AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story was one of three "one-shots" that won a poll survey I put to the readership, asking them what Christmas-themed stories they wanted me to write for the holiday season (2010). Out of twelve options to choose from, the prompt that fans chose as their second favorite was: "DARK/ANGST DRAMA genre - Captive at Malfoy Manor (Voldemort won the war)". So, this story below fulfills that request, and is dedicated to all who participated in the poll! I hope this story meets with your approval!

REVISION 2.0 (as of April 25, 2011)

STORY DETAILS: A Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger story. story contains a twist, but for the sake of not spoiling anything, I will say that it is novel compliant up until The Final Battle of Hogwarts (May 2, 1998). After that, it's an Alternate Universe (and characters are a little OCC [out of character] as a result of the plot). THIS IS A DARK/ANGSTY STORY WITH A FLUFFY/SAPPY/ROMANTIC ENDING (it will all make sense once you read).

TIMELINE: Christmas, 2000

CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy + Binky the house elf (an original character for the fic)

SUMMARY: After an evening of imbibing too much Firewhiskey, Draco Malfoy decides that on Christmas, he should give himself what he wants most – Hermione Granger, the witch he's claimed as his war prize and enslaved. He's determined to make the woman his in every way possible… even if it's against her will. Will the gift of her love be enough to change his deviant side?

RATING: M+ (NC-17 –sexual situations, including explicit non-consensual sex; profanity; alcohol consumption). WARNING: DRACO IS SEXUALLY-DEVIANT AND AMORAL FOR MOST OF THIS FIC – YOU ARE FOREWARNED!



December 24, 2000 (night)

Draco took a long draw on his Firewhiskey, staring with enthralled interest into the magically-lit flames in the hearth before him. They jumped about like little legions of hell tongues, a myriad of warm colors interspersed with the occasioned bluish tint, crackling like a real fire, minus the cinder and smoke. Leaning his head back in the cushions of the sofa, he realized that he'd had entirely too much to drink tonight, and knew he should probably seek his bed now, but some nagging, elusive detail kept him awake. Like an itch that needed scratching, his mind turned it over and over, trying to expose that nugget of information that remained just beyond his intoxicated mind's grasp.

The clock over the mantle struck midnight.

"It's Christmas."

Shaking his head as the dark-fuzziness of exhaustion, coupled with inebriation, momentarily overtook him, Draco looked over at his sole companion in this vast, empty house with confusion. "What?"

Dark-amber eyes glimmered bronze with the reflecting firelight as they stared at him in curious anticipation. "It's Christmas today. Right now, in fact."

Enlightenment. Maybe that's what had been bothering him - he'd forgotten the day. "Is it?" he dryly snarked. "Well, I guess I should give myself a present. How about you get to serve me today?"

The witch snorted, showing irreverence for his higher station in life, undaunted by the fact that she was seated on her knees awaiting his next command, as required. "How benevolent of you - except you've forgotten that, as your slave, I do that every day."

"Not like this, you haven't," he warned her, viciously smirking. He'd had a really rough year, and Granger hadn't stopped needling him since she'd gotten here six months ago. Theo recommended he beat the willfulness out of her, but Draco had actually found her witty repartee, ingenuity and fearlessness rather amusing most days. If not for the Slave Brand above her heart, he was sure that by now she'd have stolen his wand, turned it on him and ran back to whatever warren she'd previously gone to hide, thinking up new and inventive ways to raise her defeated Order of the Phoenix from the ashes. It was just a good thing he so thoroughly controlled her. "Come here." His servant made to stand, but he stopped her with a sharp denial.

"On your hands and knees. I want you to show me proper deference, princess."

Her righteous fury never failed to arouse him. The tight set of her jaw, the firming of those bowed, pink lips, and that fiery glimmer of dangerous wroth sparkling in her eyes (promising a most painful retribution for him down the line) seriously turned him on. Such beauty coupled with her weighty, sleek curls that fell in waves to her hips, and her ankle-length, long-sleeved, white muslin chemise molding to her soft curves, and she looked very much like a vengeful goddess straight out of Greek mythology.

His pants were suddenly much too tight.

"Crawl to me," he bid, setting his half-full crystal drinking glass on the top of his thigh and patiently waiting for her to obey.

She'd have no choice but to do as he instructed, as the Slave Brand would assure her compliance to his every command… but oh, how she fought that magical compulsion upon her will every time! With malicious enjoyment, he watched that tell-tale crease appeared in her forehead and her brows lower in concentration as she worked to deny him. Her throat jerked as she swallowed hard, and her breathing kicked up, making her slim form shake with effort.

Bloody hell, but her struggles against the magic he'd cast upon her was a heady aphrodisiac to his starved senses! True, it had been far too long since he'd had a woman, and Granger did things to him that no other female seemed capable with merely a scathing look or a casually-tossed insult. Having resisted her temptations for half a year, keeping his distance, not wanting to step into that inescapable circus of the depraved alongside the other Death Eaters, he decided that tonight, he'd had enough playing the martyr to his physical needs and deserved a reward. It was the holiday for gift-giving, after all.

Fully embracing his darker half, he crooked a finger at her, knowing that this act alone would be enough to break her resolve. Dropping to her palms, facing him with savage impertinence, she crawled the several feet between them, stopping when he gave her leave with a command. They stared each other down in silence for several minutes, considering the other.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, trying to control his libido's reaction when he watched her eyes widen and saw in them the truth. Her quaking became more a thing of fear then, and less of anger as she silently gaped at him. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" He handed her his crystal glass. "Drink this."

Even at such a simple request, she fought him, her hand moving against her determination towards the alcohol. He watched as she raised the glass to her lips, and followed the convulsing movements of her throat as she downed the contents. Empty now, he took the container from her hand and using non-verbal magic, levitated it back to the table where it had come from earlier.

"How far have you gone with a man? Tell me."

Truthfully, he was curious, as Granger had been nicknamed "Miss Iron Knickers" back in school by all the boys. But Draco knew that just because a girl didn't give her cherry up didn't mean she didn't suck cock on her knees in broom closets. That had been Pansy's favorite move, after all.

He watched with great fascination as sweat beaded on her upper lip as she continued to contest the spell of her servitude. It was a useless struggle, of course. Voldemort had invented this curse, and he'd taught it to all of his Death Eaters to allow them to control the population of his subjugated kingdom as they deemed fit. It was of the darkest magic, binding Master to Servant with a sharing of blood, much as the Dark Mark itself. In all this time, Draco had only ever used this enchantment once – on Hermione Granger. He had saved her life that day she'd been brought before him for breaking the new law forbidding any but loyalists to the Dark Lord from carrying a wand, agreeing to make this woman his servant instead of sentencing her to death, and so now she was his to do with as he willed. That included fucking, if he wished it - which he most assuredly did.

"Tell me, Granger. I want to know."

Expelling a deep breath she'd been holding, she was compelled to answer. "I kissed Viktor Krum twice, but he lived too far away to pursue anything, and I kissed Ron a few times before we realized how awkward it was and gave it up."

Holy shit, she was as seriously pure as the driven snow!

"You're going to do a lot more than kiss me tonight, you know that," he rather bluntly informed her.

"You plan to force me then," she gritted between clenched teeth. "That's evil."

He barked a mad laugh and gestured around him. "And what makes you think I don't qualify for such a label?" He lifted the sleeve on his left arm and turned it about, showing off the black tribal skull and snake tattoo. "I'm the very definition of evil, Granger. I think you've just forgotten because I've been so nice to you since you came back into my life."

She scoffed. "Nice? Hardly."

Reaching out, he grabbed a hunk of her hair and pulled tight, drawing her up on her knees, forcing her to brace her hands on his thighs to balance as their faces came together. "I could do to you what I've witnessed other Death Eaters do to their captives, Granger," he hissed in her face. "I could put a collar around your neck and parade you naked before my friends. I could rape and beat you in front of them, or let them rape and beat you instead. I could use all manner of painful, dark spells against you just for kicks – torturous magic that makes my Aunt Bella's Crucio a thing of child's play. But I don't. I treat you like a precious gift, don't I? And I don't let anyone say a single word to besmirch your character, because I consider you mine."

He let her go rather abruptly, and she fell back onto her bum, her palms behind her catching her fall. Tears pricked her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her face was positively incredulous. "Why didn't you stand up for those people who were victims?" she condemned him with barely a whisper. "You could have stopped their torture and death, Malfoy!"

Yes, he could have, but he'd also be as dead as a fish under a hooked, serrated knife. She was so naïve as to not understand that. "Do you really think there's anything I could do to stop this madness?" he bitterly smirked. "You've got the wrong guy, Granger. I'm no hero, like your Saint Potter. There's no great destiny waiting for me out there, no special magic for me to call upon to save the day. In the grand scheme I've had to accept the fact that I'm an insignificant puppet, living alongside a rotted pile of corpses and praying not to become one of them too soon… doing whatever it takes, in fact, to assure that doesn't happen. In your eyes, I know that makes me a coward – and you'd be right in believing that about me." He gazed at her with a hard heart, his desire to punish her naivety, to teach her the truth egging him on. "Now come back here."

How glorious she was when she mentally battled against him again, her tears dripping down her cheeks, knowing what was coming and unable to even prevent her own participation in her sexual initiation. Returning to the kneeling position before him, her hands on his thighs, she refused to look at him, keeping her eyes straight ahead on his chest. That was fine with him… for now.

"Unbutton my shirt."

With trembling hands, she did as he asked, pulling the bottom hem from his trousers to reach the final buttons.

"Remove my belt."

Another small hesitation and a small grunt from her made him smile.

"Hard to resist, isn't it?" he knowingly, wickedly grinned. "You should try the Dark Mark sometime."

"Never!" she spat, and her fingers fell to his waist and unbuckled, then pulled his belt from its loops. He took it from her and tossed it to the side of the couch.

"Keep going, pretty slave," he leered, amused by her mental wrestling. "Unbutton and unzip me. That's it. Now take me out of my pants."

When he sprung free, and made her remove all of the rest of his clothing, he had her return to her knees before him. He held his hard length in his left hand, stroking up and down. "Put your hand here," he instructed, forcing her to join him in his pleasurable activity, resting his fingers over hers to guide them. "Mmmm, yeah, feels good."

Granger closed her eyes, her entire face and neck suffused with blood, her breathing kicking-up with her discomfort.

"No, no, princess," he gently chided. "You have to look at what you do to me."

Her lids peeled open and she was made to watch as his foreskin folded back in his growing excitement, revealing his purple-pink crown, which was now weeping with pre-seminal fluid. He taught her how to wipe it over his length as they continued.

"Not wet enough," Draco determined. "I think I'm going to need you to put your mouth on me." His witch looked up at him in shocked surprise and fervently shook her head. He countered by decisively nodding. "Oh, yes. I want you to suck my cock, Granger. Go on, wrap those pretty, pink lips around my dick and kiss it."

Whimpering as her head lowered against her desire, her mouth opened and suddenly, he was sinking inside that warm cavern, feeling her tongue twirl around his shaft. Guiding her slowly - as this was obviously her first time giving head - he talked her through the experience, teaching her how to do this right for him. Brushing her hair out of the way, he watched as she went low, and sucked hard on the way back up, hollowing her cheeks. "Fucking amazing," he sighed, leaning back into the couch and enjoying the sensation. "I knew your mouth was talented in more ways than one."

In a very short while, it became too much pressure for him, though, and he eased her up, pulling her away. "Stand up and take your chemise off."

Even as she stood, she was shaking. "We could stop now," she bargained. "Right here, before things go too far."

"Take. It. Off. Nice and slow, princess. Give me a show," he bid, slowly stroking himself to give just the right stimulation to keep him hard. "That's right, don't hurry. Run your hands over your thighs and hips." He watched with growing anticipation as her golden body finally came into view, covered only by her lingerie. "Nice. Now take your bra off and show me what you're hiding under there."

Reaching behind her back, she unhooked the white, cotton piece and tossed it to the floor at his behest. Slytherin's rod, she had the nicest tits! They were round, firm, high, with rosy nipples that were already taut from the chilled air.

The hand on his cock sped up a bit. "Your knickers next - lose them."

Thumbs hooked into the edging of the plain, white cotton panties, and she slowly removed those for him as well.

"You're bare," he replied with some shock. That Gryffindor's uptight, virgin Princess had a naughty streak was totally unexpected.

Eyes lowered to the ground, her body shaking uncontrollably, she made to cover her privates up with her hands, but he stopped her with a simple command.

"Come here."

Two steps and her knees were touching his.

"Straddle me."

The air was scented with her perspiration and his arousal as she stood there, quaking, trying to deny him.

Surprising him again, she actually managed to take a step backwards instead, nearly brought to her knees from the concerted effort of denying the Master-Slave spell. That shouldn't have been possible. It meant that when he fused the brand onto her skin, he hadn't been as serious about forcing her to become his as he should have been. If he'd fucked her at the same time as he'd branded her, as every other Death Eater was wont to do with their personal slaves, and combined their come with the blood magic, he'd have fully owned her. Now, it seemed, he was going to have to contend with her disobedience.

Making his feet, he predatorily circled her, shucking his shirt away at the same time as he came up behind her and brought their naked bodies together. "You would defy me?" he murmured against her throat, bending his head to her ear. "I'll have to punish you now, Granger."

Sliding one hand around her waist, the other skimmed down her spine, to the sway of her back, curving around her buttocks. Her skin was as soft as he'd imagined, and lightly smelled of rose-scented soap. "Go to the Westover chaise lounge and kneel on the cushion, facing away from me."

Moving out of his embrace, she crossed to the opposite side of the room, where the lounger was situated and assumed the position he required. Her creamy, round arse tempted him in this position, and between her legs, he spied her sweet, shaved pussy waiting for a good stuffing. It was a delicious sight and he took a moment to revel in the fact that he had Hermione Granger right where he'd always wanted her.

Picking up his belt from the couch and crossing to her, he stood behind where she couldn't see. Not liking that arrangement one bit, he silently summoned his wand to his hand and waved away the front of the chaise lounge so that it was an open, flat surface. Then, he conjured a huge mirror to stand before them. The scandalized look on her face as she understood her ultimate fate was priceless - and made him harder than granite. "I'm going to spank you now for daring to disobey," he confirmed it for her, placing his wand up on the nearby mantle for safe keeping. "I want you to watch in the mirror and count for me each strike."

Outraged, she threw her contempt at his reflection.

He folded the belt over and raised it, poised above her flawless rump, grinning. "Ready?"

He struck her with not a lot of pressure, using this as more a means to humble than to hurt. Her gasp of surprise was followed by a sneer, though. "One," she snarled at him.

Gods, he loved that sass! Theo was so wrong; it would be a crime to beat the willfulness from her, because her spirit is what made Granger so attractive. He smacked her again, and again, and again… With each whack, he made her pretty ass blush for him a deeper red. By the tenth whap, there were standing tears in her eyes, and she cursed him for a cur as she bit out the final number.

Tossing his belt to the side, he soothingly rubbed her cheeks. "Did that sting, princess? Well, now at least we're even for third year."

Turning her head to the side, she refused to look at him, and it was clear to all and sundry that she hated him just then.

A moment's triumph was all he allowed himself to gloat over that little fact, though, for the darker side of his personality did not find her temporary dislike to be enough. It needed her to hate him forever. It wanted to drive an abiding emotional chasm between them that she could never dare attempt to cross again. It wanted her to hurt until she cried and swore undying loathing for him… Because it knew, that of all the people he'd ever met, that Hermione Granger could be the one person who could draw all of the poison from his soul. She could infect him… change him. She could destroy it, and make him better. If he let that happen, all of his plans would have to be altered – like this, tonight. He would have to stop this madness and let her go…

No, he had no intention of stopping until he'd had Granger in every way he'd ever dreamed. He'd waited for her too long, wanted her too much.

Enticingly, he ran his fingers over her hips and rear, finally dipping between her legs and touching that extremely soft flesh, parting the folds and caressing her clit. His witch gasped and looked up at him in the mirror, the fear back, mingling with the anger. "Don't you dare!" she panicked. "Don't you dare make me desire my own rape!"

Purposefully licking his fingers, he brought them down and pierced her virgin canal with two of them, keeping his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. Instantly, she tried to slam her legs shut, but from this angle, it did little good. Slowly working her up, he did something then that was absolutely evil:

"I command you to enjoy what I do to you, my pretty slave."

Granger shook her head, true terror in her eyes now.

Establishing a rhythm that was sure to make her wet, he played with her clit at the same time as fingering her, gently opening her up. "Oh, yes, Granger. You're going to come for me when I bid you to, you're going to like it when I fuck you in every hole, and when I'm done with you, you're going to want me even more."

She screamed behind her teeth in frustration even as her bottom pushed back against his hand at the same moment, and a rush of fluid coated him. Her arousal overwhelmed her system in seconds, sending chills upon her flesh, causing the blood to rush to her face, making her moan in a deep, husky tone that had his cock straining and weeping. He watched her in the mirror as her arms shook, and that wealth of hair sexily slid off one shoulder to curtain over one side of her body. Her nipples went taut, becoming sharp, eager points, begging to be suckled. Her mouth parted, her tiny tongue poked out to lick her lips. A sheet of sweat broke out over her face and neck. And her eyes… gods, her eyes were magnificent, shining, dark globes of sin that called to him as they met his stare in the reflective glass.

Never in his life had Draco ever wanted a woman as much as in that moment.

Kneeling behind her, he withdrew his fingers and grabbed her hips, pressing his mouth into her thatch, encouraging her to go down on her elbows to give him a better angle for access. Her pussy was gorgeous – full lips, rosy red, a sweet, little clit, and a virgin, unsullied hole. He lapped at it all, tasting her addictive flavor, inhaling her scent and committing it to memory for always.

Granger's cries were becoming more desperate as he tickled her little bundle of flesh. Reaching between them, he caressed her breasts, continuing his assault of her lower lips with his tongue and mouth, entering her canal and sweeping up inside. As she teetered on the edge, he pulled away and stood up behind her again, gripping her waist tight. "Do you want me to fuck you now?" he asked, knowing full well she was desperate for release. Gripping his cock in his hand, he rubbed it back and forth on her, teasing. "What do you think?"

It took her three tries to speak around her panting. "I'm not on a potion or pill or anything. I'll get pregnant."


He reached for his wand on the mantle and cast the spell to prevent pregnancy on her… and an Aphrodisiac Charm on himself for good measure, wanting to make the most of tonight. It was Christmas, after all, and this was his gift to himself. Replacing his wand, he returned to torturing her with his rock solid dick at her entrance, gently poking. "Now what do you think? Ready for me, yet?"

She shook her head. "Not like this, please."

Well, clearly she needed a bit more stimulation to become motivated. He could certainly give her that. Grinning like a shark at her in the mirror, he stepped back a bit. "Turn over and lie back."

He watched her struggle again, but she eventually turned over for him, doing as he wished.

"Spread your legs wide open."

He sat down between them when she did as he required, resting his cock right on top of her lower lips in an unspoken claim of ownership, and smirked.

"Tell me the truth: have you ever masturbated, Granger?"

Compelled to answer, she nodded her head, her breathing becoming labored again. "You're a perverse human being, you know," she lamely offered.

"Show me now," he ignored her and instead instructed, holding his penis in his hand away from her and lightly stroking up and down between her wet labia. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself, but you're not to come. Not yet."

Tiny hands moved to her clit; her left hand pushed her flesh to the side, while her right began running in slow circles around the little bud. Her eyes closed and she exhaled.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered, not wanting to interrupt the show, but dying to know what she fantasized about while fiddling herself.

"I'm not telling," she vindictively denied him.

Draco's erection was starting to become rather painful; he'd need satisfaction soon. "Yeah, you are. Tell me what you fantasize about when you touch yourself." He pierced her below with a single finger again, slowly stroking in and out to entice her.

Granger moaned and tilted her head back. "My lover comes home, desperate to see me. I'm reading on the couch when he appears and rips the book from my hands and tosses it away. Pulling me up, he bends me over the couch and flips up my skirt. I'm not wearing knickers, because I've been waiting for him all day." Her body was becoming absolutely soaked with her arousal, her juices coating his hand as he rhythmically continued stretching her open, preparing her. This, in turn, was making Draco's erection positively pound with the need to be up in there, too. He stroked himself faster and harder with his free hand, preparing to spill over with her.

"Does the idea of him fucking you from behind do it for you?" he asked, grunting as the lava inside his balls built to a crescendo.

She shook her head. "That he's so desperate for me is what makes me go wild. I'm so hot inside and out as he opens my legs and lifts me, entering me. He tells me he loves me with each thrust. We're both so frenzied for each other that it doesn't take much." Her legs began quaking and she opened her eyes, staring right into his soul. "I'm… I'm…"

Draco nodded, taking his hand away and replacing it with his cock, tilting his hips forward in preparation. "Come for me."

Crying out with her ecstasy, she did as he bade…

…and he entered her hard and fast at that moment, coming right along with her, breaking through her virginity at the same time.

Her hands gripped his wrists and dug in, as she simultaneously experienced both pleasure and pain, keening from the dual sensation. Draco was too much in Heaven to notice how sharp her little nails were, as he exploded inside of her, his hips surging in and out with each burst of his seed. "Oh, Gods… oh, fuck!" he swore, never having orgasmed so hard in his life. "Yes… oh, fuck, yes!"

When the wave eventually passed over them both, the charm was still upon him, greedily driving his libido back up. For her, it would merely be a matter of a command to get her rearing to go again. But first…

He was looming over her, his movements having shoved her hips back, allowing her legs to rest on the tops of his thighs, and so it was that he caught the tear tracks down the sides of her cheeks, and the blood upon her bottom lip, where she'd bitten it too hard. Her lids were scrunched up in pain. "Look at me," he bid, and she had no choice but to do as he wished. "You will not feel pain anymore from what we just did. You will only feel pleasure and sexual need rising in you again. I command you to enjoy our time together."

Instantly, her eyes glazed with wanton heat again, and the strain around her eyes melted away.

"Look down between us."

She did as he pulled out of her, so they both could see her virgin blood coating his pale length. "See that, Granger? You're really all mine now." Reaching down, he gathered some of that blood and brought it to his lips, licking it. It was salty, tangy - different in flavor from the blood on her lips as he bent to kiss them.

To his surprise, her arms came about him, pulling him down, even while her hips thrust up into him. Excited by her participation, ensorcelled as it was, he took her again, and this time, they were fucking each other hard when they both came.

Panting, he leaned against her neck and sucked hard, leaving a love bit. "More." He demanded, gripping her around the waist and pulling her up so she straddled him. "Ride me," he growled, and began moving her up and down his length, bouncing her hard on him. She ground down on him with fierce longing, urging him on with adorable mewling. "That's it, my princess. Shag me good."

Bloody hell, this was amazing! Why had he waited so long to take her?

They came together again too soon, scratching and biting at each other like animals, and still it wasn't enough. Flipping her over onto her knees, he came at her from behind and watched her face in the mirror as he drove her into another climax, and then again, holding back his own with masochistic glee. Pulling out, he came around the front of her and shoved his cock back into her mouth, requiring her to suck it hard, and then to swallow his come when he was ready to go off.

As he pulled out, still as hard as stone from the Aphrodisiac Charm, she stared up at him with anger. "I'm going to get you back for this, you know."

He couldn't help it; his naughty smirk wound its way up the side of his cheek and he grinned like the fecking Cheshire Cat. "As long as it's this kind of revenge, my pretty slave, I'll let you do it to me." He bent down and kissed her, sharing the flavor of his semen on her tongue and moaning in pleasure, knowing he'd been the first man to come here, too.

Summoning his wand again, he conjured some lubrication. Having her hop up, he exchanged places with her, sitting on the edge of the lounger. Slathering his cock and her arse with it, he bade her squat over him, facing the mirror as he lined his tip up with her back entrance. "Relax and breathe," he coached her as he brought her down on him, holding his penis stiff until several inches were buried inside. "That's it, Granger. Slide over me, nice and easy."

When she fully sat upon him, he tilted her back against his chest and widened his legs, forcing her to look at them so intimately connected. "See? I've got you here, too. Every hole, like I promised." Scourgifying his hands with a quick spell, he set the wand to buzz and began gently rubbing it across her nipples, holding still below, leaving her impaled upon him.

"You said you wanted your man to desperately want you," he reminded her as his wand naughtily played with her tits, making them stiff and aching for suckling. "Well, I do. I've wanted you for years, Granger," he admitted, catching her eye in the mirror. "I watched you grow-up at school, by sixth year wishing things were different between us. Sometimes, I even followed you around the castle without you knowing it, hoping I'd catch you alone. It never worked out, but I wished for it, even then." He leaned forward and bit the bend in her throat with just enough pressure to make her shiver. "When I saw you six months ago, I knew it was fate. I made you mine so the others couldn't take you away again. It's taken me six months to work up the nerve to touch you in this way, and now I'm never giving this up." His wand trailed down her belly to her clit, gently tickling her. "I'm going to fuck you as often as I want, in any way I want, and you're never going to deny me."

"Is that all I am to you?" she gasped, her hips moving on their own in desperate need for release, her climax ready to overtake her once more. "Even if my blood is different from yours, is there no room in your heart to care for me someday? Can you never love a Mudblood?"

Just as she was becoming unhinged for him, he whispered the truth in her ear. "Too late, my princess. I already do."

After her orgasm rocked through him, he fucked her deep and good from behind, spilling his seed into her arse twice before pulling out and cleaning up with his wand. Then, he dragged her to the bed and spent the rest of the night until dawn taking her in every way he knew. He lavished every attention upon her, cajoling her responses, and when he finally stopped commanding and started asking for her reciprocation, she willingly gave it, just as he'd anticipated, her body fully enslaved to his now, the magic of the Master-Servant bond fully mated with the exchange of their sexual release and her innocent, virgin blood.


Draco woke up later that morning with a full-blown hang-over, naked, and having come all over himself from one hell of a wet-dream. His thighs were coated with semen, as if he'd released several times in succession. After wiping the goo off with the sheets and stumbling to the loo to relieve his bladder, he found his wand on the table next to his bed and used it to rid himself of his headache and nausea, then worked to piece together the night's events in his head.

The last thing he could clearly remember was the midnight chime going off and Granger telling him it was Christmas. The rest of it was really hazy, interspersed with images that seemed more dream than reality.

Looking about, he saw no evidence of having had a night of wild sex. There was no pile of haphazardly discarded clothing, no mirror, not even a chaise lounge – a piece of furniture he knew he didn't own in the first place. What he did find, however, was a mostly empty decanter of Firewhiskey and his drinking glass sitting on the same table as his wand had been earlier. His clothing from the night before was neatly folded and lay on the unoccupied and tidy side of his bed – the side that lacked all warmth, telling him that he'd slept alone.

So, there had been no night of debauched sexual ecstasy then, no taking Granger's virginity, no claiming her as his own as he'd dreamed of doing for years. It had all been a rather hot, alcohol-induced fantasy – hence the bucket of his jizz all over his belly and thighs.

Deeply disappointed, he dragged himself into the shower and cleaned up. Then, because it was Christmas, he shaved and dressed in a nice set of dark green and black velvet dress robes. Making his way down to the breakfast table, he summoned Binky, his house-elf, and had him prepare breakfast, and bring him the day's paper.

To his surprise, his father and mother showed up minutes later, as he was enjoying a perfectly delicious honey and spiced ham and fresh egg croissant topped with melted Swiss cheese, and they joined him at the table, greeting each other with the requisite 'good morning' and 'Happy Yule' blessings.

"Did you sleep well, my son?" his father inquired, taking his usual seat at the head of the table. Both of his parents were dressed in traditional Yule finery, heavy brocade and velvet as well of the same color scheme as he'd chosen.

"Adequately," he replied, sipping his dark morning tea. "You?"

His parents exchanged a heated look, and he felt instantly uncomfortable. Ever since the end of the war, they'd been closer than ever, shagging like teenagers all over the place, their love renewed even in the face of having lost the war and having to pay reparations and bend to the Ministry's will about registering their every Floo and Apparition. That their name and political value had hit rock bottom and had to be slowly reclaimed through tireless charitable donation and volunteerism so that, now, they weren't openly spat upon seemed to have been the best thing to have ever happened to the Malfoy libido - at least in his parents' case. In his…

Binky appeared in a snap to announce that Draco's guest had arrived and was set to wait in the Drawing Room. His parents traded a different kind of look then as he politely excused himself to attend to Hermione's needs.

"Draco," his mother hesitantly began, knowing this was a touchy subject between them. "I must ask the important question: exactly how far you intend on taking this thing with Miss Granger? Surely you understand that she is not like us?"

He paused, glancing at his mother with a tight frown. If there was one subject he would not back down from, it was his feelings for Granger. He'd denied them for too long, and now she'd given him a chance by coming to the Manor to spend Christmas with his family (her own deciding to stay in Australia, where they'd retired just after the war). He wouldn't let them ruin this moment, an important concession on her part, given everything she'd endured in this house during the war. "I'm courting her, mother, father, with the intention of marriage. You should get yourself used to the idea."

With that, he headed out and down to greet his guest, not waiting for the fallout from that proclamation.

His witch was positively breathtaking in a very traditional robe for the season – the softest, silken ivory-colored chemise overlaid with crushed-red velvet draping that parted in the middle. Gold ribbon edged the hem of the velvet, and in the center of the bustle, it was decorated with gold, red and ivory ornate beading. The same beading decorated the sleeves, down the side, and a matching belt cinched it all in the middle, at the perfect height on the waist to accent her breasts and tiny middle. Binky had obviously taken her cloak for storage, for he didn't see it, but he did spy the hanging waist purse, which he knew held her wand.

"Good Yule," she offered, smiling, looking extremely lovely with her long, curly hair tamed and pinned up on the sides, flowing down her back in youthful fashion. Her cheeks were pink from the cold outside, her lips painted and glossy with shine, her eyelashes teased. In her ears, she wore plain gold hoops, and no other jewelry aside.

"Good Yule," he reciprocated with his heart in his throat as he took her in his arms and hugged her tight. Fresh from a bath (smelling lightly of roses from her shampoo and soap), she was probably the most enticing thing he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

As her arms shyly came around him, she nuzzled into his throat and sighed with happiness, and Draco had to wonder again how had it come to this moment, when he was finally able to admit he was in love with her? How was it possible that she would let him after everything he'd done? Pulling away, he kept his hands on her waist and looked at her, letting his eyes wander every curve and crevice of her pretty features, noting each flaw and each perfect quality again for the hundredth time, never tiring of the chore.

To his surprise, she reached up on tiptoe, wrapping her arms about his neck, feathering through his hair, and at her own instigation – a first in their six month courtship so far – she rather enticingly kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth and gently lapping at his. "Thank you for last night."

His pulse skipped two beats, and quickly, painfully rushed to catch up. "Um, last night?"

She queerly looked at him, blushing like a virgin. "Yo-you don't remember?"

Unsure as to how to respond – what the fuck happened the night before? – he silently stood there looking down at her, feeling trapped. If he said the wrong thing, would she storm out? If he lied, she'd see right through it, though (for some reason, she had the knack when it came to him). He opted for a very non-Slytherin response, knowing it was probably the only course of action that wouldn't blow up in his face. "I'm afraid I drank a little too much last night. Things are fuzzy at the moment." He gave a contrite wince. "I'm sorry."

What was he supposed to have remembered about last night? He silently berated himself to think past the cobwebs in his brain, but nothing came up… well, except that fabulous dream of fucking her into the mattress again and again.

Feeling himself hardening, he carefully swayed his hips back a bit, so as not to give away his erect state and embarrass himself further. Hermione, however, wouldn't be treated like a precious china doll. She boldly stepped against him, and pressed her chest to his, thrusting her fingers into his hair and looked up at him through half-lidded, very sultry eyes. "You opened my Christmas gift at midnight and we shared it."

To his utter surprise, he was backing away, unsure as to what had come over his sweet, virginal girlfriend. She flowed right along with him, though, flanking him until his back hit the stone wall. As soon as her core pressed into his hard length, he groaned. What the hell kind of Christmas gift had she given him?

Brushing her lips against his ear, she whispered in a naughty, husky voice in his ear. "Patented Daydream Charms enchanted for two are exceptional, little things, don't you think? Despite the distance between your home and my London flat, I could actually feel you come into me and phantom taste you as if all of it were really happening." Nibbling down the side of his throat with gentle nips, the vibration of her low moans traveling through his skin caused Draco to quite suddenly become weak in the knees. "Didn't you like your gift, Master?"

It all made complete sense then. He'd been naked in his bed, his clothes neatly folded on the side he didn't sleep on – he'd done that himself, undressing and slipping under the covers, letting the alcohol he'd consumed earlier pave the wave for his inhibitions to be completely dropped so he could enjoy the spell with her when he cast it at midnight. They'd shared that fantasy together. No wonder it has seemed so real!

Heart slamming under his ribs now, his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her in until there was no room for even light to pass between them, he passionately kissed her mouth. "I loved it, my pretty slave," he murmured the secret against her lips, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. His whole body shook with desire for this amazing witch in his arms. Bending his mouth to her throat, groaning in need, he latched on, careful not to leave a love bruise, but applying enough pressure to make her moan against his ear. "You're the one who decided on the roles, aren't you?" he murmured in between pulls of his lips.

Granger's soft hair slid over his cheek as she nodded affirmative. "I thought, with what happened in the war… It's been a contention between us all these months, Draco - something we've both had difficulty addressing and coming to terms with, even though it's been two and a half years since the Final Battle. Role-playing out our darker, unconscious sides, I thought would help us both to come to terms with those parts of ourselves we're trying hard to hide from each other. Once we were fully exposed – all of the good and the bad - then we could determine what we really wanted from each other, and how much we're willing to give of ourselves to this relationship."

Guilt swamped him and he paused in his attentions. "Granger, what happened last night… it was depraved. Not loving, like you'd want. Not like I'd want. That's a side of me I don't like very much, honestly."

"None of us are angels," she admitted with a measure of great maturity. "We all have a bit of the Devil inside us. And even that side of you wasn't really horrible, more sensually sadistic," she defended him. "You could have used the dream to do much worse to me if you were truly evil deep down inside, as you'd contended." She drew back, touching his lips with gentle strokes of her fingertips. "I knew the minute you said such a horrid thing about yourself what you were trying to do: you wanted to punish yourself for all of the bad things that happened during the war, and you planned to do it by attempting to drive me away by being intentionally cruel. You don't think you're worthy of me." Looking him in the eye, she melted him with her compassion. "But don't you see, Draco? I wouldn't want you if I didn't think you were a good man. The person you are today has tried hard to atone for the mistakes of his past, and you've given a lot of yourself to help those who have literally, in some cases, spit upon your efforts. You don't let it get you down, though, and you don't wallow in self-pity. You've changed so much from our school days, and I'm proud of you for it." She stroked his cheek with the softest hands he'd ever known. "Our past is just that, and it's time to stop hating ourselves for the decisions of our youth."

Her words struck him deep, made his heart shudder. She accepted him! She'd seen the very worst he could do from that dream, and she cared for him anyway. Never in his life had Draco felt such relief.

She was quiet a moment more, her eyes returning to his lips as she seemed to contemplate telling him her next thought. "And you know the dream was a way for me to test myself, too. It was very hard for me to give up control, which is why I fought it so hard, but when you took me to your bed, I found that I rather liked being free of making decisions. That's why I gave in. And since I knew it was a fake fantasy, it was a chance for me to experiment without actual physical repercussions." Her lips brushed against his once, twice. "Nothing we did was absolutely awful, Draco. Even the, um, spanking part." Her face was positively hot against his as she brushed their cheeks together, and he knew she was furiously blushing. "I admit that was a bit, well, arousing."

Shite, it hadn't felt very phony to him; he'd really thought he was still a Death Eater, and that Voldemort had won the war, and that Granger had been his war-prize slave.

Wait a second… His girlfriend wanted to be a submissive in bed? Who the hell would have figured that for Hermione Granger? She was always so tightly-wound, so controlling, so bossy- Oh! Well, in a reverse-psychology sense, it was perfectly logical, wasn't it? If there was one thing he had learned about his girlfriend over the last six months since they'd begun dating, it was that she'd done a lot of things during their school days to break the rules, and every time had been a thrill for her. Apparently, that penchant for mischief hadn't gone away as she'd aged.

Blood roaring through his veins at the memories of their shared dream - especially the end part when she'd willingly given herself over to him - Draco's need became an insistent pounding through him. His hands slid to her rump, pulling her tight against his demanding arousal, rubbing them together through their clothing. "Stay tonight?" he asked, praying she'd agree to the unspoken intention of his offer.

There was no hesitation when she gave him her answer. "Yes."

Gods, he was going to have her – finally!

Nearly losing all semblance of control right then and there, he turned them so she was against the wall instead, and ran his fingers up to cup her breasts through her dress, causing them both to gasp. This was the most sexual they'd been in their relationship, both having decided by unspoken agreement to withhold this side to see if their personalities would mesh first, and then how the world would take them walking out together. There had been so many hurdles to surpass, so much negative history to overcome, before they'd felt comfortable enough to even kiss. Her gift last night had changed everything between them, though, letting him know that she was ready - and letting him know that he was ready, too. It had enlightened him as to what he did and didn't want to do with her now - and what she could and couldn't take from him.

"I want you, Hermione," he confessed, his lips and tongue tangling with hers as he claimed her mouth again. "I desperately want you – every day, in any way you want."

She sighed, twining herself about him and they held on to each other, there in the room where so much evil had happened years before, mere feet from where she'd endured so much pain and suffering at the hands of his twisted Aunt Bellatrix, and to his immense relief, she told him she loved him.

That night, after their presents had been exchanged, and their meal had been partaken, and the traditions of his family upheld, they offered a good rest to his parents and retired to his room. There, in his bed, the thing of darkness and self-loathing inside of him – the it that had enjoyed the fantasy of simultaneously hurting her and punishing him - melted away under the assault of his girlfriend's sweet lips, and her light caresses, and the real sharing of her virgin body. They'd exchanged words of love as he'd breached her, and as he brought her, spilling into her with a cry of her name. In that moment, Draco finally found himself - the real man inside - and he saw his future in the face of the girl he'd once irrationally despised. It was the best gift he'd ever received.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," his lover whispered as they hedged towards sleep much later, nestled together in exhaustion under the blankets.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Draco nuzzled tightly around her, giving himself over to a new dream, involving his witch and curly-haired children… and the addition of a mirror and chaise lounge to the bedroom first thing tomorrow morning.

"Happy Christmas, love."