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As cold and weary as he was, as heavy and hazy as he felt, Draco’s toes dragged the ground as he floated inside. Finally home. He didn’t know how long it had been this time, only that it had been far too long. It always was.He’d have moved like a shadow if shadows could have existed in a place so dark. His sodden cloak dropped somewhere along the way behind him. Prior to his trousers, probably, maybe after his boots. His fingers fanned out over the darkness like the tongues of ten snakes tasting the thick, humid air.His feet found the discarded duvet. He felt the bed sheet. Warm. He smoothed his hands over it. He felt her skin. Warmer yet. He would never understand how anything could be so soft. Even softer than the small murmur he was greeted with.He eased himself onto the mattress beside her and as the desolation that was his body met the heat of hers, he began to wake. He reached for her, and with his eyes closed for a second, he could almost see the contours of her like ley lines, glimmering with her magic and something even more significant. He pulled her closer, his arm coiling around her waist.“I missed you, love,” he whispered, with barely enough force to stir the air into sound.He pressed a sweet, solicitous kiss to her shoulder. He felt his lungs fill and he realised that he’d forgotten how to breathe. It was like that every time he left. It wasn’t until he returned — to her — that he began to exist again. She helped him remember how. He kissed her collarbone and moved slowly, lingering, tasting the sweat on her skin. He licked the salt from his lips. He loved her like this.He loved her any and every way.He lightly traced the delicate planes of her body. He heard the shift in the cadence of her slow even breaths. He counted her ribs and the seconds he could stand to wait to feel her. Hermione murmured again, almost imperceptibly.Her breast was heavy in his hand and he whimpered quietly as his heart began to melt. His cock throbbed, grazing against the silk of her bare hip as it rose. And he whimpered again at the contact. He had longed for this. For her. Finally home.He breathed in her breaths as she finished with each one, closed himself into a loop with her, collecting every one of her pleased sounds as he gently grazed over all the secret, sensitive little spots on her body that only his fingers knew. He kissed her jaw. His mouth trailed the curve of her neck… explored the valley between her breasts. She let out a small gasp as he softly licked her nipple. He matched his tongue to the movements of his fingers, slowly building her up… her anticipation, her pleasure, her need.She writhed, her hip gliding over the aching length of him as she pressed closer still. Her heavy breaths were mist hanging in the air above them. A plaintive, almost pained, moan unspooled from her mouth. He let her hard nipple slip from his. He kissed her stomach. Working his way down her body, the scent of her arousal drawing him in, making him salivate. And he could feel himself resurfacing from the depths. Home.“Lift up, love.” He felt her slick wetness on the sheet as he slid the pillow beneath her hips, and a shuddering thrill coursed through him.He smoothed his palms along her inner thighs, finding his way in the dark. He felt her legs draw apart. She spread herself wide for him. So inviting. So perfect. So completely open. He kissed her thigh. His eyes fluttered closed as his tongue followed the trail of her dripping arousal up to the source. A soft wordless sound escaped his throat as it tightened with a swell of tenderness and gratitude. He felt the wet smear of his precum against the sheet as his cock wept for more of her. She whimpered, her hips reaching, needing more of him too. He thought his heart might burst.He listened as she panted and moaned, hips rocking into him… she pressed her cunt so hard against him he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to. His lungs burnt, and his head swam in bright white light as he fell further into her. There was only the intoxicating taste of her perfect cunt, the scorching heat of her, the tremors of her sweat-slick body, the tight squeeze of her around his fingers. He could die right then and there and that would be just fine… that would be all right…She cried out his name, the sound of it so sharp in her throat, so piercing. His head broke the surface of the water, and he gasped in a ragged breath, lungs seizing at the unfamiliar intrusion of air. He was awake. Aware. Present. Plucked forth by her hand. Recalled to her entirely. His heart beat itself bloody against the inside of his ribs and his eyes glazed over with tears.It had been three years since he heard her speak. Heard his name on her lips. Her legs shook, and the bed creaked as her body convulsed. Her thighs began to clench together, her heels grazing his back, and he pressed them down to the mattress, holding her open as he worked her unrelentingly toward the edge. 'I love you, Hermione.' He pushed the words into her mind. And for a fraction of a second, he almost thought he could see her shimmering in the dark.She keened and she sobbed. She broke around him and on his tongue in a crush of heartbreaking beauty that he didn’t need eyes to see. The outpouring of her pleasure, matched only by the adoration that poured from his heart. He pushed her higher, and he drank down every drop of her, took her lightness into himself, wielding it as a ward against the darkness inside. He felt her fingers in his hair and the first tears fell from his wide eyes. It had been three years since he’d felt the touch of her hands. She told him to keep going. She stroked sweetly over his scalp, sending chills through him, making him shiver amidst the balmy heat around them and the fluttering warmth in his stomach. She begged him not to stop.She held his head in place, grinding against him as he whimpered against her. 'Thank you, love.' He pushed the words into her mind. She moaned, her body still spasming as she continued to ascend. And he was floating, so awash in the splendour of her affection and her perfect cunt. It was dizzying… his body prickled with pleasure as it began to fade in and out. He thought he might come just like that, completely untouched from the sheer bliss of satisfying her so deeply. She was all he wanted, all he needed. To feel her wetness trickle down the front of his neck… To hear her scream his name again… He would worship her with his last breath. And he whimpered again.'I missed you.' He pushed the words into her mind. 'I love you.'Her hands left the back of his head and he sucked in another harsh, gasping breath. Snaking down his neck, her fingers curled into the muscles of his shoulders, beckoning him up. He didn’t understand. She told him it was ok as she pulled him on top of her. She said that she missed him too. He let out a soft cry at the weight of her words, at the feel of his throbbing cock, so ready to spill, pressing between the lips of her cunt. He didn’t understand. It had been three years since he’d been inside her… why now?She said his name. She said please. She was already so close and so slick, but so fucking tight. They moaned together as he sank his painfully hard cock inch by inch into a rapture so profound he felt seconds away from sublimating… from his body disbanding atom by atom… from his heart giving out. He hoped, and he prayed. For release. To finally be released to her.Maybe this time she would let him stay.Her talons cut and dug into his back, and she drew in a stuttering breath as he pushed all the way inside her with agonising slowness... with all due reverence. He heard the most pathetic whimpering cry and didn’t know if it was hers or his. He could smell the heavy tang of blood comingling with the scent of their sweat, their sex, her magic. She crushed him to her, and the feel of her skin against his as they moved together was so excruciatingly perfect. She said his name again, and he was so overwhelmed he could hardly speak.“Hermione,” he echoed back weakly.
He felt the softness of her lips on his neck and the searing heat of her tears, the smooth sharpness of her beak. So gentle it hurt. Hope flowed from his eyes. She urged him on intently with every repetition of his name, every moan that strung them together. She writhed and he thrust, her hips bucked and her cunt gripped him tighter; he circled her clit and she said she needed more of him. He could barely breathe, only whimper, again, as her talons slid between his ribs and pierced through muscle. They punctured his lungs and skewered his heart. His tears fell faster as he was consumed by the ecstasy of feeling her inside him while he was inside of her. Of feeling so impossibly close to her. Of hearing her say she loved him too.She came with a sound like the beating of wings. He felt the wind on his body, and in the blackness he saw a flicker of light, colour, iridescence… of her. His mouth dropped silently open and his eyes fell shut. He felt her talons burst through his chest, and every muscle in his body was wrenched and wracked with transcendent spasms as he came. He reached his fingers down as he emptied himself deep inside her and felt their come leaking from her perfect cunt and his heart leaked along with it — the unbearable tenderness he felt for her spilling out as he bled freely onto her breast. Three years…He collapsed, unfurling out over her like the slow drift of incense smoke; like an offering. He buried his face against her neck and he breathed her in like oak ash, like wild heather, like verdant rain-soaked moss. His hand cupped the underside of her jaw, fingers weaving into her sweat-dampened curls. He kissed her just below the ear. And he thanked her, venerated her, and he sobbed, pleaded.They’d spent four years together strategising and planning, fighting and manoeuvring pieces into place. While the war raged and the world fell down around them, they found shelter in one another. And shelter turned into comfort... into friendship... into love. And when the war took her three years ago, true to form, she did not go quietly. Whether by sheer force of will or destiny, three years ago, Hermione was apotheosised, deified, reborn…He’d dropped to his knees, his heart all but stopped in his chest the first time he’d seen her as Badb — a black crow with the most beautiful gold-flecked wings — presiding over the field of battle, feasting on the flesh and souls of the dead. But he would know her — would love her — in any of her forms and by any of her names. She was The Morrígan. She was the goddess of war and death, justice and magic, prophecy and fate. And for three years, he relentlessly sought her in this place outside of time, this small pocket between worlds.“Hermione, please. Please let me stay.” He sputtered and choked on his tears. “I’m so tired, love. I miss you too much.”She enfolded him entirely within the immeasurable softness of her wings, held him tightly, but gently, with such care. He felt his flesh knitting as she healed his wounds. She soothed him and tended to him, softly licking the blood from his skin and their come from his cock when he inevitably slipped out of her. She brushed the hair back from his eyes and where it clung to his forehead. She tipped her cheek to his face and he felt so loved. So full. So protected. So at home.But she said nothing. She only sobbed along with him.His hope withered swiftly, and his heart splintered apart.“Why won’t you just let me stay dead?” His throat creaked and stung with sorrow and indignation, desperation and guilt. He’d been reckless and brash, selfish and weak. He lost count of how many times he’d died and how many miserable times he’d tried. How many times he’d knelt at her feet, and how many times she’d sent him away. Because he was her spear and she was his shield…But without her by his side… It was too much.He couldn’t bear the weight of it all; he didn’t want to fight anymore.He felt his tears drop onto her skin and hers flow over him. She said his name like it was the hook she hung her heart on. He whimpered, and he gasped. He clutched her to him like a balm, pressing her body against that aching in his chest, and she pulled him closer still, holding him tighter as he shook.She so tenderly kissed the bridge of his nose and told him that she loved him as she licked away his tears. He felt the caress of feathers on his cheek and the ghost of her breath over his parted lips — so close he could almost feel the warmth, the softness… could almost taste her perfect mouth on his. He whimpered again, so desperately, and he waited. And gods, he fucking ached. It had been three years…The Morrígan spoke.
Watch for me at the river ford. When I wash your bloody robes; you will know the end has come.
You will know me by my wings, and when I shriek overhead, you alone will have no fear.
The skies above will open up, and when I rain down fire and blood, Draco, you will end the war.
You will bring me victory, and when you die for the final time, I will be with you.
I will take you. I will keep you. I will bring you home.
Her words spread and swelled, resonating through him, filling the void around them. And he savoured every heartbreaking sound as he tried to choke them down. Before he could protest or question, say ‘I love you’ or ‘goodbye,’ she pressed her mouth to his like the softest anaesthetic, and the veil dropped down between them.He was falling back asleep. He felt the weight of the blood-drenched cloak fall back upon his shoulders; the unyielding chill of the Death Eater mask settle back over his face.He deadened himself, sinking far and deep into the frigid, still waters of his occlusion. He didn't scream. He didn't cry out in devastation at the heart and soul-crushing agony of having been so close… having tasted heaven only to lose her yet again. He didn't fall to the ground and weep until his eyes bled because he was already there.His fingers fanned out, slowly, reverently retracing the lines and contours of the black crow he’d carved into the surface of his mask.As cold and weary as he was, as heavy and hazy as he felt, Draco rose to his feet, like walking sleep. And once again, he fought for her.