Assholes? Arseholes? Who even knew?
The narrator was American and didn't have a Brit-picker to consult with.
But let's get back to our favorite… jerks.
*Many Months Earlier*
The school year had begun in a fairly bland manner. Hermione had settled into her Head Girl duties, as well as her familiar propensity to basically live in the library.
Ho hum. Hum drum. Typical.
Everyone seemed to be operating under the same conspiracy of normalcy. It was as if a psychopathic noseless tyrant hadn't recently wiped out a third of their population. Hermione didn't mind, though. She herself was obviously quite careworn and therefore content to play make believe with the rest. Harry and Ron had thrown themselves into Auror work, and she had thrown herself into schoolwork.
Harry coped with feelings by saving people.
Ron coped with feelings by glomming on to Harry's need to save people.
Hermione coped with feelings by running to her books.
Only… she would normally be researching something to do with whoever needed saving by Harry.
The absence of her other two limbs left her feeling particularly… pointless. As a person. Like… what was even the point of her now?
Thinking it would be best to give herself something other than schoolwork and Head duties to occupy her mind, she'd resurrected S.P.E.W. (That's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, for any of you weirdos who haven't read Goblet of Fire - Hermione is basically a SJW for house elves). Many more in the school were now willing to buy a badge and support her cause.
The benefit of being a celebrity was that it didn't matter what sort of asinine bullshit you were fighting for; your true fans would always go along. So much so that you could be completely delusional, misinformed, and generally ridiculous, and no one would ever call you on it.
And so… no one did! It was blissful oblivion for Hermione Granger.
Sort of.
Hermione still needed capital to get her movement fully off the ground, and seven sickles per member for dues was not going to cut it. No, she needed real money.
That was where Draco Malfoy came in.
She'd been concocting ways to begin some sort of acquaintance with him. She had learned long ago that the best ways to manipulate boys were fear and sex.
She'd used the latter very sparingly, relying instead on her brilliant mind and spell-casting ability in order to assert dominance. Generally, she'd been terrible at the latter. Coquettish coaxing was not her forte, and were she to ever offer up her body as an act of logical exchange for some favor, most boys would find that just as intimidating as her magical threats.
Except, perhaps, for Draco Malfoy.
This was where sex and logic had collided in a beautiful improvised interpretive dance.
Draco Malfoy had returned to Hogwarts. Merlin knew why! To say that the other students gave him a wide berth was the understatement of 1998. She'd noticed that he hadn't seemed bothered by it. If anything, it'd seemed to suit him well.
She found herself jealous, as she was regularly assaulted by cameras and requests for autographs in the halls and at meal times, not to mention the fan mail. Oh, the bloody fan mail!
She was finding a cynical shift in her personality simply due to the amount of bullshit she had to endure on a daily basis as a "war heroine" – before you knew it, there would be dolls of her promoting things like "WITCH POWER!"
No, seriously, they'd be front of display soon at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes: Hogsmeade.
Yep, she was famous and it was unbearable.
Malfoy had had no such experience. So, apart from the fact the he seemed to enjoy the solitude that his reputation garnered him, she had to imagine that he was… lonely wasn't the right word. Starved for companionship? Yes, that was more like it.
After all, he was a warm blooded (debatable) eighteen-year-old who had had the majority of his early teen years usurped by the aforementioned psycho-snake, and couldn't have had much time for sexual exploits.
i.e. that boy HAD to be horny.
It was just logic. Hermione's specialty.
The prospect of a Malfoy funding her house elf cause was as far-fetched as breaking into Gringotts and escaping on a dragon, so she liked her odds.
Determined to achieve her ends some way, somehow, Hermione set about enacting her plan.
This would require a fair bit of foundation-laying, and she herself was starved for a task to help shove away the latent grief from her buffet of trauma over the last few years, so she wanted to move quickly.
Harry had gifted her the Marauder's Map for her return to the school, so finding out where Malfoy typically hung about was no issue. The bigger one would be getting him to even speak to her. If she was honest, she had no idea where he stood in regards to her. They had never been friends (obviously) and yet he hadn't given her, Harry, and Ron up when he could have at Malfoy Manor. It had probably been for some selfish fucking reason, but still.
He'd also hung about in The Great Hall after the battle rather than immediately retreating.
Somehow, she'd had a sense that he desired acceptance. Reformation, even. She would play that card if need be. First, she'd go with the direct indecent proposal.
One evening in late September, she had solo-rounds, as her co-Head was in the hospital wing for a Quidditch accident. She opened the map and located Malfoy where he'd usually lurked, likely disillusioned, near Snape's old office. Slughorn hadn't taken it over and it'd remained a sort of shrine to the unlikely hero. Hermione had only briefly wondered why Malfoy chose this spot to linger, but did not give it much more thought.
Casting her own disillusionment charm and silencing her heeled boots, she made her way down.
A surprisingly sad scene met her eyes; Draco Malfoy was sitting on the stone floor, head hung between his legs, elbows on knees, holding a flask.
It hadn't occurred to her that he'd been drinking away his sorrows.
It hadn't occurred to her that he'd had sorrows.
Furthermore, she was not interested in hearing his sorrows, and was sure he wouldn't share them with her if she was.
Looking down at him, and with another small shock, she registered the fact that he was not, in fact, disillusioned. Bold move.
Bold… or stupid. Maybe he enjoyed the idea of being caught? Or the risk?
Well, no point in trying to figure the bastard out, really. She was done with hypotheticals and ready to see what would happen if she just gave this a shot.
Standing directly before him, she removed her charms.
"Don't scream. I come in peace," she said as she quickly cast and then removed a silencing charm on him. It had done the trick. Whatever yell he had let out at her appearance had been successfully muted.
"What the fuck, Granger?" he yelled, getting to his feet with surprising grace.
"Keep your voice down or I'll do it again for you," she hissed.
His anger filled the air like a balmy late summer day's humidity. "Like hell you-"
But he wasn't going to be finishing any sentences at that volume on this night.
Even if he'd notice her hand movements, he couldn't have prevented her wordless, wandless magic. Instantly, his voice was again muted and he was pinned against the stone wall. Calmly, she strode towards him and removed the flask from his pinned hand. His lips moved, but she was blissfully oblivious to the aspersions he'd surely cast her way. Looking him dead in the eyes, she took a sip from the flask.
Firewhisky. It had recently become a favorite of hers and she savored the burn.
It was some good shit. Rich little fuck.
"This is amazing," she said, staring at the small silver container that was surely a Malfoy heirloom. Then she looked back up with him, a serene smile on her face.
"I didn't come here to duel, Malfoy. Will you please promise to keep your voice down so I can release these undignified spells?"
She took his sneer as an answer and released the spells as she turned away from him, taking another casual sip.
"How dare you put your filthy mouth on my flask," he growled.
She spun around and advanced on him again.
"Where should I put it instead?" she growled back, her eyes boring into his.
He was fucking hot. She had always known it, had always suppressed the awareness, and was not trying to push it away anymore. That was part of why this all made logical sense to her, a latent attraction on her part would be excellent fuel to get past the fact that she found the idea of seducing him generally appalling even if only on principal.
Physically, she had no qualms. She'd been particularly… starved for companionship herself.
Blood purity bullshit aside, she'd always had an inkling that he'd had a thing for her as well. What better way to test a theory about having the key to tame a dragon than to walk right into said dragon's lair and demand obedience.
"Where should I put it instead?" – her words rang in the stone corridor.
He blinked, but made no reply. They stood there in silence, glaring at one another.
She bit her lower lip very subtly and felt a thrill shoot through her as his eyes darted down to observe the movement.
Victory. She could almost hear her own voice whispering it all around the corridor.
"What are you playing at, Granger?" His voice was low, quiet with danger and promise. She shuddered.
"Nothing yet," she said.
His brow furrowed for a moment. They were still standing so close; she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Fine, warm blooded after all.
She chanced her own glance down at his lips and then back up to his storm cloud eyes.
"Why did you come down here?"
The fact that he was confused and asking questions rather than merely walking away made her feel… powerful. It was something she hadn't felt in quite a while. She found that it acted like a balm to her boredom, as well as a delightful distraction from her worldly woes.
But she should calm down with the alliteration. Too much of a good thing and all that.
"Why did you come down here?" – she let his question hang in the air for a while before answering.
"Why do you suppose?"
At this, he let out a low laugh. "As if anyone could figure out how your mind works, Granger. First they'd have to battle through that bushy nest on your head to even access it."
"You love it," she said with narrowed eyes and a lilt of her chin.
"What?"
"Malfoy, this is boys 101. You tease because you want what you can't have."
He scoffed as loudly as one could scoff.
"As if I would ever reduce myself to wanting a mud-"
"Shhh… you don't want to use that word just now," she said, stopping him with a finger over his lips. He froze. "Best save it for the times when you really want to shock me. Don't let it lose its efficacy."
He seemed completely thrown by this, she could see it in his eyes. She removed her finger, and for the briefest moment, his face betrayed a sense of disappointment.
"Now," she continued in a business-like manner, even though she was still so close to him they were almost pressed together. "I have a proposition for you, so listen closely because the offer will expire in a fortnight."
A small grimace crossed his face, but she took his silence as acquiescence and kept going.
"We're both virtually alone here this year. Hardly any of our year have returned, and the ones who have don't understand what either of us has been through. No one does really."
Her voice trailed off and she waited a beat while they both processed what she had just spoken. It was true. There was an incredibly odd sort of camaraderie available between them, given their proximity to the end of Voldemort, even if they had fought on opposite sides.
"I don't want to make new friends. I certainly am not interested in a boyfriend. Everyone that speaks to me now… I can't trust that they care about anything but being closer to a war heroine."
She rolled her eyes on that last bit and heard him stifle a chuckle.
"Get to the point, Granger."
"I think we should fuck."
If there was something he was expecting her to say, that clearly wasn't it.
"You honestly believe that I would lower myself to-"
"I do," she said, closing the space between them by stepping in and pressing her hips against him. He did not even hint at removing himself and she smiled inwardly, even though she'd known since his lip-glance that she'd had him.
Then she let her eyes rove all around his face, her breath ghosting over his lips. He was incredibly controlled, and yet she could sense the subtlest quiver in his body as she moved. Restraint.
She brought her lips to his ear and said, "just think about it, Malfoy." Then, he inhaled sharply as she let her lips take his earlobe, her tongue giving it a gentle caress. When she pulled away, she was gratified to see that he had his eyes closed. Taking the opportunity, she re-cast her charms and silently disappeared into the night.
"Granger?" was the last thing she heard before she was out of earshot.
Phase one of fundraising efforts: COMPLETE.
oOoOoOo
Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table the next morning in the middle of an existential life crisis. Of course, it was also entirely possible that he was overdramatizing the situation in the extreme.
It wasn't like the mudblood had been admitting anything other than physical feelings, and he certainly had had his fair share of nasty fantasies involving the stupid bint. They were merely sexual fantasies. It was all about power and dominance. Nothing more.
That was what he'd told himself, anyway. Feel free to think you know better, alright?
The life crisis was really a symptom of some other sensations and yearnings he'd noticed during and after their interaction the evening prior. Something around his own public vindication that might become possible due to an alliance with the golden bitch herself.
Let's face it, though, he was not self-aware enough to recognize those feelings.
What he could feel, however, were his new and confusing lustful feelings for her.
He had to admit it, it had been fucking hot.
The way she'd bitten her lip.
The way she'd let her breath ghost over his lips. She'd smelled of spearmint.
That... ear... thing. He'd been completely undone by the witch in a matter of moments and he was, frankly, impressed.
It had been her confidence. Where had it come from?
He felt a moment of pride, thinking that the years of bullying had actually caused a positive change in the girl. Caused her to rise to the occasion and take back her power.
It was pretty fucking pretentious for him to even attempt to lay claim to credit for her personal transformation, but he was a pretentious little shit, so that's just what he did.
He had a fortnight to decide, but didn't need it.
The chance to fuck Hermione Granger with no strings attached was far too great to pass up.
"Existential crisis over," he thought to himself.
.
.
Later that day, he enacted his own plan. Disillusioning himself and silencing his shoes as he assumed she had done the night prior, he followed her on her rounds. Why was she alone? Weren't they meant to do this in pairs? It was how it had been in his time as Prefect. McGonnagal, of course, had not been about to offer him such a post… post-war. Times had changed.
When Granger reached the end of her rounds (which were decidedly uneventful) she retired back to her quarters. He followed closely behind her after she'd opened the door and was grateful that she'd stood briefly in the doorway removing her shoes before closing it behind her. Forgetting he had a silencing charm on, he stealthily followed her into her bedroom. He had to stifle a gasp as she began undressing immediately, tossing her robes over her desk chair and beginning to unbutton her blouse. He licked his lips as he watched her. Once her shirt was off, she began to work the buttons of her school skirt and he moved in, undoing his charms as he went.
He cast the same series of spells on her, even though it didn't matter if she screamed. He intended to make her scream that night.
She spun around and her arms were pinned to the wall as unknown words tumbled from her muted mouth. Flashing his signature smirk, he sauntered over to her, a gleam in his eye that hadn't been there for years.
"Don't worry, Granger. I come in peace."
He watched her for a moment as she registered her own words on his lips and observed adorable freckles on her nose as she sneered at him.
That was a pretty good sneer, actually. He was impressed.
"You can actually scream all you want; in fact, I imagine I'll be encouraging it."
Her mouth stilled and her expression calmed. He released the spells and she rubbed her wrists as if she'd been in shackles. She did not scream… yet. She went for a low, angry rasp instead.
"How dare you follow me into my private quarters, you pretentious little-" He put a finger over her mouth and was surprised when she actually stopped speaking. A moment of triumph.
The look she gave him, though, took his breath away. It was one of lustful astonishment, filled with an innocence he was not prepared for in that moment.
Finding that he wasn't up for re-enacting their entire "thing" from the night before, he instead shifted his hand to brush his thumb across her lip. She took in a breath and closed her eyes, and he ran his fingers along her jaw, finally entangling them into her mess of curls.
Abruptly, he tugged her forward by the hair, his lips millimeters from hers.
"You were right about the hair thing," he murmured. "It's a fucking mess and I love it."
Then, finally, their lips met. They both let out something between a moan and a whimper at the contact. It was hard to say if one was more emphatic than the other, they both seemed to want and need this in equal measure, and their tongues swirled around one another amidst lip nipping and lapping licks. Tasting. Discovering. Exploring one another.
It was like she was Christmas morning and he had so many presents to unwrap.
Speaking of which, he realized that his presents were mostly unwrapped before him. So intent had he been on her lips and hair, he'd quite forgotten that the witch was almost naked. Apparently, she hadn't, because in that moment, she was fixedly divesting him of his own clothing.
Suddenly she stopped and pushed him back. He growled at the loss of contact.
"Wait, we haven't set any ground rules."
"Is that really necessary?" he whined, leaning in to kiss her neck. She whimpered at his touch and grasped his shoulders. He brought both hands up to grasp her lace-covered tits and rubbed his thumbs over her pert nipples.
"Malfoy," she moaned, and he felt his cock twitch.
"Yes, Granger? Please keep telling me about these rules," he said, moving down to shove her bra out of the way and taking one of her perky tits into his mouth. She let out a squeal this time. He wondered how long it had been for her. Feeling it would be best to capitalize on her overwhelmed state, he ran a hand down to her knickers and rubbed his fingers slowly, starting at her clit and moving lower, then back up. He could feel her slick wetness under the lace, but did not move the material aside yet. It was obvious, however, that she'd be soaked through pretty soon and it almost wouldn't matter.
He moved up to her ear and repeated the motion she'd done to him the night before with her tongue, then said, "For example, shall we make a rule about how many times I make you come before we fuck? I'm thinking two should be the baseline."
With that, he dropped down to lave at her clit over her knickers and she let out the most glorious noise of desperation and relief.
It wasn't a selfless thing; it was a pride thing. He was not about to allow Hermione Granger the ability to say he wasn't able to satisfy her. Not that they were going to be a public couple, of course, it was just the principle of the thing. He would bring her with his mouth, then his cock, then he would see about his own release.
Her legs were trembling uncontrollably as he raced his tongue over her clit. When he finally pushed the material aside, he heard her utter a small yet impassioned, "No," and he looked up in time to see her making an odd movement with her hand like she had the night before. He had suspected wandless magic, but hadn't been sure whether he'd just missed the wand in her other hand.
He was now pinned against the wall and very sure: this was perhaps the scariest witch he'd ever met.
"I want to suck you off first," she said, removing his pants and smiling as his fully erect cock sprang free. Then she leaned her head to the side and held her hand over her throat.
"Opstruo libera" she said. It was a spell he'd never heard before.
"On second thoughts, ground rules sound like an excellent idea. For example: no pinning me to the fucking wall and sucking me off against my will."
She shrugged. "You didn't seem to care a minute ago. Too late now."
With that, she took him fully into her mouth. Draco knew that he was larger than average. The few experiences he'd had with this usually resulted in complaints from the witches on their knees. This witch, however, was not complaining.
Whatever that spell had been seemed to be intended to aid her in this particular task. He couldn't think about it any further, however… well, because he couldn't think at all. She had him deep into her throat, and since his wrists and ankles were pinned, he had limited mobility.
Oh fuck, he wanted so badly to grab her hair and have some semblance of control over her movements. As it was, he would likely explode down her throat any second. Her full and perfect lips were wrapped around him, and she was pushing him deep into the back of her throat with every thrust.
This was supposed to be his time to control and please her. If they did indeed continue, he knew there would always be this quest for control on both sides.
"Granger," he moaned, and she began to move faster. He was already getting close when he heard a wet sound and looked down to see that she'd been vigorously rubbing her own clit. Just as he glanced down, she moved her knickers and shoved two fingers in. That sent him over the edge and he came hard right down her throat. She tensed, poised to receive. He could hear and feel her working to swallow every drop of him as he pulsed and convulsed, his cock throbbing in her throat. Her moan of pleasure was enough to make him fall over had he not been stuck there, and he realized that she had come along with him.
His back pushed firmly into the wall as his sticking charms released; he could hardly stand. When he glanced down, the most breath taking sight stood, er, kneeled before him.
Hermione Granger, on her knees, wiping his come off her lips and licking it off her fingers.
With a jolt, he remembered where those fingers had just been and his cock came back to life for a moment with a twitch. Her eyes widened at the movement.
"Already coming back for more, are we?"
He shook his head. "Not me. You."
In the low, gravelly voice that seemed to do her in, he said, "Bed. Now."
She said nothing but began sauntering over to the bed.
"And no more spells tonight. Or ever. Truce?" he said.
With a coy smirk she said, "Oh no, there is no way I will be agreeing to that."
"Why not?" he said through gritted teeth.
"Because… the only way that this will work is if I regularly make you feel like a bit of an idiot. You like a challenge, so I won't be withdrawing mine."
Then she splayed herself out on the bed, and just when Draco was about to argue, she shoved a hand down her lacy knickers and began rubbing her clit, bringing up her other hand to mercilessly pinch a nipple.
"Mmmmm…. Mmmmmm…. Malfoy-"
He was on top of her, roughly shoving her further up the bed and burying his face once again between her tanned, perfect thighs. Since when did Granger have curves?
He wasted no time and shoved his tongue into her slit, tasting her with veneration. Any complaints he'd had in the past about this particular activity faded away, he was a new man. As he worked her clit and inserted a few fingers he found himself saying, "tell me what you like, Granger."
"Mmmmm," was her response, hips bucking her pussy into his lips.
"Talk to me," he said, not knowing quite why. It was instinctual. Something in him said she would enjoy it more if she had some say in what he was doing.
"Mmm… kiss it… kiss my cunt."
Draco obeyed, placing light kisses all over her clit and surrounding skin.
"With tongue," she breathed, and he understood. Slowly, expertly, he began laving at her skin and ending it with a kiss each time, as if he were kissing her mouth. He moved all around, covering every bit of her that he could reach. As he methodically worked on giving her clit more and more of the attention, he sensed that she was being built up quite well. She was trembling under his touch.
"Draco please," she moaned.
"Please what? I want to hear it."
"Please make me come now."
Continuing to place wet sloppy kisses all around her clit without touching it, he said, "How exactly would you like me to do that?"
She whimpered in protest but took a deep breath and said, "Add a third finger and put your tongue flat against my clit so I can fuck your face."
If he was already hard, then he got immeasurably harder at hearing her words, her specificity. He made no reply other than to smirk and follow her instructions. Licking one of his fingers for extra ease, he then brought three to her opening and shoved in. It was a tight squeeze, and he could feel her walls clench around his fingers. He instantly could think of little else besides sliding his cock into her perfect pussy… but that would wait.
Obediently, he brought his tongue flat against her clit and applied pressure, encouraging her to move. Releasing a litany of small, tortured moans, she pumped her hips and pressed her clit into his tongue. She seemed ready to come undone any second, and her slow speed must be due to wanting to prolong the pleasure.
He moved his fingers in and out of her, and curled them up to search for her spot. Pressing back and stroking the same spot over and over, he noticed her shudder rhythmically with his movements, and suddenly her hips were moving faster. With rising fury, she fucked his face and he stroked her inside walls firmly, feeling her throb and begin to fall apart.
She screamed. It was so loud. He would never forget the exact sound she made.
She convulsed violently under his tongue and touch.
"I'm- I'm coming… Malfoy… I'm coming."
He continued doing what he was doing until she clearly had had enough and couldn't do with more contact. Even still, as he pulled away, he placed a light kiss just above her clit.
She laughed and grinned down at him.
The both panted as they looked at one another.
"Well, I think it's safe to say we have chemistry, don't you, Malfoy?"
He scoffed. "Don't go getting any ideas, Granger. I don't do relationships. You fuck me or you fuck off."
Her eyes narrowed. "I wasn't implying romantic chemistry, you arrogant fuck!"
"Granger, like I said, fuck me or fuck off. If you want to get fucked, then turn over so I don't have to look at your face."
With a huff, she actually turned right over and put her ass in the air for him to ravish.
He cast a lubrication charm, just in case, and slid into her slick warmth.
Merlin, she was so perfectly tight. He seemed to fit inside her like they were custom made for this. He filled her completely, and once she'd gotten used to his size, began pounding into her as hard as he could.
Unbeknownst to him, Hermione hid a mischievous smirk below the mane of hair that was obscuring her sweaty, satisfied face.