FIC: Granger Always Has the Answer (1/2) (Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson)
Title: Granger Always Has the Answer (1/2)
Author: looneylunafan
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Prompt number: 267
Word Count: 11,701
Rating: R
Warnings: Threesome
Summary: When a potion is tweaked to make it “better”, the unknowing drinkers get more than they bargained for. Frequent trips to relieve themselves leave them feeling restless and unsatisfied. There was only one bushy haired girl in all of Hogwarts that had the brains to help them out.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and do not hope to make any money off of the fantastic brain child that is J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter. Except for the bits that I took from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Author’s Notes: This story literally took twice as long as it should have. The amazing and patient Mods have my unending gratitude, as does the beta that eventually looked over this. Thank you so much! Oh, and the Idleness-in-love juice is a shout out from my old pall Shakespeare. ;)
Granger Always Has the Answer
Prologue:
The streets of Diagon Alley were deserted and dark; the sun had set over an hour ago. A ruckus could be heard from the pub at the end when the front door opened, but all else was still. The pets in the Emporium dozed in their cages and the giant doors to Gringotts had been bolted shut. Not everyone had turned out their candles, however.
One shop on the street, always more lively than any other during the day, was run by a set of twins. What a pair of entrepreneurs they were. That very evening, the two men stood in the back room of the shop, both bent over two large cauldrons; one brimming with a violent pink mixture and the other with a dark, velvety blue.
“Our greatest invention ever, George,” one ginger-haired man says to the other.
“You say that about every product, Fred,” the other replied while making a mark on his clipboard.
“And I’m always right,” Fred agreed. He reached for a small bottle on the counter that was supporting various other potions ingredients. “Love-in-idleness juice,” he announced, sucking up a liberal amount into the eyedropper that was nearby.
“Strange name considering what it does,” George commented as he looked down at his notes. “Only a bit,” he cautioned, “we don’t want to overwhelm the tempered cocoa.”
“That’s mostly for flavour anyway, it wouldn’t be any good if it tasted grand but the effect wore off,” Fred countered.
“That isn’t the only ingredient affecting the effectiveness.” George held up his clipboard. “We’ve tested it with three drops and it’s worked well. Let’s just keep it at that.”
“Of course, dear brother.” Fred dropped three distinct drops in the pink liquid. “If that’s what the paper says.” He deposited the same amount into the other cauldron. Both tinctures bubbled excitedly before simmering.
“Right then, off to bed.” George yawned, stretching his arms overhead. He took three steps toward the staircase that led up to the second floor before he noticed his brother wasn’t following. “Coming, Fred?”
Fred was kneeling, his fingers wrapped in the laces of his trainers. “Be right up,” he promised. He bowed his head and finished the knot. By the time he was done, George was already gone.
Grinning like a cat, Fred picked up the flower juice and added another three drops to each potion. Knowing what they would be used for, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt as he returned the small container to its proper place on the shelf. They would probably thank him in the long run, if they ever knew.
Chapter 1:
Far off to the north, relaxing on a black leather couch in his common room, was Draco Malfoy, Even while focusing on a difficult task, like homework for a N.E.W.T. class, he managed to look composed and unaffected. He ignored the low chatter of the room and underlined an important sentence in the text.
A body sat on the far end of the sofa, but Draco finished the paragraph before glancing up.
“Pansy,” he greeted curtly.
Despite her annoying demeanor that seemed to repulse most people, Pansy was one of the few allowed to intrude upon Draco’s studies. Anyone that had seen her sneaking from the boy’s dormitory in the early morning understood why.
Apparently pleased to have caught his attention, the dark haired girl grinned. “I received a package.” Her voice remained flat while her eyes revealed the suppressed excitement. “I’d like to show it to you.”
“It’s not another set of robes from my mother, is it?” Having no daughter of her own, Narcissa was known to dote on Draco’s long-time girlfriend. He didn’t mind, as it meant Pansy happily received gifts she actually liked with little to no effort on his part.
“Not hardly.” She stood and walked to the end of the couch he was leaning against. “I dare say clothes will be the furthest thing from our minds, and bodies.”
Pushing her chest down and to the side of his face, Pansy leaned over and pointed to a sentence in his book. “You’ll want to underline that as well. McGonagall quoted it in class on Tuesday.” With that, she straightened up and wandered off to the dormitory stairs.
Draco reread the sentence she had pointed to several times. The quill spun in his hand with deliberate smoothness. The nib never came close enough to mar his fingers with inky marks. His face retained its passive look, rarely was he jolted by Parkinson and her antics, but his eyes had glazed over and become unfocussed. He was perhaps recalling a recent memory.
With the ease and grace of an elegant bird, Malfoy was up off the couch and walking toward his own dormitory. In his right hand, the quill was still between his loose fingers. In his left, the closed book was expertly concealing the sudden bulge in his trousers. Damn woman.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was no surprise in finding the dark haired girl lounging on Draco’s bed with one knee bent in a way that most girls wearing a skirt wouldn’t given that at any moment, one of his dorm mates could have walked in. She pretended not to notice him and continued to read a small slip of parchment in her hand.
“Part of the package, I presume?” Draco put away his school things before lying next to her. He propped himself up on the headboard. Before she could confirm or deny it, Draco snatched away the leaflet and read:
His and Hers Pleasure Intensifying Elixir
An intoxicating blend of aphrodisiacs to heighten senses and really add something spectacular to an already special evening.
Used either on their own or individually, each potion gives the drinker temporarily heightened sensitivity to certain areas of the body. When both partners consume their respective drinks, the interaction will create an even more thrilling sensation.
Kit contains 3 his and 3 hers bottles, each containing enough potion for one use.
Side effects may include, but are not limited to, itchiness or sweating in the groin area, thirst, and a feeling of being very cold. (Note: These are usually symptoms associated with drinking the potion and not copulating soon after.)
Warning: Do not attempt to operate a broom after having drunk the elixir.
If you find you have taken the potion and sexual gratification becomes unavailable, we suggest you find a private space to relieve yourself and then move out of your mother’s house.
Draco knew he should have stopped reading at the large “W” emblem at the top of the page. “Is there something wrong with the sex we have?” he asked, handing back the paper.
Pansy’s lower lip stuck out. She let out a loud sigh and lay back down with her arms folded over her chest. “There’s nothing wrong with adding a little something extra,” she defended. She didn’t say no.
In one sudden movement, Draco was on top of his girl, his knees and hands on either side of her long body. He lowered until their warm and excited bodies were pressed firmly against one another. Pansy liked long, deep kisses. Their tongues danced while his hips slowly pressed under her raised skirt and up to her dark knickers. They were usually black or green, soft. Draco didn’t notice as he pulled the curtain around his bed closed with a sharp tug.
Chapter 2:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a castle built with stone and secrecy. There were rooms that came and went, ghosts with unknown pasts, and professors that seemed to appear out of nowhere just when a student put a toe out of line. One thing that wasn’t a secret in the sacred halls of the old school was the frequency of sex had by Slytherins Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. It was strictly against the rules and if they were ever caught, surely they would both be expelled. Rumor had it they had fornicated in every classroom they had ever had class in, including the greenhouses, as well as the Great Hall and Quidditch pitch. It absolutely infuriated Hermione Granger.
Hermione, in general, didn’t care if students were intimate or kept their romance under wraps. It seemed that Parkinson and Malfoy all but displayed their physical relationship and then skimmed just under the radar. They mocked the rules by repeatedly breaking them and never getting caught. While she didn’t relish the vision that she knew would be scorched into her eyes, she would give nearly anything to be the one to catch them. What sweet vengeance against the two people that had given her so much grief over her first six years in Hogwarts.
September was at an end, Harry Potter and his friends enjoyed a quiet year for once without the threat of Voldemort around every corner. As if a wall had been torn down after the Dark Lord’s defeat, the bridge between the house of green and silver and the rest of the school was slowly being built. Sometimes Slytherins and Ravenclaws would partner in Transfiguration. Hermione had once caught a Gryffindor boy and Slytherin girl out of bed late one night. The Prince and Princess of the snakes weren’t as easily swayed as the others to join in with the comingling and instead exiled themselves to copulating exclusively.
It wasn’t healthy to dwell on the sex lives of others, Hermione knew. She told herself she didn’t care about the act but the fact that it was against school policy. As head girl, it was her duty to her beloved home of education to uphold every rule. She wouldn’t go to such extreme measures to catch just any old wandering first year, but Hermione had managed to convince Harry to lend her his Marauder’s Map one evening. She could only hope her targets wouldn’t be too quick about it, lest she walk in a moment too late only catch them fleeing from the scene.
Two small dots, smashed so closely together with her marks’ names above them, were soon spotted in the spiral staircase leading up to the astronomy tower. Taking off faster than a snitch, only on the third floor, Hermione began the hunt.
As if she were wearing blinders, the Head Girl completely missed the signs of other wrong doers; giggles down the hall and doors lightly closing. She glanced up and down from the parchment, smirking with superiority when the couple stopped, probably to snog against a wall. They had no idea that the longer they took, the closer she was to catching them.
For a moment, she lost heart in her quest. By the time she was on the sixth floor, Draco and Pansy were in the tall tower. But, judging by the small distance between them, they hadn’t started anything. She held on to that small hope and doubled her pace.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Just drink it, Draco,” Pansy said forcefully. She had already unstopped her bottle. The light pink liquid inside fizzed like a soda. Draco looked at his own glass container with minimal enthusiasm. “What are you so worried about?”
They two did normally go all the way up to a tower in the evenings simply because it was the furthest place from their dormitories. But with the delightful sensations promised by the wrappings, Pansy wanted to make the night as exciting as possible. Draco, however, seemed determined to ruin the evening.
“It did come from their joke shop,” he sneered. “What if it doesn’t actually do what it says it will?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Not all of their products are gags. Just think of all the love potions they sell. Besides, if it does anything terrible we can hex them later.” She was fully convinced that the potion would make their love making more spectacular than ever before and she was tired of waiting. “Just drink it already!”
Without waiting for further argument, she gulped hers down in two swallows and gave Draco a challenging look. The writing on the package told them that the potions would be more effective if they drank them simultaneously. Draco knew that the longer he waited, the more he would anger Pansy. Seeing that she hadn’t fallen to the ground dead, he downed all of his and stowed the container.
The potion had a mild aftertaste of fruit, but otherwise was unremarkable. The two stood there for a moment waiting for something to happen. Draco looked at Pansy, her dark hair and eyes seemed perfectly natural in the low light setting of the tower. As he took her in, he hardly noticed the edges of his vision going fuzzy. A hazy film seemed to settle over his eyes, which he rubbed thinking it was only tiredness.
Pansy let out an irritated noise, but it seemed distant and muffled. His eyes were very heavy and he let out a yawn. Sitting down, darkness fell over him and his head lulled to the side. He began breathing heavily and didn’t even feel the warmth of Pansy’s body up against him or the solitary sound of the small glass bottle rolling away from her limp hand.
The two Slytherins were leaning against one another and quietly snoring when the head girl walked into the room.
Hermione did know what she was expecting when she finally made it to the high tower, but it certainly wasn’t to see the two people she had been chasing fast asleep against a wall. Well, it wasn’t worth it to raise any alarm, but she probably shouldn’t just leave them there. A wave of her wand and a thought of the reviving spell and they both started awake, glancing up to Hermione standing over them.
Both Malfoy and Parkinson rubbed at their eyes as though they had been sleeping for hours and gave Hermione a confused look before jumping up. Though she wasn’t still aiming it at them, Hermione’s wand was still visible and neither of them dared go for their own. “A bit far from the dungeons, don’t you think?” Hermione asked.
Draco smirked and Pansy grimaced but neither said anything, still clearly disoriented from their sudden bout of sleepiness. “Ten points from both of you.” She further asserted, daring them to fight back. Malfoy opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find anything to say and turned away quickly. Pansy glared for a half second but quickly turned and followed her fellow Slytherin out the door.
Hermione was about to leave when she noticed an empty potions phial on the ground. She stooped and picked it up, sniffing the contents. There was a faint smell of berries; something she wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps this was why they were asleep, an after effect of a potion? She didn’t know, but it was getting late and time for her to retire. Even if she hadn’t caught them as she had intended, she had taken points from Slytherin and felt some sense of accomplishment at sending them back to their dorm with tails between their legs.
Chapter 3:
Hermione Granger had agrivated Draco Malfoy from the very first class they had together. She sat at the very front and raised her arm to answer every question posed before the professor could finish asking it. She was irritating, common, annoying, and always managed to earn higher marks than Draco. It wasn’t until second year, after living through a summer of his father’s disapproving glare and criticism, did he finally have something to use against her.
He smirked triumphantly when the fire left her eyes when he called her a mudblood for the very first time. Even her heroic friends were unable to take that sting away. It would be the only weapon he really had for years to come. He wasn’t a better spell caster in any area. And even now, six years later, she still brewed the best potions (save for the fluke Potter was the year before).
Draco had always been second to her, and how she had found him that night, asleep and vulnerable, only chalked up to another example of her superiority.
By the time he and Pansy had returned to the dungeons, quietly agreeing to never buy another Weasley Wizard Weezes product, Draco had suppressed his embarrassment. Along with it, he forced the new memory of the bushy haired witch standing over him and docking points to the recesses of his mind. All that remained was a desire for revenge.
Both of their desires significantly diminished, he and Pansy had bid each other good night and went to their respective dorms. Draco tossed about in his bed that evening. He was still mulling over Granger and how he might go about setting her mane of hair on fire when he finally drifted off. He fully expected his dreams to continue along the lines of his plotting, but they took a sudden turn for the worse after he catches her alone in the dungeons.
Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps fate or karma, but Draco steps out of the Slytherin common room just in time to see Hermione round a corner at the end of the corridor. There is nothing but empty classrooms and cluttered store cupboards down there. Excited to catch her up to no good for once, Draco takes up the chase.
His feet move along silently while Hermione’s dainty feet pitter-patter along, seeming to leave him a trail to follow. She gives no sign that she knows he is nearby and simply seems to wander for the sake of exploring.
Every once in a while she stops, opens a door, peers inside, shakes her head, and then keeps moving. Eventually Draco closes the large distance that had been between them.
“What are you after, Granger?” He finally asks. Gone is his desire to embarrass or hurt her. Now, he is just damn curious of her behavior.
Hermione turns to look at him and smiles, clearly not at all disturbed by Draco’s sudden presence. He sees her many white, straight teeth and recalls that he is the cause of that slight improvement.
“Draco…” The sound of his name on her lips is both exciting and soothing. He feels his temperature rise despite the chill of the stone dungeons. He is so confused in that moment that the doesn’t notice her step closer. Her hands find the edge of his shirt and lift it slowly.
“Don’t touch me!” he warns, knowing that that there is clearly something wrong. Perhaps she is bewitched. Had Pansy done this, or someone else as a sick joke?
Hermione doesn’t listen. Instead her fingers trail along the top of his pants until they find the front. In one swift movement his trousers are unbuttoned, unzipped, and falling to his ankles. All the while they stare and one another; her face serene and relaxed as though this happens every day; Draco’s confused. But he seems unable to control his own body anymore. He stands terrified with the realization that he can’t make his legs flee or his suddenly erect penis return to its previous position.
Taking advantage of both, Hermione sinks smoothly to her knees. Draco’s voice abandons him. Her face moves slowly closer, and Draco can’t help but anticipate the feeling of her small pink lips.
She’s less than an inch away; he can feel her warm breath on the tip. From her position, she looks up. Her eyes, shining and filled with lust, bore into Draco’s, startling him awake…
For all the emotions of hatred and embarrassment he had ever felt toward or because of that Gryffindor, it was nothing compared to the humiliation he faced when he woke up. None of his dorm mates were the wiser, but a sickening feeling pooled in his stomach. It had only been a dream, but for those brief moments of fantasy, he had actually found the witch attractive. His face suddenly contorted with rage and he threw back his bedding. If plotting his revenge against Granger was going to cause her to flit through his dreams, he’d be damned if he even thought of her again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pansy’s dreams also featured a certain bookworm. What had started out as a cat fight in a corridor resulted in the two snogging against the closest wall.
Pansy is mystified and, shocking herself, pleased to discover Granger’s sudden interest in women, specifically her. Pansy knows the stream of taunts that will surely come her way if they are caught. Her arms refuse to push the Gryffindor away though.
“Pansy…”
Hermione’s voice isn’t mocking or full of anger. The light breathiness of it sends chills down the Slytherin’s back and causes her to get a firmer grip of Hermione’s back and pull her close. The cotton fabric isn’t thick enough to keep in the heat of their bodies but it’s a barrier that irritates both women. Hermione backs up with her eyes on Pansy’s chest. She has only a moment to wonder what Hermione’s next move will be before her shirt is torn open. Three buttons fly away and bounce on the floor.
Hermione’s hands flatten on Pansy’s tummy and glide up over the bra before digging in for their prizes. The malleable flesh spills over the lacy garment and thumbs brush against tightened buds; Pansy’s head falls back when Hermione’s mouth latches on to the left breast.
A low sound rolls out from the heavy depths of Pansy as her hands cling to the surprisingly soft hair that she had always hated. It is unexpectedly soft and Pansy is lost in the mixture of its gentleness and Hermione’s greedy mouth. She glances down and her eyes lock on to the dark and excited twin orbs of Grangers…
Startled, Pansy sat upright in her bed, her silk nightie rose and fell with her heaving chest that seemed a world too small for her erratic heart. The thrill of the dream melted into terror and, eventually, disgust. She looked around at her bed and found a dark imprint of her body where sweat seeped into the sheets.
Staying quiet for a moment, she strained her ears to discover if anyone had heard her; either her sudden awakening or anything that may have slid out during her dream. Nightmare! she told herself firmly, partially relieved to hear nothing but the heavy breathing of her fellow seventh years.
Taking a deep breath, Pansy fell back into her bedding, which were once again inviting when she noticed how cold the room actually was. She kept her eyelids closed and determinedly thought of only Slytherin males until she knew it was about time for the sun to come up. Once an alarm went off on the far side of the room, Pansy quickly threw back her blankets, gathered a clean uniform, and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She would behave as if her mind had never become a perverse traitor in the night, and certainly would never tell a soul.
Chapter 4:
Draco’s plan to avoid Hermione at all costs was an immediate failure. Their first class the next morning was Potions; a class with few students to begin with. Slughorn was then gracious enough to have them all partner up. Draco expected to be stuck with the dim witted Hufflepuffs, but Macmillan teamed up with Corner. Then Nott and Zabini, Boot and Patil, Potter and Weasley. That only left himself and Granger.
Draco glared as her figured loomed near. She plopped into the chair next to him, completely oblivious to the contempt. Her hands fumbled with her text book and she nearly upended her cauldron as soon as it was set up. Someone in the room snickered.
He couldn’t help it; Draco was curious by nature. “What’s got you flustered, Granger; got a T in Charms for being unable to fix that ugly mug of yours?”
She heard him. The muscles in her jaw flexed; her teeth ground together. Her deliberately slow and calming breath was audible. If she wasn’t thoroughly riled before, she was now.
“It’s completely understandable, failing, you know. I honestly doubt Flitwick could do much to improve your looks.” Draco didn’t know why he was egging her on. He should have kept quiet, not looked her direction, and completed the potion without so much as a “pass the frog livers”.
Hermione still seemed impervious to Draco’s attempts to annoy her. Rather, she didn’t acknowledge him. In fact, her hands were very steady as she counted drops into the cauldron. Was he making her feel better? He set his scowl firmly in place and grabbed the ladle. The only reason partners were even needed was because the potion had to be stirred constantly, switching directions after a changing number of stirs. As soon as the last Willow Twigs were added, Draco began counting.
One… two… three… switch… one… two… three… four… add spider webs… six… switch… one… switch. He looked ahead in the book and memorized the next few sets of stirs before he turned back to the cauldron. He tried to ignore Hermione as she had been to him. Every few seconds her hands would come into view, the same ones that had gripped his thighs in his dream. He mentally slapped himself. That was not okay to think about. He already was going to have to be especially careful to guard that if legilimency was used on him again.
Four… five… six… seven… eight… switch… one… Damn her legs look nice… His eyes had wandered up from the rim of the cauldron to her knees, then her legs, held tightly together beneath the skirt. His breath hitched.
“Malfoy!” Her voice shattered his temporarily silent world. Had she caught him staring?
“Keep stirring…”
Draco’s hand had stilled when his mind had wandered with his eyes. Disgusted, he bit down on his tongue and focused his every ounce of attention on the ripples of the liquid in the cauldron. Thankfully, his pause in stirring hadn’t ruined the project.
“Ron, no!”
Every head in the class snapped up to where Potter and Weasley were working. Harry was flinging the wooden spoon about trying to clear the deep purple smoke that had engulfed the two of them. Draco smiled, certain Weasley had added too many drops of lilac juice.
“Idiot,” Draco and Hermione intoned. They both gave each other a sharp look, which was held for a moment too long. He couldn’t turn away though, not from the dark brown eyes that had thrown him awake that morning.
“Now, now, everyone return to your potions,” Slughorn advised as he stepped back to help Potter and Weasley to clear up the mess. Draco quickly snapped his head back down and stirred as if his very life depended on the accuracy. His free arm rested in on his thighs, over his groin area. He didn’t know what had just come over him, but he knew he needed to find Pansy as soon as possible.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two weeks later, Pansy walked into the Great Hall for breakfast completely disgruntled. She hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully since the night Granger had caught her and Draco in the tower. Granger, that bushy-haired, leggy seductress. Pansy couldn’t even be bothered to censure her thoughts anymore. Every night she inexplicably dreamt of the Gryffindor girl in ways that made even her blush.
In one, they had started out by going skinny dipping in the lake, which gave Pansy a fantastic view of Hermione’s curvy figure in the moonlight. In another, she had tied Pansy to a chair and slowly removed every piece of her suddenly tantalizing school uniform. The sex always varied from hurried and excited to painfully slow and passionate. It was during one of these dreams that Pansy realized she and Draco hadn’t had sex everywhere in the caste, not in the Gryffindor common room.
As she slumped into her seat, Pansy sighed. Oh Draco. Every morning after these dreams or after classes she shared with Hermione, Pansy would have an overwhelming need to find release, fast. She and Draco would go at it at least once an afternoon now, and she would lay in bed writhing beneath her own fingers, her eyes shut tight with the image of a half-dressed Gryffindor standing over her. None of it made any difference. As soon as her eyes fell on Hermione again or her mind took over in the night, the need would come back.
Pansy was torn over so many things. She hated that her body had turned against her like this. Draco had always been more than fantastic as a partner, why now was she suddenly so drawn to women? A woman. A Gryffindor woman at that! She forcefully scraped the spoon into her bowl of porridge to release some frustration. Pansy couldn’t even say it. She couldn’t look Draco in the eye after a quick shag and tell him that though he had made her cry out in bliss, it just wasn’t enough anymore.
She wondered if he knew though. Draco’s eyes, the only indicator he ever had of his internal workings, seemed to say something to her when they finished. When he rested his forehead on hers and looked deep into her eyes. It was almost as if he wanted to say “what is it? Why isn’t this right?”
She didn’t have an answer of course. Pansy didn’t know why heat pooled at her core when Hermione walked by. She didn’t know why the thought of licking another girl’s wet cunt sounded to enticing. She didn’t know why she shut her eyes when Draco pounded into her and only thought of Hermione; her hair and tits bouncing in sync.
Thinking over the whole situation had been a bad idea though. Just sitting at the breakfast table and pondering the girl had caused Pansy to soak her underwear. She finished her last bite and excused herself. If she was quick, she’d have just enough time to slip back into her dorm and get herself off before class. It was embarrassing, the need she had, and it had to stop.
Right as she passed through the doors to the Entrance Hall, she spotted Granger, alone. She looked angry as she marched down the stairs. Pansy didn’t mean to stare; she didn’t want to be caught looking, but the delightful sight of the sexy witch walking her way kept her gaze fixated. The books Hermione held to her stomach pushed her breasts up and out. Fearing she’d do something stupid if she stayed, Pansy quickly turned to the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
Five minutes later, her skirt was up, her legs were wide, and her fingers were pumping madly. Pansy had never called Hermione’s name out loud. In all of the releases she had given herself over the last fortnight, keeping the dorm constantly perfumed with her scent, she had always had the sense to keep quiet. But everyone was at breakfast and she couldn’t get the image of those perky breasts, ready to be taken in by her own mouth, right there in the Entrance Hall.
Pansy’s front two teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. The name came out in a strangled cry. “Hrr-my-nee!” The wave of relief and euphoria that crashed into her stilled everything but her wildly beating heart and heavy breathing. Her head fell back on to the headboard and then she looked to the side. There, on her nightstand, was a small slip of paper with a large “W” emblazoned on the top.
Chapter 5:
Hermione… Hermione…. Hermione… It wasn’t a fascination anymore, it was an outright obsession. Neither Draco nor Pansy had been able to find the release they were searching for on their own or with each other, Pansy had told him as much after one long romp where they both eventually fell back on to the sheets panting, sweating, but ultimately frustrated. She had also told him her theory that it had to do with the potion and her being there. Draco had argued that it couldn’t be so, only because she didn’t drink it. Pansy had countered that it could be taken on its own and therefor drinking it didn’t have anything to do with it. “Besides,” she added quietly, “it isn’t as though she’s having the same problem.”
While Draco and Pansy cast furtive sidelong glances at their fellow seventh year, she seemed to be following the same routine as normal. “Except that she and Weasley split.” There was a small hint of glee in her voice when she told Draco this, who cocked an eyebrow. “Millicent overheard Padma and Parvati talking about it; apparently it was entirely his fault as well.” Neither of them liked that they discussed Granger at length these days, but they couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.
“We need to get her to figure out what’s wrong,” Draco suggested quietly. The two of them sat very close to one another at the far end of the table so as not to be overheard. “I don’t know how,” he answered before Pansy could ask the question, “But we can’t ask anyone else. She’s the only one smart enough to figure it out but won’t go blabbing to the whole school about it.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he had some hope in him that it was true. He hated the thought of needing her, but he hated it significantly less given that every time he closed his eyes, a violent flash of her naked body appeared in his mind.
Pansy let out a long breath through her nose, but couldn’t muster an argument. The truth was they were both on the verge of propositioning the bookworm simply because their minds had all but prepared them for fabulous nights of sex. She wasn’t sure if she could ask the girl for anything without losing control and pushing her against the nearest wall. “You do it,” Pansy told him.
Though he didn’t show it, Draco was nervous. His tongue slowly ran along the back of his teeth as the thought of the prospects of being alone with Granger long enough to ask such an incredulous favour. He knew he and Pansy couldn’t. The Weasleys couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths shut. They might even use this terrible debacle as some sort of testimonial to sell their products. Even gets purebloods to fall for mudbloods.
“Fine.” Despite his worry, Draco was also very excited to be near Hermione, and just her, to ask for her help and have her take pity on him, to open up to him in some way. As the two of them left the breakfast table, the same question fermented in their minds; how?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The tables near the windows that looked out over the lake were the best in the entire library. Hermione made sure to place her school bag there before going to find a new book or two to help with her assignments. The room of books had always been her home away from the Common Room. She loved the smell of the old pages, the look of the ancient spines, and the plethora of knowledge that was just waiting to be soaked up by her sponge-like brain. It was especially attractive of late because it seemed to repel the boys.
Harry was really no trouble, but Ron. Just the flicker of his name through her mind caused Hermione to misjudge the distance between her shoulder and the corner of the bookshelf. The collision wasn´t solid but the sting remained for a few seconds. He was always hurting her, even when he wasn´t around! She huffed and grabbed the first text she could find on the subject of Runes before turning back to her table. Sadly, someone else seemed to have ignored her claim.
Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs, lounging as much as one can in a stiff wooden seat meant to ward off the lazy. His hand loosely held up a text that had nothing to with class based on the size. “Can I help you with something?” It wasn’t likely he sat there by accident; there were other tables open.
“Actually, you can.” Hermione internally cringed. What would he ask? What could he possibly need? Knowing she could turn him down if the request was outrageous, Hermione nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I need you to find an antidote to these.”
From his robes Malfoy pulled out a set of vials. Exactly the same, small, crystal, stoppered. The only difference was the colour of potion inside; violent pink in one and cobalt blue in the other. Hermione reached for the pink one and held it up to the light. “I don’t recognize these.” She sounded disappointed. She did however note that they were the same size as the one she had retrieved the night she found him and Pansy asleep in the tower. “Where did you get them?” Hermione stopped looking at the liquid and gazed right at Draco.
Immediately a presence was felt in his trousers. He fluidly turned his hips toward the wall so no one would see and without skipping a beat replied, “They were purchased.” No doubt she would soon find out what they did, she might even pick up on it through their conversation; there was no need to lie.
“If there’s something wrong with them, why don’t you get the wizard you bought them from to give you the antidote?”
“Conflict of interests.”
Malfoy didn’t say any more and Hermione knew she wasn’t getting anymore. She scooped up the second vial and placed them both in the inner pocket of her robes; right near her breast.
Draco sucked in a little extra air at the sight of her chest rising and falling, her hand so near. Did she ever touch herself? He lost focus for a moment before hardening his face again. “As soon as possible, it’s important.” He stood to leave, careful to pull his cloak in front of him while turning away.
It was strange, to say the least, for Draco Malfoy to ask any favour of Hermione. He considered himself above her. Perhaps, she considered, he was finally able to admit that he wasn’t completely superior. Perhaps he was simply having her do work for him, just like Ron. Ron. Well, she didn’t have that complete arse taking up all of her spare time, so why not do a little side project? Still, it was for him.
“What will I get in return?” Draco stopped mid stride and looked over his shoulder at her before shrugging.
“That depends on if you’re able to do it.” He smirked and walked out the door, leaving Hermione to fume slightly in his wake. If she could do it? Of course she could do it!
Her fingers found one of the small containers again and pulled it out, the blue one this time. She held it up to the light as well and followed the slow, thick flow of the liquid. Only when she twisted it, so that the bottom was facing up toward her, did she see the capital “W” etched into the bottom of the glass. Conflict of interest indeed.
Chapter 6:
The Tuesday following the meeting in the library, an owl swooped low over the Gryffindor breakfast table to deliver a note and what appeared to be rolled up newsprint to Hermione. She slowly opened the seal and tried not to glance in the direction of Ron and Padma, who were both staring at her as if the message concerned them in some way. It didn’t, nothing about her did.
Ms. H. Granger,
It both pleases and amuses us that you have such interest in our fine establishment and line of products. Please peruse the catalogue and, if you wish to order, simply fill out the form that can be found in the middle of the pages.
Yours,
Gred and Forge Weasley
P.S. Ron is a git, don’t let him get to you.
Even they knew. Hermione tucked the letter into a book and stuck the cylinder of pages into her bag to be gone over later, after class.
Potions in the late morning was a strange affair. Harry had attempted to talk to her outside of class, but Ron had come bumbling along before he had gotten more than “you really should know…” Hermione tried to offer Harry a sympathetic look, understanding that he wasn’t choosing sides, that Ron just needed him more; Ron always needed all of the attention.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione took a seat and almost instantly Malfoy took the one next to her. “I don’t know anything yet,” she said before he could ask. It obviously wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he didn’t get up and leave. “Can I ask you what was wrong with it? You don’t seem to need an antidote for anything.” Most antidotes were for poisons or other harmful elixirs; Malfoy seemed quite fit.
The left corner of his mouth twitched, the beginning of a smile maybe? “Let’s just say, Granger,” he turned his head to look straight at her, “It worked too well but on the wrong person.”
That wasn’t even moderately helpful, but the interrogation had to stop. Slughorn walked in and began lecturing, something Hermione automatically tuned into while ignoring the rest of the world. Her quill flew steadily back and forth across the page. Her tiny printing very close together, but the drying ink stayed far from her practiced hand. Draco carefully glanced at her now and again, imagining the grip on the feather instead upon his shaft. Would she ever stare so intently at him?
His neck flared, but the room was dark and no one could see. Hermione Granger sat mere inches from him, and all he could think about was tossing her notes to the side, lifting her bum up and on to the desk, and pulling her knickers to the side. He knew she’d like it on the desk. Perhaps, if he could wait that long, he’d haul her up to Slughorn’s desk. That would get her going; clutching the edge as her hair splayed out over graded papers.
In his trousers, his penis had come to life and was desperate for attention. Previously resting against his left leg, the leg closest to Hermione, it pressed up against the fabric. Draco glanced at Hermione again, so studiously taking notes. She wouldn’t notice, would she? He rested his hand in his lap, just so that the side could cross over the sensitive tip. The touch sent a jolt up through his extremities to his stomach. The heat under his collar intensified.
Hermione’s free hand moved up to brush some of her massive hair back behind her ear; the tips were very near her page. Draco held absolutely still, his fascination with her every movement enough to keep his hard on even though he was terrified she would look over at him and observe his predicament. Her eyes were firmly on her page though, only occasionally looking up and over to Slughorn. Draco took a chance, silently moving his hand up and back down an inch.
It was hardly the wild and lustful visions he had been having, but being so close to Hermione, to actually see her while carefully touching himself, it was enough. It continued just like that, for the rest of the class period. If she changed her movement, even scribbled out a misspelled word, he would freeze. She didn’t comment on the fact that he wasn’t taking notes; she just stayed in her own world while he stayed in his.
Chapter 7:
It was possible to make antidotes based on the ingredients in a potion, that was basic sixth year material, but, as Hermione had come to find that very same day, it was much easier if you know what was in the potion to begin with. If you didn’t have that much, you needed to know at least what it did. Given that Hermione was too smart to simply try out the potions Malfoy had handed her, a little investigation was in order.
Little may have been an over statement. As soon as Hermione opened the catalogue of products sent to her by the twins, the order form floated out of the middle. She snatched the page up quickly before it fell off the edge of the bed. Next to the spread sheet where customers were meant to ink in their order was an advertisement for His and Hers Pleasure Intensifying Elixir. Below the large swirly letters wan an image of the two phials; one clearly meant for the male partner and the other for the female.
A hot pink blush crept up in Hermione’s cheeks. No wonder Malfoy wanted a remedy for this if it had gone wrong. She tried not to picture what had gone awry concerning that particular part of his anatomy. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. The more logical aspect of her brain quickly reprimanded her and then took over. She needed to talk to Malfoy; ask questions. Though both Hermione and Molly Weasley had very similar opinions when it came to the twins, the former had never heard one complaint of their products, much those from their love and relationship line.
For a few minutes, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed and pondered. She could walk away; refuse to help Malfoy. Since when had he ever done anything for her benefit? At the same time, he had sought her out. It was unlikely he could sort this out without garnering unwanted attention.
So, he had passed the seedy deed on to her. What was her reputation to him? The thought made her bristle for a half second before putting her pride aside. He would owe her if he honoured such an arrangement; she doubted it. But she did have leverage over him now, something she would be able to use in her favour one day.
Eventually Hermione talked herself into continuing the investigation based on a number of half-hearted excuses: she had already agreed, it was mildly funny, it was an independent study project. Before she could talk herself back out of it, she grabbed some spare parchment from her nightstand and composed a letter to Malfoy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“From your father?” Pansy’s hot breath tickled Draco’s ear as she leaned in to his shoulder at the breakfast table. She had been sticking particularly close to Malfoy over the past few days. They continued to shag almost endlessly, the need always there even seconds after reaching an orgasm. They both tried to avoid looking at Granger whenever possible, yet they were drawn to her. Once, they had bumped into each other while following her in the library. Pansy’s eyes, dark with lust, reminded Draco of Hermione’s. They quickly moved to the back of the library and shagged silently against a wall. It took all his will power not to drag the Gryffindor along.
He shook his head in reply, but it was unnecessary. Lucius Malfoy had impeccable handwriting, but there was no doubt, especially after Pansy had stolen some of Granger’s notes that she kept tucked away in her bra, that either could mistake the tiny script that covered not nearly enough of the page.
I’d like to discuss our potions project tomorrow night, in the room of requirement. I believe I have the antidote I was studying. Seven. Bring the object of your desire.
It had no signature and the owl was one that belonged to the school; no one aside from the two Slytherins reading the note would have any idea as to what it pertained to.
“Does that mean me?” Pansy, though she couldn’t believe it, was jealous, not of Hermione being Draco’s “object of desire” but of the idea of them being alone together. More specifically, her being with him when Pansy wanted to be with her.
“That must be what she meant. She wouldn’t say that about herself; maybe it is part of the antidote. I guess we both have to go.”
Pansy had expected him to argue. What if Granger pulled some stunt? What if she had told her friends? He had told Pansy that he hadn’t brought her up in his conversation with Granger. Pansy didn’t know if she should believe the reasons he gave her or not. The more she obsessed over Granger, the more she felt like Draco was the thing standing between them. Apparently he didn’t share the sentiment.
The next day was full of classes for the both of them, but with the prospect of being alone, in a room that others couldn’t get in to, with the object of their lustful desire, was something to be guarded against. They spent the several hours leading up to it shagging, wearing themselves out on his bed, against the wall, on the floor, and even on Zabini’s bead after the mattress fell off his own. With an hour until the meeting, Pansy stepped out to clean herself up and Draco headed for a cold shower.
Part Two
Author: looneylunafan
Characters: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Prompt number: 267
Word Count: 11,701
Rating: R
Warnings: Threesome
Summary: When a potion is tweaked to make it “better”, the unknowing drinkers get more than they bargained for. Frequent trips to relieve themselves leave them feeling restless and unsatisfied. There was only one bushy haired girl in all of Hogwarts that had the brains to help them out.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and do not hope to make any money off of the fantastic brain child that is J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter. Except for the bits that I took from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Author’s Notes: This story literally took twice as long as it should have. The amazing and patient Mods have my unending gratitude, as does the beta that eventually looked over this. Thank you so much! Oh, and the Idleness-in-love juice is a shout out from my old pall Shakespeare. ;)
Granger Always Has the Answer
Prologue:
The streets of Diagon Alley were deserted and dark; the sun had set over an hour ago. A ruckus could be heard from the pub at the end when the front door opened, but all else was still. The pets in the Emporium dozed in their cages and the giant doors to Gringotts had been bolted shut. Not everyone had turned out their candles, however.
One shop on the street, always more lively than any other during the day, was run by a set of twins. What a pair of entrepreneurs they were. That very evening, the two men stood in the back room of the shop, both bent over two large cauldrons; one brimming with a violent pink mixture and the other with a dark, velvety blue.
“Our greatest invention ever, George,” one ginger-haired man says to the other.
“You say that about every product, Fred,” the other replied while making a mark on his clipboard.
“And I’m always right,” Fred agreed. He reached for a small bottle on the counter that was supporting various other potions ingredients. “Love-in-idleness juice,” he announced, sucking up a liberal amount into the eyedropper that was nearby.
“Strange name considering what it does,” George commented as he looked down at his notes. “Only a bit,” he cautioned, “we don’t want to overwhelm the tempered cocoa.”
“That’s mostly for flavour anyway, it wouldn’t be any good if it tasted grand but the effect wore off,” Fred countered.
“That isn’t the only ingredient affecting the effectiveness.” George held up his clipboard. “We’ve tested it with three drops and it’s worked well. Let’s just keep it at that.”
“Of course, dear brother.” Fred dropped three distinct drops in the pink liquid. “If that’s what the paper says.” He deposited the same amount into the other cauldron. Both tinctures bubbled excitedly before simmering.
“Right then, off to bed.” George yawned, stretching his arms overhead. He took three steps toward the staircase that led up to the second floor before he noticed his brother wasn’t following. “Coming, Fred?”
Fred was kneeling, his fingers wrapped in the laces of his trainers. “Be right up,” he promised. He bowed his head and finished the knot. By the time he was done, George was already gone.
Grinning like a cat, Fred picked up the flower juice and added another three drops to each potion. Knowing what they would be used for, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt as he returned the small container to its proper place on the shelf. They would probably thank him in the long run, if they ever knew.
Chapter 1:
Far off to the north, relaxing on a black leather couch in his common room, was Draco Malfoy, Even while focusing on a difficult task, like homework for a N.E.W.T. class, he managed to look composed and unaffected. He ignored the low chatter of the room and underlined an important sentence in the text.
A body sat on the far end of the sofa, but Draco finished the paragraph before glancing up.
“Pansy,” he greeted curtly.
Despite her annoying demeanor that seemed to repulse most people, Pansy was one of the few allowed to intrude upon Draco’s studies. Anyone that had seen her sneaking from the boy’s dormitory in the early morning understood why.
Apparently pleased to have caught his attention, the dark haired girl grinned. “I received a package.” Her voice remained flat while her eyes revealed the suppressed excitement. “I’d like to show it to you.”
“It’s not another set of robes from my mother, is it?” Having no daughter of her own, Narcissa was known to dote on Draco’s long-time girlfriend. He didn’t mind, as it meant Pansy happily received gifts she actually liked with little to no effort on his part.
“Not hardly.” She stood and walked to the end of the couch he was leaning against. “I dare say clothes will be the furthest thing from our minds, and bodies.”
Pushing her chest down and to the side of his face, Pansy leaned over and pointed to a sentence in his book. “You’ll want to underline that as well. McGonagall quoted it in class on Tuesday.” With that, she straightened up and wandered off to the dormitory stairs.
Draco reread the sentence she had pointed to several times. The quill spun in his hand with deliberate smoothness. The nib never came close enough to mar his fingers with inky marks. His face retained its passive look, rarely was he jolted by Parkinson and her antics, but his eyes had glazed over and become unfocussed. He was perhaps recalling a recent memory.
With the ease and grace of an elegant bird, Malfoy was up off the couch and walking toward his own dormitory. In his right hand, the quill was still between his loose fingers. In his left, the closed book was expertly concealing the sudden bulge in his trousers. Damn woman.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There was no surprise in finding the dark haired girl lounging on Draco’s bed with one knee bent in a way that most girls wearing a skirt wouldn’t given that at any moment, one of his dorm mates could have walked in. She pretended not to notice him and continued to read a small slip of parchment in her hand.
“Part of the package, I presume?” Draco put away his school things before lying next to her. He propped himself up on the headboard. Before she could confirm or deny it, Draco snatched away the leaflet and read:
His and Hers Pleasure Intensifying Elixir
An intoxicating blend of aphrodisiacs to heighten senses and really add something spectacular to an already special evening.
Used either on their own or individually, each potion gives the drinker temporarily heightened sensitivity to certain areas of the body. When both partners consume their respective drinks, the interaction will create an even more thrilling sensation.
Kit contains 3 his and 3 hers bottles, each containing enough potion for one use.
Side effects may include, but are not limited to, itchiness or sweating in the groin area, thirst, and a feeling of being very cold. (Note: These are usually symptoms associated with drinking the potion and not copulating soon after.)
Warning: Do not attempt to operate a broom after having drunk the elixir.
If you find you have taken the potion and sexual gratification becomes unavailable, we suggest you find a private space to relieve yourself and then move out of your mother’s house.
Draco knew he should have stopped reading at the large “W” emblem at the top of the page. “Is there something wrong with the sex we have?” he asked, handing back the paper.
Pansy’s lower lip stuck out. She let out a loud sigh and lay back down with her arms folded over her chest. “There’s nothing wrong with adding a little something extra,” she defended. She didn’t say no.
In one sudden movement, Draco was on top of his girl, his knees and hands on either side of her long body. He lowered until their warm and excited bodies were pressed firmly against one another. Pansy liked long, deep kisses. Their tongues danced while his hips slowly pressed under her raised skirt and up to her dark knickers. They were usually black or green, soft. Draco didn’t notice as he pulled the curtain around his bed closed with a sharp tug.
Chapter 2:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a castle built with stone and secrecy. There were rooms that came and went, ghosts with unknown pasts, and professors that seemed to appear out of nowhere just when a student put a toe out of line. One thing that wasn’t a secret in the sacred halls of the old school was the frequency of sex had by Slytherins Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. It was strictly against the rules and if they were ever caught, surely they would both be expelled. Rumor had it they had fornicated in every classroom they had ever had class in, including the greenhouses, as well as the Great Hall and Quidditch pitch. It absolutely infuriated Hermione Granger.
Hermione, in general, didn’t care if students were intimate or kept their romance under wraps. It seemed that Parkinson and Malfoy all but displayed their physical relationship and then skimmed just under the radar. They mocked the rules by repeatedly breaking them and never getting caught. While she didn’t relish the vision that she knew would be scorched into her eyes, she would give nearly anything to be the one to catch them. What sweet vengeance against the two people that had given her so much grief over her first six years in Hogwarts.
September was at an end, Harry Potter and his friends enjoyed a quiet year for once without the threat of Voldemort around every corner. As if a wall had been torn down after the Dark Lord’s defeat, the bridge between the house of green and silver and the rest of the school was slowly being built. Sometimes Slytherins and Ravenclaws would partner in Transfiguration. Hermione had once caught a Gryffindor boy and Slytherin girl out of bed late one night. The Prince and Princess of the snakes weren’t as easily swayed as the others to join in with the comingling and instead exiled themselves to copulating exclusively.
It wasn’t healthy to dwell on the sex lives of others, Hermione knew. She told herself she didn’t care about the act but the fact that it was against school policy. As head girl, it was her duty to her beloved home of education to uphold every rule. She wouldn’t go to such extreme measures to catch just any old wandering first year, but Hermione had managed to convince Harry to lend her his Marauder’s Map one evening. She could only hope her targets wouldn’t be too quick about it, lest she walk in a moment too late only catch them fleeing from the scene.
Two small dots, smashed so closely together with her marks’ names above them, were soon spotted in the spiral staircase leading up to the astronomy tower. Taking off faster than a snitch, only on the third floor, Hermione began the hunt.
As if she were wearing blinders, the Head Girl completely missed the signs of other wrong doers; giggles down the hall and doors lightly closing. She glanced up and down from the parchment, smirking with superiority when the couple stopped, probably to snog against a wall. They had no idea that the longer they took, the closer she was to catching them.
For a moment, she lost heart in her quest. By the time she was on the sixth floor, Draco and Pansy were in the tall tower. But, judging by the small distance between them, they hadn’t started anything. She held on to that small hope and doubled her pace.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Just drink it, Draco,” Pansy said forcefully. She had already unstopped her bottle. The light pink liquid inside fizzed like a soda. Draco looked at his own glass container with minimal enthusiasm. “What are you so worried about?”
They two did normally go all the way up to a tower in the evenings simply because it was the furthest place from their dormitories. But with the delightful sensations promised by the wrappings, Pansy wanted to make the night as exciting as possible. Draco, however, seemed determined to ruin the evening.
“It did come from their joke shop,” he sneered. “What if it doesn’t actually do what it says it will?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Not all of their products are gags. Just think of all the love potions they sell. Besides, if it does anything terrible we can hex them later.” She was fully convinced that the potion would make their love making more spectacular than ever before and she was tired of waiting. “Just drink it already!”
Without waiting for further argument, she gulped hers down in two swallows and gave Draco a challenging look. The writing on the package told them that the potions would be more effective if they drank them simultaneously. Draco knew that the longer he waited, the more he would anger Pansy. Seeing that she hadn’t fallen to the ground dead, he downed all of his and stowed the container.
The potion had a mild aftertaste of fruit, but otherwise was unremarkable. The two stood there for a moment waiting for something to happen. Draco looked at Pansy, her dark hair and eyes seemed perfectly natural in the low light setting of the tower. As he took her in, he hardly noticed the edges of his vision going fuzzy. A hazy film seemed to settle over his eyes, which he rubbed thinking it was only tiredness.
Pansy let out an irritated noise, but it seemed distant and muffled. His eyes were very heavy and he let out a yawn. Sitting down, darkness fell over him and his head lulled to the side. He began breathing heavily and didn’t even feel the warmth of Pansy’s body up against him or the solitary sound of the small glass bottle rolling away from her limp hand.
The two Slytherins were leaning against one another and quietly snoring when the head girl walked into the room.
Hermione did know what she was expecting when she finally made it to the high tower, but it certainly wasn’t to see the two people she had been chasing fast asleep against a wall. Well, it wasn’t worth it to raise any alarm, but she probably shouldn’t just leave them there. A wave of her wand and a thought of the reviving spell and they both started awake, glancing up to Hermione standing over them.
Both Malfoy and Parkinson rubbed at their eyes as though they had been sleeping for hours and gave Hermione a confused look before jumping up. Though she wasn’t still aiming it at them, Hermione’s wand was still visible and neither of them dared go for their own. “A bit far from the dungeons, don’t you think?” Hermione asked.
Draco smirked and Pansy grimaced but neither said anything, still clearly disoriented from their sudden bout of sleepiness. “Ten points from both of you.” She further asserted, daring them to fight back. Malfoy opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find anything to say and turned away quickly. Pansy glared for a half second but quickly turned and followed her fellow Slytherin out the door.
Hermione was about to leave when she noticed an empty potions phial on the ground. She stooped and picked it up, sniffing the contents. There was a faint smell of berries; something she wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps this was why they were asleep, an after effect of a potion? She didn’t know, but it was getting late and time for her to retire. Even if she hadn’t caught them as she had intended, she had taken points from Slytherin and felt some sense of accomplishment at sending them back to their dorm with tails between their legs.
Chapter 3:
Hermione Granger had agrivated Draco Malfoy from the very first class they had together. She sat at the very front and raised her arm to answer every question posed before the professor could finish asking it. She was irritating, common, annoying, and always managed to earn higher marks than Draco. It wasn’t until second year, after living through a summer of his father’s disapproving glare and criticism, did he finally have something to use against her.
He smirked triumphantly when the fire left her eyes when he called her a mudblood for the very first time. Even her heroic friends were unable to take that sting away. It would be the only weapon he really had for years to come. He wasn’t a better spell caster in any area. And even now, six years later, she still brewed the best potions (save for the fluke Potter was the year before).
Draco had always been second to her, and how she had found him that night, asleep and vulnerable, only chalked up to another example of her superiority.
By the time he and Pansy had returned to the dungeons, quietly agreeing to never buy another Weasley Wizard Weezes product, Draco had suppressed his embarrassment. Along with it, he forced the new memory of the bushy haired witch standing over him and docking points to the recesses of his mind. All that remained was a desire for revenge.
Both of their desires significantly diminished, he and Pansy had bid each other good night and went to their respective dorms. Draco tossed about in his bed that evening. He was still mulling over Granger and how he might go about setting her mane of hair on fire when he finally drifted off. He fully expected his dreams to continue along the lines of his plotting, but they took a sudden turn for the worse after he catches her alone in the dungeons.
Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps fate or karma, but Draco steps out of the Slytherin common room just in time to see Hermione round a corner at the end of the corridor. There is nothing but empty classrooms and cluttered store cupboards down there. Excited to catch her up to no good for once, Draco takes up the chase.
His feet move along silently while Hermione’s dainty feet pitter-patter along, seeming to leave him a trail to follow. She gives no sign that she knows he is nearby and simply seems to wander for the sake of exploring.
Every once in a while she stops, opens a door, peers inside, shakes her head, and then keeps moving. Eventually Draco closes the large distance that had been between them.
“What are you after, Granger?” He finally asks. Gone is his desire to embarrass or hurt her. Now, he is just damn curious of her behavior.
Hermione turns to look at him and smiles, clearly not at all disturbed by Draco’s sudden presence. He sees her many white, straight teeth and recalls that he is the cause of that slight improvement.
“Draco…” The sound of his name on her lips is both exciting and soothing. He feels his temperature rise despite the chill of the stone dungeons. He is so confused in that moment that the doesn’t notice her step closer. Her hands find the edge of his shirt and lift it slowly.
“Don’t touch me!” he warns, knowing that that there is clearly something wrong. Perhaps she is bewitched. Had Pansy done this, or someone else as a sick joke?
Hermione doesn’t listen. Instead her fingers trail along the top of his pants until they find the front. In one swift movement his trousers are unbuttoned, unzipped, and falling to his ankles. All the while they stare and one another; her face serene and relaxed as though this happens every day; Draco’s confused. But he seems unable to control his own body anymore. He stands terrified with the realization that he can’t make his legs flee or his suddenly erect penis return to its previous position.
Taking advantage of both, Hermione sinks smoothly to her knees. Draco’s voice abandons him. Her face moves slowly closer, and Draco can’t help but anticipate the feeling of her small pink lips.
She’s less than an inch away; he can feel her warm breath on the tip. From her position, she looks up. Her eyes, shining and filled with lust, bore into Draco’s, startling him awake…
For all the emotions of hatred and embarrassment he had ever felt toward or because of that Gryffindor, it was nothing compared to the humiliation he faced when he woke up. None of his dorm mates were the wiser, but a sickening feeling pooled in his stomach. It had only been a dream, but for those brief moments of fantasy, he had actually found the witch attractive. His face suddenly contorted with rage and he threw back his bedding. If plotting his revenge against Granger was going to cause her to flit through his dreams, he’d be damned if he even thought of her again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pansy’s dreams also featured a certain bookworm. What had started out as a cat fight in a corridor resulted in the two snogging against the closest wall.
Pansy is mystified and, shocking herself, pleased to discover Granger’s sudden interest in women, specifically her. Pansy knows the stream of taunts that will surely come her way if they are caught. Her arms refuse to push the Gryffindor away though.
“Pansy…”
Hermione’s voice isn’t mocking or full of anger. The light breathiness of it sends chills down the Slytherin’s back and causes her to get a firmer grip of Hermione’s back and pull her close. The cotton fabric isn’t thick enough to keep in the heat of their bodies but it’s a barrier that irritates both women. Hermione backs up with her eyes on Pansy’s chest. She has only a moment to wonder what Hermione’s next move will be before her shirt is torn open. Three buttons fly away and bounce on the floor.
Hermione’s hands flatten on Pansy’s tummy and glide up over the bra before digging in for their prizes. The malleable flesh spills over the lacy garment and thumbs brush against tightened buds; Pansy’s head falls back when Hermione’s mouth latches on to the left breast.
A low sound rolls out from the heavy depths of Pansy as her hands cling to the surprisingly soft hair that she had always hated. It is unexpectedly soft and Pansy is lost in the mixture of its gentleness and Hermione’s greedy mouth. She glances down and her eyes lock on to the dark and excited twin orbs of Grangers…
Startled, Pansy sat upright in her bed, her silk nightie rose and fell with her heaving chest that seemed a world too small for her erratic heart. The thrill of the dream melted into terror and, eventually, disgust. She looked around at her bed and found a dark imprint of her body where sweat seeped into the sheets.
Staying quiet for a moment, she strained her ears to discover if anyone had heard her; either her sudden awakening or anything that may have slid out during her dream. Nightmare! she told herself firmly, partially relieved to hear nothing but the heavy breathing of her fellow seventh years.
Taking a deep breath, Pansy fell back into her bedding, which were once again inviting when she noticed how cold the room actually was. She kept her eyelids closed and determinedly thought of only Slytherin males until she knew it was about time for the sun to come up. Once an alarm went off on the far side of the room, Pansy quickly threw back her blankets, gathered a clean uniform, and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She would behave as if her mind had never become a perverse traitor in the night, and certainly would never tell a soul.
Chapter 4:
Draco’s plan to avoid Hermione at all costs was an immediate failure. Their first class the next morning was Potions; a class with few students to begin with. Slughorn was then gracious enough to have them all partner up. Draco expected to be stuck with the dim witted Hufflepuffs, but Macmillan teamed up with Corner. Then Nott and Zabini, Boot and Patil, Potter and Weasley. That only left himself and Granger.
Draco glared as her figured loomed near. She plopped into the chair next to him, completely oblivious to the contempt. Her hands fumbled with her text book and she nearly upended her cauldron as soon as it was set up. Someone in the room snickered.
He couldn’t help it; Draco was curious by nature. “What’s got you flustered, Granger; got a T in Charms for being unable to fix that ugly mug of yours?”
She heard him. The muscles in her jaw flexed; her teeth ground together. Her deliberately slow and calming breath was audible. If she wasn’t thoroughly riled before, she was now.
“It’s completely understandable, failing, you know. I honestly doubt Flitwick could do much to improve your looks.” Draco didn’t know why he was egging her on. He should have kept quiet, not looked her direction, and completed the potion without so much as a “pass the frog livers”.
Hermione still seemed impervious to Draco’s attempts to annoy her. Rather, she didn’t acknowledge him. In fact, her hands were very steady as she counted drops into the cauldron. Was he making her feel better? He set his scowl firmly in place and grabbed the ladle. The only reason partners were even needed was because the potion had to be stirred constantly, switching directions after a changing number of stirs. As soon as the last Willow Twigs were added, Draco began counting.
One… two… three… switch… one… two… three… four… add spider webs… six… switch… one… switch. He looked ahead in the book and memorized the next few sets of stirs before he turned back to the cauldron. He tried to ignore Hermione as she had been to him. Every few seconds her hands would come into view, the same ones that had gripped his thighs in his dream. He mentally slapped himself. That was not okay to think about. He already was going to have to be especially careful to guard that if legilimency was used on him again.
Four… five… six… seven… eight… switch… one… Damn her legs look nice… His eyes had wandered up from the rim of the cauldron to her knees, then her legs, held tightly together beneath the skirt. His breath hitched.
“Malfoy!” Her voice shattered his temporarily silent world. Had she caught him staring?
“Keep stirring…”
Draco’s hand had stilled when his mind had wandered with his eyes. Disgusted, he bit down on his tongue and focused his every ounce of attention on the ripples of the liquid in the cauldron. Thankfully, his pause in stirring hadn’t ruined the project.
“Ron, no!”
Every head in the class snapped up to where Potter and Weasley were working. Harry was flinging the wooden spoon about trying to clear the deep purple smoke that had engulfed the two of them. Draco smiled, certain Weasley had added too many drops of lilac juice.
“Idiot,” Draco and Hermione intoned. They both gave each other a sharp look, which was held for a moment too long. He couldn’t turn away though, not from the dark brown eyes that had thrown him awake that morning.
“Now, now, everyone return to your potions,” Slughorn advised as he stepped back to help Potter and Weasley to clear up the mess. Draco quickly snapped his head back down and stirred as if his very life depended on the accuracy. His free arm rested in on his thighs, over his groin area. He didn’t know what had just come over him, but he knew he needed to find Pansy as soon as possible.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two weeks later, Pansy walked into the Great Hall for breakfast completely disgruntled. She hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully since the night Granger had caught her and Draco in the tower. Granger, that bushy-haired, leggy seductress. Pansy couldn’t even be bothered to censure her thoughts anymore. Every night she inexplicably dreamt of the Gryffindor girl in ways that made even her blush.
In one, they had started out by going skinny dipping in the lake, which gave Pansy a fantastic view of Hermione’s curvy figure in the moonlight. In another, she had tied Pansy to a chair and slowly removed every piece of her suddenly tantalizing school uniform. The sex always varied from hurried and excited to painfully slow and passionate. It was during one of these dreams that Pansy realized she and Draco hadn’t had sex everywhere in the caste, not in the Gryffindor common room.
As she slumped into her seat, Pansy sighed. Oh Draco. Every morning after these dreams or after classes she shared with Hermione, Pansy would have an overwhelming need to find release, fast. She and Draco would go at it at least once an afternoon now, and she would lay in bed writhing beneath her own fingers, her eyes shut tight with the image of a half-dressed Gryffindor standing over her. None of it made any difference. As soon as her eyes fell on Hermione again or her mind took over in the night, the need would come back.
Pansy was torn over so many things. She hated that her body had turned against her like this. Draco had always been more than fantastic as a partner, why now was she suddenly so drawn to women? A woman. A Gryffindor woman at that! She forcefully scraped the spoon into her bowl of porridge to release some frustration. Pansy couldn’t even say it. She couldn’t look Draco in the eye after a quick shag and tell him that though he had made her cry out in bliss, it just wasn’t enough anymore.
She wondered if he knew though. Draco’s eyes, the only indicator he ever had of his internal workings, seemed to say something to her when they finished. When he rested his forehead on hers and looked deep into her eyes. It was almost as if he wanted to say “what is it? Why isn’t this right?”
She didn’t have an answer of course. Pansy didn’t know why heat pooled at her core when Hermione walked by. She didn’t know why the thought of licking another girl’s wet cunt sounded to enticing. She didn’t know why she shut her eyes when Draco pounded into her and only thought of Hermione; her hair and tits bouncing in sync.
Thinking over the whole situation had been a bad idea though. Just sitting at the breakfast table and pondering the girl had caused Pansy to soak her underwear. She finished her last bite and excused herself. If she was quick, she’d have just enough time to slip back into her dorm and get herself off before class. It was embarrassing, the need she had, and it had to stop.
Right as she passed through the doors to the Entrance Hall, she spotted Granger, alone. She looked angry as she marched down the stairs. Pansy didn’t mean to stare; she didn’t want to be caught looking, but the delightful sight of the sexy witch walking her way kept her gaze fixated. The books Hermione held to her stomach pushed her breasts up and out. Fearing she’d do something stupid if she stayed, Pansy quickly turned to the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
Five minutes later, her skirt was up, her legs were wide, and her fingers were pumping madly. Pansy had never called Hermione’s name out loud. In all of the releases she had given herself over the last fortnight, keeping the dorm constantly perfumed with her scent, she had always had the sense to keep quiet. But everyone was at breakfast and she couldn’t get the image of those perky breasts, ready to be taken in by her own mouth, right there in the Entrance Hall.
Pansy’s front two teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. The name came out in a strangled cry. “Hrr-my-nee!” The wave of relief and euphoria that crashed into her stilled everything but her wildly beating heart and heavy breathing. Her head fell back on to the headboard and then she looked to the side. There, on her nightstand, was a small slip of paper with a large “W” emblazoned on the top.
Chapter 5:
Hermione… Hermione…. Hermione… It wasn’t a fascination anymore, it was an outright obsession. Neither Draco nor Pansy had been able to find the release they were searching for on their own or with each other, Pansy had told him as much after one long romp where they both eventually fell back on to the sheets panting, sweating, but ultimately frustrated. She had also told him her theory that it had to do with the potion and her being there. Draco had argued that it couldn’t be so, only because she didn’t drink it. Pansy had countered that it could be taken on its own and therefor drinking it didn’t have anything to do with it. “Besides,” she added quietly, “it isn’t as though she’s having the same problem.”
While Draco and Pansy cast furtive sidelong glances at their fellow seventh year, she seemed to be following the same routine as normal. “Except that she and Weasley split.” There was a small hint of glee in her voice when she told Draco this, who cocked an eyebrow. “Millicent overheard Padma and Parvati talking about it; apparently it was entirely his fault as well.” Neither of them liked that they discussed Granger at length these days, but they couldn’t seem to focus on anything else.
“We need to get her to figure out what’s wrong,” Draco suggested quietly. The two of them sat very close to one another at the far end of the table so as not to be overheard. “I don’t know how,” he answered before Pansy could ask the question, “But we can’t ask anyone else. She’s the only one smart enough to figure it out but won’t go blabbing to the whole school about it.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he had some hope in him that it was true. He hated the thought of needing her, but he hated it significantly less given that every time he closed his eyes, a violent flash of her naked body appeared in his mind.
Pansy let out a long breath through her nose, but couldn’t muster an argument. The truth was they were both on the verge of propositioning the bookworm simply because their minds had all but prepared them for fabulous nights of sex. She wasn’t sure if she could ask the girl for anything without losing control and pushing her against the nearest wall. “You do it,” Pansy told him.
Though he didn’t show it, Draco was nervous. His tongue slowly ran along the back of his teeth as the thought of the prospects of being alone with Granger long enough to ask such an incredulous favour. He knew he and Pansy couldn’t. The Weasleys couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths shut. They might even use this terrible debacle as some sort of testimonial to sell their products. Even gets purebloods to fall for mudbloods.
“Fine.” Despite his worry, Draco was also very excited to be near Hermione, and just her, to ask for her help and have her take pity on him, to open up to him in some way. As the two of them left the breakfast table, the same question fermented in their minds; how?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The tables near the windows that looked out over the lake were the best in the entire library. Hermione made sure to place her school bag there before going to find a new book or two to help with her assignments. The room of books had always been her home away from the Common Room. She loved the smell of the old pages, the look of the ancient spines, and the plethora of knowledge that was just waiting to be soaked up by her sponge-like brain. It was especially attractive of late because it seemed to repel the boys.
Harry was really no trouble, but Ron. Just the flicker of his name through her mind caused Hermione to misjudge the distance between her shoulder and the corner of the bookshelf. The collision wasn´t solid but the sting remained for a few seconds. He was always hurting her, even when he wasn´t around! She huffed and grabbed the first text she could find on the subject of Runes before turning back to her table. Sadly, someone else seemed to have ignored her claim.
Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs, lounging as much as one can in a stiff wooden seat meant to ward off the lazy. His hand loosely held up a text that had nothing to with class based on the size. “Can I help you with something?” It wasn’t likely he sat there by accident; there were other tables open.
“Actually, you can.” Hermione internally cringed. What would he ask? What could he possibly need? Knowing she could turn him down if the request was outrageous, Hermione nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I need you to find an antidote to these.”
From his robes Malfoy pulled out a set of vials. Exactly the same, small, crystal, stoppered. The only difference was the colour of potion inside; violent pink in one and cobalt blue in the other. Hermione reached for the pink one and held it up to the light. “I don’t recognize these.” She sounded disappointed. She did however note that they were the same size as the one she had retrieved the night she found him and Pansy asleep in the tower. “Where did you get them?” Hermione stopped looking at the liquid and gazed right at Draco.
Immediately a presence was felt in his trousers. He fluidly turned his hips toward the wall so no one would see and without skipping a beat replied, “They were purchased.” No doubt she would soon find out what they did, she might even pick up on it through their conversation; there was no need to lie.
“If there’s something wrong with them, why don’t you get the wizard you bought them from to give you the antidote?”
“Conflict of interests.”
Malfoy didn’t say any more and Hermione knew she wasn’t getting anymore. She scooped up the second vial and placed them both in the inner pocket of her robes; right near her breast.
Draco sucked in a little extra air at the sight of her chest rising and falling, her hand so near. Did she ever touch herself? He lost focus for a moment before hardening his face again. “As soon as possible, it’s important.” He stood to leave, careful to pull his cloak in front of him while turning away.
It was strange, to say the least, for Draco Malfoy to ask any favour of Hermione. He considered himself above her. Perhaps, she considered, he was finally able to admit that he wasn’t completely superior. Perhaps he was simply having her do work for him, just like Ron. Ron. Well, she didn’t have that complete arse taking up all of her spare time, so why not do a little side project? Still, it was for him.
“What will I get in return?” Draco stopped mid stride and looked over his shoulder at her before shrugging.
“That depends on if you’re able to do it.” He smirked and walked out the door, leaving Hermione to fume slightly in his wake. If she could do it? Of course she could do it!
Her fingers found one of the small containers again and pulled it out, the blue one this time. She held it up to the light as well and followed the slow, thick flow of the liquid. Only when she twisted it, so that the bottom was facing up toward her, did she see the capital “W” etched into the bottom of the glass. Conflict of interest indeed.
Chapter 6:
The Tuesday following the meeting in the library, an owl swooped low over the Gryffindor breakfast table to deliver a note and what appeared to be rolled up newsprint to Hermione. She slowly opened the seal and tried not to glance in the direction of Ron and Padma, who were both staring at her as if the message concerned them in some way. It didn’t, nothing about her did.
Ms. H. Granger,
It both pleases and amuses us that you have such interest in our fine establishment and line of products. Please peruse the catalogue and, if you wish to order, simply fill out the form that can be found in the middle of the pages.
Yours,
Gred and Forge Weasley
P.S. Ron is a git, don’t let him get to you.
Even they knew. Hermione tucked the letter into a book and stuck the cylinder of pages into her bag to be gone over later, after class.
Potions in the late morning was a strange affair. Harry had attempted to talk to her outside of class, but Ron had come bumbling along before he had gotten more than “you really should know…” Hermione tried to offer Harry a sympathetic look, understanding that he wasn’t choosing sides, that Ron just needed him more; Ron always needed all of the attention.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione took a seat and almost instantly Malfoy took the one next to her. “I don’t know anything yet,” she said before he could ask. It obviously wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he didn’t get up and leave. “Can I ask you what was wrong with it? You don’t seem to need an antidote for anything.” Most antidotes were for poisons or other harmful elixirs; Malfoy seemed quite fit.
The left corner of his mouth twitched, the beginning of a smile maybe? “Let’s just say, Granger,” he turned his head to look straight at her, “It worked too well but on the wrong person.”
That wasn’t even moderately helpful, but the interrogation had to stop. Slughorn walked in and began lecturing, something Hermione automatically tuned into while ignoring the rest of the world. Her quill flew steadily back and forth across the page. Her tiny printing very close together, but the drying ink stayed far from her practiced hand. Draco carefully glanced at her now and again, imagining the grip on the feather instead upon his shaft. Would she ever stare so intently at him?
His neck flared, but the room was dark and no one could see. Hermione Granger sat mere inches from him, and all he could think about was tossing her notes to the side, lifting her bum up and on to the desk, and pulling her knickers to the side. He knew she’d like it on the desk. Perhaps, if he could wait that long, he’d haul her up to Slughorn’s desk. That would get her going; clutching the edge as her hair splayed out over graded papers.
In his trousers, his penis had come to life and was desperate for attention. Previously resting against his left leg, the leg closest to Hermione, it pressed up against the fabric. Draco glanced at Hermione again, so studiously taking notes. She wouldn’t notice, would she? He rested his hand in his lap, just so that the side could cross over the sensitive tip. The touch sent a jolt up through his extremities to his stomach. The heat under his collar intensified.
Hermione’s free hand moved up to brush some of her massive hair back behind her ear; the tips were very near her page. Draco held absolutely still, his fascination with her every movement enough to keep his hard on even though he was terrified she would look over at him and observe his predicament. Her eyes were firmly on her page though, only occasionally looking up and over to Slughorn. Draco took a chance, silently moving his hand up and back down an inch.
It was hardly the wild and lustful visions he had been having, but being so close to Hermione, to actually see her while carefully touching himself, it was enough. It continued just like that, for the rest of the class period. If she changed her movement, even scribbled out a misspelled word, he would freeze. She didn’t comment on the fact that he wasn’t taking notes; she just stayed in her own world while he stayed in his.
Chapter 7:
It was possible to make antidotes based on the ingredients in a potion, that was basic sixth year material, but, as Hermione had come to find that very same day, it was much easier if you know what was in the potion to begin with. If you didn’t have that much, you needed to know at least what it did. Given that Hermione was too smart to simply try out the potions Malfoy had handed her, a little investigation was in order.
Little may have been an over statement. As soon as Hermione opened the catalogue of products sent to her by the twins, the order form floated out of the middle. She snatched the page up quickly before it fell off the edge of the bed. Next to the spread sheet where customers were meant to ink in their order was an advertisement for His and Hers Pleasure Intensifying Elixir. Below the large swirly letters wan an image of the two phials; one clearly meant for the male partner and the other for the female.
A hot pink blush crept up in Hermione’s cheeks. No wonder Malfoy wanted a remedy for this if it had gone wrong. She tried not to picture what had gone awry concerning that particular part of his anatomy. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. The more logical aspect of her brain quickly reprimanded her and then took over. She needed to talk to Malfoy; ask questions. Though both Hermione and Molly Weasley had very similar opinions when it came to the twins, the former had never heard one complaint of their products, much those from their love and relationship line.
For a few minutes, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed and pondered. She could walk away; refuse to help Malfoy. Since when had he ever done anything for her benefit? At the same time, he had sought her out. It was unlikely he could sort this out without garnering unwanted attention.
So, he had passed the seedy deed on to her. What was her reputation to him? The thought made her bristle for a half second before putting her pride aside. He would owe her if he honoured such an arrangement; she doubted it. But she did have leverage over him now, something she would be able to use in her favour one day.
Eventually Hermione talked herself into continuing the investigation based on a number of half-hearted excuses: she had already agreed, it was mildly funny, it was an independent study project. Before she could talk herself back out of it, she grabbed some spare parchment from her nightstand and composed a letter to Malfoy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“From your father?” Pansy’s hot breath tickled Draco’s ear as she leaned in to his shoulder at the breakfast table. She had been sticking particularly close to Malfoy over the past few days. They continued to shag almost endlessly, the need always there even seconds after reaching an orgasm. They both tried to avoid looking at Granger whenever possible, yet they were drawn to her. Once, they had bumped into each other while following her in the library. Pansy’s eyes, dark with lust, reminded Draco of Hermione’s. They quickly moved to the back of the library and shagged silently against a wall. It took all his will power not to drag the Gryffindor along.
He shook his head in reply, but it was unnecessary. Lucius Malfoy had impeccable handwriting, but there was no doubt, especially after Pansy had stolen some of Granger’s notes that she kept tucked away in her bra, that either could mistake the tiny script that covered not nearly enough of the page.
I’d like to discuss our potions project tomorrow night, in the room of requirement. I believe I have the antidote I was studying. Seven. Bring the object of your desire.
It had no signature and the owl was one that belonged to the school; no one aside from the two Slytherins reading the note would have any idea as to what it pertained to.
“Does that mean me?” Pansy, though she couldn’t believe it, was jealous, not of Hermione being Draco’s “object of desire” but of the idea of them being alone together. More specifically, her being with him when Pansy wanted to be with her.
“That must be what she meant. She wouldn’t say that about herself; maybe it is part of the antidote. I guess we both have to go.”
Pansy had expected him to argue. What if Granger pulled some stunt? What if she had told her friends? He had told Pansy that he hadn’t brought her up in his conversation with Granger. Pansy didn’t know if she should believe the reasons he gave her or not. The more she obsessed over Granger, the more she felt like Draco was the thing standing between them. Apparently he didn’t share the sentiment.
The next day was full of classes for the both of them, but with the prospect of being alone, in a room that others couldn’t get in to, with the object of their lustful desire, was something to be guarded against. They spent the several hours leading up to it shagging, wearing themselves out on his bed, against the wall, on the floor, and even on Zabini’s bead after the mattress fell off his own. With an hour until the meeting, Pansy stepped out to clean herself up and Draco headed for a cold shower.
Part Two