Draco Malfoy was tired. He was entering his tenth hour of his third consecutive twelve hour shift and he was reaching his wits' end. Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he took a couple slow breaths before heading to the Healers' Station. A younger healer, Lucinda looked up at him through horned rimmed glasses.
"I've got some bad news, Healer Malfoy," she said, handing a plastic clipboard over the plastic counter of the station to him. "You've got another in Room 3." Draco sighed. It had been a busy night, even for a Saturday, and Draco was hoping the slight lull of the past hour would carry on through the rest of his shift. He was off tomorrow, and he couldn't wait to sleep in past six am. He flicked through the briefing in front of him, gathering the important details quickly. Accidental potions administration, effects lasting three hours thus far, no known antidote. Well, no one seemed to be treating it as an emergency; he looked around the station, noticing a couple of the healers gossiping over paper cups of coffee while Lucinda spun in her chair, a muggle phone pressed against her ear. Definitely not an emergency, he mused to himself, setting off down the hallway in the direction of Room 3. Maybe a kid had mixed the wrong things together, sprouted an extra limb he couldn't get rid of. Or perhaps someone had taken a little too much calming draught and gotten themselves in a tizzy, unsure of when the effects would end. What met him on the other side of the door was not what he expected at all.
Hermione Granger was perched atop the crinkling paper on the healer's table, her hands gripping the edges, knuckles white from exertion. She was flushed down to her breasts, slightly exposed in the v cut of her black tee shirt, under her regulation lab coat. She growled under her breath when she caught the direction of his gaze and he cleared his throat, meeting her pointed glare.
"What took you so long," she spat out, rocking slightly on the table, before shaking her head as if she needed to clear it. "Fuck!" Draco's eyes widened. Perhaps this was an emergency. It wasn't often (if ever) a Potions Master of Hermione Granger's caliber landed herself on his table.
"It says here accidental administration, Granger," Draco began, clearing his throat again and pulling a pen from the pocket of his robe. He flipped once more through the brief. "Any idea what it was?" Draco was sure she could kill him merely with the look she was giving him.
"No," she grimaced, "or else I wouldn't be on your bloody table, would I? I would've figured out an antidote by now!" Draco glanced nervously at the door, wondering if anyone would hear his screams if she attacked.
"Assumably, you've tried a bezoar and the like," he murmured, looking at her vitals. She rolled her eyes.
"I've tried bloody everything, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. He looked up, noticing how hard she was pressing her legs together, her sneaker clad feet bouncing anxiously. He cocked his head to the side.
"What are the effects, Granger? You seem to be running a bit warmer than normal," he stood, coming to stand in front of her, and pressed his wand to her temple to retake her temperature.
"Warmer," Hermione scoffed. "I'm bloody well burning up." He studied her for a minute, chest heaving as she panted.
"Shortness of breath," he murmured to himself, flicking his wand in the direction of the clipboard, setting the pen to writing. His fingers felt for the pulse in her neck and he watched as tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She bit her bottom lip, hard. "Increased heart rate."
Hermione slapped his hand away, taking him by surprise.
"What the- what did you do that for," he asked, looking at her as though she were deranged.
"Don't. Touch. Me. Malfoy," she bit out, and Draco for a second was reminded of the time she gave him a solid right hook to the nose in third year. He straightened his Healers robes.
"I'm sorry, Granger. Did that cause you pain?," he asked, the cogs in his brain working over time to try to figure out what was going on. Tender to touch, he listed mentally, thinking of every potion he could that could possibly cause such an interesting mix of symptoms.
"No," she said, so quietly that he almost missed it.
"No," he repeated. Curious. "You slapped me away. I'm just trying to help you, Granger, I'll remain completely professional throughout this entire ordeal, I took an oath you know, and I know we've had our differences.. our many differences.. in the past, but this is my job and -"
She cut his rambling off with a raised palm. Stop.
"It felt so, so good, Malfoy," she whispered, flushing redder, if that were even possible. She shifted on the table, her thighs rubbing together, in an attempt to alleviate the hunger she felt in her core, and that was when it all clicked.
"Granger - are you-?" His eyes went wide, taking her in as though he was seeing her for the first time. She was shifting on the table, almost as if she was rubbing herself against it. Her nipples were pressing hard against the thin fabric of her shirt.
"Malfoy," she ground out. "I don't know whats happening to me. I've never felt this… this… before." She shucked her white overcoat from her shoulders, tossing it to the floor. "I'm so hot." She rubbed her own hand up the side of her neck, her eyes fluttering closed and her lips parting in a silent moan. She lifted her hair from the back of her neck. "I need something, Malfoy. If you don't do something soon, I'm going to die." She looked up at him, her words strained, her eyes pleading.
"Granger," he started slowly, "I'm going to go down the hall and fetch another bezoar. I really feel like we should give that another shot. In the meantime, and I'll knock before reentering, I feel like you should, erm, well, give it a go yourself - see if you can maybe, take care of yourself." He was wringing his hands anxiously, and if Hermione wasn't certain she was about to burst into flames she would've cursed him on the spot.
"You really think I haven't tried?," Hermione asked incredulously. "I spent two hours doing that before coming here, and trust me, Malfoy, that only made it worse." The mental picture of Hermione Granger playing with herself made him feel lightheaded, the thought of her fingers, or maybe a toy, doing things he'd only imagined made him blush almost as red as her.
She was standing now, unfastening the button on her black trousers, shoving them and her sensible pink cotton knickers hastily down in one go before sitting back on the table, spreading her legs lewdly. Draco gasped, his eyes flickering down to her swollen, pink pussy before looking up at her helplessly. Gods, he could smell her across the room. She was glistening; he was certain he'd never seen anyone so deliciously wet before.
"Hermione-," he began, trailing off when he didn't know what to say. She looked at him, her amber eyes pleading.
"Please, Draco. Please. Touch me."
He sat gingerly on the stool, rolling closer to her. He was so close, he could feel the heat emanating from her body. He glanced up, and she nodded her permission. He reached out, gently dragging two fingers through her slick folds.
"Yes," Hermione hissed, her hips pushing towards him, urging him on. His middle finger sank into her, thrusting several times, testing, rotating his wrist to hit her at different angles. So bloody tight. So fucking wet. He bit back his own groan of pleasure. He'd only dreamt of doing this since he was sixteen, and now, that dream was coming true - albeit not quite as he had imagined - but coming true nonetheless.
"Just - just let me know what you need, Granger," Draco said quietly. "I'll do my best."
"More," she ground out, her walls clenching around his finger. "I need more, and I need it faster." He pushed a second finger into her with a welcoming squelch, and curled both, searching for the spot he hoped would make her toes curl. He thrust his fingers into, setting a quick pace that had her keening. Hermione tugged her shirt over her head, shoving the cups of her lace bra down so that she could tug at her hardened, pink nipples. Draco felt his mouth water at the sight. This had to be a dream.
She was so wet for him, her juices slick on her thighs, the paper beneath her damp as small spurts of liquid came from her. Draco watched in awe.
"So help me God, Malfoy, if you don't put your cock in me this instant, I'll burn this whole place down!" Draco did not need to be told twice and stood, pushing his robes from his shoulders and unbuckling his belt. Hermione gripped him by the belt loop of his trousers and pulled him into her, her mouth seeking his out for a scorching kiss. She moaned into it, and he instinctually allowed his tongue to plunder her mouth. She pulled him out of his trousers, relishing at his heavy weight in her palm. She chuckled dangerously and Draco groaned when she gripped him tightly.
"Damn, Malfoy, if I had known you were hiding this, I might have found you a little less insufferable," she murmured, licking her lips. Draco buried a hand in her hair, dragging her mouth back to his to quiet her. He felt her small hand holding him, directing him, lining him up with her soaked entrance. She pushed her hips forward ever so slightly, her opening clutching at the head of him. He pushed forward in one stroke, sheathing himself to the hilt with ease. Hermione's held fell back in a silent scream, and her body quaked around him, her walls fluttering. Had she-? That was a first for him.
"I can't believe I just came," Hermione said breathlessly, staring at him wide eyed. She shifted around him, adjusting to his width. "That's never happened before. Well, not that easily." Her breathing began to slow back to a more normal pace, a faint blush on her cheeks all that was left. They side effects of whatever potion she'd accidentally doused herself with were subsiding. Malfoy took notice and tried to gather himself, pulling away slowly. However, her legs wrapped around his waist, effectively trapping him in place.
"Hermione," he groaned. "We can stop now. There's no pressure to return the favor; I was only trying to help." Her heels dug into his arse, pushing him fully back inside of her and his eyes fluttered close. She felt better than he'd ever imagined. It was almost painful, knowing that this was all the result of a rogue potion accident.
"Tsk, tsk, Malfoy," Hermione purred, rocking her hips slowly against him. "I didn't peg you for the type to give up after the first orgasm. We've all heard the rumors - that you could go for days pleasing a woman." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from thrusting into her relentlessly, just to shut her up. He had to stay professional; he'd worked too hard to have one massive lawsuit come and bite him in the arse.
"I'm completely in my right mind, now," she cooed, trailing her fingers along the buttons of his white dress shirt, lazily flicking them open one at a time. "And we're already this… deep… in. We might as well keep going." He searched her eyes then, looking for any sign that she was still feeling the effects of the potion, and found nothing but natural, unbridled lust looking back at him.
"Turn around. On your knees," Draco commanded gently. Hermione maneuvered herself on the table, glancing over her shoulder at him curiously. He put an arm around her waist, easily tugging the petite witch backwards, so that her bum was slightly over the edge of the table. She fell forward onto her hands as he lined himself up at her entrance once again, thrusting into her roughly. A hand bunched her curls into a ponytail, tugging her up so that her back arched prettily as he pounded into her. He watched the beautiful sight she made, arse cheeks rippling with every thrust. He took his free hand and landed a loud smack against the left one that had her moaning for more.
"Yes, give it to me, Malfoy," she gasped, pushing back onto him in time with his thrusts. "Fuck my wet little pussy. Make me yours."
Her words had him spiraling, thrusting wildly into her, reaching a hand around to rub insistently at her clit, refusing to let himself cum before she did again. Hermione's moans reached another crescendo, and another gush of wetness surrounded his prick.
"Cum inside me, Draco, please, yes," she gasped, and the use of his given name nearly sent him over the edge. He growled, pulling her back to his chest, a hand coming to wrap around her throat, squeezing as he emptied himself inside of her. They were both panting, and it was several moments before Draco pulled away.
"What the fuck was that, Granger," Draco asked breathlessly, his shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, pants still around his ankles. Hermione shrugged.
"Not quite sure, Malfoy, but I'd say it was long overdue." Draco regarded her warily. "What?"
He reached out, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. "No fever," he murmured, confused. She slapped his hand away, again, with a laugh.
"I'm fine, Malfoy," she said, hopping down from the table and retrieving her shirt. "I was fine after the first… you know." She blushed and Draco shook his head.
"You hardly get to blush now, Granger," he said, his eyes betraying his amusement. She flashed a cheeky smile. "Never in a million years would I have thought the Golden Girl would have such a dirty mouth."
"Well," Hermione said, watching as he redressed. "You don't really know me that well, now, do you?" Draco smirked.
"Better now than before." He closed the distance between them and the fire in her eyes came back to life.
"I think I should have potion accidents more often, Healer Malfoy," Hermione mused, smoothing the front of his purple robes. Draco smiled genuinely, and she thought he might be the most handsome man she'd ever seen.
"Could we at least do dinner first," he teased, a hand coming up to trap her smaller one against his chest. Hermione returned his grin.
"I think that could be arranged."