Written for the Masquerade Fest organised by the Dramione Fanfiction Forum 18+ on facebook, and published first on AO3. Rated for language and explicit smut. A big thank you to the members in the group who provided us with aesthetics 3.
The authors have been revealed and that gives me the chance to say proper Thank yous :).
All my love to Kyonomiko and Riptide who did fantastic jobs as alpha and beta readers. Without Kyonomiko, this story wouldn't even exist. You're both the best!
It's been fun writing this story, and I hope you'll like it!
Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.
12/02/18: minor edits
The air was stifling under his garish costume, and the heavy smell of food mixed with smoke, perfume, and sweat didn't help the matter at all. Draco ran a finger between his too-tight collar and his damp neck. If his mother weren't exactly that—his mother—he'd happily strangle her for making him appear at the latest Ministry folly they'd dubbed as 'Masquerade for the Mutual Understanding and Unity of Wizarding Kind and Magical Creatures'. The long title alone spoke volumes but the abbreviation was even worse.
"Think about our family, Draco," Narcissa had said.
"Think about our reputation," had been uttered, too, accompanied by, "And think about your redemption."
The pleading "Think about all the eligible witches there" had had him almost bolting out of his ancestral home, heirloom and legacy be damned. But she was one of only two people who knew exactly which strings to pluck to obtain the desired effect.
So, the final nail in his proverbial coffin had been a breath of "Draco, can't you do it for me, your loving mother?" And he'd been doomed to six hours of boredom, and even worse, brainless chitchat of ministry officials and—he literally shuddered—pure-blood heiresses.
His eyes scanned the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt laughed with Potter, probably about the latest charity Quidditch match they'd both participated in. Weasel chatted up a secretary from International Wizarding Sports. Why the fit bloke would even give the redhead the time of day would stay an eternal mystery, but being associated with a war hero probably had its perks. The Weaselette had her claws on Blaise's arm, and Draco wondered if this evening would end like similar evenings had ended before. With Zabini being balls-deep in the Weaselette. The unbidden mental picture of when Draco had stumbled in on them one drunken night was still scorched onto his retinas.
He idly wondered if the Weaselette was complaining to Granger like Blaise always complained to him. Pouting and sulking and miserable might be more appropriate words for Blaise's state after these types of events, though. Those two needed to get their shit together, lest they drive all of their friends to St. Mungo's Closed Ward for the Mentally Unstable.
Draco adjusted the ridiculous—beautiful, and expensive, and of excellent craftsmanship, but still ridiculous—dragon mask on his face. Not like his shock-blond hair wouldn't give him away, anyway, but he had the vague suspicion that his mother might've tampered with the fit of the bloody thing on his face with a cleverly concealed spell, uncomfortable as it was.
He hadn't seen her yet, but the whispered possibility of it was the true reason he'd attended tonight. Weaving through the masses, he put his forearms on the simple counter of the bar and ordered a neat firewhiskey before he finally sensed her next to him. Actually, it had been the familiar scent of knowledge and righteousness. He had to admit that it probably was parchment and a hint of gardenia and vanilla to other people but he himself liked to see the bigger picture of her.
He took a sip of his whiskey and said, "Granger. Finally spruced up your sneaking skills?"
From the corner of his eye, he saw the quick motion of her finger and the determined order of a glass of red wine. It was amazing how easily Granger had all of the Ministry under her thumb, even the nondescript barkeep of an official function, judging by the extraordinary speed with which her order had been filled.
He probably should be grateful that he hadn't been spat at in the past four years and not complain about how quickly she got her drink, but nevertheless, his whiskey lost a bit of its appeal after those memories. He swallowed more of it, trying to wash the taste down.
Granger leaned her back against the bar and settled her elbows onto it, downing a big gulp of her wine. "Awfully exciting costume, Malfoy."
He turned his head and swept his glance from her crown to her shoulders down to what little he saw of the rest of her black, glittery dress. Her skin was very pale and veiny with a network of small red vessels just under the surface, her eyes looked like a sloppily charmed conjunctivitis, and her sleek French knot was streaked with a couple of white hairs. Alas, some women would just spell over their first grey hair but Granger was probably above that. It suited her. A lot, really, although it was a little unexpected because they hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her. But didn't people always say that women in their thirties were at their pinnacle, especially sexually?
He looked straight ahead again, took another small sip of his drink, and let the burn roll around in his mouth. "Awfully innovative costume, Granger. Did that promotion to Head of Magical Creatures finally go to your—" He motioned a small circle around his temple. "Some might call it appropriation, you know."
She scoffed. "In contrast to most people, I do know what I'm representing here."
"But a vampire? Of all the costumes you could've chosen."
She flashed a tiny smile, just enough to show the tips of her fangs. Her spellwork was really exceptional; he had to give her that. It was oddly erotic, too. "I didn't feel like werewolf lately. All the hair..."
He laughed. "I would pet your head for that wise decision but seeing your mane tamed for the first time in literally years, I refrain from it. Wouldn't want to mess with hours and hours of competent work of a hair witch."
"It's been behaving beautifully recently, thank you very much." She glared at him and he looked at her red lips and the hint of teeth she showed with her answer.
"I'll take your word for it, Granger."
"Not like you have much of a choice."
"True, I've never seen your morning hair."
Her flinch was small, and involuntary, but it was there. "You never made the impression you'd like me to stay long enough for that."
He felt his pulse rise and turned fully to her. "Fuck you, Granger." Taking a side step, he crowded her against the counter, pressing between her legs and putting his hands firmly on the edge of the counter behind her. "What do you think it is that we've been doing for the last year and a half? I'm sick and tired of attending those bloody Ministry functions to see you because you wouldn't give me the time of day outside of them or work. And where the fuck have you been in the past two months? Your fucking files were on lock, too."
"Busy." She swallowed. "Out of England. For a while."
He scrutinised her face, his eyes jumping from one of her red-rimmed ones to the other. "Where?"
"Romania. Among others."
"That dragon-wrestling Weasley brother is there, right?" He felt an icy knot in his stomach and gripped the edge harder.
"Yes," she admitted. "But it's not what you think!"
"What do you think I think?"
"He's a friend. Family."
He harrumphed. "A friend who kept you from Britain for months."
"I already told you that it wasn't my only stop," she hissed. "You'd better learn to listen. And it's not like we have a relationship which requires me to inform you of my whereabouts." She put her palm onto his chest with the last couple of words, pressing it against his muscles. It felt as unbendable as her iron will but before he could retort, he felt a big hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a bit harder than a friend would.
"Is everything alright, Hermione?" Potter asked, and increased the pressure on the other man's shoulder. Draco looked at the hand and then at Potter, raising his eyebrow in mockery. He straightened his back but didn't move away from Granger.
She rubbed her hand over her face and suddenly looked very tired. "As well as expected."
Draco shrugged off Potter's grip. "Granger's probably more capable than you, Potter. She won't need your help."
Potter's eyes darted to Hermione who scrunched her nose and pointedly didn't look at him. "I'm not a youngling anymore, Harry. I can handle it."
"Hermione, you know it's not easy to—"
"I said I'll be alright." Granger's voice had that demanding undertone Draco really liked, especially since it was directed at The-Boy-Who-Outlived-All-Common-Sense. He smirked, and sidled up to Hermione's side, slipping his arm around her waist. She stiffened first, and then relaxed against him. Of course, the bead of sweat running down his back wasn't because he half-expected to at least receive a stinging hex.
"If you say so, Hermione. You don't have to work with him come Monday. Just make sure not to leave everything in a mess. I won't clean up after you."
She sent her oldest friend a grim smile. "Noted."
Potter sent a calculating look at Draco, and then gave a curt nod before he turned around.
"We need to talk, Malfoy."
"Agreed. That, and some other things, too." Having manoeuvred the cockblocking wanker out of the way, he felt victorious and confident that he'd feel Granger's warmth all around him very soon. He'd missed that in the past months. Hell, he'd missed her.
Blaise had the bloody nerve to tip two fingers at his temple in a mock-salute, all while he'd a hand so low on the Weaselette's back that it didn't even border on indecency anymore. Draco gave them another ten minutes—maximum—before they would head out, too.
Lifting the feathery green debacle called mask off his face, he steered Granger to the coat racks, and didn't resist running the tips of his fingers along her collarbone when he helped her into her outer robes. Her breathing hitched, he noted with satisfaction.
After stumbling through the chimney into her flat, he quickly took in the layout of the furniture and checked for potential escape routes. Being an Auror for twelve years ingrained certain patterns.
Hermione cast a short spell to dust them off of the floo powder and ash, and pointed at different spots. "Floo's warded against all except very few close people. Door's Muggle-repellent, and equipped with various layers of jinxes against magical and Muggle intruders, and there are windows in each room, warded the same way. My whole flat is unplottable in general. I've cast the spells myself, with help of Harry and Ron. Happy?"
Draco doubted that her wards were as powerful as the ones on Malfoy Manor but her work sounded sensible and impressive, nevertheless. It wasn't her fault that she didn't have generations of determined witches and wizards adding their blood to all protection spells. He nodded.
She sighed, and headed further into her flat. "Tea? Or something stronger?"
"Tea, please," he answered and followed her into the small kitchenette. She filled a pot and set it on the stove when he moved behind her to put one hand on her hip and pet it a little. His other plucked at the strap on her shoulder and he pressed a faint kiss on the bare skin visible. "You look amazing in that dress but it needs to go off."
Her back fell against his chest with a heavy breath and he let his hands rove across her front. They wandered from her hips and shoulder across her soft tummy in leisurely circles, and slightly increased the pressure when he reached the underside of her full tits. She didn't wear a bra.
"Good?" he asked, well aware that his recent discovery almost made him croak. At her whispered More he finally cupped and kneaded the ample flesh, careful of not yet touching her nipples which were surely straining for him now. His cock throbbed against her round arse and he felt the small swings she made with it. He considered ripping her dress in two and bending her over in an instant, but the shrill whistling of the kettle disturbed his spontaneous plans, and he let her go with a firm pinch on both nipples. The loud gasp spilling from her lips and her trembling hands when she brewed their cups were a pale substitute for burying himself in her wet heat.
He'd have to be patient tonight. Undoing the top button of his shimmery green shirt, and more or less discretely adjusting his trousers to give himself just a bit more room, he then took both cups out of her hands and sauntered back to her living room. Draco thought he'd need a large amount of Slytherin finesse to obtain what he really wanted. But considering Granger's inherent Gryffindorness, a more direct approach might work better. He'd have to wing it.
"Milk and sugar?" She asked without looking at him but gesturing at the couch.
"Yeah." He added three cubes and a splash of milk after he took his seat, leaving some room for Hermione to join him. The only other chair in the room looked terribly uncomfortable. Stirring the sugar in until it dissolved, he eyed the rows of books covering the two largest walls in the room, and then he blew on the hot liquid before a careful sip. He felt her stirring, a movement that might've been her thighs pressing a tad closer together. If he knew her, she'd be as turned on from the short foreplay in her kitchen as he. In any case, his dick ached with longing for her and he entwined his fingers with hers, leaning back on her couch and tugging on her arm to follow suit. Her rigid back looked painful, and he needed her much more relaxed to make this night good but they both didn't seem to be able to find the right words.
Awkward. That was the only really fitting expression for the ensuing silence. He knew she wanted to sleep with him, and Salazar help him, he wanted that, too. But in contrast to the heated previous encounters, this one was different. For one, they were sitting on a couch, next to each other, and drinking tea instead of ripping each other's clothes off. The one thing he knew for sure was that he wouldn't sneak out of her bedroom like she'd always done with his. He'd even spell himself to her bed posts, if necessary.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed soft pecks onto her fingers, hoping to ease the tension a little. She flexed them, and he nipped the tip of one, running his tongue along the digit.
"I've got a proposition for you."
Hermione finally relaxed against the back seat of her furniture and tilted her head towards him, regarding him from the corners of her eyes.
"Let's have glorious sex, sleep in tomorrow, have sex again, then have a lazy Sunday with more sex, and I'll take you out for dinner."
She snorted. "Did you come up with that amazing plan all by yourself?"
"What can I say? I'm brilliant."
"We never do that."
"Time for something new then."
She hummed into her cup, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. Not one to give up easily, he started to suckle on her fingers and then kiss her palm and wrist, slowly moving to the inside of her elbow where he drew a wet circle with his tongue. Hermione set her tea on the table and squirmed closer before he pulled on her insistently enough to make her straddle him. Her skirt pushed up high on her thighs, she moaned when he trailed his mouth across her cleavage to move it back down on the opposite arm.
Draco made a show of sucking on each digit, releasing the last one with a pop, and stroked his palms over her naked legs until his thumbs pressed into her inner thighs. She moaned into his ear and then, at sweet last, kissed him with all the passion she'd shown him in their previous encounters. He revelled in it, sucking on her bottom lip and her tongue. Hermione framed his face between her hands and looked into his eyes.
"Is this what you want? Am I what you want?"
"Yes. You know it's true."
"Oh sweet Circe," she mumbled between sloppy kisses. He traced her slit through the lace of her underwear, feeling the wetness seeping through. His cock jerked a little when he realised that she must've removed all hair. He'd read everything felt more intense for women like that, and he'd remember to find out if that was true. Her hips undulated against his too-hard cock, giving him no reprieve at all. He just might come in his pants like that, and it wouldn't be the first time anyway. Pushing the sticky cloth to the side, he moved one thumb along her smooth, soaked labia until he reached her clit and then stilled. She whined into his neck and he smirked.
"Come on, Hermione. You know what to do. Look at me."
She lifted her head, and he swiped his thumb over her nerve centre, admiring her pupils blowing out and the gasp which left her throat. He repeated the movement, enticing her to arch her back and press her hips against his hand to gain more friction for herself but also against his still clothed cock.
His other hand moved to her arse and squeezed it, then wandered up her side and tried to pull the zipper of her dress down. The bloody thing stuck halfway. "Off. This needs to go off."
"You too." She tightened her legs around his lap and plucked at his shirt before she stood up and shimmied out of her clothes. He popped off one or two of his own buttons while he was busy watching her, and he was lucky that he'd already had his trousers and boxers down when she turned her back and bent forward to give him a prime view of her soft, round arse. He groaned and fisted his cock to give it a few tugs, watching her pulling her knickers down slowly. The cloth stuck a little to her soaked cunt, and he couldn't resist spreading those pink lips with one hand and enjoying the view.
Hermione wriggled her bum in an invitation he gladly accepted. The smack on her cheek made her yelp but when he pushed first his index and then his middle finger in, he knew he did exactly what she wanted from him. He increased the speed of his hand on his dick, spreading the fat drops of precome with a firm swipe of his palm across the ruddy head, and watched his hand print on her arse acquire a red shape.
"More," she panted, and he fit in another finger, making sure to twist his wrist with every pull out of her to drag his fingertips over that little sweet spot inside. She contracted her muscles, making him groan. His hand was wet by now, and he was close already, but he wanted to feel her when he came, so he pulled his fingers out. Fascinated by the long string of her arousal connecting his fingers and her cunt until it snapped, he released his grip on his cock and tugged on her hip instead to make her straddle him with her back against his chest.
"No going back after that, Hermione," he warned her and sucked hard on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. It turned a lovely dark red in the shape of his mouth. "No hiding, no secrets, no disappearances." She nodded frantically and tilted her hips a bit to get a better angle. Her pussy was hot against the crown of his cock, and all he could do was let her take initiative and try not to blow his load the first five centimetres in. His wet hand kneaded one breast while his other one gripped her hip, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow's admiration. He dropped his forehead against her shoulder when she took her sweet time to settle onto him, knowing that it would take her a bit to get accustomed to his size again. He groaned from the bottom of his heart. She was slick and tight around him, the slow slide down on his length pure torture when all he really wanted to do was fuck her into next week, and the months and years after that, as well.
Trying for a distraction, he started to pull out the myriad of hair clips out of her up-do. The straightening charm lost a bit of its effectiveness when he scraped his nails over her scalp, making her purr. She sounded deliciously content.
In the light of her living room, more of those light-gray hairs were visible throughout her curls, and he buried his nose in them, taking a deep breath of her scent. He snaked his hand back to her front and started to roll her nipples between his fingers. She finally, finally moved her hips, setting a slow rhythm which caused him to babble into her hair.
"Such a good, sweet witch, fucking yourself on my cock. Keep it slow, Hermione. I don't want to come yet."
"Mmmh, yes."
He tugged on her nipples harshly, and then moved both hands to her hips to bring her down on him more forcefully. She squealed with every drop and he grinned against her spine.
"Come on, turn around. I want to see you when you come." He winced at the sudden loss of warmth on his cock and watched her tits wiggle when she bent a little forward to grab his cock, and aligned herself with him. His witch was nothing if not thorough. She'd charmed all of her body; even her breasts were so pale that her blood vessels were clearly visible through the soft, thin skin. He pressed a kiss on her jaw and said, "You can drop the charms now, you know?"
"Can't," she pressed out between laboured pants. She bounced faster on him, and his eyes were glued to her jumping breasts while he tried to catch one with his lips. Hell, he had problems even remembering his own name, not to mention cancelling any charms. All he could think about was her slick grip on him, those delectable tits evading his tongue, and her increased moaning which indicated her approaching orgasm.
She put her hands on his knees and leaned back, making his stare wander down to where they were connected. That scene never stopped to amaze him. The way her pink, wet cunt stretched around his girth. The way her glistening inner labia would drag along the smooth skin of his cock, leaving visible traces of her arousal on him. The way she'd flex those wonderful inner muscles from time to time, making his breath hitch in pleasure.
He finally managed to close his mouth around one nipple and sucked on it without much finesse, lifting her breast closer to him with one hand while the other one on her hip tried to slow her down because he was really close now, damn it. She still seemed to like it according to her louder moans whenever his teeth nipped the hard peak. This was perfection, with his cock hilted inside of her and his lips sucking her breast, eliciting all those wonderful sounds. If he'd die like this, he'd die a happy man.
She moved his hand from her hip to her arse and tugged on his hair strongly enough with the other one to make him release her red, swollen nipple. He eyed it hungrily before he let her tilt his head back and hover her lips just a fraction from his. "Spank me a little, Draco."
His heart stumbled. She'd only asked him once before, and that had been the night where he'd seen her the most uninhibited. The night where he honestly thought she'd stay and wake up together with him instead of disappearing before he even realised he was human with the blissed out state he used to be in after a night with her.
Draco kissed her furiously, and brought down his hand hard, hearing the smack loudly in his own ears. She wailed into his mouth, and he was ready to apologise when she choked out a breathless More. He spanked her again, watching her eyes roll back in her head and feeling her cunt increase the pressure on his cock. He was so fucking ready to come.
Easing a bit on the force of his smacks and alternating the angle to not hit the poor same spot again and again, he jerked his hips up forcefully with every slap. Hermione's sharp little teeth appeared between her lips with every wail. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
"Draco, I'm gonna—"
"Come on. Be a good little witch and come on my cock," he grit out, barely holding back his own orgasm.
"Yes. Oh fuck. Yes!" With a shout, she clamped down on him, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and trembled against his body.
He released hot and long spurts into Hermione's contracting pussy as they both climaxed with only a few seconds apart. He knew his look betrayed all the adoration he felt for her when she lifted her head a short time later, especially since she was the only one to complement his personality and life goals perfectly. His hands were warm against her slightly cooler skin, and when he noticed how her bloodshot eyes were suddenly a dark and dangerous crimson, things started to fall into place.
The tips of her canines seemed longer and much pointier than earlier, and before he could even finish speaking her name, she'd sunk her teeth into his carotid artery and sucked.
Now, I'm very curious if you were able to pick up the hints :).
And don't fret, there's some sort of epilogue ;).
Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.