This was my submission for the 2011 "DMHGFicExchange" (April-May, 2011). The recipient was an HP fan named "uniquepov". Her requirements were:

- A post-war sexual healing fic
- Hermione & Draco have an established, true love relationship
- Hermione is dominated by Draco to help her cope with the aftermath of the war (BDSM specifically requested)
- Song prompt: "Time Heals Everything"I believe I hit all of those requirements within this story.

Special thank you to my beta, Unseenlibrarian, for all her help with correcting my myriad of mistakes. Any mistakes below are wholly mine, and not the fault of my wonderful, unpaid (but should be receiving a huge stipend from me for all she does) editor.

Timeline: September 2006

Story Details: A Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger Romance-Drama fanfic. Novel compliant, excludes Epilogue (follows the EWE? – Epilogue? What Epilogue? - format).

Summary: Love pushes us to be better, to give and accept unconditionally - to surrender to each other. Draco's determined to prove this truth to the woman he cherishes, but what he finds is the role of Dominant also requires one to become a submissive, too.

Rating: M+/NC-17 (explicit sexual situations – BDSM, profanity)

Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of its characters, nor do I profit in any way from the use of said characters and situations in this writing.

Images to go along with this fic (characters, outfits, places mentioned in the story - remove all spaces to load the URL properly): http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Our%20Horizon

Our Horizon

September, 2006

Starting at the dimpled sway of her hind, Draco's fingertips very slowly glided up his lover's bare spine, tracing each vertebra in passing and smearing lingering water droplets from their earlier shower across her freshly oiled skin. She'd relaxed nicely into the massage he'd lavished upon her, and now she was pliant for the next part.

With exacting gentleness, he slid wet strands of long, dark curly hair out of the way of his determined path, and continued his leisurely caresses towards the nape of Hermione's lovely neck, his eyes evaluating every inch of her delicate curves for what seemed the hundredth time, never tiring of their worship of such natural beauty. She shivered as he brushed against her pulse, and his body instantly reacted to her small sigh of need, tightening up.

He lived for her pleasure – to discover it by helping her test her limits, by rewarding her with blissful release again and again, by exercising the control in their relationship that she so desperately, secretly needed. He was her Dom, she his sub, but in his heart, their roles were reversed.

You own me.

She'd once told him that when he dominated her sexual experience, it allowed her to simply exist in the moment, to be free of all her pain - to truly feel alive, a testament to their surviving the war. That she trusted him with such a huge responsibility, especially after their poor history, spoke volumes about her courage and her limitless capacity for forgiveness.

Tracing the delicate shell of her ear, he felt that achingly familiar grip about his heart; it was the same feeling that had been following him about since the night they'd hooked-up. That sexually-charged one-off had turned into a weekend of relentless passion, which had extended into a month of experimental fantasy fucking, proceeded by six more of physically-satisfying eroticism that most men only dreamed of experiencing, then twelve. And now, here they were, four years later, still unable to say goodbye at the door.

The fact was he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger so absolutely from that first night they'd spent together in her small, lumpy bed in her run-down flat in Camden that he had given himself to her then without ever realizing. The sharp clutch in his chest simply reminded him of that truth at times like this.

I'm enslaved by my feelings for you.

When his journeying hand met the long, white scars that stretched across the width of her upper back at an angle from right to left – evidence of the abuse she'd suffered under Aunt Bella's torture at his family home years previous – he very carefully mapped them out. Golden, shimmering skin rippled in the candlelight as she shifted, clearly uncomfortable by his desire to once more push this, one of her mental limits.

"Don't move," he softly commanded. "You will let me touch them again."

Muscles tensed under his fingers and he held still, waiting for her to comply. Slowly, she let out a breath she'd been holding, and released the pressure, letting her body go limp. As she surrendered all control again to him, he continued his ministrations, intentionally studying each scar, touching every ragged and raised inch.

This was a form of therapy, in a way, forcing her to become desensitized to the horrid tactile memory that these wounds hauntingly conjured. One day, she wouldn't even notice when he did this to her, and then her emotional healing would truly be complete. He longed to give her this closure, knowing he'd been responsible for causing much of her life's anxiety.

I love you.

When he'd had his fill exploring, he ran his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her head back, exerting careful pressure. "Your reward for being a good girl, my beauty," he explained as his lips claimed hers in a brief kiss. "Flip over for me."

Automatically obeying – he'd trained her well over the past year – Hermione straightened into the position he normally had her assume: arms stretched over her head, wrists crossed. The aromatic, edible oils he'd used on her (an amazing concoction she'd come up with on her own) made her satiny skin glow with a slick, smooth sheen that tempted him to taste his fill. He indulged, engulfing her breast in the wet cavern of his mouth. The tang and scent of apple-raspberry exploded across his tongue as he suckled deep.

Raking his teeth across her dusky-colored areolae, flicking the berry-ripe nipples, he soon had her arching her back, silently begging for more. When a low, husky moan slipped through her lips, his chest caved in, his breath rushed from his lungs, and his penis jerked to full life. His lover seriously appreciated attention paid to her overly-sensitized breasts; he knew she could come with just the slightest brush against them while he pounded away inside her. No woman had ever been as responsive in his bed, and that turned him on more than anything else. That she wanted him with such honest desire nearly unmade him.

How could you love me, though?

Draco immediately backed off. Tonight was about excess tempered by restraint – a building of anticipation, rather than a quick crescendo. It wouldn't do for her – for either of them - to reach climax yet.

As his mouth traveled down the expanse of her flat belly, he stroked himself with tortuously slow intent, assuring he remained hard and agonizingly unfulfilled, too. The masochist inside enjoyed such well-deserved punishment, as it continually reminded him that he was lucky to have this much, being as unworthy of such a phenomenal second chance as the one she'd gifted him with when she'd let him into her life all those long months ago.

Dipping into the dark thatch of curls between her spread legs, he poised his nose before his intended target, but instead of delving in immediately, he tickled her clit with dancing fingers. Hermione thrashed about, wordlessly mewling for him to just give her what they both wanted and to end the teasing, her chest rising and falling with desperate breath.

A feminine growl of frustration resounded from her throat when he pulled his hand away and it became obvious that he had no intention of giving her what she was craving. Moving off the bed, regaining his height, he watched as his lover writhed with need across the coverlet, rubbing her thighs together to prolong the delicious sensations, resourcefully trying to come all on her own.

Tormenting me in some fashion has always been your favorite game, hasn't it?

He hadn't given her permission to act in this manner. He would have to take steps to reassert his authority, it seemed.

Walking along the side of the bed, he double-checked her blindfold first, assuring it remained in place. Next, he pulled her up into a kneeling position, facing the headboard. Finally, he grasped the velvet ropes that were attached to the bed's rails and brought them over her wrists, tying them nice and tight.

His lover gasped, knowing what would come next.

Pulling open the 'special drawer' in the bedside table, he looked through the selection of their toys, considering which to use. He pulled out the ones he wanted, leaving the others for another time. Taking up the first in his hand, he crawled back up onto the bed, behind her. "Sit up and open for me," his command brooking no argument.

"No, please," she whimpered, but he could hear the excitement trembling through her tone, knew she liked to ham her submissiveness to the max.

How ironic that we continue to perform these similar roles as adults, don't you think?

Draco understood his part as well, and performed it, as always, adequately for both of their enjoyment. "Your punishment gets worse the longer you delay my beauty." He slapped one pale cheek, making it blush a bit. "On your knees fully, and spread your legs wide for me. I want your arse in the air."

Misleadingly reluctant, she pretended to be dismayed, but did as he wanted. Opening the small bottle of oil he'd brought out of the drawer, he dripped some of the slick fluid onto his fingers and smeared it all down the seam of her bum and over the string of rubbery beads that Granger had purchased months ago from some Muggle shop in London. With a confidence born of experience, for they had done this before, he fed the line of incrementally larger, round balls into her small rosette very slowly, opening her up at the same time as assuring her comfort. It took several minutes and some measure of persistence but as the last one slid inside, he fondly petted her bum. This was the first time he'd been able to insert them all into her. "Good girl. Now, you know what you're not allowed to do when these are inside of you, correct?"

"Y-yes, sir," she assented, quivering with excitement.

"Tell me," he required, just to make sure they both understood the rules.

Hermione swallowed hard on an exhale. "I'm not allowed to orgasm until you give me permission."

Draco practically purred with satisfaction. "That's right, my beauty – no coming until I say." Turning over and ducking between her legs, his positioned his face directly under her silky, sodden cunnie. Looking up at her from this angle, he could see everything – the long line of her toned torso and swaying breasts, and if he tilted his head just so, all the way down and into her quim itself. The small amount of bush she kept was dewed with her arousal, and her musky scent saturated and humidified the air, making his mouth water.

"Now, let's play."

Yes, make my body beg for you.

He started by running his fingers with unhurried, teasing deliberation through her neatly trimmed, golden lower lips, opening her up to his full view. She wiggled her hips, trying to get him to rub her in the places he knew she liked, but he resisted, exploring her at his leisure, talking to her the whole time, as he knew they both liked. "Look at that pretty, soaked pussy." He nudged her folds about, pierced her entrance with two fingers and began pumping them in and out in a lazy rhythm. "So responsive. So desperate for attention. Do you want me to lick it, my beauty?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, squirming. "Please, yes."

"Fuck my fingers back, first," he commanded, stroking her clit with his thumb. "Move your hips for me. Prove to me that you can do this for one minute without orgasming and I'll eat your pussy and let you come on my tongue."

Her thighs began quaking even before they were twenty seconds into the challenge.

"Ride harder, Hermione," he coaxed, stretching his fingers out, intensifying the caresses to her little pearl with his thumb. "Show me that you can do this. Show me how strong you really are."

I beat the Cruciatus - I can do anything! I didn't break then, I won't break now!

At forty-five seconds, her insides began to tighten, and he knew she was so close to losing this challenge. Her breath exploded as she cried out with each fierce thrust of his hand, her insides tightening up, holding back the tide by sheer will alone. "Almost there," he insisted. "A few more seconds."

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine…

She began tipping over the edge of pleasure with a lamenting cry at exactly sixty seconds.

"Come," he commanded and withdrawing his hand, he grabbed her hips and yanked her down hard onto his mouth so he could drink up her orgasmic rush as it pounded through her. She screamed with pleasure as his tongue thrust deeply where his fingers had been moments before. He fucked her with his mouth, as promised, and she came with explosive relief for him.

In the aftermath, holding her steady upon his lips, he tasted her sweet cream release as it dripped from her, lapping up her delicious, silken wealth. "Tastes so good," he murmured. "Your come tastes so sweet, my beauty."

See? I didn't give up! I was strong, Draco. I'm always strong. I have to be, or else…

Feeling her begin to relax, knowing she'd bottomed out on euphoria, he lightly rubbed his thumbs over her hip bones once, twice to calm her down, and then worked his way up her body. "I've got you, Hermione," he murmured as his mouth evened out with hers and he leaned up to kiss her, tasting the saltiness running under the blindfold, down her cheeks. "You're safe."

The first orgasm of the night for his witch was always an emotional release, Draco knew from months' worth of experience, and quite frequently would lead her to tears, as it apparently had tonight. It was all that repression of her passions; she internalized to her detriment. Something had to give, and quite frequently that meant a complete unleashing of emotion immediately after sexual release. Draco firmly believed this was part of why she allowed herself to become utterly vulnerable in their bedroom: by relinquishing all control to him, she could find the level of relief necessary for her to detoxify safely.

As he shushed her stormy feelings away, he caressed both of her nipples simultaneously, gently coercing her desire back up. His hard-on hadn't deflated, and he found he was aching to take her now. "I want you, my beauty – now, just like this." He guided her body over his aching arousal, holding it with a free hand in position, the flared crest tucking into the soft folds of her body, aligned with her slippery entrance. "Slide down on me."

Shaking, she nodded. "Y-y-yes, sir."

He moaned from the sensation of her sliding down his cock. She was so bloody tight, and he could feel the beads through the narrow strip of skin that separated them rolling and rubbing as he pushed on through into her very narrow sheath, going deep. He knew they were stimulating her, too, by the way Hermione gasped, jerked her head back, arched her spine. Buried to the hilt, he stilled, gave her a little time to adjust, trying to calm his pounding heart.

"I want you to fuck me like you know I enjoy," he instructed her, holding a loose grip on her hips. "Let go and give yourself to me fully."

I'll do whatever you ask of me.

His witch did as he wanted, holding tightly to the velvet rope lead and bouncing up and down upon his length with wild abandon. He met her downward motion with a bucking upward thrust of his own.

"Tell me," he huffed, tortured by the sweetness of her tight cunt as it gripped him and pulled away over and over again, "what you feel. Tell me! " This was part of their game; he always required of her to admit that she enjoyed their joining - that their coming together was amazing and unique and wanted.

Hermione was frantic now. "You're pushing the beads around inside of me, back and forth, and it feels so incredibly good! I want to come again. Please let me come! "

"Slow down, my beauty," he coaxed, wanting to prolong the agonizing desire flaring through both of them, grabbing her hips and forcibly reducing their pace, until finally, he had her simply sit upon him, impaled, motionless. "Tilt forward a bit for me." When she complied, he took a nipple back between his lips at the same time as reaching behind her and pulling the string to the beads, reversing their course with leisurely motion.

Hermione's whole body shook and her hips pumped a bit back and forth. "Oh, oh God! Draco… it's… I'm so close to breaking apart!"

Drawing out the removal of the beads as she wiggled upon his length made him nearly lose all control. He released her nipple as they neared the end, her insides fluttering, teetering on the edge of another powerful release. "Hermione, do you trust me to know what you want and to give it to you?"

I want a little boy with your hair and eyes. Would you really give me that?

Her body quaked with powerful emotion. "Draco... Yes, I trust you, but you know what I want. We talked… Are you sure you want that, too?"

With the beads out, he laid them off to the side and reached over his head to untie the velvet ropes, freeing her. That done, he rested her palms upon his chest and began moving his hips ever so slightly, stimulating her clitoris by rubbing it against him. He stroked her cheek, brought her head down to claim her lips. "Fuck me, my wife, so I can give us a baby."

She sobbed with relief as he removed her blindfold and tossed it aside, grabbed her hips and shoved up into her. "Yes, Gods, yes!" she cried with joy, surging against him with all her strength.

They rode each other hard, and when her insides swelled and began pulsing, the stimulation overcame all of Draco's tightly-held restraint and finally shoved him over the edge. Hearing her scream for him, he shouted for her, and they burst together in a shower of feeling and light and hot sweat. He pulled her down tight, rolled them over and shoved her hips up, exploding deep inside her womb.

"I love you, my beauty," he breathed into her ear as he held her tightly in his embrace and prayed that their wish would be granted. "My Hermione."

Her trembling lips met his and she was crying again. "I love you, Draco – so, so much. Thank you."

They held each other in the afters, calming their bodies, basking in the glow. Draco wondered why he didn't feel terrified by what they'd just done. Being a parent was a huge responsibility, and he didn't want to make the same mistakes his own father had with him. What if he couldn't break the Malfoy mold of dysfunctional relationships between parent and child? He no longer held to the pureblood beliefs that had been such a large part of his childhood nurturing, but he was still afraid that there was a part of him that harbored the darkness he'd tried so hard since the war to temper.

You are not Lucius. You're loving and giving and brave, Draco, and you're going to be a wonderful father.

He wearily pulled back, staring down into his beauty's face, lightly caressing her cheek with his fingers. He loved when she spoke to him using mind magic; it made their bonding experiences incredibly intimate in a way that normal sex could not, as all of their fears were comforted by the other. "You really think so?"

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile, filled with hope. "The past is done with us, Draco. Tempus Omnia Sanat – 'Time heals everything.'" She entwined their fingers and brought his hand down to her belly, to rest over her lower abdomen. "Let's just both focus on building a new future together - as a family."

Pressing a kiss to her bared shoulder, he rested his cheek upon her collarbone and sighed happily, keeping her warm and her hips slightly tilted back to aid in conception. "We'll name him Scorpius."

His wife stopped moving and breathing and was silent for several moments. Finally, she sniffed – once. "I think you've accidentally overdosed on the edible oil, Draco. We are not giving our child such a ghastly name."

Feeling her hackles rise in anticipation of a row, Draco internally grinned. Having his wife submissive to his sexual whims was quite fun, but there was nothing like riling Hermione's temper up. Her bossiness and know-it-all attitude may have been moderated by the war, but his absolute favorite thing about this witch was her take-no-shite attitude – something that had not changed with time.

Putting on his best, most innocent face he looked up. "Now, darling, don't get angry. It'll make the sperms unhappy and they may miss the mark as a result. Besides, Scorpius is a nice, traditional-sounding Malfoy name…"

They spent the rest of their third wedding anniversary arguing the point, making love, arguing some more, and for the first time since the war ended, they both felt entirely secure in the path of their horizon.



I hope you enjoyed this one-shot ficlet!

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