Playing with Fire

Chapter 66: I promise

Song: Burning Pile - Mother Mother

A/N: This chapter is devoted to my best friend in the world and my beta reader <3 You know who you are babes, I literally couldn’t do this without you - enjoy the song choice for the second part of this chapter hehe

~~~

Static filled the wizarding stream across the globe, sending shockwaves through homes of every magical being. Witches and wizards everywhere stopped what they were doing immediately.

“A message from the Dark Lord?”, a wizard in Poland asked his wife.

“Merlin’s ballsack...is there not a way to turn this bloody thing off?”, a witch in India complained. “I’ve never met a wizard as fucking egotistical as this man. Just likes to hear himself talk”, she rolled her eyes.

“Shhhhh! Fembley, be quiet - the Dark Lord is broadcasting something!”, a French witch told her boyfriend in excitement.

“Great. Another show of executions, or is this a sequel to his psychotic public torture of that poor muggle-born girl?”, an Irish wizard said sarcastically.

The static cleared to reveal a young girl - likely 17 or 18 years of age. A witch. Her deep brown eyes looked panicked and her words and mannerisms were hectic and rushed.

The girl’s breathing was heavy in the ears of viewers and her hair was slightly frazzled. “I don’t have m-much time”, she stuttered as she spoke to them. “My name is Hermione Granger and I was a member of the resistance in the war. I’ve been a prisoner here since May.”, her hands were shaking as she glanced around behind her as if waiting for an attack at any moment.

“I need h-help. P-please. Anyone. If you’re out there Ron, I miss you. I need you”, she bit her cheeks stressfully. I’m at the house of the ferret”, she stated as if it were code.

Hermione knew only a select few people, if alive, would understand what she meant. “To the Incendiaries - I know what you’re doing. But coming from the inside, please be careful. Whatever you do, don’t come storming into London. I’ll find a way out, just don’t risk your lives to help me, please. I may be a lost cause, but I needed to speak to you one last time. I love you Ron.”

That was the last thing she said before a set of large, pale hands grabbed her by the collar, yanking her backwards and flashing a head of white hair before the broadcast returned to static.

Hermione sighed, clearing her throat and putting her mask back on. Turning to face Voldemort with a serious expression, she stated, “They’ll take the bait, I’m sure of it. They most likely have a few people already on their way to London by now.”

Her voice was even but her insides quaked with fear and nervousness. She was questioning this plan. Questioning her plan. What would she do if it all went up in flames? She’d never forgive herself if anyone she loved got hurt, but she needed back-up. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. She had already killed an innocent and placed the bait for her old friends.

Little did Voldemort know she’d still be on their side. She was putting on quite the performance if she did say so herself.

Draco’s jaw clicked with tension - a tell-tale sign of his anxiety manifesting itself visibly. Voldemort didn’t notice, but Hermione did. Even if she didn’t see it, she could feel his distress, and she was almost certain he could feel hers. Their connection was stronger somehow these days. It started when his dragon mark appeared on his chest, which he continued to hide carefully from anyone but her.

Hermione wore all black now, which was reminiscent of the days when she first got the Sanguis Stigma. Except now, although unmarked, she was dressed this way as a Death Eater. A poser. A fake. She wore a black, silk, button-up top with matching pants and robes. Her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was sure to hide her new uniform in the broadcast, avoiding giving anything away or giving the wrong impression to the Incendiaries.

Voldemort clapped slowly, flashing that repulsive smile that could rot corpses. “Well done, Hermione” It was poisonous to her hearing - him saying her name. As if someone poured acid into her ear drums, letting it sizzle and seep in.

“Thank you, my Lord”, she said with a bow of her head. Draco clicked his jaw again. She could practically feel his thoughts. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. She knew what he hated - feeling as if he had no control. Her being here. The plan. All of it.

~~~

Song: Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

While the Daily Prophet didn’t comment on Hermione’s broadcast, which was more than predictable, the streets of London filled with gossip. Word was spreading like wildfire. Any wizard or witch who missed the broadcast heard about it before long.

The Dark Territories were concerned - why was the Dark Lord holding a mudblood prisoner? Other countries were outraged he had held an innocent witch hostage. Things were heating up quickly like a crucible just waiting to tip over.

But this was a part of her plan. Make everyone question him - even those who supported Voldemort. Everything was falling into place - like pieces of a puzzle. Just as she predicted. Maybe she wasn’t so poor at divination after all...Hermione smirked at the thought, but Draco stared at her with concern.

“Hermione…”, he began from where he sat by his fireplace, staring at her as she stood on the balcony, admiring the property that was covered in snow. She turned her head to look at him, pulling away from her thoughts. Retribution is just around the corner…

She strode towards him with a smirk. She was different these days and Draco didn’t know how to feel about it. She was becoming more like him, and he didn’t want that. At all. Visions of her killing Warbeck in the same fashion that he executed people...they haunted his dreams every night.

Hermione climbed onto his lap slowly, straddling his legs in her uniform. She looked...powerful. He loved seeing her so confident. So head-strong. So bold. Transcendent. Bewitching. Addictive. A rose in a garden of weeds…

“Yes?”, she purred into his ear, running her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his back. He closed his eyes, taking in the sensation.

“I’m worried about you, love”, he stated quietly. Her hands froze in their tracks. She quirked an eyebrow in question. “This...this isn’t you”, Draco said, gesturing to her all black clothing that matched his. Her Death Eater uniform. Nothing made sense anymore. Not since his mother died.

She leaned back slightly but remained in his lap, hands resting delicately on his shoulders. Hermione nodded her head slightly before turning her eyes on his. “This is me. It just took tremendous loss for me to get my ass up and take control”, she said darkly. He knew she was right, and he loved her the more for it. For being so clever, but it still was concerning. He wanted to protect her.

“I don’t need you to protect me”, she seethed, sensing his thoughts. “I need you. I love you. But I can protect myself. In fact, I don’t need protecting at all.” She ticked her jaw now, much like him, feeling defensive.

“I know you don’t, does that mean I can’t worry?”, he asked, brushing curls behind her ear and resting his palm on her cheek.

“It means you shouldn’t worry”, she placed a delicate kiss on his lips, reveling in his warmth. “You trust me, and I trust you. As long as we have each other, that’s all we need.”

He nodded against her, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her flush to him - chest to chest. “I’d do anything for you Hermione. You don’t have to command me, and I don’t have to command you. Just ask. Anything and it’s yours”, he whispered into her ear.

She pulled back, resting her forehead on his. “Draco...I need...I need you to kill him”, she said. It was like a blow to the chest. Saying these words out loud. They both knew someone had to do it.

“What if I can’t? Potter wasn’t successful. What if we kill the snake and still can’t kill him? Of course I’ll die trying if that’s what it takes but...”, he asked genuinely, searching her eyes.

She swallowed roughly, gathering the strength to share her thoughts - her recent realizations. “He has the Elder Wand”, she stated. Factual.

Draco nodded, “that’s why I’m concerned.”

“Well...I did some research”, she began. “Of course you did”, he smirked at her, placing heated kisses along her collarbone and causing her to gasp between her words.

“What if killing the owner of the Elder Wand isn’t the way to claim it?”, he froze in his tracks at her words, pulling back to stare at her with a shocked expression.

“I’ve...done some research and...it’s led me to believe you have to disarm them for it to work. Who last disarmed Dumbledore?”, she asked genuinely.

Draco swallowed heavily, realization sinking in. “Me”, he whispered as his eyes wandered the room.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, turning his head softly to look at her. “Has anyone disarmed you since then? Anyone? I only vaguely remember that night when...Bellatrix...anyway”, she cleared her throat. “Did Harry? Ron? Anyone?”

He shook his head softly. He was nervous now. Do I possess the Elder Wand? Is it mine?

“I think that’s part of the reason Harry lost”, she stated seriously. “Aside from Nagini, Voldemort had the Elder Wand, even if he didn’t possess it, it would still be stronger than Harry. But...he hasn’t used it on you, correct?”

Draco shook his head again. “Tortured me a few times but nothing…”, he trailed off.

“Lethal”, Hermione finished for him. Their eyes connected in realization, excitement growing. “Draco...you could kill him. If we kill the snake, you could end this. You can kill Voldemort”

Their breathing was heavy and it was like the thread between them snapped. They attacked each other’s lips feverishly, molding and meshing with each other.

Hermione slid her robes down her arms as Draco began to unbutton her shirt, attaching his lips to the top of her breast when it was finally exposed. He sucked viciously until a red circle formed there and he moved to create another. Her head dropped back as a moan escaped her lips.

He continued until her shirt was gone and he was unhooking her bra. She followed his lead, unbuttoning his shirt as well. She stopped when a hum ran through her body. They froze. Her hand on his chest, over his mark. His hand over the mark on her arm. The marks glowed again. They had no idea what it meant, but the connection excited them wildly, driving their eagerness and igniting the flame.

She slid back off of his lap to stand. Removing her pants and knickers as he moved to do the same, slipping off his shoes, trousers, and boxers. His belt made a delicious clink when it slid from the loops.

She took his hand, leading him this time, and pushed him back on the bed. She climbed on top of him slowly to straddle his hips, meeting his lips again as she aligned him with her core. They groaned into each other’s mouths.

“I love you”, they said in a unison, and a chill swept across their bodies, like flipping an electric switch - the voltage spreading rapidly. Hermione finally slid down onto him, slowly, taking her time as her walls wrapped around him tightly.

She gasped as she lowered herself, raised up, and repeated the movement slowly. Draco placed his hands on her hips before snapping his into her, filling her completely. “Fuck…”, he groaned, taking her over and over again. He could never get enough. She couldn’t either. They were each other’s drug. Each other’s gasoline. Each other’s match. One strike was all it took and they were engulfed in flames together.

He flipped over on top of her, pulling one of her legs up to rest over his shoulder so he could change the angle. She gasped at how deep he reached now, moaning his name over and over until her voice was hoarse.

“Promise me”, she begged as he drove into her repeatedly, sweat forming on their bodies.

“Anything”, he answered with heavy breaths, struggling to choose a focal point between her face, her body, and where they were joined.

“Promise me we’ll win”, she was gasping with pleasure as the euphoria climbed higher and higher up her spine. “We have to win”, she said, grabbing his face and pulling him to her so she could capture his lips. Claim them. “It’s the only option”

His eyes darkened to a steel-grey. “I promise”, he said as they both climaxed, bodies slick with moisture and brains fried from the overwhelming pleasure. The dragons glowed. Together. As one. Solidifying their connection, solidifying his promise.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.