It was past curfew before Hermione got down to the library. She had taken over rounds for two other prefects even though she and Malfoy were supposed to have the night off from head duties. The two students wanted to spend their evening getting ready for the party in the Slytherin dungeons and she knew that if she didn't take over they would likely abandon their duties and leave the corridors unpatrolled.
Now the library was dark and gloomy, the only light beside the moon the candelabra above her usual desk pressed against the shelves. Pince was nowhere to be seen, having clocked out at the library's closing. The nice thing about being head girl meant that she couldn't get in much trouble for being in here after hours.
She unrolled her parchment, intending to finish the arithmancy project, but another idea struck her as she realized she was alone. She left her things and used her wand light to guide her way to the art and culture section. It took some searching, but not before long she had what she needed and spirited it back to her desk.
The book was old and musty and she took care turning the pages to the index and found what she needed. The wizarding waltz. The page she turned to next included a moving sketch of two people dancing as the writing below explained each step of the waltz. It wasn't terribly complicated, to her relief. But she would have to learn it alone, without a partner.
She was nearly finished memorizing the steps when a noise startled her to attention. A muffled thumping, as though someone ran into one of the levitating stacks of books and knocked them out of the air, came from her left. She turned to face the noise, but all was silent. She waited for another moment, staring into the gloom.
"Of course you're here," came Malfoy's voice from behind her. He appeared from behind a shelf and put out his wand light.
"I told you I would be."
"Doesn't look like you're working on our project though." He came closer and peered over her shoulder before she could stop him. She slammed the book closed, but it was too late. He had already seen. His face lit up with twisted mirth, his mouth raising into a smirk.
"Wow, Granger. I guess you don't know everything."
"Leave it, Malfoy," she said hotly. "By the end of tonight I'll know the steps of this dance as well as you do. Dancing is following instructions and I'm good at following instructions."
"You do know that you actually have to do the dance and not give an oral report on it right?'
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that there are some things you learn by doing, not reading." She didn't disagree with him. But she was currently short on people to dance with.
"I'll practice with a partner after I study it."
"With Crookshanks? I don't think he's tall enough," he said in a bland voice.
"Will you just leave if you're not going to be helpful?"
"Are you asking for my help then?" She raised her eyebrows. Was she? She didn't want to need his help, but there seemed to be a hush of calm over the library. She knew it was lulling her into a false sense of security. She had screamed at him just that afternoon, but now everything about him looked inviting, if not a little intimidating.
"You knew didn't you?" She realized it as she said it. "You knew that I had never even heard of the wizarding waltz. How would I have heard of it?"
The corner of his mouth turned up. "I kind of just wanted to see you embarrass yourself. I should have known you would find a fucking library book on dancing. That's so in character."
"Wow."
"But I'm now realizing that I can't have you embarrassing me. Making me look like a shitty waltz partner. So come on then, Granger."
He held out a hand to her. She studied it for a moment. Pale. Elegant and strong. She was really starting to think she had a weird thing for hands. There was a deep, purplish mark in the center of his right palm. The rounded scar of a gash.
She reached out slowly, tentatively. His fingers curved around her hand as he pulled her gently out of her seat, until she was standing in front of him. "Well?"
"Hand on my shoulder. Don't move it," he demanded as he placed one of her hands onto his shoulder. She left it resting lightly on the crisp fabric of his button down shirt. He reached down and took her other hand, drawing it up and out to the side of them. He was so tall that she had to tip her head all the way back to see his face. That was a mistake. His eyes were piercing silver this close. Just like when he kissed her.
"There's no music," she blurted. He sighed in annoyance.
"Use your imagination, Granger."
"When I take a step back, you take a step forward." She nodded. It sounded simple enough, but when he started to move, she found it hard to coordinate her legs. She had always had what her mother called 'two left feet'. The last time she had danced was with Ron at Bill and Fleur's wedding. She had fumbled her way through it but so had he. Before that there was the yule ball, but that had been so long ago at that point. All she could remember was that Viktor had strongarmed her around the ballroom. She hadn't cared. Still flying high on the romanticism of it all.
This was much different. Malfoy led firmly, but expected her to keep up. He snapped at her when she stepped on his feet. He was tall and lean and made it look easy. "You're terrible at this."
She nearly hissed at him. "You have no patience."
He paused and looked down at her feet. "Take off your shoes."
Her head snapped up, nearly knocking his chin. "Why?"
"Because you're going to put your feet on top of my feet so I can show you what it's supposed to feel like."
"That's absurd. Malfoy-"
"Shh, listen to teacher. I thought you were good at following instructions."
She sighed and kicked off her mary janes. Then she gingerly stepped her stockinged feet onto the tops of his black dress shoes that probably cost more than she could have guessed. He did the steps of the dance slowly, his legs nearly tangled with hers.
She was struck by the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, slow dancing in the empty library with the worst person she knew at Hogwarts by the light of a single candelabra. And for a reason she did not want to explore, she felt...like herself. Like she was in her body. Since the war, it was hard to feel present in her own skin sometimes. Like her brain had come detached from the rest of her to avoid the trauma. Depersonalization is what the mind healer called it.
But kissing Malfoy the other night had slammed her back into herself for those few moments, made her feel raw, but alive. Now, the feel of his strong frame pressed to hers, his hand gripping her waist, made her feel floaty and safe. She wanted to crawl into that feeling and stay there. But it was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Because her mind was making it up. Logically, it wasn't real. Made no sense.
"What happened to your party?"
He shifted them forward again. "Boring."
"So you decided the library would be more fun?"
"Antagonizing you usually is."
She groaned. "You're demented. Truly." He spun them around again. "I don't get it. Why do you like to upset me? There's always been other muggleborns to bully."
He pushed her forward slowly until she could feel the shelves at her back. She looked up at him, heart racing. She could have pulled away. Could have left his grip, packed up her things, put some space between them. She didn't. She was too curious to see what would happen next. His hands left her waist as his arms came up to bracket her against the bookcase.
"It's payback," he whispered harshly in the silence.
"For what?"
His head dipped then, his breath hot on her neck. "Making it hell." She had no idea what he was talking about, but the sound of his voice, the feel of his lips ghosting right below her ear made her shiver.
You're a stupid girl. Such as stupid girl. This was Draco Malfoy. Ex Death Eater. Long time rival. Someone who would leave her to die to save his own skin. She couldn't be here. Couldn't do this with him.
She slipped away from him, the cold air a shock to the front of her body. She took a few steps to where she discarded her shoes and bent to put one on. She reached for the other, but came up with nothing. He was holding her shoe when she turned around, a predatory glint in his eyes.
"My shoe, please."
He came towards her until she was standing with her back pressed against the desk she abandoned so long ago. She held her hand out for the shoe but he was already dropping to his knees in front of her. His hand wrapped around her ankle, her sheer stockings doing nothing to blunt the feeling of his skin. It's just her ankle, but feeling skitters up her leg. Ankles are strange. No one ever touches them. Now it feels intimate, somehow.
He lifted her foot and she lost her balance, her legs going soft and wobbly. Her ass landed on the desktop and he smirked, pleased with the effect he's having on her. He chuckled under his breath and gently slid her foot into the shoe.
She expected him to stand but he stayed on his knees, now gripping both ankles in his hands. Her next intake of air was audible as he slowly started to trail his fingers up her calves, looking up at her face the entire time. Heat bloomed under his fingertips and she shivered.
She kept her eyes locked with his, unable to look away. His hands landed on her knees and he brushed his thumbs over her knee caps, sliding them over the silky, sheer fabric of her tights. That feeling of returning to herself was so close. The nerves under her skin begged for more. One eyebrow quirked up at her. "Well?"
She knew what he was asking. Could he continue. His voice was so casual she could have been fooled into thinking he was bored. But his eyes were heavy with lust under his thick, dark lashes.
She was wearing thigh high stockings. She had been wearing them since fourth year because they were just so much more convenient and there was really no way for anyone to tell. The Hogwart's girls' uniforms dictated traditional stockings but this was one tiny broken rule that she allowed herself. And if his hands traveled much further, he would be the only one besides her to know of her small transgression.
She bit her lip and nodded. His hands continued their ascent as heat pooled in her core. They slid under her the hem of her skirt and she watched as he bit his own lip. She was nearly panting by the time his fingers met the bare skin of her thighs. His eyes darkened and he took in a harsh breath as she watched him come to the realization of what kind of stockings she was wearing.
He laughed quietly under his breath and her cheeks flamed. Her heart raced. Something about the embarrassment made her even more desperate for his touch. A perversion she didn't know she had. "Well, now I need to see that, Granger." His hands wrapped around her thighs and squeezed. She squirmed on the desk. Everything in her wanted to be held tighter, grabbed harder. Her core throbbed in response to his voice. He skimmed his fingers near the crease of her thighs, nearly touching the edge of her knickers. She wondered if he could feel the heat of her. The thought was nerve racking.
"Malfoy, I don't…" she exhaled, her voice shaking. "I don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Things in public like this. With people like you." He froze.
"Are you asking to stop?" Another way out, presenting itself to her. She shook her head. He sat back and dragged his hands away from her legs, leaning back on the floor. She was confused, wanted to protest. She had just told him she hadn't wanted to stop.
"Then lift up your skirt."
You stupid girl, she thought to herself as her hands dropped to her uniform skirt and started inching it up her legs. He watched with rapt attention as she exposed more and more milky skin to his eyes, the cool air of the library pricking her skin. Too soon, her skirt was rucked up around her waist.
"Spread your legs wider." She did, shifting her weight on the desk to lean back against the bookcase. "Good girl."
A hot flush came over her at his words. The praise was unexpected from him and she loved it. Reveled in it. "You're soaking through your knickers, Granger." There was a thrill at being caught that way and she gasped. It felt shameful to be wet for him. She both hated and loved that he knew it.
"Take them off." He was still leaning back on his hands, watching her in the dim light. "Come on, Granger. I don't have all night." But she could see the hard length of him through his trousers. The realization gave her the confidence to thumb the waistband of her knickers and pull them off herself, lifting her bottom off the desk to get them around her thighs.
He seemed to lose some of his patience then, leaning forward to drag the damp material off her feet and part her legs. She started to close her knees out of instinct, but he held them open. He took a long look at her, his lips parting slightly. She felt herself getting slicker under his gaze. "Fuck, that's a pretty cunt." Her whole body shivered. No one had ever talked to her like this. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered. "Can I touch you?"
She called on the logical side of her brain to remind her of all the reasons why she should tell him not to. They flashed through her mind like a radio spinning dials. And over it all, another voice screamed at her to give in.
So this was desire. She thought of the painting that marked the entrance to their dormitory. It seemed now, to be prophetic. She was Eve and he was the snake in the garden. Tempting her with sinful pleasure that would damn her forever. And just like Eve, she was about to take a bite.
"Yes," she breathed.
He wasted no time, dragging his hands back up her thighs. One of his thumbs parted her flesh, holding her open to him. The thumb of his other hand brushed across her clit gently, making her muscles lock up in surprise at the sensation. She had never been touched so directly, so accurately by anyone but herself. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. The realization was terrifying. He was going to make a mess of her on this desk.
He groaned as she started to moan. His thumb rubbed circles on her clit as he stared at her face. "There you go. Feels good, doesn't it?" Her cunt spasmed, clenching down on nothing as he teased her. "Come on, Granger. Tell me how good it feels." Broken sounds left her lips as she tried to tell him. Something in her needed to tell him. Needed to do what he asked.
"It feels so good," she whispered raggedly. He groaned again and the sound only ramped up her desire. His thumb kept up its pace, slow and torturous as he stood to be eye level with her. Warmth leaked out of her, onto her thighs and she knew he could feel it.
He dipped his face towards hers, his lips barely brushing hers. His hand grabbed her chin, just like it had the other night and he whispered against her mouth, "This is what I meant when I said it was hell." He kissed her deep before she could ask what he meant, before she could even process the words.
His tongue parted her lips and she moaned into his mouth. She pressed herself harder into his thumb, trying to grind into the motions of his hand. There was a coiling in her core that got tighter with every stroke of his thumb, threatening to break her open. Still, she chased the feeling, whining and panting against his lips. He was going so damn slow. It was torture.
"Mal-Malfoy. More," she slurred, grabbing at the back of his neck with one hand. The circles on her clit stopped and she opened her mouth to protest. But then his palm came down hard on her clit in a vicious smack and she shrieked. The stinging pain shot through her, quickly chased by arousal. Why did that turn her on so much? Every nerve ending in her body stood at attention, both dreading and hoping he would do it again. He held her throat in his hand and pulled back to look at her.
"That's not how this works, Granger. I'm not here to give you what you want. If you ask me nicely…" He broke off to suck at the side of her neck, then pulled back to look at her face. "I might get you off tonight." She whimpered. "But right now, I want to feel your cunt around my fingers."
True to his word, she felt his fingers dip into her wetness. Her legs came up around his waist of their own volition. He let them stay there, leaning in for another open mouthed kiss. His fingers came away from her and her pelvis bucked towards him. He bit her lip in warning and then parted her mouth again, sliding his fingers, covered in her own slick, into the space between their mouths. She felt him suck them, tasting her, before he returned them to her center.
The desk creaked more as she squirmed, seeking more of his touch. Two of his fingers breached her entrance, pushing into her slit. Slowly. So slowly. Her legs shook as she panted for more. "Please. Please. Oh, gods."
"That's it. That's what I wanted to hear." His fingers rocked into her deeper, stretching her swollen cunt. He curled them inside her immediately and she contracted around them with a gasp. "So fucking tight, Granger. I should have fucking known."
His fingers stroked inside her harder as he sucked a path of bruises down her neck to her collar bone. She shook, the hot ache in her core driving her to curl her legs tighter around him. His fingers dragged in and out, over and over in a steady, practiced rhythm. She murmured against his lips, holding onto his shoulders. There was no escaping the pleasure, no way to slow the throbbing ache in her cunt that was reaching a peak that she was completely unprepared for.
And then he hit a spot inside her that made her vision go white for a whole second. She had never felt that before, didn't know she could even feel that way. She lost her breath, her body locking up in his grip. He looked at her with pure arrogance.
"Is that the spot, Granger? Is that how you like it?" She could only nod wordlessly as he stroked it again. Curling his fingers against it mercilessly. Her mouth opened and closed without a sound as she tried to process the way his long, steady fingers rubbed that spot at the front of her pelvis with every inward stroke. She got impossibly wetter, the obscene sound of it bringing a hot flush to her chest.
He dropped his chin to look at his fingers fucking her cunt as she sobbed in pleasure. "You making such a fucking mess, you know that? All over the desk." She whimpered in response, humiliated. He laughed cruelly.
"You've always been so perfect," he snarled. "You have no idea how badly I want to ruin you." He was succeeding. He had effectively reduced her to a shaking, panting, sweating mess on a study desk in the library, her skirt pulled up to her waist, knickers gone. His thumb stroked her jaw from where his hand gripped her chin. Her thigh muscles burned from where they were wrapped around him. There wasn't much more of this she could take.
"Malfoy," she whimpered.
"What, swot?"
"I need, I need to come. Please. It's too much." She sucked in a breath, looking at his face. He hadn't lost even a little of his composure.
"You're lucky, Granger. You're lucky I want to see you come." She shivered in anticipation.
He angled his hand so that his thumb could press into her clit as his fingers moved inside her. It only took seconds for her body to go rigid, the first taste of her orgasm overwhelming her. It was almost too intense. "Malfoy, please," she cried, unsure if she was asking for more or less.
"Come on Granger, come on my fingers. That's it."
She shattered, grasping at his clothes and his shoulders. Her back arched so hard she could almost see the bookshelves behind her. He worked her through her orgasm, his eyes pinned to her, watching every moment of it. Her inner muscles rippled, squeezing his fingers. "Good girl," he groaned as she went limp, her muscles refusing to obey any longer.
She came down slowly as he removed his fingers from inside her. She attempted to catch her breath, but it stuttered out of her as he brought his fingers to his mouth like before, sucking on them. It was so filthy, so intimate, and she couldn't imagine why he would want to taste her like that.
It was hard to meet his eyes as she slid off the desk, fixing her skirt. He gave her space, leaning against the bookcase on the opposite side of the aisle. Her legs wobbled and she had to grab the edge of the desk for balance. He whispered a spell, cleaning her up and her cheeks flamed at the necessity of the charm.
"I think I need to go," she started awkwardly. His head tipped back against the shelves. His face was unreadable. "That was...I didn't plan for that to happen."
He scoffed. "Yeah, I figured."
Now that clarity was setting back in, she realized the gravity of what they had done. She felt ashamed of herself. Like she had betrayed everyone and everything she stood for. How would she face her friends now? How would she face him? He just gave her the best orgasm of her life. The only orgasm she had ever had with another person. The only pleasure she had ever felt with another person. And he likely knew it.
"Look, Malfoy...I don't know what came over me. That was a mistake."
"You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, Granger. I already got what I wanted."
"You wanted to hang this over my head didn't you?" He didn't answer. She shook her head. "You will not tell anyone about this, Malfoy."
"Give me a little more credit. I have a reputation to uphold."
She picked up her wand and grabbed the book on ballroom dancing off the floor, realizing she had knocked it off the desk. She looked around for her knickers until she realized he was twirling them in his hand. "Corrupting the head girl sounds just like something that would fit with your reputation." A laugh bubbled up from her chest and she let it out. "I'm so stupid," she mumbled. She had always thought herself clever and clear headed. But when he looked up at her with those eyes, hands on her body, she lost all rational thought. And now he had this dirt on her. Something to laugh about with his friends.
She stomped towards him with the last of her composure, pointing to the lacy knickers he held in his hand. "Give me those."
"No."
"They're mine, Malfoy. Give them back." She remembered punching him in third year and considered resorting to violence once again.
"I think I earned them. Don't you?" She watched, mouth agape, as he stuffed them into his pocket. She savagely shoved her things into her school bag, including their unfinished project.
"You are a, a-" She gave up, swinging the bag onto her shoulder and stomping past him as he scoffed.
Hermione swung the door to the heads' bathroom shut behind her, leaning against it for a moment to gather her bearings. She had left him in the library, standing in the pool of light from her candelabra, watching her go. The past hour didn't even feel real.
She stepped into the shower before it had the chance to warm up, still trying to figure out what she was going to do about this development. There was no way to look at Malfoy without remembering this night. Without remembering the way he had so quickly and thoroughly turned her into putty in his hands. He had been authoritative, demanding, kind of mean and she liked it. She didn't know she wanted it that way until it started happening and now she knew there was no way she could ever be satisfied by mediocre sex with nice boys. Once you bit the apple, there was no going back. He corrupted her, body and mind.
Losing her virginity to Vikter Krum was nothing special, but she knew not to expect a lot for her first time. Even though she hadn't typically been included in them, the conversations she had overheard in the girls' dormitory had prepared her for that. She knew what happed to her during the war was not sex, but violence. And her times with Ron were beginning to look even paler in comparison to the acts that Malfoy had performed on her. She had no idea her body could feel that way. Could respond so readily or come so hard. She hadn't thought that those kinds of things were for her. She was bookish and socially awkward, a good girl who followed the rules. Unpracticed in the art of seduction. She had never tasted the knife's edge of desire until he had leaned back and commanded her to bare herself to him, promising sensations that felt too good to be real.
He had told her that he got what he wanted. She knew what he was talking about. He wanted her to know just how perverted she liked it. He got high on that control he exerted, on wrecking her. Wanted to be the one to make her beg him to let her come. In public no less. She nearly clapped her hand over mouth thinking about how someone could have caught them. What if Madam Pince returned because she forgot something or if a student had also been out past curfew like the two of them? What would she have said to Filch if had caught her with her skirt up, being fingerfucked by Malfoy for Merlin's sake? And what if Malfoy told someone? There was no way he wouldn't be happy to gloat over this to his vile Slytherin friends.
She was the suds out of her hair and grabbed a towel to dry off, coming to the awful conclusion that there was nothing to be done. She would just have to wait for the other shoe to drop.