M rated stuff here. Happy Reading! -MM
April 1996
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Wizarding Scotland
Lyra spent Thursday morning with Madam Pomfrey as planned, sorting bandages and holding the hand of a Hufflepuff first year who needed some TLC while he had a rather large splinter removed.
In the afternoon, she sought out Professor Burbage as Hermione suggested and sat silently in the back of the room during the fourth year's period. It was a fascinating lesson on automobiles and how it would do you well not to stand in front of one. Calling it simple was about the greatest compliment Lyra could pay it.
The professor had a free period after the class and brought Lyra into her study for some lunch. As expected, she was very excited to meet an American and had all kinds of questions about Muggle integration. When Lyra informed her that she came from New York, the older woman literally squealed with delight and launched into a highly detailed inquiry about the subway and bridge systems.
...
Draco ducked out of charms early to drop in on Snape and see if he knew where Lyra was. He was informed by the Professor that if he ever disturbed one of his classes for such minutiae again, he would find himself hexed mute, but Draco was undeterred. Snape didn't understand the urgency of the situation, and it's not like he could tell him the truth either, that Lyra had iced him out the evening prior and was in desperate need of a good spanking. Draco grumbled his way back up the stairs, forlornly making his way back to class when he spotted her.
She was with Professor Burbage, chatting happily and waiving her hands about like she always did when she was on a tear about something. He caught a flash of silver around her wrist and realized that she was wearing the snake bangle he'd bought her for her birthday one year, and that's all it took. He needed to get her alone. Now.
He stalked up behind them, eavesdropping on their chirpy conversation about Muggle music.
"Professor Burbage," he called out politely, though he couldn't stand her. Muggle Studies, what a load of rubbish.
They turned and Draco got an annoyed stare from Lyra and the same unassumingly daft smile that Burbage gave everybody.
"Hello, Draco. How can I help you?" She said.
"I'm here for Miss Black, actually. Professor Snape would like to see her if that's alright," he lied with finesse. He could tell immediately from her face that Lyra didn't buy it. You in my mind, Puk? She was so good at it that he couldn't tell half the time.
"Not at all," the older woman answered kindly. "Lyra, do come back tomorrow won't you? I'd love to talk more about New York architecture if you're up for it."
Draco watched his witch brighten instantly at the mention of her hometown. "Of course. I'd like that," she replied.
Lyra went over to Draco, brushing his mind with her own as she did so. He was thinking roughly 'sex, sex, spanking Lyra's naughty bum, sex and supper.'
Well, he certainly gets points for consistency, she thought to herself, reigning in her urge to laugh.
"Thanks so much for your time, Professor" she said warmly to her as Draco led her in the opposite direction down the stone walkway.
They walked together in silence for a minute or so before Draco looked around and shoved her hurriedly into an unused classroom. He muttered a spell to lock the door and pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her hips with his own and dipping his head low to take in her cool scent.
She looked up at him with molten butterscotch eyes. "You know," she purred, her breath fanning against his chin warmly. "I think it only fair, since you were so rude to my friend last night, that I should be the one doing the spanking, don't you?"
"Stay out of my head, witch," he muttered darkly, leaning in and running his lips feather light over the sensitive skin of her neck.
Lyra hummed and arched into him. "Now why would I do that?" She teased, reaching inside his robes and untucking his shirt from his trousers. "I like knowing you inside and out," she added while running her nails down the bare skin of his back.
He hissed and ground himself into her lightly.
"Well, I'd been planning on getting to know you inside a bit last night, but you put me out, love," he jabbed, undoing the pin on her blue school robes.
Lyra laughed and let them drop to the floor. "Don't you have a class to get to?" She countered, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek.
"Don't you have a hovel to sweep?" He pushed back.
She smiled and nipped at his bottom lip. "Be nice to me, you big bully, or you won't be invited."
"A shame indeed," he noted, edging her skirt up her legs and quickly divesting her of her underwear.
"Indeed," she echoed, reaching across to unbuckle his belt and open his trousers.
He took her waist and led her over to the large oaken teacher's desk at the front of the room, sitting her on neatly on the edge. She opened her legs for him automatically so he could step in and minimize the space between them.
While she pulled him in by the collar for a kiss, he snaked a few fingers up the caramel flesh of her thigh and dipped into her to see if she was ready. He groaned. She wasn't just ready, she was positively dripping.
He took himself out and replaced his fingers with his cock in a single smooth thrust. She was even better than he remembered. Better than his dreams.
Lyra whimpered. It stung a little, being that she hadn't had sex in some months, but she didn't care. She was with him. She could breathe again.
Draco found that as soon as he was inside her, he was stripped bare of all of his quips and clever words. There was just her in his arms, soft and real.
"Oh," she gasped as he started to move. "I missed you so much," she confessed in an airy whisper.
He pulled her forward with some pressure on her back and rested his forehead against hers as he worked. "I love you, sweetheart," he breathed.
She moaned and grabbed behind his neck to hold him to her. "Love you," she answered in a rush before fusing her mouth to his desperately.
They stayed as close as possible to each other the entire time. Lyra noted at one point that on top of an old desk may not have been the best choice of venue for their reunion, but whatever.
"I'm not going to last, love," Draco informed her in a tight rasp.
Lyra scarcely had a chance to murmur her assent before he was coming hard inside her, groaning feral into her shoulder.
He panted as he recovered, pulling back slightly to look at her. "Christ, Lyra," he sighed, taking in her flushed cheeks and wanton expression.
"More," she begged, rolling her hips urgently to stir him within her. Right, he quipped to himself.
He probed her with some long slow thrusts and put a hand on her sternum to lay her back on the desk. She was wonderfully compliant in this state, willing to follow any direction that would lead her to her end.
He took his other hand and began drawing soft little circles over the engorged bud at the apex of her sex. He wanted to bring her around slowly so he could feel her climax from the inside. He loved the sensation, even if he was already spent. The gentle but insistent pull of her muscles, it felt like her body demanding him to stay, and he would do so gladly.
"Oh god, baby. Please," Lyra babbled thoughtlessly as she undulated beneath his hands.
"Please what?" He teased, pushing hard into her with his hips. It put a bit too much stimulation on his oversensitive member if he was going to be honest, but it's not like he could just stop. His girl needed him.
She whined and grabbed the hand that was pressing into her chest, relocating it to her cheek and gracelessly sticking his thumb in her mouth for something to suck on.
Fucking hell. Draco made a choked noise of surprise and increased the pace of his fingers plucking at her clit.
Her eyes fluttered and her body went rigid. He felt her core come to life around his cock, contracting down on him in silky, molten waves. She broke the suction seal of her lips around his thumb and cried out. Gods, she was magnificent like this, splayed out like a feast before him. He wanted to nibble on her all day.
She relaxed back down on to the wood beneath her and looked up at him breathlessly. "So good," she muttered, stretching her arms out above her head lazily.
He smirked and leaned in to kiss her when he heard the sound of students starting to rush by in the passageway outside of the classroom. He frowned.
"You have to go," Lyra guessed with a pout.
He sighed and kissed her temple. "Afraid I do, love," he said sadly, pulling away from her.
She sat up and readjusted her clothes, missing his heat, but relishing his scent that clung to her like smoke. "Will you come see me later, at my hovel?" She asked, trying to sound indifferent.
He smiled. "I've got some things to do after classes but I'm sure the Headmistress will give me permission to skip out early if I tell her I'm going down there to get rid of some of the half-breeds old things," he said casually as he refastened his belt.
Lyra froze for a second before the anger welled in her belly. "Don't talk like that!"
Draco put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "That tosser let a bloody hippogriff nearly rip my arm off third year because he's an incompetent buffoon. I'm glad he's gone, and I'm not sorry. Umbridge got that bit right for sure."
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and hopped off the desk. "Be that as it may, a person's breeding has nothing to do with their level of intelligence or buffoonery. May I remind you that Crabbe and Goyle are both purebloods and they are both hopelessly stupid," she quipped dryly.
"True, but they do as I tell them, so they have at least that much sense," he retorted.
Lyra scoffed. "What is going on here, Draco? The school, that pink-robed lunatic. I had to sit there while she called me a savage and accused me of shady dealings with Headmaster Dumbledore. She would have thrown me out the gate if Severus hadn't bravely stepped in to tell her that I'm too dumb to be a spy, " Lyra complained stepping close to him.
Draco frowned. He didn't like the sound of that, but it's not like he could do anything about it either. "I'm sorry that happened, sweetheart. Look, Umbridge is a fanatic. She's what my father would call a 'useful idiot.' All fanatics are. You can get them to bend however you'd like provided you make them believe it suits their goal," he explained. "And once you make them think you're in their service, you're pretty well untouchable and can do as you please."
"Right, so things get worse for everybody but you," she fired. "That's bullshit and you know it."
He huffed tiredly and smoothed a hand down her side. "I know that Umbridge, and my father, and all of the schemers at the Ministry are going to keep doing what they do regardless of the opinions of one fifteen year old lad egged on by the noble petitions of his American girlfriend," he replied calmly.
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him.
"By the noble petitions of his lovely and charming American girlfriend," he clarified, enfolding her loosely in his arms.
She rolled her eyes but settled naturally into the embrace. "You're patronizing me," she griped.
"Is it working?" He asked hopefully.
"No," she replied.
"Bullocks," he teased, flashing her his most handsome smile.
She fought hard, but eventually broke into a little smile.
He released her and walked over to where her robes and underwear had been discarded, retrieving them for her.
"Look, just please...no more mudblood or half-breed garbage, ok? You don't have to like everybody. But if you're gonna dislike someone, at least let it be for a reason that matters," Lyra said gently to him as he wrapped her robes around her shoulders.
"What do you mean, love?" He asked, furrowing his brow.
"I mean that disliking Mr. Hagrid because he let you get hurt at least makes some sense. Disliking him because he's half giant or whatever doesn't make sense," she explained.
He frowned and looked away.
"You don't hate Hermione because she's muggle-born. You hate her because she beat your ass in potions last term," she said with a devilish grin as she straightened his tie for him.
"Wha..." he scoffed. "Did she tell you that?! That vile little harpy!" He fumed.
"Of course not. 'Posted better marks' was the diplomatic phrase she used, I believe," Lyra teased.
He flexed his jaw involuntarily and Lyra rose up on her toes to kiss away the agitation there. "You're so adorable when you're pouting," she purred against his skin.
"You're patronizing me," he pointed out.
Lyra quirked her lips and pulled back to look at him. "Is it working?"
"No," he answered.
"Bullocks," she teased, flashing him her prettiest smile.
He smirked. "Clever girl."
"Can you come around seven?" She asked.
"Yes, but I won't be able to stay long," he confessed.
Lyra sighed morosely. "I should never have come here early. It's been nothing but misery."
He smiled at her grumpy expression and pulled her to him. "Speak for yourself, witch. Never again will I be able to walk by this room without sporting wood," he teased. "I wonder if the Headmistress would let me buy that old desk. I bet a letter from my father would do it," he rambled, kissing down Lyra's neck.
"Ugh. Don't you have somewhere to be right now?" She quipped, shoving him away.
He laughed and grabbed his bag. "Regrettably, I do. Later, love," he said warmly, heading for the door.
"Bye baby," she said with a smile.
And then he was gone, and she was bored again.
