September 13, 1996

Hermione gasped, but he filled the space between her lips with his own. And then his hands were on her bare back and her hips and her ass— everywhere, all at once. Her own hands moved on their own accord, grasping at his back, his chest, his stomach. Malfoy wasn't careful or calm as he groped her, but neither was she. She scratched at him, clawed at him— touched his lips, his neck. He gripped her hips tightly and bit at her skin. He slowed only to shrug off his shirt. Hermione felt a new wave of courage as she reached to unbuckle his belt before she could second guess herself. He smirked at her.

"Eager, I see."

"You want me to change my mind, Malfoy?"

"Fuck. No." He growled and helped her undo his trousers.

"No wandless magic this time?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow, trying to distract from the fact that she had now become increasingly less confident. Once the pants were gone... what was she supposed to do next? She thought of a million things but none felt quite right in the presence of Draco Malfoy.

"What's the fun in that Granger? You said you liked manual labor."

She let out a genuine laugh, less nervous now than before, but as soon as he slid the trousers down, the confidence dissipated. He snapped and the trousers disappeared entirely. She wondered where their clothes had gone as she tried not to shift her gaze lower.

Krum had led the way— had held her hand to guide her, but it seemed that was not Draco's intention. Which was odd, to say the least, because she'd always thought of him as a head pusher. Not that she thought of blowing him, ever. That would be absurd.

Malfoy palmed her breasts through her bra. She sighed. God, that felt good.

The reality of what she was about to do dawned on her. What was she even about to do? He'd probably had ten women before her, how could she possibly compare? Did she even want to compare? Did Draco Malfoy deserve a good fuck? She could— in theory— use him like a toy— use his experience to get herself off and do nothing in return. But would he get enjoyment from a bad shag? Did he have one of those virginity kinks? Was that why he was here now, and not with Pansy Parkinson, or Daphne Greengrass—

"Granger," Draco grabbed her chin and jerked it upwards to face him. He was irritated, somehow. "You are not going to stand here in front of me and think about me shagging other witches."

Legilimency.

How did Draco Malfoy know Legilimency? And how in God's name was he reading her mind right now? Had he been in her head the whole time? Wandless magic and now the power to read minds at will—

Before she could finish the thought he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. "If you're going to keep running that strange brain of yours," he huffed and she felt him begin to walk. "You're never going to enjoy this."

She opened her mouth.

"Don't."

"Get the fuck out of my head, Malfoy." She slammed her fists against his chiseled back. He didn't stop walking to wherever he felt the need to take her. "Put me down!"

"Okay."

And then he threw her on one of the elves' counters— the impact was startling. Hermione yelped. She tried to clear her mind, but the way he was looking at her fueled the fire inside. Hunger; need. No one had ever looked at her—

"Again." He groaned. "Shut. Up."

That sound— guttural, from the back of his throat— sounded like Lupin had when he changed— animalistic—

"Shut." He pushed on her chest until she was laying flat across the marble counter. "Up."

Hermione kicked her feet at him but he only grabbed them, grip firm on her ankles as he pried them apart. Then he yanked her forward until she could feel his skin through the fabric of her underwear. The blue cotton was undoubtedly drenched, she could feel the moisture dripping down her thighs already. She blushed a scarlet red. Could he—

"Yes Granger, I can feel your cunt. That typically happens when a man and a woman—"

"Not always a man and a woman, Malfoy." She blurted, kicking herself for being so awkward. It wasn't as if she was brand new to this. The only difference now was who she was doing this with.

"Out of all the things to say when I am seconds away from shagging your bloody brains out, you chose that." He scoffed. She shrugged to apologize but he stopped her again. Right, no apologies. He said nothing as he gripped her ass cheeks and lead her in a circular motion. Her core throbbed as it dragged against his stomach; the definition of his abs built valleys and mountains for her to ride.

"I suppose I haven't provided a distraction grand enough to keep you focused. My apologies, Granger." He remarked. "Though your muggle undergarments are already ruined."

Hermione could only groan in response; the friction he'd created felt heavenly. His fingerprints would surely leave bruises on her sides from the way he was holding her, but she didn't care– not now. She started to move with him, rolling her hips slightly at first, and then quicker— quicker.

He waited for her to find a steady pace before he removed one hand from her waist— still holding her tightly with the other. Her mind raced with a thousand possibilities, but he only chose one– or perhaps he concocted the idea all on his own. He traced his fingers across her stomach so lightly it felt like a whisper rather than a touch.

"Malfoy," she let out a sound halfway between a moan and a giggle.

His hand stilled, but there was a devilish glint in his eye that Hermione would have never imagined seeing on the great and noble Malfoy heir. "Ticklish?"

"Don't you dare." Hermione warned.

"You're no fun." He practically pouted.

Didn't know fun was in your vocabulary, arrogant—

"You can tell me to stop whenever." His hand was brushing against her boy shorts now, tracing tiny circles above her heat. His fingers trailed lower– lower– and then up again.

Dear God that drove her crazy, whatever he was doing. She instinctively tightened her legs around his waist, pulling his hand closer. She could only catch a glimpse of him before she threw her head back. He had been grinning. She would never tell him to stop, and he knew it.

"They won't teach you this in Hogwarts: A History, Granger; feel free to take notes," he winked and— while maintaining perfect eye contact, he snapped.

She was nude.

He had dipped a finger inside her before she could react. She browsed through every word she had ever learned to try to describe how it felt but nothing came close to fitting. Shut up. Don't let him win. It's good. Just good.

She was completely at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. His thumb hovered over her clit, doing nothing— teasing, letting her know what it could do, but what it wasn't. He held the one finger so perfectly still inside her, she could feel the blood rushing through it. She held her breath, waiting for his next move. But it never came.

"Malfoy."

"Granger." She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Weren't- weren't you in the middle of something?" She practically screamed the words. His finger was so still— too still. She needed him to go on—

"I was waiting to see if you had questions before I continue the lesson."

She craned her neck to glare at him. "I swear to God, Draco—"

"May I go on?"

"Fuck yes," she groaned deeply. "Please."

He had won. She had let him.

Every nerve in Hermione's body began to pulsate as he pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled deliberately— Waves of pleasure rippled through her core with each push. He found a spot that made her wriggle against the counter. He wouldn't leave it alone. She bit back a cry when one finger became two, and Malfoy stilled. Good cry, good cry, she screamed internally, distrusting her real voice.

"Always wondered if you were a screamer." He chuckled, and the warmth of his digits left her folds.

"Draco Malfoy." Hermione's body was curled from head to toe. She had been so close— so close. So. FUCKING. CLOSE. She wanted Malfoy to hear that last part. "You—"

He eyed her playfully. What? A voice sounded in her head. She jumped, knowing it had to be him.

He snorted. She watched him carefully, the way she wished she could've before. He was gripping her breast with his left hand— had been pleasuring her with his right. As he removed his fingers, he was opening his mouth. Her eyes widened; no.

Shut the fuck up, Granger. And then he sucked the moisture from his knuckles. Loudly, she noted.

"Tastes like everything I shouldn't have."

She blushed, but anger bubbled in the place an orgasm should have been. "Charming. What are you doing now?" She hissed.

"Put your clothes back on, Granger—"

"No, I don't think I will."

"Have it your way then. Snape won't be long now. I'm sure he'd love to revoke every house point you have." His voice was cold again. He snapped nonchalantly and they were both fully clothed.

How dare he bring her to a cliff and leave her teetering on the edge like stray tumbleweed? Look at her like she was the last drop of water in a desert draught and then leave her to sit stagnant at the bottom of the bottle. Did he find joy in watching her squirm, riding out the last round of contractions from where his hands had been? Hearing her plead for him to continue, memorizing the way her voice sounded when he was in control— would that be enough fuel to get him off for the next few nights?

Her legs shook as she stood, considering what item would be best to hurl at his pretty, pampered platinum blonde head. Her eyes settled on the pails of soap-water on the floor, where they were supposed to be scrubbing.

The pail levitated as the thoughts circled her mind, no doubt due to another intrusion from Malfoy on her mind. I can't even defend myself now? "You foul—"

"Loathsome evil little cockroach!" He mocked her third year self with a shrill shriek.

She seethed, rationality rapidly escaping her. The bucket of water flew through the air and— surprisingly— emptied its contents onto Malfoy, and not her. She had done that. "Let me fucking finish, Malfoy!"

Their eyes locked. The double entendre hit her before she could proceed with her sure to be long winded tangent.

He winked. And then an intrusive image flashed in her mind, at the very forefront, like she was watching a muggle movie— one that wouldn't quite turn off. A woman— a girl— completely nude. Legilimency. "Get the fuck out of my head, Malfoy."

You'll like this one, Granger.

The girl's figure writhed and squirmed, bare breasts bouncing as she moved. Malfoy's little show and tell came with disgustingly realistic audio too; the girl hummed softly. Her face contorted, only to relax, then contort again.

"What, exactly, do the two of you think you are doing, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger?" Drawled the voice of Snape. Hermione leapt out of her skin, but the image wouldn't go away. When she glanced to the doors, it appeared behind Snape like a greenscreen projection. She stammered.

"Granger here learned a bit of wandless magic, didn't you mudblood?" Draco's voice was taunting, but the extent of the cruelty was something only she knew. She did her best to scowl in his direction. At least that could be genuine.

Snape began to scold them, but his voice was drowned out by Malfoy's intrusive imagination. The girl's hums became louder, higher pitched. A pace was established. Hermione felt the warmth in her core rise again. Felt almost as if... that was her. She held in a moan as something— some strange force— was thumbing her most sensitive areas. Everywhere, neck, breasts, clitoris, feet. The sensation was excruciatingly blissful. She did her best to stay upright.

"Clean up this mess and go straight to your dorms. I will see both of you tomorrow night, where perhaps you will learn your lesson and. Get. Along." Snape made a face, but there were bright spots in Hermione's vision now. Her chest rose and fell in sync with the girl in her mind.

Hermione couldn't help but feel seduced by the way the girl looked up at her— lids low and droopy, but amber eyes full of flames. Passion, that's the word. And then the vibrations in and on and around her body got quicker, faster, heavier. Snape was gone, so she turned to Malfoy and cried out. Her legs wobbled.

He seemed to notice because he had somehow travelled the room to catch her from falling— or perhaps he was already there. She couldn't tell. The image of the woman burned bright against her irises, illuminating more with each synchronized sigh.

When Hermione Granger came— body aching with euphoria— the image of the woman was gone. In its stead was Draco Malfoy's smug face. "I was only eighty percent positive that you'd come at the sight of yourself. So I added the vibration charm just in case."

"That was— that was me?" Hermione gasped, a tear leaking from her eye, still recovering from the earth shattering wave of pleasure. "She was..."

Distracting.