Written for the 2014 Hermione Smut Fest. So, smut. The first and likely only total PWP piece I'm ever going to write. Pairings include Hermione/Draco and Harry/Pansy. If you have a problem with either of those two pairings, I suggest you hit the back button now.
Thanks to my beta, Kanames Harisen, who was hugely, massively helpful in writing this.
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
Again, SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! If you're underage, squeamish, have delicate sensibilities or whatever, this ain't the story for you.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. There it was again: the same, nearly sibilant rustle that had woken her up three times already in the past two hours alone.
Really, it was starting to go beyond a joke, she groused to herself as she sat up in her sleeping bag, careful not to disturb her sleeping husband. The previous night when they had arrived at the isolated expanse of lush forest, it had been perfectly quiet (if she discounted the loud protests of both Draco and Pansy at the apparent indignity of sleeping in a tent on the ground). While she could appreciate the fact that camping in a forest would likely produce a veritable symphony of strange sounds, she hadn't anticipated anything quite like this particular noise.
Hermione chanced a quick glance down at Draco's sleeping form, dimly illuminated by a blue glow from the stark, white moonlight that filtered through the tent, and stifled a snort at his outstretched arms and drooling mouth. The man could sleep through Armageddon, and then some.
She felt around the tent for something to cover her body from the cold outside, since she certainly wasn't venturing out to face her possible doom in the strappy little nightie Draco had insisted she bring. Her hand landed on Draco's crisp, white button-down shirt. She smiled; she had no earthly idea why he had worn such an impractical garment on a camping trip. Hermione tugged it on, taking a deep inhale of the collar where it smelled most strongly of Draco's cologne as she did so. She didn't bother with the buttons and smoothed it down before reaching for the small bag under her pillow where her wand and torch were stowed.
Hermione slowly unzipped the tent opening and poked her head out. The rustle became louder, more frantic, then stopped suddenly. She wondered if perhaps she had been seen by whatever critter was making the sound.
With the torch in one hand and her wand in the other, Hermione flicked the little switch and pointed the light between the trees and upwards to the canopy, expecting to find a bird or some other animal there that she could spook away. Instead, she found nothing but stillness. She had to supress a shudder at the shadows the tall, dark trees cast against the torch light; it looked like something out of a Muggle horror film.
The rustle started again, this time with an odd sort of scratching noise accompanying it. Odd, Hermione thought with a frown; it certainly didn't sound like an animal.
She held her torch tight, slowly turned around, and immediately dropped her wand and threw a hand over her mouth to silence the gasp at what she found.
Silhouetted by flickering candlelight against the thin fabric of the opposite tent was a perfect outline of Pansy's slim body, her mouth open wide and head thrown back in rapture, her hips undulating over a thrusting body that could only be Harry's. Inside their tent must be Silenced, Hermione thought dazedly to herself, but the outside certainly wasn't; she could hear ever push and shove of the tent against the ground as it slid and rustled in time with their love-making.
She knew she shouldn't be watching, that she should turn around right now and forget having ever seen anything – maybe she ought to snuggle back into her sleeping bag and plan a good, long chat with Harry about the impropriety of keeping lit candles in an enclosed tent – but she couldn't move. It was her best friend and his fiancée, for Merlin's sake! To watch their intimate moments was at least a thousand different kinds of wrong, but some tiny part of her – that silent, twelve-year-old part of her that would probably always have that tiny, little crush on Harry… it was demanding, curious and refused to be denied.
Hermione lowered the torch as Silhouette-Harry suddenly rushed his hands up to Silhouette-Pansy's neck, pulling her down for a fierce kiss as their movements became hurried and inelegant. Still, Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene. She watched with awe as Pansy ripped her lips from Harry's and slammed her hands (quite roughly, too, she noted with awe) to his chest, steadying herself as she rose and fell, and rose and fell. The speed of their snapping hips was near on inhuman. Surely she and Draco were never so rough with each other?
She watched as Harry wrapped his arms around Pansy's waist and flipped them around, so it was the long, muscular planes of his back that were illuminated as he slowed his thrusts, working Pansy to completion slowly as he leaned further down, so every inch of their bodies were pressed together, to kiss her again.
Against all better judgment, Hermione crawled around her tent to get a better view. She bit her lip to keep quiet and slid her hand into her knickers, her fingers immediately finding that straining little nub. She moaned softly as she applied a firm pressure, and began to rub small circles over it, never taking her eyes off the indescribably erotic scene playing out in front of her. Who knew she had voyeuristic tendencies?
A warm arm wrapped around her waist, and with a shrill shriek, she was pulled back against a hot, firm, unmistakeably naked body. There were warm puffs of breath on her neck, and a tongue sliding against the tendons there.
"Naughty girl," a husky voice murmured in her ear. She felt teeth scraping against the lobe and shuddered. "Just what are you doing out here, Granger? Your hands in your knickers, watching your friends fuck?"
Hermione bit back a whimper as a rough hand slid over her thigh. "They're your friends, too."
"Pansy, perhaps. Potter, never." He ran his lips over the juncture of her neck and shoulder, moving upwards to suck aggressively at her pulse as he dragged the crisp, white shirt down her arms. "What do you suppose they'd make of you spying on them, hmm? I think they'd love it; Pansy always did have an exhibitionist streak – I'm almost certain she has those candles lit on purpose – and anyone as tightly wound as Potter has got to have a kinky side in there somewhere."
"Draco," Hermione whispered, breathless. She gasped when his fingers brushed lightly over the thin, silk nightie where it clung to her waist and ribs. "What… what are you doing?"
His answering chuckle was sin itself: low, dark and tempting. He tugged the nightie down and exposed her breasts to the cold night air. He cupped them with warm, calloused hands and pulled teasingly at her tight nipples. "And they call you smart. What do you think I'm doing?"
His fingers trailed down over her body, tracing little swirls as they went. He stroked over the damp fabric of her knickers. There was a dark chuckle in her ear as he tugged them to the side to tickle over her slick folds, two fingers setting a maddeningly slow pace in and out while his thumb flicked lazily over her clit. "Wet, Granger?"
She felt a fierce blush burn her cheeks as her breath caught in a sigh. "Of course not."
He laughed, damp and hot against her neck. "Liar."
His fingers sped up, a third joining the other two when she began to tighten around him. She let out a moan and rolled her head back against his shoulder, allowing him to catch her lips in a fiery kiss to stifle her cries of pleasure as she fell apart.
"Tent," she managed moments later through her shallow pants as Draco trailed kisses down her neck. "Bed. Now."
"No, no," he whispered, holding her to him tight to him. "Right here."
"Here?" Hermione repeated weakly. She could feel his hot, insistent cock pressing against the small of her back.
He bit down on her earlobe in censure. "Yes, Granger. Right here."
Before she could utter another word, he hiked up the hem of her nightie so it gathered around her waist, pulled the soaked fabric of her knickers aside and thrust inside her. She gasped loudly and fell forward. Only Draco's arm around her waist kept her from falling to the ground. He pulled her up so her back was flush against his front and buried his face in her hair.
"You ought to stay quiet, Mrs. Malfoy," Draco murmured into her ear as he set an even pace in and out, in and out. "You never know who might be listening."
"You... you mean... Aah!" Her breath caught and her back arched on a particularly hard thrust. "You didn't... Nothing?"
He let out a groan against her hair, his bare chest sliding against her back, and rasped out, "Not a damn thing, sweetness."
"But… oh, God, Draco… Harry and Pansy, they're right there." Hermione raised her head to look at her friend's tent, seeing the silhouetted figures sitting stock-still – Pansy propped up on Harry's lap – and obviously watching. The thought caused a rush of white-hot heat to shoot through her. "Oh, God, they are watching."
"I know," Draco whispered, kissing behind her ear. "Let's give them a show, shall we?"
Draco pushed her forward so she was bowed at the waist. She immediately braced her hands on the forest floor, her fingers curling into the dirt and leaf litter when Draco dropped all pretence of gentleness proceeded to give her exactly what she wanted.
She pushed back against him, meeting every hard, dizzying thrust as he folded his long body over her, pressing his chest against her back. His lips moved over her neck and shoulders, nipping and licking her skin while he reached one hand around to cup her breast and the other strayed down to between her legs. Hermione couldn't stifle her whimpers when Draco's thumb brushed against her clit, nor could she contain her cries of his name when she finally came, convulsing around his length as he continued to move through her orgasm. He followed her soon after, tensing against her and sinking in as far as he could, coming deep within her with a low groan and whisper of her name against her neck.
Hermione felt their combined release trickle down the inside of her thigh as he pulled out, his softened length pressed against her backside. She pushed back against him so they were kneeling upright and twisted in his hold so she was facing him properly, meeting his eyes with a sated, lazy smile on her face. He kept an arm braced around her waist, for which she was infinitely grateful; she doubted she could stand under her own power after a shag like that!
"That was…"
"Amazing?" Draco finished for her, breathless. "Incredible? The most mind-blowing shag of your life?"
Hermione blushed and swatted his chest. "I was going to say awkward. Perverted, even."
He chuckled. "You enjoyed it, Granger."
"You're incorrigible."
"And you're beautiful." He kissed her again, lingering for a long moment on her lips. "I love you, Hermione."
She smiled against him. "I love you, too," she returned, his lips moving with hers. "Do you really think Pansy had that candle lit on purpose?"
"I'm almost certain of it," he replied, chuckling when the light within the other tent went out. "It was a challenge, and we answered. Just means we'll have to throw down the gauntlet tomorrow night." He pulled her close and whispered against her ear, "I'm sure we can top silly silhouettes and strange noises, can't we, Granger? Perhaps I could finger your pretty, little cunt through dinner, and they could watch you flush with arousal as you bite your lip to stay quiet. Or I could untie that ludicrous piece of swimwear you brought with you when we go swimming tomorrow, baring your gorgeous tits to them while I play with your nipples. What do you think?"
Hermione let out a soft moan and felt her cheeks grow warm as a thousand possibilities flooded her mind at once. "I'm sure we can think of something."
AN: Not too painful to read, I hope? Leave a review and let me know what you think :)