Song Suggestion: Bryce Vine- "Drew Barrymore"
Just a Little Fun
Hermione
A disoriented Hermione bolted upright, dragging a sheet softer than silk to her chest. Green instead of crimson. Silver instead of gold. Darker and colder than the Gryffindor tower with a faint neon green glow.
Draco's room.
The events of the night replayed in her mind. Stripped of her bravado and the adrenaline flooding her system, she was only a naked girl sharing a bed with a boy who had a terrible reputation.
Somewhere Harry must be turning over in his grave. Her cheeks wanted to burn with shame. She never thought of herself as a girl tiptoeing out of a room after a one-night stand, but Hermione's eyes found the crumpled invisibility cloak with the map beside it. Her escape, if she desired.
Spending a night with Draco was a wonderful story to tell, but she couldn't see anything good coming out of staying any longer than necessary.
She shifted, about to crawl out of bed, when Draco's voice sliced the silence.
"Good morning," he said. "Or good night still. It hard to tell in the dungeons."
She twisted her head, letting her curls fall over her bare shoulder.
Draco looked like a Greek god. He sprawled naked across the sheets not even caring to cover up as her eyes roved over him. Like Adonis touched to life with his pale, toned skin. His chest must have been beautiful before Sectumsempra ravaged it. Instead, a giant gash ran like a winding river across his torso. Dark magic wounds always left reminders.
She reached out, on instinct, and traced the deepest part of the gash. The muscles on his stomach clenched with the touch.
"I never got to thank Potter properly for these," he said, but there was no malice behind his words.
"He regretted it."
He nodded, as if accepting her answer. His skin contrasted against the black sheets below. She had a sudden desire to lean down and taste him. She never got to last night. The act was quick and almost violent. No need for foreplay or taking her time. But now she wished to lean over and lick his skin, watch him shiver beneath her tongue.
Hermione shook her head, hating how fast she fell into the web again. It was stickier than an Acromantula's. There was no escaping the trap he laid for her.
"I think it's time I go—"
"What's the rush? Getting back to your boyfriend? You did tell him, right, that you were coming to fuck me?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Callum and I are just friends."
"Of course." He gave a wicked smirk. "You prefer blonds."
"I do?" Hermione tapped one finger on the side of her chin. "I guess you're right, Luna Lovegood did look delectable."
Draco blinked a few times before giving a loud laugh. He clutched his stomach with both hands.
"You're—"
Blaise Zabini barreled through the door, interrupting whatever Draco was about to say. Hermione gave a little squeak of surprise, and Draco grabbed both her shoulders and pulled under behind him.
"Get out, Zabini," Draco growled.
The Italian wizard was dressed in a leather robe that almost sparkled. His dark eyes roved over the scene before him, once, twice, as if not registering what he viewed.
"Oh my fucking God…"
Before Draco could say anything, Blaise's wand sliced into the air. Out of the tip blasted a stream of confetti, bursting across the room like a rain shower.
"Zabini…" Draco warned, but Blaise blasted another round of confetti. It danced in the air as it fell, coating everything.
When the air cleared, it revealed a beaming Blaise. A sly, Cheshire grin split his mouth in two.
"Stop trying to hide Granger." He twirled his wand in an idle way. "There's no one else with that hair."
Hermione peeked over Draco's shoulder.
"Hello, Zabini."
"Are you done?" Draco blew out a breath, attempting to get the yellow speck of confetti that stuck to the tip of his nose.
"Not even close," Blaise said. "It's not every day—"
Draco tensed
"Don't you fucking dare—"
"—that a man's best friend gets deflowered. By Hermione Granger, no less. It must have been spectacular with all that tension built up."
The room went silent.
"Deflowered?" The words entered her brain, but she didn't comprehend them.
"Well, you two seem busy," Blaise said cheerfully, but not at all innocently. "I'll leave you two to your fun." He walked out before Draco could reach his wand, throwing careless handfuls of confetti behind him.
"I'm going to kill him." Draco sent a spell to both shut and lock the door. "I swear I placed wards on the doors before—"
"You're a virgin."
Draco's whole body tensed up. He faced the door, refusing to look at her.
"Was a virgin," he said.
"Right," Hermione nodded, still not understanding. "But… you're the Slytherin sex god. I heard rumors..."
He finally turned so she could see him. His cheeks had turned a bright pink, pale skin revealing the blood whooshing just beneath the surface. Hermione wasn't sure if she had ever seen Draco so embarrassed, or so vulnerable.
"When have rumors ever been true?" He glanced at her chest. The sheet had fallen, so her breast was exposed to the sharp biting cold of the dungeons. She didn't move to cover it.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Hermione teased. "I guess I should have gone slower for your first time. Worked you up. Been more careful."
Draco gave a growl at the back of his throat. He flipped her waist and tugged her under him, so that she was pinned against the soft mattress, the delicious heat of his skin sliding against her own.
"I said I was a virgin, Granger, not a celibate. The rumors are partly true. I've spent enough time in broom closets to know exactly how to make a girl forget her morals. Let me give you a refresher course, since it seems you've forgotten."
He grabbed both her wrists and flung them over her head, and his wand flew to his outstretched hand. He muttered a curse, and her wrists stuck to the pillow. It happened so fast, she didn't know what to think. She wiggled her arms in vain.
"Let me go."
"You don't really want me to."
She didn't. With the lack of refusal, he gave a half-smirk, mercury eyes flashing in the glowing green of the dungeon.
"Yesterday, you took what you wanted." He glanced down her body. At her breasts arching towards him and lower to the places that throbbed with desire. "Now, it's my turn."
He leaned down until his lips touched the top of her clavicle bone, letting his tongue and lips make a trail down the center of her body until he looked at her, face positioned between her thighs. What he was doing, his tongue touching every inch of skin, except where she wanted him too, could be classified as torture.
"When you woke up this morning, I could tell you wanted to leave," he whispered into her skin. "But I plan to keep right here for as long as possible." His tongue brushed against her, and she thought she'd self-combust.
After that, he made her world explode. Her back arched, wrists stuck to her pillow. By then end, she screamed like he wanted. And when she thought she had more than she could take, he crawled up her body, gave her a slow kiss, and entered her. He gave a loud groan when fully inside.
"If you're wondering," he whispered in her ear, "This is exactly where I plan to stay."
Hermione
When Hermione woke the second time, she was tangled with Draco. His leg was tucked over her lower body, and their other limps were over and under each other.
She slowly edged away. He made a little noise, and she paused, but when his breathing resumed, she continued her escape until the knot of their limbs became untangled.
She took a moment to look at Draco asleep. He resembled his mother in this state. His mouth softened; the hard grip of his jaw loosened. She wondered if he'd have looked like this awake—so carefree—if Voldemort had never spread his stain.
Or if his father had never taught him to be his clone.
Alas, Draco was Draco: calculating, manipulative, intense, with a surprising tender side. He set fire to her blood, and despite his lack of experience, he managed to satisfy her.
But she couldn't trust him. Which is why she had to do what she had to do.
As Draco slept, she searched the room, starting from the top and ending at the bottom. It wasn't very big, but there were infinite places he could hide it.
I'm not stupid enough to keep it on my person. He had told her what seemed a lifetime ago.
It could be anywhere, but she doubted he'd risk it too far from his control, especially since she knew all the good hiding spots of Hogwarts already, and the room of requirement was still aflame.
The desk contained nothing remarkable, but under the bed was a simple chest, smaller than a normal trunk for school clothes. Even as she kept searching, her eyes kept being drawn back to it, until she gave into her curiosity.
Hermione brought out her wand, tapping it against her hand as she contemplated how to get into the damnable thing. It was warded… strongly. The bands of magic gave warning zaps from here. And if she attempted a ward-breaking spell, it might alert him.
She chewed at her bottom lip until she glanced up at his hand, dangling from the bed. He had elegant long fingers, nails cut so cleanly she knew an elf did it, with tiny scars covering his knuckles. It was surprisingly strong, callused from years of quidditch practice. And it would help her open the chest.
Hermione picked up the chest and gently touched the pads of his fingers to the lock. It clicked open, and Draco groaned with the noise. Hermione quickly shoved the chest under the bed. It disappeared from view, the lid still ajar, just as Draco cracked open an icy eye.
He stared at her and blinked.
"Why are you on the floor?" His voice came out crackly with sleep.
"I um… well…" she stuttered. "I just wanted to do this." She leaned forward and kissed him.
He groaned, pressing them together. Her breasts pushed into his chest as he snaked his hands around her waist and held her tight.
"You're lying to me, but I almost don't care because you're looking like a dream. So here's the choices: you can either tell me the truth, or you can keep distracting me. In truth, I'd rather the latter."
He paused, waiting.
Hermione sighed.
"I was just looking for my cloak."
It was partly true, which was the best type of lie. When she was searching, she noticed it was gone, as well as the map.
He grinned.
"You'll get it back when I'm ready for you to exit this room. Preferably right before the train leaves back for home. So good ahead and lie to me again, so I have an excuse to kiss you again."
"You're uglier than a troll," Hermione leaned back and traced patterns on his chest, following the path of scars.
"The troll take pride in the title of ugliest creature on Earth. They'd be mad to know you gave the title to someone so undeserving of it."
She snorted out some laughter. Draco's hands went to the back of her thighs and tugged them apart, so she straddled him.
Hermione raised her eyebrow.
"Again?"
He only smirked until he gave a quick barrel roll. She gave out a squeak as she landed under him. The apex of their thighs fit so perfectly, as if made for each other.
"It's time I punished you for that smart little mouth." He entered her in a single stoke, groaning. He was already getting better at this. She dug her hands into the sheets beside her and then down his back as he ravaged her, flipping her over during the middle, taking her from behind like an animal until she shuddered and he finished inside her.
Later, he rolled off the bed and stalked out the room with a towel slung low on his hips, showing off the V of muscles on his lower abdomen on his way to a shower. She lay back on his bed with cum still dripping down her legs. As if that reminded her, she trailed the wand across her belly. It glowed bright with a contraceptive charm. There was no way she wanted to have the next Malfoy heir.
After, she stretched and stood up, gathering the invisibility cloak that Draco had draped on the back of the chair on his way to the shower. The map he had set on his desk still in pristine unrumpled condition, even after all these years.
And then she leaned down, tugged the chest out from under the bed, and opened it.
Inside was a picture of Draco as a little boy next to his parents. Lucius looked at him with genuine delight and Narcissa beamed. They were a beautiful family, like models in a magazine. Draco looked adorable in his miniature dress robes. He grasped a toy broom and gave a wiggle of jump over and over.
She wondered why he kept such a photo locked away, but she had no time. She shoved it aside, finding several odd potion jars and another smaller bottle of Ogdens. Hermione stopped when she found several newspaper clippings of her and Harry. Harry and Ron's face were blotted out, leaving only her grinning and waving to the camera. She placed the clippings back in the box not sure how she felt about the finding.
The newspapers were from two years before they made a bet or a connection. Had he always had some perverse fascination for her? Not willing to think too hard on it, she rifled to the bottom, ignoring the other contents, until she found what she was looking for.
She took the vial out, staring at the shining silver floating in the glass.
She stashed the memory in the pockets lining the cloak and extracted an identical one.
If all went the right way, it wouldn't matter that she did this. The memories would be back in her possession with him being none the wiser.
"Please, prove me wrong." Hermione buried the counterfeit memory in the chest, shutting it and showing it back under the bed.
After, she sighed and stood up, staring at the chest and then at the bed where she spent nearly a whole day tangled with Draco in its soft as silk sheets.
"It was just a little fun," she tried to tell herself as she exited the Slytherin dorm, wrapped up in the invisibility cloak.
The lie tasted like ash on her tongue.