Chapter 8

Her back relaxed on the rocking chair as she stared directly at the fireplace. Her high-heeled shoes were placed right next to her feet. Hermione closed her eyes as she tightened her grip on her rock glass. She was still wearing her reception dress when she decided to ascend to her bedroom and wait for Malfoy like the good wife that she has to be from then on.

The look on Astoria's face when Bellatrix revealed that she was supposed to be Malfoy's bride instead of Hermione in front of everyone. It was the same look on her face when Ron looked at her with utmost betrayal plastered all over his face. The hurtful look in his eyes when he switched his sight from her to Malfoy painfully squeezed her chest that night he when learned that she was obliged to marry Malfoy for the cost of the Order's freedom.

She has to abide by it. She is now a Malfoy - the wife of Draco Malfoy. The man who haunted her nightmares.

Hermione watched the fire gleam through her glass.

She smiled. Eyes glossed with tears. They were tears of acceptance. A bittersweet acceptance.

She heard the door crack open. Slow and uniform footsteps cruised towards her.

Hermione braced herself and chugged down the remaining drink in her glass. Hermione's face twisted into a disgusted expression from the strong taste of the alcohol. Her head pulsed as the firewhisky settled itself on her system. She massaged her head and rocked the chair as she did so.

"Firewhisky? You should've settled for champagne," said Malfoy.

Hermione let out a faint chuckle.

Malfoy walked over beside her, picking up the bottle of firewhisky that sat on the coffee table beside her.

"You've had too much." Said Malfoy and grabbed the empty rock glass that almost slipped off her grip.

"I only finished half of it," Hermione replied, her voice low and a bit playful.

"That's enough. You're drunk already." Malfoy informed calmly.

"No. I'm not." Hermione replied, though her cheeks heightened in red like tomatoes flushed by the amount of alcohol intake.

"Funny. That's what drunk people mostly say." Malfoy continued as he poured himself a drink from the same rock glass.

"Oh, I already drank from that -"

"So?" Malfoy questioned and ingested the drink in one sip.

"I see, you're not troubled to have the Mudblood's saliva in your mouth," Hermione replied, bored and apparently unbothered by anointing herself a Mudblood.

"I kissed you earlier on our wedding in front of everyone - it didn't poison me."

"You never know."

Hermione spent a few seconds staring at the fire dancing in front of her. She sighed, and intoxication started to glide the surface of her eyes.

Malfoy conjured a chair next to her. He sat comfortably on the black leather armchair, his arm resting on one of the armrests while the other held the rock glass that he filled with another shot of Hermione's firewhisky.

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione began, leaned her elbow on the armrest of her rocking chair, resting her chin on her palm, and shifted her position a bit to face him.

"Ask away."

"About what Bellatrix said... that you were supposed to marry Astoria. Is it true?"

She saw how an emotion crossed his face - but it vanished swiftly. His jaw clenched as he darted his sight down at his firewhisky.

He sank in silence.

Hermione smiled bitterly.

"And you told me to ask away -"

"It's true," Malfoy replied - chugging down his drink.

Hermione studied his face - he might look cold and bothered. But somewhere in his countenance, an emotion lingered, waiting to explode at some appointed time.

"You really love her, huh?" Hermione asked, facing the fireplace again - motioning for her chair to sway her gently.

"I loved her."

"Don't lie to me, Malfoy. I can see your regret. It's plastered all over your face." Hermione reached for the bottle since Malfoy got her glass.

"Why? Am I not permitted to unlove someone?" Malfoy asked, now glancing at Hermione.

"I didn't say that. You say you don't love her anymore - but I see you. I see that pain in your eyes - and eyes don't lie, Malfoy."

"Yours does." Malfoy countered.

"What do you mean?"

"I see you, doing your utter best to pretend I am someone when I kissed you earlier. I see you pretend that it was Weasley in front of you while you stood in your wedding dress."

Malfoy paused as he heaved a sigh.

She sat frozen as well. As far as she knew, it was the best way to accept things gradually, but having it said to her seemed to prick something in her heart.

"You act so bravely. You act like you already accepted me, but, in fact, you're just pretending to see him in me." He added, smiling faintly.

"It isn't lying." Hermione defended, then took a sip of firewhisky straight from the bottle.

"What is it then?"

He watched her intently. The way she gulped the alcohol, the way her hand gripped the bottle, the way her lips welcomed it, and the way her face distorted as the taste of it settled itself on her taste buds. He watched her as he waited for her answer. He never saw her in such view. In a white dress, shoes tossed on the floor, a firewhisky bottle in her hand, and her face filled with marital dolefulness.

"Goodness that's strong," Hermione complained.

Hermione leaned back, still holding the bottle. "It isn't lying. I'd rather call it, coping."

"Coping..." Malfoy repeated under his breath.

"We both know we don't like each other - thus, you can't it lying. I'm only coping, Malfoy. Are you?" She asked.

Malfoy smiled, then his lips thinned, fidgeting with the glass in his hand.

"Probably."

"I didn't know this was your idea of a honeymoon," Hermione started, giggling as the alcohol began to swing her heavy emotions away.

"I didn't know you still have the idea of a honeymoon," he replied almost laughing. "Is that the reason why you're drowning yourself with that?" He asked, pointing at the bottle in her hand.

"Why? Do you think I'm anticipating something to happen tonight?" Hermione responded in disbelief, yet holding back laughter.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, so you could easily pretend that I am Weasley." He set the glass on the table.

"I promise you, with all the books I've read, I wasn't thinking about that," said Hermione, raising her hands, swearing she was telling the truth.

To her surprise, Malfoy snatched the bottle from her and finished the remaining liquid.

"Well, that was supposed to be for me," Hermione whispered.

Hermione watched him as he drank the firewhisky like it was only water. His sleeves rolled up. Two buttons unclasped. His eyes shut, and his face gloomed with emotions she could scarcely comprehend. A bit of amusement greeted her as she watched him completely unbothered as he finished the bottle despite its strong taste.

Was it grief? Was he longing for the love he lost? Was it regret marrying her instead of his childhood sweetheart? Frustration with himself for being a coward and not fighting for the girl he truly adores? Because if he was, then that brings them to the same page.

Hermione wondered if Ron felt the same as Astoria.

She shook the thought off her and stood from her rocking chair, directed towards her bed when her knees lurched before she could manage a few steps onwards.

"Whoops - excuse me," Hermione chuckled as she tried to straighten her stance.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked - voice lushed with firewhisky.

"Bed? To cry and cope - then have some sleep - maybe?" Hermione replied, grinning like she wasn't downhearted deep inside.

She stumbled against the coffee table, knocking the bottle off of it - good thing Malfoy's reflexes swiftly caught it before it could shatter on the marble floor.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled and made her way towards her bed, swaying with her steps as she flowed across the floor.

"You better return to your bedroom, Malfoy. You won't like it when I cry for Ron until I fall asleep." Hermione laughed off.

The alcohol has sunk into her system, driving her sudden outburst of confidence.

Malfoy stood from his seat, following her unsteady steps.

Hermione collapsed on her unmade bed. She buried herself in the lump of cold sheets, curling herself into a ball.

The outburst of confidence dimmed down, replacing her heart with heavy emotions - the urge to cry snapped out of her. Her head seemed to constrict painfully from the inside the harder she attempted to contain herself from crying.

"Don't mind me I'm just coping," Hermione announced as though she sensed Malfoy standing beside her bed, watching her.

She nestled her tear-damped face on her favourite pillow and wept in there, unbothered by his presence. She was thankful for the alcohol kicking in - it gave her boldness to feel unmoved by the fact that he was there, observing her while she wept like a fighter who lost her battle.

"Why are you still here? Go back to your bedroom and - and cope by yourself." Hermione advised, drying the tears on her face.

"I don't think I am convinced enough to leave you alone like this," Malfoy replied, crossing his arms.

Hermione crawled off her bed, almost tumbling onto the floor as she tried to stand in front of him.

"Why? Do you find entertainment in watching me crumble like the pathetic loser I am? Crying over a red-headed boy on my wedding night?"

The words flowing out of her lips were beyond her control, but those words were sober thoughts awoken by the alcohol.

"Are you having fun?" Her voice finally broke after maintaining a strong tone in front of him, tears rolling freely as she met his gaze.

"No." He whispered as he looked down at her, piercing her tear-glossed eyes with his gaze.

"No. Not at all, Granger," he added, running his thumb under her eyes, gently wiping the tears that threatened to fall.

"This isn't the Granger I knew..." His thumb still ran softly - down her cheek. He traced her jawline as his eyes scanned her face.

"The Granger I know is headstrong - so damn headstrong." His hand held her chin, gently guiding her face into an angle.

Hermione's breathing paced down by the tranquillity of his voice. He managed to decelerate her rushed respiration, yet her chest still slammed inside her. The air was too deep to reach, she began to heave steadily, yet deeper to keep herself somewhat... calm. She tried to calculate the feelings swirling inside her - sensations she's never felt before. Feelings that burned in the wrong parts of her.

His thumb played with her chin for a while until he decided to snake his hand on her nape. Holding the structure of her nape on his palm as he drew her closer until her lips met his.

A strange type of heat travelled through Hermione's body. For a moment there, she was unsure of what to do with his lips against hers until he drove deeper, pulling her and setting her face into the angle he favoured. He grasped her hair as he tilted her head back, and his other hand landed on the arc of her waist, caressing her as their skin burned under the thin fabrics covering them.

Hermione gasped, allowing Malfoy entrance to her lips. There wasn't a chance he let loose. His tongue met hers, earning a stifled moan from her.

Malfoy broke the kiss and looked at her, a smirk appeared on his lips when she followed him as he leaned back.

He stared at her lips, they were soft and sweet, and the faint flavour of firewhisky made it even more tempting - too fucking tempting.

She stared back at him, and he knew what was swimming in the surface of her eyes. It was the very first time he saw her eyes burned with lust.

"What are we doing?" Hermione whispered as Malfoy rested his forehead against hers, planting kisses on the back of her hands.

"Coping," he replied.

"This is your chance to tell me to leave and leave you alone because once I fucking start again, I can't guarantee I would be able to sto-"

Malfoy was cut into his words as Hermione tugged him towards her, colliding their lips again. This time she welcomed him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. His hands ran all over her body, touching and squeezing the parts of her he dreamed of ever touching.

Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck as she tiptoed to greet his soft lips. She could taste the firewhisky between their kisses, drowning her even more.

Malfoy assisted her as he slowly lay her on the soft mattress behind them.

He left her lips, focusing on other parts of her he ought to taste. He kissed her cheek and the corner of her right eye. Malfoy traced her jawline with his tongue, sending shivers down Hermione's spine and hot tension down her lower abdomen.

A hint of irritation ignited in his face as her dress obstructed his access.

Malfoy lifted her to sit down, unzipping her dress until he successfully freed her from it. He tossed it somewhere. He feasts on his view of her. Her skin gleamed with the gentle orange light of the fireplace - glistening with sweat. She was more than what he pictured in his mind. She was gorgeous. The word itself seemed to take the form of Hermione Granger.

Malfoy pulled his buttoned shirt over his head - her face flushed red as she watched him topless on top of her. She has never witnessed someone like that before, not even Ron.

He dived back into her, kissing the mounts of her chest until he reached her nipples.

Hermione's shivered under the contact.

He devoured her until his cock grew hard that it began to ache. She was too much - too much that he couldn't get enough of.

Malfoy couldn't blame Weasley for being her guarding her too much. He could build gates around her. She was undoubtedly admirable - no, she was more than that. Hermione Granger was fucking lovable and fuckable.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

He sucked on her breasts, determined to leave marks of him on her soft skin while he kneaded on the other -pinching on the nipples that made her squirm with too much sensation under his warmth.

He went back up to kiss her, and he could see how lust-driven her face was. Her eyes gazed back at him with fuming blaze and passion. She looked so fucking stunning without that despair and yearning in her eyes.

He sank into her, and their lips danced with the same intensity and rhythm.

Hermione nibbled on his lower lip, which set him on a bigger fire.

Malfoy pulled away, kneeling in front of her - he held onto her knees and spread her legs apart.

His silver-grey eyes seemed to dim upon the sight of her knickers soaked with her wetness.

Malfoy caressed her legs to her inner thigh until he reached the edge of her knickers. His fingers rubbed on her wetness. The soaked fabric seemed to obstruct his touch - she wanted it off.

As if she said her out loud, Malfoy pulled her knickers down her soft legs and tossed them someplace on the floor.

He went back to her, descending his face down her legs that waited open for him.

Hermione watched as the blonde between her legs settled himself. The moment his thumb pressed on her throbbing nerves, she almost lost it. No one has ever touched her there before. Her toes curled buried into the sheets as she tried to control her urge to squirm.

It was the slow and long torturous strokes he did on her that almost drove her out of her mind - then his lips trailed down there, nearly shutting her system due to the sudden pleasure that dropped on her. His thumb played with her clit as his tongue made its way inside her.

Hermione's head went wild with thoughts of how she never knew it would feel like that?

Her moans chimed like music to Malfoy's ears. The way her body grinding against his face as he sucked and licked on her added to the painful anticipation of fucking her.

He flicked his tongue on her, consuming her wetness like a parched servant for her addicting taste.

Hermione's fingers tangled in his blonde hair as she pushed his face deeper for pleasure.

Malfoy lifted from below and dipped down to kiss her again, allowing her to taste herself from his lips. "Fuck, I could eat you all day," he whispered between his pants as he kissed her.

Hermione broke off the kiss and stared up at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, softly, stroking her cheek in one hand.

Hermione rolled over with one hand clasped on her mouth while the other clutched a sheet onto her chest, covering her nakedness.

She crawled off the bed and dashed towards the bathroom.

The bathroom door barged open, and instantly she dropped onto her knees, her head dipping down towards the toilet. Her stomach stirred up - she felt sick from the amount of alcohol she had that night.

She was too sick and nauseated to notice that Malfoy followed her until he held her hair up and patted her back as he kneeled beside her.

"I'm - I'm never drinking - again." She muttered, almost crying as she continued to throw up. Her gut and throat felt spicy from all the firewhisky. Hermione wasn't the type of a drinker who could handle shot after shot of alcohol. It was too much for her body to manage.

"How are you feeling?" Malfoy asked as he tied her hair in a messy bun using his wand, twisting her curls gently in the length of it.

"Better," Hermione replied - her voice sounded adenoidal and raspy.

"Let's get you back to bed," Malfoy suggested. "Can you walk?" He asked.

Hermione shook her head disregarding the pain in her pride as she asked for assistance. Her head was pounding, and the surroundings seemed to spin - standing would even make her more nauseous.

She flushed her mess in the toilet and clung her arm to Malfoy's shoulder so he could carry her properly.

He held her like how a bride should be held on the night of her wedding. Malfoy liked the way how she felt against his chest as he carried her toward her bed. She was warm - too soft and serene while she clung to him. Heavy-eyed and delicate.

"Have some water first." He ordered as he passed her a glass of warm water.

He watched her doze off as he placed the glass on her bedside table. A moment of contemplation flickered in his mind about whether he should dress her up or allow her to sleep naked - he doesn't want to wake her either.

He sighed and strode towards her closet. Malfoy summoned her most cosy pyjamas with the flick of his wand to save himself from foraging all of her drawers.

A rose gold silk pair of pyjamas landed in his hands.

Malfoy tucked her in and permitted himself to study her face while she slept. He finally decided to leave her alone when she seized his wrist before he could turn his back on her.

"Stay..." She mumbled, eyes blinking wearily.

He doesn't even know if she was awake or if she was only dreaming about Ronald Weasley.

Malfoy gently unclasped her hand from his wrist and placed her arm in a comfortable position.

"Sleep well." He whispered and kissed her forehead then he headed outside to his bedroom.

Malfoy shut the door behind him. He was just about to stroll back to his bedroom when he saw Astoria walking towards him.

"Draco," Astoria said as she eyed the door of Hermione's bedroom, then at him.

"Tory," he replied.

"I-"

"What are you still doing here?" He asked as he walked past her dismissively.

"I went to look for you in your bedroom - how dumb of me to not figure out that you must be in her bedroom," Astoria sneered bitterly.

"Why? What's so important about your business that you went to look for me in my bedroom on the night of my wedding?" Malfoy asked, keeping his voice low.

Astoria froze like she never expected him to speak to her that way.

"I just want to give you this," Astoria handed over a small red velvet box.

"I'm sorry. I should've returned that to you earlier - to be honest, I thought of keeping that to myself, then I realized it's pointless."

The ring he gave her when he proposed to her eight months ago.

"You can keep it," he replied coldly.

"And what? Stare at it to remind me of how you just threw our engagement off because of some stupid mission?" Astoria's voice began to grow with rage.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed upon hearing her remarks.

"We both know our break up isn't just about my mission," Malfoy replied with utmost displease.

"I already explained- "

"Too late," he replied and proceeded to his bedroom.