Decided to throw all my Hermione-centric drabbles in one place. Unlike "Completion," these are all actually done. Some are open-ended, some have a clear finish, all are taking up space on my Drive.
Nothing here is Brit-picked or beta-read, so if you find an error, please let me know. If you have requests, they can be sent as a private message or requested on my ForsakenKalika facebook page.
Standard disclaimer applies. Warnings/ratings per chapter.
Laundry Day - Dramione, M-rated for language/content
"Jesus Christ, does this kid wear every single thing he owns in a day?" Hermione griped, lugging a cloth laundry hamper onto the stoop at Grimmauld to go to the local coin wash. 'On her only day off from either classes or work,' she sighed irritably, tucking her hair behind her ear and concentrating on not breaking the key off in the door. 'Or both.'
"Talking to oneself is generally a sign of insanity, Granger," a deep voice rumbled behind her, and she jumped with a shriek - "Morgana's mooseknuckle!" Whirling around for the source of the hysterical laughter and initial fright, Hermione spotted one Draco Lucius Malfoy leaning against the iron handrails clutching his stomach and shaking.
Huffing, she flew to action collecting the erstwhile laundry, thrown about by her scare. Trust the git to laugh at her instead of being a gentleman and apologizing, or -
"Don't forget these, Granger." Finally having gained control of himself, Malfoy had spotted a bundle of fabric tucked beneath the edge of the cloth container. In her mood, she'd probably have missed it completely. It was only upon picking them up that he realized they were a pair of lacy grey knickers. Granger's lacy grey knickers. Well now. He dangled them from his index finger, letting them dangle lewdly before her eyes.
She snatched them off his digit and shoved them deep within the bag, fighting a cringe when her fingers slipped against the still-moist remnants of Teddy's teething biscuit. At least, she hoped. Surreptitiously, Hermione wiped her fingers off on another piece of clothing before calmly withdrawing her arm.
Shoving past him, Hermione started walking down the steps, throwing over her shoulder, "Harry's not home, Malfoy. He and Teddy are at Andy's for the day to visit with your mum." Maybe he'd leave if she got far enough away, Hermione considered, her steps speeding up slightly. It was a lost cause when she heard him jog up behind her.
"I have to admit, I'm a bit disappointed," Draco started, falling into step beside her and taking the laundry bag from her hands to carry it.
"Oh?" She asked drily. Colour her shocked.
"I had hoped you would be in them, the first time I saw your knickers." What. In her head, everything stopped. No whirring background processes, no lingering academic curiosities. Nothing. And then it rebooted.
"Oh?" Hermione repeated faintly, face bright red while she buffered and reminded herself that he was probably just having her on. That was it. Draco had made a nuisance of himself since becoming Harry's training partner, taking great pleasure in getting a reaction from her, Harry's roommate, in any way he could. Lately, his attempts had been more, ahem, risqué.
Up ahead, the coin wash came into view, eliciting an inward sigh of relief. Salvation was but steps away. Overconfident, she tossed a smart comment back when she reached for the door handle. "Think about my knickers often, then?"
Heat overtook her, starting at her back, Malfoy's larger frame gently pressed just so. A strong hand curled over her own on the metal bar of the handle. His lips grazed her ear while he opened the door, still trapping her hand beneath his. "You and your knickers are my favourite things to think about."
Hermione shivered, her eyes half-lidded of their own accord, allowing a smirking Malfoy to sidle past her and through the door with the hamper. She wasn't so sure he was having her on at all now. If the half-hard bulge which had pressed against the cheek of her arse was any indication. Letting the door close behind her, Hermione followed the blond, ignoring the fluttering she felt low in her abdomen at the sight of a dressed-down Draco Malfoy doing something domestic.
It was just oddly hot. More attractive still was the wicked shine to his eyes in the reflection of the washroom mirror while he pounded her from behind between wash cycles. Maybe it was that last orgasm, Hermione considered as she watched Malfoy stack the folded clothes neatly back into a scourgified laundry hamper, but she could stand a few more laundry days with Draco Malfoy.