I know you're all hyped to finally get to the smut (it's there, I promise!), but PLEASE READ this A/N.
During the past week, FFN deleted several fics of mine: Mind and Body, Inked, Flickering Flames, Tangled, Limbs, and The Book. I'm expecting the rest to follow. I'm not going to speculate on why somebody picked mine while uncounted, way more explicit fics presumably were not, but there are hints it's been targeted.
I'm very sorry for the people who have commented and liked/followed my works here, but this means I'm CEASING POSTING NEW WORKS HERE. Please know that I appreciate each and every of your likes/follows and especially your comments! It pains me to know your kind words are gone :(.
My penname on AO3 is SARENA. Please follow me there, as I can guarantee everything stays up on AO3, but I can't say the same for here. I'll still try to finish Appendices on FFN but they might delete it, too.
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That being said, here's the new chapter. Smut ahead, everyone!
A huge thank you to everyone for liking, following, and commenting! You guys make my day *hearts.*
A thousand "Thank yous" to TheLastLynx for the amazing alpha and beta, to Riptide for his tireless beta, and to Astoria_J13 for the flawless polishing!
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Draco combed his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to get a hold on himself in a way that wasn't just holding onto his cock. Only three days into their blasted separation, and he was more agitated than a Blast-Ended Skrewt a quarter second before an attack. He loosened his collar, then placed his palms onto the desk in front of him.
The dark wood was cool under his heated skin, which—along with the breeze rolling in through the window—provided a modicum of relief. The curtains surrounding it billowed lazily, shadows moving with the rising and ebbing of the fabric. No sound but the merry tweeting of birds and the occasional bee confusing the library for a meadow disturbed the peace.
Living practically alone had its merits. Wompy tiptoed around him, her elf-senses presumably telling her something was off from a hundred metres away. His mother was still in France, enjoying her life, while he was constantly randy.
Draco curled his hands into fists, then pressed them flat into the surface of the desk again. He started the day with a wank, had one for lunch, and another one before bed. Hell, he was ready for another one right now. He began to wonder if he should try different locations, just for variety, but he didn't really think that his mother's roses would appreciate that sort of attention.
More often than not, he'd read Granger's letters with his trousers around his ankles and his appendages slithering all over him as he imagined her fingers on him. The sheets of paper revealed nothing but a hint of her coconut shampoo, no matter how much he sniffed. He kept hoping to catch something muskier, but he would never admit to that out loud. She'd wash her hands after having them down her knickers, anyway, so the likelihood was nil.
Draco did get a bit more adventurous with his extra limbs, and not just for additional exercising. The stretch was still foreign, but the pressure on his prostate was lovelier than he had expected. One appendage wrapped around the base of his cock dragged out his orgasm deliciously, so this quickly became a welcome indulgence.
His glance flicked to the shallow pile of her letters. He had a new favourite fantasy of her. One that featured her in the air—
head thrown back in passion, limbs and torso held up by his appendages. Her knees were bent and spread as widely as they would go, giving him the most enticing view he'd ever had. Pink and glistening wet, a sight that made him want to dip his head down again and slide his tongue along her labia. She had moaned so prettily in response.
An appendage was buried in her mouth, another one fucked her arse slowly, while two more took turns drilling into her cunt. Her sounds were mindless noises of lust as she egged him on to take her harder, faster, deeper. He had already made her come five times, but he didn't grant himself reprieve yet. He wanted her to be adorned with his seed, letting it drip from her cunt and her tits and her face, so he held back just a little more and—
Draco let out a shuddering exhale. It wisped over the dampness that had formed on his upper lip. Where did all the thoughts of her covered in his release come from, and why were they so incredibly appealing? He blinked a few times to regain his bearings. His appendages still moved under his skin, ready to break free at once. He forced himself to cool down his vigour.
Fantasies were safe for the moment. As long as he couldn't have the real thing, they were all he could resort to, anyway. He wondered if he would indeed pursue a way to get rid of his curse if it was presented to him. He wondered if it really was such a burden to bear, now that he got to know Granger better. She didn't seem to be appalled by his appendages; she might even enjoy them, if her reactions were anything to go by. Draco found himself more than willing to fulfil her wants and needs. The image of him taking her in every hole appeared again before his inner eye, and he bit his tongue to dispel it with the unpleasant pain blooming in his mouth.
Although his fingers itched so urgently to free the growing bulge in his trousers from its confines, and to let even more scenarios play through his mind, he took a conscious effort not to grab her most recent letter and simply indulge. Instead, he took a sip of his already-cooled tea and focused back on the notes he had sorted into several piles on the desk in the Malfoy library.
Closest to him were his notes on the draughts he considered or even had tried already. The stack would have to be transcribed into a journal soon, but at the moment, he was more interested in trying different variations than documenting them. Granger certainly had a dissimilar mode of action, judged by what he'd observed at her workplace. Immediately, he wondered if she would be amenable to holding onto her heavy shelf, blouse opened so he could play with her nipples while he pounded—
Draco growled at himself, taking refuge in recalculating the complicated ratios of the amounts of ingredients. Despite all the distractions his own mind provided, he'd been able to progress nicely on a potential potion recipe. Abraxas seemed to have put major effort into creating and trying several concoctions during his lifetime.
Sorting through the various thrown-in mentions of his grandmother, and Abraxas's vicious political intrigues left Draco with a vague feeling of unease. It was a feat to try to keep track of his grandfather's experiments, but these notes gave Draco an ever-evolving list of possible combinations and components. Some of them were not exactly easy to come by, so he tried the ones which were more common until he could get his hands on the more exotic ones. Granted, not all recipes were for the appendages. Draco had also found refined concoctions for everyday use, such as improved pain potions and an antidote to caffeine shock.
A Sticking Charm held the sheets of paper detailing tried and disregarded recipes together at one corner. He had experimented with the Calming Draught already, and while the latest version had curbed his appendages during his and Hermione's meeting at Gringotts, Draco remembered all too vividly how hard it had been not to give in. Something more effective was desperately needed, but he also wasn't eager to repeat the failed optimisation based on the Draught of Peace recipe.
His appendages hadn't withdrawn for two entire days after that debacle, regardless of what he'd tried, and he was grateful that the effects had finally run their course a day ago. An icy shiver ran down his spine. He didn't want to imagine how his life would turn out if they were permanently out in the open. That incident had put a damper on his disposition to experiment on himself. He didn't want to end up being a lonely recluse for the rest of his life.
Draco wiped his damp palms on the napkin on his lap. This year's summer wasn't exactly hotter than any other English summer, but the curse seemed to have his body heated up all day long. More often than not, he was sweating, especially when he thought of Hermione. After a second's consideration, he also dabbed his face and neck with the white, smooth cloth before he reached for his research notebook. A bookmark indicated the last entry, which consisted of the latest summary of his findings. Neat rows listed the potion identifiers and corresponding ingredients. He skimmed over the items, although he'd already picked promising candidates for his next trials.
His eyes snagged on one entry that had him puzzled because it stood out from the others like a sore thumb. While it simply seemed to combine ingredients of Wit Sharpening Potions with lavender and crocodile heart, there was another component mentioned. Draco wasn't sure if he had translated it correctly. Sometimes, it was a reach with the runes Abraxas used.
Translated literally, the runes in question meant elephant bird feather. Then there was a sign he couldn't interpret, and the section closed with something which appeared to signify diminished hell. An elephant bird from a small hell? It didn't make any sense.
Draco sighed, a twinge of annoyance filtering through his concentration. He had never heard of an elephant bird, but he was aware that he couldn't know all the possible ingredients. Not even the British Library of Wizardry could hold all books possibly written on ingredients derived from plants and animals. Especially those from other continents and cultures would take centuries to explore, even for the most adventurous potion masters. All he could do was enquire about the issue at his usual apothecaries. If anyone knew anything about it, it would be them.
Until hearing back from them, he would attempt another version of the Calming Draught. It would be very advantageous if he could combat the decrease of efficacy which came with prolonged use. He couldn't put his trial batches through their proper paces as Hermione's presence wasn't something he could enjoy at the moment, but it wouldn't hurt to brew a few vials in advance.
Base of infused lavender, substitute crocodile heart with armadillo bile, substitute half of peppermint with ginger. A. advised brewing according to Calming Draught.
Draco tapped the tip of the plume on his chin. At least he could see if the new concoction had any side effects he wouldn't want to suffer from when Granger was around. However, if she really wasn't as opposed to his appendages as common sense would dictate...
A consideration for another time. He grabbed the journal he was currently working on. Another twenty pages, and then he would go to the lab to put his latest findings into practise.
ooOoOoOoo
Hermione placed her empty tea set on the counter of her tiny kitchenette. Moving her wand in a sinuous wave from right to left, she filled a small pitcher and a glass of cold water, then she washed her hands thoroughly.
Night had fallen a while ago, leaving the sweltering heat dulled but still oppressive. She had reapplied the insect-repelling charm, but it also decreased the amount of fresh air coming into the flat. It turned the atmosphere sticky and unpleasant, just like her week had been. In fact, it had been quite ghastly to plod through it.
The mysterious Black box remained closed as Andromeda was on an extended holiday. And on Wednesday, there had been a distasteful encounter with an old guard blood-supremacist at Gringotts.
Hermione slid her hand over her damp face. The man hadn't dared call her names in public, but his behaviour had been more than an affront as he'd asked for a proper curse breaker to assist him. Even two days later, she still seethed.
She pushed the incident back to the recesses of her mind. Instead of lingering on the insult, she brought the unresolved curse on Malfoy to the forefront again. Despite all the thoughts of him that would creep up on her and distract her, she had kept herself busy with research as well as she could.
Evenings without him were extremely... jejune. Hermione rubbed her sternum as she walked back into her living room. Her chest felt oddly hollow without him around. She glanced at the stack of books on the table next to her cosy two-seater as she put the water carafe on the floor at a safe distance from her feet.
A drip of sweat ran down the nape of her neck. Gods, was it hot.
A flick of her wrist cancelled the shield against critters over her window. A gust of wind blew in, and she relished the cooler air caressing her skin. Too soon, the first moth flew in, and with a long, fortifying exhale, she closed the window and her curtains before she sat down.
Two of the three volumes sitting on a side table next to her had not been easy to come by. She had only got permission after she'd bribed the very reluctant head librarian of the British Library of Wizardry with tea, scones, and a friendly debate on the upcoming book on numerology by her former Hogwarts teacher, Professor Vector. Of course, a lot of "I really ought not," and, "Only because it's you, Ms Granger," had been included as well. Hermione issued a heavy exhale. As if she would do anything but treat the books with all the care and respect they deserved. The outlook on a potential meet-up with Professor Vector hadn't hurt the negotiations at all, Hermione wagered.
She turned each of the tomes in her hands, carefully releasing two of the personalised, mandatory seals she'd have to re-apply immediately after closing them. The two older texts were the only surviving copies. One work was a codex written on vellum so yellowed that she was having a hard time deciphering it. The faded ink didn't help the matter either, although Hermione knew the Conservation Charms imbued in it would at least protect it from further damage. In spite of these large stretches of illegibility, Conjuraciouns for the Mildheorteð was probably her best bet.
The other works were more modern. Handy Charmes for the Clever Wytch dated back to 1608. It weighed heavily in her hands as her thumb slid along the smooth spine of the plain, dark leather cover. Hermione could barely believe this book had even survived, with its spells ranging from innocent healing magic to dark, vicious curses documented specifically for use by women.
The last one of the three was from 1963. Despite its garish gold print and overly lavish cover—the title of Meet Your Inner Demon Tamer might have been an indicator of its quality—it didn't come with any seals. Hermione had determined early on that it was more about mind-altering substances than actual conjurations. The publication must have been an ego-booster for the author, considering how often he mentioned himself throughout the text. She rolled her eyes at the memory. It really should have been in the "Ingredients and Potions" section instead of "Conjurations and Spiritual Magic". Maybe she ought to talk to the librarian about it.
Hermione put the book back on the table. Opening Conjuraciouns at the page she'd marked days ago, she mouthed the spell she would incantate later, then placed it next to her thigh on the umber leather upholstery. Handy Charmes was next, lying now opened on her lap. Her gaze flitted between the diagrams on the page and the floor at her feet to check her preparations.
The reverse pentagram she'd drawn was flawless. The Conjuraciouns repeatedly noted in its particular amalgam of medieval Latin and Middle English that for the conjurations of demons it was especially important to have all angles, lines, and the surrounding protective circle arranged in the described pattern. Unfortunately, those particular pages were practically unreadable. They were completely bleached where they weren't smeared, so Hermione had to rely on the illuminations she had found in Handy Charmes. Still, the older of the two works was clear on the necessary components for a successful conjuration.
Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. She was sure she'd done everything in her power to get it right, but there were some uncertainties left. After a brief moment, she flicked her wand to add another layer of protection, and smoothed the furrow on her brow. She would deal with unpleasant surprises when they turned up.
As she looked down on the tidy white lines, she was grateful that her flat had hardwood floors instead of carpets. The Welsh chalk, harvested under a lunar eclipse of a dry autumn night as the seller had assured her, had crumbled terribly, making it a true feat to keep the lines in order. She wouldn't have wanted to do that on a carpet. Even with magic, it would have been almost an impossibility to get the crumbs and splinters out to ascertain the required precision.
At least she didn't have to get blood or the like to perform the rite. Its frequent use in the Wizarding World was disconcerting.
The mandated plain but fresh water stood in the pitcher on the floor next to her—a key to a successful summoning, according to the book. However, the use of the "reahl name" was equally important. Hermione controlled the double warding which left the inside of the pentagram blurred behind its shimmering, translucent borders.
It was the smart thing to do, just in case something went wrong and she conjured the wrong demon. A last look at the halfway unintelligible—and unpronounceable—words and a deep breath later, she sang the incantation while sprinkling exactly seven drops of water on each of the crossing points of the circle.
Nothing happened.
Hermione repeated everything with an altered cadence.
Again, there was nothing.
More sweat beaded on her forehead. She cursed and squinted at the faint letters. The Latin parts were simple enough to decipher for someone of her education and experience, but she had contacted one of her Oxford mentors for insight on some phrases she hypothesised were an obscure dialect of Middle English. If the spell didn't work this third and last time, she would have to postpone, only to make sure the integrity of the reverse pentagram and her wards would not be compromised.
With a frustrated sigh, she concentrated and tried once again with a different pronunciation.
A black flash emerged from the centre of her inverted pentagram. It covered her in all-consuming darkness for a few seconds, the spike of sudden coldness pricking her skin with sharp needles. When the smoke within the protective wards began to clear, a doe-eyed Draco with a toasted cheese sandwich in hand appeared. He swallowed the bite and croaked an incredulous, "Granger?"
She stared at his naked chest. In hindsight, she should have anticipated that he might not be dressed to the nines at one o'clock in the morning, but she couldn't help that his bare torso immediately caught her attention. Only the silver lines of his scars were paler than his skin. Sparse blond hairs were scattered over it, leading down to his navel and beyond. Hermione ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She felt hotter than ever. The low-slung pyjama shorts gave her just enough of a hint of what was under the thin cotton.
And how badly she wanted that.
"Up here, Granger." She snapped her gaze up, just in time to watch him licking the crumbs off his fingers as he finished his sandwich with gusto. His nonchalance didn't quite cover up the pleased expression on his face.
Hermione's cheeks flamed with the shame of having been caught ogling. All too aware of her own faded pyjamas, she tugged on the hem of her top. She really hadn't thought that one through when she'd prepared to summon him
"Care to explain how I got here at this time of night? Not that I mind being invited to your home, but this is admittedly unconventional." His eyes dropped to the floor and his brows creased as he appraised the white lines.
As evenly as she could, she announced, "I was proving a point." Her words came out more breathlessly than she would have liked.
"Whatever point might that be? Except, you missing me, obviously." The corners of his lips turned up as he scrutinised her. Then, he looked at the inverted pentagram again. He tilted his head. It seemed the pieces were falling into place.
"I doubt you were faring much better than me this past week," she said under her breath. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, but he was still contained within the wards. Then she filled her lungs deeply, preparing herself. "However, my research strongly suggests that you're a demon." Hermione peeked at him expectantly. She felt a sense of pride at successfully accomplishing this elusive, ancient ritual.
"Excuse me?" he spluttered. The smile was gone; instead, his eyebrows knitted.
"I performed a conjuration." She began to pace outside of the circle. He narrowed his eyes at her. Certainly, he'd grasp her reasoning? When he remained silent, she continued, "I thought if the curse on your family somehow changed a magical aspect within you, I'd be able to narrow down that alteration by method of elimination. We don't have any sophisticated magi-medic equipment at hand, and it's questionable if anyone could properly identify a proposed demonic inheritance during an examination." She was pleased with herself, but when he still didn't respond, she faltered for a few heartbeats before she pressed on. "The summonings of demons went out of style after 1700, and literature isn't easily available. But I have my sources, and I indeed summoned you. Of course, it was a confirmation and not as much of an elimination per se but..." In the face of his continued silence, her words finally trailed off.
When she looked at him again, Draco's face was ashen. "Drop the wards," he gritted out between his teeth. His forehead shone with perspiration.
"Wha—"
"Drop the fucking wards, Granger!"
She perceived the movement under his skin before she was able to see the appendages. Before she could react in any way, they slithered out and crashed against the translucent walls she had established. The event took a second at most, but was even more impressive since her wards began to strain under the force of the assault. Hermione chanted the counterspells. She was crestfallen as Draco stalked to her couch, where he just let himself fall into the cushions. This wasn't how she had imagined the outcome.
The tentacles twitched and writhed through the air around him. His horns grew until they reached their full length. Dark and curved, they gave him an otherworldly aura. A demon, maybe not accompanied by clichéd fire and sulphur, but with features menacing enough to frighten little children. And yet Hermione found herself irresistibly drawn to him.
She tried to stop her hands from fidgeting. She didn't think he would appreciate her reaching for his protrusions, be it his extra limbs or his horns. Were they as sensitive as his appendages seemed to be? An image of her riding him, fists tightly gripping the horns, appeared before her inner eye. She shook it off.
"—alcohol?"
As his question registered, she blinked several times to regain her bearings. "I have vodka."
"Anything. I don't care what."
Hermione nodded and hurried into the kitchen. She could use a drink herself. As she grabbed the bottle from the freezer and two shot glasses from a cupboard, she paused for a moment. Then she exchanged them for bigger ones.
Draco's neck stretched over the backrest of her sofa, eyes closed when she entered the living room again. His tentacles kept wriggling around him and over the upholstery; jerky movements that proved his otherwise collected demeanour a lie. He must have shoved the table back in front of her two-seater. Only some parts of the inverted pentagram were still visible.
A resonating clink sounded as she put the glasses on the table. As she turned to the sofa, he collected his sprawled tentacles against his thighs in order to make room for her on the other seat. Hermione tilted the bottle and a finger's breadth of vodka gurgled into each glass. At his cocked eyebrow, she added another one for him.
He sighed in resignation, snatched his drink from her proffering hand, and gulped it down without a hint of hesitation. Hermione swallowed the clear liquid in her own glass without comment, the burn in her oesophagus a warm stream to her stomach. At her side, she felt the infinitesimal movements of his tentacles against her. She scooted the tiniest bit closer.
"I was under the impression you didn't drink," she said.
"I don't. Haven't had a drop in a couple of years." His head lolled to the side to face her. "I don't like how numb it used to make me."
During the war, was what he meant.
A tightness formed in her throat. Hermione swallowed again, though not vodka. She was waiting for him to continue, but he went back to staring straight ahead. The cheap art print of Van Gogh's Sunflowers was probably not what had captured his attention. She saw the muscles in his jaw working.
"I... I took a lot of Calming Draught for a while," she offered.
"Ah." Draco turned his head to her again. "Their efficacy drops the more you take."
"Yes."
"Hm." His eyes were without judgement. "The adjusted recipe should counter that."
"Maybe. We'll see." A couple of long moments ticked by in silence before Hermione changed the topic back to what she'd attempted earlier. "I think this... You seem to react to certain stimuli like a demon would. This will help us." She gestured to the inverted pentagram on the floor. The lines were completely smeared. At some spots, they both had walked over them, and irregular stains were visible where she had dripped the water on the chalk. The smoke, on the other hand, didn't seem to have left any residue. "Now that the hypothesis has proven correct, I'll have to read up more on demons."
A defiant expression appeared on his face.
"Otherworldly, physical changes. Horns. Answering to a summoning! And you do possess some of the described features." She turned to him fully, shifting in her seat, and gesticulated to his appendages and his head. To her delight, she felt more of his tentacles on her leg this way. They exuded restlessness, making miniscule movements that resembled vibrations as one curled around her knee and another trailed up her thigh. "Before, we had hints but no evidence. Now we have proof that the demonic qualities don't just pertain to physical manifestations in your body, but also to your spirit."
"Really? That's the essence of your research?" The flat look he cast at her still oozed stubborn defiance, but the sharpness of an actual attack was missing in his words. His tentacles pressed more firmly against her. Draco radiated a warmth she couldn't resist in such close proximity. And she didn't want to deprive herself any longer.
"It doesn't change much. Not to me, anyway," she assured him, unconsciously tracing the tip of her index finger along the length of one of his extra limbs.
The smooth, anthracite surface moved under her digit. As if it were the most logical thing, Hermione cupped her fingers and stroked it lightly. The tentacle arched into her touch like a cat welcoming caressing hands. A little of the tension in Draco bled out but she understood his reluctance to accept her conclusions. It wasn't every day that one was confronted with a demonic heritage.
She continued, "Just that we have to consider a much more fundamental curse and may have to adjust our research."
"More fundamental also means it'll be much harder to remove. If at all, that is. For all I know it could have been in my family since the very first Malfoy."
A long line of lucky partners, she thought. "Your grandfather was able to lead a normal life, with no one outside of your family knowing!"
Draco glared at her. His appendages had gone motionless. "Define normal."
She threw her hands up in exasperation, letting herself fall against the backrest. Why wouldn't he see that it wasn't a disadvantage as soon as he could fully control them? Or at least silence them for a certain time.
When she'd planned the summoning, she'd thought Draco would readily agree with her line of reasoning, and that they'd proceed to talking about how they had progressed in their independent research. Maybe they'd throw in a bit of physical contact. In Hermione's imagination, they'd definitely spend a lot of time on that. She shifted as the image of his tentacles wrapped around her breasts flickered into her mind. Resolutely, she pushed it away and focused back on him.
"There is no reason you shouldn't be able to live on your own terms. You wouldn't strive for anything less, would you?" She put all her calm conviction into her words.
"What you want and what you get are rarely the same thing," he muttered. Louder, he added, "I resolutely prefer not having them at all." As if his body meant to prove him wrong, the tentacles moved again. His sigh sounded exasperated, though he also cast her a veiled glance and what could have been the hint of a wry smile.
"We'll find something. I'm sure of it."
He sighed again, then relaxed the grip his fingers had on the armrest. "Hopefully. I guess I'll deal with it until then."
"I sort of…fancy them," Hermione admitted.
Draco's head whipped around. "Oh?"
In a more physical response, the appendages were outright searching for her now, slithering along her limbs. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine, as she nodded. They were sleek but powerful where they met the bare skin of her arms and legs. Warm and a little scaly, their touch elicited a delicious tingle in the lower pit of her abdomen.
Hermione was getting wet already. Then again, she might just be constantly horny around him. She eyed his head. Horny. How fitting.
Draco's pupils dilated as he took a deep breath. He shifted, leaning toward her, and inhaled again. A moan dropped from his lips. "You smell so good."
"Oh. Well. The lotion I use after my shower—"
"You smell good." He sniffed again. This time his nose grazed her neck, and she barely suppressed a needy whimper. "Below the coconut, there's woman and knowledge. Temptation and arousal. What you call my demonic features seem to agree." He licked her pulse and wrapped two tentacles around her waist.
She twisted and edged forward, disconnecting his lips from her jaw to meet them properly. As she pushed her tongue into his mouth, more appendages writhed along her limbs. They curled around her arms and legs, carefully sliding closer to her breasts and the apex of her thighs. Hermione groaned when two of them brushed over her nipples. The sensation immediately ran down her spine to find its aim in her core. Draco's real touches were so much better than her imagination. She became even wetter.
"Granger, the Ice Wind. Maybe you should—"
"The whole point of this week-long separation was to rule out external influences. I believe we can safely exclude them." Fluidly, she moved to straddle his lap, placing herself right against the outline of his erection. "Unless you disagree?"
"I concur with your apt analysis of our situation." He licked his lips as he stared at her mouth.
Hermione mirrored his actions, then she said, "I'm exactly where I want to be. We will be safe if we refrain from actual intercourse."
"Is that what you looked up during the week?" Draco watched her, half with mischief, half with hunger. "Sex with half-demons—go or no?"
Hermione snorted a giggle. Her hands caressed his face and his horns. "Life would be so much better if it were so easy. Besides, I believe you only have a tiny bit of demon blood in you." She fisted his horns and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He groaned, following her lead willingly. With a smirk, she said, "Although your father did exhibit the traditionally evil characteristics associated with demons which makes me think that—"
"Granger," he intercepted her string of words. "This is not the time to bring up my father." He smoothed his palms over her bum. His fingers dug into the junction between her arse and thighs. Hermione exhaled heavily, spreading her legs wider and rubbing her core against his cock.
"Right."
His only reply was a rumble in his chest and more eager tentacles on her skin. It tingled where-ever they touched her, stoking her lust.
She undulated her hips as she closed her eyes to kiss him again. This felt like the appropriate reaction to their mutual attraction, to the undeniable longing that had built within her over the past week. Wherever it might have come from, she wanted to see where it went. All previous restraints seemed inconsequential with him underneath her, all doubts insignificant as his skin burnt upon hers. This was what was right.
Hermione's hand roamed over his chest. Carefully, she traced his scars and circled the small outline of his dusty nipples. As she played with them, they pebbled at once. She followed the sparse trail of hair to his navel, where she softly scratched her fingernails over his smooth skin.
His hips bucked upwards in response, making her smile and trail a line of kisses along his stubbly chin and neck, over his collarbone and to his pectorals. Her hand reached up and pinched one of his nipples while she sucked on the other one, the fingertips of the other hand about to sneak below the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Although the pressure of his cock on her clit was exciting, she moved back a little to give her exploring hand more room. His appendages were in constant motion; they slid over her skin and the fabric of her night clothes.
"Granger, Granger, Granger," Draco whispered. One appendage coiled around her wrist before she could slip her fingers past the crown of his cock. To her dismay, he pulled her hand away.
"I wouldn't go further," she assured him. A drop of his precome was smeared on her fingertips. She inspected it, and with a speculative tilt of her head, she brought it to her mouth and licked it off. The tentacle that was still around her wrist tightened but didn't hinder her movements.
Something red flickered in his eyes for a heartbeat; if she'd have blinked, she'd have missed it.
"Mhm," he said and placed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, just below his appendage. "I like it like that. Close to you, touching you, but there are still clothes between us. It's... different. Titillatingly so, and less likely to trigger the Old Magic." He put her hand on his uncovered nipple.
Hermione still wanted more, wanted to feel all of his skin on hers, but she conceded with a lingering kiss to his mouth and increased the pressure of her clothed core gyrating on his cock. The friction his counter-movements created was heavenly. Her knickers stuck to her labia with how soaked she was, adding a bit of slide between her cloth and her clit. Dipping her head, she first licked over the taut nipple and then took it between her lips again.
He groaned. "Harder. You can go a lot harder, you know."
While Hermione moved her mouth away, she kept pinching the other nipple. If he liked stimulation of that erogenous zone, she was happy to provide it. His cheeks were red, his whole body squirming under and around her as he watched her from under half-lidded eyes. She found his reaction to her incredibly arousing.
"How hard?" she whispered against his skin, licking a broad stripe over his flushed skin before she pecked a short trail of kisses along the scars across his chest.
"Granger," he whined. His hips jerked up again and ground against her core. Hermione's breath came out shaky. She wanted so badly to feel him fill her. Maybe she could make him use his appendages on her? From what she'd read, this shouldn't prompt the Old Magic.
Hermione increased the pressure of her fingers. She grazed his other nipple with her teeth and moaned at the steadily building need inside of her. Her hips worked his cock now. As his tentacles moved away from her breasts, she protested, but her worries that he would stop were unwarranted. The extra limbs played with the hem of her pyjama top and snaked under it until they curled around her heavy breasts. They pinched her nipples in turn, causing her to throw her head back and moan loudly.
"Oh," she panted. Her skin burned deliciously where the sleek surface of his tentacles touched her, spiking her perception of each touch to a supernatural level.
"Like that, do you?" His gaze focused on her face. Sweat was pearling on his upper lip. His appendages moved over her body, some slithering into the back of her pyjama bottoms and under her knickers. There, they spread out to squeeze her flesh.
"Yes." Her response was more guttural noise than intelligible response when one slipped between her labia. But it only rested there, not moving further. Hermione wanted to demand proper action from him, but all that came out was a loud, desperate moan. The anticipation of feeling him inside of her, finally, became nearly unbearable. Her skin tingled where he touched her, transforming her lingering want into an urgent ache. She tried to rock against the tentacle, make it rub over her clit, but it kept up with her every move, denying her that friction. Hermione whimpered.
"Fuck, you're positively dripping."
Malfoy's hips sped up as the appendages around her waist pressed her down against his cock. At first, she hadn't been sure she could climax in this position, but as soon as he ceased the movement of the tentacle between her labia, so she could slide herself against it, she knew she would. Heavens, she'd never had sex like this before, humping more or less fully clothed against somebody. It was incredible. Every single passing of her needy centre of nerves over the now-slippery tentacle stoked the tension in her belly.
"Harder," he demanded. His skin was gleaming with perspiration, hectic blotches adorning his cheeks and neck.
"Alright," she said before she latched her mouth on his chest again and sucked much harder than earlier. The tentacle in her pyjama bottoms moved once more. It skimmed her opening, up toward her back entrance, then down across her perineum and back between her labia, coating her with her abundant wetness. Her skin broke out in goosebumps—the pleasurable kind that came with exhilarating sensations. She groaned as the playful slide of his extra limb along her inner lips teased her mercilessly. Never performing more than a faint circle around her entrance, it made her squeeze around nothing in response.
It was driving her mad with want.
A glance up confirmed just how much he was affected, too. Draco looked unrestrained, his mouth slack and sweat running down his temples. Her fingers rolled and twisted the other peak, making him choke out her name while his head fell back. Before she switched to the other side, she left an angry red love bite between his pectorals.
She felt each inch of his tentacles on her skin, which added to the sensation of the increased intensity they squeezed her nipples with. Tomorrow, her breasts would be sore and smart at every contact of fabric on them, would be swollen and stiff and achy, and she would love every minute of it as it would remind her of tonight. She smiled.
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna—"
Hermione almost halted at the endearment. Then she lifted her lips from his nipple with a soft stroke of tongue, just to replace them with one hand. She thumbed the pebbled flesh. "Don't hold back," she murmured against his lips and kissed him hard.
He thrust against her core a few more times and moaned his climax into her mouth. His eyes bore into hers, lashes fluttering but not falling closed. For the first time, she saw somebody's look glaze over with the power of relief.
It was amazing.
"Shit. Fuck. That—" Draco kept jerking under her, his hips grinding up and moving in irregular circles as he rode out his high for longer than she would have expected.
"Don't stop," she demanded and pressed her cunt against his still hard dick. Watching him losing all restraints had keyed her up so much that the prospect of not coming was insufferable. She needed it badly. "Whatever you do, don't stop."
The drop of sweat clinging to the edge of his jaw was begging her to be licked off. Draco looked decidedly worn out, but a spark of lust reignited in his eyes. Rapid breaths shuddered out of him as he rubbed his palms up and down her spine for a moment all the while she humped him.
"Let me see you." His gaze was heated from under heavy-lidded eyes as he pulled her top up with his hands. It got caught in her hair, but he managed to remove it without further issues.
"Clothes on, I thought?" she challenged him, but arched her back. The tips of the appendages never stopped flicking over her peaks, back and forth, sometimes curling up and pinching them. A long-drawn groan fell from her lips.
"Spontaneously changed my mind, Granger."
"How convenient for you," Hermione hummed, clasping her hands onto his shoulders to steady herself.
Draco cupped her face with one hand and stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. "Look at how beautiful you are," he said as his tentacles kneaded her breasts. "Full tits, pink nipples, round arse." His extra limbs tightened around every body part he mentioned. "And a hot, soaking cunt." The appendage on it wiggled a little, making Hermione moan and try to hump it harder.
"Don't stop. Feels good. Close," she said and kept rubbing herself on him. There was still a girthy bulge beneath her. She hoped it would stay until she came. He kissed the corners of her mouth, then suckled on her neck all the while his appendages tweaked and rolled her nipples without a pause.
"You're so irresistible like this, Hermione. All flushed and delectable. Do you know how often I imagine you like this?" He loosened one tentacle with his last words and pressed his mouth on her nipple. Her peak lodged between his upper teeth and tongue, Hermione couldn't help but hiss at the exquisite pleasure-pain his mouth brought her. "Do you know how instantly hard you make me all the time?"
Her hips sped up, mindlessly so, as the two of his limbs wrapped around her waist pushed her down with every undulation. The one reaching across her bum still only skimmed her entrance.
"Push it in. Now." Hermione didn't think she would survive any more teasing.
He painted another circle around her opening. Her knickers were a hot mess by now, and she was sure her arousal was smeared inside her pyjamas, maybe even beginning to seep through the thin fabric.
"Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?" he mumbled as he released her breast with a soft pop. As he dipped one tip of the tentacle inside of her, he observed her face. He removed it before Hermione could revel in the feeling. Her entrance didn't stop tingling and she clenched around nothing. "All the teasing from you."
"Teasing? I made you come only a few moments ago, didn't I?"
Why didn't he just stuff her with that tentacle? Now was really not the time for banter. She finally wanted to have him inside, wanted to know if having his tentacles inside of her was as good in reality as they were in her fantasies.
He grinned unabashedly. "That you did." As soon as he had said it, the appendage slipped in.
The first inch was slim and didn't stretch her at all, but the appendage grew thicker, and undulated with every inch it pressed into her. The further it pushed in, the wider the girth became, until she strained around him. His sheer warmth elicited an uninhibited moan from her. There was a bump against her cervix that had her tense up with a wince, but Draco must have paid attention to her face. The pressure against her womb was promptly gone, leaving nothing but elation in its wake.
As Hermione teetered the delicious precipice between fulfilment and disappointment, she felt like the power of her climax might shatter her into a thousand pieces. Another breathless noise escaped her lungs. Every small rock of her hips pushed her higher, made her clit rub against the fabric of her underwear; still she wasn't falling over the edge yet, nor retreating and losing the orgasm, either. It was an unfamiliar limbo, almost more thrilling than the ecstasy of a climax itself.
Sweat dampened her forehead, droplets of it running down her temples. Draco's fingers left her nipple to gently wipe away her perspiration. He cupped her jaw again and leaned up to kiss her, never breaking eye contact. The whole affair was as intense as a severe fever but so much better.
The appendage began to thrust. It was nothing she'd experienced before, the writhing inside of her utterly alien and even more enthralling than she'd imagined. Hermione threw her head back in bliss. As the limb stroked and squirmed, it discovered every secret spot she had. Heavy pants fell from her lips. She was enamoured already; she could probably never go back to regular sex after this.
A faint voice in the recesses of her mind reminded her of just how loud she got. Her noises must have exceeded room volume. She burrowed her face into Draco's neck, but he would have none of it.
"You are too beautiful to hide," he said as he nudged her head up. As their eyes found each other again, his pupils were dark, deep wells surrounded by only a small rim of grey. A red tint flashed over them. "There you go. Keep your eyes on me."
"Too loud," she panted, her gaze fixed on him.
"Just right," he said, twisting the tentacle inside of her. Hermione couldn't help but shriek in delight as it skimmed several sensitive spots that nobody before him had stimulated. "Be as loud as you want. Let it out."
"The neighbours—"
"Will think you have an exceptionally attentive lover," he replied, the corners of his mouth tucking up. The limbs caressing her nipples rolled and flicked them with more force. The jolt of pleasure made her cunt flutter around the tentacle inside of her. He grunted and thrust harder.
With every passing second, she felt herself inching closer to release. She still couldn't believe she hadn't come all over him already. While a small part of her was pondering the long time it took her despite her incredible arousal, his appendage pressed into the elated patch on the roof of her channel. It was a hard pressure, with a clear added quality of vibration.
"Oh fuuu—" She threw her head back and cried out as her climax rushed through her. Thighs jerking without any control, she lost all sense of orientation. Her view whitened, lower body spasming, although she kept chanting his name as her hands clutched his horns. She didn't care in the slightest if she grabbed tufts of his hair with her grip. He groaned a bit, but didn't stop stroking her whole body with his hands and appendages, slowing down the thrusting of the one inside of her. The earlier frantic motions turned into soothing caresses.
Hermione gulped heavy breaths as her elation abated. Maybe it was possible to get fucked blind. After tonight, she thought it entirely plausible.
She dropped her sweaty forehead to his equally sticky shoulder when her hips finally eased their convulsions. Although she had lost all sense of time, it certainly must have been the longest and most intense orgasm she had ever had. With a deliberate exhale to get herself reacquainted with reality, she loosened the grasp of her hands on his horns. Strands of blond hair stuck to her damp palms. She winced in sympathy, but her apology drowned in another moan. The tentacle stayed inside of her, moving slightly as if it couldn't keep still. It made her want to go again immediately, but she was also completely wrung out and limp.
"Merlin," Draco uttered breathlessly, finally pulling his appendage out of her. The wet squelch would have embarrassed her if she had all her wits about her. Truth was, she had no mental faculties to spare on that right now; not when he was rearranging all of his limbs to encase her in a full-body hug.
She snuggled into him, closed her arms around his neck, and sighed in content. "Yeah."