Twenty-Eight
Day: 1462; Hour: 17
"See, the first couple nights we went to places that were empty. Remember what they said? They were going to send us to places that they knew were abandoned the longest or new locations that had turned "old" and were going to be, or already were, abandoned soon. That's why we didn't get anything. Then...bam. But now they know we're on to them, so they're packing up and moving on."
"Thanks for that, Justin," Hermione mumbles, plugging her nose as she steps closer to the body on the ground. "I think she was a Muggle. Jeans, blouse..." She can't make herself look at the face, because that makes it real.
"Could have been an Innocent." Justin shrugs, waits a beat, and then rushes on. "I mean, from the wizarding world. I'm really happy we aren't on the run from the Ministry and Order anymore, as we can do...this."
He levitates the woman, wrapping her up, and placing the Portkey on her without raising anything besides his wand. Hermione ignores it because she doesn't want anything to remind her of the way those bodies felt against her rubber gloved hands. He follows behind her as she enters a side room, both of them tearing through drawers to find any papers.
"You really scared us, Hermione. I mean, Ginny was really worried, but we told her - she was coherent, she wasn't bleeding, she's getting help from the best Healers in the world. But then she started talking about how that didn't help her family any and...you know. It was a bad subject."
"I'm fine."
"Now, yeah. But all of us, except Fitz of course, went to Mungo's after. Draco showed up too. I thought Harry and Draco were going to kill the Healer when she said we couldn't go into your room, and she wouldn't give information. Not even to Harry! Then everything went crazy in your room, and it took seven guards to hold us back - they had to use spells, you know."
"I was dying." She doesn't know why she admits to this, and she hurries to open more drawers to hide her face.
"I know," Justin whispers. "We all knew. Ginny and Lav were crying, Harry punched a guard in the face... It was... I..."
"Let's not talk about it, Justin."
"Okay." But he doesn't sound like he agrees, so she isn't surprised when he follows her out of the room and starts talking again. "Lupin gave Mungo's a list of who was allowed in your room. You could only have three, and he put him, Harry and Malfoy on it. Why... People weren't very happy when they found out Malfoy was on it. I mean, Harry had Ginny sneak in one time, but, you know. Malfoy went back every night but one, always before or after Harry. I-"
"Justin," Hermione sounds exasperated because she is. "You never babble on. Never."
She looks up from the empty drawers in the second room. The entire place was empty, left behind, and everything important was taken with whoever left. They still checked anyway.
"Sorry."
"No. What's wrong? Seamus? Are you worried?"
"No, he's supposed to be back tomorrow."
"Then wh-"
"I think I may have... I think I might have gotten pregnant." Hermione stares at him long enough for him to change his sentence. "I mean, that is, I think I got a girl pregnant. A woman, actually, because...well, yeah. Yeah."
Hermione stares at him with wide eyes for a moment before dropping them to his shoes, scratching her shoulder as a way to distract his attention from her awkwardness. She didn't even know he was sleeping with anyone. "Who?"
"Margarete Ust." He looks sheepish and Hermione actually chokes a little.
"What?"
"She... I don't know! I checked on her at Mungo's the next day after everything, and she was being released and... You know! Drinks, conversation, she...she was wearing this really pretty dress, and...you know!"
Hermione laughs. Justin blushes deeply. She laughs too hard, and she can't remember the last time she did, but it's uncontrollable. Justin's innocent face and endearing stuttering is covered by his hands, until she gets a hold of herself.
"I'm sorry. That was..." She has to trail off to stop herself from laughing again. "That was inappropriate."
"What do I do, Hermione? Marry her?"
"That's something you have to discuss with her."
"I... I don't think I'll make a very good father." He looks ashamed as he admits this.
"I think you'll make a wonderful father, Justin. There's not a person in any world who can know your heart and not love it." She pulls him into a hug, and his nerves clutch her shirt in his fists.
"How am I supposed to raise a child in a world like this?" His question rushes sadness toward her.
"The war is almost over. At least this part of it. That's why we fought at all, Justin. To not be afraid of this."
"I'm scared anyway."
Hermione nods and pulls him tighter. "I think that's okay."
Day: 1462; Hour: 20
She remembers Justin talking about how they were all there at the hospital with her, right outside the door. How in that desperate moment of loneliness, of fearing the end, it was her that didn't notice them and not them who weren't there. She smiles at them, perhaps too happily because they all look distinctly nervous when she walks out of the room.
Day: 1462; Hour: 22
Hermione is aware of Harry's eyes on her back as she walks into Draco's room and shuts the door, blushing. The blond doesn't even look up from his notebook, and she almost expects Harry to start knocking. Instead, she hears the soft click of his own bedroom door shutting down the hall.
She sits on the bed and watches Draco as he tries to puzzle something out. She wonders how he felt when he found out Lupin suspected their friendship to go even beyond her and Ginny's - she wonders how she feels about it, even. There is a lot she should probably think about in the recent developments between them, especially in his actions. Like framing the photo, or showing up at St. Mungo's so many times, his jealousy, how Justin said he was angry when he couldn't get into the room the first night, or how he lets her sleep beside him for the purpose of just sleep. But she feels overwhelmed by the idea of picking these things apart, and she mostly just wants to take them and know they are there. That, maybe, Draco Malfoy cares about her, just a little.
Hermione isn't one who likes to jump to conclusions though. She likes hard, solid facts that don't have to be picked apart. Things that are picked apart only produce theories, and theories should never be taken as fact, especially when it came to the blond sitting across from her. Besides, being analytical about this felt too taxing when she has so many other things to hate, and fear, and worry about. It feels like she doesn't have enough time to think, only do.
All the same, Hermione did not enter the room tonight with just the intention to sleep. She found herself...but even the word makes her roll her eyes and blush a little. Not because she's that much of a prude, at least she doesn't think so, but because the word sounds so immature, even in her own head. She just found that she needed...a release, of sorts.
She is at a loss of how to show this. One of them usually just grabs the other, and then a kiss quickly turns into something much more. But she has kissed him first with that being the intention a handful of times. It is almost embarrassing how many times he took the initiative, because Hermione views herself as a fairly strong, take-charge woman. When she had taken charge with the intention of sex, he had been walking past her in an empty hall, coming in the door of an empty house, or coming out of sleep. She likes to think of them as surprise attacks.
Now he's just sitting there in his corner across the room, deeply involved with whatever he is doing, and not even looking at her. She wonders if the new habit of sleeping together to sleep has put some sort of dullness to their...need for a release, of sorts. Like a downfall to their hunger, and for being lovers and not even a couple let alone married, it is rather pathetic. She pauses in thought, realizing that if they were just lovers and now not having sex, that really meant they weren't lovers at all. She feels a bit panicked by the thought. Most of their interaction had to do with sex, it was the motivating force behind the progress they made to become friends. She-
"Granger, if your own thoughts cause you to make that face the past five minutes, I really would hate to be inside your mind for even a moment."
She jumps, focusing back on his face and laughs nervously. He gives her a look like he's still questioning her mental health, and he probably is. His eyebrow does a slow climb before he turns his attention back to the notebook. It's a new one, she notices.
She scans her head for something to say to bring his attention back, or an excuse for something that she was thinking. But she doesn't really have the nerve to say she was thinking something dirty. She dismisses the thought of asking if he wanted to before it's even completely formed, because there was no passion in such a thing. Going over there and kissing him would be awkward with his intensity on the notebook.
Searching her mind for something useful, she almost laughs when she thinks What Would Lavender Do? The question is absurd, and she doubts she could ever forgive herself if she followed that thought process. But Hermione Granger refuses to turn around and go to sleep, because it is a puzzle in front of her, and she likes puzzles.
The thought of Lavender still forces a memory to emerge despite denying that line of thought. Hermione blushes and looks up at Draco as if he could read her mind, but he's still concentrating elsewhere. It's probably very corny, and it's probably been done a billion times, and he probably won't even notice - but, really, she hasn't got anything better to work with. She also has a feeling he is going to know exactly what she's up to if he does notice, no matter how hard she tries to play it off, but that couldn't be helped either.
She actually has to convince herself that he likes her body before she stands up. Hermione is confident in her mind, and her body - not in health, but in attractiveness to others - she had always told her herself was far less important. Except, of course, in moments like this where her mind failed her and her body was what was left. If she hadn't been involved with Draco for...God, it was over a year now since he first kissed her, she wouldn't have been so bold.
She takes her shirt off first, letting it drop to the ground, and not looking to see if he has noticed. If he hasn't, she'll probably retire to sleep and call it a good try. Unbuttoning her jeans, she pulls the zipper down quick, and it's loud enough that she doubts he hasn't at least looked up at the sound. She hums in her head to distract herself from his silence. Her curiosity still gets the better of her when she hooks her thumbs into the waist of her pants, and her gaze darts up toward him with absolutely no permission from most her mind.
He's not looking at her, but rather her chest, and she notices that she's giving him a rather liberal look, bent over as she is to pull her pants down. His notebook is open on his lap, his hand holding a few sheets of parchment frozen over a stack of them at his side. She blushes despite herself, looking down at the uneven wood of the floor as she pulls her pants down to her ankles. She makes sure not to do it with any finesse, because Hermione doesn't think she's a real Hum Porn Music While Dancing and Stripping sort of girl.
She looks up from peeling her sock off at the sound of a small thud, and doesn't really know how nervous she was that he would ignore her until he doesn't. The parchment is now out of his hand and she is guessing the thud was from his notebook hitting the stack of papers at his side. His legs are stretched out in front of him now, his back and head leaning against the wall, and he looks completely relaxed as he watches her. It makes her more nervous. Shouldn't this be where he makes his way over?
She almost chickens out when she stands upright but his eyes connect with hers and she doesn't. She knows that look, dreams about it even, and so she reaches behind her for the clasp on her bra. She stops instead, contemplating, and acts on impulse as she begins walking over toward him. She straddles his lap and watches his gaze drift down her body as she sits.
He still doesn't move, his hands against the floor at his sides, but there's a hardness under her that convinces her to keep going even with his unwillingness to join in. She hopes she's not making a fool of herself, more so now that her flimsy excuse of getting ready for bed is gone. But he would have stopped watching if he hadn't been interested, and this was just another situation that Hermione can't see through his steel skull - or where she's still learning the way he likes to play.
She reaches behind her for the clasp again, undoing it this time. She's slow to pull it off, and when she drops it down on top of his notebook she can see his fingers clench against the floor. She hadn't thought the knickers situation out before she sat however, and she stays still in a moment of awkwardness. She probably looks stupid as she reaches forward, grasping his shoulder and pushing herself back up to her feet.
She's a bit in his face, but she reminds herself of his apparent fondness for such a thing, and colors a deeper red as she begins pulling her underwear off. She keeps herself steady with his shoulder, and it tenses under her palm as she pulls her knickers off one leg and then the other. She swears she hears him groan when she stands up again, dropping the blue-striped cloth to the opposite side as her bra.
He still doesn't move when she sits down again, though he is harder and he's breathing quicker. She cocks her head at him, his eyes intense and dark on hers, and she wonders if Draco is the sort of man who likes to be tied up. That is really what he's doing, but without the binding, like he is testing his own restraint. The game, in that case, was to get him to break.
Hermione bites her lip and reaches down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. His arms move up in response, but he's no help in removing it. The second it clears his arms, his hands are back on the floor again. Hermione hums, and glares at him when he smirks - it cements her determination.
She runs her hands across his shoulders and scratches down his chest, pressing kisses to his neck. Her mouth finds the spot beneath his jaw that never fails to cause a reaction, and she sucks, biting down as she rocks herself forward against his erection. He moans and bucks up, his body tightening under her hands. The fabric of his jeans feels odd, but not entirely unpleasant, and so she does it again. When he tries to rock up in return she raises herself to her knees, denying him.
There's a powerful feeling blossoming inside her, and she thinks she likes this game after all. Her self-consciousness always stole her motivation to stay in a position of power too long, and though she is still unsure of what she should do next, she likes the challenge. She likes being the one to lead where this is going and be the one in control.
She pulls her mouth away from him and leans back, looking at him as she scrapes her nails through the trail of hair leading to his waistband. His cheeks are just beginning to flush, but she wants him red in the face and his eyes glazed. Unbuttoning his pants and unzipping him, he lifts his bum off the floor as she tugs his pants down. She sits just below his knees and runs her hands up his thighs, edging her fingers between his thighs and his boxers. Sometimes he wears these, or boxer-briefs, sometimes nothing - she's never told him she likes him in all three.
Leaning forward, she kisses his chest, running her tongue in circles around his nipples as her hands slide further up. She reaches until she is almost there, and then pulls her hands out, reaching for the waistband instead. Draco grunts and she smiles, releasing his nipple from her mouth as she pulls back. He's glaring at her this time as he lifts his hips and she's careful in dragging his underwear off. She leaves it down around his calves, knowing he'll kick it off later himself, and takes her seat beneath his knees again.
She puts a hand right above his knee, sliding it up his thigh as she leans forward, struck by inspiration because she knows he likes watching her do this. She's still blushing about it, but she pretends he knows it's just her arousal. Tracing her index finger around the line of his lips, she rests it on his bottom lip and waits. He reacts quickly, moving his head to take her finger in his mouth. He sucks on it hard, and then circles his tongue around it, powerful strokes up the length of it. The eagerness with which he does it, the almost angry swirls of his tongue, and the raw way in which he looks at her sends her stomach clenching. She grips his thigh hard on reaction and breathes in deep as she becomes even more turned on. His tongue is proving what he's not letting his hands, his eyes tearing holes in her.
She pulls her finger back, a little short of breath, and he watches its journey to her nipple. She circles, pinches, pulls, and then cups her breast with a moan. She lets go of his thigh, purposely brushing against his erection and it jerks against the side of her hand. She lifts her other finger to his mouth, and his eyes are back on hers as he laves it. He nips the tip of her finger as she pulls it out, and watches as she brings it down to her breast.
"Do you have any idea how ready I am right now?" It took her three minutes to actually convince herself to say this. Draco groans, his eyes tracking downward.
She licks her palm and reaches for him, silk over steel, and touches him in all the ways she knows he likes. He groans again, deeper, and his eyes fall shut as his head thuds back against the wall. It looks like an effort for him to lift his head and look at her again, his hips moving in time to her hand. She stops when his lips part and his breathing is shallow pants. His face is red, his eyes are glazed.
She moves up his lap, bending to kiss his neck again, swirling her tongue in circles to the spot beneath his ear. She sucks and laves, reaching down between his thighs, and she can see his hand lift, drop, lift, and drop again to the floor. She smiles to herself, her heart beating wildly as she pulls back and puts two fingers against his bottom lip. His expression screams need, but he glares at her and doesn't take her fingers in his mouth because he's a smart man, and he knows what her next move is.
She removes her hands from him, one cupping her breast and the other to her mouth as she sucks on the fingers herself. She sucks hard, her cheek hollowing in imitation. She had contemplated it, but she would prefer him to break inside of her rather than in her mouth. She releases her fingers with a pop as she studies the color of his eyes. Dark grey, his pupils dilated, and a look that makes her feel like she's burning up inside in the best way. She drops her hand and pushes one finger inside herself, then the second after a stroke. She moans, rising up higher on her knees, and moans again when Draco's mouth attacks her nipple. She breathes out harshly, raising her free hand to clutch the back of his head.
"Oh, Draco."
He's breathing out hard from his nostrils, the coolness of his breath sending goosebumps across her heated skin. She opens her eyes to the top of his head in time to see his arm raised, hesitant in the air. She moves quickly, reaching down to grasp him again with his hips jerking up and a deep, guttural sound echoing across her skin. She moves her fingers up to the nub that sends her falling forward into him, choking on his name. She lowers herself down until just the tip of him is inside of her, and then pulls up, both of them groaning. Her body is shaking with the determination to not give in to her more basic urges and she can feel him trembling against her as well. She repeats the action a second time, but when she goes to pull up she is slammed all the way down, and she cries out over his own reaction, knowing he has finally caved.
"Jesus Christ, Hermione." His fingers squeeze into her hips as he brings her back down again, thrusting up at the same time and making her cry out too loudly. His voice is deep, rasping; a favorite sound.
"About time, Draco. I was about to... Oh, my God. I was about to...ugh. Jesus, yes." She's glad he keeps hitting that spot within her for several reasons, but trying to speak at the same time isn't a good idea.
"I couldn't...fuck." Not for him, either.
He grabs her hand off his shoulder, still wet from being inside of her, and sucks the digits into his mouth this time. Hermione can't keep herself from making those little ngh, nuh, nugh sounds she does whenever she is in pain or this, the exact opposite of such a vulgarity. His moans vibrate against her fingers and he anchors an arm around her waist, moving in a way that suggests he's finally kicking his boxers off.
She pulls her fingers out of his mouth and kisses him, his tongue hot and demanding as he moves her onto her back. His hands slide up the back of her thighs and under her kneecaps, preventing her from wrapping them around him. He pushes them forward, driving deeper, and she cries out so loudly she slaps her arm over her mouth. He bites the other side and she moves it, thrusting her tongue into his mouth when his lips meet hers.
She comes with a scream into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment she thinks she might black out, as her head explodes off into some world that only he can bring her to. She comes back to reality when his cheek slides against hers, his face dropping to her shoulder. His weight is pressed into her, his body trembling, and she's distantly upset that she missed him getting off. It is one of her favorite things to do.
"I might have liked that game," she admits through her panting, and he laughs through his own.
Day: 1463; Hour: 5
Draco is still asleep when she wakes, his face turned away from her and buried in the pillow, static locks of white hair sticking up in every direction. There's a faint glow to light the room but no real color, and she knows dawn is just arriving outside the windows. She's only just awake, barely able to form coherent thoughts, and already her heart was thumping nervously.
She had been thinking about doing this for a while now. She had visualized it in great detail - mostly aided by a very interesting magazine collection she had found in Ron's room a couple years ago - and had accepted that she probably wouldn't like it. She had done very embarrassing things involving her mouth and some choice vegetables that she would never, ever, ever tell anyone about. Ever. The only thing truly holding her back was the idea that she probably wouldn't be very good at it, and that was a hard thing to accept for Hermione Granger.
Practice did make perfect. It certainly wasn't the first time she found herself in a new situation with Draco, and it wasn't likely to be the last. Unfortunately, with this, she didn't have his amazing ability to make her forget to think anything, let alone what she was doing. She had debated doing it for some time now, and though it wasn't something he ever asked of her, it's something she wants to do. As long as she abides by one basic rule, she figures the most harm done could be her embarrassment if he pulls her away. She has learned that he won't make fun of her for anything she doesn't know, or does incorrectly, in this part of her life.
She is surprised he doesn't wake up when she shifts her leg from between his to the other side, pulling the sheets over her head and sliding down the bed. He sleeps too lightly most days, and while she would like him to wake up some time in the process, in the beginning wasn't part of the plan. She's a little scared, which is okay because she's still going to do it, but she doesn't know if she could manage if he was aware the entire time.
She pushes herself down until she's lying between his sprawled legs, one hand holding herself above him and the other pushing her hair from her face. He's still breathing deep and evenly, asleep, but she's far more concerned with the penis in front of her face. The head, the veins, the testicles, the pubic hair. A typical penis, really. No crookedness, odd birthmarks, scars. Just any sort of penis she might see had she gone to Muggle school, enduring sexual education classes. Inside was the same basic makeup she had seen on posters at the doctor's office.
She was looking at this too literally, and she doesn't know if that's the sort of mood she should be setting in her mind. Sure, it was a bit different. If only because this was the penis, to her. The one she had felt against her back, her stomach, thrusting into her hip. The one she had touched, had needed, had even begged for. This is the one she has felt inside of her, the part of Draco that at times becomes part of her, and does things that completely make her lose control. That makes her feel so good she thinks she's going to have a heart attack, that her mind will explode, that she'll set on fire and not even notice or care.
Her breath comes a little quicker and she has to push herself up so she's not so close to his skin. That was better, yes. It would be good to try and enjoy this rather than feel like she was trying to swallow a science project. She just had to go for it really.
It's soft in her hand, sticky from a few hours ago, though it isn't that big of a deal because she had tasted herself before. On her fingers, on his, in his mouth - she had gotten rather used to it, in fact. She lowers herself down to her forearm, only distantly aware that she's arching an eyebrow at it, before sticking out her tongue to lick the tip. It's pretty smooth and interesting, the feel of it, and she's immediately curious about the rest.
She grips the base more firmly, wrapping her fingers around it again, and licks her lips, remembering the way she kept her lips on her practice items to prevent any teeth grazing. She lowers her head, putting the tip into her mouth, and stares at his bellybutton as she swirls her tongue around it. It isn't until after she does it a second time that she sees his stomach collapse on a breath, and realizes that he hadn't been breathing before.
He's already awake then, of course. This is a man that reaches for his wand when the floor squeaks right outside of the door in the middle of the night. She doesn't even know how he sleeps through the supposed noises she makes when she's asleep. Maybe he only wakes up when things are unfamiliar. This would be one of those, and he's up sooner than she hoped, but later than she expected.
She swirls her tongue around him again, again, and then sucks. If he makes a sound she can't hear it over the loud fan in the corner, but she can see the sheet curl up by his hip, the outline of his fingers in a fist. She's feeling very shy now, which is quite ridiculous, as she takes the soft length of him into her mouth. She's pretty sure she's blushing, and she has to close her eyes to distract herself from wondering if it was going badly. She concentrates on the feel of it inside her mouth, hardening under the strokes of her tongue, the head knocking against her throat. She tightens her lips around him, sucking hard as she raises her head.
Hermione isn't sure if he lets out a hard breath or says the beginning of her name, but it makes her open her eyes as his hips shift. She pulls him out of her mouth with a pop, watching his stomach cave in and then rise, his fingers twitching on his chest. She eyes the vein that runs under and cocks her head, licking up from her thumb at his base to the very tip. He grunts when she reaches the skin between the head and the shaft, so she licks it again. On the third one he groans, and his fingers uncurl from his chest, reaching out toward her before pressing hard into his skin. It reminds her of a cat, stretching out its claws.
Taking a breath, she pumps him with her hand and licks her lip. He tastes of sweat, and her, and him, and it's really not as bad as she thought it might be. She looks down and eyes his testicles critically, trying to remember what the girl in the magazine had done. She reaches forward with her free hand, cradling them in her palm, the skin tighter now than it had looked earlier. She pulls them down gently, but stops when he grunts, not knowing if it's from pleasure or discomfort. He flexes his hips and so she tugs again, and his hand repeats the claw movement. She takes this for a good sign, and she angles her head to tug and lick, his thighs tensing at her shoulders.
She pulls back to look up at him, far harder in her hand that he had been, longer and the head bigger. She leans over to the inside of his thigh and kisses his skin, nipping it like he has done so many times to her, before returning her mouth to his penis. She thinks penis may be too clinical, but dick sounds silly in her head. Perhaps she'll say cock, and she wonders if he would be amused or something else if she did. Broomstick, weener, manhood, long johnson, hotdog, wand, quivering loins.
She laughs at the last one, his head in her mouth, and he moans loudly before she can stop herself. She looks up in the surprise and he mutters something above her, just a gurgle of whispers under the fan and sheet. Hermione takes pride in being a bit of a quick learner, so she lowers her head, taking in more of him, and pressing her tongue up against him.
"Hmm?" She draws this out and he groans.
"Fuck," he says darkly, his voice rough and the way she likes it, followed by a string of other words she can't hear.
Then his hand lifts from his chest, the bed wobbles under his movement, and then the sheet is gone. Hermione looks up in a mix of surprise and feeling like she just got busted for something he already knew she had been doing. His eyes meet hers and he groans without her even moving, his gaze dropping and more intent on looking where her mouth is than anything else. She flushes, just lying there with him in her mouth for several seconds. She had been hoping he would leave the sheet down, instead of staring at her.
She is very conscious of his gaze as she drops hers back to his stomach, resuming her task of sliding her mouth up and down as much of his length as she can handle. She really can't imagine that it's anything pleasant to watch, but then she remembers the way she watches sometimes. The way he'll catch her looking and will raise up on his arms so she can see where the two of them are joined, and how he watches too. Maybe it's something like that.
He lifts her hair, gathering it with both of his hands and piling it on top of her head until he can manage to hold it with only one. The other slides down the sides of her face, over her indented cheek, and she pauses until his knuckles brush along her jaw and to the nape of her neck. For a second she thinks he might try to push her down more, to put more of himself inside her mouth, and she knows she'll gag if he does. She squeezes her hand on him in response, and when he makes a little sound above her, she does it again. His hand keeps going, down between her shoulder blades, pressing into her, fingers outstretched to touch as much of her as he can.
She still feels awkward with him watching her, hoping that she was doing this right and in a way that looked remotely attractive. She tugs with one hand, pumping with the other, and bobs her head, exploring the texture and ridges with her tongue. He moans and flexes his hips, causing her to gag a little, and she sucks harder, moving faster.
"He...'ione," he pants and grunts her name, bringing her eyes back to his.
She blinks at him, startled by the intimacy of the act that just now hits her. His neck is flushed; lips parted and wet, his eyes bright and trained on her. His fingers are ghosting back up her cheeks, gentle in contrast to how hard she is stroking her tongue. She almost grins at knowing that she has done this to him, and that it's not from the mutual give and take of sex, but something she has done just for him. She's starting to understand why he likes giving her oral sex so much, and if her mouth wasn't so occupied, she might be flashing that smirk of satisfaction that he gives her.
"Solve...arith...prob..." He moans when she hums a laugh at his half-formed words. "Like a...fucking...ingredients...secret potion."
She raises an eyebrow at him saying something about potion ingredients at this very moment, and he growls in response. She has no idea what he's on about, but she never could have imagined how very turned on she would be doing this. Paying homage to one of her favorite parts of his anatomy was one thing, but his reactions from the noises he makes to the way he looks at her is enough to make her feel dizzy. She also likes the feeling of power and satisfaction that comes over her, knowing that she can make him lose control of himself. She can watch him openly now, unhindered by her own physical pleasure, and she somehow feels closer to him than before they had fallen asleep that night.
She's so busy burning everything to her memory that she forgets to feel uncomfortable. He certainly wasn't, even with himself so on display. When they first started this relationship he preferred to hide his face from her. Now he can't stop staring at her, and she can't stop taking it all in. She never thought giving someone oral sex would be anything more than an unpleasant obstacle to deal with, if she couldn't avoid it all together. She can't always be right about everything, she concedes, despite the ache creeping up in her jaw.
His control deteriorates the longer she goes, though she's too focused on him to know how long it has been. She pays attention to the noises he makes to know how he likes it and what he likes, and if it weren't for how tired her mouth was getting, she would draw this out for hours, maybe.
His hand is fisted in her hair, pulling it tight against the scalp, the other one clenched onto her arm. She had reached up across the expanse of his stomach and chest to rub and pinch his nipples when she saw him start to do it himself. She rather liked the idea that every bit of his pleasure was coming from just her. She loves the approving noises he makes deep in his throat and the whole array of aroused sounds he can't help.
His hips are moving in shallow thrusts, his breath coming fast, and he's practically writhing on the bed. Besides a few backward jerks of his head his eyes haven't left the vicinity of her face. They remind her of the river behind her parents' house, the stones under clear, sparkling, rushing water. She would collect them in her hands, these dirty pretty things, in the summers when all she needed was wet feet and the sun. When everything was beautiful, and new, and there were no limits to the happiness she could own.
"Hermione." She loves the way he says her name when he's like this.
"Mmhm," and she gags when he thrusts deep, moaning and pulling her hair.
That seems to be the end of it for several rapid breaths, but then he tugs on her arm twice, making her stop all movement. "I'm going to come."
His voice is husky and rough, and she wants to say something just to keep him talking. She pulls her head up, moving her jaw from side to side once he's out of her mouth. "I believe that's the point, Draco."
She can't help the bossy tone or the roughness to her own voice. He stares back at her for several seconds as if she said nothing at all. It's as if her words had to be filtered through the haze and into coherency in his mind before he could understand them. Oh, she likes this a lot.
"Shit, Granger," and for a second she thinks he's angry. "Please tell me you still have your Hogwarts uniform."
"What?" She has no idea why he would want to bring that up now. "It's in my bedroom at Grim-"
"Thank you, Merlin."
She blinks at him until he shifts beneath her, and she figures it's more important to take care of the throbbing erection in front of her face than ask him what the hell he was on about. Oral sex caused Draco Malfoy to lose his mind, apparently. She might have been worried if she weren't so pleased.
He groans when she lowers her mouth on him again, the elbow he had raised himself up on wobbling before he fell back onto the bed with a jerk. She sucks hard, stroking fiercely with her tongue, and matches the jerking of her hand to the speed of her bobbing. She ignores her tired jaw and starts humming when he begins thrusting again, feeling him pulse against her tongue, his fingers clenching hard into her arm and hair.
"Fuck...shit..."
She's prepared herself for any reaction, so she expects it when he rams himself off the back of her throat, his body arching off the bed with a loud moan crammed into his mouth from biting his lips together. She continues to suck until his hips collapse back onto the bed, taking in every detail she can, his come salty and strange on her taste buds. She starts to pull her mouth away when his hand relaxes the death grip on her hair, his air leaving him in a huff. She inhales quickly through her nose when he raises his head, having always found him beautiful post-orgasm.
She releases him from her mouth, using the hand that he wasn't holding to him and raising it to her lips, trying to prevent anything from falling out. She catches some against her lips, swallowing the rest. It isn't as unpleasant as she had thought, and he gives her a look that he sometimes gives her when her back hits a wall or she breaks apart around him - she still doesn't know what it means.
She licks her lips, and when he gives her a rogue grin, his eyes still shining like the stones, she can't help but laugh and grin back. She feels elated - though she doesn't really know why - and turned on. She's also a bit proud of herself.
He laughs too, perhaps because her grin is a bit wolfish, and gives a tug to her hair to motivate her climb up his body. He lets go of her arm to wrap his own around her waist when her face is in front of his, pulling her against him and off of her raised hand. He kisses her then, his tongue owning her mouth and obviously not caring about the taste. She wonders if he gave up too much control to not take some back now, but this is perfectly okay with her.
He pulls back with a nip to her bottom lip, but she speaks before he can. "Happy Birthday, Draco."
He looks startled for a moment, which is somehow adorable and attractive at the same time. "It's not my birthday."
"Yes, it is."
"No...but feel free to do that again when it is." He leans in to bite her neck, grinning against her skin when she moans.
"No, really... I-" She cuts off on a whimper when he slides his hand down her backside to feel around her entrance.
He growls under the noise she makes, and she can feel it rumble in his chest beneath her. "You got so wet from sucking my cock, didn't you?"
"Jesus," she groans against his shoulder, part embarrassment and the rest at how good it felt.
"You have no idea-"
"Wait, Draco," she breathes, lifting her head and trying to remember something important.
He raises his eyebrows at her, sliding his hand back up to squeeze her bum, and then rolls them over. Her obvious arousal at getting him off seemed to turn him on enough to warrant silence, and he looks as if he's planning a mission. He palms her breast, and she nearly forgets again.
"I saw it, on the calendar, at..." She breathes in sharply, because his fingers are just as magical as the rest of him. "Today is your birthday. Promise."
His half-hooded eyes widen slightly, and he looks perplexed for a moment before dropping his head to her neck again. He sucks a spot beneath her achy jaw, then trails hot kisses down her skin. He pauses, his mouth hovering just far enough over her skin for his breath to tickle her. He had discovered this particular weakness months ago - at times he did it on accident, but the few times it happened were usually on purpose. She can't stop herself from giggling, and when she raises her shoulder to block him out, he nudges it out of the way with his chin. She finds it annoying, which he likes, but it's one of the only playful things he does, so sometimes she secretly likes it.
"You're positive?" She can hear the smirk.
"Yes," she laughs, and grabs both sides of his face, pulling him away from her neck.
He kisses her shortly, tugging on her lip before pulling back to look at her. "Well, shit," he pushes his tongue into his cheek, shrugs a shoulder, and then it's his turn to grin wolfishly at her. "Whatever shall I do to celebrate?"