Overture {Dramione}

The Point of No Return

That our passions may fuse and merge
In your mind you've already succumbed to me
Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me
Now you are here with me, no second thoughts
You've decided, decided

--

Strong arms.

Thick forearm that presses under her chin, just enough pressure on her throat to make her dizzy.

"Look at me."

She's trying. She's trying, but she can't. Even though he's just above her, his breath hot across her face as he pins her down, she can't see him.

"Look at me."

She tries to reach for him, but she finds her hands bound above her. She tugs on her bindings, secure, and she thinks maybe she should be afraid. Completely at his mercy with his arm pressing tightly against her throat. But she knows him. She trusts him.

"Look at me, Granger."

A knee between her thighs pushes them apart and he settles between them. It's only then that she realizes she's completely bare, his trouser-clad knee against her cunt.

"Can't you see me? I'm right in front of you," his voice rumbles in his chest, dark and promising, and she's aching, aching, aching. "Can't you feel me?"

She can, barely a whisper of a touch between her legs. He presses his knee harder against her centre at the same time that his forearm comes down harder on her neck. He's suffocating her, both physically and metaphorically. It's too much and it's not enough.

"My perfect girl."

She's dizzy. The lack of oxygen only serves to intensify the pulsing need between her legs as she ruts and fucks against his knee. Her hands claw at each other, her toes curl.

"My obedient girl. Look at me."

Blonde hair, a clad forearm under her chin, grey eyes with heavy lids as he watches her fall apart without even touching her, a familiar smirk and sharp, pointed features--

Hermione sat up a gasp, clutching her hand to her chest to soothe her heart that was beating violently in her chest. She touched her throat, gasping for the air that she was deprived of in her dream.

Or at least, from what she remembers.

Each morning for the past several weeks she'd wake up covered in sweat, tangled in her sheets, with an aching cunt. Her dreams tormented her night after night, yet she could never remember them.

Hermione glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 5:05. She sighed, she had only just gotten to sleep a few hours ago after tossing and turning restlessly until finally resting on her side to gaze out the window at the full white orb in the sky.

My moon is the highest at midnight and Hermione counted each agonizing second, inch by inch as the full moon crept higher. Taunting her. Forced to imagine the carnage that would no doubt meet them in the morning.

And now, just hours later, the sky had turned a vibrant orange to signify the new day as the moon fell below the horizon. Hermione rubbed her face, her eyes feeling heavy but her body still buzzing in the aftermath of her dreams.

After a long, cold shower she decided it would be best to get an early start on the day and apparated to Malfoy's office. Of course he was already there, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Malfoy with his sleeves rolled up casually, his glasses perched down his nose as he read through the paper. Silently, she snatched the Quibbler out of his hands.