Hermione slipped a tight negligee over her head. She was exhausted.
She and Draco had spent the day running around the garden of the Irish castle they were staying at. The bushes were arranged in a maze, leading to different statues and fountains decorating the area. But Draco had used the garden for different purposes. Hermione had run from him, hid from him, beat him in Chase, and tried to Tag him, but he was always a bit faster than her. Of course, he usually let her win.
The Mistress of Balaur Castle, Madame Seamair, had reprehended them many times to not step on her plants, wipe their feet, wash up for dinner. The couple felt like children, but in return they got to act like them for a day. It had definitely been worth it. The Madame, with her long salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a bun and always dressed properly, was very strict with them, but seemed to like them, nonetheless.
Liked them enough to give them a spectacular room.
A beautiful lobby area led to a gorgeous room with one stone wall giving it the perfect 'castle' feel. A large, soft sheepskin rug covered the cold floor, the only other decoration was a dark wood dresser, small tables with pretty arrangements of flowers, and mirrors hanging on the walls. A door on the opposite side led to a small but luxurious bathroom, in which Draco was washing up now.
Hermione climbed into the bed. This had to be her favorite thing. The king-sized bed was built into the wall, about 3 feet off the ground, ending with a small window that let the air in to the insolated room. It gave Hermione a great view of the front grounds, a gravel road cutting threw green, perfectly cut grass and lined by beautiful flowers.
Ireland was definitely one of her favorite spots so far.
"I really love this place," Hermione sighed happily under her breath. She felt a warm body press against her back, kissing her under her jaw.
"I could get it for you," he told her. Hermione giggled, laying her arm over his as he wrapped around her waist.
"Don't go all Malfoy on me," she said sarcastically, snuggling deeper into the mattress when a cool wind breezed by them.
"I was actually quite serious, my dear. Think about it for a moment," he laughed, then used his lips for better purposes.
Hermione bit her bottom lip, and started thinking, not that he was making it easy.
Ok, she thought, Name of the place; Balaur Castle. In Ireland, no relation to the Ministry that I am aware of. Madame Seamair, Irish for clover, doesn't own the property, just the manager. Wait, Balaur. It's Romanian, Charlie taught this to me, it's Romanian for…
"Dragon", Hermione moaned, turning in Draco's arms and detaching his lips from her neck. "You own this place?"
"Guilty," he smiled, reaching up and running his fingers lightly along her collar bone.
She shook her head with her own smile, nipping his lips playfully. It escalated quickly.
Draco pushed towards her, his tongue laying siege on her mouth. He cradled her left cheek, slowly making love to her mouth. Hermione moaned happily. Their lips pulled at each other, their tongues twining together in a sort of dance that was all their own.
Draco rolled himself on top of Hermione, crushing the woman, not that she minded. Hermione's hands twirled threw his white hair, tugging softly. Draco had learned she did this when something felt good. Draco's hands moved to Hermione's hips, shaping his palms around her hipbones, holding them still so he could grind himself against her. A whimper echoed through the room.
His hands starting moving up, the silky material of her tiny nightgown going with them. He got up to her breasts, kneading the sides of them. Hermione was writhing under him, her moans quiet but powerful. One of his large hands moved back down her side, reaching the side of her small knickers. It only took a couple tugs for them to reach her ankles. He quickly did the same to his boxers, rubbing his skin against hers slowly but forcefully. Hermione whimpered again.
"We… we can't…" She tried to say. Draco kept going.
"Why not, love?"
"Madame Seamair could hear us. Re-remember she told us… noise travels in here."
"She was probably just pulling our leg," Draco reasoned, his erection gliding easily threw her folds due to her wetness.
"But… oh god… There could be other people here", she rushed, her breathing becoming irregular.
"It will have to be a bit of a challenge then," Draco said, his breathing also heavy, itching to enter her. "Try to be quiet. Real, real quiet."
Hermione's mouth fell open as he filled her. Her tightness always squeezed him the right way, giving both of them an insane amount of pleasure.
Draco moaned, quietly, of course, then started pumping into her. He was reclining forward on his elbows, which where caging in Hermione. Her arms were folded around his shoulders, her fingers running through the hair at the base of his neck. Their noses skimmed against each other on each thrust, tickling the sensitive hairs. Hermione slammed her mouth against his, trying to keep the noises she was dying to make inside.
Draco shuttled in and out of her, and after a groan that vibrated between their mouths, his hips began snapping back and forth even faster. Hermione's lips parted and she clenched her teeth, trying to contain the loud moan that was threatening to expose them.
"Quiet, love, don't let them hear us", he whispered harshly, finding it hard to breath with all the pleasure coursing through his body. Hermione nodded, her hands squeezed his shoulders. She bit her bottom lip, closed her eyes, and threw her head back like she always did. Her lips popped apart in a silent plea for sound, but she quickly muffled it and pushed her hips closer to his.
Draco pounded into her at a rapid pace, his elbows starting to hurt from the pressure he was putting on them. Though he couldn't really bother with that at the moment. Hermione's ruffled hair and wide brown eyes were enough to make him forget his pain. It was all worth it.
This woman was really the temptress. She always said the right things, moved the right way, smiled when she was supposed to. She understood him, got his level of intellect, matched his brains cell for cell. She was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt, but shit; she knew how to turn him on. She was the perfect kind of woman.
Hermione thought the same. Draco was the only person who seemed to be on the same plane that she was. She liked that he could guess her next words, knew where to touch her, see right into her soul. They truly fit together like puzzle pieces, but Hermione knew this could was only recreational. But really, how often does one get so drunk they fuck their childhood enemy, decide to skip out of work and wake up in Paris? Not many, she reasoned. Not many at all. And especially a rich enemy, that helped millions.
Hermione's hand covered her mouth as she came, the yell she was dying to release, stifled by her flesh. She felt like a bomb had exploded, spreading ecstasy all over her and she just laid there for the ride. She moved her hand to Draco's cheek, admiring lovingly as he vigorously kept pumping, aiming for his own relief. His low groan was lost as he buried his face in her shoulder, his lips leaving ghost kisses all over.
The couple lay for a moment, letting all there bodily fluids flow. Hermione was definitely ready for bed now. Draco turned his head slightly, sneaking a glance down her low cut neck line and just admiring the view. Hermione skimmed her long fingernails across his scalp, relaxing her body into the pillows and closing her eyes.
Seconds later her breathing went soft and Draco knew she was asleep. He propped his head up to look at her sleeping face. Her dark eyebrows framed her face well, and her plump lips where pink as a rose. She was very pretty when she slept, he decided.
Settling his head against her chest once again, he joined his lover in sleep, knowing the morning would bring several complaints and a fairly decent reason for an infamous Seamair scolding.
