Blood Moon

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/50538562.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise
Zabini
Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, Blood and Violence, Primal Chase Kink, Draco
Malfoy Has a Large Cock, Biting used as foreplay, He just wants to take
care of her, Blaise and Theo are good friends, there is somehow a plot,
death (no one you'd care about), HEA, No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,
But there is an Alpha, Breeding Kink
Language: English
Collections: Dramione Teratophilia Fest 2.0, Hotttttt Dramione
Stats: Published: 2023-11-25 Words: 9,911 Chapters: 2/2
 Blood Moon
by NinaBinaBallerina

Summary

Under a blood moon, Lycans hunt the forest for their mates.

And Draco Malfoy knew just the witch he wanted to sink his teeth into.

Notes

Song Suggestion: Florence + The Machine- "Howl"

Translation into Español available: Luna de sangre - TRADUCCIÓN by kesia2024

Translation into Português brasileiro available: Lua de Sangue by Pixys_Malfoy
Translation into Bahasa Indonesia available: Blood Moon by NinaBinaBallerina (Terjemahan) by
dramionemania
Translation into Português brasileiro available: Blood Moon | Tradução [COMPLETO] by
moonletterss
 Blood Moon
Chapter Notes

A big thank you to my beta, MyPrivateInsanity!

Blood Moon

Granger smelled like a storm. Violent lightning, electrifying his body. If he flicked out his
tongue, the sharp metal of her blood flooded his senses. His mouth watered, and he pressed
his teeth together tight to prevent a reaction.

Draco tried to focus on the witch in front of him while she gave a report of her research, but
she’d tucked her wand behind her ear in a careless way. Dark circles shadowed under her
eyes. Ink stained her fingers. A muggle skirt draped along her curves, paired with a silk
blouse that was positively indecent in the way it teased what lay beneath.

He wished Granger would take better care of herself. When she became too focused on
projects, he often needed to take covert action, because reminding her to perform basic
functions never worked. Sometimes, he slipped a dreamless sleep in her tea, forcing her to
rest for a bit. He’d then give her cushioning charms and conjure a blanket.

“Are you even listening to me?” Granger asked, shoving the parchments at him.

“You were complaining about Roger from Floor Three denying your request. You also want
to find more books about Lycans, because you believe they aren’t a myth, a creature separate
from werewolves. You want to give them representation in the Wizengamot and pass laws to
secure them as protected sentient creatures. Is that all?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her hip, as if she hadn’t really thought he
could give her a verbatim summary. “Well, yes, I want us both to work on the case. I think
I’ve found a lead in—”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

He’d never told her no before, even if working with Granger was torture. In multiple ways.

Every so often, they assigned him as an auror for her cases when she needed to negotiate with
the centaurs or the trolls.

But this assignment wasn’t ordered by higher ups. This was a mission concocted in her giant
brain, and it would only lead to trouble. Once Granger locked on to her cause, she wouldn’t
relent until she followed it to disastrous conclusions. He generally went along with her
reckless schemes, but it was too close to the full moon, and he needed to be firm.

“If the Lycans have lived among us all this time without issue, then we should leave them
alone. They obviously don’t wish to be found. And they also don’t need or want a
champion.”

“We can’t know that,” Hermione said. “They’re allowed to exist in public spaces just like
werewolves and vampires. They don’t have to hide anymore. At least, I’d like to meet them
and offer options.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Tell you what, Granger. In two weeks, I’ll help you try to find them.”

“But in two weeks, they’ll probably disappear. From what I’ve been able to find, the packs
gather under the blood moon somewhere close to Wiltshire—near your manor! That would
be the best time to study them. I’d lose my chance for a long time!”

Exactly his plan.

“I know this is hard for you, Granger, but you need to drop this quest.” Draco stood up and
procured his lunch out of the drawer beside him, shoving it into her hands, unwilling to listen
to her protest. “Eat this before you collapse.”

Ten Days Later

“The Midnight Hunt is in two days, Draco.”

He made a hum of agreement and stabbed a potato, bringing it to his lips, grimacing in
disgust. Close to a full moon, his instincts craved flesh and blood, and everything else tasted
like dirt.

“Have you made your selection from the list of witches participating?”

Another hum.

“Are you even listening?” The rebuke reminded him of Granger.

“Yes, father.”

Lucius set his napkin by his plate.

“This is serious, Draco. While you’re not guaranteed to win the witch you select, you can’t
enter the hunt without a plan or a preference. I will not have you tied down to someone
unworthy of the Malfoy name.”

In two days, he would need to complete the Midnight Hunt— a tradition every male Lycan of
age participated in to find a mate. Under the full moon, transformed into a Lycan, he’d hunt
down a human female, bite her, and mate her. If father had his way, he’d also impregnate the
witch with the next Malfoy heir that very night.

Draco had known he’d have to participate his whole life, yet it always seemed so far away. A
distant duty. But time had snuck up on him.

The problem—he didn’t want to mate any of the women on the lists. His father had made
sure many of the purebloods around his age had agreed to the terms. But Daphne and Pansy
were like his sisters, and he wasn’t attracted to any of the others. Pureblood circles ran small,
and he’d already fucked the ones he thought decent enough.

But he also knew his father wouldn’t leave him alone until he produced a name.

Perhaps Pansy? It wouldn’t be love, not like his parents, but at least they were friends and
knew each other. He wouldn’t mind if she had her own flings on the side, and if she were
okay with it, he’d have his. Still, the thought twisted his stomach.

“I’ve decided on—”

The door opened, interrupting his announcement. Theo walked in, eyes flicking to Draco.
“There’s been a complication.”

Draco entered the dungeon first, followed by his father. Theo was there too, along with Goyle
and an associate from Belgium, tasked with monitoring the extended territories for potential
intruders in preparation for the hunt.

The man had a giant bag at his feet, designed to capture wizards. It was interwoven with
obsidian, reducing any chance of retaliatory wandless magic. Inside, a body squirmed,
producing muffled noises.

“This woman was found wandering close to the fairy circles near the southern section of the
moon hunts. After capturing her, we discovered she’d been researching our kind for several
years. Obliviating that amount might be complicated, which is why I came to you for the
final decision.”
“Take her out of the bag,” his father ordered.

The man did as he said. After untying the knots, he ripped away the cloth. The bushy hair
came first, wilder than normal. The dark circles. The ink stains. The familiar blouse, though
she’d swapped out her normal skirt for trousers.

Hermione Granger glared at them, a scathing threat on the tip of her tongue. When she caught
sight of Draco, whatever she meant to say died instantly, replaced by a shocked gasp.

Draco used all his years of occlumency training to contain his horror. But his feet shuffled
back. Eyes widened. And his heart rate increased.

He’d been wrong. In this environment, Hermione smelled like prey, a rabbit in the meadow.
Pulse fluttering under delicate skin. No armour to protect her from the violent shred of flesh.
This time, even through clenched teeth, his canines elongated, and he shivered in his attempt
to keep his claws retracted.

“Hermione Granger,” his father drawled, clicking his cane against the stone floor. “What an
unfortunate surprise.”

“Release me right now—”

Lucius cast a silencio before she could finish her demand.

“What should we do with her?” The Belgian asked.

Quiet engulfed the room, the interminable wait for his father’s judgement— the Alpha now
of all Britain. What his father decreed would be law. Draco stood rigid and poised with
tension, wondering what he should do.

He’d fucking warned her to stay away. He should have known she’d disobey.

“If we can’t obliviate her without detection, then we’ll have to kill her.” His father’s decision
felt like a nail into his chest.

“No!” Draco curled his fists so hard the points of his claws pricked the skin on his palms. His
biology made it physically hurt to disagree, but he was a future Alpha too— the only person
capable of fighting his father’s edicts.

Lucius made a slow turn to view him, searching his expression. Despite occlumency, his
father saw through the walls he attempted to erect. “Personal feelings cannot get in the way
of pack safety, son.”

Draco swallowed hard, mind racing. His brain snagged on an idea, something he used to only
daydream about. The idea grew roots quickly, until it punctured through his being with
greedy hope. If he wanted to save her, he needed more than emotion. He needed logic. It was
the only way he’d sway his father.

“Killing Hermione Granger would only lead to a serious investigation. Even if we hid her
body. I’m sure she left enough breadcrumbs in her office and flat to lead them straight here.”
Hermione gave a soundless gasp at his cold tone, but he ignored her.

“You’re a lead auror,” his father reminded him with a tinge of amusement. “I’m sure you can
get around it.”

“And so is Harry Potter. You tell me… despite our best efforts, who has more clout in the
ministry? Potter’s never warmed up to me, no matter how hard I’ve tried. All it would take is
a moment of suspicion, and we’d be doomed. You only got out of Azkaban a year ago. The
ministry will not hesitate to put you back in, even on only hearsay.”

His father blinked and narrowed his eyes.

“Then do you have another plan? Because I’m unwilling to risk our veil of secrecy because
you’ve discovered a soft spot for the brainy mudblood.”

He withheld his correction of the slur, knowing it wouldn’t serve him.

“She can participate in the Midnight Hunt,” he explained. “Once bitten, she won’t be able to
betray us. She’ll have to obey her mate. It would ensure her silence.”

Goyle laughed, and his father’s glare deepened.

“If she was a halfblood, I would consider---”

“Imagine what we could accomplish in the ministry with her under our thumb. She’s best
friends with Potter. Connections with Kingsley. An Order of Merlin, first class. She’s no
ordinary muggleborn. She’s a war hero, and possibly the brightest witch I’ve ever known.
Not to mention, a marriage with Granger— a prominent muggleborn— would help clear our
name back to what it was before the war.”

Draco saw the moment his father realised the treasure they held. Realised the potential of
linking them.

“I suppose a halfblood grandchild wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He looked at Granger,

inspecting her like he would a new rug for the manor. “Malfoys have always made rare
exceptions for their brides. We could breed out the muggle from the bloodline in time. And as
you say, she’s quite powerful and intelligent. Capable of producing wandless magic.
Respected in the community, even if irritating. We could benefit from this arrangement, but
there’s one problem.” He swished his wand, eliminating the silencio. “For the magic to be
effective, the witch must enter the midnight hunt willingly. So you have a choice, mudblood.
You can decide to die, which I will accommodate without hesitation. We’ll do it as painlessly
as possible.” He clicked his cane hard again. “Or you can enter the hunt.”

“I’d rather die than marry your two-faced son,” she seethed, baring her teeth in a grimace that
almost mirrored a Lycan growl.

Granger might as well have hit him. Did she hate him that much? Didn’t she understand he
just wanted to save her?
Lucius gave a heavy sigh. “Gryffindors… always so stubborn.” He motioned toward the
Belgian. “Put her in the south cell—it’s more comfortable. We’ll allow her a few days to
come to terms with her fate and make a wiser decision.”

Draco allowed himself to take a breath as Goyle grabbed her arm. Much too tightly.

“Gently,” Draco growled.

The hold on her arm loosed, and Hermione gave him a look that he hadn’t seen on her since
their Hogwarts days— one filled with disgust, betrayal, and loathing. He avoided the guilt as
she was removed from the room.

“You need to eat,” Draco said the next day after opening her cell door.

She ignored him, staring at the faux window he’d charmed on her wall to make the cell more
homey. A bird swooped down into a rose garden next to a goblin statue. A stack of books
towered by her bed unread.

Since her capture, she’d left all the food on the plates to rot.

“You need your strength for the hunt.”

She gave a snort and crossed her arms. “I told you I’d rather die.”

Draco contemplated the situation. There wasn’t time to give her space to work through her
anger. She had a day to agree to his father’s terms.

Luckily, he knew her weakness. Even furious, Hermione was curious.

“If you eat this, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about Lycans.”

She was considering his proposal. He saw it in the way she froze, besides the gentle nibble of
her lower lip. Slowly, she reached out and accepted the plate of all her favourite foods,
placing it in her lap.

“You must have thought I was an idiot when I stormed into your office, asking you to
accompany me.” She took a small bite of the cottage pie and closed her eyes. “Of course, this
would be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Elf slave labour has its perks, I suppose.”

The sight of her consuming something he provided always made his skin tighten in need, an
old instinct. He let his tongue press on the sharp point of his canine, just barely extended with
hunger. The slight pain kept him focused.
“Eat all of it,” he demanded.

She seemed put out with his tone, but she obeyed him for the prospect of information. When
she’d drunk her tea, and her fork scraped the plate clean, he motioned for her to set it aside.

“Tell me what you know first, and then I’ll fill in the blanks.”

Hermione stared at him a moment, tilting her head in thought – as if she’d just realised he
was the monster she’d read about for so long. “All I know is that unlike werewolves, Lycans
are born genetically as such. They function in packs, descended from ancient bloodlines, and
they have a designated leader they call the Alpha. The hierarchy is essential. Researchers
suspect there’s some chemical or magical mental bond to ensure loyalty. Whether or not they
can produce magic is unknown, but they can be dangerous around a full moon.”

Draco gave a scoffing laugh, leaning against the cell bars. “Top marks, Granger. Do you want
to know the truth now?”

Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance. “I do.”

“You’re right about one thing,” he said. “We’re born as Lycans, not turned. And as you can
see, we’re capable of magic. We weren’t originally, which is why it’s important for us to mate
with witches. In fact, most of the old wizarding families are descended from Lycans, but not
all. We turn on the full moon, but we have agency in our transformation. Werewolves are
base creatures, completely feral, forgetting their humanity. Lycans feel the same hunger, but
we are cognizant the whole time.”

He straightened and stepped closer, drawn in by her scent, but stopped when she shivered.

“What’s the Midnight Hunt?”

“A sacred tradition. Lycans are expected to find their mates under the blood moon. Every
eligible male can attend the ceremony, but there are always fewer females in the running, so
not every Lycan will succeed. It’s very competitive and… bloody.”

“But I’m not a Lycan.”

“There are no female Lycans. It’s a paternal lineage and only shows up in males. We select
our potential mates carefully. Only the best are competing to keep our lineage strong.”

He took another step toward her. This time she stood up, pressing herself against the window.
He sensed her fear and felt an urgency to reassure her. She tried to lunge away as he stalked
toward her, but he grabbed her in a tight hold, turning her so her back pressed against him,
hand securing her upper chest, his other arm snaked around her waist.

“Let me go,” she seethed, breathing hard. She attempted to struggle away, but he pressed his
canines against the curve of her neck. She stilled, sensing the danger.

“What are you doing?”

“My version of foreplay,” he whispered, voice ragged. Having her so close might be a
mistake. Every instinct inside him wanted to bite down and claim. He finally let his tongue
flick out against the temptation that had been teasing him for years, tasting her flesh. She
made a soft noise, though he couldn’t tell if it was of pleasure or of fear. “Agree to the hunt,
Granger. Agree to be mine.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you that well.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Not enough for marriage. For Merlin's sake, I didn’t even know you were a Lycan. Would
there even be a possibility for divorce?”

“Once you submit to me, you’ll be mine forever. I do not share.”

She trembled under him, and he inhaled deeply, memorising her scent, imprinting her to his
brain, to help him find her in the hunt.

“I can’t—”

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Provide for you. Protect you. There’s no need to fear
this. You arrive at work every day exhausted and overworked. You’re burning out, and no
one’s paid attention to it except for me.”

“I won’t give up my career to be a little Malfoy housewife.”

He laughed, pulling back his teeth, allowing his lips to linger in a gentle kiss. He didn’t miss
the way she inhaled sharply. “What gave you the impression I’d ever want you to be stuck at
the manor? That would be like attempting to put a lion in a cage. Do what you wish, Granger.
Conquer the world, if you please. The only person you would ever need to submit to is me.”

She struggled again, but it was futile. “I’ll never submit to anyone, least of all you. I thought
you were my friend, but I was wrong. I won’t let you mate me and then push through your
father’s outdated policies. I won’t be some fucking tool to get closer to Harry or clear your
family name.”

Draco clamped his hand along her waist, pleased that the scent of fear was lessened, replaced
with a fierce anger that rolled off her in heady waves, making his instincts flare to dominate.
This was how he liked her best, poised on the edge of attack.

“They won’t be my father’s policies,” he whispered, allowing his hand to shift down,
cradling her lower stomach now. “Per tradition, once I take a mate, my father will step down
as acting Alpha, and I’ll assume the role, ruling over our extensive territories. The policies
will be ours, and I plan to spoil you rotten with any whim you want. Tell me, Granger,” he
dared to let his hand drop further down, and she betrayed herself with a whimper. “What laws
do you want to pass?”
“Protection for the centaurs. I want them to retain the forbidden forest.”

She said it like it was a test.

“Done.”

“What if I said I wanted to get rid of Roger from floor three?”

“He’d make a tasty dinner.”

“I don’t know if you’re joking.”

He playfully nipped her neck, not hard enough to break skin. “I’m not.”

“Ugh, don’t kill him, you prat.”

“Very well, then I’ll make sure he gets his termination letter in a fortnight.”

Though she still shivered, he didn’t miss the way she shifted, so her legs spread slightly.

“I don’t know if—”

“The house elves could be freed,” he whispered enticingly, letting his hand drop even lower,
hovering over the heat between her thighs. “Every pathetic creature on Earth could be saved
and given rights.”

He smelled it then— a flicker of arousal. Musky and slightly sweet. An addicting ambrosia.
His canines and claws extended at the same time.

“All of those things are wonderful, Malfoy, but I can’t marry a man that doesn’t like me.”

“Like you?” he growled. “Every day that you walk into my office in your scandalous muggle
skirt, I want to rip it away with my teeth. You were always in danger of getting pinned to my
desk while I fucked you until you listened to reason.”

Unable to stop the temptation, he dared to touch her, pressing his fingers firmly against her
scorching cunt. He felt her dripping wet through the fabric. Smelled it in the air. She couldn’t
lie to him about wanting him too.

“Will your father really kill me if I don’t participate?”

The thought had his Lycan bristle to the surface. “He would try.”

“Is there any way out of this?”

“Most witches that are participating want to be caught. But in the past, for those witches that
were coerced into the hunt, any who crossed the boundaries into another Lycan territory were
free to choose a mate.”

“How many have made it?”

“None.”

He didn’t move his fingers, just pressed firmly, teasing with pressure. She leaned her head
back against his shoulder, breathing heavily. “Very well, I’ll participate.”

Ignoring every instinct in his body, Draco released her, allowing her to go sit on the edge of
the bed.

“You said there were other participants, and that it was competitive. What if another Lycan
gets to me first?”

“They won’t,” he promised. “Tomorrow, under the blood moon, my teeth will mark your
neck as mine. And anyone who gets in my way will be torn apart.”

Draco left a stunned Granger in her cell, knowing she’d fall asleep soon, because he’d spiked
her tea with dreamless sleep.
 Teeth
Chapter Notes

Song Suggestion: 8 Graves- "Teeth"

Thank you to the most awesome beta in the world, MyPrivateInsanity!

Look at the tags for the Trigger Warnings.

Teeth

The Blood Moon burned next to the stars, so heavy and round Draco imagined he could reach
up and roll it across the night sky like a ball to a net. Beneath its seductive glow, the Lycan
bristled under his skin, begging to be released.

He struggled to keep the beast suppressed as he stood at the tree line of the Savernake forest
— a protected plot of land preserving the ancient trees, untouched and cordoned off from
muggles.

Withstanding the temptation of turning was the first test of the night. If he fulfilled the
transformation now, as his instincts dictated, he'd be disqualified from the hunt.

Others around him displayed less restraint, already halfway Lycan: teeth extracted, snout
elongated, claws sharpened, fur sprouting along their exposed skin. An irregular mishmash of
wolf and humanoid features.

The half-formed creature next to him slobbered in eagerness, and Draco sneered in contempt
at the untamed animal. Some Lycans were barely better than werewolves. His father always
disdained the primal packs, believing wizards should control the beast inside them, lest the
beast control the wizard.

Draco shed his ceremonial robes. The chilly air nipped at his bare skin, pale even under the
orange haze.

"I heard a famous war hero will be participating,” a man said in French to his right.

Draco didn't even turn to acknowledge Felix Millefeuille— the heir to a pack controlling a
vast swath of land in Northern France. “I’m failing to understand your point, or why I'd care
in the first place.”

“Ah, I see we’re playing ignorant today.” Felix pushed back the dark strands of his hair in a
pompous way and gave a mocking laugh. “Your father’s always impressed me with his
political schemes. Potter’s best friend on your leash would be an advantage in many
wizarding spaces. From my own investigation, she’s rather beautiful, too, in a… savage way.
A delectable catch. Normally, I’m against interbreeding with the lower castes, but with
Hermione Granger in the running, I find myself eager to discover if muggleborns are as filthy
in the bedroom as they are out of it. Fucking her would be nearly deviant."

Draco curled his claws into his palm until the prick of pain helped refocus him. He erased the
conjured image of Felix touching Granger before he exploded in rage.

Despite them being distant cousins, there was no love lost between them. While his father
had been incarcerated in Azkaban, the Millefeuille pack proved to be a thorn in his side,
attempting to edge into his territory several times, only stopping when he threatened war.

He didn’t take Felix’s threat lightly. Out of all the Lycans in attendance, he might be the most
dangerous, matching Draco in strength and intelligence, and with a famous vicious streak.

Felix wouldn’t waste this night— the only time he could legally kill a Malfoy heir within the
parameters of Lycan law without repercussions. Even better if he stole his prospective mate.

Draco grit his teeth, but his claws still grew longer, pressing harder into his skin. “I've never
lowered myself enough to fuck a mudblood. You can tell me how it feels later, yeah? I’ll be
chasing someone far more appropriate.”

"Stop pretending. I already know you're going after the muggleborn, keeping her captive in
your manor. I only stopped by to promise that you won’t get to her first.”

Draco’s mouth flooded with saliva as his canines pressed down. He imagined the taste of
flesh, blood trickling down his throat, craving the promise of violence.

There were several blood moon ceremonies across the world. Under pack law, a mature
Lycan could enter any he wished. Felix only participated in the Wiltshire Midnight Hunt with
the intent to kill and embarrass his long-standing rivals.

The chosen Malfoy witch had always been a desirable coup. Draco had planned to pretend
disinterest to protect Granger, but the information had already leaked.

“I could give you the trite line that I’ll kill you if you touch her,” Draco’s voice was cold.
“While that’s true, Granger’s not easy prey, and she might kill you before I can.”

Not everyone knew about Hermione’s wandless magic. While it wasn’t the most powerful
he’d encountered, it would prove formidable in the forest paired with her intelligence. Even
he’d need to be careful obtaining her. Out in the wild, free of obsidian, stripped to her barest
nature, she’d be allowed to retaliate as she saw fit.

If a Lycan was unable to tame a witch, then he didn’t deserve her submission.

“I hope she’s as fierce as you say. My offspring will be stronger with a bit of fight.” Felix
gave a nod of his head, accepting the challenge, and walked away.
Theo and Blaise soon replaced the Millefeuille heir, standing by his side. Draco refused to
look at either of them, controlling his breaths with careful pants, knowing he was seconds
from bursting into his Lycan form just to tear Felix’s head from his neck.

“What did that fucker want?” Blaise asked.

“Granger.”

“Ah,” Theo said. “I really thought he was gay.”

“No.”

“Shame.”

Draco slid his eyes to him in annoyance.

“He’s the bane of my existence.”

“Which is just my type, really.”

The reason Theo participated wasn’t very clear. Though eligible to compete in the hunt, Nott
held no desire to mate or change the hierarchy. By all accounts, he only participated for the
fun of it.

Blaise rolled his eyes at Theo, preparing himself by sliding off his robe. Unlike Theo, he had
a similar mission as Draco tonight. Recently, he’d proposed to Astoria Greengrass, but her
father rejected the suit, hoping for a Malfoy alliance. Tonight might be the only chance to
mate the girl he loved.

The stakes remained high for the both of them.

The casual conversation with his best friends helped clear Draco’s mind, and his Lycan
obeyed the temporary subjugation, but only because they needed the same things—teeth in a
soft neck, cock wet and buried deep in a warm cunt, claiming his mate in a permanent way.

Earlier in the evening, the wives of the Lycan members, including his mother, had bathed the
prospective witches with scentless soap and clad them in plain white dresses. Then they
brought the women to the forest and released them, instructing them to run and hide.

Draco settled before the faint trail she’d left, waiting for his father’s orders to begin, fully
intending to kill Felix Millefeuille and then plant the next Malfoy heir inside Granger.

The drums began. The chants in ancient Brittonic. The magic in the air shimmered and
hummed around them.

“Midnight has arrived,” his father finally said. “Begin your transformation.”

Draco obeyed the command with relief. The painful process always started in his hands. The
prickle of fur erupting, the bones hardening and lengthening, cracking and popping.
Standing in a straight line, all thirty of the Lycans participating did the same, some more feral
than others. Their final form appeared humanoid in nature, standing upright, a perfect
merging of man and beast.

Draco snarled, relishing in his final form, the way the red moon caressed his pale fur,
awakening dormant traits. He gave a long sniff and crouched low, ready to spring forward
into the night. He forgot everything else, vision tunnelling to his mate’s scent.

In this form, she smelled of a rose in bloom. Something he planned to pluck and steal away
for himself. Something he wished to bury his nose into and gently bite.

The trail was fainter than he thought it would be. Draco wasn’t sure what that meant—
whether she managed to run further than he thought, or something else. But he planned to
find out soon.

His claws dug into the soil below, and when the drums and chanting ceased, resulting in an
unnatural quiet, his father fired a flicker of sparks in the air.

Draco shot forward into the darkness.

Draco stalked through the woods, sometimes running on all fours like a wolf, bounding along
the subtle path Granger had left. She’d zigzagged, leading him in circles that overlapped. He
grinned at the realisation, pleased she already presented a challenge, navigating the maze
toward his prize, moving so silently that human ears couldn’t detect him.

But the simple deviation wasn’t enough to stump him, and he soon found her location,
withholding a howl when he caught sight of her through the spectre of tree limbs.

His body readied, tense like a bow strong, prepared to spring forward from the dark shadows,
mouth salivating to make her his.

But his human side pulled back in curiosity. Still hiding behind the available bushes, he
silently watched his prey as she dipped her hand into the earth, smearing the damp soil
against her skin.

“Clever girl,” he whispered.

Hermione had covered all her available skin in a thin layer of soil, attempting to camouflage
her natural scent. Her white dress—normally a beacon under the moon— had been
transformed into pitch black using wandless magic.

Her strategy to hide might have worked if he hadn’t been so attuned to her.

In fascination, Draco watched as Hermione spun a leaf, using a compass spell. After several
wobbling turns, the stem paused midair, pointing north west— the direction of the closest
territory boundary. Satisfied with the direction, she dropped the leaf and continued her
journey.
He followed, impressed at her ingenuity, and intrigued on what she’d do next. She marched
along, only stopping to bend down, picking up a straight branch, testing it for strength.
Finding it in good condition, she used her limited magic to shave away the end into a lethal
point.

A weapon.

The witches couldn’t enter the forest with one, but there were technically no rules about
creating it.

Draco smirked at the measly stake, finding it adorable how she thought it would harm a
Lycan at full strength.

He debated if he should step out now and announce his presence, but he enjoyed watching
her work through problems. Pride seared through him, seeing her clutching her little weapon
so fiercely.

As if sensing him studying her, she paused, scanning the tree line, passing him by.
Eventually, she shook her head and began to walk again, weaving between the trees.

Draco kept pace behind her.

Several minutes later, Hermione stopped with a gasp, undeniably excited. She bent down and
inspected the base of an old oak tree, and he tilted his head, both wary and impressed at what
she’d found.

Honey Fungus— one of the only things that could kill him. A mushroom mildly poisonous to
humans, yet deadly to his species. The white growth between the bark and the wood worked
as a neurotoxin for Lycans, inducing seizures, paralysis, and death in quick succession. It
grew wild all around the forest. His father liked to joke that he kept his enemies close at
hand.

Muggles carried around silver and garlic, clutching their pathetic religious symbols for
protection. Even most wizards believed the lie that it helped. But besides the honey fungus,
nothing proved fatal.

Granger knew more about their species than he first thought.

She dug out the white growth and smeared it on the tips of the oak stake she’d created,
turning it into a projectile capable of killing a Lycan—or at least, incapacitating one for a
time.

Did she plan to use the fungus on him? The thought made his Lycan oddly bristle in
excitement, knowing his warning to Felix proved true.

Draco couldn’t let her journey much longer. Granger was formidable, but her senses
remained painfully human: limited eyesight in the dark, unable to smell the predators stalking
her, small and vulnerable, nearly naked. At any moment another Lycan could find her and
challenge him.

If he’d been a better man, he’d help her all the way toward the border, and allow her a
choice.

But he wasn't a better man or even a human man, and he wanted her for himself. The thought
of taking any other witch as his mate was abhorrent.

The conflicting emotions warred inside him. Perhaps he could—

A scream ripped through the air.

His head snapped to the right, fur raising on end.

He recognized the voice, and after a deep sniff, he confirmed his suspicion, scenting Astoria
Greengrass.

The scream had been primal. Wrong. If Blaise had captured her first, there wouldn’t have
even been a whimper— which meant another Lycan found her.

Draco hesitated, unwilling to leave Granger alone, but he’d never be able to forgive himself if
Astoria ended up bonded to someone other than his best friend.

And she sounded so close.

Giving a low growl of frustration, Draco left his post and ran the opposite direction, dodging
around trees and leaping over fallen branches.

In less than a minute, he found Astoria. One of the Lycans from the French pack had her
pressed to a tree, tears tracking down her face, his teeth close to her neck, seconds from
completing the mating mark.

Draco lunged from the shadows without hesitation and caught the unsuspecting Lycan right
under his chin with his open jaw. He sunk his teeth down, relishing the way the flesh gave
way. For just a second, the metal taste of blood trickled down his throat, before he savagely
ripped backward, tearing out his oesophagus. A kill bite, just like his father taught him to do.
He didn’t stop his attack until the Lycan was strewn about the foliage in several pieces.
Crimson fertilised the soil, a gift to the old gods of the forest.

His enemy now thoroughly dead, he recaged the beast snarling under his skin with great
effort, wishing he could continue. He panted, still seeing red. If he’d let the violence inside
him take over any longer, the blood lust would be endless.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed, the words sounded garbled in his Lycan form. Astoria trembled
and sank to the ground beside the severed head, putting her face in her hands. She’d always
been soft and gentle. Not a fierce bone in her body. This would traumatise her. Regaining his
human soul, he dragged his old friend up into a comforting hug, as she wept against his
shoulder. “Why aren’t you in the place Blaise told you to wait for him?”
“I tried,” she sniffled, pulling back to show red, puffy eyes. “But that Lycan cornered me
first. I thought he’d bite me, but he only taunted me, telling me to run. It felt like he was
herding me.”

“Let’s get you to—”

“Astoria!” Blaise roared, dark fur blending in with the trees as he burst into view, hurtling to
a stop, glancing around at the butchery.

Astoria tore herself from his grasp, running toward her mate. They collided, and he clutched
her close, holding her shivering body against his expanded chest, trying to soothe her. “I’m
here, Stori. You’re safe.”

They continued comforting each other, but Draco zoned them out, eyes stuck to a fallen limb,
tracing the leaves speckled with blood, turning over the conversation in his mind.

Something Astoria said seemed off. Out of place. But he couldn’t—

Another growl ripped from him. He didn’t wait to explain his panicked thoughts to his
friends. He tore into the foliage, scrambling on all fours, bounding back into the dark.

Astoria had said the French wolf had been herding her, leading her to an intentional
destination. As if the chase had been planned.

Or ordered.

What were the odds that she’d been close enough to draw Draco away?

A terrible realisation hit him:

Astoria had been a distraction.

Draco smelled her fear before he saw her. Acrid and bitter on his tongue, more potent than
he’d ever scented it before. He flew across the landscape, so fast he’d be a blur to others. An
average human would have to be careful running in the dark, avoiding tripping over fallen
logs or raised roots, snagging their clothing or skin against the brush. But Lycans were made
for the night. His vision sharpened, senses exploding, leading him right to Granger.

When he stumbled into the clearing, Granger was backed into a tree with Theo crouched near
her legs, baring his teeth in warning at Felix. His friend’s shoulder displayed an ugly wound,
and it looked as if his leg might be injured, yet Theo still bravely faced his potential death,
protecting Hermione.

The only thing stopping a deadly battle was the hazy blue shimmer of a protego Granger had
conjured. The spell would repel a Lycan, but not for long. Her magic already began to fail,
white cracks forming in the spell, fraying at the edges. She was a powerful witch, but even
she had limits to her ability.

Felix waited patiently just outside the blue shimmer.

“Get away from me,” Hermione demanded, raising the poisoned stake in her hand

“There’s no need to be afraid, Ma chérie. Come into my arms peacefully, and I promise not to
kill your loyal dog— as long as he retracts his teeth and shows me proper respect.”

“One more step, and I’ll kill you.”

Felix eyed the stick in amusement. “That could be my toothpick, precious. It would sting like
a bug bite.”

If Theo hadn’t been there to stop him, or Granger had failed to produce a protego, Felix
might have already claimed her violently, taking her against her will under the moon.

The thought ripped a roar of rage from Draco’s throat, chest vibrating— an official challenge,
alpha to alpha. A flock of birds lifted from nearby trees with the sound.

Violent impulses took over his human side. He’d eat his rival's insides. Drink his blood.
Shatter his bones. And after he consumed his fill, he’d leave the rest for the scavengers of the
forest.

The hair along Felix’s back raised in answer to the summons, twisting toward the threat,
prowling toward him on all fours. Draco adopted the stance of war, prepared to fight to the
death. Felix would have to step over his corpse to claim Granger.

Theo remained near his future wife, protecting her like a loyal pack mate, unable to interfere
in an alpha’s challenge. If Draco lost this fight, his friend would either have to submit to the
victor or die, but he wouldn’t let it get to that point.

Felix lunged first, teeth aimed for his throat. Draco anticipated the move, dodging around the
attack. The bite connected with his side instead, but he barely felt the wound. There was a
flurry of ferocious growls, shredding claws, and splattering blood as they mauled each other,
gnashing their teeth for any available flesh.

But it didn’t last long.

Felix wasn't just fighting an evenly matched Lycan in pursuit of a defenceless mate.

He was also fighting Hermione Granger.

The only warning was a bark from Theo, and Hermione’s panicked shout of his name.

Just as Draco ravaged Felix’s right clawed hand, intending to sever it, Hermione dropped the
protego and shot the poisoned sharpened stake forward with a crack of magic. It might have
missed, but Draco yanked Felix forward with his teeth to just the right position, lodging the
sharpened stick into the side of the French Alpha’s throat.

A shallow wound, comparable to a needle prick, but it was enough.

Felix stumbled back and ripped the stake out with a growl. Lycan's healed faster than normal,
and Draco observed the wound already beginning to stitch under the light of the moon,
sealing in the toxin.

"I'd planned to be gentle with the bitch,” he growled. “But now I’ll enjoy her screams.”

Draco stood slowly, mouth bloody, crimson dripping from his sharp claws, flesh and dirt
congealed along his fur.

It wasn’t necessary to battle; the damage was done.

“How are you feeling?” Draco taunted.

Felix glanced in confusion at Draco’s lack of fight, at his smug expression. A suspicious
transformation from aggression to amusement. He took one step, as if to resume where they’d
let off, and then he stumbled again— this time from the effects of the poison filtering through
his system. The French alpha clutched his neck again, eyes widening, experiencing the first
signs.

“What have you done?” He growled at his mate.

“My research!” Granger accioed the stake back into her hands and raised it in threat.
“Everything has to have a weakness, and this is yours.”

Felix crashed into the forest floor like a felled tree before he could respond. Without an
antidote, it didn't take him long to die, deteriorating rapidly. He writhed and convulsed as
they watched. Draco captured every detail in his memory— the howls of agony, the slobber
drooling out of his mouth with every gasp. He mentally documented the pathetic death,
planning to send the memory back to the Millefeuille pack to mock them.

Their heir hadn't been killed in warfare or competition with another alpha, but by a mere
human woman who looked frail enough to snap in half. Embarrassment would be a mild term
to use.

Making sure he was dead, Theo walked over and kicked Felix’s side.

No response.

“I hate to admit you’re right,” Theo grimaced. “But I really need to reevaluate my taste in
men.”

“I’ve told you this.”

“I’m basically a bull chasing after the red flags.” He glanced at Granger and wiggled his
eyebrows. “Ah, all's well that ends well. Now that she’s safe, I’m going to try and pretend to
be a maiden wandering the woods. Maybe one of the beastly ones will be confused and moon
crazed enough to have a good night.”

“Get out of here,” Draco answered softly.

He didn’t need to say thank you. Theo wouldn’t accept it anyway. They were brothers and
would always sacrifice for each other. But Draco nodded at him in recognition, and in return,
Theo gave a playful salute, prancing back into the forest, his wounds already healing.

Granger's sobs paused his amusement.

She huddled against a tree, clutching her stomach, expression morphed into horror, eyes on
the dead Lycan. Perhaps she was disturbed about taking part in Felix's demise. Perhaps she
was still rattled by how close she came to the jaws of a strange beast. It didn't matter the
reason— his mate was in distress, and Draco's instincts flared.

When he walked toward her, she tried to half-heartedly stab him mid-sob with the stake, but
he only scoffed, grabbed the stick, cracked it in half, and flung it to the side.

Without a weapon, she didn’t fight his embrace, shivering against his chest, much like
Astoria had done with Blaise. He rumbled out a low growl meant to comfort her— the same
guttural sound his father used when he’d been young and upset.

"Tell me he was a bad person," she pleaded.

"He was a very bad person."

Rubbing her nose with her wrist, she smeared a line of dirt on her face, and then untangled
herself from his hold.

"Okay," she whispered, as if trying to mentally accept the brutal entry into his world of death
and violence.

"Are you hurt?" He made a visual sweep of her person, cataloguing every scrape and bruise.
He wished to examine more thoroughly, but resisted touching her so as not to spook her.

“I’m fine.” She backed away from him, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Are you frightened of my appearance?"

She shook her head. "I thought I would be, but you still resemble yourself." She reached out a
hand, as if to stroke his pale fur in a curious trance. He held still, inviting the touch, but she
dropped her arm before contact. Not willing to break the spell, he snagged her hand on its
descent and brought it up to his sharp teeth.

"I won't hurt you." He placed the hand just inside his mouth as demonstration, and let his
tongue gently touch the pads of her fingers. "I'm in control.”

“I believe you,” she whispered.

The taste of her skin teased him, so soft and appetising, pressed against the unforgiving
contours of his teeth. She shivered again, but her fear had diminished.

“Let me go,” she said.

“No.” But he dropped her hand on command. She clutched it to her chest, rubbing the fingers
that had been licked. “The border is too far away. You won’t make it.”
“I know the direction.”

He remembered the leaf spinning in the wind, pointing north west, though he didn't need a
compass to determine their location. He'd spent much of his youth running through these
woods on full moons. He knew every branch and tree and bush around him as intimately as
brothers.

“It would take you an entire day to walk. The course was designed to fail. Stop being
stubborn for once.”

“But—”

“Even if you make it to the border, you won’t escape the mating bond. You’d still have to
choose. You're trapped in this lifestyle now. The only difference will be with whom.” The
thought of her being with another Lycan was intolerable. “Let me take that burden from your
shoulders. There’s no need to agonise over the decision, because I’ve already made it. Allow
me to bond with you, Granger.”

Now that her body understood she was safe, her scent morphed into the burnt smell of
lightning, roses in bloom, mixed with bloodshed. So close to prey, his cock hardened in
anticipation. He wished she understood the effort to contain the animal inside him.

She seemed to be thinking, wrinkling her nose, determining her fate.

"Were you honest about all the things you plan to give me?"

"I’d give you an unbreakable vow if you need it."

She shook her head and wet her bottom lip with a quick swipe of pink tongue. "No, that’s too
extreme." He sensed the rushing blood to her cheeks, even in the dark. "Were you honest
about being— well, about finding me attractive?"

He laughed, and it came out like a low growl.

"What do you think?"

She glanced down on instinct, eyes sticking to his erect cock. It was hard not to notice it,
larger than an average human’s.

"Oh," she said simply, eyes wide.

"I’m not just attracted to you, Granger. I hunger for you."

Her arousal spiked, ambrosia poisoning the air, almost causing him to lose his tight control.
How he still held back he didn't know. Only the instinct to soothe his intended mate quelled
it.

“Will I get pregnant tonight?”

“I’ll give it my best try.”

Another spike of arousal, more intense than the first.

She could lie to him all she wanted, but the thought of getting fucked and bred on a forest
floor under the blood moon appealed to her primal nature too.

“I—” she wet her lips again with her pink tongue. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Kingsley never assigned you to my cases.” She took a step backward, face flushed brighter.
“It was me who put in the requests.”

He’d smirk if he could. “Why?”

“Are you going to make me say it?”

“Of course I am.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You know you’re attractive, you conceited wanker. I had a
few moments of weakness.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “Did you have daydreams of ravaging me near the trolls?”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I even told you—”

“Calm, Granger. I’ve always known you were attracted to me.”

She uncrossed her arms. “How could you possibly know that?”

He paused, giving a show of looking her up and down, allowing his claws to extend to their
fullest length. And with one careful swipe, he snagged the neckline of her dress, ripping it
down the middle, leaving her exposed to him. Hermione gasped, but didn’t move to cover
herself

The lovely shape of her enticed him to trace the curves. The dusky, stiff nipples that begged
him to suck and nip. Her cunt— hidden between pressed thighs— sweet and wet.

She’d made it torture to work around her, strutting toward him in her tight muggle clothes,
desire seeping off her in waves of temptation.

“The same way I sense your desire right now.” It was his turn to lick his lips. “And I’m
finished with denying myself. So go ahead and run. I admit I like the chase. I’ll even give
you a head start. When I catch you— and I will catch you—I’ll allow you to satiate your
curiosity and study my Lycan form as intimately as you’d like. Isn’t that what you were after
in the first place?”

“But—”

“Run!”
She paused only a second longer, before doing as he asked, escaping into the dark woods,
leaving the fragments of her dress behind.

He hunted her without constraints, allowing his instincts to take over, only losing her scent
trail once. Hovering at the edge of a small creek, he lowered himself to the ground,
discovering she’d jumped inside it, rinsing the blood, sweat, and grime from her skin.

Did she think that would deter him? Did she think he hadn't memorised her long ago?

He stepped into the chilly water, blood drifting away with the current as he scrubbed away
the lingering remnants of death. No part of Felix would ever touch his mate, not even his
blood.

Once clean, he sniffed the air, until he found where she’d exited further down the stream, still
heading toward the boundary.

She wouldn't make it. Human legs could only carry her so far and fast.

He bounded across the land in pursuit of his prize, slowing when he noticed her bushy hair
weaving in and out of the trees ahead.

She knew he was close. He sensed her heart increase, a muted fear, akin to excitement.

He planned to let her think she stood a chance for a few minutes longer, but she made a vital
mistake. Human eyes failed her, missing a raised root in the dark. Her foot snagged, sending
her tumbling forward.

Not wasting time, she attempted to crawl along the dirt forest floor.

But it was too late. He lunged forward, snatched her ankle, and dragged her toward him. She
yelped and struggled, but it only left her bare arse in the air, displaying her wet cunt. The
smell of her exposed arousal raced through his veins like a muggle drug, straight to his brain.

His humanity sloughed away, the Lycan in control, and it wanted to taste her from the
source.

“Perhaps we should—”

A warning growl erupted from his chest, ordering her to stay still as held her hips steady and
buried his nose into her cunt from behind, giving a firm lick up. The taste of her exploded on
his tongue, heady and vibrant, much better than he ever imagined.

“Draco,” she cried. Whether it was a warning or a plea didn’t matter to the beast. It only
wanted more, tongue stroking her until she ceased her fake resistance.

When she finally let her legs widen in welcome, he grabbed his cock as he feasted, relieving
his own agony as she shivered against him, growing more frantic the longer and slower he
licked. When he dipped inside her, she reverted to her own animal instincts, rolling her hips
against his face for extra sensation.
"This is wrong," Hermione moaned, but she kept going, still on her knees, chest pressed to
the Earth, fucking herself against his tongue. "You're not even truly human. I shouldn't be
doing this with you while you’re like this."

“Stop talking.” He continued the torment until she silenced again, unable to speak as she
spasmed against his mouth with a cry, soft flesh against sharp teeth.

He devoured her pleasure. Normal food tasted of ash, but Granger's cunt sparked with layered
delicious flavours. He could eat from the source all night and never get full. In fact, he
refused to stop his punishing pace until she went lax, collapsing against the Earth.

He let go of her and allowed her to recover, panting against the ground, until the call of
instinct became too strong to resist. He pulled her up on her knees, pressed against his back.
One hand cinched around her lower stomach, holding her against him like he had in the cell,
except this time they were both naked and on their knees.

After gently brushing her wild curls to the side, he trailed his teeth down the side of her neck,
resting his canines against the curve near her shoulder. He'd be sure not to bite too hard, just
enough to inject her with their venom. The mating bond would chemically tie her to him
forever, changing her genetic makeup, so she could carry his child to term. It would grant her
several Lycan traits including sharper senses, a high body temperature, and a craving for raw
meat near a full moon.

"Will it hurt?" she asked.

"At first."

She stayed tense, a small spark of fear to her. Draco indulged his human side, attempting to
calm her while stroking the body he’d craved so long. He savoured the moment, being
careful of his claws. The flesh of her curves gave way under his hands, breasts supple and
soft as he rolled the nipples under his thumbs, until he smelled her desire again.

He sensed the moment Granger completely submitted to him. Her whole body loosened in his
arms as he kept her upright, his cock resting against her back. She tilted her head to the side,
giving easy access.

It was time.

Grabbing both her hips, he raised her just enough to hover above him, guiding her slowly
down, sliding just the tip inside.

“You won’t fit,” she said, stopping him with a hand to his thigh.

“I will,” he promised. “Watch.”

She obeyed, looking down to view his cock disappear another inch into her. He let gravity do
most of the work, slowly sinking down, only stopping to adjust, pulling up, going down. But
she’d been properly prepared when he’d started, so it didn’t take long for her to take his
entire length.
Exquisite torture. A blinding pleasure. He groaned along with her, finally feeling her from the
inside, somehow both deliciously soft and painfully tight.

Once fully seated inside, he prevented her from moving, afraid he’d cum if she did, her
warmth wrapped snugly around him.

"I’m going to keep your cunt this wet, stretched, and filled forever. You'll never be empty."

She began to move in response to his promise, attempting to fuck herself on his cock in a
fevered state, but he denied her, keeping her hips firmly in place, knowing he had to complete
the bond first.

Without letting her overthink or regain her fear, he honoured his instinct, teeth puncturing her
neck, biting down until she cried.

“Stop,” she begged, attempting to struggle away, but he refused her plea, pressing down
further so the venom could enter her system. “It burns.”

With one hand on her breast, he thrust up, trying to get her mind off the pain and she gasped,
letting her head rest on his shoulder.

He didn't have to wait for long for the venom to work. Her nipples hardened further under his
fingers—the first sign. The hair along her arms raised as if answering the call of the moon.

"What's happening?"

He detached his teeth, leaving a bloody wound.

"Your senses are already becoming stronger." He stoked along her curves, knowing the
sensation of touch had become amplified. "Are you beginning to ache?” he teased, knowing
the fire in her veins was probably unbearable.

“Yes.”

“Let me soothe it.” He stroked her clit while he pulled out and buried himself again. Both of
them groaned again in desperation, nerves tight with the new sensations.

He’d planned to go gently, but his cock ached too. The remnant of her taste lingering in his
mouth, while hard and throbbing inside her, was too much to resist. Agonising pleasure shot
down his veins, and he was no longer in control.

Shoving her forward, she caught the fall with her hand, and he gave a violent thrust. He
grabbed the hair at the base of her skull, and began to fuck her like a beast, only stopping to
twist her into different contortions to suit his needs. As the venom infected her, she
succumbed to the moon along with him, digging her fingernails into his fur, biting to mark.

Draco discovered he liked her best on her knees, both of them animals, chest pressed to the
Earth, folded to get as deep as possible. It gave him a perfect view of her wet cunt taking him
whole, the heart shape of her arse, claws leaving red welts down her back.
He lost all sense of space and time, fucking her until she clenched along his cock, over and
over again.

By the time he released inside her with a growl, canines once again buried deep in her neck,
she was a sweaty, dirty, whimpering mess, the aftermath of her orgasm heightened by his
venom and the moonlight.

A deep calm overtook his Lycan form, the pleasure lingering. He held her reverently,
extracting his teeth, licking the raw wound to stop the bleeding, knowing it would leave a
shiny scar.

The sight of Granger pleased him: naked and used and sleepy, curled against his chest, his
cum dripping down her thighs, mating bite fresh and raw on her neck. He stroked a hand
along her lower stomach, already imagining filling it with his child.

She was his now. Forever.

Overcome by raw instinct, Draco lifted his head in worship of the night and howled his
victory to the blood moon.
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