[Fic] Taken to the Bridge
Title: Taken to the Bridge
Fandom: Harry Potter
Timeline: EWE?
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy
Word Count: ~1041
Rating: PG-13
Warning/s: crack
Summary: Suffice to say, Hermione never expected this from Malfoy. Hermione and a telly; Malfoy and his briefs
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the brainchild of JKR. All the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belong to her. Sexyback is not mine, as well. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.
Notes: I've always wanted to write Dramione, but the first fic that I envisioned writing was certainly not a gen!fic nor a cracky one. :< It'd be nice if you listen to this while reading. ;)
Oh! And I'm quite aware that Sexyback isn't the top song in the UK music charts but, uh, for the sake of this fic let's say it is.
Tonight, it was Hermione’s shift. And it was not just any other shift in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was The Shift.
At first glance, The Shift seemed simple enough: observe a wizard with special, magically-enforced muggle video cameras connected to several televisions in a spare room of the department. It had been an innovative way to keep track of him while still under suspicion (particularly the suspicions of Chudley Cannons Keeper, Ronald Weasley, who kept bugging Auror Harry Potter, who in turn sent him to Undersecretary Hermione Granger who caved in after six weeks of non-stop badgering), duly approved by the Minister of Magic who had never taken a shine to the wizard in question.
Except they were observing one former ferret Draco Malfoy who, for the love of all things bright and right, liked walking around in the nude. This was normally not a bother for Hermione for there were always a gaggle of witches in the department in line for The Shift but tonight, they were all gone to watch the last concert of Celestina Warbeck. And so she was left to truly observe for herself whether Malfoy really had a “ferret that you’d just die to have, burrowed in your hole”.
So Hermione took her seat on a moldy orange couch with her fingers splayed over her eyes, peeking through a small hole in between her digits because she was supposed to be watching him, right? Right.
It was with great joy that she saw Malfoy walking past Camera Four with all his clothes intact. (Nope, no dismay whatsoever. Nada.) He made his way to a piece of metal furnishing that looked suspiciously like a muggle stereo then stooped down in front of it, his perfect back towards her -- that is to say, his back towards her, perfectly in the center of the screen. Hermione was halfway to dialing a number in her muggle wireless communication device (a mobile phone, really, but no one wanted to call it that) when a disembodied sound from the telly resonated in the stillness of the room.
Hermione would never admit it out loud, but she was baffled. What spell was capable of producing this sound before its full effects were unleashed? To the best of her vast and unparalleled knowledge, there was nothing in the entire magical community that could provide a reasonable explanation for this occurrence. Of course there were spells that could imitate the music of sirens, but then what use would Malfoy have for them when there was no one around arouse?
A ritual, then. The most plausible explanation why Malfoy suddenly started swinging his hips back and forth like a pendulum, but with glorious buttocks. Hermione gulped as she followed the motion with her head, and felt a sudden, really miniscule tinge of disappointment when Malfoy turned around. His eyes were closed but his mouth was moving to the lyrics of a song Hermione was vaguely mortified to note as muggle in origin. She was not so far removed from the non-wizarding community that she wouldn’t be able to notice the top song in the UK music charts.
“I’m bringing sexy back...”
Well, he was bringing sexy back all right.
Hermione’s curiosity regarding Malfoy’s sudden appreciation for anything muggle in nature was thrown out of the window when he started unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly, her mouth felt dry. Malfoy wasn’t so much dancing as wriggling like a flobberworm in heat but there was something with that growing expanse of alabaster flesh being bared to her muddy brown eyes that distracted her like crazy. Surely, if he knew a lower class creature like her was watching him do a rendition of a male stripper in a night club, he would never--
Okay, his shirt was off and being twirled above his head. Enough rationalizing.
Malfoy let go of his clothing and it hit the camera on accident, robbing Hermione bereft of his mad dancing skills but the momentary darkness was compensated for when it slid down and she caught him doing vicious pelvic thrusts as if re-populating with invisible women was the current fad. A deep shade of red settled on Hermione’s cheeks. Malfoy, who had always loved to torment her and unwittingly wasn’t passing up the chance to do so now, had grabbed on to a wall and was undulating against it.
“You see these shackles baby I’m your slave...”
Hermione’s breaths were coming in fast and shallow but her breathing came to an abrupt halt when Malfoy started fiddling with his belt. Her pantsuit was wrinkled, forceful as her fingers were as they dug into the cloth, but when Malfoy threw his belt aside and suddenly yanked his slacks open, there was no keeping Hermione’s hands from tearing a little gash into her clothing. Without support, his trousers fell to the ground leaving him in nothing but his underwear: glorious, dark green, Slytherin-regulation briefs.
(Hermione swore she had never seen anything more compatible than Draco Malfoy and his briefs.)
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he started squirming out of it and she was treated to a view of his indeed glorious buttocks before she went down and out for the count.
On the next Ministry ball, Hermione will be hiding behind a pillar, shooting furtive glances around the room for any sight of the Malfoy scion (to a strip club), because she doesn’t think she’ll be able to control herself in a face-to-face confrontation. She will only decide that the coast is clear when nothing remotely resembling a sexy albino beast shows up two hours into the event.
Of course, her game of hide-and-seek will end upon bumping into him and spilling her wine all over his dress robes. While he is on the process of insulting her, Hermione will think of ways to kick out the current witch in The Shift tonight. When he adds ‘Mudblood’ for good measure, she will smile indulgently at him, fish out a five pound note from her handbag and slip it into the garter of his slacks. Then, she will say, “Advanced tip for the show tonight,” and walk off but not before giving his mortified look a saucy wink.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Timeline: EWE?
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy
Word Count: ~1041
Rating: PG-13
Warning/s: crack
Summary: Suffice to say, Hermione never expected this from Malfoy. Hermione and a telly; Malfoy and his briefs
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the brainchild of JKR. All the copyrights associated with Harry Potter belong to her. Sexyback is not mine, as well. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.
Notes: I've always wanted to write Dramione, but the first fic that I envisioned writing was certainly not a gen!fic nor a cracky one. :< It'd be nice if you listen to this while reading. ;)
Oh! And I'm quite aware that Sexyback isn't the top song in the UK music charts but, uh, for the sake of this fic let's say it is.
Tonight, it was Hermione’s shift. And it was not just any other shift in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was The Shift.
At first glance, The Shift seemed simple enough: observe a wizard with special, magically-enforced muggle video cameras connected to several televisions in a spare room of the department. It had been an innovative way to keep track of him while still under suspicion (particularly the suspicions of Chudley Cannons Keeper, Ronald Weasley, who kept bugging Auror Harry Potter, who in turn sent him to Undersecretary Hermione Granger who caved in after six weeks of non-stop badgering), duly approved by the Minister of Magic who had never taken a shine to the wizard in question.
Except they were observing one former ferret Draco Malfoy who, for the love of all things bright and right, liked walking around in the nude. This was normally not a bother for Hermione for there were always a gaggle of witches in the department in line for The Shift but tonight, they were all gone to watch the last concert of Celestina Warbeck. And so she was left to truly observe for herself whether Malfoy really had a “ferret that you’d just die to have, burrowed in your hole”.
So Hermione took her seat on a moldy orange couch with her fingers splayed over her eyes, peeking through a small hole in between her digits because she was supposed to be watching him, right? Right.
It was with great joy that she saw Malfoy walking past Camera Four with all his clothes intact. (Nope, no dismay whatsoever. Nada.) He made his way to a piece of metal furnishing that looked suspiciously like a muggle stereo then stooped down in front of it, his perfect back towards her -- that is to say, his back towards her, perfectly in the center of the screen. Hermione was halfway to dialing a number in her muggle wireless communication device (a mobile phone, really, but no one wanted to call it that) when a disembodied sound from the telly resonated in the stillness of the room.
Hermione would never admit it out loud, but she was baffled. What spell was capable of producing this sound before its full effects were unleashed? To the best of her vast and unparalleled knowledge, there was nothing in the entire magical community that could provide a reasonable explanation for this occurrence. Of course there were spells that could imitate the music of sirens, but then what use would Malfoy have for them when there was no one around arouse?
A ritual, then. The most plausible explanation why Malfoy suddenly started swinging his hips back and forth like a pendulum, but with glorious buttocks. Hermione gulped as she followed the motion with her head, and felt a sudden, really miniscule tinge of disappointment when Malfoy turned around. His eyes were closed but his mouth was moving to the lyrics of a song Hermione was vaguely mortified to note as muggle in origin. She was not so far removed from the non-wizarding community that she wouldn’t be able to notice the top song in the UK music charts.
“I’m bringing sexy back...”
Well, he was bringing sexy back all right.
Hermione’s curiosity regarding Malfoy’s sudden appreciation for anything muggle in nature was thrown out of the window when he started unbuttoning his shirt. Suddenly, her mouth felt dry. Malfoy wasn’t so much dancing as wriggling like a flobberworm in heat but there was something with that growing expanse of alabaster flesh being bared to her muddy brown eyes that distracted her like crazy. Surely, if he knew a lower class creature like her was watching him do a rendition of a male stripper in a night club, he would never--
Okay, his shirt was off and being twirled above his head. Enough rationalizing.
Malfoy let go of his clothing and it hit the camera on accident, robbing Hermione bereft of his mad dancing skills but the momentary darkness was compensated for when it slid down and she caught him doing vicious pelvic thrusts as if re-populating with invisible women was the current fad. A deep shade of red settled on Hermione’s cheeks. Malfoy, who had always loved to torment her and unwittingly wasn’t passing up the chance to do so now, had grabbed on to a wall and was undulating against it.
“You see these shackles baby I’m your slave...”
Hermione’s breaths were coming in fast and shallow but her breathing came to an abrupt halt when Malfoy started fiddling with his belt. Her pantsuit was wrinkled, forceful as her fingers were as they dug into the cloth, but when Malfoy threw his belt aside and suddenly yanked his slacks open, there was no keeping Hermione’s hands from tearing a little gash into her clothing. Without support, his trousers fell to the ground leaving him in nothing but his underwear: glorious, dark green, Slytherin-regulation briefs.
(Hermione swore she had never seen anything more compatible than Draco Malfoy and his briefs.)
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he started squirming out of it and she was treated to a view of his indeed glorious buttocks before she went down and out for the count.
On the next Ministry ball, Hermione will be hiding behind a pillar, shooting furtive glances around the room for any sight of the Malfoy scion (to a strip club), because she doesn’t think she’ll be able to control herself in a face-to-face confrontation. She will only decide that the coast is clear when nothing remotely resembling a sexy albino beast shows up two hours into the event.
Of course, her game of hide-and-seek will end upon bumping into him and spilling her wine all over his dress robes. While he is on the process of insulting her, Hermione will think of ways to kick out the current witch in The Shift tonight. When he adds ‘Mudblood’ for good measure, she will smile indulgently at him, fish out a five pound note from her handbag and slip it into the garter of his slacks. Then, she will say, “Advanced tip for the show tonight,” and walk off but not before giving his mortified look a saucy wink.