Chapter Four: Mine, with a Capital M
Disclaimer: Guess what? I am NOT JKR. If I was, I think the books and movies would qualify as soft-core porn.
Thank you so much to all of my reviewers: NelStar7, jennynopenny, When I'm Happy You Laugh.I Secretly hate you., Death to all who defy me, and AcademicDragon
After leaving the Deatheaters' meeting at Malfoy Manor, I am itching to get back to Hogwarts and inform Professor McGonagall of Voldemort's little scheme involving the love of my life. It's unfortunate that I hadn't been paying that much attention at the beginning of the meeting so I really don't know all of the facts. I know enough though. I know that my beloved's name had been uttered from the mouths of several of those hateful creatures and that's enough to piss me right the hell off.
As expected, McGonagall is waiting for me in her office, along with Tonks, Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Arthur Weasley and, of course, Harry Potter. I know Potter is going to shit his little hero-boy pants when I tell him about Hermione being involved, which is the one and only positive aspect of the whole situation.
I tell them what I know of the plan. Namely, that I am supposed to somehow deliver my cherished girlfriend into the arms of the muggle-hating posse, thus sending Potter directly to Voldemort when he and Weasley come looking for her, as they most assuredly would.
As expected, Potter is livid and that makes my day. I can't help but giggle a little on the inside. I just love an outraged, pissed off Potter. He looks so comical, all crazy hair and idiotic glasses. And that horrid scar…Oh, that Potter. He kills me.
Humorous though he may be, once I remember that he is outraged on behalf of my exquisite, precious little witch, the internal giggling comes to an abrupt halt. I've often found that I laugh at incredibly inappropriate times and I know that this time would definitely take the trophy. Maybe I giggle when I'm nervous or anxious? I dunno.
Speaking of which, I need to get to Hermione so goddamn bad! I'm dying here. After a night like tonight, I need to reassure myself that she is untouched and okay. I need to hold her in my arms and smell her scent and kiss her all over her lithe little body. I need to…well, right now I need to pay attention to what McGonagall and the others are saying, but afterwards, let me tell you…
After making each individual Order member in attendance swear to me on their lives that they will let no harm come to Hermione Granger whatsoever, I depart McGonagall's office and head to my precious love's dormitory. She's not in her bed, but I'm not panicking yet. I'm absolutely not.
'She must be taking a shower or bath,' I tell myself, although I don't hear any sounds coming from her bathroom. When I approach her bathroom door, it is open, and dark, and there is no Hermione. And I am panicking. I whimper in fright, realize that I just whimpered, and then I grunt like the real man that I am. And I'm off, a MAN on a mission.
Running out of the Head Girl's quarters, down the blasted, schizophrenic stairs, through the hall, I pass by the library and all of a sudden realize that I, Draco Malfoy, am a complete and utter dunce.
Duh. Why wouldn't I check the library first? NEWTS are drawing closer and my little Study-bug has gotten even more anal retentive about studying and homework and all that jazz. I still wish that she wouldn't wander around at night by herself, though. I open the library door and it appears to be empty, but I know where my little kitten likes to hide.
Sure enough, I find her sitting at the table she always sits at, in the way, way back of the library, right next to the Restricted Section. She is using her wand as a source of light, which is quite bright, not surprising since it is the work of my brilliant witch. When she notices me, I can see the relief in her eyes and it warms me all over. She jumps up from the table and squeals, and then throws herself at me. I catch her and wrap her little body in my arms.
I think I might've squealed too, so happy was I to see her, and then I want to yell at her and hug her to death at the same time. I settle for lifting her body into mine and kissing her all over her beautiful little face. I stand there like that for a few minutes, just holding onto her with my face buried in her hair, and the thought of taking her and fleeing the country crosses my mind again.
"Umm, Draco?" my Angel says, sounding inquisitive.
"Hmm," I breathe into her hair.
"Why do you keep sniffing me like that?"
Oh, uhh, yeah. That.
Okay, I suppose that probably would be a little weird, to have someone repeatedly sticking their nose in your hair and taking deep sniffs for long periods at a time. I can't help it though, I am addicted to her. Her very essence soothes me and makes me think that all is right in the world. And she is mine. Make that Mine, with a capital M.
Instead of answering her, I kiss her brow and run my hand through her hair. She's looking up at me in concern and I know she's going to want to talk about the Deatheaters meeting. Do I tell her about the plan, or not?
On the one hand, I don't want to frighten her or make her unreasonably paranoid. But on the other hand, my lioness is as brave as they come. It takes a lot to scare Hermione, and besides, under these circumstances I want her to be a little paranoid. That way I'll know that she is taking extra precautions so as not to find herself in the wrong hands.
"Draco? Did it go okay tonight?" she asks me. I regard her intensely for a minute and then take a deep breath, coming to a decision. I'll tell her later.
"It went fine. The usual," I wave my hand as if to dismiss the topic. "I could sure use some quality time between the sheets with my gorgeous Gryffindor Goddess, however." I waggle my eyebrows at her and she is momentarily distracted by my devastating charm and sex appeal .Can you honestly blame her though?
I walk over to her table and start shoving her belongings into her bag. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I scoop my love up into my arms and head for the Head Girl's rooms, not giving a shit about the possibility of anyone seeing us out together this late at night.
Once we get inside her bedroom, I place her on the bed and begin tearing my own clothes off as she does the same with her own clothes. We need to be close to each other, warm, satin skin on skin. Once I am sufficiently nude, I climb into bed with her and help her rip her undergarments off. Then I gather her close to me and we cling to each other for a while, our mouths and tongues making love to each other.
"Hermione," I breathe into her lips.
"Draco," she sighs.
"I need to be inside of you," I say, licking a path down her neck. She moans and rolls onto her back, pulling me over her. Kneeling between her legs, I run my fingers over her folds and find that she is practically dripping for me. That's my good, obedient, little sex-kitten.
I bury my face in her breasts and plunge into her heavenly heat, groaning as I do so. She moans my name in response and I slowly thrust in and out of her, savoring the feel of being inside of her.
"Hermione, my love, my lioness," I moan into her skin.
"Draco, my sexy, blond, uh… dragon," she moans back to me. Gods, she is adorable.
"I'm your dragon, yeah that's right, baby," I coo to her. "I'm your fierce, hot, fire-breathing dragon, here to shag you into oblivion." When she groans in ecstasy, I think to myself, 'Damn, I'm good.'
I continue slowly rolling my hips into hers until I can tell that she is getting close to climaxing, and then I slam into her with abandon until the heat is building and building and she is crying out my name. In no time at all, I am helplessly emptying my essence into her clenching pussy.
Heaven, I tell you. We both drift off into an exhausted sleep then, our bodies tightly entwined together.
When I awaken, I'm pretty sure that I've died and gone to Heaven. There kneeling between my legs, is the most exquisite, golden-eyed, bushy haired beauty, with her gorgeous red lips wrapped around my aching cock. I pinch myself to make sure that I am in fact, still alive and/or awake, before giving in to the immense pleasure and groaning my ass off.
"Oh, Hermione. Baby, you are so sexy. Oh, what did I do to deserve you?" I moan, and she deep throats me in earnest. About two seconds later, I proceed to explode into her mouth. She swallows it all, licks me clean and then smiles up at me proudly. I really am the luckiest wizard in the fucking world.
After a performance like that, what else can I do but return the favor? I crawl over the top of her and settle myself between her legs. I kiss her inner thighs, then stick my nose in her crotch and take a deep sniff. Mmmm, yummy, yummy Hermione.
I lick her from the bottom of her pussy to her clit, then swipe my tongue around her clit a few times. I feel her begin to tense up already. I smile, feeling quite smug in the knowledge that I could make her come in ten seconds if I want to. I stick my tongue inside of her and fuck her deeply with it until she yelps out her orgasm.
"That's my lovely, precious, sexy little lioness," I croon to her, and then lap up her remaining juices. Delicious.
I crawl up her trembling body and pull her into my embrace. I know that I should probably tell her about the meeting pretty soon, but I don't want to spoil her contentment. My baby has been quite stressed out lately and she deserves a few moments of blissful peace.
She falls back to sleep, and I am left staring at the ceiling, fretting about everything. I don't want Hermione to worry her pretty little head anymore than she already does, and I don't think she will be scared about old Voldie including her in his plans, but she will definitely be pissed off. And she will worry about Potter and the Weasel. And me, of course. Not that I can't take care of myself, mind you.
But my Hermione is a brave soul and she is strong as hell. If anything, she'll probably come up with some killer plan to make the plan blow up in the faces of Voldemort and his slimy band of Deatheaters. So I wake her up gently, kissing her face and whispering to her.
"I need to talk to you about something," I tell her, and her pretty brow knits in concern. "It's about the meeting last night."
She sits up and rubs her adorably drowsy eyes, but she is ready to hear whatever I have to tell her. So I tell her everything I know about the plan. And boy is she pissed off.
"That ugly, slimy, filthy, pathetic, horrible excuse for a man!" she spouts. Then she shocks the hell out of me. "Let those goddamn pieces of shit just try it. I fucking dare them! Bring it on, fuck-chops!"
Fuck-chops?
Okay, the thing is that my princess rarely uses curse words. And she has to be really, really angry in order to use the fuck-word. (Fuck-chops, really?) But I'm mightily impressed by her colorful use of language, and I must admit, I'm a little turned on as well. I don't fancy having my cock hexed off, however, so I control my urges.
I let her pace around and curse her adorable little arse off for awhile, but then decide enough is enough.
"Baby," I coo to her, pulling her into my arms, "those "fuck-chops" as you say" (I just love that word now) "don't stand a chance, okay? I already spoke to McGonagall and the Order is working on a plan of their own."
I feel her relax immediately when she hears that the Order is already on it. I kiss her sweet little forehead and sniff her hair for awhile, and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside when she looks up at me and gives me one of her lovely smiles.
After that episode, we could both use a little sexual healing, so we crawl back into bed and that's where we stay until seven p.m. rolls around and she has to leave me to meet Anthony "fuck-chop" Goldstein.
Before she leaves, I give her a snog session she'll never forget whilst rubbing my self all over her like a cat. I heard that's how they mark their territory, by spreading their scent all over their owners and fellow cat friends. It sounds like a good idea to me so I give it a shot. On the down side, by the time she has to leave, I have a massive hard-on and am forced to take a cold shower in order to ease my boy down a bit.
At dinner that evening, I am silently suffering through a "conversation" with the Slytherins about the Golden Trio, as Potter, Weasley and Hermione are known around school.
"Gods, do you think she takes them both on at the same time?" Millicent asks, referring to my girlfriend and who else? You guessed it. Potty and the Weasel. I gag a little on my dinner but manage to keep my face neutral.
I look towards the Gryffindor table, where I know my precious won't be since she is currently in the company of Anthony bloody Goldstein, holed up in a dark secluded office, probably having to fight off Goldstein's advances with a stick…Okay, better stop that right now before I'm forced to "Avada" him…
I look over at the other two members of the Golden Trio while the Slytherins keep on making crude comments regarding the prudishness of one Hermione Granger. I smirk to myself. Or at the wankers, I mean. Whatever.
"Oh please, Millie," I hear Pansy moo -er, I mean say-, "that uptight little bitch? She'll probably die a virgin!" At this lovely little comment, most of the Slytherin table bursts into laughter.
My smirk broadens as I am pleasantly reminded of some of the naughty, delicious things my Golden Goddess has done to me –and let me do to her- and I too burst into laughter at the complete and utter stupidity of these people. Oh if they only knew some of the positions I had gotten the Head Girl's sexy little body into. Why, just last night I had had her bent over the…Erm.
I realize that I've been staring at Potter the whole time and smiling dreamily while reminiscing about the lewd acts performed with my lioness. He keeps nervously glancing at me and appears to be totally creeped out. In your dreams, Potter.
"It's really a shame though," says Theo Nott, and I smile dreamily again, knowing what's coming, and imagining the feel of my fist slamming into Nott's face. "She's turned into a pretty hot little number. The arse on that witch is amazing!" My smile turns into an all-out grin as my fantasy of punching him out becomes even more vivid.
"Yeah, I wouldn't turn away a chance to tap that ass!" says Blaise enthusiastically, and all of the males at the table are laughing and agreeing with him. I feel a brief twinge of pain. Blaise is the second best looking wizard in the school .Stupid Blaise and his stupid…sexiness. I know my little witch loves me though, and I trust her implicitly.
Theo chimes in again, laughing, "She's probably a tiger in the sack. I mean, she has to let herself go sometime, don't you think?" The males all agree and laugh some more. Excluding me. I've had enough.
"Must you idiots always be so vulgar?" I roar, and you should have seen the looks on their faces. Where's my poker face now?
"Oh sorry, Malfoy. I don't mean to offend your prudish little virgin ears," Nott says, smirking. How dare he smirk at me! Imagine, someone smirking at a Malfoy! Outrageous.
I get up from the table and mutter some excuse about having a headache and wander off in search of my Hermione. On the way out, I can't help but glance over at Potter and sure enough, he is still looking rather uneasily at me.
Just for kicks, I throw him a wink and he looks away in a hurry, looking extremely uncomfortable. Oh, Potter, you're too easy. The brief torment of him does make me feel better, though. Now where is my lovely witch at? I believe we have some unfinished business to tend to.
