More of the Same

Exactly one week later, Hermione found herself in the most extravagant dream yet. The first thing Hermione felt in her dream was the wind blowing through her long hair. It was the first clue she had that this was a dream from Malfoy. She reached up and felt a mass of tumbling curls and loose braids sweeping around the back of her head. As the scenery filled in, she found she was standing on elegant marble steps that led out to a white sand beach. Beyond the sand lay an infinite ocean of impossibly blue water. Between her and the water was a remarkably long, formal dining table with a chair at each end. Seeing that one of the chairs was occupied by a man's silhouette, Hermione let out an exasperated sigh.

She began to move forward ready to get the dream over with, when she felt smooth, cool satin undulate around her legs. Looking down, Hermione found herself in a satin dress the colour of the ocean. The skirts were full and flowing, and the neckline split the snug bodice It started at the fullest part of her cleavage and finished in a high collar that showcased the delicate lines of her neck. She knew this combination would make her look extremely feminine in a sophisticated manner. Truth be told, it was a little too seductive for Hermione's comfort.

She began walking again, feeling the warm sand press through her toes as she approached the table. Draco stood when she finally met him and took her hands gently in his own. He placed a kiss on the back of both. Hermione ached to whip her hands away from him, but couldn't do anything but watch as Draco pulled her hands gently away from her body and took a long look at her in the dress.

"Sublime," he commented, a true boyish smile gracing his features. "I'm so glad you could join me for dessert."

Hermione heard someone thank him kindly. It was Draco's Hermione doll, the one whose eyes she looked out through in these dreams. What a farce!

Draco dropped one hand and led her to stand in between his chair and the table. However, he did not sit. Instead, he pressed his hips against her, which forced her to perch awkwardly on the edge of the table.

"I'm going to have you tonight, Granger." Draco's voice was quiet, but not a whisper. It had determination and drive behind it. "I'm going to have you, and you are going to like it. I'm going to have you begging in short order."

Hermione thought his approach was like that of a man getting ready to defuse a bomb. She looked him over. He wore a satin shirt in a darker shade of blue than her own. Its cut emphasised his broad shoulders and tapered torso. His grey eyes looked silver, but there were also flecks of sparkling blue. The way he looked over her put her on edge. His gaze was unfamiliar without the malice from when they'd been at Hogwarts.

Finally, Draco leaned forward and kissed her exactly between her eyebrows. "Beautiful, Granger." His hands slid up her satin covered arms, shoulders, and neck before stopping to gently cradle her head. His thumbs rested in front of her ears. It felt very secure, and that sense of security set off all of Hermione's alarms.

Draco dropped his head, bumping her nose with his before pressing his lips down the left side of her jaw. His right hand traced the neckline of her dress, his fingers brushing over her belly before taking a firm hold at the bottom of her ribs.

"You wasted yourself pining for Weasley. It was obvious to anyone who thought about it for two seconds," Draco whispered against her neck before nipping it and pressing his soft lips over it. He switched sides, dropping his left hand to her waist as well and lifting her up so she could sit on the table.

Draco insinuated himself between her legs and licked her right ear, scraping it gently with his teeth. "You would have been wasted on nearly any bloke." His tongue entered her ear in the most delightful way. Had she had the ability, Hermione would have swallowed at the sensation that mixed with the contempt she felt for him.

Draco's thumbs began gently stroking the undersides of her breasts through her dress. In the dream, the Hermione doll arched her back just barely, and Hermione's thoughts were assailed with the sensations of Draco's teeth and mouth on her increasingly exposed neck. In the waking world, Hermione's body began to writhe gently in her bed as she slept in her hammock.

"You know, if you'd stayed at home, you might have been pregnant by now." Draco kissed her collarbone as his hands began to stroke the curves down to her hips and up again. Hermione was pleased; that was just the thing she needed to hear to keep her resistance up. She needed it as his tongue swept lower and lower, following her neckline. "If we'd had our babies right away, by the time they were done at Hogwarts, you'd still be a young," lick "beautiful," lick "brilliant witch."

Shite. That was not going to help her keep her head clear. Of course Draco would say anything to get his way. Hermione just had to keep that in mind. This became extremely difficult when he palmed both of her breasts and squeezed firmly. From somewhere, the doll moaned, and Draco's smile beamed with a smug backlight.

"I would have brought any Master to the Manor so you could still apprentice, Granger." He pulled away enough to look her in the eye for a moment. "I had one lined up for me to do Potions. He's still in queue, but this little..." Draco's gaze became annoyed and he twisted her nipples for a moment, "...jaunt has delayed my plans." Draco leaned forward and pressed his mouth against her ear again. "You think I'd let that brain of yours rot for the rest of our lives?" He nipped her ear rudely before massaging it with his lips. "I want a wife, not a whore." Draco's hand began to work all the buttons down the front of her dress. As each was undone, the sliver of flesh that showed became wider and longer. The last one, just below her navel, opened, and Draco snaked his hand inside and around her.

Hermione could feel his strong arm behind her. Her mind was whirling with the things he was saying. Then she felt a breeze across her bare chest, and her attention was brought back just as he said, "Well, I want you to act like a whore sometimes." His smirk pressed into her nipple, and then she felt him suck as much as he could into his mouth.

The doll moaned, and Hermione hated that she might have had to agree at the moment. Draco was pulling her dress off of her shoulders, one hand supporting her. Slowly and gently, he scraped his teeth over her areola and nipple before turning his head to assault the other breast in just the same way.

When he was done, Draco laid Hermione down on the table, her top half bared. The dress was pushed down to her hips, and if it hadn't been a dream, she might have been uncomfortable on the wrinkles of fabric. However, all she could do was watch from inside the doll as she panted and writhed. In her hammock in the waking world, Hermione's body was doing the same.

Draco stood and pushed both hands through his hair, captivated by the image in front of him. Hermione, half naked, laid out on a beautiful dining table for his consumption. "Time for dessert," he muttered distractedly. Draco stepped back and sat in his chair, looking like a king on a throne, and pulled himself into the table.

He grabbed Hermione's thighs and pulled so that her arse came to the edge of the table. She felt her skirts caressing her thighs. Draco pushed the fabric up onto her belly, exposing her bare cunt. Hermione could hear a low growl, which made her wish that she could sit up and see just what he was doing.

"Stay."

The command was followed by Draco spreading Hermione's legs. Quickly, he pressed two fingers through her labia, unfolding them so he could see her quim. Two fingers from his other hand immediately penetrated her, thrusting into her.

The doll moaned in delight, her back arching. Hermione's focus was lost now that Draco was massaging her in such a way.

"You won't be cumming. I won't have any early departures tonight," Draco informed her before he pressed the flat of his tongue at the very bottom of her slit and began lapping the whole distance slowly again and again. It was delightful, but it was also torturous. Eventually, he moved both of her thighs over his shoulders, using his tongue to fuck her slowly.

She was delicious, which didn't surprise Draco one bit. He could think of no better place to be than between her thighs. Soon her rolling hips matched the rhythm of his tongue, although it seemed like her drive was a little more frantic than his. To Draco, it didn't matter that he wasn't actually tasting her. Simply knowing that some part of her wanted more from him was a sweet enough reward.

Hermione looked out at the dreamscape, her muscles twitching gently. She knew she could easily cum, and it would really take very little effort on his part. She also figured that he knew as much and was keeping her near the precipice on purpose.

After what seemed like an eternity of his gentle tongue fucking, Hermione felt his hands slide up her thighs. Her gaze lolled over to him, and soon he was standing, only her feet resting on his shoulders, and his hands stroking her legs.

"I'm going to fuck you now." Draco clenched his fingers around her calves for a moment before continuing their firm massage. "It's a shame that I can't actually fuck you, Granger." Draco scowled down at her for a moment. "A bloody shame. But after tonight, you'll know. All you have to do is come home." Draco paused to position his cock at her entrance. "And you can have as much of this as you want." With that last thought, Draco pushed his cock in all the way.

They both moaned loudly. Draco didn't move. That feminine voice whimpered piteously, and Hermione could feel her hips rolling, trying to encourage him to proceed.

"Beg."

Hermione could hear the voice begin to plead, complimenting his size and telling him how good it felt. The only thing that achieved was a slight shift. Draco was reaching forward to grip her jaw firmly but gently.

"One day, Granger. One day you will beg." Draco pulled his cock back slowly. He began fucking her so slowly, infuriatingly, maddeningly slowly. The worst part was the way he pinned her there with his gaze. Hermione felt like her will had crumbled to dust.

Draco began speeding up, the desire to take his time destroyed by the hormones of being a teenager. He couldn't help himself now that he was in. He never broke his gaze, though. "One day." His free hand moved to stroke her clit, and Hermione was lost to a wave of sensation.

He was fucking her harder and harder, deeper and faster every second. Finally his thumb brushed her clit in just the right way. Her body, in the dream and in her hammock, arched up, and the pained cry of her glorious orgasm rang through her cottage.

The cries lasted even after she was awake, the seconds seeming like aeons, until her body was left with aftershocks. As her body came down, and the waves of elation settled, Hermione felt her heart plummet. Draco had fucked her and she'd loved it. The thought of fighting harder flickered through her mind, but she dismissed firmly. She had no control over these dreams, none at all.

That didn't prevent the remains of her dinner from churning in her stomach. She rolled to the end of the hammock, getting her head over the edge just in time to vomit all over her floor. The gentle sway of the hammock didn't help. Once everything had settled, she reached for the flannel in the bowl and wiped the sick from her mouth. With a flick of her wrist, the mess on the floor was gone.

Hermione rolled back into the centre of her bed and curled up into herself. Acara bumped Hermione in the knee, and soon the girl was cuddled around her beast, unable to make heads or tails of her situation.

Time passed. Hermione was on her second period since Harry had told her that Draco and his father were travelling. She didn't know how to feel about this. Most days she thought of it not at all, but sometimes, lying in her bed at night after she dreamed of him, she would. Tonight was like that. Acara was sprawled across her torso, purring, while Hermione stroked her. She was the best hot water bottle ever, and Hermione's cramps were nearly gone now. Hermione's other hand traced the brand at the back of her neck, Draco dominating her thoughts.

Up until three weeks ago, two weeks after he'd left Britain for Colchis, she'd spared him less than half a thought. Now, she dreamed of him every night. It made her think of Harry and Voldemort, Draco giving her these dreams. Or was he just dreaming of her? Most of the time, the dreams were sexual, and twice now she'd woken up in the middle of an orgasm that the dream had brought on. Gods, but the Arse was a Beautiful, Sensual Arse. His hair was a little longer than hers, now that she was keeping it cropped around her chin. She wondered if he'd lost all his hair, too, and laughed at the thought of him bald.

Other times, the dreams were just nice. Once, Hermione was lying against Draco on an oversized chaise lounge. She was reading to him while he played with her hair. The dream was sweet and perfect, but as always, she woke up feeling disgusted with herself. The sodding prick had changed laws to buy her, for Circe's sake! She'd broken her wand because of that!

Of course, Hermione would never give up this life. She had planned to come here and surrender her wand to train and maybe, maybe one day become an elemental mage. From the first time Malfoy had uttered the word Mudblood, and every time after, she had dreamed of a place where her magic would simply be accepted. That place certainly wasn't Britain. In some ways, Malfoy was the centre of this whole thing from the beginning. Hermione wished she could escape him, but this dragon on her neck prevented that. She stroked her cat and her dragon brand and wondered what would come of all this.

Draco had the hardest erection of his life. She was playing with the brand, and every touch she made was translated onto his chest. It would be so easy to close his eyes and imagine her here, under his arm, toying with him. He wouldn't wank now, though; he'd wait until he saw her in his dreams.

Draco was lying in a posh establishment in southwestern Colorado. Initially, he'd hated the bloody States and wasn't sure why the Brits had come here in the first place. He'd nearly AK'ed numerous Muggle children as they scampered around him in the disgusting Muggle ruins. Fortunately, his father had kept him grounded, and when they had Disillusioned themselves and had gone down a path for "employees only," Draco had been glad he'd not committed any Unforgiveables.

While the Muggle ruins were mildly interesting because they were built into the mountainside at such a height, they were pretty disgusting as they were simply mud condos. On the interior of the mountain was the polar opposite. The condos were lavish grottos. Some were whitewashed while others were dyed with colours from the native plants. Everywhere, fine goods were available like Draco had never seen in Diagon Alley. He was almost sad that they wouldn't be staying longer, but Hermione was certainly not here, so it was time to move on. In the morning, he and Lucius took a Portkey to Mexico City.

Hermione was at a ball. It was a masked ball. She looked down and saw a mask that looked a little like Acara's face in her hand. She moved to put it on her face, but a pale hand reached out and stopped her. Hermione looked up as Draco swept in behind her.

"No more hiding from me," Draco whispered into her ear before he pulled her earlobe in between his lips. His mouth was hot and wet, and Hermione could feel her skin tingling in response.

"But, good sir, it's a masked ball." Hermione heard the words that were supposed to be coming from her. Preparing for Draco's mind to play with his Hermione-doll, Hermione's own subconscious was working on trying to see as much as possible so she could analyse it in the morning.

"Ah, yes, but you see, it is my masked ball," Draco said against her neck from behind as he slid Hermione's dress off her shoulders. She looked down at his hands and saw that a trumped-up version of her dress from the Yule Ball was being pressed to the floor. Hermione looked up again and saw that the other people in the room were beginning to literally vanish. Hermione was able to look about, and she saw the vaulted cathedral ceilings and royal blue and burgundy parquet floor. "I love dancing with you, Princess. You do feel like a princess, don't you?"

The Hermione-doll replied in the affirmative. Hermione looked to see Draco smiling at her with possessive pride in his eyes. She wished she could do anything more than play along in these bloody dreams, although she had found through reviewing her dreams that it seemed to be increasingly easy for Draco to manipulate them. Hermione wasn't sure who to be angrier at: Draco for doing this in the first place or herself for losing her will to resist so quickly.

The next thing she knew, Hermione, and the doll that she always was in the dreams, were pressed against luxurious burgundy velvet curtains, held in place by Draco, who was also completely starkers.

"Where are you, Princess?" Draco whispered as he cupped her breasts and pressed his lips over her forehead. He was being gentle, trying to lure Hermione into acting consciously inside of his dream. She had noticed this trend a couple nights prior. He wanted her to respond so they could end this wild goose chase. Draco rolled Hermione's nipples, and she shivered.

"I'm right here," the doll replied. This was very different from the sputtering oaths and hexes Hermione's mind wanted to add, but she was impotent here; she could only receive whatever Draco wanted and wait impatiently to wake up.

Draco pressed his hard cock against her belly, and they both shivered, looking into each other's eyes. "Don't you want me to give you this?" He reached down and teased his finger in between her labia until he found her clit. "I know you want to take my cock, Hermione. You hardly even resist anymore."

It was true; without even realising it, Hermione found herself with her arms around Draco's neck and her nose in his neck, just below his Adam's apple. She was breathing heavily. Her belly moved against his cock, and Hermione knew she was getting wet.

Draco moved them to lay down on what was now a bed with burgundy velvet sheets. Hermione found her hands to be tied above her head. They were clasped together just as they had been around Draco's neck. He was kneeling beside her, one hand jerking his cock while the other fingered her pussy, as now her legs were spread wide. Hermione felt his gaze roll over her body, and she couldn't keep her hips from rolling as his fingers began to thoroughly work into her. Hermione was mostly thrilled; apart from the disgust of not really wanting The Ferret to use her like this, he was doing a splendid job, and Hermione knew that she couldn't sleep through an orgasm. As soon as she came, she'd be out of here. It was getting two birds with one stone.

Her legs spread shamelessly; Hermione closed her eyes, unaware that the doll had as well, as she was feeling the tides of her orgasm building. She also didn't catch it when, as Draco abruptly pulled his fingers out of her pussy as she broached the precipice, her unfulfilled whimper matched that of the doll, almost as if they were the same being.

~~~~~~~~~~

Draco watched Hermione's face as he moved the fingers that had just been in her cunt into his mouth. Her mouth opened into the sexiest little pout of disappointment. Her arms were secured over her head, so she had no recourse for what he knew would be a dire need to cum. He wouldn't allow it, though, as she had yet to sleep through an orgasm, and he was nowhere near done with her. Draco had taken a sedative before bed; he wanted to sleep through his orgasm so he could really enjoy Hermione for as long as possible.

"Now, Granger...Hermione..." Draco said as he licked the last of her juices from his hand. He may not know what she tasted like in reality, but the dream said she was good, and the very premise of suckling her juices made him hard. "I can't let you cum because then you'll go away. I'm not going to let you go away anymore, if I can help it." Draco looked down at her chest for a moment and knelt lower to rub his precum on her darkened nipple. Feeling the soft, uneven texture of her nipple on the head of his penis made Draco shiver, and he nearly came right then.

He looked up into her face and saw that she was staring at his cock on her breast. "You want my cock, Hermione?" Draco held her chin and pressed his cock to her lips. "Lick it, Princess." Hermione's little pink tongue slid out and went around his sensitive head a few times. "Yes, Princess, just like that."

Hermione was getting aroused again, in a slightly different way. Draco's breath was getting ragged, and she loved when she could shut The Ferret up. The power of finally seeing him lose his damned smirk was thrilling.

"Your mouth looks so good near my cock, Princess. I can't wait for you to suck it outside of our little dream world. You're going to beg for my cock when we meet again." Draco looked down at Hermione, her eyes closed as she sucked on his cock. Her cheeks caved in just a little bit, and again, Draco started cumming. He pulled out of her mouth and watched as he coated her lips and neck. When looked down at her heaving chest, he let out a shaking breath and wiped his half hard cock on her breasts.

Her knees were bent up, her feet trying to find purchase on the bed. "Look at me," Draco ordered. Hermione turned her eyes to his. She was starting to catch her breath. "Where are you, Hermione? Tell me now." Draco slid his hand over her mound and two fingers stroked her cunt for a moment. Hermione closed her eyes and arched back into his hand. Suddenly, she felt his hand slap her pussy. "I said, 'Look at me.'" She did. He slapped her quim again. "Where are you, Hermione?"

Hermione threw her legs wide open, arching into his hand, which was now spanking her cunt in a steady rhythm. Each time, Hermione's walls would clench, his fingers and palm smarting her quim in the perfect way. She was so close. Draco's gaze was sliding from her face to her quim, which was so juicy for him; Draco knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

Draco looked up into Hermione's face and saw her eyes clear. It was that moment when she broke through whatever was keeping her climax at bay and came. As her body began the beautiful agony of her orgasm, she yelled, "NO!" and woke in her little cottage. Hermione was panting heavily. Out of a newly formed habit, she reached over to a bowl of water with a flannel in it. Wiping herself clean, she moved straight to her dream journal and wrote down as much as she could.

Draco had woken up when Hermione had yelled at him. He was groggy from the sedative, but he couldn't keep his mind from turning over Hermione's face at the end of the dream. It was as if she'd just come out from under the Imperius Curse. Her eyes shone like they had when she'd smacked him in third year. Had their subconsciouses connected? It was an acceptable consolation to her sudden departure.

Had she really cum because he'd spanked her quim? Would she do it again in their marriage bed? Draco had... dabbled in pleasurable pain, as it seemed part and parcel with his desire to dominate Hermione completely. His mind's eye flashed the image of Hermione's mouth, chin, and neck covered in his seed, and Draco let out a contented sigh. He would find out soon enough.