1,501A/N: Shout out to mytripedskirt for reviewing every chapter recently and prompting me to wrangle a little chapter for this one. It's a bit short, but the fluffiness and the acceptance felt important to me. I hope you like it.
xx-Kitten.
Witch Hunting
By Kittenshift17
Chapter Fifteen
The next time Thorfinn woke, it was to the sound of pained whimpers emitting from the witch curled against his side. Blinking blearily, he tried to make sense of where he was, his eyes trailing over the stuffed animals lined up on the windowsill all seeming to silently judge him for his intrusion in their sanctuary, before they fell to the writhing young woman beside him.
"Oi," he said quietly. "Come on, Princess. Shhhh, there's no need for that. Shhhh."
He smoothed his hands up and down her back comfortingly, offering what little solace he could but not daring to actually wake her up.
"Come on, love. You're alright. I'm here," he said when she whined again, still deeply asleep, it seemed.
Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes darted back and forth wildly, clearly caught in some kind of nightmare and Thorfinn frowned, wondering what plagued his witch's mind so violently.
"Hermione," he called, shaking her shoulder gently. "Hermione, wake up, sweetheart."
She gasped as she woke, her eyes flying open and fixing on him in terror for a long moment.
"You alright, Princess?" Thorfinn frowned. "You were having a nightmare, love. Just a nightmare. You're safe."
She shook her head quickly, sitting up and clutching the covers to her chest as though to hide from his view. Thorfinn frowned, sitting up too and putting his hand on the middle of her bared back when she drew her knees up to her chest and pressed her forehead to them, breathing heavily like she might lose control. Thorfinn frowned worriedly, rubbing soft circles over her back and trying to comfort her, though it was far from his forte.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after they sat in silence for several long minutes, listening to her slowly getting control of her rapid breathing.
"We died," she breathed into her knees. "During the battle. We died, but we had a daughter and she was there, and she watched us die…"
Thorfinn's heart constricted inside his chest and he frowned as he watched her trying to control herself. The very thought unsettled him more than he'd like and Thorfinn knew that no matter how much he despised having a Soul Match at all, and despised even more that it was this pain-in-the-arse witch who'd been driving him spare since well before she had any right to, he didn't want to lose her.
He didn't want to die, either.
"Don't suppose there's any Seer blood in your family?" he asked, not thinking.
She snorted, turning her head on her knees to reveal that her eyes were wet.
"I'm muggleborn," she reminded him quietly and Thorfinn could've slapped himself on the forehead.
Of course she was, and as such, she had no idea what kind of magical abilities might be specific to her bloodline. Depending on who you asked, she was the first of a new strain of magic blood within the magical world, or alternatively, a terribly thin link to a very old one.
"Right," Thorfinn muttered. "Forgot."
She wrinkled her brow at him and Thorfinn could tell she was trying to figure out if he was being serious that he really had managed to forget, despite his own ingrained blood prejudices, or if he was just saying so to make her trust him. He wondered if there would ever come a day when she might look at him without searching for some ulterior motive behind his every action and every word. He hoped he would live to see it, though if she had any prophetic abilities, they might be well and truly buggered. Then again, they hardly had a daughter and weren't likely to manage one in the next couple of days before the battle.
"A daughter, you said?" he asked when she didn't say anything, just continued to peer at him like she wasn't sure what to make of him.
"Mmmm," Hermione hummed quietly. "She had your coloring and my nose."
"And she was watching us die?" Thorfinn frowned.
"Yes," Hermione said quietly, look pensive. "I'm sorry I woke you."
Thorfinn shook his head.
"It's fine, Princess," he assured her. "Rather you wake me with your tossing and turning, than to see you keep suffering in a nightmare. Better to be woken by a nightmare than to wake up and find you gone, you know?"
"You're never going to let that go, are you?" she asked, looking indulgent and exasperated at the same time.
"You ditched me the morning after you married me," he pointed out. "No way I'm letting that one go. In fact, feel free to start trying to make it up to me."
"You're dreaming," she rolled her eyes. "And we weren't willingly married. It hardly even counts. We had kinky sex in the woods. I never agreed to marry you."
"Bullshit," he said. "You wanted it as much as I did."
"Wanting sex and wanting to be bound in holy matrimony are two very different things, Rowle," she reminded him.
"Not on a Witch Hunt night, they're not," he replied. "You're my lawfully wedded wife and you will be until the day you die."
"With luck, that will be soon," she retorted coolly.
"Don't even say it," Thorfinn growled. "That's not funny, Princess. Just got you back. I don't want to lose you."
"Whatever," Hermione huffed, flopping back down on the mattress. "If we die, we die."
"Tell that to the tears you're crying at the thought of never getting to meet our daughter," Thorfinn answered snidely, curling his arm around her midriff and tucking her body back against his.
"Shut up," Hermione said.
Thorfinn emitted a low chuckle as he nuzzled his face into the side of her neck.
"Want to get started on conceiving her?" he asked huskily.
Hermione hummed, tilting her head to give him better access as he trailed wet, soft kisses over her throat and across her shoulder. She rolled her hips against the growing lead pipe poking at her bottom, encouraging him to thrust his hips against her, reminding her of their nudity. God, would there ever be a day when this intensity between them lessened? Already, at just the suggestion, she wanted him again.
"That feels good," Hermione told him, rolling her hips again when he nipped her shoulder lightly before kissing away the sting.
"God, I need to be inside you, Princess," Thorfinn muttered against her skin.
"So do it," she said, canting her hips and reaching between her legs to take him in hand.
He drew in a sharp breath, letting her guide him to her entrance before he pushed home, sinking himself inside of her and making Hermione's breath catch inside her chest.
"Mmmm," she hummed contentedly at the feel of him so deep inside her. There was nothing like it. She couldn't explain it. It didn't just feel like regular sex to have him inside her. This felt different. More, somehow.
She blamed the Soul Match between them, but it did really feel like he'd been made just for her.
"Fuck," Thorfinn muttered into her hair. "You're so fucking warm, Princess. Feels like home when I'm inside you. Feels like forever."
Hermione moaned in agreement, interlacing her fingers with his and rolling her hips, finding a rhythm with him as he began to thrust his hips, holding her so close, completely enveloping her in his warmth and his strength. The feel of him moving inside her banished the bad feelings left over from her nightmare and she couldn't help thinking that even though the last thing she wanted right now was kids, she wouldn't mind so much if they were conceiving the daughter she'd dreamed of with his bright blue were and vibrant blonde hair.
Her body was so attuned to his touch that it didn't take long at all before she slipped over the edge and into bliss, moaning his name as she went. He bit her shoulder again lightly as he followed her, groaning quietly and burying himself deep inside her as he came, his essence washing into her warmly.
"Could stay inside you forever," Thorfinn muttered, settling against her back without releasing her body, still snuggled deep within her.
"Can if you want to," Hermione told him sleepily, knowing there was no one else for her anymore.
The Witch Hunt had confirmed that. He was her Soul Match, no matter how barmy he might make her, and the ceremony guaranteed that no other man could touch her. She wasn't counting Alecto or Antonin, despite knowing they could each touch her if they wanted. They didn't feel like Thorfinn did. They didn't have a history with her like Thorfinn did. They weren't her Soul Match. They weren't her husband.
"Going to," Thorfinn told her sleepily. "Never going to let you go, Princess. 'Till death do us part."
