Bound by Fate

Chapter 25: Torn Desires

Draco's footsteps echoed through the darkened hallways of Malfoy Manor as he made his way back to his room. The proposal ceremony had been a hollow performance, and the weight of the future Lucius had bound him to felt heavier than ever. Astoria had been at his side the entire night, her touch light but constant, and the image of her smiling up at him haunted him like an unwanted shadow.

But all he could think about was Hermione.

The library scene played over and over in his mind—the way her body had responded to his touch, the way she had whispered his name with breathless desire. The pull between them had been undeniable, and the intensity of their connection left him feeling both exhilarated and confused.

Draco shut the door to his room behind him, his chest tight with a mixture of frustration and longing. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor as he moved toward the bathroom. His body was still thrumming with need, the memory of Hermione's soft moans and the way she had trembled beneath his mouth refusing to leave him.

He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. The cool air against his skin did little to ease the heat that still burned inside him, and as he stepped under the hot water, he let out a shaky breath, trying to clear his head.

But it was impossible. The image of Hermione—her flushed skin, the way her lips parted when she had reached her climax—was seared into his mind. And the more he tried to push it away, the stronger the desire became.

Draco leaned his head against the cool tiles of the shower, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his body betrayed him. His hand slid down his chest, his thoughts filled with the memory of Hermione's touch, her taste, the way her body had felt against his.

A low groan escaped his lips as his hand wrapped around his length, the sensation bringing back the heat that had been simmering all night. He closed his eyes, his mind flooding with images of Hermione—her soft, breathless gasps, the way her eyes had darkened with desire as she looked at him.

He imagined her there with him now, her hands running over his body, her lips brushing against his skin. The water cascaded over him, but all he could feel was the way her hands had gripped him, the way her body had moved against his in the library.

"Gods, Hermione," he groaned, his voice hoarse with need as his hand began to move faster. The water from the shower was nothing compared to the fire that raged inside him, and with each stroke, his mind replayed the way Hermione had moaned his name, the way her body had arched toward him, desperate for more.

His breath hitched, his body trembling as he imagined her lips on him, her body pressing against his, their skin slick with sweat as they finally gave in to the pull that had been growing between them for weeks. The fantasy was vivid, overwhelming, and Draco's body responded eagerly.

He could feel the tension building inside him, the desire becoming unbearable as he imagined Hermione whispering his name again, her hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. His hand moved faster, his hips bucking slightly as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

"Hermione," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper as the climax surged through him, his body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over him.

For a long moment, Draco stood there, his chest heaving, his body spent but his mind still racing with thoughts of her. The water continued to pour over him, but it did nothing to wash away the feelings that now overwhelmed him.

As the afterglow faded, a sense of confusion and guilt crept in. This was more than just lust, more than just physical attraction. The pull between them was something deeper, something he couldn't ignore any longer.

But then there was Astoria—and the arranged marriage that loomed over him like a dark cloud. No matter what he felt for Hermione, the reality of his situation hadn't changed.

With a frustrated sigh, Draco turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out of the bathroom. The cool air hit his skin, but it did little to soothe the storm of emotions inside him.

He collapsed onto the edge of his bed, his mind spinning with thoughts of Hermione, Astoria, and the impossible situation he found himself in. He couldn't deny what he felt for Hermione—it was real, it was powerful—but he was bound by an Unbreakable Vow to marry Astoria. If he defied it, the consequences could be deadly.

Draco let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes drifting toward the window where the moonlight filtered through the curtains. He had never felt so torn in his life, and the weight of it all was crushing.

And yet, despite the confusion, despite the guilt, all he could think about was Hermione. The way she had looked at him, the way she had touched him, the way she had made him feel like he was more than just the heir to the Malfoy name.

With a heavy heart, Draco laid back on the bed, his mind still filled with the memory of her touch, her scent, her warmth. As he drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in the back of his mind.

How much longer could he fight this?