Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I told you I'm horrible at keeping my update schedule. I'm not going to elaborate, but for the past few days I'm staying at a friend's house, with occasional visits to my own home. She has some serious issues, and needs my help. She doesn't have internet though, so I couldn't update sooner.

PS: I have a poll up in my profile about The Artist, please check it out!

*There's a line taken from the latest Big Bang Theory episode. See if you can spot it!

Can I just say how thankful I am for all your lovely reviews? You guys are amazing! Thank you for sticking with this story till the end! Hope you enjoyed it!

The Artist

Part IX

It was finished.

Dear Merlin...

After eight years...

It was done.

Done.

Draco stood still, his boxers and thin shirt clinging to his body with damp heat as sweat trickled down his overheated skin. Despite the low temperature of the room, to persevere the paintings, Draco was on fire.

After he had finished inside Hermione for the last time, he had spent an hour kissing and caressing her body as she laid exhausted against him, unable to join her in sleep.

With a sign he had slipped out of bed, put on a shirt and boxer shorts and pulled the sheet over her exposed form, dropping an affectionate kiss on her shoulder blade. If anyone ask him, he'd deny he had a romantic bone in his body; yet there was something about Hermione Granger that brought out the softness in him.

With her, a woman who prided herself in her independence and self reliance, he craved to take care of her.

Like the past eight years when insomnia hit, he had entered his studio and with a casual wave of his hand the unfinished angel painting appeared shimmering on the wall.

He ignored the landscape and focused instead on the sitting figure of the bloodied angel in the centre. The only part of the painting still unfinished.

She sat on the ground, one knee raised, her arms wrapped around it as she rested her head on it. Her white dress was ripped in places and fell on the ground in shreds. Her pure white wings drooped broken, bright red blood dripping to the ground. Her soft pink lips were parted, white teeth visible, her nose small and her wild curly brown hair, streaked with gold, tumbled down her thin shoulders like a chocolate waterfall. Glittering droplets of water, rain and tears alike, ran down her creamy cheeks.

And her eyes...

Her dark eyes had haunted him for years; his inability to capture the pure emotion in them gnawed at him every time his mind wondered off.

Until tonight. With a sense of wonderment he raised his hand to the girl's face, careful not to touch the still wet paint.

A dark amber, golden flecks flashing in them; her doe like eyes spat fire, burnt him, transforming her into something otherworldly.

Because no matter how broken she was... No matter how much pain she had endured... No matter what trials she had went through... No matter what... Hermione Granger was a fighter. And as the phoenix rose from its ashes, she had risen, more magnificent than ever.

Staggering back, Draco fell to his knees.

It was the only memory of the war that had never stopped plaguing him.

He still heard Hermione's screams in his dreams, her pleading with his deranged aunt, her face soaked with tears. And yet... Even through her pain she had stood up to a mad woman. She had lied to save her friends. She hadn't allow Bellatrix to break her like so many others.

Granger was a fighter.

For the last eight years he'd been trying to capture her true self in his painting. To paint her fire; to immortalise the woman who managed to invoke in his very soul so many conflicted emotions with just her existence.

Looking at it now, he felt content. Like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. A burden he hadn't even know he carried all these years with him.

For the first time in years, he felt elated.

He laughed.

"Draco?"

Her voice... God, her voice.

It did things to him. It made his stomach clench, his heart race and his palms sweat.

Was this what being in love felt like?

He liked it.

Slowly, he turned around to face her. His breath caught.

Standing in only a thin green sheet covering her tempting body, her mass of brown curls haloed her pale face as she stared at him with wide brown eyes. He felt a warm feeling settle in his stomach but allowed nothing to be shown in his expression as she caught sight of the painting behind him.

Her eyes widened even more, her pouty mouth dropped open and she took three steps forward before stopping.

"I- Is that... Is that me?"

Her voice shook and her tiny hands grasped his sheet tighter. For the first time in his life, Draco saw the vulnerable side of Hermione Granger, courageous Gryffindor and war heroine.

Arrogantly he lifted a brow and folded his arms across his chest.

"What do you think?" He gravelly asked.

Her eyes locked with his. Unable to resist, his gaze landed on the top of her enticingly breasts, so tantalising exposed. Following his eyes, she blushed scarlet but refused to drop her stare.

Feeling amused, he cocked his head to the side. "A little late to feel shy around me, don't you think, Granger? I've seen all of you." His voice was breathy and husky as he provocatively ran his eyes all over her.

The blush now reached her neck but she set her shoulders and glared at him.

"If you ever want to see me naked again, I'd advice you to shut it, Malfoy."

Now it was his turn to glare. In three long steps he was in front of her, staring her down. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, yet the petite witch had the audacity to stare down her nose at him!

Yes, he had been right. Having Granger as his own was proving to be a very satisfying move indeed.

"You-" his hand flew to the sheet, grabbed it and with a mighty pull and an indignant squeak from the naked woman, he pulled it off and threw it away, "-will never again-" one hand went to her waist and the other to her hair, "-threaten to withhold-" her head was forcefully tilted back, her fiery eyes connecting with his, and he lowered his mouth to hers, "-your body from me. You are mine, Granger, do you understand?"

Their lips were an inch apart, their breaths intermingling as arousal flared in their bodies. Hermione's hands rested on his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt as she fought the need to push him to the closest available surface.

Never before had she felt so wanton; he drove her absolutely wild and she loved every second of it.

"Yes," she breathed, whimpering when he crashed his lips on hers, prying them apart and swiping his hot tongue inside, tasting every dark crevice. Her body thrummed, her head fuzzy as she allowed him to possess her with his kiss.

When he finally pulled away, she rested her forehead on his chest, his arms holding her tightly against his bigger body.

Not for the first time in the last twelve hours, Draco felt he needed to buy his meddling mother a gift. If the insufferable woman hadn't ask Granger to come check on him last night, claiming the need to settle things with the restaurant manager, he wouldn't be here, Granger in his arms.

On the other hand, it would set a dangerous precedence to let her know her meddling had given him exactly what he had been desiring. There was no knowing what the woman would do if he proved her right.

Hm... Decisions, decisions.

Granger sighed, her breathe ghosting over his chest. He shivered pleasantly. Maybe he'll consider what to do with his mother later.

When he wasn't busy.

A gentle hand caressed his chin and he looked down at the smiling woman in his arms. His heart fluttered.

"You destroyed my portrait," she murmured.

He smirked.

"I decided it was not up to my usual standards."

"It was beautiful," she disagreed, running her hand under his shirt.

He sniffed arrogantly. "It was mediocre. This-" he spanned her around to look what he thought was his masterpiece. "This is worthy of you."

Her eyes fleeted to his before returning to the painting.

"It's stunning," she had to admit, admiring it. "But... When did you make it?"

His head came to rest on her shoulder as he hugged her from behind. "It was a work in progress... For the last eight years."

"Eight years!?"

"Yes," he murmured.

"You- why?"

Sighing heavily, Draco bent and without preamble lifted her ins his arms.

Squealing, she threw her arms around him.

"What the fuck, Draco!"

Snickering he strode out his studio.

xxXxx

After breakfast, a round of hot sex on the kitchen table when he saw her in only his shirt, and a joined shower to clean up, they found themselves entangled in his massive bed; their hands intertwined on her belly as he spooned her.

"So..."

"So." He repeated, kissing her where her neck met her shoulder and making her shiver.

"The painting, Draco. I want to know."

"Of course you do." He rolled his eyes.

A minute later, she pinched his wrist.

"Tell me," she coaxed. "You know I won't tell."

He knew, of course he knew. If anything, Granger was a trustworthy person.

"I... had a dream eight years ago."

"About?"

"You... The day Bellatrix..."

"... I see."

"I never forgot about it. Months afterwards I was hearing your screams. You haunted me, Granger."

"I'm sorry." She whispered hoarsely. Even now, the memory of her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange was a cause of pain. She couldn't imagine what it felt like to actually watch someone else be tortured in front of you; by your aunt nonetheless! "You have to know I never blamed you. You were but a child, Draco. You couldn't do-"

"Yes, I could! I could stop her! I could-"

"At the cost of your life, Draco! Yours and your parents! Or do you think Voldemort would have spared you because of your age? He'd have tortured you within an inch of your life and kill you! You. Could. Have. Done. Nothing."

Draco buried his head in her hair and breathed deeply.

"You lied to her," he whispered. "I found out later; you lied to her. Even after all those Crucios. I couldn't believe it."

"I had to."

"I know. But still... You were my inspiration, Granger. My dream... The fallen angel... Broken, beaten yet your fire still burnt bright. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. For years your memory tormented me."

Rolling in his arms, she turned to face him. Her dainty hand rose to touch his smooth cheek as she gazed in his clear silver eyes.

"What about now?" She murmured, eyes heavy lidded.

"Now... Now you still torment me. But I can do this now." With a muttered oath, he grabbed her bum and pulled her upwards to meet his mouth. Working quickly, he ripped his shirt off of her and rolled her on her back as he settled between her thighs more comfortably.

"Mine."

Hermione moaned, fighting the urge to succumb to Draco's passion. She needed to make sure they were in the same page, before letting him proceed with his plans.

It was difficult with the way he rocked against her, rubbing her at just the right way, but she managed... Barely.

xxXxx

"Well?"

The red headed woman practically bounced on her seat as the regal blonde served them tea and chocolate chip cookies. One of her few indulgences.

Her lips stretched to a smug grin as she sat across her friend, fixing her skirt.

"Dorky tells me Draco hasn't allow her to leave his bedroom. He's been trying to convince her to move in with him for the last two days."

The two women giggled in satisfaction.

"If he manages to do so, it'll be a miracle!"

"Now, don't be so sure," the blonde smiled proudly. "Draco can be very persuasive if he wants something. And he wants Hermione."

"You do know your son better, Cissa, dear." The red head agreed with a conspirational smile. "But don't forget how stubborn Hermione can get if she thinks she's right."

"Oh pish posh. Dorky was pretty enthusiastic over her new mistress; despite Hermione's attempts to guilt Draco into freeing her. She reports Hermione is as possessive of him as he is of her. I give her two months tops before succumbing."

"Two months? I'll take that bet!" Molly laughed and shook hands with Narcissa, her dear friend and partner in her matchmaking attempts.

"Now... When do you think we should start planning their wedding?"