A/N: In honour of Draco's birthday I am taking the plunge and post my first Dramione fic. Let me know what you liked about it (if you liked anything at all); I'd really love to continue this dirty little fic if you don't think it's utterly horrible.
All the beta love goes to MotherofBulls who encouraged me to make a mini-fic out of the mess that initially was meant to be a one-shot PWP.
Chapter One: The Pearls
"Well, that's a load of rubbish!"
"It's true! I bloody swear!"
A scoff.
"Right."
"Why, I've seen it with my own eyes!"
"Never in a million years, Blaise. Never!"
Draco and his dapper former housemate were lounging quite comfortably in the maroon coloured Chesterfields in the cigar room of Malfoy Manor. For the last two and a half hours they had indulged in their weekly "shop talk", which meant that they had been "tasting" the most recently auctioned bottle of 75 year old Ogden's finest vintage.
All in all, it was a pretty standard Wednesday evening, really.
Blaise thumped his empty crystal tumbler onto the black Marcel Breuer coffee table, and eyed his blonde mate slyly.
"Look, Malfoy, if you don't believe me, how about we make a little wager out of it?"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Zabini, I've known Nott my whole life; Parkinson, too, as a matter of fact. Hell, I've even dated the bint for the better part of fourth and fifth year. Don't you remember how Nott used to go on and on how he hated that Pansy was always around? How we never could have a night just amongst us gents anymore? How Pansy nagged and nagged that Theo was such a scrawny little fucker, and that he wouldn't have any friends at all weren't it for you and I?"
Blaise Accio'd the crystal decanter with the sumptuous amber liquid. Holding the vitreous vessel against the warm glow of the hearth to contemplate its diminishing contents, he smirked at his best friend.
"Well, for one, people change." He gave Draco a meaningful look. "And our dear Hogwarts days have been over for more than seven years now. Secondly, it wouldn't be the most surprising story of all times, would it now? The whole "from enemies to lovers" routine seems to be such a classic, wouldn't you agree, Malfoy?" Blaise poured himself a new glass of whiskey, and sniggered devilishly.
Draco uncrossed and re–crossed his legs, and his ever–immaculately straight posture became noticeably more rigid. "Why, Zabini, I'm glad to see that even you haven't been able to avoid the great British classics." He drawled coldly, "And thanks for only serving yourself, you rude wanker."
"Great British classic, indeed!" Blaise exclaimed, ignoring the rebuke. "I dare say it's a Hogwarts classic! 'The course of true love never did run smooth', and all that. So, if Parkinson and Nott can happen, I'd try my luck as a divinist, and foretell–" He closed his eyes, and, bringing both his hands up to his forehead in mock imitation of Sybil Trelawny, continued in a dark, sing–songy voice, "the next happy couple will be Malfoy and Granger!"
Draco snorted derisively.
He met Theo practically every other day for luncheon at the Manor, and he very clearly remembered several instances where Theo had loudly and insistently berated the witch.
"Ugh. Don't get me started on Pansy and her screeching banshee voice," Theo exclaimed aggressively stabbing his rare tenderloin steak, blood squirting from the sides– "By Merlin, Draco, why on earth you went to the Yule Ball with that hideous pug face is really beyond me. You were not that desperate, were you? She always pouts her lips," Theo made a squishy face, "as if she's out to snog the first poor bloke that won't object." He licked the rest of his chocolate soufflé from his spoon."Why did Narcissa invite her again? Gosh. Can't we just have a gathering to ourselves just once? Just look at that at that obnoxious witch," Theo glanced at Pansy in a little black dress who was standing next to the fireplace chatting with Narcissa. "Makes me want to heave. Always stalking about in those ridiculous storky legs of hers… it's just ridiculous!" He greedily gulped down the rest of his digestif in visible agony.
Although Draco had come to value Pansy as a loyal friend, he genuinely had some sympathy for Theo. After all, he was no stranger to that kind of aggravating irritation, particularly where a certain insufferable, swotty Gryffindor was concerned.
Blaise really must have suffered a delusion hex, or one too many hits with a Bludger to his head. Maybe they all should tone done the competitiveness of their monthly Quidditch match.
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot see," Blaise supplied airily, snapping Draco out of his thoughts.
Then again, maybe not.
"Lovely," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "Gimme that." He snatched the decanter, and emptied the pitiful rest into his own tumbler. "That's one thing that I know for certain is never going to happen. I do have standards after all; unlike you, I dare say. Which bint is it this week? Or still hung up on that ginger blood–traitor spawn, are you?"
Blaise swirled the whiskey in his glass.
"Mmmhh… lovely Ginevra, you mean? Ahh, you know she snatched herself the raven–haired Saviour himself. I positively pale in comparison." He sighed theatrically. "But come now, Draco. Blood–traitor? Are you bloody serious, man? Who actually still cares for that shite? You can't honestly tell me you still do. Aren't you supposed to be the smart one around here?"
Again, Blaise gave his friend a conniving smirk, while the blond pretended to be thoroughly enthralled by the taste of his drink as not to show the grimaces that always threatened to perturb his usually perfectly impassive exterior.
"You're impossible, Blaise. I do wonder how you still manage to find witches you haven't bedded yet. Seeing as the ones you did have you've obviously all irritated to death."
"Ah, do I smell envy? You only say so because you're too stuck up to know what to do with a witch, even if one lay ready and starkers in your bed every day of the week. No wonder you only have a go at it once a year; that probably exhausts your repertoire as it is. I bet you could learn a thing or two, especially from my," Blaise made a meaningful pause. "Irritating self."
The blond man huffed indignantly in reply and started to retort, even though there was far too much truth to the comment for his liking (it had been rather long since he had harboured any interest in a witch, and his last tumble in the sheets was almost too long ago to even speak of). But the darker wizard cut him off, waving his hand through the air as if thoroughly bored.
"Anyway," he drawled. "Back to the matter at hand. Still don't believe me and my faultless insight into magical society and witches in particular: that our dearest friends Pansy and Theodore are shacking up?"
"Never."
"Fantastic. So, let's talk wager. If I'm right–"
Draco snorted derisively. This conversation was getting more ridiculous by the minute, and he was good and ready to throw his obnoxious drinking companion out of the manor.
"Unless you want to admit right this second that I am, in fact, right?" Blaise smirked at his friend.
"You're so full of it, Blaise." Draco took another swig. "But there you go; if you desperately want to lose a wager, I certainly won't be the one to stop you." Maybe there was a possibility of revenge to be had. That annoying little fucker needed to be shown some manners.
"Brilliant! So, if I'm right, what should I have you do? Oh, the options, oh, the options…" Blaise mused and observed his pale friend.
Draco on the other hand eyed his companion with calculating interest. After a few moments his stormy grey eyes betrayed a devilish glint. The wager was ridiculous; but Blaise had been such a pain in the arse this evening, he was quite happy to take him down a peg.
"Well, Blaise, since you're so confident of your appeal to the ladies, and since you're so wholeheartedly dedicated to blood equality, why don't you seek out the Weasel ginger beauty and ask her out on a date, Potty or no Potty. And while we're at it, why don't you do it after one of her Quidditch matches. It'd be such a shame, if there wasn't anyone to witness your unmistakable prowess with the ladies, wouldn't you agree. After all," Malfoy flashed him a sarcastic smirk, "we all could learn a thing or two."
His dark friend grinned. "Feeling a bit devious, are we, Malfoy? Well, well, well. Since you're apparently so inspired by our ladies talk, I guess I can think of something to compare. Let's see… " Once again, Blaise reached for the whiskey carafe, and tried – unsuccessfully this time – to replenish his drink. Disappointed, he put the stopper back onto the empty decanter. That's when inspiration hit him. He will give the devil his due, Blaise thought deviously.
"Oh, Draco, darling, you are going to loooove this."
Seething, Draco made his way to the Leaky Cauldron. Of all the rotten luck. He was still incredulous. Stunned. Dumbstruck even.
How was this possible?
Were they blind?
Was he blind?
His thoughts wandered to the meeting with Theo and Pansy for the umpteenth time.
Theo had clearly been nervous but obviously besotted with the dark haired witch. Pansy was uncharacteristically giggling into her goblet, all the while blushing furiously. An annoyingly smug, yet unperturbed Blaise conversed with the couple; he didn't even bat an eye at their constant touches and caresses which made it quite obvious how very intimate they were with each other.
It'd been a bloody mess.
With a curt nod he acknowledged the proprietor Tom (who sported a rather puzzled expression at the sight of the Malfoy scion in muggle attire), and in long strides crossed the pub that already exhibited its characteristic assortment of strange customers; either still sipping on their morning cuppas ahead of a day of shopping in Diagon Alley, or already nursing their drinks at eleven in the morning. Under a couple more bewildered glances, the blonde wizard stepped through the door, and onto the busy streets of Muggle London. It was a uncharacteristically sunny day, but he still kept his black umbrella close; one never knew. Turning towards Charing Cross station, Draco was immediately swallowed by an onslaught of non–magical passers. For the probably thousandth time today, he cursed Blaise under his breath for making him do this the Muggle way.
Fucking Zabini.
While he was waiting for the Northern Line to arrive, Draco thought of Theo and Pansy again.
How did this happen?
Through all the years, how could he not have noticed that Theo and Pansy had – apparently – carried a flame for one another? Well, that is what Blaise said, at least. He could almost still hear Theo complaining about what a bitch Pansy was; his ears had practically never stopped ringing from Pansy screeching her indignation about how irritating she found Theo's snark. Merlin, that bloke was practically a cousin to him, a brother even. How could they have talked for hours and hours, yet when they'd discuss women Theo fancied Parkinson had never come up? Not once!
Was he just shite at being a mate? What a bloody depressing thought.
The train arrived, and Draco hurried to find a seat from where he could best observe the stations. Although this was far from his first time in Muggle London, he wasn't intent on spending any extra hours riding back and forth just because he'd missed his stop.
More or less comfortably seated, Draco silently went over all the conversations he'd had with Theo in the past. He had to note that while Pansy was never discussed as a love interest, she'd been fairly ubiquitous in their discussions – even though it had been mostly Theo complaining about her.
Was he in love with her then already?
No.
Or was he?
Surely, he'd just been annoyed. After all, Draco knew perfectly well that when an annoying female irritated one to death, one had to get if off one's chest to achieve some peace of mind.
It was just the same with him and Granger. And he was certainly not in love with that bint.
Ugh.
Therefore, Draco concluded, Theo had to have fallen in love with Pansy some other time.
Flawless logic, he thought smugly to himself.
Although his reasoning did little to lesson his irritation that he nevertheless had lost the wager. And he was still none the wiser when the bloody hell love had happened.
He should probably ask them next time, instead of sulking into his goblet for half an hour, and then fleeing the scene because he couldn't stand any more of Zabini's gloating.
Fucking Zabini.
After roughly half an hour, the bustling masses of weekend shoppers swooped Draco out of Old Street station and onto the vibrating streets of Hackney. Clutching his wand buried deep in the pocket of his trench coat, he took a moment to orient himself, and then made his way down the busy main street. As soon as he reached the slightly less hectic area of brownstone houses and cobblestone streets of Shoreditch, he felt for the tiny piece of parchment that held the address of the establishment he was seeking.
Two quick glances assured him he was, in fact, right.
Once again muttering a curse against his devious Slytherin friend, the blonde wizard went into the alley, eyeing his surroundings in search for his destination.
As soon as he passed several curtained shop windows, he immediately knew he had found what he was looking for. Taking in the façade of the tall brownstone with its elegant white casement windows on the ground floor, he noticed a purple banner timidly jerking in the soft breeze. Its white pattern which ominously contoured a graceful female body almost seemed to be lolling seductively.
Final destination, Draco thought sarcastically. And, Fucking Zabini, he added darkly.
Even though he tried very hard to convince himself to be first and foremost mad at his friend for making him do muggle things, none of his vicious thoughts could quite shut down the nervous fluttering in his stomach that was much rather concerned with the What he was about to do, instead of the How.
If he could have, we would've turned on his heel, and went straight back down the streets he had just come from.
Alas, he couldn't.
Probably for the first time in his life, Draco cursed the powers of magic. And his stupid arrogance, too. He never should've agreed to that bloody wager in the first place.
And why did they have to bind the wager to an Unbreakable Vow? Completely unnecessary bloody nonsense.
Although, if he was being perfectly honest– not that he was, but let's just assume, for argument's sake– he too, would have insisted on securing the bet with the Unbreakable Vow. He just had been so sure of the outcome. And giving Zabini the possibility of an Out positively defeated his intent of humiliating the arrogant fucker.
Well, that went well, now, did it. Bloody insipid fool, you are, he scolded himself.
So, there was no turning back. In trepidation, he turned round the corner in search for the entrance.
Two letters and an exclamation point announced the object of his trepidation in paradoxical innocence:
Sh!
Sh–shite, Draco thought sarcastically.
Once again he nervously glanced up and down the alleyway to make sure there was absolutely no one he recognised. Or rather, he wasn't recognised by anyone.
It's just a little harmless shopping, anyway.
Draco pushed his wand deep into his pocket, squared his shoulders, schooled his features into his signature detached expression of airy coolness, and entered the building, just when the distant ringing of a church bell heralded that it was noon.
The dainty tinkling of a shop bell announced his presence to the bright and lofty interior. Whatever Draco had expected, this was certainly not it.
The ground floor room was positively glowing in the immaculate whiteness of its walls; the soft brown of the wooden floors and shelves gave an air of hominess, and an elegant seating group of baroque–styled armchairs grouped around a modern coffee table welcomed him into the establishment. It almost calmed his now wildly fluttering nerves – almost. Weren't it for the goods on display.
Draco swallowed.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed several books exhibited on his left: Smart Girl's Guide to Porn, Ultimate Guide to Orgasm for Women, Best Bondage Erotica, She Comes First, Clitology…
Sweet Morgana.
But his wandering eyes were caught by shelves upon shelves of the exhibited naughtiness. Next to different sized bottles of lubricant, he noticed vibrators in various extravagant colours and forms, exhibited on the walls as if they were design objects.
Oh Circe.
At the far end of the room his attention was finally caught by a curvy table displaying several toys for… oh Merlin… viewing..?
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks.
"Hullo!"
A friendly, raspy voice with a slight Cockney accent snapped Draco out of his descent into panic, and reminded him of the task at hand.
"Welcome to Sh! Nice day, isn't it?" The woman flashed Draco a warm, dimpled smile. "May I offer you a drink?"
"Err…. a... errr… drink?" Draco stuttered.
"Coffee? Tea? Some bubbly? Whatever you like, darling."
The shop assistant was a curvy women, probably in her late twenties, or early thirties. Draco noticed several intricate, geometrically shaped tattoos on her olive skin peeking out of the edges of her flowy hot pink dress with dainty floral patterns. Her straight black hair was pulled into a messy bun onto her head, but her left temple was almost shaved bald. The fierceness of her appearance contrasted sharply with her girly attire and welcoming attitude. Weirdly, Draco felt significantly more at ease because of it. The air of normalcy she exuded almost made him forget his embarrassment.
"Errr.. thank you. I'll...err... take the alcohol."
The woman sniggered quietly to herself, and disappeared to fetch his drink. He had barely enough time to gather his scattered wits and think of how to broach the subject at hand, when she promptly reappeared at his side, a long stemmed glass and some sparkling pink liquid in hand.
Merlin! Did she just Apparate?
"There you go, darling. You've never been here before, have you?" She inquired conversationally, and placed Draco's umbrella in the umbrella stand at the entrance.
Tentatively sipping on his drink, the blond shook his head no, and almost spluttered the contents over his pale blue ribbed twill shirt.
Why the bloody hell am I so flustered? Snap out of it, Malfoy!
If the shop assistant noticed his embarrassment, she certainly did not show it.
"I'm Zara. So…"
She gave the tall and handsome customer a questioning look. With his bespoke wardrobe, and air of aristocratic nonchalance the young man appeared distinctly more refined than the usual customer. Even though many preferred to remain anonymous, she almost expected him to introduce himself. Manners and all. But Draco didn't flinch under her inquisitive glance.
"... you must be the friend of Mr Zabini's! He's called ahead."
Draco turned beet–red at that exclamation.
"Well, as he might have already told you, Sh! usually only admits male customers when accompanied by a lady. You know, to build a safe environment for our shoppers."
How lovely. Now he had to put up with one of Zabini's bints on top of everything.
"So, as your companion is already quite busy with her shopping, might I help you with anything in particular?" She continued impassively.
The wizard hesitated.
"Are you… looking for something for yourself? For a… girlfriend? A boyfriend..?" The woman probed gently.
Draco coughed into his glass.
"No! No, no, boyfriend!" He spluttered with probably too much vigour, as Zara raised a strong and shapely eyebrow ever so slightly. "Not that there's anything wrong with… er…. No… also, err… no girlfriend. No."
Merlin's pants! He needed to get a grip on it.
"I'm… errr… I actually, sort of, erm…, you see…" Squinting his eyes in concentration, Draco desperately summoned all the courage he had to get on with the assigned task.
Gosh. This was harder than speaking to fucking Voldemort.
"I sort of want to... err… try something new. So, I… err, wanted to maybe explore the potentials of… err…. Female pleasure..?" Mortified, he flushed.
Zara smiled at him sympathetically. Well, wasn't he just adorable.
"You want to improve your orgasm–giving skills?"
"Yes!" Draco exclaimed with a heavy sigh of relief.
"That's a fantastic idea! And you've certainly come to the right place for that!" Zara regarded him with appreciation. Maybe the bloke wasn't quite too posh after all.
Actually, Blaise had tasked him to learn about the female orgasm, and buy at least two gadgets and one book to show for it.
"It's all very educational, you know. And Morgana knows you could use some help on that front", Blaise had drawled in his most patronising manner, swirling his tumbler. "Besides, one never knows what might come of it," he had added with a devilish grin.
Draco knew, of course, that his friend was simply out to embarrass him as much as possible. Why else would he have sent him to this particular Muggle shop at the other end of London on a Saturday at noon when most people were out doing their weekend shopping? He didn't even want to think just how many witches and wizards had seen him blundering about Muggle London.
"So, we can either go about this theoretically or practically, or with a combination of both. Would you prefer to inform yourself about the female orgasm and the techniques to bring a woman to climax? We have several books on the topic. Or were you rather thinking of stocking up on toys and material to help with a more hands on approach." Zara gave a throaty chuckle, obviously enjoying her own joke.
Draco relaxed slightly.
"Uhm... both... would be best, I suppose? I mean what use is all the theory if I can't put it into action, right?"
"Absolutely right," the young woman agreed.
Zara handed him a dainty lace and leather shopping basket, and led him to the far end of the room. After briefly explaining the history of the shop and how it originally had been dedicated to give women a safe and tasteful space to explore their sexuality, she went straight into it, and elaborated on the importance of lubrication. Apparently, even if aroused, women sometimes did not lubricate enough to enjoy penetration, or vice versa.
"The technical term for this is 'arousal non–concordance', and of course it's not a gender specific occurence. But as a man, you'd probably know that. It's rather fascinating, really, how out of sync our bodily responses can be with our feelings, or intellectual reasoning, wouldn't you agree?"
Merlin. Draco had not really expected to get educated today, especially not in a quite such a scientific manner.
This shop would be Granger's dream, he thought sardonically. Wet dream. He sniggered devilishly.
Zara went on.
"And this doesn't just apply to sexuality. I mean, probably everyone has this one kink, or harbours that secret attraction for someone. And even though we can't stop thinking about them, we don't dare act on our impulses, simply because we are somehow conditioned to perceive the act as wrong, be it for ethical, social, religious, or even political reasons."
Draco felt very caught, and chased the bookish brunette out his thoughts.
Not that he still had any problems with blood prejudice. And yet...
To calm himself, he took a healthy swig of his rosé.
"Anway… what I meant to say is, communication is key during any kind of sexual activity. Consent is crucial."
After a brief discussion about protection (unfortunately, Draco did not know what in Merlin's pants 'condoms' were, but apparently it was sufficient to know that he used 'other kinds' of protection), the shop assistant handed him a rather large bottle of water–based lubricant, to make sure he didn't run out quite too quickly.
He probably needed to ask Blaise if there was a spell for that sort of thing. It's not as if you're expecting any female company in the near future, a vicious part of his brain supplied, and it sounded dangerously like his best friend. Draco scowled, and with another healthy gulp finished his drink. He deposited the empty glass on the coffee table. Before he'd even realised it, the raven–haired seller had already hurried out of the room, and returned with a second glass of wine, filled to the brim.
Morgana, how does she move so fast?
"Right," she pushed the drink into his hand, contents swirling dangerously. He took a cautious sip to prevent the contents from spilling. "So, how do you feel about toys in the bedroom? Have you ever thought about that sort of thing?"
Zara led him over to the round table with the exhibited toys, and continued to elaborate on the merits of toys for couples, the different kinds of stimulation for women, and how vibrators, plugs, or dildos affected the female anatomy differently.
Oh, Gods.
Draco had yet to overcome his mortification in the face of the naughty... topics. However, Zara was doing an excellent job at discussing everything in such a matter–of–fact manner that he was now adamant to get his Galleons worth out of the experience.
Also, the alcohol was definitely helping.
He took another nip.
Nonetheless, he was still a bit sore about how Blaise had made fun of his lack of luck with the ladies the other day. It wasn't his bloody fault, after all, that being a former Death Eater wasn't the greatest turn–on for witches. Therefore, if he soaked up all the knowledge, and worked on his seduction skills, Draco reasoned, now that would certainly be a great way of establishing an improved rapport with the witches. And who knows, one day he might even be able to one–up his friend with his supposedly never ending stream of female conquests.
Joke's on you, Blaise, Draco thought defiantly. This is going to be so worth it!
So when Zara launched into the merits of anal play, and how satisfying this could be not only for a woman, of course, proper preparation and lubrication provided, the blonde managed to contain his embarrassment, and it only showed in the slightly rosy tips of his pale ears.
Intrigued, he chose a rather stylish spindly metal toy that apparently was applicable for both male and female pleasure points, as well as a pair of smaller silicon butt plugs.
"Remember, preparation is key. Also, a lot of women say that they prefer anal penetration when they are really, really horny. So, if your woman has never had it up her arse you might want to try this after you've already given her several climaxes."
Draco swallowed.
Several climaxes?
Unwittingly his mind conjured the vague image of a brunette witch writhing in pleasure beneath him, while he was feasting on her gushing lower lips, playing with her engorged…
"Speaking of which," Zara interrupted his wandering thoughts before he could embarrass himself.
Draco flushed scarlet. Oh gods, he needed to get a grip! This was for educational purposes. Concentrate, Malfoy! Stay focused! He gulped down some more of the rosy liquid.
"There is an art to giving and experiencing multiple orgasms. Most women think they can't achieve them because the clitoral glans can get overstimulated rather quickly. However, it all depends on the techniques of arousal."
Overstimulation? What? He'd always assumed that touching the rosy button in her centre equaled pleasure for a witch.
Zara now launched into a whole discourse about the anatomy of the vulva and the clitoris; how the latter was far too often reduced to the clitoral glans; how the major part of the organ was in fact not visible; and how the whole organ changed when aroused. She made a point that direct stimulation to the glans could be too much – or even painful – for a lot of women, and therefore a partner should take could good care of the whole vaginal area, seeing as the organ was far larger than generally believed. Finally, she elaborated on the types of orgasms a woman could achieve.
Draco suppressed the itching need to whip out quill and parchment to take notes.
Merlin, he was almost as bad as Granger. But it was all so very interesting.
What? Stop thinking of that swot! He immediately scolded himself. He definitely did not want to conditionalise himself to associate sex with Granger.
Ugh.
Grabbing his glass, he took a healthy swig.
And another, for good measure.
To stay engaged, he asked the shop assistant for more details about the clitoral area, about the differences of clitoral and vaginal orgasm, and what she meant by G–Spot stimulation. Zara explained a great deal more about the Gräfenberg spot, and showed him the types of hand motions and body positions that were beneficial. Picking one of books from the shelves Draco had been looking at earlier, she fleshed out her points by showing him several graphs and illustrations.
The book wandered into the basket.
"You know, every now and then, we offer men–only classes on female pleasure. Unfortunately, tonight's seminar is already fully booked, but if you wouldn't mind leaving us your email we can notify you as soon as we've set a date for the next one."
She now steered Draco towards a staircase that presumably led to another shop room in the basement. Not quite sure what an "email" was, he simply mumbled his appreciation and followed her.
The downstairs room was very similar to the one upstairs, although the items appeared to be distinctly more kinky. His gaze fell onto black feathers and masks, and then onto a vitrine that exhibited nipple clamps, different kinds of intimate jewellery, collars, as well as a variety of floggers, ticklers, and whips.
While the upstairs had a more classy appeal, the downstairs definitely was all about the closeted desires.
Like lace and leather, Draco thought, tasting his drink.
His gaze wandered to the right. At the far side of the room several more immaculately white illuminated shelves displayed smaller, tinted bottles, different coloured floggers and paddles, masks and feathers, as well as copious amounts of boxes and toys.
A slim blonde women also holding a glass of rosé stood next to a basket filled to the brim with what looked like a sea of lace. A metallic twinkle gave away that there had to be some erotic jewellery, too.
"Hi Steph," Zara greeted the woman, who acknowledged both of them with a friendly nod, and turned her attention back to the book in her hand.
Draco's interest, however, was caught by the longer wall of room that almost drowned in the sensual black of lace and ruffles.
Lingerie.
Draco swallowed.
He made out several garter belts and matching knickers, negligees, corsets, and teddies, as well as a whole variety of thigh–high stockings.
Since his Hogwarts days, he had definitely come to value the appeal of thigh–high stockings. There was just something about an attire that would read prim and proper in one moment, but could easily transform into the naughtiest, most sensual piece of clothing. Immediately, Draco's mind conjured the image of a young woman bent over a cauldron, long legs in stockings, a school uniform skirt riding up her shapely bum, and no knickers to keep his exploring hands away.
But it was another piece, that ultimately snatched his attention. As if in trance, Draco approached the wall, deposited his glass on a wooden table, and reached for the soft fabric of a sheer black dress.
Two broad strips of intricately patterned lace were draped over either side of the bust just so, that it would cover the breasts of its bearer. Criss–crossed satin strands adorned the deep, plunging neckline. A beaded detail swung dangerously to and fro, and he could easily imagine those black pearls adorning the valley between two luscious tits. The streams of lace flowed down the length of the dress to merge in a V–shape just where he imagined the crotch to be. Two satin strips on either side framed the lace and ended in suspenders, presumably to hold stockings.
Draco's fingers wandered over the uneven but soft material. He could only imagine just how exquisitely it would frame the swelling and dipping of a female body.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Zara walked up to stand next to him, and pulled the garment from the rack to present it approvingly.
"Yeah. It's exquisite," Draco mumbled. He couldn't quite make out why exactly he felt so affected. Maybe this dress was just one of the repressed erotic desires Zara had spoken of earlier.
"A masquerade dress. It actually comes with a matching thong, stockings, and,most importantly, a mask. It's a hit with the ladies. And gents," she added with a chuckle. "Oh yes, the art of seduction might just be the most important part of sex. After all, every orgasm starts in your head."
A still stunned Draco was led to a shelving unit that divided the room. Picking up the tinted bottles, she launched into the merits of massage oil as means to both relax and stimulate a partner.
Draco took the last sip from his glass, and studied the flasks of differently scented oils, while Zara showed him varying kinds of feather ticklers that apparently were another fun way to exploit heightened sensuality.
Fascinated by the edible oil, Draco studied a bottle of the chocolate flavour variety. He secretly wondered if this, too, could be conjured. A magical equivalent, he was sure of it, could probably offer a whole buffet of carnal delights. Or better yet, maybe one could equip the oil with sensual properties. Wouldn't it be fun to have the effect of both the feather tickler and the oil rolled into one? Draco definitely needed to look into magical erotic products.
He was so deep in thought about the possibilities of magical sensual pleasure that he barely noticed Zara disappearing to fetch him another refill.
Just when he decided to add some coloured peacock feathers and an array edible oil in various flavours to his shopping basket (for research purposes, of course, since he needed to get an impression what he was looking for when he attempted a magically improved version), there was a slight commotion on his left.
The blonde woman – Steph was it?– had been quietly reading a massive book (Draco could now make out its titel Breaking the Arrow. A Brief History of Forgotten Sexual Technique by Alistair Fowley), when a small door he had not noticed opened just a crack.
Steph looked up and deposited the book into the basket at her feet. A muffled female voice sounded from the other side of the door.
"Erm, Steph, would you mind taking a look at this?"
While Steph stepped over to the door leading, apparently, to a changing room, Draco glanced over to the almost bursting shopping basket. What had previously appeared to be a sea of lace, he now made out to be a variety of black knickers, and seamed stockings especially in satin and silk. Amongst several packets he was able to distinguish black open bottom knickers with a bow, as well as a see–through lace garter skirt. The metallic glint he had noted previously stemmed from a body–chain waist, a few sets of sparkly nipple–jewellery, as well as a pearl thong.
Draco gulped heavily.
His slight embarrassment notwithstanding, he found he was rather intrigued. Clearly, the basket belonged to the person behind the changing room door, whereas the other woman with whom Steph who was quietly conversing had to be another shop assistant. Glancing at the brimming basket, he wondered idly what the kind of modern woman might look like who would shop in a shop like this. Curious, he craned his neck to inspect the contents more closely, particularly to see if there were any toys. Sadly, the ridiculously large tome about historical sex very effectively shielded the contents from his prying eyes.
But judging from all appearances, the basket belonged to a woman who was very sure of her sexuality. This he could definitely tell. Whoever she was going home to, was, without a doubt, a very lucky; she probably was someone Zabini would love to entertain.
"No, darling, I don't think your too curvy at all; it positively caresses your body shape. You look bloody hot, and I think you should take it! I mean, I'd shag you right away."
Steph chuckled.
The wizard blushed red.
Oh dear Merlin, a lesbian. He knew that there had to be a catch to such a woman.
Oh yeah. And she's a Muggle, too, Draco scolded himself internally for letting his hormones run wild like that, and returned his attention to the edible oil.
The wizard had all but forgotten that Blaise, in fact, had to know the mystery woman, as she had been the reason he had been allowed into the shop in the first place. Also, with her being Blaise's acquaintance, she was not only almost certainly a witch, but also very probably heterosexual (or bisexual at least).
Draco, however, was far too inebriated thanks to an inexhaustible supply of rosé, and far too preoccupied by the erotic environment to make any such astute observations.
After a short deliberation, he selected four bottles, sniggering at the ridiculous puns that made up their indications (Creamy Vanilla, Popping Cherry, Mellow Melons, Luscious Lychees). Although he was no particular fan of some of these flavours, he was quite curious to see what their tastes and properties were, and how they could possibly be improved.
How very Malfoy of him, going into a sex shop for supplies, returning with a business idea.
Walking around the room divider towards the far end of the room and the parked basket, he was intrigued by several more toys, apparently for anal play. They almost looked like small, neon coloured stoppers with remote controls. Draco picked up one of the boxes to inspect the instructions, when there was a commotion behind him: a door opened and closed, and a "Ah, thanks so much, Steph" alerted him that the other woman had, finally, vacated the changing room.
Turning to see who she was, Draco's attention was immediately caught by the unbelievably erotic dress he had been gushing over earlier which now made its way out into the room. The young woman carrying the garment, and who – just seconds ago, apparently – had been wearing the incredibly sexy piece, now sported an understated yet contemporary look: a pearly white lace top peeped out of a black leather jacket, her shapely legs were draped into tight washed grey jeans over smart black lace shoes.
Under normal circumstances, Draco would've appraised her very attractive appearance; right this second, however, all he could manage was gaping. Caught in an emotional turmoil of embarrassment, shock, inebriation, and – oh gods – arousal, he just stood there and gaped at the wild–haired brunette that calmly walked into the room. He felt slightly dizzy. Sodding Salazar, he really should have been more careful with the wine.
"Well, hello there Malfoy. I was starting to think you had chickened out," she commented matter–of–factly, and placed the nefarious dress into her bursting shopping basket.
Granger.
Hermione sodding Granger.
Hermione sodding Granger was the companion Zabini had procured for him.
Hermione sodding Granger KNOWS about out the bet!
ZABINI, YOU FUCKING WANKER, I'M GOING TO BLOODY MURDER–
"Ah, I see you're about to discover the pleasures of prostate stimulation." The brunette witch eyed the butt plug in Draco's hands approvingly, and glanced at the several other anal toys he'd already selected. "Good choice, I suppose; although I was rather under the impression that Blaise had tasked you with learning about female pleasure." She arched an eyebrow, and grinned playfully. "But I do enjoy the ones you have there," and she pointed at the neon green anal toy in his hands.
Draco felt his head spinning. "You do?" was all he managed to utter, and dropped the toys into his assortment of selected goods, when Zara returned with his once again brimming glass.
"There you go, darling. Ah, Mione, did you take the dress then? Really lovely, innit. Draco was quite taken with it as well." She gave Hermione a meaningful look.
"Was he now?" The brunette picked up her basket, and gave the blond a mischievous smirk. "I never knew you swung that way, Malfoy."
"Do not!" Draco exclaimed, finally finding his voice again. He really had a hard time coming to terms with the present situation. And it certainly did not help that images of the swot extraordinaire in the sexy dress and several other of the racy pieces seemed to materialise in his consciousness every so often. He really had indulged a bit too much.
"Relax, Malfoy, I'm just teasing. I for one think it's brilliant you're exploring female sexuality. Even if Blaise pushed you to do it."
Before Draco even knew what to respond to that, Hermione bowed to inspect his basket with uninhibited curiosity. She picked out the book on Clitology. "Fantastic choice. It's a great introduction to everything you need to know, and not just concerning the anatomy of the clitoris." She nodded approvingly.
"Yes, Zara helped me with my… errr… shopping."
"Oh, Zara, I adore her. She actually teaches some of the courses for men, did she tell you."
Zara and Steph had suspiciously disappeared from the room as soon as the both of them had started talking. Hermione continued to look through his basket.
"Oh, she also gave you lube… there's a spell for that, you know." Rummaging through the contents she held up one of the bottles containing the edible oil. "Interesting, I've never actually tried these. Interesting choice. Now you might only need..." she put the item back into the basket, and added a black mask and feather tickler. "There you go. And if you want to fluster Blaise go show him these," she chuckled. Draco just watched incredulously as Hermione walked over to the one of the racks, picked out a set of nipple clamps, and dropped them unceremoniously into the shopping basket. "There, all set. What do you say?" The brunette smiled proudly at the blond.
Draco was still flabbergasted. "Err, Granger, not to be rude, or anything, but what in Merlin's name are you doing here?"
Hermione looked at him, thoroughly puzzled. "Why, I'm here as your female companion. And doing some shopping, obviously."
"Don't be daft, you know what I mean. What in Merlin's name do you have to do with Blaise? Why did he send you of all people!?"
"Well, as you very well know, we both work in the ministry, and we've worked together occasionally," the witch retorted. "While we were cooperating on a case in Non–Magical Relations last autumn, I think, he happened to stumble over my copy of Clitology I've lent one of my colleagues. We ended up discussing sexual education, and sexuality in general, you know, like it's importance for female empowerment and reclaiming your sensuality and such, and that's how I came to show him this place. He's been here a couple of times with me; he even attended one of the seminars, I think–"
"Zabini went to a course?" Draco blurted out. Now this was definitely an interesting turn of events. "Which one; the one where you learn about female pleasure?"
"You know, I never asked him," the witch mumbled, and she made towards the staircase to hide her burning cheeks. She might have told Malfoy just slightly too much.
Draco picked up his goods, and followed her up the stairs to cash register.
As alluring garment after alluring garment wandered into Hermione's shopping bags, Draco couldn't help but wonder how the bush–haired know–it–all teacher's pet had grown into this curvy and appealing woman who was now so very sure of herself and her sexuality that she didn't mind discussing orgasms, not even with him.
A set of handcuffs disappeared in the tote.
And apparently sure of her hidden desires as well. Draco immediately thought of what Zara had observed earlier: Everyone has this one kink that we can't stop thinking about.
Long after the purchases were made and paid for, and after they had said their goodbyes and thank yous, and after he and Granger had parted ways, amicably even, as Draco was still quite too overwhelmed by the whole situation to come up with his typical snarky retorts, he sat on the Muggle train, and his thoughts drifted to his Slytherin friend that had sent him on this very strange Saturday adventure. How very peculiar that Blaise had been at Sh!; several times even, if he was to believe the witch. And now that he came to think about it, Granger had never actually answered why exactly Blaise had picked her to accompany him. Did he, once again, miss what was going on in his friend's life? Were Blaise and Granger, in fact, more than just colleagues? The thought unsettled him. And not because of Granger's blood status, no he couldn't care less about that. But he couldn't shake the unmistakable feeling that, just like with Pansy and Theo, he was missing the obvious, and he didn't like the feeling one bit.
One sobering train ride later, Draco slowly felt his wits returning, and he grew considerately more irritated at the whole situation. How dare Zabini use the bet to humiliate him in front of Granger! This was unacceptable. The whole thing was meant to be a private bet between friends, and Zabini had misused his trust. Stomping agitatedly towards the Leaky Cauldron through the masses of tourists and weekend shoppers, Draco worked himself into a rage. He resolved that we would confront Blaise about Granger at the next opportunity, and demand to know why the bloody hell the damned swot had to be involved in the whole sodding affair. He pointedly ignored the tiny voice in his head reminding him that the whole experience had been a rather pleasant one.
Draco furiously clutched his shopping bags, and marched towards the Apparition Point. With a spin and a Plop he was gone, the cursive letters Sh! only lingering for a moment in the air where the agitated blond had disappeared just an instant ago.
The room around him was drenched into pitch–black darkness. But after a while, Draco's eyes made out the characteristic gloominess of the Hogwarts dungeons; the air cloudy with the thickening steams of blubbering potions.
Through the mysterious gleam and sparkle of the fires licking at the many cauldrons sat on top the tables, he recognised the blurry scenery as his Potions class.
The desk at the very front of the room was empty. Apparently the teacher had abandonded the class, but who it was (Was it Snape's class? Slughorns?), Draco could not tell. He looked around, and neither could he make out any of his classmates who were busily stirring their concoctions. His sight seemed to be heavily impaired by the dense vapours wafting to and fro over their bowed heads.
Amongst the faceless mass of preoccupied students a silvery sparkle in the front row caught his attention. A witch was bent low over her table, either intently studying the contents of her cauldron, or carefully reading the instructions. Thoroughly absorbed by her task, she did not notice her skirt riding up her bum, exposing the soft flesh of her stockinged long legs and her taut posterior, and a tell–tale white twinkle between her shapely cheeks.
The pearl thong, Draco realised with sudden, uncanny clarity. He did not stop to wonder how or why this thought had materialised.
The discovery induced a familiar swelling in his trousers.
Intrigued, he promptly left his table, and slowly approached the witch to closely inspect the delicate and oddly familiar piece of clothing.
Standing immediately behind the busy witch, Draco now made out the softness of her flesh, her muscles stretching and shifting as she bent low over her table whilst stirring the potion, the fabulous string of pearls sliding between her globes back and forth with every one of her movements.
His slacks were now becoming uncomfortably tight.
To reach for something in front of her, the witch now bent impossibly lower over the table, and slightly opened her stance. Mystified, Draco could now discern the rosy lips of her swollen pussy, clinging to the shining, sticky beads of the naughty garment, positively drenched in her arousal.
His cock jerked at the delicious sight.
Agitated, Draco looked around. Nobody noticed him. Peculiarly, the faceless class was still wholly absorbed by their tasks.
There was nothing to hold him back.
In one swift movement, he crouched down beneath her, grabbed her upper thighs, and licked her outer labia, passionately, greedily, with the pressure of his flattened tongue. He soaked up the musk, metallic scent of her arousal, and inhaled deeply.
Yesss!
To him she tasted like an exquisite red vintage, served with the most delicious French cheese and fig jam, sweet and tart and erotic.
Instead of protesting his sudden and outrageous advances, the witch lustfully moaned in response. She even widened her stance to allow him better access.
Draco tightened the grip on her legs, and playfully tugged at the chain. He drank in the sight of her glistening lower lips shifting and moving; the red and swollen flesh of her pearly nub glittering with arousal whilst stimulated with the pellet; the darker rim of arse gloriously adorned by the perverse piece of delicate jewellery.
The Draco couldn't withhold his desire for the witch, and lustfully latched his mouth onto her once again.
His tongue explored her outer folds, softly at first, stroking along the length of her sex to her puckered hole, probing for what gave her pleasure, what had her moaning and sighing with delight. He then swept along her inner folds, continuously tasting and suckling, probing and testing at her heated entrance with the tip of his tongue.
To the throaty sounds of her moans he applied ever more pressure to the spots that had her squirming in his hands. Continuously stroking and licking, he tensed the muscles of his tongue, poked and pushed her points of sweet pleasure, to her gasps of Oh yes!–Uuunnhhh!–Yes!–THERE!, all the while sampling and slurping her cream, pressing and feeling the coarse softness of her intimacy, until she was moaning and writhing and jerking with uninhibited desire, and her juices trickled in heavy drops over the shining pearls, over his lips, down onto his chin.
Draco couldn't stop. He was addicted to her taste. To her scent. To her moans. To the Please don't stop! Oh yes! Please! Yes, don't stop! that had his painfully aroused prick struggling and jerking against the tight confinement of his trousers.
But he kept on sucking and licking, he slid his flattened tongue over her folds, continuously circling, poking and stroking her flesh, until her legs were quivering and shaking in the tight grip of his hands, her body heaving with the need to explode, while she was now desperately panting and gasping for More! Oh yes, please! Give me more! Please! I need MORE!
The classroom and the bystanders were all but forgotten. In his lustful craze, all Draco could see was the wet and wanton witch leaning over the table, skirt bunched up, long legs in stockings spread wide, panting and moaning for him, beckoning him, the evidence of her arousal glistening on her thighs, and the delicate bead of pearls taunting him to sample the real treasures that lay hidden beneath.
In one swift motion, Draco opened his robe, zipped his fly open, and pulled out his hard cock, tip already leaking with anticipation.
Not even bothering to disrobe, he once again grabbed her thighs and, simply pulling the pearls aside, drove into her fleshy, pulsating heat.
Oh gods!
Pleasure! Pure Pleasure!
It was a feeling like no other, being fully encompassed by the warm, velvety slickness of a wanting witch. He could almost feel her juices leaking around him––no––he could hear her wetness as her pussy shifted and accommodated his swollen length.
Slowly easing out of her depths, Draco pulled her firm cheeks apart, and watched mesmerised how her glossy nether lips clung to his shaft, how the pearls carelessly shoved aside shifted back into place, and adorned their joint sexes as if they were a gloriously perverse work of art.
The witch moaned in delight, and widened her stance even more.
More, I want more, she panted. Give it to me. Fuck me hard!
Draco didn't need any further encouragement. Again, he drove into her weeping pussy. And again he slammed into her. Over and over and over again, he impaled her, he pounded into her, pushing her onto the table, all to the gratifyingly smacking sounds of their fucking.
Oh yes, witch! take me–take my cock!, Draco panted, and viciously rammed his rod into her again and again and again, as she cheered him on to go Harder! Mhh, so good… yes… unnhhh… fuck me! Yes, fuck me harder–HARDER!
He drove into her more roughly now, almost punishingly, snapping his hips against her buttocks, gyrating to reach that secret spot at the front of her walls. With every sudden, jerking movement he felt her quivering, panting, pushing to feel him even more deeply. With every snap of his hips he felt his end approaching.
He reached around her front for her dripping lips, to feel, to tease the swollen flesh of her centre. Touching and rubbing her slippery folds to the sharp rhythm of the urgent strokes of his dick inside her, he felt her legs starting to quiver and stiffen.
Pushing out her bottom to meet every jerk of his hips she drove him impossibly deeper, deeper and deeper still, into her molten core.
Encompassed by the tightness of her red, wet heat Draco felt his own pressure building and building, cheered on by every one of her gasped Yes! More! Oh yes! Fuuck! MORE!, and impossibly turned on by the slurping sounds of his rod driving into her depths.
His bollocks tightened, and his movements became more desperate. His teasing right hand at her sticky pussy lips was trembling, rubbing harder at her engorgend and stiffened pearl, as his left clenched around her leg to hold onto the crazed pace of their coupling.
The witch was panting hard now, she was shivering, and stiffening, and as he impossibly sped up the intensity of his fucking and his rubbing until he dragged her over the edge.
With a Yes! Oh, yes! F–Fuck, Malfoy! YES! UNHH! YEE–EESSSSS! her still fully clothed body shook and stiffened under him, as wave after wave of blissful release washed over her.
Draco grabbed her arse with both hands harder, and urgently slammed his cock into her wetness, fucking her through her release, again and again and again, driving himself towards the abyss, as her channel pulsated and tightened and jerked around him, cheering him on to follow her over the precipice.
With one hand he reached around to once again grab the string of pearls. The sight of his dick disappearing once, twice, thrice into her adorned and pulsating cunt pushed him over the edge, and an all–encompassing orgasm thundered through his stuttering and jerking body to the sounds of his delight
"OH YES! YEESSS! O GODS, YES, GRANGER – YES! UNNHHH!"
Flailing and twitching, Draco awoke with a start, his heart thudding frantically and almost painfully inside his chest.
Oh gods! Was he having a panic attack?
No, the sticky ropes of wetness still jerking into his pearl white silk sheets betrayed the origins of his agitation.
But no sooner had his orgasmic high ebbed away when his postcoital bliss transmuted into a fiery heat – the fiery heat of shame, now spreading through his exhausted limbs.
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckityfuck.
FUCK!
Agitated, Draco sat up. He had, apparently, embarrassingly, been dream–shagging Hermione bloody Granger in a pearl thong, in a full potions classroom no less.
Fucking wonderful.
Miserably, he eyed the treacherous mess in his bed that betrayed without a shadow of a doubt that the dream had been one of the most intense and erotic experiences of his life.
I am going to kill fucking Zabini, Draco thought moodily before he reached for his wand, and deliberated whether or not to obliviate himself.
Endnote: Thanks for reading (and making it to the end lol)! 3 Be sure to let me know what you liked about the story, so I can get a better grasp what works (and by omission: what doesn't) as I'm still fairly new writing fanfiction. Until next time, maybe with an Obliviated!Draco ;) - Cheers, Lynx