Author's Note: This chapter is explicit and was last updated on 12/12/2021. Thank you to my beta Intricate_Iris for your input on this chapter
Saturday found Hermione and Draco perched in silence on opposite ends of her dormitory, with the Felix Felicis potion interjecting sizzling, bubbling pops into the room's broody atmosphere from its stationary location on the corner of her desk. The potion's color had transformed from a majestic shade of purple into a hazy film of seafoam grey, and Hermione thought with dour observation that the somber shade rather complemented the stifling atmosphere in her room.
She glanced up at Draco from her position on the worn carpet, where she laid on her belly with her elbows propped and her delicate chin resting in a heavy block on her fists. She'd worn trousers today and a simple white sweater, and she felt at complete ease and comfort as she laid in a sprawled-out heap on the floor, with her transfiguration text open and askew at her side and her ankles crossed in the air behind her rump. The little toad that she'd borrowed for wordless transformation spells blinked in rapid repetition as her concentration was broken by a loud bubbling pop. She granted the toad reprieve to hop around on her carpet while she examined her off-limits counterpart from his position on the couch.
Draco had toed off his shiny black dress shoes into a neat line on the carpet and was sitting with both black trousered legs stretched out on the cushions, his usual rigid posture curved into a comfortable, languid position in his grey sweater against the pillows and armrest. An essay laid forgotten on his athletic abdomen, which was no doubt sore from the strenuous muscle involvement that it took to keep him right-side-up on his broom the afternoon before. Slytherin and Gryffindor had played their first match of the quidditch season on Friday afternoon. And naturally, Harry's preternatural flying had out-maneuvered Draco's with ease in the air on their hunt for the golden snitch, ending the game in what could be considered a near clean sheet as both teams' keepers had played at their best.
Draco, for his part, had shaken Harry's hand afterward as he always had, with a little too much force and with a glowering expression on his face that spoke of murder.
"I'll never tire of kicking his arse," Harry announced with a laugh over the riotous celebration in the Gryffindor Common Room, a plate of frosted lemon cake held in a precarious topple on the plate in his hands as his teammates bumped shoulders next to him on the couch, jeering in agreement.
Hermione dusted herself off of the floor and checked for the little toad, who was hopping in a jaunty trail after a tiny beetle bug in the corner. She tugged at the hem of her sweater, which had caught above the waist of her trousers, and turned to walk towards her ancient wooden door.
"I'm going to grab a slice of cake," she announced to Draco as she passed him on the couch, raising her brow at him as he acknowledged her interruption to his brooding reverie, "Would you like a slice?"
He shrugged a tired shoulder and turned his stoic expression towards her. "Only if it doesn't have my face on it. I know what your lot has done in the past," he replied with shrewd punch, referring to the time that Seamus had floated a cake through the halls with an ill-drawn figure of Draco etched into the frosting – falling off of his broom, of course, as he had done in the match.
Slytherin Sucks had been written in angry streaks of bloodred liquid sugar beneath the broken candy broomstick. The cake was met with mixed reception from the student body, and Professor McGonagall had subtracted House Points for Gryffindor's poor sportsmanship.
"I'll check," Hermione replied with careful indifference, returning a few moments later with two generous slices heaped on their sides on porcelain plates. She handed Draco the cake, and he balanced the plate on his long torso, picking at the lemon frosting and scooping up a large dab of sugar with his fork. She sat in the armchair as she watched him examine the fluffy yellow lump of sugar before popping it into his mouth, his face relaxing and his heather eyes closing in pleasure as he swallowed.
"Thank you," he murmured, finishing the slice and standing up to set his plate on the desk. She cleared away their dishes and returned to her place on the carpet, settling down to her belly and calling over the toad with a wordless spell. The toad perched in a dutiful position in front of her elbows, its amphibian eyes blinking in slow repetition under ensorcellment, while she squinted her toffee-eyes in concentration. A few moments later, the toad bellowed out a near-perfect brass rendition of Yellow Submarine's unnaturally happy chorus, and Draco startled and scoffed on the couch at the unexpected interruption.
"What the bloody hell was that?" He laughed with an incredulous quirk of his blond brow, propping himself up on the armrest to get a better look at the toad.
"It's a song," she smiled, flicking her eyes to him and examining his bewildered expression as her eyes softened. She watched as Draco's lips relaxed into a satisfied smirk, his coming comment interrupted by a shower of golden sparks that signaled the potion's need for attention. He rose to take his turn at the cauldron and stepped over her legs on the floor with ease. Hermione bristled at his proximity and pushed herself into a sitting position, calling the toad to return with a wordless spell and interrupting its hopping escape.
She rubbed its little head and murmured quiet apologies, her voice muffled by the searing hisses emitting from the cauldron while Draco worked. She was exercising an exceedingly painful amount of caution with this spell, as she had read what could happen if one rushed through the magic before they were ready to wield it in its entirety on a living creature - and she didn't want her carpet covered in amphibian guts, thank you very much.
Draco returned to the couch a few minutes later, humming the Beatles tune that the toad had just sung, and Hermione froze as she watched him sink with languid carelessness into the fluffy cushions, his ankle crossing over his knee in a relaxed position with his curious expression locked on the little toad.
He's humming a Beatles song, she thought with mystification, and surely enough, he was still making music; his low, masculine hum a welcome interruption to her sensitive ears.
"Maybe you should show him more things from home," came Ginny's gentle suggestion, and she gathered the toad with an abrupt sweep of her hands, announcing that she was returning the little creature to the classroom. When Hermione returned to her dormitory a few moments later, she walked with quick purpose to her lavatory to wash her hands of the toad's filth, and then stared at her anxious reflection in the mirror for several moments, an internal debate thrumming hot and heavy in her mind as she narrowed her eyes at the witch frowning back.
It isn't my job to educate Malfoy, she argued with herself while she pursed her full lips in thought.
But, her mirror's reflection reasoned with an arch of a dark brow, if he happened to foster an appreciation for muggle culture, would it really be such a detriment?
Think of the influence that he possesses, she pepped to herself, nodding at her mirror and shifting her curly mane behind her shoulders. A pureblood, affluent wizard with a soft spot for non-magical culture would surely draw curiosity from other narrow-minded individuals. She thought of the Rubik's Cube and its inconceivable passage from Slytherin hand to Slytherin hand in the Great Hall, and her lips relaxed into a satisfied smile as she settled her closing argument.
I can handle Malfoy.
She returned to her bedroom with a newfound purpose in her step and unbuckled the bronze clasp of her weathered trunk, digging her hands through her trinkets and garments with an abundance of noisy clatter until she came to a portable CD player: a Discman that she'd been gifted from her parents, and a long black sleeve of CDs that she'd purchased over the years. She stared at the items in her hands for several moments before the delicate column of her throat bobbed in a swallow, and she gathered her courage as shut her trunk with a thunk, walking to the couch with her stomach tingling in anticipation and dropping her hips in a graceless plop onto the cushion next to Draco. He sucked in a startled breath at her unexpected intrusion, the sofa sinking and pulling their hips closer together as their cheeks flushed with color. Neither resisted gravity's inevitable pull, and they remained where they sat – nearly touching, with their bodies thrumming in nervous energy.
"It's a muggle music player. It's called a Discman," Hermione enunciated with faux collectiveness, trying to hold his gaze with more bravado than she felt as she held up the Discman for his inspection, her legs tense as she tried not to touch his knee. Of course, his scent was overwhelming and intoxicating from this proximity, but she bit her cheek as she ignored her craving to indulge, her heart hammering in her breast as his eyes searched her face in confusion. Draco furrowed his blond brows at the black plastic case in her hands and at the corded headphones that dangled in a haphazard tangle from the side, and cut his bewildered expression back to Hermione's eager one. He said nothing while her dark brows rose into her hairline at his silence, his cheeks tinting with pink.
"And these are headphones," she continued with urgency, holding up the black plastic headband with its soft cushioned foam covers at the tips. "You place a musical disc into the player, and the song is heard through the foam," she explained, shaking the headband at him with a gentle flick of her wrist as he sat in stunned silence, "Here, try it on."
Draco shook his head at her as his lips tugged into an uncertain frown, "I'm not listening to muggle music, Granger," he argued, his lithe arms folding across his chest as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the black sleeve of CDs on her lap.
Hermione had planned for this reaction and shrugged one dainty shoulder as she pursed her pouty lips at him, pressing her finger on the button to activate the plastic top of the Discman to Draco's reluctant, growing interest. She flipped through her alphabetized sleeve of CDs until she came to the B's and slid the round reflective disc out of the transparent sleeve with careful fingers. Draco watched with a studied expression as she slipped the disc around the plastic knob and shut the cover with a gentle pop. She placed the headphones around her neck, the band resting against her narrow shoulders, and turned the volume knob to where it was loud enough for him to hear, finally sucking in her breath as she closed her eyes and hit Play. She bit her lip in anticipation as Ringo Starr's low register echoed from the foam tips of the headband, filling the space of her room and overpowering the gentle bubbling noises from the cauldron.
She clasped her hands in a tight hold on her lap, her eyes still closed, as she squeezed her fingers together at the knuckles, her stomach aflutter with nerves as the rest of the Beatles joined in for the chorus. When the song came to an end after a long, agonizing two and a half minutes, she pushed her thumb over the Play button to pause the next track and turned her cheek to study Draco. She found him sitting with his spine pulled taut in a rigid line, and his hands clenched into balled fists on his knees. His handsome face was contorted into a furrowed grimace, and he held his eyes shut in a tight squeeze. He opened one heather eye and glared at Hermione's anxious expression before he loosened his breath, relaxed his shoulders and hands, and rubbed at his temples in concentration.
"What the fuck is a submarine?" Came his tired, frustrated question, breaking the tense silence.
And so began Draco Malfoy's education into muggle music.
The rest of the afternoon passed in tentative, exploratory anticipation and excitement, with Hermione switching out discs between brewing at the cauldron and Draco thumbing through the paper jackets and reading the album titles aloud, his drawling commentary lilting over the music on occasion when she played songs that he liked, and his laughing scoff warming her ears when she played ones that he didn't. Familiarity with one another's proximity transformed into an addictive habit as they sat on the sofa with their knees knocking together, bantering over songs.
"Were they on mind-altering substances?" Draco asked with serious affront, holding up the cartoon album pamphlet for Yellow Submarine for her inspection, his pale brows pulling towards his hairline as he read over the lyrics inside, and Hermione snorted as she nodded her head in agreement, her hair tickling his arm as her warm breath fanned against his jaw in reply.
"Almost certainly. It was the 1960s, after all. The height of the psychedelic and hallucinogenic era."
Draco frowned at her blasé comment as he slipped the paper back into the sleeve and reached for the next one in the alphabet. When the evening hour came, and the last shower of golden sparks erupted from the tips of their wands, Hermione was pleased that they'd found one album that he'd deemed acceptable, which was Rumors by Fleetwood Mac. Draco bounced his foot over his knee as the familiar bass drum from the song Dreams thumped into the dormitory, his hum involuntary in his throat as Stevie Nick's breathy vocals layered over the track, thrumming in his ears as his fingers tapped on the cushion in time with the haunting melody. Hermione absorbed his relaxed expression and obvious pleasure with one of her favorite songs, and she was overcome with the urge to show him how much she liked it by singing along.
She debated the best moment to showcase her talent, as singing felt somewhat intimate and awkward in her head now… but she swallowed her nerves and surrendered her resistance on the second chorus, belting out the lyrics in her lilting soprano and surprising Draco as he whipped his cheek to the side, his eyes narrowing and his mouth cracking into a smile with teeth as Hermione sang every word until the end.
"Not bad, Granger," he smirked with quiet approval as the music faded into silence, his cheeks tinting with pink as he pushed off of the sofa.
"And you haven't even heard the best song yet," she enthused as she blushed with pleasure at his compliment. He dusted off his trousers and removed the plastic headband from his ears. He wrapped the cord in a loose circle around the case and placed the Discman with care onto the center of her nightstand, and Hermione tried not to ogle his fit backside as he straightened his posture.
"Next time," Draco smirked as his eyes softened at her expression, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and rocking on his heels. She nodded as he turned to leave, the quiet crack of the ancient wooden door interrupting the erratic patter of her fluttering heart.
When she laid in bed later that evening, with the moonlight's glow slanting through the panes of her window in ethereal slits, she thought of Draco sitting on her sofa, with his pale hair covered by the black band of her muggle headphones. She sighed and imagined his relaxed expression as he sat at her side, and she fell asleep to the image.
The following Saturday came with quick repetition, and Hermione was eager to return to her quarters to resume her lessons with Draco. When they climbed the winding staircase in a single file and entered her room, a brown barn owl was perched on the outer stone ledge of her solitary window, his little claw tapping with urgency on the glass, and she moved with haste to unfasten the lever to allow it inside.
Her mother had finally written her back, and Hermione was perplexed that it had taken this long, as Jean Granger was a quick pen-pal. She tore open the scroll and read with speed as Draco ministered to their potion.
Hermione, Darling,
I am so pleased to read about your book club adventure, and I am so proud of you for introducing muggle culture to your wizarding peers. No doubt it is not an easy feat, as you've told us in the past, but you are a brave and pragmatic young lady, and I have complete confidence in your ability to do anything. You are a Granger, after all. With that said, I've reviewed your request and have spoken with your father, and we both agree that the novels that you've chosen are a little… I don't know, sweetheart, perhaps "heavy" is the correct word? Wouldn't you agree that your friends would rather read about sweeping fantasy stories, epic adventures, or perhaps even romantic tales? Undoubtedly, while wars, famine, and disease are, of course, serious and pertinent subjects, your father and I both feel that maybe dipping their toes into the non-magical world might be an easier transition for winning favor. I'm afraid you'll have to trust our wisdom on this matter, darling, which feels silly to write, as you are undoubtedly the authority on muggle and magical matters.
But, nonetheless, we are your parents.
With love,
Mum and Dad
P.S. You've taken a hefty collection of your novels from your bedroom at home. I'm sure that your friends would love to read them.
Hermione re-read the letter twice and scoffed her disbelief at her predicament, flipping the parchment to the back to check for a hidden I'm not serious, darling - an army of owls are flying in your books, and squeezing her eyes shut as she found it blank.
"Seriously?" She muttered as she folded the parchment and stomped to her desk next to Draco, yanking open a drawer with a rough clatter and stuffing the letter inside. Draco glanced down at her noisy interruption and flattened his lips.
"Bad news, Granger?" He drawled in a light pitch, his wand-work impeccable as the cauldron hissed with happy pops of bubbles below his ministrations. The potion was transitioning into a yellowish-grey color, which would last for the next several months until the liquid shifted into its final shimmering golden hue.
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the drab yellow concoction and folded her arms over her bosom, leaning her hip against the desk at his side.
"Yes," she huffed, rolling her eyes towards the rafters, "My parents disagree with my itinerary for the book club. They've asked me to use my personal collection instead."
Draco snorted and cut his eyes to her from the side, "And will you?" He asked with humor, a smile curling on his lips. "Is that even allowed? All of your books are obviously naughty," he chuckled, the masculine sound thrumming through her abdomen with pleasure. Hermione swallowed and blushed as she retorted, "They are not all romantic, Malfoy. Some are academic. Others are fantasy," she defended, biting her full lip as her eyes flicked to her overstuffed bookshelf.
Alright, so maybe her collection was predominantly intimate in nature, but was that really unexpected? She was a young woman, after all, and curious about the workings of interpersonal romantic relationships.
"Remind me again of your book club's name," Draco teased from over his shoulder as Hermione sank into an irritated heap on her couch.
"No," she affirmed to his back, her lips flattening as his athletic shoulders shook in a silent chuckle.
He joined her moments later, sinking his fit haunches onto the neighboring cushion and letting the pull of gravity overtake him, his muscular thigh resting in a heavy, comfortable weight against her own as he stretched out. He reached for the Discman and held it in his lap for several moments, fiddling with the cord in his fingers as he studied her profile.
"Why did you choose the Helios Elixir?" He asked, bumping his thigh against her leg with his question. Hermione flushed at the pleasant contact of his leg against her stockings and felt a fuzzy, tingling eruption in her abdomen as she turned her head and inhaled Draco's heady scent. She considered scooting away on the cushions and placing distance between them, but decided that indulging in the bit of flirtation that had become habit was undoubtedly harmless. It would never lead anywhere, she reminded herself as she bit her lip and pondered her response to his question. She was distracted with her answer as the urge to push their teasing a little bit further settled with finality in her chest.
"It doesn't work as well as it could," Hermione answered with careful neutrality as she cleared her throat and crossed her legs at her knees. Draco folded his arms over his chest and turned his torso to lean closer, his warm, minty breath fanning in distraction against her blushing cheek as she swallowed her resolve.
"How do you mean?"
"Well," she started in a steadying tone, trying to refocus her short-circuiting brain and gesturing towards his sweater-covered arms as she enacted her plan under a guise, "Roll up your shirtsleeves."
"What?"
"Roll up your sleeves, Malfoy, and I'll show you what I mean."
Draco gave her an odd look as he obliged her command, rolling up his shirtsleeves and exposing his muscled forearms that were smattered in a light dusting of pale brown freckles and translucent hair. He didn't have as many sunspots or freckles as Ron or Ginny, who were covered from head to toe, or even as many as Harry, who was notoriously awful at reapplying sun cream or redosing himself with elixir. She imagined that Draco preferred to wear long sleeves when he was outside, aside from his fair-weather quidditch uniform, and she bit her cheek as she speculated that he may be rather sensitive to the touch of her fingers on his bare flesh.
"The Helios Elixir works similarly to muggle sun cream," Hermione began as she studied Draco's forearms with her eyes, her tentative fingertips ghosting along the warm skin of his left side without his permission, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in her wake. She refused to meet his stare as she tapped her fingers on his freckles, tracing constellations as he shivered and brushing her thumb over his small moles, her voice humming in thought as his breathing turned ragged.
Hermione's heart pulsed with excitement as Draco didn't stop her teasing touch, and she struggled to maintain her faux composure as she continued her assessment on his other arm. She turned Draco's palm so that the underside of his wrist lay facing up, and rubbed her thumb across his veins, his radial pulse bounding as she traced his namesake band of stars into his skin with her nails. Hermione swallowed, her voice weak with distraction as she recited, "It blocks a specific type of ultraviolet radiation very well, but provides only fair protection against a second type of ultraviolet radiation. The short answer is that you're still suffering the effects of sun exposure, as evidenced by your freckles, and I think that it can be improved."
With her cheeks ablaze, Hermione bit her lip as her fingers fumbled over the fabric of Draco's shirtsleeves, rolling down the cuff on each side as if she had only been demonstrating for the sake of his knowledge. She threaded his buttons into the material as Draco sat in stunned silence, his hooded eyes dipping to her mouth as she leaned back in her seat. His fingers twitched on his lap as if he wanted to pull her onto him, and she released a breathy, shy laugh as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Draco ground his jaw to the side as Hermione tilted her head in innocence, her eyes glinting while his narrowed and seared. His voice was strained as he studied her expression and asked, "And you think… that you can fix it?"
Hermione nodded as she took a steadying breath, "Yes, I think that I can," she replied as she regained her composure, examining his taut face as he absorbed her words, "And I think that your mother would have addressed it, had she stayed in potioneering," she amended in haste, not sure if he was actually listening as his eyes had shifted into a faraway, glassy gaze. She'd deduced that family was a sensitive topic for Draco, and thus Hermione tread with care as she discussed his mother's legacy. Although it was clear from Narcissa's published research that there was a pathway forward, and Hermione hardly felt like she was discovering anything groundbreaking. Draco nodded his head at her, his eyes somewhat sharpening as he cleared his throat. They sat in silence for a moment as Hermione studied his knees in thought, wondering if she'd pushed him too far.
"And what are you going to improve?" She asked with curiosity as she remembered that he hadn't answered her in class. Draco smirked as he appeared to snap out of thought, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and digging his hand into his trouser pocket to retrieve a caramel candy. He held it out to her with his fingers, and she snatched the golden sweet, unwrapping the crinkling package and popping the bomb of sugar into her mouth.
"I'm going to make it taste like that," he answered with smug satisfaction, his lips quirking at the corners as she grinned at him in approval.
"An excellent improvement," Hermione agreed, relaxing into the cushion of the couch. Draco's thigh remained in a firm lock against her own as he unwound the headphone cord and slipped the headband over his neck and shoulders, turning up the volume to a level that she could hear. Their wands erupted, and Hermione rose with reluctance as she extricated herself from her comfy position to attend to the potion, returning a few minutes later to ease her body into the same dip of cushion and swallowing as she took her teasing a step further. She allowed her full weight to settle against Draco's side as she brushed her brazen foot up his calf as if by accident, and she was thrilled when he pretended like her fondling touch was normal, his only tell a matching blush as he refused to acknowledge her transgression out loud – out of nerves or resolve, she wasn't sure.
"You can put the headphones on," Hermione instructed with quiet permission as her skin broke into tingles of gooseflesh. She summoned her transfiguration text to study and buried her nose in a chapter while she pretended to ignore him, maintaining perfect awareness of his jerky movements as he sat in silence for a moment, his warm body snug against her own as he caught his breath. Draco turned down the volume on the Discman and slipped the foam coverings over his ears as he thumbed through the rest of the CD sleeves. He listened to Rumors twice while he studied his herbology textbook, the spine flat against his lap in a way that couldn't be comfortable for him to read the tiny print, and Hermione bit her lip with nervous energy as he gave up and thumbed through the CD jackets again. He came to the J's and extracted Evolution by Journey from its sleeve with careful precision, and Hermione sucked in an excited puff of air.
"It's my favorite album," she interrupted, her thigh flexing against his leg as she tensed and released with anticipation. Draco's cheeks ignited in color as he huffed out a small, pleasant chuckle at her excitement, his fingers placing the CD in the Discman as his nostrils flared. His bicep pressed flush against hers as he leaned back into the cushions, and his book slid off of his lap as he adjusted his weight on the sofa, his obvious erection tenting his trousers in a tall peak as he slid his text back into place, refusing to meet her eyes as he fumbled with the Discman.
"Track number three is my favorite song," Hermione gasped with an uptake of his heady male scent, her body vibrating from her cunt to her nipples as she basked in the knowledge of his arousal. Draco cleared his throat as he draped his right arm around her shoulders in a clear message, his fingers curling into her side as he squeezed, and Hermione inhaled with pleasure as she leaned into his torso, deciding that oh yes, he'd enjoyed her teasing very much.
She watched as Draco clicked the Forward button twice with his shaking thumb. He leaned his head against the sofa cushion as his eyes squeezed shut, his moonlight hair disrupting into messy locks over his forehead. He released her side with a shaking hand and flattened his nervous palm against the back of the couch as his fingers thrummed with agitation, and she resisted the urge to push his hair out of his face as she studied his white lashes and chiseled jaw. His breathing turned ragged as the beat played, and Hermione's heart stuttered in her breast as Draco squeezed his fist on his thigh, his faint blue veins bulging under his porcelain skin.
Hermione's thighs clenched with want as she tried not to tremble. They were sitting too close and touching too much to pretend anymore that this was a game, and she knew that when the song finished – she would be ruined. Dozens of hours of uninterrupted time spent in Draco's company had led to this moment, and Hermione swallowed as she waited with fervent anticipation, careful not to rush him.
When the minutes passed and Draco removed the headphones from his ears, his hooded, dilated pupils locked onto hers as his mouth parted in a huff of warm air. His breathing turned ragged and his expression was earnest, and Hermione lost her breath as she examined his face, and then summarily lost her mind.
"Did you like it?" She sighed, rapt for his answer.
"Yeah, Granger," Draco rasped, his gruff voice shooting hot tingles of pleasure through Hermione's abdomen and cunt as he gripped her knee in his unsteady palm, "I fucking liked it."
She flushed with such warmth that she thought she would combust into flames, and her body felt so pliant and was humming with such urgency that she couldn't have stopped what happened next if she had tried.
They leaned towards one another as if drawn by magnets or magic, Hermione's eyes flicking with nervous excitement to Draco's lips, and she sucked in her breath as he smoldered down at her, his frowning mouth uncertain but his arousal and interest evident in the hooded silver pools of his eyes. She covered his hand on her knee with her palm, rubbing her thumb back and forth in encouragement across his flesh as he lingered with indecision. He paused for only a moment as his eyes raked her torrid expression before he growled and erupted into motion as he made his choice.
In a flash of movement, Hermione was pinned against the bottom cushions of the couch and Draco's heavy weight was settled on top of her, his pelvis planted in a snug fit against her hips and his hard, warm erection throbbing through his trousers into the seamed cleft of her stocking and knicker covered cunt. Her flimsy black skirt provided zero resistance to his intrusion as the fabric bunched in a useless pool around the top of her hips, and she clenched her cunt as his erection jerked with an involuntary flex against her clit.
Oh my God, Hermione breathed, sucking in a ragged gasp of air as Draco's hooded eyes searched her expression for consent, and she nodded her head in vigorous acceptance as his warm minty breath panted against her face.
"I can't fucking take it anymore," Draco rasped, dipping his jaw to cover her lips in a firm and clumsy kiss of teeth and desire, his breath gasping into her mouth. Hermione moaned as she threw her arms around his powerful shoulders, her throaty thrum of pleasure vibrating against him as she ground her aching hips in a clumsy swivel against his hot erection, causing him to shudder above her and bite a sharp warning at her full bottom lip.
"Don't," Draco snapped in a ragged gruff, stilling her gyrations with a firm answering pressure and a tap of his hand on her thigh. He slowed down their clumsy kiss to languid pecks as he struggled to collect his breath, his low, unexpected chuckle tickling her lips. "I'm going to fucking spend in my pants," he growled, tracing her swollen bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and panting with want against her jaw. Hermione clenched her cunt underneath him and shook her head from his kiss, cinching her thighs in a snug hold around his hips and locking her ankles behind his powerful back as he gasped. She dragged her lips to the outer shell of his ear, her breathy moan igniting against his tender flesh as her wet tongue licked at his sensitive skin. Draco shuddered as he soaked in the sensations, his eyes unfocused against her neck and his heavy cock throbbing against his abdomen.
"Then do it," Hermione challenged, wiggling her hips along the firm bulge in his trousers and releasing another breathy moan as the intensity of the friction sent electric pulses through her clit. Draco groaned into her neck as he bit and sucked at her tender flesh, leaving his bruising marks on her skin as his hips jerked his erection against her covered cunt, his thick shaft pressing between her labia and stroking against her clit as she gasped with her pleasure. They didn't even last a minute before Hermione's cunt pulsed with her orgasm, her abdominal wall clenching and her thighs contracting in a jerky grip around Draco's hips as her arse shook, and she threw her head back against the cushion in a silent scream. Draco covered Hermione's mouth with his lips as he shuddered his release above her, his spent groans swallowed by her gasps as she brushed her languid lips back and forth across his parted mouth.
"Oh my God," Hermione breathed while her body spasmed with lazy contractions, her flesh tender and bruised from Draco's sucking mouth and jerking hips. His sticky face was buried in her hair, and his heavy torso was crushed against her chest, and she tapped at his bicep and pushed against him to release the squeezing pressure. Draco lifted onto his elbows as he remembered his weight and stared down at her as a perplexed expression settled on his flushed face, his eyes returning to focus.
"Fuck," Draco muttered at last, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against her shoulder as he inhaled, his face hidden in her bulky sweater. "Fuck," he repeated with a muffled, ragged exhale, and Hermione pat at his back with a reassuring hand as the reality of what transpired overtook her.