Written for week 6 of the GE Malfoy Manor fic war, prompt: Law. Again, thanks to lwalters5 for her outstandingly efficient beta work. Part of the Modal Realism in Practise series
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respecitve owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended
As an Unspeakable, Hermione Granger was often granted dispensation to act outside of many laws. Bending rules, differences in interpretation, and general disregard for some policies were to be expected, given her position. But outside of her work environment, Hermione Granger was far more likely to toe the line, perhaps being even more cautious than most citizens of the Wizarding world, having had her fill of law breaking already, thankyouverymuch.
Newtonian laws, however, she tended to find herself following to the letter. Even for a witch, who perhaps had more ability than most to flout them; and even when only referring to the concept of physical in the more base intent. For example:
Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.
She would freely admit that yes, she did tend to settle into comfortable situations when the desire for some normality in her life arose; although to be fair it was perhaps often complacency that had her falling into ruts of repetition than any inherent desire for settling down. She had had a grand total of two serious relationships in her life, the first of which had started when she was thirteen, and the second, although beginning with intense animosity, had ended in marriage. A perhaps unconventional and combative marriage, but a happy one all the same.
Then Scorpius Malfoy had fallen through the veil of mysteries, and oh boy had an external force been applied. It had started with a kiss beneath the fireworks and a few weeks of avoidance, and was now at a point where she was beginning to wonder if she was being shot out of her husband's orbit completely.
It didn't help, of course, that the man she was sneaking around with was the spitting image of her better half, bar the eyes. Scorpius' eyes were almost frighteningly blue, apparently a throwback from his mother's side of the family. Draco's were grey, not at all dull, but different. Perhaps a little more guarded, but certainly no less striking.
The world Scorpius had come from was so very similar to that in which he had landed, right down to Hermione's apparent penchant for adultery. In his world, she had married Ron at twenty-one and they had had their first child when she was twenty-six. The year their first child, Rose, had left home for Hogwarts, was the year she had run off with a mysteriously reappearing, and completely unaged Sirius Black.
In her world, her relationship with Ron had ended at twenty-one and she had somehow fallen into a strange and antagonistic romance with Draco Malfoy. After one of their more ridiculous and petty arguments, he had dared her to marry him, and in her confused mixture of anger and mirth, she had agreed.
Their wedding had been a spectacle of ridiculous proportions, each of them coming up with more and more fantastical and over the top additions to the extravaganza, but their attempts to scare each other off were unsuccessful. They were married in the summer of 2003, in a dazzling ceremony at Stonehenge - the real one not the fake one for Muggle tourists – which had been attended by the crème de la crème of Wizarding society. Oh, and a few friends and family.
It hadn't been until she was standing at the end of the aisle, fledgling snowy owls fluttering around her and the three metre swathe of fabric at the back of her Alexander McQueen gown flowing outwards in the breeze, that she had the realisation that she actually loved the man who would be her husband. She loved him so much, in fact, that she couldn't reconcile her feelings for him with her normally analytical and emotionally surpressed brain. When she had reached the end of the aisle, she had punched him in the shoulder and smirked.
"I love you."
He raised an eyebrow and his mouth broke into a broad smile. "I know. I love you too."
The celebrant frowned and asked them if they were quite finished, and they had nodded, completing the ceremony with all the pomp and circumstance that Draco's generous vault had afforded, but with the knowledge that it wasn't all for nothing. It had been the first time of many that they uttered the three words that ended so many teasing arguments and spats over who used the last of the milk.
And now, two years later she was in crisis yet again.
Apparently, Hermione's external force tended to be men who had appeared from voids that she knew nothing about. Perhaps it had something to do with her quest for knowledge, perhaps it was more about escaping the clutches of those she had known for years without having to fully remove herself, from a world she had grown to become very comfortable with. Whatever it was, she was inexplicably drawn to this new addition to her Wizarding world, and despite the heavy guilt and self hatred, she wasn't trying very hard to pull away.
The change in velocity with which an object moves is directly proportional to the magnitude of the force applied to the object and inversely proportional to the mass of the object.
She was pressed hard up against the door to her office, his hands travelling up her sides to her breasts, his lips hovering millimetres away from her neck, his hot breath wafting across her pulse point. Her face was flushed, and the pressure of the cool wood against it was a welcome respite from the heat the man was generating within her.
His cock was pressed hard up against her bottom and she ground back into it, begging him to pull her slacks down and take her against the door, not caring about the setting, nor the fact that anyone could request her audience at any time. No, all she cared about was this hot, hard man pressed against her back, the only man other than her husband who had ever generated such furious desire within her.
"Fuck, Malfoy just..." His hands slipped down and to the front of her trousers, making quick work of her belt, button and zipper, and slipping beneath her knickers, teasing her gently with one hand while the other made its way back to her taut nipple.
"Just what, Granger?"
She groaned loudly and leaned her head back, pressing the back of her skull hard into his shoulder, messing up the French twist her hair had been so meticulously styled into earlier that morning.
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Oh Merlin please." She rolled her eyes and glared at him the best she could, head lolling back against him as he looked down, smirking at her frustrated desperation.
"And what exactly do I get out of this dalliance?"
"Isn't being given the allowance to stick your dick in me enough of a reward?" Her voice was exasperated and her body taught and humming with anticipation.
He chuckled. "Touche."
His hands left her and he quickly unbuckled his own trousers, shoving her hard back up against the door and whispering a silencing charm, a gentle glow shimmering across the door as he pressed his palm momentarily against the dark oak. Seconds later he had pushed her pants down enough to expose her bare bottom, freed himself from his own confinement, and bent her a little at the waist.
She had been expecting it, but the intrusion was still a surprise. He was warm and hard inside her and she gasped as he buried himself as deep as possible. Her thighs were pressed tightly together and she could feel the head of him pressing hard against her inner walls. Sliding her hand down towards her clit she paused, hovering over her belly and reveling at the feel of his cock causing a gentle swell against the flesh as he slid in and out of her.
"Fuck, that's sexy."
"What?" His voice was hoarse and a little exasperated, and he slammed into her a little harder than he had been previously. She whimpered and took his hand, previously gripping at her hip, and moved it to where hers had been moments earlier. He groaned, clutching his fingers at her soft skin and stopped moving, draping his torso along the length of her back. "Holy shit."
His hand remained on her belly and he moved his free fingers to her clit, teasing her as he stroked towards completion, the room filled with nothing but their breathless pants and gasps.
As he twitched against her, moments after she had reached her own climax, and nipped at her earlobe muttering a single word in her ear.
"I have plans later." She was still facing away from him, tugging at her slacks after casting a quick charm to freshen herself up.
"After later then."
He zipped himself up and left her office with all the swagger and confidence of a man who couldn't be refused. She returned to her desk, slumping down in her chair in defeat.
Yes, she would be back for more. After later.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
They were seated on the couch, watching her Muggle television. The reincarnation of Doctor Who was nothing to be sneezed at.
"I'm going to stay at the Manor tonight."
She tuned against him sharply, jabbing her elbow into his side in her surprise. "What? Why?"
"I need some time to think."
Sitting up, she curled her legs back under her, sitting on her knees facing Draco in confusion. "But why?"
"I think you know why." She didn't answer, instead inspecting her cuticles, avoiding eye contact. He sat up straight, reaching down to the floor where his socks lay discarded. "I can't keep going on like nothing is wrong, Hermione. I think you need some space too."
She looked back towards him and smiled sadly. "How long have you known?"
"The whole time."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought it was just a passing fancy, but I think you clearly care for him more than I initially assumed."
"Well... you know what they say about assumptions."
He snorted and nodded. "Yeah."
"I really do love you, you know."
"I know, babe. I just don't know if I can handle you loving more than one of me."
She let out a bark of mirthless laughter and looked at him through lowered lashes. "You really are awfully similar. Apparently you're not much like the Draco from his world."
"Well, apparently parallel universe me is a bit of a cunt." He tugged on the socks and glanced back at her as he pulled his trousers back towards his feet. Opening his mouth he looked as if he was going to say something, but thought better of it at the last minute.
"Are you coming back?" Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper and he saw a shimmer of a tear in her eye.
"I don't know."
She nodded and smoothed down the flannel yoga pants that covered her thighs. "I would very much like it if you came back."
Draco stood and headed for the door, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack on the way. Turning back with his hand on the doorhandle he fixed his gaze on her, his eyes boring into hers in an intense and almost magical connection.
"I didn't marry you for shits and giggles, Granger. I love you. And I do not share."