"She was so wet for me," he moaned, head in his hands. "It would have taken me a bit of pushing and coaxing but I would have had her right there, on that table if I wanted so. And did I want it!" "You is very courageous to, er, refrains, Master," comforted Bonny slowly, a bit out of her element. "She would haves left yous if yous had mated hers then told hers the truths. But she, er, wills not forget her arousals, and she wills be wanting yous maybe in the futures." The Master sighed. "You are right, of course," he muttered. "I am tired and sick of this game. Fetch me some brandy, Bonny, if you will, then you can retire for the night, thank you very much." Bonny nodded and brought him his bottle of favorite brandy, before popping away. The Master flung his head back and drank from the bottle, gazing at the ceiling. "Good night, my delicious mate," he whispered, "My beauty, my love, my Hermione." XXX Needless to say, Hermione was very, very unhappy. How could she make such a fool out of herself downstairs? Was he lying about the sudden, unsuspected, unwanted lust that had pooled through her core like molten lava, something she'd never felt before? She had lusted after men, of course, and had had her fantasies, but this was unreal. And scary. Plus, the Master wasn't exactly a man, was he? Part Veela, part man... part monster. She wondered what he would look like
Hermione covered in a corner of the room, more terrified by the Beast's awful temper than his awful appearance. He twirled her direction, panting, and barked out: "Go! You hate me. You find me awful. Leave! The wards are up. Your wand is in your room. Take it, leave, and let me die in peace!" He roared the last part before returning to his frenzy. Hermione whimpered, stood, and raced towards her room, her heart strangely breaking every step she took. She stormed into her room, saw her wand awaiting her on her bed, seized it as well as a cloak, and hurried down to the great door, ripping it open and running as fast as she could into the night. Once she wrenched the gate open, she jumped to the other side and held her wand up, ready to Apparate, panting. She glanced back once at the Manor, wondering if the Beast would follow and why her heart was yelling at her to get back inside, and heard the creature's heart-breaking screams of fury and sorrow. Then her name, howled out of its tortured lips. "Hermione..." She hesitated, lowering her wand. Stumbling, she took a step backwards. And was immediately stopped by a soft growl behind them. Slowly, Hermione turned around. A few feet from her was a big, silver furred, male wolf, baring its sharp teeth, yellow eyes glinting. As she stilled, she heard noise around her, and several other members of the pack came out to join their leader, who was now carefully stalking her way. She gulped. It was too late to Apparate, and she couldn't simply flee for the gate to the security of the Manor: the animals would catch her half-way. She whimpered. What to do? Suddenly, an inhumane roar resounded through the starry night, and the wolves yelped, turning immediately to race towards the forest. Blinking, Hermione turned around, and her
It or not. Pushing her boundaries. She replied with all the courage she could muster. Veelas needed to be constantly reinsured. "I said I loved you, Draco. Not that that is still the case. I don't pity you either, because I don't see why I should be. I will stick with you through thick and thin, whether you actually want this or not." He roared, and moved so fast that the next thing she knew, she was pinned up to the wall behind her, hard. Her legs were around his waist, and he held her hands over her head with his own. She yelped, but a shard of lust flashed through her as his bulging crotch ground against her core, and she bit back a moan. "Really?" he snarled into her face. "Do you think that, Granger? What if I get dangerous around you? What if I hurt you? What if I..." he rolled his hips and she stiffled a gasp. Her panties were soiled by now. "... decided that I want to fuck you?" A caressing claw groped a pebbled nipple, and she couldn't help herself. She arched into his touch, eager, wanton, a strangled moan escaping her lips. He stilled, before a dark smirk came over his lips. "You want me," he stressed out. "But do you actually love me?" "No," she gasped, "No!" "Be more convincing, darling," he hissed. She didn't recognize him anymore. Well, in fact, she did. Far too much. This was the dark side of him, the one that had outruled any other sentiment in school or during the war. "Be more convincing," he repeated, and it was purred. It sent a shiver up her spine, as he continued rolling his hips into hers and stroking her breasts through the fabric of her shirt. "So, you don't love me, but you still want me. Where does that leave us, Hermione, I wonder? Will you be able to leave me? Will you be able to hand me over to my mate? My true, one and only love." he hissed into her ear, and it was torture. Enough to
