A/N: In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the SensualSummerNights2021 collection.

Prompt:

Sensual Summer

Thanks to the mods for putting together this fest!

Thank you to my alpha/beta morriganmercy who helped me brainstorm this fic when I felt really discouraged to write it. It wouldn't exist without you.

Huge thank you to my beta sweeteangel1, the queen of kinky fics herself, who helped me take this to the next level. And for reminding me that knickers don't just disappear halfway through sex on their own; one must actually remove them or else leave your audience wondering where they went.

And as always massive thanks to photon08 who continues to want to read the silly wizard porn I write and make it better. Thanks for improving my work and reminding me that people only have so many hands and it's important to think through which limbs are where when it comes to acrobatic sex acts.

I hope you all enjoy this piece. Dramione lives in my heart rent free. Happy Sensual Summer!

The high noon sun glints malevolently as it shoots its death rays through the atmosphere, raising the temperature of my skin despite the lightweight material of my clothing. The waves envelop my body, trapping the heat and coaxing a thin sheen of sweat that dampens my neck. Ironic, really, that of all the things in the world it is light trying to do me in as I stand here at my auror partner's picnic-slash-barbecue. I'm struggling to justify joining the Light after the war when it has landed me in the seventh circle of hell masquerading as a birthday party. Potter would go and turn twenty-five in the middle of a blazing hot summer day. I cast a cooling charm wandlessly, but even magic can only do so much.

Of course, I'm also sweating because I know she's going to be here.

I feel like a lovesick schoolboy. I've seen her nearly every day since Potter and I became partners. She's always coming round to Grimmauld or popping into our shared office at the Ministry with petitions for whatever creature she's working on saving that day. Whenever she pushes open the door to find me alone in the office, she blushes so prettily and ducks her head, murmuring a soft hello from behind her curtain of caramel curls. I spend a lot of time thinking about that blush.

And her hair. Gods, it frames her face like an angel's halo and—

It's official. I sound like a lovesick schoolboy. But I don't care. Five years ago I started working with Harry, four years ago I first noticed she had freckles just across the bridge of her nose, and three years ago she started bringing an extra cup of coffee for me along with the one she brings Harry for their daily morning chat.

And there have been other signs, too. Little glances. Stares across the room. Brushes in the elevator. But it's been too bleeding long for this to keep going as it has been.

I have to know. I have to ask. I'm going to ask her today.

Definitely.

Probably.

Possibly.

Oh gods.

And then I finally see her, coming towards the waiting party while carrying an enormous golden cake. From the color alone I surmise it's meant to be a snitch, though the (attempted) shape certainly does it no favors. There's something endearing about the way she looks like she might drop it at any moment, as if it didn't occur to her to levitate it or put a featherlight charm on it, since it isn't a stack of books. It makes me smile.

But just a little. I don't want her to notice.

"Hermione!" Harry calls, walking up to help her carry his birthday cake to the table as the girl Weasley grabs plates and plastic cutlery from a bag next to it.

I stifle a laugh. That's Potter for you. Defeating the Dark Lord. Saving the world. Carrying his own damn cake.

I try not to stare longingly as she hugs everyone but me. When her eyes lock with mine, a redness tinges her cheeks and I have to wonder if we're having the same kind of thoughts. I saunter over, questioning whether I've committed myself to a plan that will end with me obliviating myself when it all goes to shit.

Probably.

"Granger," I say pleasantly, hoping that centuries of epigenetics help my features exude more confidence than I feel.

Her eyes widen. She always looks surprised when I speak to her. "Hello, Malfoy."

I grin at her—I can't help myself, my name falling from those perfect lips—my hands in my pockets as I take in her face, her hair, that damn purple and gold sundress.

"Did you bake that?" I gesture with my head towards the cake. The wings on the snitch are sliding pitifully lower by the minute.

She turns her chin up haughtily but I can see the smile tugging at her lips. I try not to glance down but she clasps her hands behind her back unhelpfully, pushing her breasts forward, and gives me her best Professor Granger tone.

"Yes, Malfoy, I did. In my family, I happen to be known for my baking skills."

I look at the sad, misshapen cake again and see she has drawn a smiley face onto the snitch's side. Merlin help me.

I bring my focus back to her and take a risk, looking her up and down before I lock eyes with her.

"I'm sure it tastes divine," I say, letting a hint of innuendo slip into my tone.

She falters a moment. "It does." She raises one eyebrow and I can see her struggling as she tries—and fails—not to give me a similar once over. I've worn this outfit on purpose. Just for her. Out of direct sunlight, the fabric isn't too hot, but it's cut in all the right places so she can see the outline of my muscles underneath. She stares a moment too long at my thighs—broom thighs, Pansy called them—and her cheeks flush. Oh, so Granger really does have a thing for Quidditch players then. Her history suddenly makes sense.

We are rudely interrupted by the actual party, and I spend the next two hours socializing with everyone Potter has introduced me to over the past five years. Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful that the wizarding world didn't throw me in prison for the rest of my life. That I was given a second chance. But I'm barely focused on the celebration, instead watching her the whole time.

She draws me in, like Icarus to the sun.

I'm willing to burn for her.

I watch her laugh, eyes crinkling as she throws her head back. And the way she walks, hips swaying in a way that makes my heart speed up. And how intensely she focuses as she cuts the cake into even slices, ever the perfectionist. And finally the sun is slipping just a little from its place at the center of the sky and I can't blame the heat for the sweat on the back of my neck anymore.

It's now or never. Do or die, Draco.

"Hermione." The use of her given name catches her off guard, and her arm freezes while bringing the ice cream cone to her mouth, staring at me with wide eyes.

I jerk my head to the side and start to walk. She follows as I lead her to the cool shade of a nearby tree.

She doesn't say anything, just looks up at me, and suddenly my mouth is parched.

"Do you—" I try and struggle to get it out. "Granger, we've been, it's been years. Since we hated each other."

"I never hated you," she interrupts.

"No, well, that's nice of you." My brain has forgotten how to be normal. Why can't I communicate? Why is it so hard to talk to the girl I fancy? "Um, what I mean is, we've both changed a lot since Hogwarts. Well, you haven't. I have. You're you. I—"

I swallow. This isn't going well. I try one more time.

"What I mean to say is, do you want—I've noticed at work, with the coffees—oh bugger it." I run my hand through my hair and watch as the vanilla ice cream starts to run down her knuckles. The visual is primitive but it makes me groan internally.

Which is nothing compared to the sound I make when she licks it off her fingers.

"Hermione please," I beg, stepping into her space. "If you don't want me to kiss you, tell me to stop."

She looks up at me, eyes wide as saucers, pupils blown with desire. "I want you to kiss me," she says, and it's whispered like a prayer.

My hands come up to cup her face and my mouth crashes down on hers. I'm trying to process our first kiss when she pushes her tongue into my mouth assertively. Holy hell, she really wants it. Heat spreads through us and this time, I welcome it. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I'm praying she can't feel my hands shaking on her face as I try to drink her in without combusting.

I can hear the chatter from the party faintly somewhere on the other side of the tree as she winds her arms around my neck and deepens the kiss. My hands wrap around her waist, feeling the sides of her body, and it's almost too much for me. I'm going to come in my pants if I don't slow down. Not exactly the impression I want to make.

I squeeze her sides just a bit and we seem to understand one another as I feel her knees bend and she jumps up to wrap her legs around my waist. Her hands around my neck. I press her back into the tree, my knee bent, thigh propping her up, and cast a quick notice-me-not around the area. A breeze picks up and cools our skin just a fraction, but her kiss warms me right back up again.

I feel the ice cream drip onto my shoulder and realize she's still holding it. I turn and pull her hand with the cone down to me, taking it.

"Allow me," I say, and use my free hand to turn her sticky palm towards me, dragging my tongue up the sugary sweet remnants of her dessert. Sucking her fingers into my mouth to clean them.

"Oh, fuck," she gasps, leaning her head back and closing her eyes, her mouth open.

I let them go with a pop and take a large lick off the top of the ice cream cone, immediately kissing her with it, the cold cream heating up between our mouths. It's sticky and sweet and I'm losing myself in her taste when she slips down the tree a bit and hisses as the bark presses into her back.

I smile apologetically, hoisting her back up and kissing her shoulders. I have to focus. I need this to be good for her.

She seems no less enthusiastic, tugging at my tie and the top buttons of my shirt to access my collarbones. She seems to like them, sucking bruises. Marking me. Go ahead, baby, I'm all yours.

I levitate the ice cream next to us and lean both hands against the tree on either side of her; her mouth is glorious on my skin.

She pulls back and her hands traverse her torso until she is cupping her breasts, squeezing them and biting her lip. "I know this is a little fast, but—"

"Anything you want," I rush out. And I mean it. She could ask for the fucking world and I would find a way to give it to her right now.

"I've just been thinking about this too long to take it slow. If you don't mind," she adds, cheeks flushing as she looks up at me through her eyelashes, and that damn blush is doing things to me again.

I unzip the bodice of her dress down the front—sending a mental thank you note to whoever invented zippered dresses—and pull her bra down until her breasts are sitting on the cups. They are divine.

"Fuck, Hermione," I breathe, and I feel her closed-mouth moan vibrate through her.

"Mmm, Draco, touch me, please."

I anchor my thigh beneath her bum and grab the ice cream cone. She watches me quizzically until I swoop the soft, cold swirl over her hard nipples.

She makes a sound I've only imagined in my bed at night and I duck my head to suck the ice cream off. The white milk against her nipples stirs a whole other desire in me that I'm not ready to examine.

I lick her clean and then toss the remainder of the cone to the side. She looks at it for a moment, forlorn, and I laugh.

"I'll get you another one," I say.

She smiles sheepishly and rolls her hips against mine.

"What do you want?" I ask. I'm going to make her say it.

She blushes—fuck—and leans into my ear. "I've been fantasizing about coming around your cock," she whispers, and I swear I nearly drop her from the shock as the blood rushes south and I desperately try to hold back from immediately unzipping my trousers and thrusting into her.

I manage to pull back and smirk, drawing out her embarrassment at being exposed. I have a feeling she'll like that. "Aren't you a dirty little girl, Granger?" The blush spreads. I try to sound scandalized. "Wanting me to fuck you with all your friends nearby when anyone could come over and find us?"

She's squirming on my thigh and it occurs to me that Granger might be an exhibitionist. Well fuck me, I wasn't counting on that, but I can certainly work with it.

"That's right, Hermione," I say into her ear as my fingers tread a path under her dress towards her center. "Anyone who walks by could see us right now, could see me with my hand in your knickers while you're moaning like a wanton little thing."

"But your hand isn't in my knickers yet," she whines, her head thrown back against the tree trunk.

I push the fabric aside and run my fingers along her soaking slit. Oh gods.

"Isn't it?" I tease.

"Fuck, Draco, please." She's arching towards my fingers but I want to hear it.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"Fuck, please, please I need to feel you inside me."

I push one finger slowly into her and for a moment I think I might have died and gone to heaven, for surely there isn't a mortal soul on earth who could feel this silken, this hot, this wet. And for me?

"Is this all for me, Granger?"

She nods emphatically, mouth open as she tries to ride my hand.

"So impatient," I say as I add another finger to stretch her.

"Yessss."

"Fuck, Granger, I need to taste you."

She nods and collides with my mouth again, kissing me. "Please."

"I'm going to push you up. Hook your legs over my shoulders."

Her eyes widen in disbelief, but she follows my instructions as I hoist her and she scrambles further up the tree, legs spreading around my face and over my shoulders. I press one arm up across her torso to hold her in place and cup her breast. She grabs on to my forearm, searching for purchase, one hand pulling her dress up to give me a better view. Impressive as ever, she wandlessly vanishes her knickers.

And she is divine.

Fuck I've never seen a pussy so pretty before, but of course the perfect girl has a perfect little cunt just waiting to be licked. I tilt my head back and look up at her, teasing. "Do you want it, baby?"

"Yes, please, fuck, Draco. Lick me, taste me, touch me."

I could get used to the sound of Hermione Granger begging for me to give her pleasure.

I'm glad she can't feel it, especially since I'm holding her up, but I'm trembling inside. Years of fantasies, erotic and domestic, push to the forefront of my mind and it's overwhelming. I almost disgust myself with how sappy it feels, but here we are, and she wants me as much as I want her and she's begging me to taste her.

Well I certainly can't disappoint.

I lean in, running my tongue slowly up the center of her folds, savoring all the sweet honey from her slit and continuing up until her clit is in my mouth and it occurs to me all over again that Hermione Granger's clit is in my mouth and she tastes So. Fucking. Good.

Her hands are tugging my hair but I don't mind. She can rip it out as long as she comes on my tongue.

I growl against her heat and she gasps, gripping my hair tighter. I can feel her body tightening beneath my hands and I slip my tongue into her slit, pushing it in and out of her in anticipation of what I'm going to do later.

"Draco—"

It's a whisper, but I hear it. She tenses and releases and she comes beautifully on my tongue.

Her juices slick my chin and I drink her in.

I look up at her hungrily. "I want you."

She nods, eyes glazed. She instinctively wraps her arms around my neck as I lift her down to my waist. Her legs wobble but she locks them.

I push up her dress, gods I've been dying to do this, and unzip my trousers. It occurs to me she hasn't even seen my cock yet, but hopefully there'll be time for that later.

I look into her eyes as I line myself up with her slit and raise my eyebrows. "Do you want me?" I ask.

"Yes," she sighs blissfully.

I hesitate, the head of my cock pressed against her folds. I'm frozen—it's too much. Am I really allowed this? Allowed her? How could I deserve her? What if she comes to her senses afterwards and I'm not what she hoped for? I don't think my heart could take it. But—

"Draco," she says in a sultry voice, nipping at my ear. "Just fucking do it already."

I look at her in surprise and find her smiling knowingly at me, and I know she wants me like I want her. This is just about us.

I slide in slowly, watching her face the entire time as she takes my length, her soft, wet walls clutching me and welcoming me and oh gods pulling me all the way in.

We both breathe heavily as I wait for her to adjust, and it's her who rocks her hips first. Claiming me. Seeking pleasure.

I bury my face in her neck and she sighs around me.

"Talk to me," she pleads.

"Does my girl need help turning that big brain off? Do you need to be fucked in public so you can't think about anything but how your friends could see you with my cock buried in your cunt at any moment?"

She mewls, so I figure I'm on the right track.

"Would you like that, love? If they came and watched? You want me to make you come in front of a crowd? They're just behind the tree, I'm sure Ginny and Harry wouldn't mind a little show."

"Yessss," she hisses, and I can feel her nearing the edge.

"You like that don't you? You want them to see me moving in and out of you while you drip down me. I bet even they would feel a little jealous watching you..."

She moans and I'm pretty sure I've struck gold.

"Oh that's it, isn't it," I'm pistoning faster, "you want them to be jealous and turned on watching you. You want Potter to put Ginevra on her knees so she can watch your little pussy get filled by me? You like knowing she can't have it because I'm yours, Hermione?"

Her moans get louder and she clamps down around me. She pulls my release from my body and suddenly I'm filling her. I gasp, clutching her, one with her. My fingers brush her stomach and it's only our first time but I'm already picturing my seed deep inside her again and again and her beautiful tits swollen with pregnancy, and then, oh gods, the fantasy combined with the memory of the ice cream painting a milky trail on those same tits draws out my orgasm. I don't think I've ever come so hard.

We're both gasping, clinging to each other, and I slowly pull back to look at her. Watching her face, I pull out and run my finger through her dripping slit. And bring it to my mouth.

Her eyes go wide as she looks at me like no one's ever dared to.

"You're the perfect summer treat, Granger," I say, swallowing our combined arousal.

She kisses me, pulling my head almost violently towards hers before she pulls back. "You'll have to see how I taste in autumn too."

"And winter."

"And spring."

"And maybe in front of an actual audience sometime."

Her cheeks go red and she looks around our surroundings in a panic.

"Relax, Granger, I put a charm up."

She immediately untenses.

"I'm going to put you down now," I say.

Once she's back on the ground she looks up at me with those perfect brown eyes and holds out her hand.

I take it. Of course I take it.

She smiles at me. Years of longing finally sated. For the moment anyway. There's always later, and tomorrow, and the next day.

I smile back.

We walk back towards the party hand in hand, and Ginny glances up at us as we re-enter.

Hermione doesn't notice; she's looking towards the dessert table and back at me.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Well, you did say you'd get me another ice cream. Join me for one?" She smiles coyly; anything for you, Granger.

"We can have ice cream any time you want."

She's beaming and I feel smug. My witch.

I look over at Ginny as Hermione leads us towards the cold summer treats. Ginny looks her up and down and smirks. I know she didn't see anything, but one look at Granger's hair—more wild than usual—gives us away.

I meet Weasley's stare and shrug, grinning. She gives me a nod of approval. I think this may be the best summer yet, and we're only just beginning.