October 31 - November 1, 2003
After their interlude in the janitor's closet, Draco and Hermione had rejoined their merry little group. Flint had taken one look at Granger's wild hair and reddened mouth and Draco's air of smug satisfaction as he solicitously passed her a fresh drink and had paid up, passing a thick wad of pound notes under the table in a manner that was far from stealthy. Theo, thin-lipped, had quietly promised to send a Gringott's draft in the morning.
The next couple hours were a blur of drinks and dancing, with Flint buying trays of tequila-infused Jell-O shots and insisting on their consumption, and Justin the Hufflepoof showing his laughable moves on the dance floor. Draco had his own private source of amusement in knowing that his swotty little girlfriend was shaking her arse to the music without any knickers on under her short Hogwarts skirt. That knowledge made him increasingly aroused as the night went on, until he couldn't wait to bury himself inside her.
When their party broke up shortly before three in the morning, he hauled Granger into a taxi, gave the driver the address of his Knightsbridge flat, shoved a ten-pound note in the man's hand, and told him there would be another twenty quid if he drove fast and didn't look into the backseat. Draco had then proceeded to snog and tease Granger until she was as riled up as he.
At his flat, he fumbled with the key in the lock, ultimately mumbling an "Alohomora," because he was too tipsy to pull off a silent spell and didn't think his girlfriend would notice, not after all the vodka tonics and tequila shots she had drunk.
Despite it being her first visit, Granger barely spared a glance for the elegant flat, with its beautiful moldings and original details highlighted by a mix of clean-lined, contemporary furniture and antiques. Instead, she just looked up at him with big, brown, slightly unfocused eyes. "Bedroom?" she inquired.
"Study," he answered with a smirk, pushing her none too gently through a door to the right. It was the one room he had furnished in a wholly traditional manner, with a mahogany desk dominating the room and shelves of leather-bound books lining the walls. In the morning, Hermione undoubtedly would want to inspect them all, but just right now she was moaning into his mouth as they kissed and unbuckling his belt as he walked her backwards to the desk.
He hoisted on her onto the desk's surface, ripped the vest over her head, and unbuttoned her Oxford shirt as fast as his fingers could fumble. She had shoved his cloak off somewhere between the flat's front door and the study, and was making quick work of his shirt's studs even with alcohol-clumsy fingers.
Draco hissed softly as her tongue circled one of his flat nipples. "Minx," he told her.
"I know," she looked up from under her lashes with a smirk, one thumb rubbing his other nipple.
"Since you know so much, do you know why I brought you to my office, Miss Granger?" Draco asked with mock-sternness.
Granger might be drunk, but she was never stupid, and she immediately picked up on his roleplaying. "No, sir, I have no idea," she replied, eyes wide and radiating innocence, both hands now clasped in front of her.
She was very good, although her act was compromised by the fact that she was naked from the waist up save for a very racy bra. Draco could see why she served so few detentions back at Hogwarts despite getting into nearly the same amount of trouble as Potter and Weasley.
"You were caught in a broom closet with a boy, Miss Granger. Were you snogging him?"
"No, sir," she repeated in the same innocent tone, before leaning forward to whisper, the tip of her tongue circling the shell of his ear. "I was on my knees, sucking him off."
"Tut-tut, Miss Granger," Draco shook his head in feigned reproof as he unclasped her bra and palmed her breasts, thumbs flicking her rosy nipples. "That is not the sort of behavior this school expects of a prefect and would-be Head Girl." He smirked at the unintentional pun before continuing. "I shall have to inform the headmaster and your head of house."
"Please, sir, don't tell them!" Granger begged, still in character. "Couldn't I serve a private detention with you, instead?"
Draco smirked. "I thought you'd never ask."
He removed his hands from her chest and stepped back a pace. "Turn around, Miss Granger."
With a show of reluctance, she complied, giving him a saucy wink over her shoulder before reverting to the schoolgirl role. "What should I do next, sir?"
Draco's cock was too impatient to draw this out much longer. "Bend over the desk, Miss Granger. Flip up your skirt."
She obeyed, and he ran a caressing palm along the bare cheeks of her arse. "Now spread your legs. Wider."
Draco stepped forward, between her thighs. With her knickers still in his pocket from earlier, she was fully on display to him. He pressed one long finger deep inside her, confirming that she was more than ready. Hermione whined deep in her throat as he rotated the single digit. "More, please. Sir," she gritted out.
"Not just yet, Miss Granger. Are you a virgin?" he inquired, continuing to tease with one finger.
"No, sir," she managed.
"No?" Draco echoed in feigned surprise, adding a second finger. "You're still so tight. How many boys have fucked you, Miss Granger?"
"Can't remember," she gasped.
"You filthy little slag," Draco commented, softening the dirty talk with a kiss between her shoulder blades. He was a bit surprised at the truthful answer. Having been Obliviated, she had no recollection of her sexual history before the age of nineteen, but she normally would have made up some plausible number. "I'll have to fuck you very hard to make certain you don't forget about me, won't I?"
His only answer from Granger was a frustrated sort of growl as he removed his fingers. Draco hastily shoved his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. As he entered her, hard and deep, one final thought filtered through the rational part of his mind as she arched her back and cried out his given name.
It wasn't just the sheer animal pleasure of fucking her, the tightness and warmth that he craved as he thrust into her again and again. It was the singular, illicit gratification of knowing that he was fucking Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's Mudblood princess and the brains of the Golden Trio, and that she was so sweetly willing precisely because she had no idea who he was.
(x) (x) (x)
Sometime in the middle of the night, Draco woke up with a dry mouth and pressing need to relieve himself. He blamed both conditions on Flint and his insistence that everyone except Katie take multiple tequila shots. After going to the loo, he silently made his way back to the master bedroom.
Hermione, as per usual, was deeply asleep, sprawled in the middle of his four-poster bed. Tonight, she was sleeping on her back, with her arms stretched over her head and the dark cloud of her wild hair. Staring at her body outlined under the sheet in the dim illumination of the streetlights and the way her wrists were criss-crossed on the pillow, Draco felt his cock begin to stiffen.
At Hogwarts, beginning in his third year, he had wanked off repeatedly to images of Granger in his head. Over time, he had developed three favorite fantasies: having her suck him off on her knees in a broom closet, bending her over a teacher's desk and fucking her from behind, and tying her up in his dorm room bed and playing with her until she begged for his cock. He saw no reason why he shouldn't experience the full trifecta tonight.
He had pulled his trousers back up after shagging Granger in the study and then discarded them somewhere on the bedroom floor. After a brief search, he found them, with his wand still in the left pocket. Ordinarily, he wasn't so careless, but alcohol and lust had impaired his sense of caution.
Draco glanced stealthily at the bed to make sure Hermione was still sleeping. Having reassured himself, he pointed his wand towards the door.
"Accio my Slytherin tie."
He captured it in his hand as it flew up the stairs from the study, where he had stripped it off Granger. On quiet feet, Draco approached the bed, wand in his left hand and tie in his right. With a whispered "Incarcerous," Granger's wrists were bound together and tethered to the headboard, the scar on the inside of her forearm facing up, with the crudely scrawled "Mudblood" legible even in the dimly lit bedroom.
Draco carefully placed his wand under the pillow and knelt over the sleeping witch, beginning to work his way down her body with open-mouthed kisses and licks and stroking, exploring fingers.
"Time to wake up, princess," he murmured darkly.
(x) (x) (x)
It started off as a very pleasurable dream. Skilled hands massaging her breasts, replaced by fingers pinching and rolling one nipple just so while the tip of a tongue teased her other nipple into an equally hard peak.
Those hands moved lower, stroking up and down her legs. Hermione parted her thighs and canted her hips upwards, encouraging the phantom owner of the fingers to place them where she wanted - no, needed - them. "Please. Please touch me," she whispered.
She continued to beg for more, grinding herself on two long fingers, than three, seeking that delicious release. Just as she was on the verge, the fingers were withdrawn and she whimpered in protest.
"What do you want, pet? My tongue or my cock?" Malcolm asked. His tone was darker and somehow rougher than normal, and Hermione peeked open her previously closed eyes to confirm it was he. Her boyfriend was looking up at her from between her thighs, a hungry smirk on his face.
"I want your cock," she told him, without hesitation. As skilled as he was with his tongue, she wanted the sensation of being stretched and filled.
He eagerly complied, clambering up her body to position himself and entering her with a swiftness that made her gasp. Hermione was still exquisitely sore from being bent over his desk earlier and fucked with a force that had come close to being brutal. Her mind was too hazy with sleep and tequila to recall if she had come twice or three times, but she knew she had loved it.
She shut her eyes again to focus better on the sensation of overwhelming pleasure mixed with a delicious sort of pain as her boyfriend rode her hard. The restraints at her wrists were arousing but frustrating, limiting her to wrapping her legs around Malcolm's hips to encourage him to go deeper and tightening her internal muscles in a way that had him gasping obscenities.
Hermione was gasping herself, her normally extensive vocabulary reduced to monosyllabic begging, profanity, and her boyfriend's names. "So close," she moaned. "Fuck me more, Draco. Please!"
"Open your eyes," he commanded. "I want you to see who's fucking you, who's making you come."
With a smile, she shook her head. "No, Malcolm. Make me." This was a game they'd played a few times in bed, one of them trying to persuade the other do some little thing. He would now resort to various intimate methods to try and obtain her compliance.
In a deliberate attempt at distraction, she arched her back and clenched him tightly, earning a nip to her earlobe. "You play dirty, Granger. I dare you to do that again."
So of course she did, causing him to groan in pleasure. "You filthy, dirty little witch."
He picked up his pace until her clenching was involuntary and she was crying out his name.
"Look at me, Granger," he ordered again, through increasingly erratic thrusts of his own. "Look at me, Mudblood."
She snapped open her eyes to the sight of Draco Malfoy, his eyes silvery with triumph and his face contorted with lust. He had braced himself against the headboard for greater leverage and the Dark Mark was prominent on his arm as he slammed into her a few final times before grunting softly in satisfied completion and slumping on top of her.
For a minute or longer, she lay silent and rigid beneath him, too horrorstruck to move or even react. Hermione kept closing her eyes and reopening them, willing herself to wake up from the nightmare that Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing Death Eater ferret, had just finished shagging her and she had liked it. She pressed the thumbnail of one bound hand into the pad of her index finger, hoping the sharp pinch would bring her to a different reality. No matter what she did, it didn't change the fact that she could still feel him deep inside her, with his stickiness seeping between her legs.
Malfoy hadn't noticed anything was wrong at first, caught up as he was in his own climax. But now he was staring down at her, an utterly foreign expression of tender concern discernible on his face.
"Hermione, are you alright? Please tell me I didn't hurt you, pet," he pleaded, carefully disengaging his body from hers and gently stroking sweat-damp curls off her forehead.
And that was when she struck.
(x) (x) (x)
Draco was reveling in the afterglow of one of the most intense orgasms he could remember, his forehead touching Hermione's as his heartbeat gradually slowed and his cock softened inside her.
Slowly, as he came down from that blissful high, he realized something was wrong. Granger was ordinarily cuddly and affectionate in the afters, wanting to pet him and willing to curve up against his body, only seeking her own space after she fell asleep. Right now, though, she was so still beneath him that he might have thought she had passed out from all the alcohol consumed over the course of the evening, except for the tension in her petite body.
He had been careful to support his weight on his elbows, so he wasn't crushing her, but Draco worried he might have gotten a bit too rough towards the end. She wasn't the only one in this bedroom who'd had a bit too much to drink.
"Hermione, are you alright? Please tell me I didn't hurt you, pet," he said worriedly, brushing her hair back from her face.
She looked up at him, her face contorted with rage and loathing.
"I am not your fucking pet, Malfoy," she snarled, as she slammed her knee into his groin.
He rolled on the floor, clutching his bits in agony, with Granger screaming abuse at him all the while. "Fucking Death Eater rapist scum! Motherfucking mommy's boy ferret! Do you miss bending over and taking it up the arse as Voldemort's little blond fuck toy?"
She switched to threats, thrashing against her bonds. " - cut off your prick with a dull knife and shove it down your throat. See how you like it, Malfoy!" Draco felt chilled, having no doubt that Granger meant every word she said.
Suddenly, it was mercifully quiet in the room. The only sound Draco could hear was his own harsh, labored breathing. He dared to hope that Hermione had passed out, and cautiously stood up, still cupping himself in pain, to verify if that was the case.
Her eyes were closed, but her forehead was knit in concentration and her lips were moving. Draco wondered if it was a prayer, but Granger, to the extent she was religious at all, seemed like a subscriber to the self-reliant Muggle philosophy that God helped those who helped themselves.
"-um. Finite Incantum. Finite Incantum."
"Oh, fuck!" The knots in his Slytherin tie binding her to the headboard were loosening. She was pulling off wandless magic, deliberate wandless magic, before his very eyes.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" His wand was under the pillow, and if Granger loosed herself and found it, he was a dead man.
Frantic, he threw himself onto the bed, pinning her down, and scrabbled for his wand. Despite being tied up and so much smaller than he, Granger was fighting him like a wildcat, intent on inflicting real damage. He jerked his head back as she snapped at his throat, literally going for the jugular. Draco flung up an arm to defend himself and she bit deeply.
He grunted in pain but thanked Merlin it was his right arm Granger had sunk her teeth into. He had largely immobilized her thrashing legs with his body weight, and that gave him the breathing space he needed to grab his wand.
"Stupefy!" he said, and then howled in fresh pain as the spell backlashed, sending a searing pain radiating from around his wrist up his arm.
Draco sought about frantically for a gentler spell to incapacitate Hermione, coming up with nothing in his panic. He had always excelled at potion-making, but his ability to brew three different sleeping potions didn't do him a damn bit of good without having a vial at hand to pour down her throat.
Flitwick had taught them a Sleeping Charm in sixth year, but he had been a bit too distracted with killing the headmaster at the time to learn it. In desperation, he attempted the charm anyways. "Somnus," he swished and pointed his wand between his girlfriend's eyes, currently staring at him with pure hatred. Nothing happened, but at least the spell didn't hurt either of them. Unlike Granger's teeth, still clamped on his forearm. "Somnolus," he tried again, still with no result.
What had Flint done when Katie had been in hysterics over their daughter's magic? Certainly he hadn't slapped her, even if that was a prescribed course of action for a hysterical witch. Draco had no desire to hit or fight back against Granger, and knew he would be incapable of hurting her even to defend himself. "Confundus," he said, wand tip at her temple, at last remembering what had worked for Marcus.
Mercifully, it seemed to work for him as well. Granger sagged back against the mattress and released her teeth from his now-bleeding arm. Her eyes were wide with confusion and terror. "Malcolm?" she whispered. "What happened? Why am I tied up?"
He shushed her gently, running his hands quickly over the shoulders and arms to check if she had hurt herself, finding nothing more serious than a deep reddish chafing at her wrists. "You had a nightmare," he answered her first question soothingly. "It was awful, but it's over now, and I'll get you something to drink to help you fall back asleep."
Hermione began crying, like a heartbroken child. "I thought you were someone else - someone evil," she choked out between sobs.
"It's just me. It was just me the whole time," Draco said, trying to comfort her. He wanted to untie her, but couldn't risk it just yet. "I'm getting you a drink. I'll be right back."
Draco hurried from the room, painfully scuttling sideways like a crab, and trying to close his ears to his girlfriend's still-frightened sobbing. He had to call for Mipsy where Granger couldn't see, and send the house-elf to Malfoy Manor for Dreamless Sleep and a healing salve. And, most critically, to fetch books on Memory Charms, so he could figure out what had gone wrong and find out how in Merlin's name to fix it.