Drinking Buddies Part 2 Draco/Hermione One shot
Monday morning came at a snail’s pace, and when Hermione arrived at the Ministry of Magic she could feel the nervous lump already settle in her throat. After everything that transpired Friday night, she thought she would be able to handle it better, but the entire weekend all she could do was fail to answer question after question as they sprang up like poppies in her head. She wasn’t sure what she and Ron were anymore, and she sure as Hell had no idea what her and Malfoy were, and it took everything in her not to shake as she strolled into the elevator just a moment too late, for when she realized who she had stepped in with her heart did a summersault.
“Ronald…” She nodded politely, taking in his tired expression and blood shot eyes. He chanced a glance at her, and as the elevator doors shut he reached out and scooped her up in a bear hug.
“Merlin’s beard, Mione,” He sighed into her hair, “I thought you were avoiding me.”
“That’s because I am, Ron.” She pushed him off, very thankful that her hair covered up the remnants of teeth marks from Draco’s mouth. “I called up Harry on Sunday. Do you know what he told me?”
“Hermione, let me-”
“He told me that he didn’t have Auror training on Thursday night. That he had no clue you had planned to come over. That in fact, he hadn’t spoken to you until Friday night, when you stalked my house.”
“I wasn’t stalking!” Ron’s chest puffed out in defense. “I came by to check on you. I didn’t see you leave that night, so I thought maybe you went home sick or…”
“Where were you Thursday?” Hermione’s voice was grave and full of contempt. Ron opened his mouth to speak, shut it, opened it again, and settled on sighing.
“Lavender and I just had drinks. I promise. I swear on Merlin himself that’s all it was….Bloody Hell, Hermione, don’t look at me like I cheated on you!”
But the elevator had already stopped, and Hermione was quick to exit. She could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment, with contempt, with the realization that all the guilt she had been holding in all weekend was for nothing, because when it came down to it, Ronald had lied about Lavender Brown from the get-go. Still, the little voice in her head chimed in, did that give her the right to do the things she did with Malfoy?
Malfoy.
Oh God. Would he be at work today? Would he act like nothing at happened? Would he avoid her like she was avoiding Ron? Would he be happy to see her? Relieved? Did he anticipate this as much as she did?
She was just about to push open the double doors to her department when she realized that Ron had followed her out of the elevator and was standing like a wounded puppy behind her. She turned on her heels, eyes like daggers, and crossed her arms. “What, Ronald Weasley?”
“Hermione, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. It was just drinks. I swear it.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb along her wrist. “I didn’t want to tell you because of this reaction right here. But it was nothing scandalous. Lavender’s engaged to some bloke in accounting. I promise, ‘Mione, it wasn’t anything.”
Hermione stared down at his hand, the forgiveness already poised, but then she remembered something she had heard Friday night, even if that something came from Draco Malfoy. “But lying about it. I didn’t feel confident in you. I don’t believe you put my best interest at heart… I…” She withdrew her hand. “I can’t trust you not to lie to me, Ronald.” She turned away, refusing to look at his sullen face and stepped into her office, where she nearly ran smack dab into someone balancing an enormous stack of parchment.
“Oy, watch it!” The man snapped, his face hidden behind the piles of paperwork, but Hermione recognized it instantly and her voice suddenly froze.
‘Sorry.’ It came out in a whisper so small not even she heard it, and she stepped to the side. Draco Malfoy set down his massive load of parchments on top of someone else’s desk, turned to gripe out his assailant, then when he noticed who it was said simply, “Oh. It’s you. Watch where you’re going, Granger. One of those papers nearly poked out one of my beautiful eyes.”
Hermione struggled to- then found her voice, and nodded. “Sorry, Dra-uh… Malfoy.”
A puzzled look came over his face, as if he were processing every syllable of her words, and then he shrugged. “I told you to quit apologizing. Doesn’t suit you.”
“You want help with those?” Hermione offered.
“No.” He gathered up his stack of parchment again and then walked off, once again leaving Hermione to only wonder what was going through that mind-boggling brain of his. She gathered herself up, took a seat quickly at her desk, and waited for him to arrive back at his desk after a time. She wasn’t sure what she should say, or if she should say anything for that matter. By the expression on his face, he was trying his very best to ignore her presence. An hour went by like this, and Hermione couldn’t stand it any longer. She huffed and turned around.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” She asked flatly.
Draco looked up from his work and raised a curious eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I have no idea.” The sarcasm oozed out of her as she lowered her voice. “It’s not like we spent an enjoyable evening together, or at least what I thought as an enjoyable evening, until you just up and-“
“Ho, Granger. Simmer down.” Malfoy interjected. “You’ll make a scene.”
“And so what if I did?” She whispered. “You… you can’t just… just do what you did.”
“And what exactly did I do?” He smirked, setting his quill down. “Please, describe it to me in glorious detail.”
Hermione spun around and searched for some spare parchment. There, while she was sure no one was watching, whispered an incantation upon two pieces of fresh parchment, nonchalantly placed one of them on Draco’s desk, and then began to scribble on her own, watching as the ink disappeared almost as soon as she wrote it. But she knew where it would be going. She heard Malfoy chuckle under his breath, and heard the scribble of his quill.
Words formed on her parchment. ‘I haven’t used spelled parchment notes since Hogwarts.’ The words faded after a moment, leaving Hermione to write again.
‘Why did you leave?’
She waited, and after a few moments, the spell brought her paper to life.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters!’
‘Miss me?’
Hermione’s quill faltered. Then she wrote. ‘Can you be serious for one moment? Talk to me.’
The ink faded into the parchment, and she didn’t receive a message for quite some time. Then…
‘Not now.’
‘When?’
‘Patience, Granger. So anxious to get me alone again?’
After reading and rereading the words before they faded away, she crumbled up the parchment and threw it in the trash. She hoped he watched. The time ticked by dreadfully slow. At lunchtime she received a letter from Ron asking her to meet him and Harry for tacos, but just as her spelled parchment she crumbled up, the letter ended up in the trash. She decided to work through her lunch, and when Malfoy came back from his he sat down a brown paper bag on the edge of her desk, then strolled back to his without a word.
“What’s this?” Hermione turned to look from the paper bag back to him.
“You know, for some reason I thought you’d be able to identify food when you saw it. Silly me. Guess I shouldn’t give you that much credit.” He nudged at the bag for her to open it, which revealed a box of chow Mein and a spring roll. “It’s not poisoned. Too many witnesses for that.”
Hermione smiled softly. “Thank you.”
He nodded as he took the compliment and went back to his work, where he stayed busy for a good portion of the afternoon. Hermione finished her food leisurely, surprised by Draco’s kind gesture. As the evening hours rolled in, Hermione’s shift was coming to an end. She knew Malfoy would have a few more hours, so after she clocked out she walked back over to their corner of the office and settled against the edge of his desk. The majority of the other coworkers had already left, leaving them and two others on the far side of the room.
“Why did you walk out on me?” She asked, arms crossed, eyes set on his face. He tried to pretend to busily scribble on a parchment, but she brushed her leg against his arm and caught his attention. “Tell me.”
“Does it matter?” He said dully, trailing his eyes from her leg, up her skirt and to her face. “You had fun, right?”
Hermione’s eyes grew wider and she struggled to keep her composure. She coughed, uncrossed her arms, and set a small piece of folded paper down in front of him. “If you don’t have plans tonight, I’d like to invite you to dinner.”
“Dinner?” He scoffed. “With you?”
“Oh, don’t make it sound like its torture. You have a choice. You can… go home. Drink. End up on the front page of tomorrow’s Prophet, or… you can come eat spaghetti with me, drink, and we can talk about what happened on Friday. Your choice. My address is on the note.” Hermione stood up and straightened out her skirt. “If you decide to come, I like red wine. And you should know I don’t care much for flowers. Dinner is at eight.” She sauntered away from him then, only pausing to gather up a few files she needed to sort through at home before she made her way through the double doors, a smirk plastered across her pretty face.
_ _ _
Eight o’clock drew steadily near, and Hermione already had her spaghetti noodles boiling when she went to pick out something to wear. Nothing too suggestive, because she didn’t want to scare him off, but nothing too relaxed that said I like to wear stained shirts to dinner with friends. Or coworkers. Or… whatever they were. She settled on a blue polo shirt of hers and her favorite cargo shorts. She went back into the kitchen and had just decided that he might not come at all when there was a faint knock at the door.
She held herself back from rushing across the house, ran her fingers through her hair to settle it, and did her best casual walk across the house to open the door. What she saw she was not prepared for: in her entryway stood Draco Malfoy, no longer in his robes or his work button up, but in a casual grey t-shirt that clung nicely around his slender frame, wearing normal canvas pants and dare she even say, casual shoes. It sent her head spinning. In his hand was a bottle of wine, the other hand tucked neatly behind his back. He had a mixed look of frustration, agitation, and relief at seeing her face.
“You showed.” She stated.
“I know, I’m just as surprised myself.” He shoved the wine into her hands and strolled into her house. “Small place.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and shut the door. “Well, since it’s just me, I don’t think it’s that small.”
“Weasley doesn’t have his own closet space by now?”
She sighed. “I’d rather not talk about Ronald at the moment.” He nodded, revealing his other hand. In it was a book. A thick one, with leather binding that appeared to be very new. Hermione stared at it. “What’s… what’s this?”
“You said you hated flowers. Thought this might be a bit more up your alley.” He sat the book in her hand, took the wine out of her other, and watched as she carefully traced her fingers over the title. A History Of Wizards and Witches of the Middle Ages. “I don’t care much for history, but this always kept my attention. And before you say you can’t take it, you can. I had two copies. So do close that hanging jaw of yours. You’ll let the flies in.”
Hermione closed her mouth slowly, a faint smile tickling the lines of her face. “That was very nice of you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“To be honest… I am a little. -Oh, the food!” She placed the book back in his hand, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran over to strain her spaghetti noodles. “You can put the book and wine on the counter. Dinner should be ready in five minutes.”
Silently, Draco did what he was told, settling in on the stool under the island counter and watching her prepare. Hermione felt his eyes on her every moment, from the time she mixed the spaghetti with the sauce, to her dishing it out and settling it in front of him, to where she spelled wine glasses down from the top of her refrigerator and idly sat across from him as the wine bottle poured itself. They ate in silence, occasionally talking about work or how good the food was, until they had both had two plates full and a good glass of wine each. As the dishes loaded themselves into the dishwasher, Draco watched like he had never seen something so odd. “Muggle things are so unusual.”
He poured them both another glass of wine, this time manually and without magic, and scooted his stool closer to hers, on the same side of the counter. Hermione saw her opportunity, and asked, “So… about Friday night…”
“Really?” He groaned, taking a swig of his wine. “Are we really going to go into this right now?”
“Why not?” She glared. “Malfoy, you left me with a lot of unanswered questions, and I am not a witch that likes to be toyed with. So I demand to know why you walked out on me.”
Draco traced his fingers around the edge of his wine glass, as if somewhere deep in that burgundy liquid would reveal his answers. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and deflected. “How are things with you and Weasley?”
“With Ron and I?” She leaned closer, aware that he pulled back as she did so. “I… I don’t know. I found out he did a lot more lying than he led on. I’m not talking to him at the moment.” His eyes turned sideways to meet hers. “What does that have to do with you walking out on me? Are… are you jealous?”
He raised a superior eyebrow. “Jealous? Of what? Of a red headed dolt who doesn’t know the difference between a toilet brush and a hair brush? I think not.” He pulled from his wine, tearing away from her gaze.
“Then what…?”
“You want to know the real reason, Granger? Why I didn’t feel like going through with last night? Because it didn’t mean anything, did it?” He forced his eyes to look elsewhere, anywhere else but on hers. “Because when all is said and done, the dream couple will never split up, and I truly didn’t feel like being someone’s inglorious regret.”
“You think I regret what we did?” Her eyebrows laced together in concern.
“If we had done what I would have liked, you would have.” He tucked his face low, as if embarrassed. Hermione didn’t think Draco Malfoy had a side that could feel humiliation. She didn’t like the way it played on his face. “Face it, Granger. You fooled around with me to get back at your carrot topped oaf.”
“I did not.” Hermione slammed her hand down on the table. “No I did not at all!”
“Of course you did. You were drunk, and so was I, and while I find your presence a little more tolerable now than back in school, it doesn’t mean that anything we did was anything special. You were hurt, and I was drunk and…” He put his face in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. Then he looked to her. “We’re drinking buddies. We get drunk, we swap stories, we might end up getting a bit too handsie. So, whatever guilt your feeling, whatever way you’ve had to talk yourself into telling yourself that Friday night was okay and that you didn’t cheat on your precious Weasley with me… just…” He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Just… it was my drunken mess. You don’t need to feel guilty over it.” His thumb brushed her skin, coaxing her. “You don’t need to talk to me at work. And you most certainly don’t need to cook me dinner.” He removed his hand and went back to drinking. “It was a drunken mistake. And you don’t need to do kind gestures because you feel guilty.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” She frowned, a hand falling on his. He glanced at it, decided it was alright for the moment, and chugged down the rest of his wine. “I’m not. I… I don’t feel guilty.”
He did another sideways glance.
“I don’t.” She assured him. “Do you?”
His next words were crisp, cutting. “I won’t play third wheel to your relationship with Weasley. I’m not here to comfort you when he screws up.”
“I… It wasn’t comfort.” She removed his wine glass from his hand, turned him towards her, and leaned forward. “Are you seriously trying to watch out for my feelings right now? If you honestly think that the only reason I let you put your hands on me the way you did was out of some drunken exhilaration to get back at Ronald… maybe you should leave.”
She had hoped these words would make him confess her wrong, but when he made to stand up she realized she had made a terrible mistake. She gripped at his arms and shoved him back down into his chair, jumped up out of hers and crawled up into his lap so that she straddled him. She didn’t care that he looked a little less than amused at her on him, and she didn’t care that his arms lay slack against his sides as she cradled her arms around his neck. All she cared about was that his lips were parted, his breathing was labored, and that she could feel his heart pulsing in the veins of his throat. “Granger, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re-“
She sent her lips crashing down on his, relishing in the flavor of the wine on his tongue mixed with the garlic of the spaghetti they had eaten. He groaned into her mouth much like the way he had the first time they had kissed, only this time it was Hermione to push her tongue farther in, eliciting a response from his own tongue as they wrestled for dominance. His hands sprang to life and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer on his lap and rubbing fabric against fabric. They gripped at her back pockets, supported her ass as he suddenly picked her up and in a slightly fumbled fashion carried her to the couch, where he leaned her back and crawled on top of her.
There, his hands explored, tracing the curve of her shoulder and the dip in her stomach, the subtle lines of her legs and finally rubbing at the fabric between them. Hermione whimpered in response, breaking away from the kiss at the sheer pleasure of finally being touched by him again. His fingers massaged the outside of her shorts, delicate little circles, until he had her wriggling beneath him. His mouth never left her body, finding ways to kiss or to suckle or to bite at any bit of skin he could find. But when his hands went to the top of her shorts to undo them, she came to her senses and pushed his hand away.
“No,” She whispered, sitting up and forcing him to do the same.
“Do you remember what happens when you tell me no?” He teased, reaching out to cup a bit of her curly hair. “Do I need to remind you how frustrated I can get?”
She grinned at him, her own hands tracing down the seams of his shirt. “No, Draco.” She purposely purred his name. “But I think if you give me some control right now, you’ll find it very enjoyable.” To her relief, he conceded, leaning back against the couch and not arguing as she pulled his shirt off over his head and crawled once more on his lap. She left lazy kisses on his neck, down his shoulders, biting here and there against the firm skin, then much to his joy she slid lower, off of the couch to rest between his legs. There was no hiding his erection from her; she could see it outlined perfectly through his tight fit pants, which made it that much easier when she undid the button off the top and pulled the zipper down with her teeth.
“Bloody Hell…” He breathed, laying his head back against the headrest of the couch. Hermione watched him close his eyes, thoroughly enjoying himself, and she heaved an inward sigh of relief. He wasn’t bolting, wasn’t trying to find some excuse to leave. He was letting her take full control over him, and the thought alone made her entire body tingle. She trailed her tongue over the pale fabric of his pants, right over his stiffness, and he rolled his hips ever so slightly. He moved to retrieve himself, but Hermione slapped his hand away and licked delicately along the fabric again, and again and again until he was even harder than she thought possible. Then, and only then, did she trail kisses along his stomach as she tucked a hand into his pants and pull his cock out in all its glory. It was longer than she thought it would be, guessing the pants had a part in that, and simply admired it for a moment. He was warm, pulsing in her hand, and the muffled sighs from his mouth gave way that he was practically begging for her to do something with it.
“It’s big…” She whispered to herself, recalling Ron’s average size but slightly larger girth. But Draco’s… it was like perfection.
“Imagine…” He trailed his fingers through her hair and settled a hand delicately on the back of her neck, “How big it would feel… in that pretty mouth.” She could tell it took everything for him not to force her.
“I wonder,” She smirked up at him, “How you taste?” She used his same inflections, his same coy grin, before perching her head just above his pulsing cock. Her tongue trailed just around the head, taking in the salty taste of him and his pre-cum, the silky feel of his flesh. And then she got braver, taking the tip in her mouth, earning a heavy sigh from Draco.
“Fuck’s sake… That’s it. Take it, Granger. Just like that.” He muttered as she slid her mouth further and further down his cock, until it hit the back of her throat. The first time caught her off guard, so she slid back up, trailing her tongue along the shaft as she went, and swirled her tongue over the head again before diving down much quicker, pushing the limits of her throat as she felt herself swallow the head. Draco’s grip on her neck tightened, and his other hand fisted a handful of curls. “Merlin! You suck people off as a side job? Ah… that’s it. Good girl. Take it all.” Hermione held her head down as long as she could, relishing in the feel of his cock so deep in her throat, until she finally had to come up for air to breathe. She teased him a little more, licking up and down his shaft, playing with the sensitive skin at the head until she caught her breath, then she took him in again, slower this time, then up and then back down, each time taking a bit more of him in. She felt his cock twitch when she went down a final time and took every single bit of his length in. “Gonna… make me…” He was gentle with her, rolling his hips ever so slightly, angling his dick father in her throat. Hermione thought he might come right then and there, and she would have loved it, but he pulled her off of him at the last moment and dragged her head up into a long, passionate, sensual kiss. When he broke it, he whispered, “Not yet.”
Hermione nodded, understanding, and kissed him gently, settling back in on his lap, his cock still exposed and now pressing up against her shorts. The feel of him, there, underneath her with just a pair of pants between them made her even wetter than she already was.
“Tell me,” Draco whispered, “Where did you learn to do that?”
Hermione felt her cheeks burn when she answered. “Books are our friends, Malfoy.”
He chuckled, tugging up her shirt without hesitation. “Yes, in this case I’d say they are…” He whipped her shirt off over her head, threw it across the floor, and with the same quick motion removed her bra, this time not bothering to ask if it was okay, because he already knew his answer. Hermione felt free like this, being looked over as a beautiful object to be admired. She watched as Draco leaned back on the sofa, staring at her in all of her grandeur, and made a pleased sound. “To think, underneath all of those ugly trifles you lay claim to as shirts, there’s this waiting underneath.” He reached up and cupped one of her breasts, kneading it thoughtfully. “It really is a sin covering it up.”
“Draco, I- I need you to know something,” She said, placing a hand on his wrist.
He pouted his lip. “Do you?”
“I need you to know I want this.” Brown eyes found blue ones. “You’re not a third wheel. As of this moment, you’re the first.”
A grin played across his lips. “Am I?” He leaned forward and licked across her bare breast still cupped within his palm. “And how bad do you want this?”
“As bad as you want me.”
“Not convinced.” He rubbed his lips against her nipple, teasingly grabbing it between his teeth and tugging. “Convince me.”
“H-How?”
He thought about it. “Go to your room, take off your clothes, and wait for me. Think you can manage that?”
Hermione nodded. He released her, watching as she gathered what composure she could to walk towards the door left to the kitchen and step inside. She felt in a daydream as she skirted off her shorts and underwear, noticing the trail of wetness between her legs. This was not at all what she had anticipated when she had invited Malfoy to dinner. A conversation, maybe. A heart to heart. But this, crawling onto her bed and sitting patiently to wait to be ravaged by him… this was so much better. She pulled her hair back to cool her neck, breasts exposed to the night air, and felt much like a deity waiting to be worshiped. It was spectacular.
Except when he didn’t come immediately behind her. She waited, seated on her knees on her queen size comforter, and as the seconds ticked by, so did the buildup of frustration between her thighs. Minutes passed, and she grew even more frustrated. She was so desperate for touch that she almost let her hand slip down, but she remembered the command to wait and did so. Just when she was all but pent up on frustration, she saw his silhouette in the doorway.
“Good girl,” He cooed. “Now be a good little Granger and turn around.”
“What? But I need-“
“Convince me you need it. Listen to me and turn around.” Hermione muttered beneath her breath, but did what she was told and scooted so that she faced the wall. The weight shifted on the bed, and then his hands were on her thighs, his breath hitched in the curve of her neck. “You’re shaking, love. Something wrong?”
Hermione didn’t know which was worse: the fact that she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, or the fact that Draco calling her ‘love’ sent a heat wave through her to the core of her lower abdomen. She shook her head to answer him because she couldn’t find words. They were something of a fleeting idea.
“Who do you belong to?”
Oh, God. How was she going to answer him? She struggled to find her voice, which had been left somewhere when he had called her love, until she spent so much time on an answer that he asked again.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Y-You, Draco.”
He kissed her cheek, sensual. “And do you know what I do to things that belong to me?”
Hermione shuddered. “Filthy th-things?”
“She catches on quickly… I’m going to enjoy this.” He pushed her down headfirst into the pillows, leaving her ass up and exposed to him. There was a pause, where he said nothing, only admiring her as she closed her eyes and anticipated what would come next. Then his nails raked across her back, softly at first, then harder. It sent a burning sensation down Hermione’s spine. She gasped in response, gripping the bedsheets. She could feel his warm hands trace sensual patterns down her hips, her thighs, and then just at the inner most part of her legs where her body begged his presence. He spread her legs and outlined delicately over her wet slit with his fingers. “You’re soaking wet.” Then, without a word, he slid his middle finger into her and made her grasp at the bedding. “Ooh, someone likes. But you’ve been a bad girl, Granger. Haven’t you? Tell me how bad you’ve been.”
“I… I’ve been bad,” Hermione agreed as he glided his finger out of her, holding it just at the end so that she wiggled under his touch for him to stick it back in again, “So, so bad. I’ve been-”
“A filthy girl. Such a bad little pet you’ve been. Maybe I should teach you a lesson for telling me no on the sofa? Would you like a punishment, my beautiful little vixen?”
Every word was like a vibrating layer of heat that cascaded over Hermione’s skin. Ron’s idea of ‘dirty talk’ consisted of a few vulgarities and swear words, pointing out the obvious but never demanding anything or asking anything of her. Draco’s words didn’t even have to be obscene; he could simply string them together so that they sounded like a symphony no matter how direct.
She decided that if he could play this role, this overpowering master, she could at the least act her part. She nodded in response. “Good girl…” He purred, pulling her up and then over his lap, so that her stomach splayed across his erection-and oh God, she thought, he wasn’t wearing pants. There was nothing to separate them as he pressed against her, the warmth of him sending her nerves into a frenzy. His left hand rested gently against the curve of her buttocks, the other tucked sensitively under her jaw, holding her head in place.
“How many times did you fantasize about me this weekend? Once?” He smacked her ass hard and electrified the room. Or at least, that’s how Hermione saw it. Jolts of pain ricocheted up her spine. “Twice?” Another hard blow. His fingers around her throat braced her as she winced forward automatically. “Did you touch yourself? Did you come?” Over and over again he paddled her with his palm, sometimes alternating between the two cheeks but favoring the left in particular until it was raw and pink. Hermione’s head fell forward and pressed her neck further into his hands, where he then laced his fingers harder around the skin. She was shaking; she could feel it, but it didn’t stop him from landing one last slap to her cheek to make her cry out. Then he released her throat, leaned over, and gave her cheek a gentle kiss. “What a good girl you are. You took your punishment so well. You deserve a reward.” And then his fingers were in her, pumping and pressing and searching for all of her vulnerabilities in this new found position. Hermione gasped into his hand, and he clasped it around her mouth to silence her as she mewled and moaned at his ministrations. He continued to roll his fingers into her, even when she wriggled from the pleasure and she thought she might surely faint. He slowed down eventually, rubbing her clit with his thumb and whispering dirty things to her in the middle of the darkened room. “I could listen to you scream all night.” “Merlin, you’ve no idea how beautiful you sound.” “I bet I could make you come, just like this, you’re so tight…” The hand on her mouth loosened its grip, and he took to pushing two fingers into her mouth, timing them in and out with his other hand until he found a steady rhythm. She could feel herself closing in on her orgasm, and her breathing became shallow. She was almost there, almost on the verge, and Heaven’s bells if it didn’t feel like all of her sins were being confessed to Draco in each moan that escaped her lips. Just as she was about to be sent over the edge, Draco removed his fingers and chuckled softly above her.
“Oh no. Did you think it would be that easy?” He mocked her, tracing his slick fingers down her spine and leaving a warm breath on her shoulder as he spoke. “What do you want, Granger?” His voice changed conviction, going from a sultry pain-pleasure delegator to back to a simple man with simple wants. He ushered her up to sit on his lap, draping her legs on either side of him. She wove her arms around his neck, head still in a fog, and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She muttered out her response, but he pretended not to hear it, so she said it again.
“You. I want you.” Hermione felt helpless as she spoke. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want, just…”
He nudged his lips against her ear. “Are you sure?” And she knew he was sincerely asking. Her brain struggled to sift reality from fantasy, want from need, right from wrong. On the one hand, this was something so new and delicate, she wondered if diving into it head first would have unforeseen consequences. Draco Malfoy was a dangerous man, a man with selfish tendencies and a lavish appetite for the here and now. She didn’t know what his temperament would be once he got his way. Not to mention that the thought of looking Ron or Harry in the eyes afterwards was discouraging. But on the other hand, which weighed much heavier, she wondered how she would feel if she said no. Could she honestly let herself go on with her pent-up sexual aggression? Could she walk into work tomorrow, having not explored her desires, and ever work next to the mind-altering man, who cradled her so gently in his hands, again?
“I’m sure.” She raised her head and caught his silver-blue eyes staring intently down at her. There was something written there, in those eyes. A sense of… anxiousness mixed with surprise. But it was a fleeting expression, and was gone within another second. It was replaced with a glaze of lust and a hint of a smirk.
“Lay back.” He demanded. And so she did, legs still wrapped around his slender frame as her head hit the pillows. Her curls tickled her neck and shoulders as she closed her eyes and braced herself. She felt his lips ravish her, and he braced his hardness against her thigh, drawing the moment out. Hermione groaned in protest. No, she wanted him now. She couldn’t do this. She reached down, taking him firmly in her slender hand, and slid the tip against her wetness.
“Now.” She growled, reaching up and tugging a bit of his blonde hair. “I need it now-”
He rolled into her, giving her no moment to think, to breathe, to prepare for him as he filled her up to the brim, stretching her in ways she could have only lusted for, filling her universe with him and only him. His breathing hitched as he took in the sensation of her, and Hermione realized (with mild amusement) that he was trying to control himself. Not from coming unhinged, but from driving into her harder, harsher, from taking away every bit of control she might have. Instead, he pressed his chest against hers, closing in every bit of extra space between their skins, fitting them together like two jigsaw pieces. He dipped his head forwards and kissed her just as gentle, making sure to take the time to caress her tongue with his. Then, and only then, did he remove himself to the very tip at a painfully slow pace and ram back into her again.
“Fuck…” He sighed into her mouth, pumping into her once more. “So… wet…” His rhythm was slow, his thrusts hard, building Hermione up and causing a craving in her that she couldn’t control. Her hands racked over his back, his shoulders, his hips as she tried desperately to find solitude in touching him. Every time he slipped back in was deeper, harder, much more. It was like he was pouring himself into each and every thrust.
“Draco…” She moaned quietly, fisting his hair. “I need… harder…”
He obliged, picking up speed so that he could slam into her with more weight and make her eyes close tight from the force. He took her legs and pulled them over his shoulders, angling himself deep within her, pulling out from her each time a groan, a whimper, a sigh at each and every thrust. Hermione bit her lower lip and cried out when his hand reached down to draw circles with his fingers on her clit.
“God!” She gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. “Right there… Yes…”
“Say it.”
Hermione all but shouted, “Draco.”
His fingers pulled away and he withdrew from her, Hermione a bundle of nerves as she lay there confused. That was, until he rolled her over to her side and primed one leg over his shoulder, the other splayed out across the bed and shoved his hard, sure cock back into her. A hand reached up and cupped her breast as he worked himself deep in and out of her, rolling his hips in time with her labored breathing, letting her come undone beneath him. She imagined how she must look, sprawled out underneath him, pink tinted cheeks and rosy red lips pursed in an ‘Oh’ as he slammed harder and harder into her. The thought was every bit as exciting as the actual act.
“You want to show me how you ride a cock, Granger?” He teased, slowing down his hips and becoming much gentler.
Hermione nodded willfully, and he fell back against the bed to let her gather her wits and climb on top. His cock was so shiny, slick with her wetness, and with his arms behind his head like that, he looked like a demi-god that awaited his sacrifice. Hermione vowed, that moment, that she would unravel that insatiable smirk of his.
“You want me to ride you?” She teased, turning her body away from him and placing herself on all fours to present herself to him like a prize he had to earn. “Is that what you want, Draco?”
He reached down and ran his fingers over his length, holding it upright and ready for her. One hand was still tucked behind his head, and Hermione knew that just wouldn’t do. She sat up, back still to him, and perched herself directly above him, the head brushing gently against the wet lips between her legs. She felt him roll his hips up to push into her, but she pulled up farther, just out of his reach. It was heavenly to hear the frustrated groan in his throat.
“Beg me for it,” She said as she bunched her hair back to expose her slender neck, “Beg me to sit on your cock.”
“Bloody Hell…” Draco growled. “That’s my game.” He slipped his other hand, the one that was tucked so smugly behind his head, and traced his nails down her back before settling his palm against her hip. “If you were anyone else…”
“Beg.”
She heard him sigh. “Please…” He hissed.
“Please what?”
There was a pause, no doubt him struggling with his inner consciousness, and then begrudgingly the words came. “Please, Hermione. I… I need it. Don’t make me wait.” It was sincere, angry, but most definitely begging. She grinned to herself as she slipped down onto him, taking all of him in one quick movement, eliciting a string of obscenities from his mouth. “Holy fucking shit, fuck me, Jesus-Christ…” He gripped a fistful of her hair and tugged her head back, arching her whole body. “Good girl. Ride me, that’s it…”
Hermione did as she was told, rolling her hips to take him in and out of her. She found a pleasing angle where his cock hit her in just the right way to make her scream. He liked it, the sound of her screaming, because when he noticed he angled his cock even farther inside of her and gripped her hips tight with his hand that wasn’t fisting her curls. “Draco…”
“Yes…”
“Draco!”
“Say it.”
“Draco fucking Malfoy…” Hermione felt the inside of her begin to tighten. The buildup drove her to the point of bobbing up and down on him, her breasts bouncing to each thrust, her body so completely free and liberated… She came in a quiet moan as all of her breathing stopped momentarily to bask in the sweet relief. He let her slow down until she could no longer think to move, then rolled his hips up and let her ride out the rest of her orgasm as he fucked her from underneath.
“Again.” He demanded, and turned her around to face him as she sat on his cock, “Come again for me.” Hermione’s heart banged against her ears as he encouraged her to continue rolling her hips back and forth against him, building her up brick by brick. At this angle, she could feel every single inch of him, and when she thought she couldn’t feel anything but the sheer length of him, her lower abdomen burned to tell her to keep going, to fuck him harder and ride his dick to the point of ecstasy. She could hear the whispers of reassurance from him, saying things like, “That’s it, love, ride my dick just like that. You feel me so deep in you? Feel how wet you are? Who are you wet for, Hermione? Who’s making you moan like a little whore?”
“You are…” She gasped, at the tipping point. Her ears flushed, as did her cheeks, and she knew that all he had to do was say one more thing to send her past the brink. He leaned forward, angling his dick at the perfect spot, and whispered, “Come.”
It was all she needed. For the second time, she was thrown into agonizing bliss, her walls contracting around the perfect length of him. He took her shaking body, then, and scooped her up in his arms, hugging her, reassuring her. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, her lips, washing the orgasm away into something else. It was defining. It was endearing. It was kind. A kindness Hermione had never expected from Draco Malfoy. When her orgasm was spent, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and met her eyes with his own.
“You like that?”
She nodded, shocked by the weight of it all. “I… I want you to come.” She reached out and traced his jaw with her thumb. “I want to make you come.” She corrected herself.
He smirked, leaning into her touch. He captured her fingers up with his mouth, suckled them for a moment, and then nodded. “On your hands and knees then, Granger. Like a good girl.”
Her body was still tingling when she rolled off of him and got on her hands and knees across the length of the bed. She felt Draco shift the bed as he sat up, positioning himself behind her. One hand on her pelvis, he steadied himself with the other and slipped into her without a word. When he was deep, he put his other hand delicately on the other side of her pelvis and pushed just a little farther into her, enough to make her gasp.
“Please…” She mumbled, “I want you to come.”
“Then make me.” He pulled out of her to the tip, hands still on her hips and guided her back onto him. Hermione took the hint and repeated the motion, arching her back as she slid backwards onto his oh-so-willing cock. And there she fucked him, knowing that if she could be a fly on the wall she wouldn’t believe her own eyes. Draco Malfoy brought out a piece of her soul she didn’t know she had, a sexual liberation in her that only needed to be stoked to come to life. She got creative, gyrating her hips and loving the gasps and groans from his throat that spilled forth. His grips on her hips tightened, and she could tell he was so close. That’s when he took control, driving himself deep within her, over and over, swearing and clawing until he pulled himself out of her and came undone atop her glorious backside, warm and dripping. “Fuck…” He whispered, spilling the last of his come on her. Hermione moaned quietly, feeling much like a sexual goddess and at the same time also like a deviant who was used for more than nothing but a good ride. It all was so wonderful, she fell forward onto the bed and closed her eyes, smiling. She felt his weight shift, and before she knew it, he was lying beside her, breathing labored, body spent.
She managed to turn her head to look at him only to find him already peering over at her. His chest heaved up and down. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were pensive. Slowly, he reached over and cupped her cheek with his palm. “That was…”
“Yeah.” Hermione nodded in agreement. She scooted closer to him, turning her body to face his, and kissed him thoughtfully. “It was.”
His thumb continued to draw up and down her jawline as he studied her like a painting, observing every line, every curve, and every color of her face. “What have you done to me?”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed. She was going to find an answer to that glorious question, she really was, but there was a faint knock from the front door that dulled the moment. Her heart leapt in her chest as she stirred herself from the bed. “Hold that thought,” She whispered and ran to her closet. She slipped on a cotton bathrobe, so very much aware that she still wore his cum on her, and padded out of the bedroom and towards the front door. She chanced a look in the mirror hanging between her living room and the hallway towards the bedroom and hardly recognized who stared back at her. Who was that women, there, with her sultry brown eyes and beautifully parted lips? Where was the barely-sexual child that she had always resembled? What had Draco done to her?
She attempted to fix her misshapen hair and turned the doorknob. A woman stared at back at her, wrapped in a pea-coat, mud covered leggings and goulashes. A woman by the name of Lavender Brown.
“Hermione, can we talk?” She asked as she shook out a dripping umbrella in her hands. Had it been raining? Hermione hadn’t noticed. Her mind had been on… other things. She leaned against the door and frowned.
“About what?”
“What do you think? About Ron.” Lavender’s guilt-written eyes rested gently on Hermione. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t realize you two were dating, and when I asked him out to drinks I didn’t mean to-”
“What are you sorry for?” Hermione perched up an eyebrow much the way that Draco would. “It was just drinks, right?”
“I… I wasn’t sure what he told you about Thursday…” Lavender fiddled with the handle of her umbrella, nervous. “Honestly, Hermione, I would have never kissed him if I had known-”
“You kissed him.” Hermione repeated back, knowing she should be more upset. Her voice barely rose above a conversational volume. “Huh. Well… that’s news.”
“I… you… you don’t seem mad.” Lavender pointed out as she chewed on her bottom lip. “But judging by your face I assume Ron didn’t tell you.”
“No, he didn’t.” Her voice shook slightly. She furrowed her eyebrows together, thinking. “Thank you, Lavender. For telling me.”
“He didn’t kiss back,” Said Lavender, as if that very point would make it less of a blow, “And he felt awful about it. I could tell.”
“He didn’t tell me he was going to get drinks with you,” Hermione said as she fixed her robe tighter around her. “He kept that part completely hidden from me until I bullied it out of him.”
“Did he?” Lavender said nervously. “I am so sorry, Hermione…. I get that we weren’t the best of friends in Hogwarts, but I do mean it when I say I never meant to hurt you or your relationship-”
“It’s alright. Really.” Hermione interjected. “He should have told you he had a girlfriend in the first place.”
“I hope I didn’t ruin it for you two.”
“You didn’t.” Hermione smiled, encouraging. “He did. -Goodnight, Lavender. See you around work.” And then she closed the door on Lavender’s face, a faint smile tracing the outlines of her mouth.
When she turned around she saw Draco standing at the edge of the kitchen, his pants already back on but his chest bare. He held out a glass of water to her, and she gladly crossed the room and chugged the entire glass in one go. When she was done, she sat it down on the counter next to her and caught him staring at her.
“What?”
“Everything alright?” He asked, nudging towards the door. “Rather late visitor.”
“It was nothing.” Hermione shook her head.
“Didn’t sound like it was nothing.”
Hermione tossed the conversation around in her head, deciding if she were upset or not. After a time, she spoke. “I can’t trust Ronald. I don’t think he set out to hurt me, but I know that I can’t feel comfortable with his word.”
“Is it worth throwing all of that away over a lie?” Draco asked. She could tell he was careful with his inflections, attempting not to sound too eager for an answer one way or the other. She ran a hand down his arm, laced her fingers with his, and watched as he furrowed his eyebrows at her, confused. She then perched herself on her tip-toes and landed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“The right lie can end anything.” She said the words as a warning, then kissed his mouth, slowly. When she pulled away, she rubbed her nose against his. “I can’t trust him. And trust is probably the most important thing.”
Draco seemed to fight with something deep within him, but it must have won, because he asked, “So… what does one have to do to earn your trust?”
Hermione smiled, set herself down on the flat of her feet, and yawned. “Well, maybe not rushing off after a sexual encounter… that might be a start.”
Draco smirked. “And a shower?”
Hermione smiled. “A shower sounds delightful.”
---
Please leave a review, as it would mean so much to me. Let me know your favorite parts, what you enjoyed the most. Maybe, just maybe, I will add just one more segment.
Lots of love!
Update: I wanted to respond to something someone told me about Hermione's characterization in the story. They pointed out that Hermione basically cheated on Ron, and it was WILDLY out of charcter (according to them). They said it was nothing like Hermione from the books. I would like to say -this isn't Hermione in Hogwarts. This is Hermione, 2+ years after the War, after graduating, after experiencing sex, love, and growing into her ways. I think she knew things with Ron were already heading south, and Ron, though not physically cheating, emotionally cheated when he lied about where he was going Thursday night. Maybe her silent treatment wasn't read correctly, but I tried to infer that she basically was calling it quits with Ron by telling him 'I can't trust you.' Anyways, just wanted to point out where I was coming from. <3
“Ronald…” She nodded politely, taking in his tired expression and blood shot eyes. He chanced a glance at her, and as the elevator doors shut he reached out and scooped her up in a bear hug.
“Merlin’s beard, Mione,” He sighed into her hair, “I thought you were avoiding me.”
“That’s because I am, Ron.” She pushed him off, very thankful that her hair covered up the remnants of teeth marks from Draco’s mouth. “I called up Harry on Sunday. Do you know what he told me?”
“Hermione, let me-”
“He told me that he didn’t have Auror training on Thursday night. That he had no clue you had planned to come over. That in fact, he hadn’t spoken to you until Friday night, when you stalked my house.”
“I wasn’t stalking!” Ron’s chest puffed out in defense. “I came by to check on you. I didn’t see you leave that night, so I thought maybe you went home sick or…”
“Where were you Thursday?” Hermione’s voice was grave and full of contempt. Ron opened his mouth to speak, shut it, opened it again, and settled on sighing.
“Lavender and I just had drinks. I promise. I swear on Merlin himself that’s all it was….Bloody Hell, Hermione, don’t look at me like I cheated on you!”
But the elevator had already stopped, and Hermione was quick to exit. She could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment, with contempt, with the realization that all the guilt she had been holding in all weekend was for nothing, because when it came down to it, Ronald had lied about Lavender Brown from the get-go. Still, the little voice in her head chimed in, did that give her the right to do the things she did with Malfoy?
Malfoy.
Oh God. Would he be at work today? Would he act like nothing at happened? Would he avoid her like she was avoiding Ron? Would he be happy to see her? Relieved? Did he anticipate this as much as she did?
She was just about to push open the double doors to her department when she realized that Ron had followed her out of the elevator and was standing like a wounded puppy behind her. She turned on her heels, eyes like daggers, and crossed her arms. “What, Ronald Weasley?”
“Hermione, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt us. It was just drinks. I swear it.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb along her wrist. “I didn’t want to tell you because of this reaction right here. But it was nothing scandalous. Lavender’s engaged to some bloke in accounting. I promise, ‘Mione, it wasn’t anything.”
Hermione stared down at his hand, the forgiveness already poised, but then she remembered something she had heard Friday night, even if that something came from Draco Malfoy. “But lying about it. I didn’t feel confident in you. I don’t believe you put my best interest at heart… I…” She withdrew her hand. “I can’t trust you not to lie to me, Ronald.” She turned away, refusing to look at his sullen face and stepped into her office, where she nearly ran smack dab into someone balancing an enormous stack of parchment.
“Oy, watch it!” The man snapped, his face hidden behind the piles of paperwork, but Hermione recognized it instantly and her voice suddenly froze.
‘Sorry.’ It came out in a whisper so small not even she heard it, and she stepped to the side. Draco Malfoy set down his massive load of parchments on top of someone else’s desk, turned to gripe out his assailant, then when he noticed who it was said simply, “Oh. It’s you. Watch where you’re going, Granger. One of those papers nearly poked out one of my beautiful eyes.”
Hermione struggled to- then found her voice, and nodded. “Sorry, Dra-uh… Malfoy.”
A puzzled look came over his face, as if he were processing every syllable of her words, and then he shrugged. “I told you to quit apologizing. Doesn’t suit you.”
“You want help with those?” Hermione offered.
“No.” He gathered up his stack of parchment again and then walked off, once again leaving Hermione to only wonder what was going through that mind-boggling brain of his. She gathered herself up, took a seat quickly at her desk, and waited for him to arrive back at his desk after a time. She wasn’t sure what she should say, or if she should say anything for that matter. By the expression on his face, he was trying his very best to ignore her presence. An hour went by like this, and Hermione couldn’t stand it any longer. She huffed and turned around.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” She asked flatly.
Draco looked up from his work and raised a curious eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I have no idea.” The sarcasm oozed out of her as she lowered her voice. “It’s not like we spent an enjoyable evening together, or at least what I thought as an enjoyable evening, until you just up and-“
“Ho, Granger. Simmer down.” Malfoy interjected. “You’ll make a scene.”
“And so what if I did?” She whispered. “You… you can’t just… just do what you did.”
“And what exactly did I do?” He smirked, setting his quill down. “Please, describe it to me in glorious detail.”
Hermione spun around and searched for some spare parchment. There, while she was sure no one was watching, whispered an incantation upon two pieces of fresh parchment, nonchalantly placed one of them on Draco’s desk, and then began to scribble on her own, watching as the ink disappeared almost as soon as she wrote it. But she knew where it would be going. She heard Malfoy chuckle under his breath, and heard the scribble of his quill.
Words formed on her parchment. ‘I haven’t used spelled parchment notes since Hogwarts.’ The words faded after a moment, leaving Hermione to write again.
‘Why did you leave?’
She waited, and after a few moments, the spell brought her paper to life.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters!’
‘Miss me?’
Hermione’s quill faltered. Then she wrote. ‘Can you be serious for one moment? Talk to me.’
The ink faded into the parchment, and she didn’t receive a message for quite some time. Then…
‘Not now.’
‘When?’
‘Patience, Granger. So anxious to get me alone again?’
After reading and rereading the words before they faded away, she crumbled up the parchment and threw it in the trash. She hoped he watched. The time ticked by dreadfully slow. At lunchtime she received a letter from Ron asking her to meet him and Harry for tacos, but just as her spelled parchment she crumbled up, the letter ended up in the trash. She decided to work through her lunch, and when Malfoy came back from his he sat down a brown paper bag on the edge of her desk, then strolled back to his without a word.
“What’s this?” Hermione turned to look from the paper bag back to him.
“You know, for some reason I thought you’d be able to identify food when you saw it. Silly me. Guess I shouldn’t give you that much credit.” He nudged at the bag for her to open it, which revealed a box of chow Mein and a spring roll. “It’s not poisoned. Too many witnesses for that.”
Hermione smiled softly. “Thank you.”
He nodded as he took the compliment and went back to his work, where he stayed busy for a good portion of the afternoon. Hermione finished her food leisurely, surprised by Draco’s kind gesture. As the evening hours rolled in, Hermione’s shift was coming to an end. She knew Malfoy would have a few more hours, so after she clocked out she walked back over to their corner of the office and settled against the edge of his desk. The majority of the other coworkers had already left, leaving them and two others on the far side of the room.
“Why did you walk out on me?” She asked, arms crossed, eyes set on his face. He tried to pretend to busily scribble on a parchment, but she brushed her leg against his arm and caught his attention. “Tell me.”
“Does it matter?” He said dully, trailing his eyes from her leg, up her skirt and to her face. “You had fun, right?”
Hermione’s eyes grew wider and she struggled to keep her composure. She coughed, uncrossed her arms, and set a small piece of folded paper down in front of him. “If you don’t have plans tonight, I’d like to invite you to dinner.”
“Dinner?” He scoffed. “With you?”
“Oh, don’t make it sound like its torture. You have a choice. You can… go home. Drink. End up on the front page of tomorrow’s Prophet, or… you can come eat spaghetti with me, drink, and we can talk about what happened on Friday. Your choice. My address is on the note.” Hermione stood up and straightened out her skirt. “If you decide to come, I like red wine. And you should know I don’t care much for flowers. Dinner is at eight.” She sauntered away from him then, only pausing to gather up a few files she needed to sort through at home before she made her way through the double doors, a smirk plastered across her pretty face.
_ _ _
Eight o’clock drew steadily near, and Hermione already had her spaghetti noodles boiling when she went to pick out something to wear. Nothing too suggestive, because she didn’t want to scare him off, but nothing too relaxed that said I like to wear stained shirts to dinner with friends. Or coworkers. Or… whatever they were. She settled on a blue polo shirt of hers and her favorite cargo shorts. She went back into the kitchen and had just decided that he might not come at all when there was a faint knock at the door.
She held herself back from rushing across the house, ran her fingers through her hair to settle it, and did her best casual walk across the house to open the door. What she saw she was not prepared for: in her entryway stood Draco Malfoy, no longer in his robes or his work button up, but in a casual grey t-shirt that clung nicely around his slender frame, wearing normal canvas pants and dare she even say, casual shoes. It sent her head spinning. In his hand was a bottle of wine, the other hand tucked neatly behind his back. He had a mixed look of frustration, agitation, and relief at seeing her face.
“You showed.” She stated.
“I know, I’m just as surprised myself.” He shoved the wine into her hands and strolled into her house. “Small place.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and shut the door. “Well, since it’s just me, I don’t think it’s that small.”
“Weasley doesn’t have his own closet space by now?”
She sighed. “I’d rather not talk about Ronald at the moment.” He nodded, revealing his other hand. In it was a book. A thick one, with leather binding that appeared to be very new. Hermione stared at it. “What’s… what’s this?”
“You said you hated flowers. Thought this might be a bit more up your alley.” He sat the book in her hand, took the wine out of her other, and watched as she carefully traced her fingers over the title. A History Of Wizards and Witches of the Middle Ages. “I don’t care much for history, but this always kept my attention. And before you say you can’t take it, you can. I had two copies. So do close that hanging jaw of yours. You’ll let the flies in.”
Hermione closed her mouth slowly, a faint smile tickling the lines of her face. “That was very nice of you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“To be honest… I am a little. -Oh, the food!” She placed the book back in his hand, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran over to strain her spaghetti noodles. “You can put the book and wine on the counter. Dinner should be ready in five minutes.”
Silently, Draco did what he was told, settling in on the stool under the island counter and watching her prepare. Hermione felt his eyes on her every moment, from the time she mixed the spaghetti with the sauce, to her dishing it out and settling it in front of him, to where she spelled wine glasses down from the top of her refrigerator and idly sat across from him as the wine bottle poured itself. They ate in silence, occasionally talking about work or how good the food was, until they had both had two plates full and a good glass of wine each. As the dishes loaded themselves into the dishwasher, Draco watched like he had never seen something so odd. “Muggle things are so unusual.”
He poured them both another glass of wine, this time manually and without magic, and scooted his stool closer to hers, on the same side of the counter. Hermione saw her opportunity, and asked, “So… about Friday night…”
“Really?” He groaned, taking a swig of his wine. “Are we really going to go into this right now?”
“Why not?” She glared. “Malfoy, you left me with a lot of unanswered questions, and I am not a witch that likes to be toyed with. So I demand to know why you walked out on me.”
Draco traced his fingers around the edge of his wine glass, as if somewhere deep in that burgundy liquid would reveal his answers. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and deflected. “How are things with you and Weasley?”
“With Ron and I?” She leaned closer, aware that he pulled back as she did so. “I… I don’t know. I found out he did a lot more lying than he led on. I’m not talking to him at the moment.” His eyes turned sideways to meet hers. “What does that have to do with you walking out on me? Are… are you jealous?”
He raised a superior eyebrow. “Jealous? Of what? Of a red headed dolt who doesn’t know the difference between a toilet brush and a hair brush? I think not.” He pulled from his wine, tearing away from her gaze.
“Then what…?”
“You want to know the real reason, Granger? Why I didn’t feel like going through with last night? Because it didn’t mean anything, did it?” He forced his eyes to look elsewhere, anywhere else but on hers. “Because when all is said and done, the dream couple will never split up, and I truly didn’t feel like being someone’s inglorious regret.”
“You think I regret what we did?” Her eyebrows laced together in concern.
“If we had done what I would have liked, you would have.” He tucked his face low, as if embarrassed. Hermione didn’t think Draco Malfoy had a side that could feel humiliation. She didn’t like the way it played on his face. “Face it, Granger. You fooled around with me to get back at your carrot topped oaf.”
“I did not.” Hermione slammed her hand down on the table. “No I did not at all!”
“Of course you did. You were drunk, and so was I, and while I find your presence a little more tolerable now than back in school, it doesn’t mean that anything we did was anything special. You were hurt, and I was drunk and…” He put his face in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. Then he looked to her. “We’re drinking buddies. We get drunk, we swap stories, we might end up getting a bit too handsie. So, whatever guilt your feeling, whatever way you’ve had to talk yourself into telling yourself that Friday night was okay and that you didn’t cheat on your precious Weasley with me… just…” He reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Just… it was my drunken mess. You don’t need to feel guilty over it.” His thumb brushed her skin, coaxing her. “You don’t need to talk to me at work. And you most certainly don’t need to cook me dinner.” He removed his hand and went back to drinking. “It was a drunken mistake. And you don’t need to do kind gestures because you feel guilty.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” She frowned, a hand falling on his. He glanced at it, decided it was alright for the moment, and chugged down the rest of his wine. “I’m not. I… I don’t feel guilty.”
He did another sideways glance.
“I don’t.” She assured him. “Do you?”
His next words were crisp, cutting. “I won’t play third wheel to your relationship with Weasley. I’m not here to comfort you when he screws up.”
“I… It wasn’t comfort.” She removed his wine glass from his hand, turned him towards her, and leaned forward. “Are you seriously trying to watch out for my feelings right now? If you honestly think that the only reason I let you put your hands on me the way you did was out of some drunken exhilaration to get back at Ronald… maybe you should leave.”
She had hoped these words would make him confess her wrong, but when he made to stand up she realized she had made a terrible mistake. She gripped at his arms and shoved him back down into his chair, jumped up out of hers and crawled up into his lap so that she straddled him. She didn’t care that he looked a little less than amused at her on him, and she didn’t care that his arms lay slack against his sides as she cradled her arms around his neck. All she cared about was that his lips were parted, his breathing was labored, and that she could feel his heart pulsing in the veins of his throat. “Granger, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re-“
She sent her lips crashing down on his, relishing in the flavor of the wine on his tongue mixed with the garlic of the spaghetti they had eaten. He groaned into her mouth much like the way he had the first time they had kissed, only this time it was Hermione to push her tongue farther in, eliciting a response from his own tongue as they wrestled for dominance. His hands sprang to life and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer on his lap and rubbing fabric against fabric. They gripped at her back pockets, supported her ass as he suddenly picked her up and in a slightly fumbled fashion carried her to the couch, where he leaned her back and crawled on top of her.
There, his hands explored, tracing the curve of her shoulder and the dip in her stomach, the subtle lines of her legs and finally rubbing at the fabric between them. Hermione whimpered in response, breaking away from the kiss at the sheer pleasure of finally being touched by him again. His fingers massaged the outside of her shorts, delicate little circles, until he had her wriggling beneath him. His mouth never left her body, finding ways to kiss or to suckle or to bite at any bit of skin he could find. But when his hands went to the top of her shorts to undo them, she came to her senses and pushed his hand away.
“No,” She whispered, sitting up and forcing him to do the same.
“Do you remember what happens when you tell me no?” He teased, reaching out to cup a bit of her curly hair. “Do I need to remind you how frustrated I can get?”
She grinned at him, her own hands tracing down the seams of his shirt. “No, Draco.” She purposely purred his name. “But I think if you give me some control right now, you’ll find it very enjoyable.” To her relief, he conceded, leaning back against the couch and not arguing as she pulled his shirt off over his head and crawled once more on his lap. She left lazy kisses on his neck, down his shoulders, biting here and there against the firm skin, then much to his joy she slid lower, off of the couch to rest between his legs. There was no hiding his erection from her; she could see it outlined perfectly through his tight fit pants, which made it that much easier when she undid the button off the top and pulled the zipper down with her teeth.
“Bloody Hell…” He breathed, laying his head back against the headrest of the couch. Hermione watched him close his eyes, thoroughly enjoying himself, and she heaved an inward sigh of relief. He wasn’t bolting, wasn’t trying to find some excuse to leave. He was letting her take full control over him, and the thought alone made her entire body tingle. She trailed her tongue over the pale fabric of his pants, right over his stiffness, and he rolled his hips ever so slightly. He moved to retrieve himself, but Hermione slapped his hand away and licked delicately along the fabric again, and again and again until he was even harder than she thought possible. Then, and only then, did she trail kisses along his stomach as she tucked a hand into his pants and pull his cock out in all its glory. It was longer than she thought it would be, guessing the pants had a part in that, and simply admired it for a moment. He was warm, pulsing in her hand, and the muffled sighs from his mouth gave way that he was practically begging for her to do something with it.
“It’s big…” She whispered to herself, recalling Ron’s average size but slightly larger girth. But Draco’s… it was like perfection.
“Imagine…” He trailed his fingers through her hair and settled a hand delicately on the back of her neck, “How big it would feel… in that pretty mouth.” She could tell it took everything for him not to force her.
“I wonder,” She smirked up at him, “How you taste?” She used his same inflections, his same coy grin, before perching her head just above his pulsing cock. Her tongue trailed just around the head, taking in the salty taste of him and his pre-cum, the silky feel of his flesh. And then she got braver, taking the tip in her mouth, earning a heavy sigh from Draco.
“Fuck’s sake… That’s it. Take it, Granger. Just like that.” He muttered as she slid her mouth further and further down his cock, until it hit the back of her throat. The first time caught her off guard, so she slid back up, trailing her tongue along the shaft as she went, and swirled her tongue over the head again before diving down much quicker, pushing the limits of her throat as she felt herself swallow the head. Draco’s grip on her neck tightened, and his other hand fisted a handful of curls. “Merlin! You suck people off as a side job? Ah… that’s it. Good girl. Take it all.” Hermione held her head down as long as she could, relishing in the feel of his cock so deep in her throat, until she finally had to come up for air to breathe. She teased him a little more, licking up and down his shaft, playing with the sensitive skin at the head until she caught her breath, then she took him in again, slower this time, then up and then back down, each time taking a bit more of him in. She felt his cock twitch when she went down a final time and took every single bit of his length in. “Gonna… make me…” He was gentle with her, rolling his hips ever so slightly, angling his dick father in her throat. Hermione thought he might come right then and there, and she would have loved it, but he pulled her off of him at the last moment and dragged her head up into a long, passionate, sensual kiss. When he broke it, he whispered, “Not yet.”
Hermione nodded, understanding, and kissed him gently, settling back in on his lap, his cock still exposed and now pressing up against her shorts. The feel of him, there, underneath her with just a pair of pants between them made her even wetter than she already was.
“Tell me,” Draco whispered, “Where did you learn to do that?”
Hermione felt her cheeks burn when she answered. “Books are our friends, Malfoy.”
He chuckled, tugging up her shirt without hesitation. “Yes, in this case I’d say they are…” He whipped her shirt off over her head, threw it across the floor, and with the same quick motion removed her bra, this time not bothering to ask if it was okay, because he already knew his answer. Hermione felt free like this, being looked over as a beautiful object to be admired. She watched as Draco leaned back on the sofa, staring at her in all of her grandeur, and made a pleased sound. “To think, underneath all of those ugly trifles you lay claim to as shirts, there’s this waiting underneath.” He reached up and cupped one of her breasts, kneading it thoughtfully. “It really is a sin covering it up.”
“Draco, I- I need you to know something,” She said, placing a hand on his wrist.
He pouted his lip. “Do you?”
“I need you to know I want this.” Brown eyes found blue ones. “You’re not a third wheel. As of this moment, you’re the first.”
A grin played across his lips. “Am I?” He leaned forward and licked across her bare breast still cupped within his palm. “And how bad do you want this?”
“As bad as you want me.”
“Not convinced.” He rubbed his lips against her nipple, teasingly grabbing it between his teeth and tugging. “Convince me.”
“H-How?”
He thought about it. “Go to your room, take off your clothes, and wait for me. Think you can manage that?”
Hermione nodded. He released her, watching as she gathered what composure she could to walk towards the door left to the kitchen and step inside. She felt in a daydream as she skirted off her shorts and underwear, noticing the trail of wetness between her legs. This was not at all what she had anticipated when she had invited Malfoy to dinner. A conversation, maybe. A heart to heart. But this, crawling onto her bed and sitting patiently to wait to be ravaged by him… this was so much better. She pulled her hair back to cool her neck, breasts exposed to the night air, and felt much like a deity waiting to be worshiped. It was spectacular.
Except when he didn’t come immediately behind her. She waited, seated on her knees on her queen size comforter, and as the seconds ticked by, so did the buildup of frustration between her thighs. Minutes passed, and she grew even more frustrated. She was so desperate for touch that she almost let her hand slip down, but she remembered the command to wait and did so. Just when she was all but pent up on frustration, she saw his silhouette in the doorway.
“Good girl,” He cooed. “Now be a good little Granger and turn around.”
“What? But I need-“
“Convince me you need it. Listen to me and turn around.” Hermione muttered beneath her breath, but did what she was told and scooted so that she faced the wall. The weight shifted on the bed, and then his hands were on her thighs, his breath hitched in the curve of her neck. “You’re shaking, love. Something wrong?”
Hermione didn’t know which was worse: the fact that she was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, or the fact that Draco calling her ‘love’ sent a heat wave through her to the core of her lower abdomen. She shook her head to answer him because she couldn’t find words. They were something of a fleeting idea.
“Who do you belong to?”
Oh, God. How was she going to answer him? She struggled to find her voice, which had been left somewhere when he had called her love, until she spent so much time on an answer that he asked again.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Y-You, Draco.”
He kissed her cheek, sensual. “And do you know what I do to things that belong to me?”
Hermione shuddered. “Filthy th-things?”
“She catches on quickly… I’m going to enjoy this.” He pushed her down headfirst into the pillows, leaving her ass up and exposed to him. There was a pause, where he said nothing, only admiring her as she closed her eyes and anticipated what would come next. Then his nails raked across her back, softly at first, then harder. It sent a burning sensation down Hermione’s spine. She gasped in response, gripping the bedsheets. She could feel his warm hands trace sensual patterns down her hips, her thighs, and then just at the inner most part of her legs where her body begged his presence. He spread her legs and outlined delicately over her wet slit with his fingers. “You’re soaking wet.” Then, without a word, he slid his middle finger into her and made her grasp at the bedding. “Ooh, someone likes. But you’ve been a bad girl, Granger. Haven’t you? Tell me how bad you’ve been.”
“I… I’ve been bad,” Hermione agreed as he glided his finger out of her, holding it just at the end so that she wiggled under his touch for him to stick it back in again, “So, so bad. I’ve been-”
“A filthy girl. Such a bad little pet you’ve been. Maybe I should teach you a lesson for telling me no on the sofa? Would you like a punishment, my beautiful little vixen?”
Every word was like a vibrating layer of heat that cascaded over Hermione’s skin. Ron’s idea of ‘dirty talk’ consisted of a few vulgarities and swear words, pointing out the obvious but never demanding anything or asking anything of her. Draco’s words didn’t even have to be obscene; he could simply string them together so that they sounded like a symphony no matter how direct.
She decided that if he could play this role, this overpowering master, she could at the least act her part. She nodded in response. “Good girl…” He purred, pulling her up and then over his lap, so that her stomach splayed across his erection-and oh God, she thought, he wasn’t wearing pants. There was nothing to separate them as he pressed against her, the warmth of him sending her nerves into a frenzy. His left hand rested gently against the curve of her buttocks, the other tucked sensitively under her jaw, holding her head in place.
“How many times did you fantasize about me this weekend? Once?” He smacked her ass hard and electrified the room. Or at least, that’s how Hermione saw it. Jolts of pain ricocheted up her spine. “Twice?” Another hard blow. His fingers around her throat braced her as she winced forward automatically. “Did you touch yourself? Did you come?” Over and over again he paddled her with his palm, sometimes alternating between the two cheeks but favoring the left in particular until it was raw and pink. Hermione’s head fell forward and pressed her neck further into his hands, where he then laced his fingers harder around the skin. She was shaking; she could feel it, but it didn’t stop him from landing one last slap to her cheek to make her cry out. Then he released her throat, leaned over, and gave her cheek a gentle kiss. “What a good girl you are. You took your punishment so well. You deserve a reward.” And then his fingers were in her, pumping and pressing and searching for all of her vulnerabilities in this new found position. Hermione gasped into his hand, and he clasped it around her mouth to silence her as she mewled and moaned at his ministrations. He continued to roll his fingers into her, even when she wriggled from the pleasure and she thought she might surely faint. He slowed down eventually, rubbing her clit with his thumb and whispering dirty things to her in the middle of the darkened room. “I could listen to you scream all night.” “Merlin, you’ve no idea how beautiful you sound.” “I bet I could make you come, just like this, you’re so tight…” The hand on her mouth loosened its grip, and he took to pushing two fingers into her mouth, timing them in and out with his other hand until he found a steady rhythm. She could feel herself closing in on her orgasm, and her breathing became shallow. She was almost there, almost on the verge, and Heaven’s bells if it didn’t feel like all of her sins were being confessed to Draco in each moan that escaped her lips. Just as she was about to be sent over the edge, Draco removed his fingers and chuckled softly above her.
“Oh no. Did you think it would be that easy?” He mocked her, tracing his slick fingers down her spine and leaving a warm breath on her shoulder as he spoke. “What do you want, Granger?” His voice changed conviction, going from a sultry pain-pleasure delegator to back to a simple man with simple wants. He ushered her up to sit on his lap, draping her legs on either side of him. She wove her arms around his neck, head still in a fog, and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She muttered out her response, but he pretended not to hear it, so she said it again.
“You. I want you.” Hermione felt helpless as she spoke. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want, just…”
He nudged his lips against her ear. “Are you sure?” And she knew he was sincerely asking. Her brain struggled to sift reality from fantasy, want from need, right from wrong. On the one hand, this was something so new and delicate, she wondered if diving into it head first would have unforeseen consequences. Draco Malfoy was a dangerous man, a man with selfish tendencies and a lavish appetite for the here and now. She didn’t know what his temperament would be once he got his way. Not to mention that the thought of looking Ron or Harry in the eyes afterwards was discouraging. But on the other hand, which weighed much heavier, she wondered how she would feel if she said no. Could she honestly let herself go on with her pent-up sexual aggression? Could she walk into work tomorrow, having not explored her desires, and ever work next to the mind-altering man, who cradled her so gently in his hands, again?
“I’m sure.” She raised her head and caught his silver-blue eyes staring intently down at her. There was something written there, in those eyes. A sense of… anxiousness mixed with surprise. But it was a fleeting expression, and was gone within another second. It was replaced with a glaze of lust and a hint of a smirk.
“Lay back.” He demanded. And so she did, legs still wrapped around his slender frame as her head hit the pillows. Her curls tickled her neck and shoulders as she closed her eyes and braced herself. She felt his lips ravish her, and he braced his hardness against her thigh, drawing the moment out. Hermione groaned in protest. No, she wanted him now. She couldn’t do this. She reached down, taking him firmly in her slender hand, and slid the tip against her wetness.
“Now.” She growled, reaching up and tugging a bit of his blonde hair. “I need it now-”
He rolled into her, giving her no moment to think, to breathe, to prepare for him as he filled her up to the brim, stretching her in ways she could have only lusted for, filling her universe with him and only him. His breathing hitched as he took in the sensation of her, and Hermione realized (with mild amusement) that he was trying to control himself. Not from coming unhinged, but from driving into her harder, harsher, from taking away every bit of control she might have. Instead, he pressed his chest against hers, closing in every bit of extra space between their skins, fitting them together like two jigsaw pieces. He dipped his head forwards and kissed her just as gentle, making sure to take the time to caress her tongue with his. Then, and only then, did he remove himself to the very tip at a painfully slow pace and ram back into her again.
“Fuck…” He sighed into her mouth, pumping into her once more. “So… wet…” His rhythm was slow, his thrusts hard, building Hermione up and causing a craving in her that she couldn’t control. Her hands racked over his back, his shoulders, his hips as she tried desperately to find solitude in touching him. Every time he slipped back in was deeper, harder, much more. It was like he was pouring himself into each and every thrust.
“Draco…” She moaned quietly, fisting his hair. “I need… harder…”
He obliged, picking up speed so that he could slam into her with more weight and make her eyes close tight from the force. He took her legs and pulled them over his shoulders, angling himself deep within her, pulling out from her each time a groan, a whimper, a sigh at each and every thrust. Hermione bit her lower lip and cried out when his hand reached down to draw circles with his fingers on her clit.
“God!” She gasped at the sudden rush of sensation. “Right there… Yes…”
“Say it.”
Hermione all but shouted, “Draco.”
His fingers pulled away and he withdrew from her, Hermione a bundle of nerves as she lay there confused. That was, until he rolled her over to her side and primed one leg over his shoulder, the other splayed out across the bed and shoved his hard, sure cock back into her. A hand reached up and cupped her breast as he worked himself deep in and out of her, rolling his hips in time with her labored breathing, letting her come undone beneath him. She imagined how she must look, sprawled out underneath him, pink tinted cheeks and rosy red lips pursed in an ‘Oh’ as he slammed harder and harder into her. The thought was every bit as exciting as the actual act.
“You want to show me how you ride a cock, Granger?” He teased, slowing down his hips and becoming much gentler.
Hermione nodded willfully, and he fell back against the bed to let her gather her wits and climb on top. His cock was so shiny, slick with her wetness, and with his arms behind his head like that, he looked like a demi-god that awaited his sacrifice. Hermione vowed, that moment, that she would unravel that insatiable smirk of his.
“You want me to ride you?” She teased, turning her body away from him and placing herself on all fours to present herself to him like a prize he had to earn. “Is that what you want, Draco?”
He reached down and ran his fingers over his length, holding it upright and ready for her. One hand was still tucked behind his head, and Hermione knew that just wouldn’t do. She sat up, back still to him, and perched herself directly above him, the head brushing gently against the wet lips between her legs. She felt him roll his hips up to push into her, but she pulled up farther, just out of his reach. It was heavenly to hear the frustrated groan in his throat.
“Beg me for it,” She said as she bunched her hair back to expose her slender neck, “Beg me to sit on your cock.”
“Bloody Hell…” Draco growled. “That’s my game.” He slipped his other hand, the one that was tucked so smugly behind his head, and traced his nails down her back before settling his palm against her hip. “If you were anyone else…”
“Beg.”
She heard him sigh. “Please…” He hissed.
“Please what?”
There was a pause, no doubt him struggling with his inner consciousness, and then begrudgingly the words came. “Please, Hermione. I… I need it. Don’t make me wait.” It was sincere, angry, but most definitely begging. She grinned to herself as she slipped down onto him, taking all of him in one quick movement, eliciting a string of obscenities from his mouth. “Holy fucking shit, fuck me, Jesus-Christ…” He gripped a fistful of her hair and tugged her head back, arching her whole body. “Good girl. Ride me, that’s it…”
Hermione did as she was told, rolling her hips to take him in and out of her. She found a pleasing angle where his cock hit her in just the right way to make her scream. He liked it, the sound of her screaming, because when he noticed he angled his cock even farther inside of her and gripped her hips tight with his hand that wasn’t fisting her curls. “Draco…”
“Yes…”
“Draco!”
“Say it.”
“Draco fucking Malfoy…” Hermione felt the inside of her begin to tighten. The buildup drove her to the point of bobbing up and down on him, her breasts bouncing to each thrust, her body so completely free and liberated… She came in a quiet moan as all of her breathing stopped momentarily to bask in the sweet relief. He let her slow down until she could no longer think to move, then rolled his hips up and let her ride out the rest of her orgasm as he fucked her from underneath.
“Again.” He demanded, and turned her around to face him as she sat on his cock, “Come again for me.” Hermione’s heart banged against her ears as he encouraged her to continue rolling her hips back and forth against him, building her up brick by brick. At this angle, she could feel every single inch of him, and when she thought she couldn’t feel anything but the sheer length of him, her lower abdomen burned to tell her to keep going, to fuck him harder and ride his dick to the point of ecstasy. She could hear the whispers of reassurance from him, saying things like, “That’s it, love, ride my dick just like that. You feel me so deep in you? Feel how wet you are? Who are you wet for, Hermione? Who’s making you moan like a little whore?”
“You are…” She gasped, at the tipping point. Her ears flushed, as did her cheeks, and she knew that all he had to do was say one more thing to send her past the brink. He leaned forward, angling his dick at the perfect spot, and whispered, “Come.”
It was all she needed. For the second time, she was thrown into agonizing bliss, her walls contracting around the perfect length of him. He took her shaking body, then, and scooped her up in his arms, hugging her, reassuring her. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, her lips, washing the orgasm away into something else. It was defining. It was endearing. It was kind. A kindness Hermione had never expected from Draco Malfoy. When her orgasm was spent, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and met her eyes with his own.
“You like that?”
She nodded, shocked by the weight of it all. “I… I want you to come.” She reached out and traced his jaw with her thumb. “I want to make you come.” She corrected herself.
He smirked, leaning into her touch. He captured her fingers up with his mouth, suckled them for a moment, and then nodded. “On your hands and knees then, Granger. Like a good girl.”
Her body was still tingling when she rolled off of him and got on her hands and knees across the length of the bed. She felt Draco shift the bed as he sat up, positioning himself behind her. One hand on her pelvis, he steadied himself with the other and slipped into her without a word. When he was deep, he put his other hand delicately on the other side of her pelvis and pushed just a little farther into her, enough to make her gasp.
“Please…” She mumbled, “I want you to come.”
“Then make me.” He pulled out of her to the tip, hands still on her hips and guided her back onto him. Hermione took the hint and repeated the motion, arching her back as she slid backwards onto his oh-so-willing cock. And there she fucked him, knowing that if she could be a fly on the wall she wouldn’t believe her own eyes. Draco Malfoy brought out a piece of her soul she didn’t know she had, a sexual liberation in her that only needed to be stoked to come to life. She got creative, gyrating her hips and loving the gasps and groans from his throat that spilled forth. His grips on her hips tightened, and she could tell he was so close. That’s when he took control, driving himself deep within her, over and over, swearing and clawing until he pulled himself out of her and came undone atop her glorious backside, warm and dripping. “Fuck…” He whispered, spilling the last of his come on her. Hermione moaned quietly, feeling much like a sexual goddess and at the same time also like a deviant who was used for more than nothing but a good ride. It all was so wonderful, she fell forward onto the bed and closed her eyes, smiling. She felt his weight shift, and before she knew it, he was lying beside her, breathing labored, body spent.
She managed to turn her head to look at him only to find him already peering over at her. His chest heaved up and down. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were pensive. Slowly, he reached over and cupped her cheek with his palm. “That was…”
“Yeah.” Hermione nodded in agreement. She scooted closer to him, turning her body to face his, and kissed him thoughtfully. “It was.”
His thumb continued to draw up and down her jawline as he studied her like a painting, observing every line, every curve, and every color of her face. “What have you done to me?”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed. She was going to find an answer to that glorious question, she really was, but there was a faint knock from the front door that dulled the moment. Her heart leapt in her chest as she stirred herself from the bed. “Hold that thought,” She whispered and ran to her closet. She slipped on a cotton bathrobe, so very much aware that she still wore his cum on her, and padded out of the bedroom and towards the front door. She chanced a look in the mirror hanging between her living room and the hallway towards the bedroom and hardly recognized who stared back at her. Who was that women, there, with her sultry brown eyes and beautifully parted lips? Where was the barely-sexual child that she had always resembled? What had Draco done to her?
She attempted to fix her misshapen hair and turned the doorknob. A woman stared at back at her, wrapped in a pea-coat, mud covered leggings and goulashes. A woman by the name of Lavender Brown.
“Hermione, can we talk?” She asked as she shook out a dripping umbrella in her hands. Had it been raining? Hermione hadn’t noticed. Her mind had been on… other things. She leaned against the door and frowned.
“About what?”
“What do you think? About Ron.” Lavender’s guilt-written eyes rested gently on Hermione. “I wanted to apologize. I didn’t realize you two were dating, and when I asked him out to drinks I didn’t mean to-”
“What are you sorry for?” Hermione perched up an eyebrow much the way that Draco would. “It was just drinks, right?”
“I… I wasn’t sure what he told you about Thursday…” Lavender fiddled with the handle of her umbrella, nervous. “Honestly, Hermione, I would have never kissed him if I had known-”
“You kissed him.” Hermione repeated back, knowing she should be more upset. Her voice barely rose above a conversational volume. “Huh. Well… that’s news.”
“I… you… you don’t seem mad.” Lavender pointed out as she chewed on her bottom lip. “But judging by your face I assume Ron didn’t tell you.”
“No, he didn’t.” Her voice shook slightly. She furrowed her eyebrows together, thinking. “Thank you, Lavender. For telling me.”
“He didn’t kiss back,” Said Lavender, as if that very point would make it less of a blow, “And he felt awful about it. I could tell.”
“He didn’t tell me he was going to get drinks with you,” Hermione said as she fixed her robe tighter around her. “He kept that part completely hidden from me until I bullied it out of him.”
“Did he?” Lavender said nervously. “I am so sorry, Hermione…. I get that we weren’t the best of friends in Hogwarts, but I do mean it when I say I never meant to hurt you or your relationship-”
“It’s alright. Really.” Hermione interjected. “He should have told you he had a girlfriend in the first place.”
“I hope I didn’t ruin it for you two.”
“You didn’t.” Hermione smiled, encouraging. “He did. -Goodnight, Lavender. See you around work.” And then she closed the door on Lavender’s face, a faint smile tracing the outlines of her mouth.
When she turned around she saw Draco standing at the edge of the kitchen, his pants already back on but his chest bare. He held out a glass of water to her, and she gladly crossed the room and chugged the entire glass in one go. When she was done, she sat it down on the counter next to her and caught him staring at her.
“What?”
“Everything alright?” He asked, nudging towards the door. “Rather late visitor.”
“It was nothing.” Hermione shook her head.
“Didn’t sound like it was nothing.”
Hermione tossed the conversation around in her head, deciding if she were upset or not. After a time, she spoke. “I can’t trust Ronald. I don’t think he set out to hurt me, but I know that I can’t feel comfortable with his word.”
“Is it worth throwing all of that away over a lie?” Draco asked. She could tell he was careful with his inflections, attempting not to sound too eager for an answer one way or the other. She ran a hand down his arm, laced her fingers with his, and watched as he furrowed his eyebrows at her, confused. She then perched herself on her tip-toes and landed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“The right lie can end anything.” She said the words as a warning, then kissed his mouth, slowly. When she pulled away, she rubbed her nose against his. “I can’t trust him. And trust is probably the most important thing.”
Draco seemed to fight with something deep within him, but it must have won, because he asked, “So… what does one have to do to earn your trust?”
Hermione smiled, set herself down on the flat of her feet, and yawned. “Well, maybe not rushing off after a sexual encounter… that might be a start.”
Draco smirked. “And a shower?”
Hermione smiled. “A shower sounds delightful.”
---
Please leave a review, as it would mean so much to me. Let me know your favorite parts, what you enjoyed the most. Maybe, just maybe, I will add just one more segment.
Lots of love!
Update: I wanted to respond to something someone told me about Hermione's characterization in the story. They pointed out that Hermione basically cheated on Ron, and it was WILDLY out of charcter (according to them). They said it was nothing like Hermione from the books. I would like to say -this isn't Hermione in Hogwarts. This is Hermione, 2+ years after the War, after graduating, after experiencing sex, love, and growing into her ways. I think she knew things with Ron were already heading south, and Ron, though not physically cheating, emotionally cheated when he lied about where he was going Thursday night. Maybe her silent treatment wasn't read correctly, but I tried to infer that she basically was calling it quits with Ron by telling him 'I can't trust you.' Anyways, just wanted to point out where I was coming from. <3