WARNING: Some of you may have read an earlier, fluffier version of this story as a tumblr post that I wrote for lightofevolution. This version is longer and much, much smuttier, with some dub-con notes.
PART ONE
—
She was going to kill Lavender. Give an inch and the woman takes a mile.
Hermione took a breath to calm down. Merlin, how did she even end up in this position? Sure, maybe some of it was overcompensation. She wanted to seem fine that Ron had moved on with Lavender. To prove just how fine she was, she even agreed to help her old Hogwarts roommate with her new business, Enchanted Relaxations. What started off as a coffee meeting to lend an eye to Lavender's bank loan application quickly escalated into somehow being involved in all aspects of the venture. Didn't she know Hermione had her own full-time job at the ministry? Then again, being considerate had never been Lavender's strong suit.
Hermione had been okay helping with the behind-the-counter and back office work here and there, but this was where she should have drawn the line.
—
"It's just a massage," Lavender had pleaded. "A one-time thing! I don't know how I managed to double book. It won't happen again I promise."
"What do you mean, just a massage? I'm not even a licensed therapist!"
"It's not that hard. Just slap some elixirs on their back and rub it around."
"Lavender!"
"Trust me. It's not hard at all. It's just a sixty-minute thing."
"JUST SIXTY MINUTES?"
"Yeah."
"Just have them reschedule!"
"Absolutely not! This is a new business. I can't afford to be canceling appointments."
"Lavender..."
At the pleading look in the other woman's large brown eyes, Hermione sighed in resignation.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You are the best."
"You owe me. Big."
—
The cherry on top of the pie, which of course Lavender had neglected to initially mention, had been that the client in question was Draco "Poncy Git" Malfoy.
Yeah sure, he was in many ways reformed. Certainly, he had renounced his family's obsession with pureblood supremacy and now was a prominent donor to all sorts of charities. And fine, according to Ron and Harry, he'd become a fairly decent Auror as well. Still, he was always in the society pages with a never-ending parade of models. And he had sneered at her dress at the last Ministry ball. Flustered, she called him a ferret, to which he rolled his eyes and called her a menacing swot.
So, he absolutely was still an awful, poncy git. Furthermore, how would he feel about Hermione Granger giving him a massage? He'd probably toss her out of the room immediately, which on one hand would be quite humiliating. On the other, she wouldn't have to go through with it after all.
Of course, the first thing he did when she walked in the room was complain. He was face-down on the massage table, and didn't even bother to look up at the lowly masseuse assigned to him. Typical.
"You're late. Do you know how long you've kept me waiting?"
He's only been waiting for three minutes, Hermione thought. What a self-important git.
"I'm so sorry," she said sweetly. "We were mixing together the perfect set of elixirs and charmed lotions for your relaxation."
If he thought her voice sounded familiar, he didn't let it show.
"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just get a move on."
"Of course, sir. Just one minute."
"You're going to keep me waiting longer?"
"It will be worth the wait, sir."
Hurriedly, Hermione shuffled into the side room where the aforementioned elixirs and charms were stored. She scanned the bottle labels. Exactly what lotions would make Malfoy less of a wanker?
"Still waiting!" she heard him call from the other room.
Screw it. She didn't have time to properly look through the hundreds of vials. She was closest to the R's in the collection she had so painstakingly helped Lavender alphabetize several weeks ago. She grabbed three sitting next to each other - "Reinvigoration," "Relaxation," and "Revirilization" - and poured healthy dashes of each into the mixing vessel.
Back in the room, Malfoy was as impatient as ever.
"Get a move on!" He barked as she strode up to the table.
Hermione silently flipped him off.
"Of course, sir," she said soothingly, as she flicked her wand to light the incense and put on the new age mood music that Lavender had curated.
She drew back the sheet covering his back. Of course, he had muscles. Ruddy arse probably spent all his free time at the gym.
Carefully, she poured some of the mixed elixirs on his back and nearly jumped as he flinched.
"Cold!" he snapped. "What are you? New?"
"My apologies, sir," she said, with a roll of her eyes and cast a quick warming charm.
Gingerly, she dipped her hands in the remainder of the mixture. She thought back to Lavender's instructions to "Rub it around."
Here goes nothing, she thought.
Then her hands were on Malfoy's back, kneading the magical mixture into his skin. It was pleasantly warm, if she did say so herself.
She started at his neck and worked her thumbs down his spine. Then, she traveled back up from his lower back, applying firm pressure with the heels of her palms.
She felt she was doing a pretty good job, given that he hadn't complained in five whole minutes. It must be doing wonders for him, for even with the bit she had on her hands, she felt a calm wash over her - perfectly relaxed, rejuvenated, and whatever that last vial was.
In her exploration of his back, she found that he had knots everywhere, likely a long-term effect of being tortured with the Cruciatus. Indeed, several of Lavender's clients sought magical massage as a means to cope with chronic pain residual from Dark torture spells. It felt like an invasion of Malfoy's privacy to suddenly know this about him.
Even with the knots, he really did have a beautiful back, smooth and unblemished and so perfectly sculpted. He had nice arms too. Dipping her hands back in the magical mixture, she slathered a healthy amount across his shoulders, around his deltoids, and worked it down his triceps and biceps. Merlin, he must be strong. She could barely circumvent his upper arms with both her hands. When she got to his forearms, images began fill her mind of sinewy muscles flexing around a woman's flesh. He had beautiful hands too, large and elegant with long, dexterous fingers.
She felt herself getting hot. Perhaps she had gone overboard with the warming spell.
To be fair, it had been months since her last date, a one night stand with some bloke from accounting that left her high and dry. She always took care of herself with her trusty vibrator, but there was something about being fucked properly that sex toys couldn't quite replicate.
All she could think about as she pressed her fingertips into his flesh was how much she wanted to be touched. She didn't want him per say, but someone like him, tall and strong, with all the stamina to rectify how empty her pussy suddenly felt. She was getting wet, then wetter, with no relief except to flex her inner walls over nothing.
Merlin, it really was warm in here.
He shifted slightly beneath her ministration, and flushing, she remembered the skills in Occlumency he had gained as a teenager. Well, he certainly wasn't looking in her mind right now. After all, Malfoy would be downright revolted at the thought of herself as a sexual being.
She looked up at the clock. They were barely halfway through his appointment time.
She was back to massaging his back now, every so often slathering more of the elixirs onto his flesh.
He shifted again and she felt his muscles tighten.
"Everything alright?" she asked in her best soothing voice.
"Fine," he answered after a pause. He sounded as cold and distant as ever, a good reminder that this was Draco Malfoy, and not some Thor-like sex god. Just a poncy git with too much hair gel and a perpetual sneer, who used his family's coffers to get ahead in life.
Still, his skin felt good against her hands. Her underwear was distinctly damp now. She looked up at the clock again. Another twenty-five minutes to go. She almost moaned in frustration.
Down his back, then up again. More elixir. Repeat.
Despite her efforts, he tensed more and more, shifting frequently now beneath her hands. She tried harder, applied more pressure, found every single little knot and kneaded in the elixirs.
"Stop!" he commanded abruptly. He sounded angry.
She paused mid-motion, her hands still pressed against his lower back.
"Am I doing something wrong?"
"Get out."
"Sir, if you could just tell me what I'm doing wrong-"
"Are you daft? Get the fuck out!"
She felt herself getting angry now. The nerve of him. Still as rude as ever.
"Sir," she began, her tone firmer now.
"Shut up."
"If you could -"
"Stop."
"But -"
"Fuck! Get the fuck out. Now!"
"No!"
He twisted around at this. Then he was looking up at her and briefly, the look of fury on his face was replaced with surprise.
"Granger?"
He scrambled up to a sitting position, bunching the sheet around his waist.
She gasped before she could stop herself. His chest and abdomen were unsurprisingly defined with thick slabs of muscle, but what drew her shock were the scars. She had forgotten about the Sectumsempra Harry has cast in sixth year. Dozens of slashes marred his flesh, healed ungracefully into long and jagged silvery ridges, that contrasted so jarringly against the smooth flesh of his back.
When she looked up at his face, he was full force glaring at her.
"What the fuck?"
"Uh... you see, Lavender had double-booked the time slot and-"
"And she thought she could send in the Head of the Magical Creatures department as a replacement? Tell me, have you ever even given a massage before?"
Hermione bristled at his scorn. "What? Don't want a mudblood touching you?"
"Fuck you, Granger. I haven't used that word in ages."
"You might still think it though."
"You damned swot. You really think you know everything, don't you?"
"I didn't say that."
"That's right. You don't know what's going on in my head-"
"That's all I was asking, was for you to tell me what was wrong so I could fix it-"
"Granger. I need you to get the fuck out."
"No!"
He stood up then and loomed over her, and she became all too aware of how she was less than a foot away from a naked Draco Malfoy with nothing but a sheet between them. His grey eyes were dark with fury as he moved closer to her.
She stood her ground. She knew exactly what this was - intimidation, and she was not about to let him push her around.
"That was the last warning." His voice was low and gravelly.
There in that small room, filled with incense and meditation music, she knew she should be scared to be alone with a man much bigger than she was, not to mention one that had always been a bit cruel to her. It made no sense, but she felt no fear. Rather, she felt she couldn't step away from whatever this was. She was undoubtedly aroused, all too aware of the pebbling of her nipples and the sopping mess that was her underwear. Merlin, what was wrong with her?
He tucked the sheet around his waist and then reached for her hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, as he raised them to his chest.
"Please," he said, stepping closer. "If you don't leave, I don't think I can control myself, not even if it's you."
She felt it then, as he moved flush against her - his erection large and stiff and pressed against her belly. Her mind started to go blank. All she wanted then was to reach down and wrap her hands around him, to sink to her knees and -
Wait.
Through her lust, she managed to process his words.
"Even if it's me?" She couldn't hide the hurt in her voice.
She pulled her hands back and dropped them to her side.
"No!" he snapped. "Fuck. That's not what I meant. Fuck!" He ran his hands through his hair. She watched mesmerized as several blonde locks fell out of his place. Another wave of heat rolled through her body. She was staring at his lips now, as they continued to move.
"Fuck, Granger, what did you put in that lotion?"
She tried her best to keep her voice even as she spoke. "Well, the arsehole client was rushing me - I just grabbed the three closest elixirs."
"Fuck," he said again. "I want you so badly"
She wanted him too. It would be so easy to lean back in and slip off her blouse and -
Somewhere in her mind, where intelligent thought still existed, she knew that something had gone wrong. With horror, she realized that she must have added some kind of aphrodisiac component to the mix. If the bit she had on her hands made her feel this way, then he must be burning up from the loads she'd slathered onto his body.
She tried to step back, but he reached out and held her steady against him.
"Please," he groaned. "Don't storm away just yet."
"Even though I'm a swot and a muggleborn?"
He half-chuckled, half-grimaced.
"You're my favorite swot, and I don't give a fuck that you're muggleborn. I only meant I wouldn't want our first time to be like this-"
"Our first time," she repeated, stunned.
"Yes, Granger. I've wanted you for ages."
"But the models you go out with! The Witch's Weekly articles!"
"Been reading about me, have you?"
She blushed and looked away, her gut twisting in shame. She had revealed too much, and he would never let her live this down later after he'd had her and tossed her aside.
Gently, he lifted her chin and turned her gaze back to him. "They're not you. I keep trying to date other women, but none of them are you."
He sounded so sincere, his grey eyes soft and gentle. He was beautiful like this, and some silly, fairy-tale-influenced part of her felt privileged to get to see this side of him.
So, this was what it was like to be seduced by Draco Malfoy.
Even under the influence of the elixir, she knew better than to actually believe him. He had a well-established reputation for sleeping around and she was certain he knew all the right things to say to get into a woman's pants. Still, would it be so bad to just let it happen? They were both single, consenting adults after all. And it hurt how much she wanted him.
It was too much. His pretty words, the incense, the lust inducing magic. She leaned in then and kissed him.
He kissed her back hungrily. His hands were in her hair, pulling her head back as he ran his mouth down her neck. She heard the tearing of fabric and gasped as she realized he had ripped her blouse straight down the middle. She didn't mind though. This was exactly the pace she needed him to go. He roughly shifted her bra down and teased her nipples with his tongue and teeth and fingers.
"So sensitive," she heard him say. "So beautiful."
"Please," she moaned, as pleasure and want jolted through her body. "Oh my god, please."
"Tell me what you want, Hermione."
"You," she answered, as she impatiently pulled away the sheet from around his waist. His length was impressive, thick and weeping with precum. She encircled him with her hand and gently ran her thumb around the tip, before settling into a rhythm of jerking him off.
"Oh, fuck," he groaned and pulled her mouth back to his. He nibbled at her lips and swept his tongue across hers, all the while unbuttoning her pants and slipping his hand into her underwear.
"Merlin, you're wet."
"Ohhhhhhh." The initial contact of his palm against her clit was somehow painful and relieving at the same time. Then, his digits were inside her and pulsing against that special spot and holy shit it wasn't fair that he could so casually make her feel like this.
"You're dripping. Fuck, you're squirting!"
She was seeing stars and she couldn't believe that she came so hard on just his fingers.
"Please, I need you inside me," she begged.
He didn't need to be told twice. He quickly summoned his wand and transfigured the massage table into a bed. Before she could process how efficiently he'd done the magic (it clearly wasn't his first time transfiguring something into a bed), she was laying on her back and he was sinking into her.
He cradled her face with his arms and gazed down at her solemnly as he stretched her open. He looked kind and so exquisitely handsome, and she understood now exactly why so many women fell prey to him.
"Alright?" he asked softly.
She didn't know this man, not this version of him anyway. She nodded, which apparently was all the permission he needed to start moving. Each motion rocked stars into her vision and surges of heady gratification through every nerve fiber. She was surrounded by him, the heat of him around her and inside her. And as he fucked her, she began to feel a bit ruined, because she wasn't sure she'd ever have satisfaction this intense again. It wasn't right, she thought, that he should be this good, that he'd already know her body this well.
He reached down between them and thumbed her clit in rhythm with his thrusts, ramping up her pleasure until she crested. He held himself deep inside her through her orgasm, and afterwards, he kissed her sweetly before he resumed fucking her again. His thrusts were harder and faster now. She arched her pelvis up to meet his motions, greedy for everything he was giving her. She felt him lengthen and thicken, hitting new depths, and there, she was there again, pulsing around his cock and moaning against his mouth.
Through the high, she registered that he was coming too. Everything felt so good, the tightness of his grip on her hips, the thrill of dirty words against her ear, the throbbing of his dick against her walls as he released.
They were both breathing hard as he collapsed on top of her.
Slowly, the haze of orgasm cleared and with it the rush of artificial lust from the massage potion.
She was so very much herself again, Hermione Granger, swotty know-it-all, though apparently not clever enough to avoid accidentally dosing her childhood bully with an aphrodisiac.
She pushed against his shoulder. He took the hint and pulled out, leaving a rush of warm fluids between her thighs. Blushing, she glanced at him as he shifted so he lay next to her. She was all too aware of how naked she was, and how naked he was, and worst of all, how this was all her fault.
"Granger-," he began.
She couldn't bear it – the humiliation of his chastising. She shook her head.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I was in a hurry, and I can't believe I was so stupid. And you're right – I had no idea what I was doing."
"You're sorry, are you?" He was looking at her intently, and she wondered if he was still feeling the effect of the elixir. After all, he had gotten so much more of it.
"I am. Very regretful." She reached for her torn shirt, just to have something to cover up her body. She wished that he would cover up too. Even soft, his cock was thick and heavy, like a sleeping beast resting against his thigh.
"You think you can just apologize and walk away?" His voice was low and angry, in a way that sent unease down her spine.
"I-"
He ripped away her shirt and tossed it aside. "Fuck you, Granger."
Then, his hands were back between her thighs, back inside the squelchy mess of their coupling that was still dripping from her pussy. With one hand, he grabbed her leg and pulled it up and over hips, and with the other he gripped her hair and pulled her in closer. And just like that, she was spread open for him again, panting from his rough fingering.
"Look at what you did to me," he snarled. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his dick. Somehow, he was hard again already.
"You better take care of this," he commanded.
She glared at him, resentful of his entitlement. Elixir or not, he had no right to talk to her like this.
"You can't tell me what to do, Malfoy."
"The hell I can't."
He thrust his fingers harder inside of her. If she wasn't careful, she could come again so very easily. Stubbornly, she gritted her teeth and refused to let him know how good it felt. After all, this pleasure wasn't for her, and their shared pleasure wasn't anything special for him. She let her hand fall limp against his cock, which only seemed to antagonize him more.
"Fuck, I hate you," he sneered as he flipped her around onto her abdomen. He pulled her hips up so she was on all fours, and used his knees to part hers. She felt him, hot and hard at her entrance. She told herself she should pull away, but the anticipation of having him again, even in this spiteful way, was difficult to give up. The problem, she acknowledged was that she now knew just how good it was to be fucked by his cock. They were already naked and in bed together. What was the harm in one more time?
"You think you're so special, don't you?" He slapped his length against her ass. Looking forward so he couldn't see her face, she bit her lip to hold back the moan of frustration rising up through her chest.
"I am, aren't I?" she replied mockingly after she gained some composure. "Haven't you wanted me for ages?"
This time it hurt, the way he slammed his cock into her without warning.
She cried out in pain, and for a moment, she thought she felt him hesitate. It must have been in her imagination, because next thing she knew, he was yanking her back by her hair and his other hand was on her clit, forcing pleasure to course through her body. She had been fucked like this before, but only in a fun way, certainly not by someone who made it clear how much he's disliked her over the last twenty years.
This, she decided, was better. Better than pretend hate with someone else. Better than the elixir-induced sweetness he'd shown her in the first round. This was the real Draco Malfoy, and on some level, she felt privileged to have this version of him too. It was raw and honest, and fuck, he felt amazing as he pounded her deeper and more aggressively than any man had before.
She stayed with him in that little room for hours, long after the incense burnt out and the Lavender's massage soundtrack played itself through.
—
END OF PART ONE
Author's note: Hello lovelies! Thank you for reading! This story started off as a response to a trope mashup challenge on tumblr, posed by the wonderful LightofEvolution, which consisted of "Massage + Magical Accident." As you can see, it got out of hand. I have some of part two written, but am not sure when I'll get around to finishing. I seem to have a lot of WIPs pending now, both in terms of fic life and real life responsibilities. As always, I would love to know what you think!
xoxo,
bourbonrain