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an-abyss-of-stars · 3 months ago

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𖤓 Don't You Dare Do This Without Me 𖤓 Ch. 4

Pairing: Rhaena x Aemond

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (f), teasing

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: Aemond faces off against his pregnant dragoness and does his best to coax her into bed with him...Rhaena is having none of it...at first...

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ao3 |

Notes: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT ...incominggg

A little bit of oral to start...

As the heavy aged doors of his royal chambers closed behind him, a sense of deep seeded calm and serenity seeped into his very bones. Aemond had even closed his eye, slipped off his eye patch as he took a deep settling breath. Inhaling that sweet fresh scent before he exhaled heavily, a silent wordless prayer to his soul.

He already felt slightly healed compared to how he had felt before he'd entered the castle.

"Ao sagon arlī," you're back.

Mmmm…

He'd know her voice anywhere, that soft delicate timbre that was clearly priming like a prelude to a violent storm. Though, at that moment he could care less about the impending danger, she still felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the ever enduring lecture he'd just subjected himself to. Here, it was so easy to ignore the inevitable when his heart ached at the sound of her voice. His blood trilled at the sound of her effortlessly rolled R's, the silky tone that fluttered from her lips in their family's ancient tongue.

"Iksan," I am, Aemond only managed to breathe the word, slowly opening his eye to find her standing before him. A sudden apparition, she'd appeared like a vision. All glittery and alight, utter perfection in her crimson velvety gown. Black lace dragons and flowers intricately embroidered to contrast the red silk. Fitted taut to her bodice, while her skirts flowed loosely. It was as he remembered, the dress she’d had on when he’d initially charged out of this room hours ago.

That dress…it was stirring it all up again, that storm within him. The things he'd wanted from her…the very things she'd denied him.

And just like before…he couldn't help himself. The trajectory of where his eye often fell these days, the slightest exposure of her cleavage that led to the ample heft of her milk filled breasts. The near animalistic, unfettered urge to reach for them now...to ignore the battle she so obviously wished to have in favour of tearing her dress from her body. Uttering whatever empty agreement she'd need reached just to have her settled upon his lap, to allow him access to her pillowy bare mounds. He still so wished to bury his face there, to massage the tender soreness away as he usually did around this time for her.

It would soothe him to do so, he knew it would.

Just as he was sure he could ease the growing pressure and discomfort she was surely feeling. If she'd only give herself over to him, allow him the access he craved from her.

To take to her teat with vigor….the act of freely suckling from her.

It was the image of it, the wanting…he was sick with it. The all-consuming need to have her in his arms, to be wrapped and curled around her soft body.

He almost wanted to groan aloud, the frustration was giving way to something more. Burning him deep within his center, causing restless shivers to unnerve his entire being.

To be frank, she was already standing so close. Rhaena had waddled her way over to him, standing at her full height…just barely reaching the height of his shoulder. The close proximity of her had raised the speed in which his heart thumped within his chest. It was arousal and fury that coursed within him now, that irritation that itched at him, it was leading him to some rather unsightly places within his mind.

At the sight of her presence alone, he could envision scooping her up without a word. Furiously carrying her to their bed and having his way with her.

It would have been easy.

And in that moment, in the darkest seed of his mind…he figured he’d blame her for it.

She’d allowed these needs of his to fester, she’d rebuffed him when all he had wanted was her company...physical company. And now he hungered for more…he hungered for every inch of her. That rage that always laid within him, a sunken gorge filled with black tar…it craved her very essence.

Blood would not satiate this.

He could see that now, Aemond could tell by the fire roaring in his veins. It wouldn‘t have mattered how many people he’d killed to numb the feeling, how many villages, cities, ships…scorched earth or not.

His salvation was here…

So what would it take?

The weakness she’d managed to embed in him, stitched to the core of his heart…he still needed her to enjoy his touch. He couldn’t stomach causing another situation in which she laid unmoving and unfeeling beneath him, the wretched feeling of fucking what felt like a lifeless corpse was not satisfying in the least. Nor was mere thought of ever repeating a mirror to the night she cried beneath him a few years prior.

What he wanted…was to return to this morning. The way she’d been before the sun rose…before everything went to shit.

As Rhaena stopped inches away from him, her face came into clear view, tilting upwards to catch his gaze. Aemond’s mind untangled as she garnered his full undivided attention. Her beautiful soft visage, the faint smattering of freckles upon the apple of her cheeks. Her pale eyes sparkling in the light of the late afternoon sun, with her plush heart-shaped lips, he watched intensely as they settled into a rather firm line at the sight of him, "ao iēdrosa yknagon hen ōrbar se zaldrīzes's perzys…Iksā ribazmoqitta, ao gīmigon bona ȳdra daor ao," you still smell of smoke and dragon's fire…you are mad, you know that don't you.

Ah, he should have known...

Sweet words would not be bestowed upon him just yet.

Biting his lower lip, he sought to fight the sinister grin that threatened to form upon his face. It wasn’t the bloom of pride that spread within his gut, but something remarkably similar was working its way through him. Because, of course she’d started at him in this way. Nodding her head slightly as if to prove that this was an absolute certainty she’d directed at him. That he must be mad, how else would he have chosen to act as he did…her eyes said it all. Her words wielded at him like a blade, her voice even held a slight edge to it. Something so faint, so miniscule, it was a wonder he could detect such differences in her tone at all.

But he knew his wife well, she could be just as petty as he could. Hurling such specific words at him…aiming for his ego, his heart.

Oh, how she often wished to wound him.

As he’d wounded her so many years ago.

Though, in his case he’d purposely isolated her to the point of no return. Taken from her that which could never be returned to her…she’d never have her loved ones back. And truthfully she knew, with Helaena gone, Aemond had no one else she could or would ever harm that would matter to him truly. Choosing not to foster a relationship with his mother did not cut him the way she probably would have hoped that it would. And she loved their children far too much to ever harm them…so really, she could never strike at him in a way that lasted.

But she could always jab at him, personally, remind him of his sins…his faults.

She so loved to insult him.

And he so loved to feign coyness, purposely allowing that dark grin of his to properly stretch upon his curved lips. Easing his chin upwards, truly looking down at her with a heavily lidded gaze. Scanning her face and finding joy in the pretty yet infuriated look upon it, Aemond then lowered his voice down an octave, "ao kessa emagon naejot ȳrda ziry ilagon, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys," you shall have to narrow it down, my sweet wife.

Surely in the grand scheme of things it didn't really matter. Like Lucerys, the boy was dead...intent or not. Regret or no. This farming village was torched to the ground. Why he did it, no longer really mattered now that it was done. Besides, the move was calculated enough…he had his own misgivings to sift through when the dust settled. But in the interim, all he cared about now was fulfilling the wants he was denied several hours ago.

He wanted his wife in their bed and this time he would have her there.

Slowly but surely, he was closing the gap between them, taking relaxed yet precise steps towards her. That urge to tug her against him spiked like a beacon, the closer he was…the more he eyed her entire form. With the way her gentle slender hands caressed her stomach absentmindedly, the sweet rounding swell of it. The evidence of their bonds, the ever enticing roundness of her swollen belly. It was hypnotic to him, the sight alone created so many heated notches along his spine. The knowledge of it, the reality that he alone fucked that child into her. Bred her perfectly, for the third time in a row. Three pregnancies, two births…not one complication thus far, surely a silent blessing from the Gods. A proven point as he’d always believed it to be true, they were fated to be with one another.

Rhaena Targaryen was made to be his Queen…no matter how much she liked to deny that fact whenever their arguments grew heated.

Whenever the fact that she had become the mother to the next generation of Targaryens to sit the throne…it weighed on her. Soon enough they’d have another…and soon enough he’d fill her with another…and another…

This constant state of pregnancy was a dream of his and now they were living it…and it was exquisite. His heartbeat battered within his chest, his gaze surely burned her as he watched her intently. Predatorily eyeing his prey, but his prey could read him. Rhaena stepped through the rays of sunlight like a goddess, soaking in all of his attention. Her tawny complexion warmed into a golden brown in the sun as her silvery-white twists that she'd sported pinned upon her head earlier in the morning. Had been loosened, unbound, draped behind her shoulders and down her back, leveling down to her waist.

He wanted to palm it.

To have her on all fours as he tugged a handful of it

Rutted himself deep inside of her warmth as he took her from behind…

Even in the details, his mind wandered…he tried to focus on what was right in front of him, Eyeing the roots of her hair, several soft wispy curls had slipped free from the loosened twists she'd kept for the week. And he could wonder then, that had he stayed in bed with her this morning, she would have told him that she found her current style in need of freshening. She would have hummed in his arms about the task of undoing them, combing through her pretty curly coils before she set about the intensive process of washing and caring for her hair.

And perhaps, he supposed such a topic should bore him...it probably would have if he’d been wed to anyone else. It certainly would for the average married nobleman. Yet, instead, Aemond found himself regretting having missed it. He’d regretted leaving as early as he did this morning, regretted cutting his time with her so soon. It was his will, to fixate on every little part of her…every aspect of her.

He’d cut himself off from her too soon.

And then she returned the favour.

Perhaps, he had done this to himself.

Rhaena’s pale lilac eyes gazed up at him heavily. Her brows set deeply then her expression faltered, she’d caught something in his eye…the look of it…the undeniable stark arousal within it. But she dared to push past it, boldly moving even closer to him. If he hadn’t known any better, Aemond would have wagered that his dragoness still wished to be in his embrace. Walking into his space like a prey would into a trap they already bore witness to.

She still wanted him…she only wished to be in the midst of combat with him while she indulged him.

And with her sweet scent drawing even closer...drowning him in it. A scent he was already addicted to, so potent with the source so near…he had the half the mind to acquiesce her unworded request. To drink her in…to steep himself in her scent and clear his mind entirely.

Ah, and now her cheeks were reddening, her body heated as her voice hitched before she levelled it, "ao gīmigon olvie skoros ao gōntan! Ao zaltan iā lentor ilagon! Kesrio syt nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot qogralbar pirtir lēda ao!?" you know exactly what you did! You burned a village down! Because I did not wish to fucking lie with you!?

Oh how she knew him well, his little wife knew he paid far more attention to her beratements when she spoke to him in High Valyrian. And now she was waiting for a reply she did not truly care to hear. Though he figured he'd give her one nonetheless, such a glutton he was for her form of punishment. Leaning in closely to her, so eager to push her emotions further, eager to draw her right into his arms whether it was through anger or sheer want. Whichever came first. So with his arms folded behind his back, he pouted slightly, “pār ao gīmigon olvie skoro syt, ao yenka emagon ilagontan lēda nyke. Ñuha byka ābrazȳrys," then you know exactly why, you should have lain with me. My little wife.

Rhaena groaned furiously, eager to hit him, he was sure. Baring her teeth, her face grew a slight tinge rosier. She was a sight in her fury, such an ethereal woman…such an adorable expression. As her hands fell to fists at her hips, she turned away from him quickly, growling lowly, “bisa iksis daor dōna. Issa daor kirimves. Ao daor gaomagon gomagho bisa!" This is not cute. It is not funny. You cannot keep doing this! She exclaimed, groaning as she finally aimed to step around him, her hands reaching up into her hair as she tugged in a semblance of decompression. Still, her moving around him forced his gaze to zero in on her heaving chest. The curvy swoop of her waist and the shapely width of her widened hips. A true hourglass figure, by the Gods…he’d never thought her body would only grow to morph into an even shapelier figure. Shifting with each childbirth, becoming even more enticing as time went on.

For, he was more than simply enthralled…he was entirely hard. His cock already straining against his breeches, tight and painfully full with need. All of that weight she gained for each babe…every part of her so curved and soft…round and plush and weighted.

He was losing focus, that much was clear.

It was obvious now, he couldn’t let her move away from him. As she had moved to step around him, his arm quickly snatched her forearm and pulled her back. She couldn’t help but follow the momentum, her weight tipping towards him as he already stood open armed and ready to catch her. And she did fall against him with a soft grunt. Already groaning when she felt his arms snake around her waist, his hands grabbing at her…pulling her flush against his firm body. Aemond could be unrelenting, patience having already long left his senses as he began to swarm her. Holding her soft body against him with such an unyielding grip, leaning into her, lowering himself down enough to nudge her nose with his own. In an effort to chase her lips…to pull her into his own hypnotic orbit.

Still, low effort as it was, she grunted and evaded his kiss.

This game…it was growing tiresome with such little reward being given.

Instead, he lowered himself further, burying his face in the crook of her neck, he smoothly lingered there. Breathing her in, nuzzling her there, grazing his lips along her warm skin. Just as his hot tongue began to drag along her pulse-

"Mmm…FUCK!" she screamed at him, the immediate switch back to the common tongue snapped his concentration for only a millisecond, but not long enough to release her. Not long to stop his warm pressing kisses. Rhaena, however, tried and failed to pull away, “stop it. Stop…I want you to focus! This is not a game, real people died!”

She was whining, so sweetly like that and yet she thought he’d be able to stop. All she’d done was entice him further, causing him to growl against her, tightening his hold of her. And really through it all he was just so fucking tired of hearing about that small inconsequential village, what did it matter to them. Land that held no Lord, land that had no real value. So many traitors lay there in the mist to begin with.

That rebellion that broke out near those lands.

So fucking near to Lannisport, not three days ride away…and yet, it was not House Lanny or House Lannett or even House Lantell that put down the rebellion before it could rise up. The three closest Houses to the lands of Oxcross…and yet they’d heard no word of a whisper. And they lifted not one finger to handle things on behalf of their sworn King.

Three Houses…three branches of distant kin to the residents of the equally near Casterly Rock.

House Lannister…the largest seat in the area. Sat by the young child of a Lord, Loreon Lannister. Or really in truth, the one who pulled the strings was still the Dowager Lady Johanna Westerling. If the Lannetts, the Lannys and the Lantells all deferred to her first. If she deterred them…if she still held bitterness over Aemond’s indifference to taking any of her daughters to wed as his Queen four years ago.

The suspicions were there.

To leave Lannisport so unguarded with a rebellion on the loose. One of the most major ports of the Seven Kingdoms, the largest settlement in the westerlands…and Lady Johanna did not call to have it put down sooner. Instead she waited for the aid of a dragon…she’d waited until Aemond had grown tired of the inaction and decided it was best to simply send his brother to deal with the mess.

There were facets to this…and yet his Queen only wished to speak about the insignificant lives that were lost when her husband still so clearly needed her focus to be put upon him. He could discuss his theories with her at length when his mind was settled…for now…he needed her.

With his teeth now grazing her skin, threatening to break the tenderness, threatening to leave a trail of several marks along her slender neck. Through it all, his growls grew darker, “I am not the one who needs to focus. You, my dear, are too preoccupied with lives that do not concern you.”

“Mmmm, but of course, nothing should supersede the needs of your wanting cock,” she scoffed, hoping to dig her nails in upon his biceps. As if she hoped her claws could pierce through the many layers he wore in his everyday life. Through his fine leather tunic, his layered jerkin, his under-cloth shirt. But it was the effort of it, he liked to know she was trying to bite back at him. Loved the feel of her arms draping over his shoulders if only for her nails to scratch at the nape of his neck. The delicious twinge of pain she elicited.

“I’m not going to tend to you now. Rewarding you for needless murder is not something I find to be enticing,” Rhaena posed the words as if she wished for him to respond to it, only to cut off the birth of silence she’d supplied him, “I did not even wish for you to leave earlier…I only wanted you to explain yourself. Instead you fly off and torch a village. You cannot keep doing that everytime I refuse to hold you. That's madness!"

Everytime? He’d only done it twice…and that would be including now. The first two were reckless enough, spontaneous acts of violence. But this one…well…if he included that other occasion…perhaps she could view this as three occurrences.

Even so, it could be equally argued that he could partially explain his destination this time.

Though to think, she wanted him to stay earlier…

Who would’ve thought.

Smirking against her neck, Aemond decided he was quite done with it all. He wanted to be in bed with her, so that is where they would continue this if it was her wish. Loosening his hold for only a minute, Rhaena eyed him curiously right as he leaned down and picked her up without warning. Cradling her to him bridal style, he settled her weight against him with ease. Finding pure comfort in holding her in his arms, balancing them both as he began to carry her through their solar.

“Aemond!” she gasped, her hands instantly clutching onto his chest for secured purchase, then she reached for the collar of his tunic, “you can’t-”

“You seem to be denying your King an awful lot today,” he responded dryly, unmoved by her little dramatic display as she even tried to wiggle out his hold at first. A futile effort that she thankfully abandoned soon enough. Reluctantly settling in against him almost immediately afterwards, draping her arm over his shoulder as he would have expected. Her frown setting deeper as she eyed him…that was also to be expected.

“I’m only exercising my authority. As your Queen, am I not allowed to speak freely,” she turned away from his gaze, pouting now, “besides…some denying would clearly do you some good, no one else will dare do it.”

A smirk spread across his face as he made long strides through their solar. Stepping over scattered toys as he weaved them around their furniture and headed towards their bedchamber. Sneaking in a warm pressing kiss to the dip of her temple before she could shirk away, he smirked, "I promise, dear girl. Others have dared today, my mother for one.”

Her lips smacked as she parted them, not out of shock or astonishment…more out of confusion…skepticism. She seemed to be at a loss for a response.

“Mmm…in either case, if you really are intent on lecturing me, I must admit, my mother has already beaten you to that as well. I’d rather not have to subject myself to another," the bass in his voice remained resonant, purring almost directly into her ear. He felt her shiver in his arms, watched her lips twitch before she began to nibble upon them.

When he carefully placed her down on their raised canopy bed, he could see her shoulders relax…the subconscious need to get off her feet finally setting in. She was so focused on arguing with him she’d begun to neglect herself, tsk tsk, “you know what's true madness in all this, is that you'd ever refuse me to begin with. I’ve never made our lovemaking so selfish, your needs would have been met.”

She'd rolled her eyes at that, parting her rose toned lips just as she sank her teeth down upon her lower lip, “I-...this is not a lecture, for one. You are not a child and I should not have to…ugh. Look, I would not have refused you if you’d left my seat upon the council intact…had you at the very least, given me the courtesy of a warning ahead of time…”

As she shifted herself upon the bed’s edge, Aemond took to kneeling in front of her. Eyeing her all the while, he made a small grimace.

And there it was…in the heat of their back and forth, Aemond knew his stubborn little wife wouldn’t have let it go.

Honestly, he hoped that she would have moved past that slight by now. In truth, he expected the majority of her anger towards him to be about the village. But the fucking council seat? That was the core of it all wasn't it. Running his fingers through his hair, he undid the braid he'd kept his hair in for most of the day, occupying his fingers with the action as he contemplated his response. In all fairness, he could have worded things kindly for her…seeing as she felt quite personally wounded about it all.

Then again, the facts of the matter seemed all too obvious to him to even bother.

“I am allowed to be upset with you…” she’d grumbled beneath her breath, crossing her arms in a huff, propping them underneath her bosom…pushing up her plump cleavage even more so.

With his heated gaze leveled upon her, he clenched his jaw, grinding it slightly, "I did not think you needed the word told directly by me. You're meant to be in confinement. You're nearly nine moons along, it is only right."

"Right? You gave me no warning! And I know my body well enough, I do not need you to tell me when it's time to be put in confinement! I'm not a horse, there is no period in my pregnancies in which I wish to be locked here in this room again," she huffed, with the intention of standing up and walking away from him. However, that was not going to happen. Aemond was quick to place his large hands down upon her thighs, keeping her seated with a gentle set of force.

To her immediate dismay.

Yet, her movement was not the focal point for him. No, it was her phrasing that caught his ear. ‘Locked here in this room again’, he knew exactly what she meant by that. The not so subtle jab at the way he had treated her during her first pregnancy. How she’d been largely confined to this chamber for almost the entirety of it, because he did not trust her to keep their babe as he needed her to. With their second babe, he had granted her far more freedoms. He'd returned her precious Morning to her, he'd allowed her to stroll the grounds with guards at her back and maids at her side. And as negotiated upon the birth of their second born, he'd even given her a spot on his council, as his Queen, free to witness, listen in and even interject if need be.

So, gently, he slotted himself between her thighs, his pulse practically palpitating at the innate warmth of her. There he slid his hands beneath the mildly weighted silk of her skirts, he began to push the flowy fabric up along her legs. She tutted at him, but he didn’t stop himself, he folded the bunched material at her hips. Tucked beneath her belly as he admired the smooth feel of her bare thighs and then her calves, running his calloused hands along them. Bringing his attention down the dainty poppy red slippers upon her feet, as he popped them off one at a time. Leaning himself into her as his hands casually messaged her sore feet.

He could be both considerate and attentive to her needs if only given the chance. If only she could see that’s all he’d done today…it had been for her benefit…with her needs in mind.

As his fingers deftly massaged her feet, Aemond could have sworn he’d heard the breathiest little moan of satisfaction slip from her lips. A little chink in her armour, how he loved to cause it. Rhaena’s own hands remained planted on either side of her hips, palmed down against the bed, fingers gripping the dark folded fur blanket there. She was desperate to hold on to the last semblance of control that she had now…her reluctance to reach for him was wearing her down, he could see it. So that was when he struck, releasing her feet, his hands slid up her thighs once again. Settling on the plush curve at her hips, his left hand already rubbing the underside of her belly.

“Jurnegon rȳ nyke, hmm,” look at me, he murmured softly. And after a stalled moment, her furrowed brows brought her pale eyes back to him, her button nose scrunching as her lips twisted at him.

Rhaena would always be the first to say their eldest son took after him, but this expression that was so utterly hers…little Aemon had inherited those inflections almost exactly.

It warmed his soul to see it really, that look was a sign that he was winning. That her rage was crumbling in the sight of his efforts. Slowly, he could reel her into him, even as she weakly fought against him. Curling his hands around her, he secured his arms around her tightly. Gazing up at her with both his pale indigo eye as well as gleaming sapphire, that was when her hands finally landed upon his shoulders. She finally sighed and allowed her body to guide her closer, close enough for Aemond to nudge his forehead up against hers, "this time it is different, you already know that it is. This confinement is not a prison, I only wished to ease your burdens…to make things comfortable for you."

"How considerate of you," she swallowed thickly, surely aiming to make her response sound as sarcastic as possible, only her shaky delivery made it all sound heated and earnest, "it is a shame you didn't bother to ask me if I wanted that or to warn me even. You couldn’t be bothered, I suppose, to at the very least tell me yourself. Ser Willis is the one who told me after I'd already dressed and readied myself."

"Rhaena," he sighed her name as softly as ever, rasping at the end of it. Yes, he could be gentle if he tried…his patience however, had already stretched as thin as it would go.

"It was aggravating. Borderline humiliating. You cannot act as if this was done as a kindness when it was handled as it was. Ser Willis is not known for pleasant deliveries,” she'd cut short with what sounded like a low drawn groan, as her nose threatened to nuzzle against his instinctually. The close proximity hypnotically luring her to melt against him, relaxing in his hold of her as her fingers roamed down along his chest. Sparking his senses, burning his skin as her hands warmly slid back towards his shoulders. Caressessing the sharp notch of his Adams apple as her touch traveled along his jaw. Her thumbs tracing the sharp edge of it before raising to cup his cheeks properly, “have I not handled being your mate, the mother of your children and most certainly taking on my role as your Queen, all well enough."

Aemond could feel himself falling victim to her orbit yet again, even though he'd purposely placed himself here...he would lose his upper hand if he wasn’t careful. He could already feel himself leaning into her already, her belly pressing against his chest, his hardening cock felt caught with the pressure of it all. As he raised one of his hands to feel the heat of the life they made, he smoothly brought the other hand up to hold her face. To keep her in place as he leaned his lips closer to hers. Chasing them eagerly, only then did her breath hitch, the sound made his cock grow absolutely rigid with want. As Rhaena's eyes flickered from his eyes down to his lips and then back again, and there she'd hummed to stop him. Halting his desire to close the sliver of distance between their lips, their heated breath already mingling.

"I wasn't done, my impatient zaldrīzes," dragon, she bit back a small faint smile, while he allowed his smirk to pull completely. Her dragon…he did love to hear her possessive terms for him. Loved to be considered hers even when she was cross with him, with her thumb playfully dragging down his lower lip, she smirked, “mmm Aemond, you are trying to distract me,”

A puff of air escaped him as he teased, “is it working?”

At that, she only shook her head, scoffing faintly, “…as your Queen, I need more assurety. You tell me I'm more than your broodmare and then you act without me or on my behalf with no warning at all. I just don't…I do not like being the last to know pertinent information that affects me so directly. I hate to be sidelined when you’ve spent years promising me the opposite. And I certainly mislike feeling powerless in my own life's decisions."

What a bother.

There’d be no distracting her from this topic.

Mmmm…she wanted more assurety?

As if he hadn't spent the last four years giving her just that. Giving her nearly everything she wanted...a courtesy he’d granted her as she was his Queen.

Breathing deeply, he rested his chin upon the perch of her belly. He found himself reaching around her hips, snuggly holding her in place as he hummed a sound acknowledgement. Recalling his own thoughts from just a few minutes ago, he only wished to 'utter whatever empty agreement she'd need reached just to have her settled upon his lap'.

Hmmm, it would take some maneuvering to get her onto his lap now...but he figured he could loosen her to that end. In truth, from where he knelt upon the stone floor of their bedchamber...his appetite hungered for something far more immediate.

Far closer to his lips...far sweeter to the taste.

Aemond's gaze had darkened almost instantly as his hands slid the curve of her hips, fingers applying the lightest of pressures. He was not being very subtle at all and his Queen knew it. Really, he didn't need to meet Rhaena's eyes directly to notice the furrow of her brows. The heavy sigh that blew from her was telling enough, though she seemed adamant to have his eye on her. Reaching for his chin, she gripped and tilted face upwards. The saturated sun still illuminating her beauty in the most majestic way, even as she spoke with a deep seeded vexation, "you're not listening to me, I can tell."

Well, he was...and he wasn't.

Biting his lip and he smirked, "you mislike feeling belittled, I heard you," his lips expectantly endured the wandering caress of her thumb.

If she sought such serious answers... playing with his lower lip was certainly one way to get them.

"Then..." She paused, her gaze flickering to the window that currently doused her in sunlight, her wispy silver curls shone nearly a glittery white, "tell me, what happened earlier. What angered you so, besides my unwillingness to lie with you then? What was said at the council meeting?"

Ah...

It wasn't necessarily confidential information, he could care less about keeping her excluded from the issue at hand. What bothered him really, was the thought of sitting here speaking on the delicate matter of the politics of the realm.

It was a topic he'd enjoy with a clear mind.

A topic he'd revel in divulging with her...after he'd taken what he needed. But he most certainly needed her first, there was no way around that. He could not keep his cock so taut and full as it was for much longer...he could not shake the want from his mind when he sat so ideally right between her legs.

Without warning he rose to his feet. The matter was settled as far as he was concerned, this was as far as he'd go with just words. He started with his weapons belt, unsheathing his dagger and biting the blade in his mouth as he unlatched his belt and dropped it on the floor. Blackfyre remained sheathed as it fell to the floor. Next, he began unbuttoning his sleek black leather riding tunic, shirking it off and allowing it to fall all the same.

Rhaena, however, only watched him perplexed all the while. Shaking her head slightly, her hands now held at the edge of the bed, "what are you doing?"

Aemond thought it obvious, though apparently he'd have to explain the state of things. Apparently the massive bulge beneath the waistband of his breeches was not clear enough for his little wife to see. Even as he threw off his black jerkin, followed by his white cloth undershirt. By then, he took the blade from his mouth, leaning over her, he was somewhat glad to see she seemed utterly unthreatened by the fact that he was holding a dagger over her. In truth, he'd aimed it lower anyhow.

That was when her eyes lit up, "no...NO! You're not cutting off another one of my dresses! There are buttons precisely placed directly on the front of this one!"

"I will not be fiddling with lace covered buttons, sweet wife. Besides, I'll have it replaced within the week anyhow," he grinned, already slipping his fingers underneath the neckline of her gown. Feeling the thickness of the fabric, mentally calculating the pressure needed to cut through her sturdy silk layered bodice as well as her thin cotton shift beneath.

Of course, the skill lied in the ability to swiftly slice both away without nicking her with the blade.

Just as he'd prepared himself to move forward, Rhaena groaned aloud as she shifted. It sounded sultry yet there was something nearly juvenile and pouty about it. Her furrowed brows moved to fret as if she wished to cross her arms to obstruct him, though she never did. She'd quite frankly leaned into his touch, whether she was conscious about it or not...he couldn't say. Her pale eyes only batted at him as her rose tinted lips pushed out, "but this is one of my favourites,"

"I'll gift you several just like it then," he hummed warmly enough, already eyeing the safest path in which he intended to slice.

"Right, and then you'll cut those just as well. Soon enough I'll be forced to walk these halls bare," she fought to keep her look of petulance, only a cheeky little smile won the battle in the end. That was the prime moment to strike, and Aemond took it, just managing to catch her lips with his own. The immediate warmth that engulfed him as he lazily caught her sweet tongue upon his own. Lingering in the moment just long to feel his own heart soothe and settle with the feel of her. Truly indulging himself with the taste of her mouth, the remnant flavour of a spiced tea and her favoured sugary custard pastries.

It was a simultaneous act, occupying her captivating mouth just as he pulled his dagger through, snapping each individual button that lined her bodice before cutting down the length of her dress. With his long platinum tresses draping over her, he felt her fingers trace the line of his scar upon his left cheek before feeling the edge of his jawline. Reaching to tuck his arrant strands behind his ear, there he gently pulled himself from her. Timed equally with a breathy gasp, Rhaena huffed, "mmmm...you're still a mad man, you didn't even answer my question."

Mad?

She had no idea...

Licking his lips, he still savoured the taste of her...eager to taste the sweet spot between her legs for the second time today, "consider my eagerness to be a necessity then." His voice was growing hoarse with need, especially as he'd watched the two halves of her gown and undergarment slide off her form. Tantalizing as gravity naturally revealed the parts of her he'd desperately longed to see. The slow tumbling of her crimson gown sliding to reveal one full plump breast and then the other. The soft showing of her bare swollen belly, her shapely thighs still parted directly below. With her warm brown skin still glowing in the sunlight, Aemond was sure he'd never seen such a perfect image.

With Rhaena leaning back on her elbows, her long silver twists streaming down her back...she was waiting for him. Her pale lilac eyes were calling to him, silently beckoning him to take her as she wished.

Surely she knew how dangerous her gaze was.

Surely, she could see what it did to him...what she did to him.

Leaning over her, he reached to place his dagger down upon their bedside table. Freeing his hand to glide along the soft dip of her bare waist. Though he wouldn't climb over her, not yet, he couldn't resist the opportunity laid at his feet. Instead, he reached for her cheek, "you want me to answer your question?"

Rhaena eyed him heatedly, nodding sharply.

"Hmmm, then you'll have to play your game to get it," Aemond rasped, purposely aiming a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth. With a cocky little flick of his tongue, he began to lower himself once again. Quietly kicking himself for leaving his breeches on as he did so, but he could wait no longer. Pressing warm sloppy kisses down in a streak along her body, his hair falling against her, tickling her as he trailed between her perfect mounds and the rounded bump of her belly.

While Aemond's complete and utter focus had shifted, Rhaena's body had begun to melt against his touch. Though her focus remained the same, "and what game would that be? The one where you spread my legs and get exactly what you've come for."

He'd chuckled darkly at that, now kneeling before her, placing his hands upon her smooth knees. The delicate yet familiar motion of spreading her legs to suit his hungered urges as he glanced up at her, "quid pro quo...a fair trade...is that not what you call it? When you ride me senseless, take my cock however I wish to give it to you. You ease my every sense, all to receive whatever goal you'd been after that day."

Rhaena's fingers danced upon her thighs, her lips folding in a charming little guilty expression, "you say that as if I use you."

"Tis your favourite weapon to wield against me, is it not," Aemond grinned, his eye flickering down to the damp thatch of pale curls that laid above her pretty entrance, "it's exactly how you managed to gain a seat upon my council in the first place-"

It was a feather light touch, his fingers spreading the soft folds of her there just as his thumb grazed against her sensitive little bud. Her legs shuddered instantly at his touch, her breath hitching in time with a little small quiver as she opened for him. She was already so slick, wet and wanting...the tender pink of her hidden flesh already calling to him.

"Aemond-" Rhaena gasped again, biting down hard upon her lower lip.

He'd missed that sound, missed hearing all of the breathy moans he knew his wife to be capable of. All the sweet ways she could call his name when she so wished to. And, yes, he'd been granted a few much earlier in the morning...but he could be selfish at times. Hoarding the sound, the melodic melody of it. He wanted more...he always wanted more.

Teasingly, Aemond continued to dab at her clit, softly rubbing the area with the pad of his thumb. Flashing a cunning smirk as he leaned his mouth close enough to blow hot air against her needy entrance, "what was that? Did you want me to stop?"

Pettiness...he could never have enough.

"Mmmm, you're such a..." Rhaena groaned as she laid her head back, her hands combing through her twists as Aemond settled her legs over his shoulders. Her left calf sliding over his old burn scar upon his right shoulder, his one memorial from his battle at Rook’s Rest. The day the formidable Rhaenys Targaryen took both him and Vhagar on with Meleys at her side. Matching him blow for blow…nearly killing him with her immense dragon riding experience. As well as the worn battle tested Meleys.

Aemond remembered that battle well…perhaps he regretted it more than the others. But in that fight he'd taken Meleys' dragon's fire just scarcely to the shoulder while managing to douse and dodge the worst of the onslaught. Only taking her down with the added aid of his brother and Sunfyre.

A half victory, really.

As were the majority of his dragon battles.

Though in the end he had won it all. Rhaenys was dead, in her stead, he had that very woman's granddaughter here at his disposal. Legs splayed to him as he clearly felt the call of her body, as if gravity itself was guiding him there. He didn't wait for her, delving between the warmth of her plush thighs. Eagerly licking a streak along the length of her spread cunt, his tongue purposely lavishing the saccharine flavour of her. Drawing light airy mewls from her as her hands floundered down at her sides. Fingers padding the fur blanket beneath her before she opted to grip onto it instead.

Her legs were squirming already, he'd barely even begun and Rhaena already seemed to be fighting the urge to squeeze her legs around him.

It was enough to cause his cock to throb dangerously within his breeches, his heart burning with a sense of pure desire. He felt greedy with it all, that aching irritation of his gave way to the pace of his tongue working her almost ferociously. Licking along her delicate folds, trailing his tongue around her apex, flicking the tip of his tongue against her there-

There, Rhaena's hands finally reached for him. With a sharply pitched moan, she slid her fingers through his hair and tugged, "s-stop, wait...wait,"

In truth, he had no interest in stopping at all.

Not when he could get her there, not when he was finally feasting on her just as he'd wished to. Besides, it wasn't as if he could see the expression on her face at this very moment. With his own fingers tightly squeezing the soft pudge of her inner thighs, from his angle kneeling before. Her later-term belly was truly blocking his view of her entirely, he could see the top slumped peaks of her breasts...but her facial expression in this moment would remain a mystery.

And so if all he could do was judge her words based on the sound of her voice, the breathy needy call for him to wait or stop. Said with the blatant undertones of a woman who was in the midst of experiencing immense pleasure.

Stop?

Hmmm...he thought not.

Playfully, he grinned as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sweet heat of her. Drenched in her syrupy wetness, the point of his nose nudging her clit in time with his ministrations. It was enough for her to cry out, whining his name even louder this time, "Aemond!"

Perhaps he was toying with her, but he couldn't deny this...that he loved nothing more than this. Burrowing himself within her one way or another.

"Aemond...mmm...I do not wish to play this game, I would rather the simple answers," she fussed against him, pulling his hair even harder... finally causing him to hiss with the strain.

Aggravating little thing, could she not simply take his tongue with gratitude.

With a huff, Aemond grinded his jaw slowly. He wanted a better position, one with more purchase and control over her body. So he feigned compliance, slipping his tongue from her in the slowest most agonizing way possible. Savouring the honeyed taste of her, happily relishing the bright gasping breath she took as he did. He chuckled to himself there, licking his lips as he slowly pulled himself from between her legs. Nearly climbing atop her, Aemond lowered himself over her, gazing into her eyes he murmured, "the game's already started, sweet girl. And you haven't given me anything yet. That’s no trade at all."

With a sob, she surely felt his fingers reach below. Sliding between her wet folds, causing her to bite her lip as her brows furrowed, "oh! But you've already had a taste, that's good enough!"

"Mmm," he smirked devilishly, nuzzling his nose against hers, "now now, little wife. You're only stalling, you know this game better than that. If you want pertinent information from me, you'll have to give me more than a simple taste,"

With a smooth slip of his fingers, he brought his damp index and middle fingers to his lips purposely sucking off her glistening arousal. The look in her eyes as they widened at the sight of it, eyeing him with a fixed almost hypnotized stare.

As if she’d seen him do this very thing, the countless times she’d watched him pull his fingers from her delicate wetness before sucking the remnants with pure fervor.

In a fluid motion, Aemond used that very same hand to caress her jaw, leading her lips up to his. Deepening their kiss with the dexterity of his tongue tangling with her own, feeling the instant access to her mouth as she tasted herself upon his tongue. As her hands slid along his shoulders, he parted from her briefly, humming against her lips, "settle up here... I'm not done with you yet."

As he spoke, he guided her body further up along the bed. Pulling down the fur blanket, effectively unmaking the bed as Rhaena finally obeyed his commands. Eyeing him the entire time as she moved to shed the remnants of her gown and undergarments down to the floor before she laid herself closer to the head of the bed. Resting herself horizontally amongst the nest of pillows they had there.

And for a moment he couldn't help the way his gaze had lingered on her form. Laid out and splayed to him...in truth the very image he'd been most keen to return to ever since he left her this morning. It felt as if he'd been away for ages, like a warrior kept from home....even though there was no battle to speak of and he'd made the blunderous choice to leave all by himself. But he had her now, and she looked the picture of perfection. Like a painting of old, the erotic sketches of a goddess. She quite literally had the form of an image he'd seen once before. Deep within the pages of an old text he'd read a few years back, the original writer's envisioned idea of the fertility Goddess, Meleys.

What she might have looked like if she'd taken the form of a woman.

Beyond Rhaena's naturally curlier hair and refined beautiful features, the image seemed nearly exact in his mind. Down to his wife’s lovely deep skin tone, her splendid figure, those wide curving hips and thighs, laid so prettily upon their bed. With the impeccable abundance of her plump bosom, the intoxicating roundness of her swollen belly. The bright sun still spilling over her, the luminous shimmer of her silver hair, the way her pale lilac eyes shone like jewels.

Everything about her was calling him to her like a siren…like a spell.

If he'd subscribed to the ideals of The Seven as faithfully as he once did...all of this coveting would feel far more sinful. To carnally want a woman with child this badly...his woman, his wife…carrying his child.

Such distinctions would not have mattered to The Mother, surely, it was all a sin in her eyes. Said to feel displeasure towards any such depravity no matter the specifics. Yet, it all mattered so little to Aemond now, when he was with her. He could do away with thoughts of the Faith in the presence of Rhaena Targaryen. She had a knack for clouding his mind, his judgement…to focusing on one end alone.

And to his near wonderment, here she was finally beckoning him to come to her.

"Come then, dear husband, let us play the game," Rhaena's eyes practically glowed, her lips twisting into a bright little smile.

His siren's song.

Notes: LMAO that breeding kink is really FRONT and center, the lactation kink will be coming too!!

Chapter 5 is in the works, but I do still have to write it! I've plotted out the sequence of events...but estimatation for completion wise, idk. I'd really like to finish it this week. We shall see!

#aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #rhaena x aemond #aemond x rhaena #rhaemond #hotd fanfic #hotd #Don't You Dare Do This Without Me #LMFAO the way this update took forever because I wanted to finish writing ch. 5 first #that didn't happen 💀💀#BUT HERE'S CHAPTER 4 🥹

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xknivesandpensx · 2 years ago

Text

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 1

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The thrashing of wind and pelting of rain against the window died down as the train made its way to Hogwarts. An aspect of which went unnoticed while Hermione kept her brown eyes glued to The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, trying very hard to focus on the words before her.

It wasn’t Harry and Ron’s near obsessive talk of Quidditch preventing her mind from staying on the page. Rather, her thoughts kept drifting to the World Cup, how the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. A bright and vibrant green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth lingered above for all to bear witness.

However awfully constant as the scene plagued her, Hermione couldn’t help thinking back to when they ran into Draco while fleeing the chaos. He stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed in an almost relaxed manner, watching the mess unfold.

His calmness almost threw her. Screams of terror and trampling of feet and yet Draco Malfoy kept a composed disposition. Of course, he caught their attention while tossing a rude comment towards Ron – proving to be just as combative as the previous years.

The shadows of the surrounding foliage obscured much of his features, but one always recognized his bright blond hair and familiar sound of his voice. It deepened a bit, still keeping its boyish tenor.

She recalled a few expressed remarks of warning, saying something along the lines of how they should be hurrying along, insinuating the danger of her being spotted. It surprised her the most that he spoke directly to her, Draco insisting further by stating the fact of them being after Muggles.

Them as in those running about having a bit of fun levitating and scaring innocent people.

He made a joke about it, going on persistently. Far be it for Hermione to mistake his caution for care. It did confuse her though. Why bother saying anything at all?

“That book really can’t be that interesting, can it?” came Ron’s voice, bringing her back to the present. He went on as if she heard his previous statement. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Hermione straightened her posture. “If it’s about Quidditch then I’m not getting in the middle of it.” She placed her reading material on the opposite side of Crookshanks, the ginger-colored cat curled up next to her.

“He’s still going on about Malfoy, actually,” Harry mentioned, indicating the compartment next to them.

Earlier Draco took it upon himself to come over and comment on the discussion he overheard. Bragging about knowing the big event happening this year. The information of which none of the trio knew.

He took great pleasure in gloating, insulting Ron’s father to top it off.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you, Ron.” Her persistence came with a shake of her head. “Besides, you know he’s doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up. Really, I don’t see the point. His time could certainly be better spent. But he’s just so…”

There were many words capable of leaving her lips. Some she wouldn’t dare utter in front of them. Complicated, for instance. Complex and almost disarmingly engaging. She held a fair number of scruples regarding the latter.

Her qualms seemed rightly placed. While Hermione knew a lot of ambiguity surround Draco, she inwardly yearned to know more about him. Except what was the point?

Things were never going to change between them. She might as well let it (and the picture she painted over the years during their small, yet impactful moments) slip away.

“He’s an annoying git,” Ron supplied, unaware of the reason behind her hesitation. Harry merely nodded along in agreement. Much like usual.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes well, if you’re finished reading the paper, Harry, can I see it?” She skimmed the first paragraph, the byline catching her attention. Rita Skeeter, what an excuse for a journalist. “Unbelievable. It’s been days and nothing new about the World Cup. Just more rubbish.”

“It’s not surprising.” Ron tugged at one side of the page to get a better look. “The Ministry can’t give away information they don’t have. Dad’s going to lose it when he reads what she wrote.”

“Your scar’s bothering you again, isn’t it?” Hermione questioned, glancing up to see Harry brushing his forehead. “You already contacted Sirius, maybe you should tell Dumbledore as well. About your dreams too. He’d want to know.”

“It might be nothing.” He shrugged, not overly keen on mulling it over again.

She sighed at his indifference. “Last time you were in pain, You-Know-Who was at our school, remember? He practically lived in Professor Quirrell similar to a parasite. It hurt then. Logically, there must be a reason. And not a good one.”

“You’re not exactly telling me anything new, Hermione. If Voldemort – Sorry, You-Know-Who,” Harry corrected after Ron’s interjection. “If he wants to come at me again, I’d like to see him try. He literally can’t touch me. I’ll be fine.”

Boys and their bravado. False confidence and for what purpose? She and Ron were there. Not during his discussion alongside Quirrell and Voldemort or Harry’s encounter with the sixteen-year-old version of himself placed inside the diary, but every step of the way beforehand.

Harry couldn’t admit his fear. Hermione, in contrast, held no reluctance confessing she was scared for him – worried something terrible might happen.

“He has a point.” Ron shoved his apprehension aside, feeling it yet able to keep it from his face. “For once I’d like to have a normal school year. No three-headed dogs, no massive snakes petrifying students or people pretending to be pets.”

“Don’t forget giant spiders, loads of them,” Harry added matter-of-factly.

“I wish you’d both take this more seriously.” Her chastising received no more than a glance between the boys. “Honestly, the two of you should be a little more concerned. In any case, it’s about time to change into our robes. I’ll leave you to it.”

Hermione slid the compartment door open, letting Crookshanks stretch his legs as he jumped down to follow her into the walkway.

“She left in a bit of a huff, didn’t she? And what for?” Ron slouched in his seat, utterly confused by the fraction of vexation displayed. “Mental, that one, I'm telling you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry uttered, wondering if he should take her advice. Every time danger came his way, Ron and Hermione willingly took on every threat he faced, practically glued to his side. What if he lost one of them or anyone he cared for? Was he worth it?

Hermione intended on finding Ginny. The year age gap between them didn’t prevent them from becoming friends – in fact, she found a level of gratitude in having another girl to speak to, someone to talk to about the things Harry and Ron held no particular interest in.

While she enjoyed spending a good part of the summer at the Weasley’s, her companionship helped ease the days. Ginny’s brothers were a rambunctious bunch, no doubt, but Hermione suspected being the youngest and only sister caused her to feel left out every so often.

And while Ginny moved past the events of her first year, intent on leaving the memories behind her, Hermione became the one person she confided in while nightmares haunted her dreams. They were memories really, of all the things she did while under control.

Of course, she didn’t wish to worry her parents about the matter, so the girls held it between themselves and therefore establishing a deep layer of trust.

From afar, she saw Fred and George speaking to Ginny, smiles lingering on their faces, the twins undoubtedly showing her something Molly would probably disapprove of them bringing along. Another fake wand or some other new thing they snuck aboard.

In a way, she admired their family, all of them so warm and inviting. Hermione loved her parents, indisputably, but she grew up an only child and certainly ignored by most classmates prior to Hogwarts. It seemed as if her need to constantly raise her hand annoyed everyone, including the Muggle children. They all thought her a bit bothersome.

“Getting tired of hanging around with Potter and Weasley already?” Draco asked, catching her off-guard. “Not that I blame you. Being in their company is almost as bad as being in yours.”

Hermione whirled around, her lips pressing together. Already slightly cross, her reply came out hotly, returning the jab. “Because Crabbe and Goyle’s time is so well spent with you.”

He tilted his head in consideration. “I think I’m rather generous letting them stick around. They should consider themselves lucky.”

Everyone knew they weren’t the brightest pair and despite the mild harassment sent their way, because he really did push them around every so often, they chose to back him up. They nodded along whenever he complained, habitually agreeing, and provided company, for he’d otherwise be alone in most instances.

Slytherins did tend to flock around him, however, for better or worse.

Perhaps it was his gloating that irritated her the most, the way he took pleasure in making those around him feel almost worthless in comparison. She certainly endured a fair amount of his insults. Every time Hermione let herself contemplate the reasons behind the antagonistic side of him, Draco proved to be more disagreeable and therefore shattering any built-up inquisitiveness.

Before the usual back and forth of their comments could continue, he felt something brush along his legs, the fluffy animal’s purrs sounding loud enough to hear. Draco’s near inscrutable countenance faltered as a scowl overtook. “How about keeping your cat away from me?”

“Crookshanks,” Hermione chastised. While Sirius deemed him the most intelligent of his kind, he certainly picked the worst person to be affectionate towards.

Draco didn’t recoil or kick the animal aside. Truthfully, cats didn’t bother him. But Hermione didn’t have to shoo him away, the feline darted between them upon the sound of a cart proceeding down the walkway.

“Anything from the trolley, dears? Last time passing through.” The woman’s voice rose cheerfully, a smile attached regardless of Draco’s silence and Hermione’s soft-spoken refusal. “No? Then would you mind?”

A moment of hesitancy occurred before they shifted into his empty compartment to let her pass.

Hermione surely wasn’t the shy, reserved type, yet sweeping past Draco (even if only for a moment they stood closer than normal to one another) her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. A tremble hit her resolve – a fracture forming along the foundation of every decision made to ignore him.

A steadying breath pacified her nerves.

Her gaze, while evading an anticipated glower, fell on a large discoloration stretched from his knuckles towards his arm. The bruise, once well hidden, held a prominent purple shade against his pale skin.

“What happened to your hand?” She didn’t mean to ask the question so forthright or at all really.

The concern woven in her tone came across unexpectedly. He chose a cutting response. “As if it’s any of your business, Granger.”

Did it ever get tiresome maintaining such a rigid, callous demeanor? She saw it more as a defense mechanism of sorts, often displayed and played out for his own benefit.

“Did your father do that to you?” Hermione asked, not dissuaded in the slightest by his obvious avoidance. Hermione remembered seeing Lucius jab him in the stomach by means of his cane. She suddenly wondered if the maltreatment happened often.

“Who do you think you are accusing my father of something like that?” He placed his palm on the door, unintentionally blocking her way out. “Always acting as if you know everything.”

Then he felt it – a sinking pressure hit his chest, causing every beat of his heart to pulsate with a ruthless intensity. He endured it for a moment last year, though thought nothing of it since. Now it decided to make itself known again. To his dread a fluttering sensation snaked into his stomach.

He absolutely refused to have feelings for Hermione Granger.

She was so far beneath him it was pitiful. Maybe her eyes still glowed, set ablaze like a compelling force of nature. Draco could probably also admit her features softened in a pretty fashion. Even her bushy, light brown hair framed her face differently, settling in a gentle wave, dipping past her shoulders.

But attraction? No, utterly out of the question.

His piercing blue-gray eyes hit her like ice, his signature sneer in place. Hermione cleared her throat. “You know, you make it increasingly difficult for anyone so show even a fraction of compassion. It’s almost as if you’re doing it on purpose.”

He bit back a laugh, able to find his voice again and it dripped equally in bitterness. “You’re joking, right? As if I want the concern of someone of your kind.”

Nose scrunched in annoyance; Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “I’ll never understand what makes you think you’re so much better than everyone else,” she pronounced. “Frankly, it’s a wonder you can stand at all without the weight of your ego dragging you down! If you have nothing else to say, how about letting me leave?”

Draco drew his arm back, narrowing his gaze. “Do me a favor and stay out of my way. I could definitely use less conversations with a Mudblood.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” she replied, cutting past him. “Even if you’re the one who seems to start them all.”

Draco settled back in his seat. What right did she have to say anything at all about his family?

Pansy came over merely to make a fuss about how irritating Hermione was, having caught the end of their confrontation, but no direct set of sentences. He hid his hand from sight, not in the mood to deal with her fawning over the injury, much like the time Buckbeak scratched his arm.

The gash bled quite profusely, and he may have encouraged anyone’s attention then, he felt no yearning for it now. Luckily, Pansy left on her own accord, heading in Blaise’s direction.

Relief hit immediately, no matter the length of his solitude, he took full advantage and allowed the sudden wave of emotions to dwindle. Hoping they remained absent upon their next encounter. There’d obviously be more regardless of their parting retorts.

He flexed his fingers, the pain pulsating.

A day prior to catching the train, Draco intended to make his way to his room to finish packing, only to pass by a door left slightly ajar. He didn’t intend to linger (he knew better than to listen in on conversations). Although upon hearing Narcissa say his name, curiosity caused his feet to stay in place.

He didn’t really know who his mother spoke to, regardless of being aware of them having company. Lucius told him to stay out of the way. Not in any particular want to disobey, he intended to do nothing less. Until that instance anyway.

The conversation turned towards Bertha Jorkins seconds upon him stopping, some woman from the Ministry who went missing, which quickly caused his interest to lessen. But he kept still in case the conversation drifted back towards him.

Draco shifted some, having moved his hand on the wall. He never heard the footsteps coming from behind. Next thing he knew an angry flare of pain erupted across his skin.

Cane raised; Lucius gave him a severe look. His warning rang in his ears. What did I say about eavesdropping, Draco?

On impulse, he apologized and hurried off.

Hermione guessed the culprit instantly, yet a denial came. Draco never overly scrutinized any of the scenarios. The soreness would eventually subside and besides, his father deserved the respect to be listened to.

Now, no thanks to her, the memory hit differently, less like a lesson.

Draco never found the right word to describe it as his attention altered after Crabbe and Goyle rejoined him. “Where have you two been?” They had an abundance of sweets, so he waved their mumbled answers away. “Oh, forget it.” His irritation rose, hating that he picked a seat so near to Harry, Ron and Hermione. “And close the damn door.”

He leaned back, taking in the lack of Hermione’s voice, glad it no longer weaved its way through the commotion, somehow ensnaring his attention amongst the myriad of students.

#dramione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #harry potter #the goblet of fire #i finally finished!#it took me forever to get the flow of the chapter to my liking XD #nice comments are always appreciated #sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes

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