Draco now knew what the old fool Dumbledore meant when he talked about how powerful the magic of love could be. For he was witnessing it for himself, feeling the raw effects as it flowed through his veins with every thrust of his hips. He felt as though nothing, not Death Eaters, Dolohov or even Voldemort could stand up to him right now with the rush of his soul bond rapidly filling every inch of his body with light. He could blow up the entire castle with just a thought and a flick of his wand, all while his lips never left Hermione's collar bones, all while his fingers tugged at the ends of her silky hair, exposing her neck to him. Sinking deeper and deeper inside her, the wet heat of her core enveloping him and suffocating his mind with thoughts of love and power he groaned in wonder. "Fuck Hermione, you are perfect."