A/N: New One-shot, guys! I've been in a writing frenzy. Do not ask me where this one came from, I have no idea, but the idea would not leave me until I wrote it out. A bit different Hermione/Draco story, but with the same Dramione core. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for reading. Thank you to my wonderful, superfantastic, awesome beta Rusty Weasley for the continued work in making my stories suck less...oh and for the title. I'm hopeless with titles. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally. I mean, I even pay rent.

Prosthetirotica

"Seriously, get over yourself Malfoy," Hermione snapped. It had been two weeks and her forgiving nature had reached its breaking point.

"Go fuck yourself, Mudblood," he replied, his voice void of any emotion.

The remark did not cause her to flinch, because he had no bite anymore. She knew he couldn't care less about her blood status. In the six months since he'd become a member of the Order, she'd never heard him utter the word, although it seemed to be one of his favorites lately. Most likely it was because she was the only volunteer willing to work with him after he'd verbally eviscerated every other caregiver St. Mungo's assigned. However, she was not fazed by his pathetic attempts to bait her.

"How long are you going to wallow in self-pity before you even attempt to get out of this bed?" she asked, yanking the bed sheets away from him and beginning her morning routine. She tried to be patient with him, but damn, he could be annoying when he got into these moods. He didn't understand how frustrating it was to watch him pout like a child about his injuries when there were others far worse off.

"Enjoying the freak show, Granger?" he sneered. "Here to get even, are you?"

She controlled the urge to roll her eyes. "Malfoy, enough," she said, bending down to check the stub that remained of his left leg. It was no longer red and swollen like it had been in the first weeks. "You know why I'm here. You know I don't care about old grudges, and sitting her being surly with me isn't helping you learn to walk."

"Oh, and how shall I learn to walk?" he replied sarcastically. "I've only got one leg, haven't I?"

"If you bothered to listen to the three Medi-Wizards - and me - for more than a second, you'd know that we can fit you with a prosthetic leg that will function very much like your old leg. It is one of the perks of knowing magic, after all. Muggles who lose limbs have a much longer, harder, and more painful recovery than you," she pointed out.

"Please fuck right off, Granger. I'm not interested in your Muggle sob stories," Draco replied, looking out the window as if dismissing her. That pissed Hermione off.

"They aren't going to let you live here indefinitely, you know," she said, stamping her foot as she placed both hands on her hips. "I've stalled long enough, and soon you will be at Malfoy Manor. Alone. Unless you can find someone willing to deal with your childish, surly ass for some serious money. And then what will you do? Run them off and rely on a House-elf to help you get to the toilet?"

"What does it matter?" he asks, though his voice has taken on a more serious tone. "What's the point of any of it? I wish I'd just died on the battlefield."

Hermione sighed. She knew he was going through some serious issues. He'd lost his left leg, and his face has been scared beyond recognition when he was first found. Now he only had one long scar down his left cheek. It didn't detract from his admittedly beautiful features as far as she was concerned, but to him, he had always expected perfection, and he felt far from it.

Considering that Lavender Brown was disfigured and could expect a lifetime as a werewolf, or the fact that The Patil Twins had been burnt so badly their faces were still unrecognizable, Malfoy had it pretty good. Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything but his own misery and solitude.

Hermione felt like she was the only one determined to see him through this, regardless of how much he fought her. When he joined the Order, she'd taken time to get to know him. Dumbledore's approval was all she needed, but others were not so convinced. By the time the war rolled around, most agreed that he could be trusted, but no one was becoming friends with him, that was sure. She'd even say they were friendly. Though now he had no place in his heart to be her friend. Not when he was so preoccupied hating himself for nothing more than being unlucky enough to get injured in the war.

"Malfoy, listen..." she started, biting her lip. It flashed through her mind that Ron would have been pissed about what she was about to propose, but to tell the truth, she didn't much care what Ron thought at the moment. She would never care what he thought again, since he'd convinced her to sleep with him after the final victory, and then decided they'd be better off as friends. Harry would probably think she was nuts too, but it didn't matter. Malfoy had, literally, no one in his life.

"If you will just work with me to get fitted with a new leg, I'll get you moved out of here, and I'll see to it you are taken care of at home."

His eyes darted to hers suspiciously. "I'm not taking one of those frightened, empty headed nurses to Malfoy Manor. I'd spend more time calming them down than they would helping me."

"You aren't going to take one of them," Hermione said, straightening up and pulling the blanket back over his thin frame. "You are going to take me."

"For fuck's sake, Granger, this bloody thing is irritating!" Malfoy yelled as he leaned against a bar she'd set up for his physical therapy in the sitting room off of his bedroom. The only time she'd spent in the Manor before then was something she'd like to forget. Being tortured on the Drawing Room floor had a tendency to stop you from appreciating one's surroundings.

Now that she had been living there for nearly a week, she'd explored the place and found it astoundingly large. In fact, she wondered how Malfoy, as a child, could have ever possibly gotten around without a map. His suite included his room, bathroom, a sitting room, and a kitchenette alone. She had no idea why anyone would ever need to leave. Her chambers were as opulently decorated as his; and included a large bedroom, bathroom, and smaller sitting room. He'd told her to take whatever room she wished, but she chose the ones closest to his. He'd need her nearby frequently for the first month at least.

She was right about Ron and Harry, although, at least Harry didn't scream at her. Just about everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley thought she had lost her mind. They understood she felt an obligation to help, and they commended her for it. Everyone else thought he was a hopeless cause and she'd only end up getting hurt. She didn't care. She had patience. If he worked hard, she'd get him back on his feet and into the world again. That was, if he'd stop being so bloody headstrong.

"It's irritating because you refuse to submit to therapy more than fifteen minutes at a time," she said irritably.

"Submit?" Draco scoffed. "Malfoys don't submit to anything."

"Except Voldemort, of course," she quipped, and it was a testament to how close they'd become that he didn't hex her for that comment. He just ignored her and went back to muttering at the magical, metal prosthetic leg attached to his left side.

Magical false limbs were both different and similar to Muggle ones. Essentially, they looked the same. The main difference was in how they were attached. With the use of magic, the pain and suffering of an ill fit and chaffing were non-existent. Hermione knew the bulk of Malfoy's pains were phantom pains from his missing leg - and, of course, the emotional trauma of losing part of yourself.

There had been some discussion of using the spell Voldemort used on Wormtail to replace Malfoy's leg, but he outright refused. There was no way to be exactly sure the effects of such a Dark spell, and Malfoy had been convinced that the new hand made Wormtail even crazier than he'd been before.

"Up you go," she said, ignoring him soundly as she helped him pull himself back up with the bar. "If you start getting this, you'll be able to leave the house again."

"And go were?" Malfoy muttered. "Knockturn Alley where all the freaks belong?"

"Merlin be damned, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted. "You are not a freak! You are brave and strong. Or at least you were, before you decided to devolve into this pathetic mess of self-pity! There are people who have much less than you! People have died! You deserve to live as much as anyone else, and I'm sick of listening to you call yourself a freak and give up!"

He stared at her, shocked, as his jaw dropped. She'd told him the same things before, but rarely with such intensity. His eyes took her in for a long moment before he finally nodded slightly and lifted himself on the bars. He took one step before collapsing against them again.

He hated her. Well, no, he didn't hate her. Merlin, he'd just convinced himself that he'd work up the nerve to ask her on a proper date after the war - until, he'd woken up in St. Mungo's missing a leg and scared to hell. He was a fucking cripple, and marred to boot. Plus, he had been certain Granger had made an epic failure of judgment and decided to date the Weasel.

It was only when he'd overheard Harry pleading his male friend's case to her just outside his room that he realized that moronic ginger didn't realize what he had when he had it. He'd have hexed the twat for hurting Granger if he were the old Malfoy. Still, when he'd woken up that way, he knew there was only one option for him. Get the fuck out of St. Mungo's and get his hands on one of his Godfather's most effective poisons and end it all.

Only the woman he'd been intrigued by over the last months also became his private guard. He'd sent the rest of them out in tears, not even able to enjoy how he made them shake and cringe before delivering the final, upsetting blow. But of course, none of that would work on Granger. He'd known that when she stepped foot in his room. He'd tried anyway, though.

Instead, the bloody witch wormed her way into his life and into his house. As much as he just wanted to wallow in self-pity before slipping into eternal unconsciousness, she wouldn't let him. And the pity...the fucking pity was enough to make him wish he could hate her.

He knew very well that he was only half a man now. His whole life, he'd had two things going for him: his immense wealth and his ability to charm the pants off of any witch or wizard this side of Gryffindor house. He still had his wealth, but what the hell would he spend it on? Knockturn Alley's finest whores? They were going to be the only women willing to fuck him any longer.

He punched his mattress in frustration. Looking down at the metal contraption stuck to the stump of a limb he once had, he sneered in disgust. Worse than a fucking Squib. He was a cripple and the best he could hope for in life was quiet solitude and the temporary release of desperate prostitutes.

She was so bloody optimistic. 'You aren't a freak, Malfoy. You still have a life, Malfoy. There are plenty of people worse off than you, Malfoy.' It made him want to scream. What was worse, he was starting to wonder if she really felt that way or is she was just being undeniably...Granger.

The fucking thing mocked him. It looked like a leg, or as close to a leg as metal could get. But walking was nothing like it used to be. The smooth Malfoy strut is a thing of the past. Five weeks of non-stop therapy and the best he could manage was an exaggerated limp. Granger swore the limp would be practically non-existent by the time winter rolled around. Joy to the fucking world.

At least he could get out of the house now. Watching Granger flit around his house like she was Lady of the Manor had done nothing but give him ridiculously graphic dreams about her that left him hard and aching every morning. Jerking off was not as satisfying as fucking, no matter what anyone said. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone this long without sex, and he was starting to get desperate enough to leave the safety of the Manor and find some companionship for pay. Before the war, he'd have more than scoffed at the idea of paying for sex, but as it was, he had no other options and he knew he had to fuck Granger out of his damn head.

He really should tell her to leave. She didn't seem to want to, and he wasn't all that keen on making her. The truth was, once he was fully recovered, and she left, he'd have nothing. No one. Snape's potions would probably call to him then. He suspected Granger knew that well enough, which was why she never ceased coming up with more things for him to work on. More exercises, more goals, more to live for. He rolled his eyes at the thought. More to live for? Like what? Pity sex and reading every book in his library?

Hermione smiled so brightly she thought her cheeks would burst when Malfoy informed her that he was going out. It had been well over a month of hard work and he was making great progress. His attitude had improved immensely, but she had no delusions that he was mentally recovered. There were still times that she caught him, staring at his stump, or into the mirror, and she saw such self-loathing it nearly knocked her on her ass.

She hated the Malfoys. Not just for what they stood for - before Draco - but for raising a son who couldn't see his value beyond what the most superficial thought of him. She didn't even see the scars anymore. Honestly, they meant nothing to her but the fact that he'd stood up in the face of his entire upbringing and stood for the right side. He'd fought hard, and he was a survivor.

His artificial leg really didn't bother her in the least, though he wouldn't believe her. No matter how many times she told him, he scoffed and told her he didn't need her pity. She didn't pity him. Pity was insulting for a war hero, which is what she knew him to be - even if her friends didn't understand. Draco Malfoy was braver than all of them because he did the right thing even in the face of everything telling him not to.

She supposed she'd romanticized him slightly. Being in Grimmauld Place with him for all those months of planning, she'd come to know him, and like him. She had no idea about the real Draco though. Not until she came to stay with him, and help him want to live.

Through the moments of pathetic, childish sullenness, she saw who he really was. Sarcastic, smart, snarky, and so quick. He could follow her conversations, jokes, and stream of thought in a way no one in her life ever could. He was still painfully beautiful - as he'd always been - and she found her stomach fluttering in his presence more than once.

Even their fights made her stomach tighten. They could come nearly to blows over any old issue; from his lack of commitment to his therapy to her insistence that none of his House-elves wait on her. And when they were done, they could laugh and move on. Merlin, when she and Ron fought it was always capped by weeks of annoying silence and pouting.

As much as she wanted to keep this Malfoy to herself, she was proud of him for taking the first steps to independence. She just wasn't sure what she'd do when he finally asked her to leave. He'd quickly become her whole world without her even realizing it.

She knew these thoughts were dangerous. She was close to having a full-blown crush on a man who might not even want to live. A man who had so many issues, and could never possibly see her as anything but a swotty annoyance. Friendship was one thing. Draco had slept with half of Hogwarts. She was sure he didn't need inexperienced, and emotionally needy Hermione Granger to add to his problem. Nor would he likely want her. Not that way, at least.

She sighed to herself. Forgetting her moronic notion that she and Ron belonged together - something she'd rationalized as a romanticizing of his character, proximity, and a healthy dose of hormones - she'd never felt about someone like she felt about Malfoy, and it scared her a bit. He was unexpected. He was not comfortable or safe. She was not used to that.

She tried to banish thoughts of him as she settled into her own sitting room with a copy of Jane Eyre. The large house felt weird without its owner's presence, but she supposed she'd have to get used to that, the more independent he became. The thought sent a pang through her heart which she chose to ignore as she turned back to her book.

Shouting woke her from her uncomfortable position on the couch. Her book had long since fallen on the floor, and she had drool dripping from the side of her mouth.

"Keep your voice down!" Malfoy's heated voice said through gritted teeth. The walls were practically made of paper, though, and she heard him anyway. Who was he talking to?

"I told you, it's extra!" A sharp voice of a woman rang through, shrill and loud. "You didn't tell me you were crippled!"

Hermione's eyes went wide as anger coursed through her. Crippled? She hated that fucking word. Who the hell was in Malfoy's house calling him a cripple? Her brain was still fuzzy from her impromptu nap, but she had to make sure Malfoy was okay. As competent as he had become, he would still be at risk if his prosthetic was removed.

She padded out of her own room and toward his, slipping through his sitting room and toward the door of his bedroom.

"You are trying to cheat me, you whore. I'm not an idiot," Draco's voice rang out in disdain, but Hermione could hear the pain in his words. Perhaps she was the only one who could. What the fuck was going on?

She pushed his door open a crack, but neither person in the room noticed. Her eyes widened and she gasped as she saw Draco, naked, lying on his back in the middle of his bed and a half naked women standing at the edge of the bed, hands on her hips.

"That's the price," she said, her voice snide.

"You already fucked me. You don't get to renegotiate the price later."

Hermione gasped, a clear picture of what was going on finally falling into place. The pang of jealousy had to be pushed aside for the moment as she realized she had to deal with this situation. Malfoy didn't seem to realize that, prostitute or not, the witch probably had a wand and would have no problems killing him or taking, forcefully, what she felt she was due.

Pushing the door open further, Hermione stepped into the room. "What is going on here?" she asked, ignoring Draco completely as he gasped in horror and threw the duvet of his bed over his naked form. Not as if she hadn't seen it all already. She had been his nurse for months, after all.

"Well, your husband owes me money," the prostitute answered haughtily, her hand moving away from her wand holster.

Draco remained silent as Hermione glared down the prostitute. "For what, exactly?" she asked, holding her own wand casually at her side. She ignored the implication that she was Malfoy's wife. It was a reasonable assumption after all. The thought that this woman believed she was being betrayed in her own home, made her scalp prickle, but she pushed the thought away. She wasn't Malfoy's wife, and this woman's opinion was of no consequence.

"False advertisement," the woman replied, cocking her eyebrow.

"I highly doubt the clientele you are used to in Knockturn Alley is any better than Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you take what you negotiated and get the fuck out." Hermione said, her tone arctic as she let the fact that Malfoy had just brought a prostitute back to his house and screwed her right next door to sink in. Her stomach felt like a gnawing pit. But before she could dwell on the way her heart ached in jealousy, she had to get this woman out of the house. There was no telling how dangerous the situation could become. She was Draco's nurse, first and foremost - no matter what she really wanted.

The woman huffed and looked like she was about to protest, but seeing herself outnumbered must have changed her mind. With another huff, she pushed past Hermione and out the door where one of Malfoy's house elves helpfully showed her the exit. Hermione sagged in relief before sparing a look at Malfoy.

He looked guilty and she wondered why. It wasn't as if she had any rightful argument against what he'd done with that woman. It was his money. It was his life. If he wanted to spend it fucking whores, that was his prerogative. The emotions raging inside her hated him for it, though. She was right there, every day, and he preferred the company of a Knockturn Alley prostitute.

"Granger," he said, his voice strangled with a mix of things. Embarrassment, hurt, anger...she didn't know who these emotions were aimed at, but she couldn't stay in the room for a moment longer. Not picturing him in the throes of passion with that horrible woman.

She put her hand up to stop him. "It's your money," she said. "Next time, you might want to reconsider letting them in your home, though. It's not safe, is it?" She turned to go, hearing the shifting of clothes behind her as she raced for the door.

"Granger, please..." he choked out.

She didn't know why he was so upset. Sure, it was embarrassing, but she wasn't going to rub it in, if that was what he was worried about. In actuality, she wanted to forget all about it. The pain in her gut hurt too much. "You don't owe me an explanation," she said, turning back to see him standing at the edge of the bed, a luxurious robe wrapped around him. His eyes were haunted. Almost as haunted as they had been when she first started working with him. She wondered why.

She didn't let herself look back again as she ran from the room, needing to get as far from him as possible. She didn't want to admit it. She prided herself on not being a judgmental person, but the thought of him picking up a hooker and bringing her back to the house disgusted her. That was even before she let herself think about the fact that he'd rather sleep with a stranger for pay than consider her.

She slipped into bed but her mind didn't shut down for a very long time. Tossing and turning, she finally found rest after she could no longer picture Malfoy fucking that woman.

Sleep certainly didn't come to Draco either. He stared at the spot Granger fled from for a very long time before sighing and limping into the bathroom to shower. He detached his metal leg and placed it up against the wall near the three-headed oversized glass shower. With a sigh, he pulled the robe off and stepped inside, letting water try to wash away the shitty night.

He'd thought sex would work. Sex had always worked before, and while he'd never had to pay before, he certainly hadn't felt much for the women he slept with. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He did have a fairly serious relationship with Daphne Greengrass his Sixth Year. But other than that, sex had been nothing more than release. With Granger constantly around, he needed release more than anything.

But it hadn't worked, and it hadn't relaxed him, or fixed his Granger problem. For one, the whore hadn't been that good in bed. She was loud, too rough, and obviously in a hurry to get him off and get out of there. Then there was the debacle about the money. He'd been mortified at negotiating prices with a prostitute in Knockturn Alley, but such was his lot in life. Finally, they decided on a price and that was that. Until he'd come inside her, thinking of what it would be like to be inside Granger instead. Then the stupid bint had demanded fifty more Galleons on account of the fact that he was 'deformed', as she put it.

As angry as that had made him, he couldn't help the sheer embarrassment and hurt he felt at knowing she felt comfortable using his lost leg and scared flesh against him for more money. She knew where to hit him. He might have been hurt enough to give her the money just to make her leave, but Malfoy was a businessman if nothing else, and he refused to be cheated.

His need to win had totally fucked him this time. Instead of getting the bitch out of the house before Granger ever found out she'd been there, their argument had alerted her attention and she walked in on...that. He shuddered under the spray of the water. He'd never been more humiliated in his entire life. The woman he'd fallen for had to kick his whore out of the house. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He knew that any chance that she could ever respect him were out the window now. He'd seen the look in her eyes. Disappointment, anger, hurt. He couldn't figure out her reaction. Disappointment he understood. She was pure as the driven snow. The idea of paying for sex probably disgusted her. Hell, it disgusted him too. But anger? Did she really expect him to be celibate for the rest of his life? Hurt? Why would she be hurt? Sleeping with that woman had nothing to do with her. Not really. Perhaps he was reading her wrong. Maybe it had nothing to do with him. Or maybe he was seeing what he wanted to. Either way, he was sure the dynamic in the Malfoy house had changed, and he just wished he could go back to the way is was before he ever left the house.

Antarctic is how he might have described his physical therapy session the next day. It was incredibly frustrating. The more Draco thought about it, the more irritated he became. What the hell was wrong with Granger, anyway? Sure, the whole situation has been embarrassing and even probably affronting to her nature. But it was his life, and his dick. He could do with it what he wanted.

"How's the length?" she asked shortly, arms crossed over her chest as she looked only at his prosthetic leg as he did his exercises.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Good," she said. "So, perhaps it's time to talk about my moving back to London."

Well, that came out of nowhere. Sure, he could live on his own. Probably could have done for the last month, but Granger had seemed so intent on staying. Now, all of a sudden, she's ready to pack her bags.

"Is this about last night?" Draco asked. "Because I'm sorry about that."

"It's not my business," she answered quickly. "What you do with your time is not up to me."

He sighed. "Granger, you are terrible at feigning disinterest," he finally said, finding his courage. If she was going to pout, at least they'd better talk about it.

"Why would I be interested in whom you sleep with?" she said.

Draco knew he could hear it in her voice. A tremor that told him she absolutely did care about who he slept with. Interesting. Was it just personal morals, or was it more? Dare he dream that she felt anything for him other than pity, obligation, and maybe friendship? He shook his head. No. How could she. She was Hermione Granger. Celebrity of the Wizarding world. He was a damaged, bitter man who had nothing to offer her. "I don't know," he said. "But clearly you are. Now, do you want to talk about it, or continue silently judging me?"

She said nothing so he continued. It was now or never. Either she'd leave angry and he'd never see her again, or he could finally lay things out there and she'd probably leave anyway. But at least she'd understand.

"Look, Granger. Whether you approve or not, for several years I've been a sexual person. I've fucked many women, and I enjoy it. Considering no one will willingly fuck me any longer because of my deformity, I decided to try paying for it. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Now, if you could take your self-righteousness and shove it, that would be great," he said, feeling better. The way she flinched when he cursed gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. He didn't know why he was so angry at her.

"You are an idiot, Malfoy," she muttered shaking her head. "It's pathetic how obsessed you are with things that do not matter. If you really think this way, I feel sorry for you."

With that, she stomped out of the room and left Draco standing there gaping at the doorway. What the hell was she implying? That he shouldn't care about sex or companionship. Was she really that frigid? He couldn't believe that. He saw passion and fire in her. He knew she wasn't a prude, regardless of what others thought. Did being a crippled gimp mean that he should simply give up on things he enjoyed? Perhaps Snape's potions would be a better alternative after all.

Hermione was mad. Steaming mad. It seemed, no matter what she did, that stupid man only thought the worst of himself. Really, he believed that no willing woman would sleep with him, so he'd have to pay for sex. No love. No marriage. No possible family. He was resigned to hobbling around Knockturn Alley and finding hookers to pay to sleep with him. What a fucking moron.

She shouldn't have walked out. She realized that after she had a chance to calm down. Seeing him the next morning, she couldn't stop the hurt that she felt. Sure, she'd silently fallen for him, but she thought they were close enough that he could talk to her. She'd been blindsided. She had no idea he was even considering paying someone for sex.

Sighing in frustration, she padded back to his sitting room to apologize, but found the room empty. "Malfoy?" she called.

"What?"

She heard his muffled voice coming from the door to his bedroom. He was mad at her. She guessed she could understand. What right did she have to treat him like this for exercising his free right to sleep with someone? Steeling herself for battle, she moved into his bedroom and took note of him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, sitting next to him. He looked down at his feet and said nothing. She guessed it was her turn to talk now. "It makes me mad, how you see yourself," she finally said. "There is nothing wrong with you." When he scoffed, she pursed her lips and continued on. "There isn't. You are beautiful." She heard his strangled gasp before he turned to look at her, mistrust in his eyes and she glared at him. "I'm not in the business of lying about things. Especially when the confession is so personal. I think you are beautiful, Malfoy. I always have, probably. But the last few months, you've shown me a strength of character that humbles me." She watched him closely as his mistrust turned to hope, and her breath caught. Hope. Could it be that he might want her as much as she wanted him? It didn't matter; she had to get everything out, regardless.

"I don't care about your leg. I don't care about your scars. I barely see them, in all honestly. I have scars too, you know. Everyone from this war does, either physical or mental. The only reason that idiotic cunt you paid to come here talked to you like that is because her worthless ass has never fought for anything in her life."

She saw him smirk at her vehemence and she blushed, looking down at her hands with a slight giggle. "I hated her. The moment I knew what was going on. I hated her. I couldn't believe you'd have paid to have her comfort you when I was just 10 yards away."

She looked at him nervously as he stared at her, mouth open, his eyes showing a myriad of conflicting emotions. "I should probably go," she finally said, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she realized she'd just basically told him that she had feelings for him and would have liked him to solicit her for sex. And he'd said nothing.

As she was about to rise from her place next to him, he reached up and cupped her cheek, pulling her face toward his and kissing her soundly on the lips.

Holy Fuck! Draco had no idea what he was doing, but he was certain he had little control over his body at the moment. The second her mouth opened and kissed him back, though...Merlin!

She was tentative, but receptive, and he could not believe he was kissing her. After the debacle the night before, he was certain that she'd be out the door in a matter of days. Instead, she'd admitted that she had some kind of feelings for him, and while he couldn't understand why, he wasn't going to let the possibility slip through his fingers.

It wasn't even the desperation of being alone with her. It was something so much more. Her hands fisted his shirt and he felt her shift next to him, getting a better angle to attack his mouth. "Draco..." she breathed as she pulled away, and the sound of his name on her lips made his cock jump.

The look in her eyes was one of lust, shock, and a bit of apprehension. Her lips were already swollen from his kiss and his cock jumped again. "No pity?" he said simply, needing to know that she kissed him back because she wanted to. Merlin knew why she'd want it, but he really hoped she did.

"Draco, you are so bloody stupid," she breathed, no real conviction in her harsh words. "How many times do I have to I explain that I don't pity you? I admire you. Your scars are a badge of honor, so stop fixating on them and let me show you how I see you."

Before he could respond, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as she settled on his lap and devoured his mouth with hers. His heart pounded in his chest as his hands moved deftly up her sides to cup her jaw and slow the intensity of her kiss just slightly. Merlin's tit. She was so passionate he felt like she'd explode in his arms and he wanted more of it.

She was doing this. She was really doing this. After nights of unsatisfied fantasies and days of wondering just how Draco had wormed his way into her heart, she was his, at least in the moment. And it felt amazing.

"Hermione..." he whispered across the heated skin of her neck as he kissed a path down to her collarbone. "Fuck! I've wanted you for so long," he mumbled against her.

She felt her pussy clinch at the thought. She'd never had any idea how he really felt. "Me too..." she admitted between pants as his hands worked up the side of her shirt and she felt the calluses he'd acquired from his crutches against her smooth skin. She felt overheated and grunted in frustration when the sensation became too much. Pulling back, she whipped her shirt over her head and pulled Draco's shocked mouth back to her's, muffling whatever he'd begun to say. She was too busy working on his shirt, trying to unbutton it while never taking her mouth off of his. She moved across his cheek to his scar and tenderly kissed his discolored strip of skin. He shuddered beneath her.

As she pulled his shirt off his shoulders, she kissed her way down his neck, following the criss cross pattern of scars that lead down his chest.

"Don't..." he whimpered against her, his eyes shut tight as she looked down at him.

"Draco, look at me," she said, her voice husky and raw. He opened his eyes as she pulled back and she moved his hand to the dark, deep scar that started at the bottom of her ribs. Doholov's gift from the Ministry of Magic. She was nervous. No one but Ron and Madam Pomfrey had seen this scar and Ron had promptly dumped her the next day. But she knew Draco needed to understand that his scars and his leg really meant nothing to her, except in how they illustrated his sacrifice.

"Am I ugly?" she asked boldly, using her free arm to unsnap her bra. She let it fall down her arms so he could see where her scar stopped just over her left breast. "Am I unworthy of love, Draco?" Her voice was shaking both with adrenaline and anxiety that he might run, and what would she do if he did?

He shook his head and leaned forward, kissing the end of her scar that nearly touched her nipple. Her eyes slipped shut and her head lolled back as his tongue licked at her skin. A harsh pant escaped her lips and his mouth moved to suck her newly exposed nipple.

She keened and let her nails dig into his scalp as she held him closer. This was so much better than she'd even imagined. The nerves she felt at exposing herself to him melted into shudders of desire and she couldn't help but grip him harder between her thighs in hopes of relieving the tension there.

"Fuck, Hermione..." Draco cried out, shifting his hips so that the bulge in his pants was straining against her heated crotch. It was the first time she could remember hearing him say her first name, and the way he said it turned her insides to goo.

Her hands moved to the button of his trousers and she stopped only for a moment, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do you want this?" she asked.

"Fuck yes..." he hissed, moving his own hands down to the tie of her sweatpants and pulling it loose.

She leaned forward, forcefully planting a kiss on his lips before sliding off his lap and letting her pants fall to the floor.

Draco's eyes widened as he saw her standing before him only in the most adorable white cotton knickers he'd ever seen. Her breasts were pink from the blush that traveled down her delicate skin and her eyes were hungry. He didn't know why, but Hermione Granger wanted him, bad.

His fingers quickly worked the button and zip of his trousers and he shifted his hips to pull them down his legs, but she was there in an instant, moving back toward him. Her fingers moved up to his underwear and tugged at them too making her intention clear. Both had to go. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to maintain composure. For the moment, he was immensely grateful for that stupid prostitute. At least it meant he most likely wouldn't come in under five seconds.

She stripped him naked, taking special care as she moved his pants over his prosthetic, and he felt a pang of remorse that he wasn't whole for her. The feeling was fleeting, though, because soon she was unhooking the metal leg from him like a pro. He bit his lip to keep from begging her to leave it on. He knew it would only make her mad, and in all honesty, he actually believed her when she said it didn't bother her.

He used his arms to scoot back on the bed and she kneeled over him looking like a wet dream goddess. "Draco, watch me," she said, bending down near his feet so that she was hovering over the stump of what was left of his left leg. Her gentle fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin there and he shivered in pleasure.

He watched her, just as she requested as she bent down and placed a soft chaste kiss at the tip of his leg. "You are a war hero," she said. "Nothing less."

"Merlin, Hermione..." he choked, feeling emotions he couldn't even define washing over him. He'd never felt that connected to someone, or felt that intense - ever. He reached down and pulled her back up to his lips, and wrapped his hands in her hair as he brutally kissed her.

She gave as good as she got, and he hissed as her cotton covered quim rubbed against his naked cock. He moved his hands down to her hips, gripped both sides of her knickers, and ripped them off of her.

"Draco!" she cried, shocked.

He just grinned up at her. "I'll buy you another pair," he said, not the least bit sorry.

She smirked and rolled her eyes at him before taking advantage of her nakedness to rub her wet pussy against him.

"For fuck's sake..." he groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Her hands went to his chest to steady herself as she rubbed up and down against his shaft.

"Please, Hermione..." he choked, trying to keep his sanity.

"Please what?" she said, feigning innocence.

He smiled as he wondered where the hell this brazen woman came from. Two could play at that game. He might have been rusty, but he was Draco-fucking-Malfoy. He still had it. Angling his hips, he tilted so that the head of his dick was right at her entrance. "Fuck me, baby," he purred, his fingers flexing around her hips as he felt her jolt and a drop of wetness from her cunt slid down his shaft.

She moaned and bit her lip, holding onto him for purchase as she pushed down, wrapping his cock in her tight hot walls. Both of them groaned in unison as he filled her completely.

Hermione was light headed with arousal as she lifted herself and fell back down on him, slow at first, then finding a pace that kept her right on the edge, ready to fall over the precipice with the slight flick of her clit.

She opened her eyes and looked down at Draco, feeling supremely powerful that she could reduce this strong man into a puddle of moaning arousal. His fingers dug into her hips and ass as he arched up to meet her thrust for thrust, but she could tell no coherent thoughts were going on in his head. This was primal. This is what need felt like. She'd never known this before.

The only experience she had was that one time with Ron, and that had been awkward and rushed. This was fucking perfect. She didn't know how long he would last, but she was certain when he came undone it would be beautiful.

His grip tightened and his eyes snapped to hers. "I'm close..." he warned. "Are you close?"

"Uh huh," she moaned, nodding as she picked up the pace just slightly.

"Fuck, just like that," Draco cried, moving one hand to the juncture where they met and rubbing her clit hard and fast with the pad of his thumb.

She cried out and bucked harder and faster, seeking an end to the tension until..."AHHH!" she cried, her orgasm hitting her like a freight train as she arched her back and clamped down around his thick cock.

"Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco..." she chanted over and over as the waves of her orgasm ebbed and flowed through her body, and she was vaguely aware of his grip tightening and his cock pulsing inside her.

"Fuck, Hermione...shit!' he cried out before a long visceral moan released as his hips bucked uncontrollably into her.

She'd already begun to collapse on top of him before he even finished coming inside her and her eyes snapped open instantly once she realized her mistake. "Fuck!" she cried. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Buggering fuck!"

"Huh?" Draco mumbled inarticulately as she moved off of him and scrambled around on the floor for her wand.

"I'm not on anything," she said, sighing with relief when she found her wand. Pointing it at her womb, she uttered the spell she'd learned some years ago, just in case. A last resort to avoid unwanted pregnancy, even if you'd been too carless to take the proper precautions beforehand.

"Oops," Draco said, with a soft chuckle.

"Oops?" Hermione said, stamping her foot, which was all the more funny since she was bare-ass naked. "It would not be so funny if that spell didn't exist!"

"But it does," he replied lazily. "Come back to bed."

She conceded his point and climbed into the bed and under the covers where he quickly wrapped one arm around her and pulled her into his chest.

"So...wow." he finally said.

"You know, you don't have to fill the silence all the time," Hermione said, but she was secretly pleased at his reaction.

"I think, after having sex with Hermione Granger, I most certainly do have to fill the silence. Especially since I hadn't expected that in one million years," he responded.

She blushed and looked up at him. "I know," she said. "I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just...I didn't know how to say anything or if you wanted something like that with me."

"I didn't think I was good enough for you," Draco admitted. "I...I know you don't understand. It's hard for me to accept myself like this."

"It's silly," Hermione said, indignantly. "You are fucking gorgeous. You always have been and I don't see that changing any time soon."

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "I'm just glad that's what you see." He went serious for a moment and lifted her chin so that he knew she was looking at him. "That prostitute was stupid. I know that now. I should have at least had the guts to try to appeal to you instead of just giving up."

"It's over now," Hermione said. "Besides, I really don't want to think about her after making love to you...Oh God!" she cried suddenly. "You changed these sheets, right?!"

Draco couldn't help it; he burst into laughter. "Of course," he laughed. "You think I wanted to sleep in those sheets after that?"

Hermione smiled slightly, appeased. "So, are you finally convinced you are not worthless?" she finally asked after a long silence.

"If you see value in me, it must be so. You've never been wrong before," he said.

He was joking, but she knew he had turned a corner, and she felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. Draco Malfoy was not a danger to himself any longer. "So, what now?" she asked.

"Now, you move into my room. What else?" Draco stated simply.

"That easy?" she asked.

"Why not? You've lived here for months. I'll never force you to stay if you want to go. But I want you here. With me."

His eyes showed how totally serious he was and how important her answer would be to him and she could only think of one thing to say. "Alright," she said. "But don't think I'm going to take it easy on you in therapy just because you're sleeping with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Granger."

Five Years Later

"Guess what," Hermione said, plopping down on Draco's lap and causing him to grunt from the force.

"What?" he asked dropping the Daily Prophet and turning his attention to his wife.

"James is going to be staying the night with us tomorrow night for practice," she said, her eyes shining with something he couldn't put his finger on.

"Okay..." he said, unsure why that was worthy of such an announcement. Potter and the She-Weasel had given birth to the boy three months ago, and Hermione had been itching to get her hands on him from day one. Then something she said hit him.

"Practice for what?" he finally asked, and he saw her eyes brighten.

"Well, we'll need all the practice we can get. Because seven months from now, we'll have one of our own," she said, pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket. There, in moving picture, was what could best be described as a peanut with a heartbeat. His eyes widened.

"Seriously?" he asked.

She smiled brighter and nodded, throwing her arms around him and pulling him in tight. He was shocked, overjoyed, and most of all, he was so happy he'd never succumbed to the self-pity that could have ruined him all those years ago.