will drag you back to the Manor with me and keep you tied to the bed.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, making sure he did not catch her doing so, or he’d just follow through on his threat.
Was Draco toxic? Possessive? Maybe just a little bit mad? Yes, undoubtedly. While it scared some, and at times irked Hermione herself, it was also part of the reason she loved him. Because no matter what, Draco put her first above all else. He cared for her more than anyone else on this godsforsaken earth, and she felt the same way about him.
He was also very fit and extremely well endowed, so that didn't hurt.
He pulled off his mask and cupped her face, then kissed her softly. It was almost jarring how gentle he was when he wanted to be, compared to both the words he just spoke and the way he presented himself.
“Which one of them hurt you?” His voice now dark and filled with malice. She knew he would tear them apart either way, simply from what he must have overheard them saying about her, but she also knew he needed to know exactly what happened. Hermione explained what each of them had done to her, and assured him that they had not actually acted on any of their threats of rape.
She stood back and watched as he unsilenced them. Flint and Rowle looked so stunned that Draco was actually the notorious Spectre that Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Greyback, on the other hand, had a look in his eye as if he already knew, and his next words confirmed Hermione’s suspicion.
“You traitorous little scab. I knew it. I knew you were up to something. Bella and Rodolphus suspect it too. Just wait until I can sink my claws into you-”
“You don't seem to be in any sort of position for making threats. Now pipe down, wolfie,” Draco drawled. Flint interjected before Greyback could respond.
“Malfoy! You’re Spectre? What the fuck are you doing? Why did you heal the mudblood?” he shouted.
“Well, Flint. I would have thought it obvious, but let me spell it out for you, since your small brain is struggling to comprehend. The three of you hurt Hermione. She is mine. I do not allow anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way to continue breathing-”
“Yours? You would choose her filthy quim over your fellow purebloods?” Rowle spat.
Hermione noticed Draco’s eye twitch. That certainly didn't bode well for any of the men.
“There is nothing filthy about her. But yes, I would choose her everyday, in every lifetime. Now, I could have used some simple Avadas on you, but I won’t be doing that. I am going to make this as painful as possible, and I’ll enjoy every single second of your suffering.”
“Malfoy, wait, let’s make a deal, yeah? You can have all the galleons in my vault-” Flint tried to say, his prior ire replaced with fear. He was interrupted by Draco’s cold laughter.
“I have more money than the gods, you imbecile. Yet even if I didn’t, that’s not why I’m going to make this hurt. I could be dirt poor, and I still wouldn’t accept a single knut from you, because that’s not the point. The point is that you PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY WIFE!” Draco bellowed, his voice echoing through the forest. Flint and Rowle appeared taken aback by his anger, while Greyback was snarling.
That was when Draco finally snapped, and Spectre took over.
With a quick flick of his wand, the ropes that bound Rowle turned into barbed wire, and very slowly started to tighten, as if replicating how the binds Rowle placed on Hermione had bit into her skin. His screams turned from panic to pain as the wire tore through his robes, then his flesh, and he began to bleed profusely. Another flick of Draco’s wand, and the sharp wire wrapped around his neck and tightened so quickly that it severed his head, spraying blood everywhere.
Then he turned to Greyback, who roared and thrashed against his binds harshly.
“It’s pathetic that you have to tie me up just to overpower me. A real wizard would take me on without anything holding me back!” Draco eyed the werewolf and then shrugged.
“I could untie you and still kill you with my eyes closed, Greyback. I just don’t want to. I have nothing to prove to you or anyone.”
“No? You don't want to show your little wife what a big scary wizard you are? I bet you can't even keep her satisfied. Why don't you let a real man take a turn-”
Draco levitated a large rock towards him, used an Engorgio to turn it into a boulder, and then swiftly dropped it on Greyback’s face. The werewolf began roaring in agony, and Draco repeated the action once more. On a normal human, it likely would have cracked their skull open and killed them instantly, but werewolves bones were stronger than witches and wizards. Although, it did cause quite a bit of damage. Draco then vanished the rock away, put his wand back in its holster and began to punch Greyback where the rock had done its damage.
That was when Hermione set up the silencing ward—since Flint would not stop screaming—and had asked Draco if he would be done soon. After their exchange and a few more minutes of Draco slamming his fist into Greyback, he finally stood and shook his hand out. All that was left of the werewolf’s head was a broken skull, blood, and bits of brain matter that covered the forest floor.
Hermione walked over to him and took his hand gently into hers, casting a healing spell over it. She didn't need a diagnostic to see that Draco had broken his knuckles—the flesh blue, swollen and split open. She cleaned off the bodily fluids from his skin, turned his hand over and kissed his palm, while keeping her eyes on him. It was rather cheeky of her, since as soon as this was dealt with she would not be sticking around. Not when she was so worried about Harry. Still, she enjoyed the way his breath stuttered and his pupils blew wide.
“MALFOY! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? ALL OF THIS BECAUSE WE CAUGHT YOUR FOUL WHORE?!”
Hermione was taken aback at how fast Draco spun around, stormed over to Flint, and slashed his wand. A loud snap echoed, and Flint's screams turned agonizing. Hermione hesitated only briefly before her curiosity got the better of her and she made her way over.
The loud snap had been Draco breaking Flint's lower jaw, and he was now reaching into his mouth, trying to grab his tongue. Once he had a firm hold of it, he pulled a sharp switchblade from his robes.
Hermione backed away again, not needing to witness how exactly one removes a tongue. By the time Flint had ceased his noise, Hermione had finished applying dittany to her arms, the reddened marks from the rope now a light pink that would be gone by the following day.
She watched Draco, who was still kneeling over Flint’s lifeless body, taking heaving breaths. While he would know she was there, there were times after he went on a violent bender that he would need a few moments to fully come back to himself from Spectre. After one minute, Hermione slowly walked to him, making enough noise for him to know she was approaching. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on a patch of his hair that wasn’t stained crimson.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He took another deep breath. Then fast as lightning he pulled her around him and moved her body to straddle him. She gasped at the sudden change in position, and he took advantage of that to kiss her, sneaking his tongue in her mouth. They snogged heatedly before she pulled back.
“Draco, I can't. Someone could find us, and I have to go make sure Harry is okay-”
“Fuck Potter,” he said between breaths as he sucked bruises into her neck, which was having a devastating effect on her knickers.
“I have to make sure he and Ron found somewhere to go-”
“I dont give a fuck about those wankers, not when they left you behind. You could have died. I should kill them myself,” he snarled into her neck before biting her harshly, then soothing the sting with a lave of his tongue. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from moaning.
“I told them to run! Ron tried to get me to take Harry-”
“And you didn't? Fuck, Hermione, you are going to be the death of me,” he paused his assault that had moved to her collarbone and rested his forehead against her chest. She threaded her fingers through his blood matted hair and forced him to look at her.
“I wasn't scared. I knew you would come when I summoned you.”
All that was left of the light grey of his eyes was a thin ring around his wide black pupils. Whether it was due to lust, or adrenaline from murdering three people in a short span, Hermione couldn't be sure.
Again he moved fast, and suddenly she was beneath him on the forest floor. Then he ground his hardened cock against her core, and this time she couldn't stifle the whine that slipped from her lips.
“Draco, I said no,” she tried, but he just rolled his hips against her again.
“I know you did, Hermione. But I don't think you really meant it. If I slipped a finger down your jeans, I wouldn’t find your knickers ruined? Soaking so thoroughly that they are almost see through? I think you are lying to yourself. You need this just as much as I do. You love it when I kill for you,” he rasped against her ear.
She breathed heavily at his words, knowing they were true and that she couldn't in good faith deny them. Besides, even if she did, he would just rip her jeans off and check.
He also wasn't wrong. They had not seen each other in weeks, and she wasn't sure when they would again. It felt too strange having a wank when her best friends were so close to her in the tent, and she was wound up.
She refused to respond, instead releasing a defeated huff. She felt him smile against her throat.
“Thats my girl,” he crooned.
“At least get rid of that,” she nodded her head towards the body of Flint without actually looking at the carnage. With a lazy wave of his hand, the body started to disintegrate, and another wave brought a gust of wind that blew the bits of Flint into the air away from them.
Hermione reached between them and hastily undid his belt and trousers. She shoved her hand down his pants and began stroking his hardened length. He groaned and trembled, and began kissing her again, rolling his tongue in her mouth.
She continued to pump him, twisting her wrist near his tip just like she knew he loved. After a moment he pulled her hand away and moved his own into her jeans. She wasn't even aware he had unbuttoned them. Another dark chuckle slipped from him when he found her soaked, just as he had predicted. His long middle finger slid into her easily, quickly followed by another, and he curled them, causing her to whimper.
“I shouldn't even let you come, not after the stunt you pulled, luring them away. Swear to me you will never do that again.” His voice was laced with venom. Hermione was pretty sure he was bluffing, as making her come was one of his favourite pastimes (his words). Also she wasn't sure how to respond exactly—neither could lie to each other without the other knowing, another result of their soul bond. She also knew she couldn't promise such a thing, as she would absolutely do it again if necessary.
“I’ll try to be more careful. Please, Draco, don't leave me like this,” she whined.
His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, before he pulled his fingers out of her. She cried at the loss, and momentarily worried he really would leave her a pathetic mess. But Draco kneeled, pushed his trousers down enough to release his heavy cock, and sat back on his heels. He gripped her hips and dragged her arse up onto his thighs, pulling her jeans down as he did. She thought he was going to slam into her, but instead he slowly pushed in, teasingly. When he was to the hilt he stayed there, and Hermione wiggled.
“I need you to move, Draco.”
“Move into the Manor,” he groaned as he began languid strokes.
“I can’t,” she replied in a breathy voice.
“Why not?” He removed one of his hands from her hip and began making a slow tight circle on her clit. She gasped and closed her eyes as the heat already began to build within her.
“You know why. I refuse to leave Harry and Ron alone out here. They need my help with Nagini and the other new Horcrux Tom made.”
“Then bring them,” he said with a groan. Hermione's eyes snapped open, his words pausing the rapidly approaching orgasm.
“You want Harry Potter to live in the same house as Vol-” she began to say, but he moved fast, leaned over her and slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened at the mistake she almost made.
“Did you really almost say his name for a second time today? Hermione, this is what I mean. You are exhausted. Potter is sick and weak. Where is the one place Tom would never think to look for the Chosen Git? Right under his—well, obviously not his nose since he doesn't have one—but you know what I mean.”
Hermione licked his hand. He smirked and removed it, and gave her a soft kiss before hovering over her.
“This would be mad. Even for your standards,” she said. Although she could admit it was an appealing idea. They would have more space, food, more potions, and better access to Nagini.
About a year ago, there was a targeted raid on three safe houses. Draco only just managed to get the information to them only minutes before. However one house didn't get the message in time, and about twelve Order members died or were captured. While they found the mole who had shared the locations of the safe houses, it made them realize that other people could be turned. Since then, all Order members were living in tents, moving frequently. Only Hermione, Harry, Ron, Kingsley, Minerva and Tonks met up once a month to discuss progress on the Horcrux hunt. And only at a location of Draco’s choosing, since he was rather paranoid when it came to Hermione’s safety.
“My wing is separate from all the others, and I already have secure wards up. No one can penetrate them unless they have my blood, and I don't plan on spilling a drop anytime soon. With mother and father dead, there is literally no one that could cross the boundary. I’ll add the three of you, and you can do all of your research and planning from there. And,” he pulled out almost entirely, before slamming into her again, a dark smirk on his face. Her back arched as a wave of heat overcame her once more. “Then I can do this every single night.”
Before she could answer, he began a brutal pace. He ripped her t-shirt down and started biting and licking her chest. She could no longer respond, only moan and grip his robes tightly.
After a few minutes he snuck his hand between them and circled her clit once more. She came soon after with a mewling cry, Draco quickly following behind her.
As she came down from her climax, she realized Draco was moving. He crawled down her body and stared intensely as his spend dripped down her. He met her gaze and winked, before he leaned in and started to feast on her like a man starved.
Hermione hadn’t been expecting it, and cried out as she squeezed her legs around his head. Draco stopped her, wrapping his arms around her legs, giving her inner thigh a sharp nip before he continued. She grappled for something to hang on to, one hand going into his hair and the other digging into the earth beneath them. In no time at all a second orgasm built. When he pushed his fingers in her, wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard, she screamed as her release washed over her.
He worked her through the aftershocks, then crawled back up her body and kissed her deeply. She could taste their combined spend as she laved into his mouth.
“So you’ll move in?” He asked against her lips, and Hermione couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Only if Ron and Harry agree, but I suspect they will consider it when I tell them they can sleep in real beds and eat warm meals.”
“I’m down. And are you done yet?” A voice sounded. Hermione jumped and covered her exposed chest. Draco sat up and whipped his wand out, shooting a stunner towards the direction it came. Ron jumped behind a tree as the spell just missed him. When he peeked back out he looked shocked, which was quickly replaced by a smug grin.
“Did you just miss me? The infamous Spectre didn’t hit his target? I can’t beli-” Ron’s gloating was interrupted by another stunner hitting him directly to the chest, and he crumpled to the ground.
“Draco!” She scolded, although couldn't hold back a smile.
“I can’t believe he snuck up on us.” He stood and righted himself before he reached down to help her up, adjusting her shirt for her and picking some twigs from her mane.
They wandered over to Ron’s unconscious form, Draco narrowing his eyes at her friend.
“I am already thinking of rescinding the offer for these two to join us.” Hermione smacked him in the arm, and he simply raised a brow at her in response.
“You wouldn't dare,” she challenged. He huffed and revived Ron, whose eyes shot open and glared up at Draco.
“Git,” he mumbled.
“What was that?” Draco snapped, and Ron raised his hands in surrender. Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron stood.
“Where’s Harry?” she asked with concern.
“Relax, Hermione. I brought him to Suffolk like you said, to some tiny medical building. I Imperioed the staff to care for him and not let anyone into the building until I get back-”
“You used an Unforgivable Curse on a muggle?” she asked incredulously, and Ron looked taken aback.
“I’m sorry, your husband brutally murdered three people in the last hour, but my actions are what push you over the edge? Besides, I came back as fast as I could to see if you were okay. Didn't expect to find you two going at it,” he mumbled the last part and averted his eyes.
“I’m mildly impressed, Weasley,” Draco said, before pushing his wand against Ron’s chin. “But if you leave her like that again, it won't be a stunner I hit you with.”
Ron clenched his jaw.
“Yeah, got it, Spectre,” Ron said sarcastically, very used to Draco's death threats. Hermione guessed they would only become more frequent with them moving into the manor. Draco lowered his wand, and Ron spoke again.
“Now that that’s settled, what's for dinner?”