This is my second attempt at smut. It is a one-shot. Meaning, there is not potential for it to grow into something more. That was my intention. I've always found men in uniforms a little erotic. Um, with that said: Please don't judge =(

I very much liked the beginning. Writing it was fun. Maybe, in the future, I'll come back to this because it did not meet all my expectations. Though, I did enjoy writing it. I wanted it to be some sort of fetish/fantasy thing. I'm not sure if Hermione's thing with Draco's jersey counts, but oh well. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this. Even if it doesn't meet expectations smut wise (Because, honestly, I could have done a better job) I still like it =) And, I hope y'all do to!

I like doing one-shots, even ones like this, so I can improve on some of the things I'm weak in. It helps a lot, especially when I have a few multi-chapter smut stories planned for the immediate future (one featuring a very possessive/jealous Draco.) I would love your input, you critiques, and your approbation. It may seem small to you, but it really DOES help us writers =)

Please feel free to check out my Main Story: Veritas Lux Mea. Chapter Six will be very dark, and will more or less correspond with Chapter Two of Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince. Of course, it will be heavily rewritten (maybe not rewritten, but y'all know what I mean) to fit my story. Draco will not appear for some time after chapter six. Though, his family will be mentioned.

As always, enjoy.

Standard Disclaimer Applies: I do not own Harry Potter

x-X-x

Colored in the hue of Green

The flesh of lustful sheen

x-X-x

As he stood in the middle of the field, watching his players maneuvered through the air, he could not contain the anger that had been boiling like hot water from the beginning of the practice session. The players were horrendous. They could not fly to save their lives, block a Bludger, or throw a damn Quaffle successfully threw one of three hoops. Slytherins were notorious for their rough play, their dirty tactics, and their foolproof game plan. However, that wasn't what he was witnessing today. It was quite the opposite of what he was used to seeing. Even on the ground, he could practically smell the alcohol and sex permeating off their perspiring bodies. They reeked of unsatisfactory.

Draco Malfoy was completely enraged. He had been promoted to team captain two weeks ago, and had warned his players if they didn't shape up there would be hell to pay. He didn't give a damn if this was their final year at Hogwarts except that it would be their last shot as a graduating class and team at winning the Quidditch Cup. His players obviously didn't care, but that didn't mean he was in the same celebratory mood as they were. He enjoyed the finer things in life. His revelry lifestyle had been switched out with a more refined existence. All thanks to one special girl.

"Oh! There he is!" He heard one of the countless cheerleaders exclaim. He hardly noticed them at all. The only girl he had eyes for was currently nose deep in her Advance Charms textbook to care. In the past, it would have pissed him off. Now, he completely understood. He'd rather have her watch the actual game than some petty practice. She was a distraction he sometimes wished would go away. She was outstanding when it came to cheering him on, despite the nasty glares from her two best friends. He frowned. Her friends could be annoying. Nonetheless, he appreciated her encouragement, even if she was a distracting little Lioness.

"Granger is so lucky!" another swooned blatantly as Draco walked past them, crossing his arms over his chest.

He learned to ignore their cheers and unnecessary outburst of approval. Even if it were aimed towards him, he didn't need to hear it.

"Well, mate?" A deep voice sounded from above. "Want me to beat the shite of the boys or not?"

Draco raised his head. With a low growl, he quickly nodded at Zabini who had been bobbing up and down in mid-air, waiting for confirmation for a question he had asked several minutes prior to Draco engaging his team. He was the only one who came to practice with the intention of playing. He had the decency of sobering up prior to practice and not during. With a nod, he gave him permission to do whatever the hell he had asked. He couldn't remember it; he was too angry to care or even ask Blaise. Instead, he watched carefully as he rose into the air, clenching the Quaffle he allowed him to handle. With a smirk, he bent down, flipped the iron locks that imprisoned the two Bludgers. With a flick of his wand, he bewitched them so that the players would have no choice to deflect them. They would not stop their pursuit or attack until each and every one of them was able to dodge their ruthless attack. For a good measure, he added another charm so that it licked their flesh with the scorching heat of a flame that shot out from random areas of its iron armor when they did not successfully reflect their hunt. Satisfied, he unleashed the demons from hell, smiling contently as they both shot up in the air. He did not bother waiting to see who their first targets were; familiar screams of perfect terror soon filled his ears.

"You're deliciously evil," a cool, Italian voice said.

Draco turned, watching as Blaise landed perfectly on solid ground. "I have to be," he told him. "I did warn them if they failed to impress me during the first practice of the season. Now, they're paying for it."

"I can only imagine what your girlfriend would say about all this."

His attention snapped towards the heavens just in time to see Goyle get hit in the face. "What she doesn't know won't kill her. Why are you sudden concerned about my girlfriend, anyway?" He inquired. "Shouldn't you be more concerned about yours, Zabini?"

The Italian chuckled. "Don't hurt yourself, Malfoy. I'm not concerned about her. I'm simply commenting on her attendance; which, if you hadn't already noticed, she left. She looked fairly upset about something, too."

"I have more important things to attend to before I confront Granger. "His voice dropped an entire octave. Zabini looked at him unaffected by how open he was about the Gryffindor Princess. Shaking his head, he decided not to push his luck any farther. Draco would eventually find out. "Hopefully, I won't be too angry to see my Lioness. "

Blaise tilted his head slightly at Draco's choice of a pet name. "Yes, if you are not too angry to push your plough and if your players do not push you to a premature end."

Usually his sexual jokes would upset him. Though, nothing could possibly upset him any more than that fact that his team sucked and he could see absolutely no hope. With a sigh, he placed Zabini under temporary leadership so he could cool his head, change, and join his team. Hopefully, by the time he came back some of the players will spontaneously find their balls, clear their minds, and play well enough to have a decent practice. Well, a man could only hope. He didn't see that happening any time soon as he glanced up, groaning as a Bludger hit one of his Beaters square in the back. He watched as the poor fool fell down and hit the earth with a loud 'thump.' Dear Salazar, he could not remember a time when his team was this horrible, even after consuming a shite ton of alcohol. He sincerely hoped that the improved by this time next week or their dream of finally winning the Quidditch Cup after three years will be completely destroyed.

With one last glance, he set off for the locker room where his uniform and equipment were waiting for him. As he walked, he couldn't help raise his head towards the general direction of the Gryffindor tower before the image of his girlfriend conjured like a Patronus inside his mind. He smiled. He could feel every nerve in his body calm down with the image of her smiling face; even the thought of their first game against the Gryffindorks couldn't tamper with his spirits. When he arrived at the locker room, he pushed aside the green curtain, and stepped inside the charmed room. Dirty clothes decorated the wooden benches, pieces of damaged equipment littered the floor, and there was a foul smell of rotten eggs that hung in the air. Draco whipped out his wand, casting a quick cleaning spell. He would not progress any further than he already had without at least sanitizing a small portion of the bench and spraying the room with freshening spray. This was one of the few reasons he couldn't stand the Quidditch Locker Rooms: it smelled to high fucking Heaven and the boys couldn't keep it clean for more than an hour. Maybe it was Pureblood instinct, or his own mother drilling in the notion of cleanliness into his mind, but he preferred a hygienic environment in which to change.

Draco looked around, satisfied with the new arrangements. He stepped over a pile of smelly trousers as he made his way over to his locker. Carefully, he opened his compartment, knowing exactly what would happen if he didn't. Staring him proudly in his face was his Nimbus 2001. Smirking smugly at the glossy finish of the Quidditch broom, he took in the magnificent piece of equipment, admiring the pitch black wood that made up the frame and the neatly combed bristled end. He had every right to be cocky about his broomstick, but that wasn't the reason he was looking at it with such admiration.

Sometime early in their relationship, Hermione had opened his eyes about indulging in useless things. Sure, it was nice to have high-quality things, but the lesson she wanted him to learn wasn't that. She wanted him to realize the importance of appreciating the things he already had. Along with that, he learned that he didn't need to be flashy and the he could do anything if he put enough effort into it. Making Captain was a great example of him demonstrating what he had learned from her.

He rummaged through his belongings, pulled out a clean pair of white trousers, socks, his boots, and jersey- wait. He frantically searched through the slender column of his compartment but he could not find the final article of clothing of his Quidditch uniform. He slammed the locker door shut, running his hand through his platinum locks. Frustrated, he punched the nearest locker, blocking out the immense pain that shot up his arm. Not only was his team taunting him with their horrible play, the fucking Fates were having a go at him. Outraged, he kicked his locker before taking a seat on the bench where he laid his equipment on. He racked his hands through his messy hair, wondering what on earth he should do now. There was no way in Hell he'd ask one of his players if he could borrow one of their shirts. He could always play shirtless, but he would rather not. There were too many screaming girls and he didn't want to give them a bloody heart attack. He knew he was stunning, but the image of him in his entire glory was only reserved for one witch.

He could have sworn he packed in before he left the Head Boy and Girl Common Room, though. It was unlike him to forget anything. What he couldn't figure out is how he managed to forget his jersey. He hadn't been in a rush earlier that evening. In fact, Hermione had pressured him to leave early just so he could get to the stadium as to set a good example for his team. Draco took her advice, thinking nothing of her suggestion.

Why the fuck did he ever take her advice? As helpful and caring as she was, she hadn't somehow made him forget his shirt. He knew for a fact that he had packed it the night before. He remembered as clear as fresh morning rain that he placed it right inside his bag before seeking out his girlfriend's company. The only explanation that he could was that-

What a minute- the little witch.

A smile conjured upon his face. He never thought she'd have it in her. Honestly, he should have known by the urgency laced in her sweet voice that she had done something, well, un-Granger like. Who knew his little Lioness had concocted such a mischievous plan? It had been her intention to steal his shirt all along. He didn't forget it; his little witch had stolen it.

He chuckled darkly. His witch was so damn fraudulent sometimes. It would be unwise of him to say that he loved when she dodged his very quick mind and observant eyes, but he did enjoy it immensely when she was able to sweep by his defenses. His little Lioness; what was a man to do? Should he feel pride in her, or should he seek her out and inflict punishment?

He could easily sneak back to the Head's room to retrieve his shirt. It was too much of a hassle, though. Even if he trusted Blaise to keep the boys in line, it was his responsibility to make sure they didn't get injured or worse. He laughed aloud- injured? What a hilarious thing to think of especially after sending some demented Bludger to chase after his mates. Well, hopefully, it would be treated as some educational example. Maybe they will think twice about drinking the night before and heeding their captain's warning. Sometimes he was proud of his sadistic trait.

It would be extremely fulfilling to catch her red handed.

Smirking, he took out his arm and knee guards and began preparing as if he were about to go on the field. As he was fastening the last buckle of his knee guards the curtain swished open and Zabini stepped in with an exasperated expression on his face.

"What?" asked Draco with a frown. "No, let me guess- someone is hanging by a single finger and they've asked you to come to me so that I can save them."

He shook his head. "No, I was just wondering what was taking you so long." He paused long enough to add," The boys are fine. I administered some hangover potions, so they should start flying properly and perform to your expectations. You'll be happy to know that half of them have successfully dodged your possessed Bludger. Though, you have some odd fantasies, mate."

He waved Blaise's comment away. "Good. You're in charge until I return."

"Where are you going?"

The very thought of where he was going elicited a deep laugh from the depths of his chest. Blaise stared at him quizzically, as if wondering what on earth was wrong with his Captain.

"Let's just say I'm hunting down a thieving Kitten." He paused. "In fact, if I don't come back down in thirty minutes then the rest of practice is cancelled.

"Does… this have anything to do with Granger?"

Draco stood up, exposing his well-defined body to the Italian. Blaise watched half-heartedly as his Captain found his uniform robes, slide his arms into both sleeves, and fastened the thin string in the front. He appeared perfectly normal and well-groomed. Seemingly innocent in contrast to what Draco was planning on doing with his witch.

Blaise watched with ennui as Draco left in a flurry of green and white. With one sweep of the large locker room, he left as well.

Hermione smiled brilliantly to herself as she snuggled more comfortably into her boyfriend's bed. She had just spent the last two hours rewriting her Charms notes. Now, it was time for a well-deserved break and perhaps a long await nap. Pushing aside her books, quill, and pieces of parchment, she sprawled against the velvet sheets. Sighing, she basked in the warmth of the charmed bed, smiling at what she had just pulled before curling herself into a tight ball. She wrapped her arms around her legs, admiring the softness of the long-sleeved shirt she managed to steal from an unsuspecting Draco. It had been entirely too easy! Not that she expected him to catch on right away. Silently, she wondered just how long it would take him. Surely, by now, he would be changing into his uniform and discover that his jersey was missing. It was amusing to think about what his reaction would be. Would he go into a fit of rage or cry helplessly that his one and only jersey had been stolen? Well, it would serve him right. He did only purchase one for the entire season. She would not be surprised if the whole school was turned upside down just to locate the missing piece of clothing.

She giggled in triumph, digging her head into the soft cushion of his silky pillows. She had won indeed! It had taken countless trials, but she finally succeeded. And, damn him for making it almost impossible to do! Ever since the very first Quidditch match, she's had this unnatural fetish with his uniform. It had been a little weird. She was only fifteen when she first saw just how sexy he was in it. The very image of him wearing his gear, covered in dirt and grim was more than stimulating. It had her positively delirious for his touch. Especially in his jersey; it conformed to his body so perfectly. It was such a tempting little thing to look at. Ever since then, she has been determined to get her hands on his jersey. At last, she had it.

Sighing in content, she flopped so she was lying on her back. The shirt she was now wearing like some physical victory fit so well for being fairly large on her. It was like a loose fitting dress on her curvy frame. The collar of the shirt had shifted drastically, exposing a lovely beige shoulder and a prominent collarbone. Her legs looked so delicious poking out beneath the green fabric. The way it rode up her creamy, light beige thighs made her feel incredibly sexy. Tentatively, she trailed a teasing finger up her smooth legs. She traced the natural curve of her left calf before furthering her quest to her thighs. Her breath hitched. Slowly, she dropped her finger from her sensitive flesh. She may have been courageous when it came to stealing her boyfriend's shirt, but she could never pleasure herself the same way Draco did. She rarely pleasured herself; her touch just did not do it after feeling the sinful things Draco's hands could do to her.

Blushing, Hermione rolled over so she was lying on her stomach. Sulking, she pressed her cheek hard against the pillow Draco's head rested so peacefully against while he slept. She couldn't say she felt guilty about what she did. In fact, it was exhilarating. Suddenly, like a gust a wind, she was overcome with a surge of wrongfulness. She felt ashamed by what she did. Vowing to rectify the situation, she bolted up in the bed. As she climbed off the waist-level bed, she was met with an arresting view.

Standing with his arms crossed over his chiseled chest was her boyfriend. Hermione's eyes roamed shamefully over his entire Slytherin grandeur. She hungrily drank in his impressive, well-defined frame. Her eyes roamed over his chest, his torso, his strong thighs, and finally the area below his waist. As she locked eyes with him at last she noticed the dark glint that only appeared whenever he was truly angry, or aroused.

"Caught you, you little thief."

He greeted her in a strained drawl while tilting his head lazily in her direction. Clearly, he was in no mood for pleasantries. He wanted an explanation; he wanted to know why she was wearing his shirt if the dark look in his eyes didn't command it. Draco eventually removed himself from the door of his room, stalking over her deliberately slow. Hermione watched with trepidation as his eyes took inventory of her body. She looked away from him, having reached her own limit of stealing glances at his clothed body. As soon as she turned the other way, something rough tugged on her chin, pulling her attention back to the one entity she could not resist.

"Do not look away." He hissed. He removed his hands from her chin, his eyes watching as he trailed a single digit down the middle of her neck to her cleavage. "I must say, you look absolutely mouth-watering in my shirt. However, that alone will not atone for your little act." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her neck. "Now, you are going to tell me why you're on my bed and wearing my shirt."

Hermione remained motionless. She could not move, nor speak. Her throat clenched painfully as she tried unsuccessfully to surpass a moan. He looked so damn hot in his uniform! It was precisely why she hated going to his practices and games! Taking a brave step towards him, her eyes roamed over his body. He wore his colors beautifully. Like a majestic serpent, his arms slithered around her faster than she could blink. His lips captured hers in a bruising, all-consuming kiss. Their hands fumbled with each other's clothing as they clawed, scratched, and pierced each other's skin. Draco's robes were the first to go. Hermione growled like a wild cat as she grabbed him roughly, switching positions, and threw him onto his bed. Quickly, she climbed on top, throwing her leg over his waist and pushing down with all her strength so he wouldn't think about stealing her role from her. She ran her hands up and down his sides, breathing heavily as they both tried to calm down long enough to speak.

"Merlin, Hermione." He panted, her lips crashing down upon his. While on his way up he did not take into consideration that his girlfriend would look this good in his shirt. Not that she ever looked good wearing his shirts. The fact she was wearing his Quidditch jersey stirred the beast below his waist. As delectable as she looked, with her curly hair slightly ruffled, her blushing cheeks, and the inviting allure of her lips- he could almost forget why he had come all the way back to the common room for. "Fuck, Granger." He couldn't help say his hand finally making contact with her creamy thigh.

They both let out a long moan. Hermione placed her hands on his chest, her fingers exploring every curve and valley of his tense muscles.

"If I had known you would look this good in it I would have given it to you a long time ago."

She bashfully looked at him. "Y-you would have?"

He nodded, nuzzling the special spot behind her neck. She tensed, digging her nails into his shoulders. He let out a pain, but pleasurable growl. Before she knew it, their positions had been flipped. The hem of his shirt pushed up past her waist, exposing a pair of red knickers with a cute ribbon bow further flared the voracious beast.

"My, my, you wear both red and green so fucking well." He taunted, pushing her knees apart. His eyes darkened at the sight of her arousal seeping through the thin fabric of her knickers. He rubbed her clothed slit rapidly until she was unable to contain her excitement and moans. Smirking, he pushed aside the fabric, eyeing the glistening folds of her pussy with absolute longing. His mouth watered. His cock throbbed painfully within his pants, begging to be set free. Without warning, she flipped her over so she was lying on her stomach. He grabbed her ankles, moving them so that she was spread out on all fours. With a quick thought, her knickers and shirt vanished, leaving her only in her knee-length stockings.

"Fucking Salazar." He rubbed two fingers up and down her slit with his other hand spread her arse cheeks apart. His lips made contact with her fleshy globes of her bum.

He removed himself from her, unbuttoning trousers before kicking them aside. He grabbed his cock into his calloused hands. He stroked himself once, twice, until he had built a slow rhythm. She watched feverishly over her shoulder. With each hard stroke his balls bounced wildly beneath his thick length. Hermione bit her lip, eyeing his manhood before she threw all her inhibitions to the wind. Growling, she wiggled her bum in the air, physically indicating as to what she wanted.

Draco narrowed his eyes onto the small thatch of hair and her pink, honeyed folds. He walked forward. Slowly, he bent down and licked the length of her pussy in preparation for what he had in store for her. With one swift plunge, he embedded himself to the hilt inside her moist heat. She let out a strangled cry as he began to move treacherously slow inside her pussy.

"Maybe, this will teach you not to steal from me." He grunted between each hard plunge. He squeezed her arse cheeks and watched as his cock disappeared inside her. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? To be fucked roughly from behind? You wanted me to pound into your pretty pink pussy and make scream for mercy? Well?" He grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards. He continued to fuck her ruthlessly until he cries turned into desperate moans. Sharp nails dug into the flesh of her hip while the hold on it tightened. "Tell me."

"Please, Draco." She panted, meeting each of his hard thrusts.

"Please what, Kitten?"

"Harder, faster," she gasped, clenching her fingers around the silk comforter of his bed.

"Want to tell me now why you stole my shirt?" He grunted, trying to keep himself from climaxing too early. She was so damn tight, so damn close to coming undone. With another deep thrust she screamed out, her cum coating his pale pelvis and length. Draco continued to pound into her tightness. He let go of her hair and moved both of hands to her waist. He pounded into her mercilessly, conjuring more strangled cries of utter pleasure from his witch. Her pussy clenched enthusiastically around his thick cock, indicating another impending release. He fucked her deeper, harder, and faster until her melodious voice and screams filled his ears. She collapsed forward, her body shaking from two powerful orgasms in a row. After three thrusts, he reached his climax as well. His hot seed shot into her pussy in large spurts. Draco pulled his cock out, watching with some sort pride as his essence seeped out of her satisfied cunt.

He lied down, tugging her comfortably to his side. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Hermione sought his lips out, kissing him with the urgency she once had when he first walked into his room. "Thank you. I didn't think you would be able to pull that off."

"Oh, really?" He grinned. "I think I did a fantastic job with indulging in my girlfriend's fantasies."

"It's not a fantasy." She mumbled. "I really do like you in your Quidditch uniform."

Draco looked down at her, stunned. "I seriously thought this was some role playing thing you came up with. Hermione, you actually like it when I wear my uniform?"

Her acknowledgement was all the confirmation he needed. "Is that why you weren't at practice today?" Draco moved in between her legs, licking the valley of her breasts.

She laughed. "Heavens no." Hermione proceeded to play with his shaggy hair. "Your teammates were being complete idiots during the first meeting. I could hardly think through their attempts to flirt with me. Not only that, they reeked of alcohol. You know how incredibly light headed I am. One inhale of the stuff and-"

"They were flirting with you?"

"Yes, why?"

Draco looked up, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought about the best way to praise what he wanted to say. "Dare I ask why the boys were flirting with you?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't recall doing anything that would elicit their attention."

This seemed to spark something inside Draco because his eyes flared up with the fires of rages. "Those fucking bastards!"

"Draco?"

He dashed off the bed. Hermione sat up and watched as Draco pulled his boxers and trousers back on before darting to where she threw his shirt. Biting her lip, she watched as his athletic physique disappeared beneath a sheet of green. Sure, he was angry about something. Even if it was completely normal for him to be angry, she couldn't help but feel aroused at the sight of him in his uniform once again.

"I'm going to hex the fucking Bludger so many times that they wished they never tried flirting with you." He hissed venomously. "And you, you're completely at fault as well! If you hadn't worn such alluring attire then they wouldn't have flirted with you to begin with!"

She blinked, thinking back to what she had worn at the beginning of the practice session. Usually, sessions ran three, even four hours long depending on how much time the Captain booked. She had left before the first hour was completed. Giggling, she reached towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.

"Oh, Draco. You have no reason to be jealous. Besides, you don't need to be embarrassed that you have a fetish for knee-length socks."

He turned around, placing his hands on her hips. He stared intently into her chocolate orbs. "What makes you think it's my fetish?"

She gulped. "Isn't it? I mean, we did talk about them just the other day-"

"No, Kitten. It's not my fetish." He grinned mischievously. "And, yes. We talked about it just the other day. I'm going back to the pitch, but when I come back I expect you to be dressed in your uniform. Until then, Professor."

Hermione dropped her hands to her side as the door closed softly behind him. Anticipation surged through her. Even though it had been his fantasy for her to dress up like some slutty Professor, she must confess it was just as erotic as it was for him.

Who knows, it may become her second fetish?