Chapter 4

Crawl?

Ah.

Malfoy was back to degrading her. If Hermione crawled over to him, she would be on her knees in front of him. He'd tell her to suck him off. Prior to fetching his Firewhisky, she had admitted that a part of her wanted to. What else could he be thinking?

Dread spread throughout her body and made the hair of the back of her neck stand on end. Would he force himself into her mouth? Make her gag? That could very well constitute hurting her a bit.

Or maybe he would have her do something else entirely. Merlin! She hated how he set up these situations. She expected the worst, but then he'd pull the rug out from under her and make her service him in some other degrading, albeit benign way.

He watched the emotions play across her face as she considered the situation.

"You can hex my balls off and walk away," he reminded her in a challenging tone. Like he was calling her a coward for not crawling to him to suck him off. "You offered me this evening, Granger. You could have thought of something else." He took another sip and smiled smugly. "Not that I'm complaining."

She didn't want to argue with him about this anymore. He'd made his point, she'd made hers.

"Stop talking, Malfoy."

"Not bloody likely." He grinned and twirled her knickers again.

"Prat," she grumbled under her breath.

He sipped his Firewhisky silently. Patiently waiting, as if he had all the time in the world.

Okay.

She was going down on him. No big deal. He was an eighteen-year-old male, he obviously wanted her, and he had been sporting an erection for at least thirty minutes now. Theoretically, it shouldn't take long, and then he'd be out of commission for a period of time. The general mechanics of a blow job didn't seem too difficult; Hermione knew what it would entail. She'd heard enough from her more sexually active dorm mates in Gryffindor tower.

She could do this. She eyed her glass. Liquid courage.

She threw back the Firewhisky and closed her eyes at the delicious burn as it slid down her throat, warming her belly. She opened her eyes to see Malfoy watching her appreciatively.

"You are entertaining, Granger."

"That was much better than I thought it would be," she admitted, surprised at how smooth the alcohol had gone down.

"It should be," he snorted. "That bottle is a far cry from the broomstick varnish they serve at the Leaky Cauldron." He motioned to her with his glass. "You can take a bit more; you didn't have much. Even for a lightweight."

He'd phrased it as a suggestion and not a command. She was both surprised and grateful for the option. Carefully, she poured herself a tiny amount and looked up at him in question. He nodded approvingly.

Their interaction over the Firewhisky was a weird reprieve from the tension that had been building between them since the evening started. Like when he healed her. It was almost as if he wasn't coercing her into performing sexual acts.

She made to knock the whisky back again when he called out to her. "That's a 300 Galleon bottle. It's meant to be savored." His gaze slowly trailed down her body and slithered back up again before he added: "Like anything else of quality." He eyed her while taking a drink from his glass, and licked the whisky from his lips.

"I didn't know you were so cliché, Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, uncaringly. Although, she had to admit, savoring her was exactly what he seemed to be doing. He wasn't in a rush to do anything. He was taking his time, building up the tension between them. When she had first seen his erection, she'd thought they would be having sex immediately. Instead, he'd just carried his desire around with him. Waiting. Building the anticipation even more. Teasing and intimidating her with his arousal.

Hermione sipped at her drink and watched him lick his lips again. After savoring the flavor as he'd suggested, she set the glass down.

"Ready?" he asked with a smirk. The warmth in her belly spread. She did feel a bit calmer, less inhibited. She wasn't shaking anymore and had to admit: a bit of Firewhisky had definitely helped. Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Crawl," he repeated, shoving her knickers back into his pocket.

She took a deep breath, sunk to the floor, and began to crawl over to him. There wasn't much to ogle. Her backside wasn't facing him and her blouse was buttoned up. But, as with the other tasks she had performed, the purpose was very clearly to degrade her in service of him. That was his modus operandi for the evening, and what she could continue to expect.

On her hands and knees, she crawled across the room, approaching his legs. He carelessly leaned against the back of the sofa, both hands in his pockets now that he had finished his Firewhisky and levitated his glass back to the counter. She eyed his erection as she closed in, remembering how she had exposed the tip of his cock while massaging his pelvis.

Hermione thought of the sounds he might make. He'd been extremely vocal during her massage, and part of her wanted to hear how he would be when she touched him so intimately. Her core began to feel empty with want again.

She arrived at his shins and stopped, nervous and not knowing what to do next. Without preamble, Malfoy grabbed her school tie and yanked. She gasped in surprise as the tie pulled on her neck, forcing her to look up at him. She clutched the material of his trousers to support herself as he dragged her up. He only stopped when her face was the same height as his erection. He stared down at her. She was sure she looked a mess: face flushed, eyes wide, lips falling open into an O of surprise.

Removing his other hand from his pocket, Malfoy grasped the back of her head and threaded his fingers into her hair, undoing her plait. He moved to cup the back of her head with his palm, and then hesitated. Unsure of what he wanted now and still suspended by her tie, Hermione let out a muffled whimper.

The noise was cut off when he suddenly pressed her face into his crotch, rubbing her nose, mouth, and cheek over his erection. She gasped and shifted her hands to grip the sides of his thighs in surprise, inhaling his musky scent. He moaned softly at the contact and she felt a slight tremor in his hips. After a few moments, he released her and returned his hand to his trouser pocket. Jerking away and pulling against the tie, Hermione inhaled deeply and licked her lips.

"Off." She could hear his throat constrict around the word.

She looked up at him. His expression was dispassionate, eyes shining through his fringe hanging down over his brow. She thought of her wand on the kitchenette. She could hex him. She didn't have to do this. But then she'd never get her bag back, would she? She might be able to Obliviate him if she overpowered him, but she wouldn't get her bag.

Horcruxes.

She could do this if she approached it mechanically. He wasn't there. It wasn't him. It was just an item of clothing and a body part. Except… Part of her wanted to do this.

Taking a deep breath and glad for the whisky, Hermione opened the button of his trousers and lowered his zipper. He continued to watch without saying a word.

She pulled his trousers down, and Malfoy's hands slipped from his pockets. He pressed them onto the top of the couch on either side of his hips. His trousers fell to his ankles, and he uncrossed his legs, leaving a small space in between them.

Feeling a nervous thrill of excitement, Hermione smoothed her fingers along the waistband of his boxers, gripping the elastic and dragging them to his knees. Keeping her eyes determinedly forward, she grasped his erection with her hand as it bobbed free.

Taking a moment, she looked at his cock in her hand. It was large, but she thought she could fit it in her mouth. It might be uncomfortable, but she would could do it.

Releasing him from her grip, his erection sprang back towards his abdomen. No, that wouldn't do - she couldn't get it in her mouth at that angle. She grasped it again and held it out towards her face. Taking a breath, she opened her mouth and leaned forward.

"Lick." His voice was hoarse. He released her school tie.

She paused, somewhat grateful at being told what to do. Instead of trying to swallow him, she darted her tongue out and licked the tip of his shaft, looking up to his face for some sign of approval. There was none; he continued to silently watch, jaw clenched, grey eyes burning down at her. She looked back at his cock. Should she lick him again? On the tip? On the shaft? She should mimic being inside someone. Maybe the whole shaft. She thought he'd just want to be in her mouth.

"You've never done this before," he observed, a faint tone of disappointment in his voice. There was something in his tone that made her feel as if she'd been chastised. She was already awkward and unsure of what to do, and his subtle criticism just made it worse. Knowing what a blow job was didn't mean she understood good technique. Well, too bad for him. A surge of anger made her defiant, all sense of embarrassment, shame, and fear forgotten.

"Next time you blackmail someone into performing fellatio," she snapped, "make sure your victim has had some practice beforehand."

"Well, Mudblood." One of his hands crept behind her head while the other rested on her shoulder. His tone was soft but threatening. It scared her. "If you're unable to perform on your own…" The grip on her shoulder and scalp tightened as his voice lowered menacingly. "I'll fuck your mouth instead."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Dangerous.

His meaning was clear: either she did her best to give him a halfway-decent blow job, or he'd take over. She did not want him to take over.

"Open." His voice was dark and menacing. Such a contrast in tone from their shared Firewhisky not five minutes before.

Not waiting for him to force himself into her mouth, Hermione decided to go on the offensive and take matters into her own hands, so to speak.

The prat wanted to be licked first? Fine. She would lick him. Anger replaced her fear. She'd lick every goddamn inch of his stupid, spoiled cock.

While still holding him at the base, she opened her mouth and licked up the sides, around the base again, and to the tip. As her tongue glided over him, she looked up at him in defiance. Her anger and determination made her rough in handling him, but he didn't seem to mind. Malfoy was back to his silent stare, and though his hand still rested in her hair, his grip was relaxed and… Gentle? She continued as she gazed at him, lathing him up and down and swirling her tongue around the tip. The latter resulted in a shallow pelvic thrust.

Good.

He seemed determined not to make any noises of pleasure to encourage her, or to offer any further words of instruction to help her understand what to do or what he liked. That only made her more irate, more focused on making him react. His small involuntary movements and labored breathing told her she was on the right track. She did the same routine licking him up, down, and all around. Her saliva was everywhere; it was a mess. All over him, all over her mouth and cheeks, dripping from her chin. She didn't care.

Shifting her eyes back to his manhood, she saw that his balls had shifted slightly upward.

That looked encouraging.

She wondered if he'd enjoy being touched there, too. With her other hand, she cupped his scrotum and fondled his sack gently, grazing her nails lightly on the underside. His fingers clenched on her shoulder and scalp in response, and she felt a bolt of smug satisfaction spill into her gut. Drawing away a short distance, she looked at his penis. Though his skin was smooth, it was also crossed with ridges and veins. Were they sensitive? She leaned forward and licked, pressing the flat of her tongue against the bottom vein. Nothing. She pointed her tongue, pressing harder, and traced the indentations of his shaft, up, down, and around. He began to make involuntary movements with his pelvis, and his grip on her would occasionally tighten.

And yet, the arrogant prick remained silent, refusing to give any sounds, words of encouragement, or any other indication that she was doing things correctly. She glanced up and was thrown by the heat and intensity in his gaze.

Well, there was certainly that.

"Suck." He almost croaked the command.

Finally. She pressed her lips over his tip and sucked the skin into her mouth before swallowing him as much as she could, down to her hand at the base of his shaft. His body trembled.

"Errmmfffffff."

Hermione wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but he clearly couldn't form the words. She grinned inwardly.

Rendered speechless, indeed.

Fuck you, Draco Malfoy.

She could tell that he was still restraining himself. Eager to make him break his sodding effort to maintain his silence, she slid his cock in and out of her mouth. He was too long to take all the way into her mouth, so she kept her palm wrapped around the base and squeezed as her mouth sank down on him. She felt his legs shake, so she did it again. And again. And again.

The hand on her shoulder gripped her tightly as he shuddered, emitting a long, low groan. Feeling a perverse victory that her mouth had finally brought him out of his stoic silence, Hermione attacked his length with renewed vigor, bobbing her head at a faster pace. Continuing to experiment, she tried pressing hard with her tongue as her mouth slid up and down his length. His fingers dug into her shoulder and scalp as he bucked forward, holding her still.

"Swallowerrrrgggggghhhhh." The word turned into a grunting whine as he bucked once, twice. Then she felt his hot seed spurt into the back of her mouth while his legs and hands shook. It seemed like a lot to Hermione, but she had nothing to compare it to. She swallowed as best she could and coughed around his member, abruptly releasing it from her mouth after his hand loosened its grip on her head.

Her face was a mess.

She eyed the material of his boxers around his thighs and pulled it forward, wiping everything off of her mouth, chin and cheeks.

So there.

Arsehole.

As she leaned back on her heels, Hermione reflected on what had just occurred. All in all, the whole experience could have been much worse. Certainly the ending wasn't particularly pleasant, but the taste hadn't been terrible. It reminded her of… Salad dressing?

Movement from the corner of her eye roused her from her thoughts. Draco sagged, then dropped to the floor, sitting against the back of the couch. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was slightly damp, but his eyes… The look in his eyes made her want to do that to him all over again.

Damn him.

"Not bad for your first time," he said with a lazy grin. "Sloppy, but good. Be more careful with the teeth."

"Well, maybe if you provided a little instruction beyond the occasional single syllable word, I would have been," she said resentfully. And why the hell did it even matter how good it was anyway? The sodding ponce could go wank himself.

"Swal-low," he said, counting the syllables with his fingers, still wearing that post-coital smile. "It was more entertaining watching you figure things out on your own."

Hermione glanced back at the clock. Only four and a half hours to go. She'd survived fellating Malfoy, and now she felt more confident that she could handle whatever else he was going to throw at her.

She could do this.

With a tired groan of satisfaction, he slumped over to lie on the floor in front of her, his breaths coming more evenly. She did not look at his cock, which rested limply across his thigh. She wouldn't look again, anyway, and got up to go to the bathroom to wash her face and hands.

"I've never seen anyone look my dick like it was an Arithmancy problem before," he called out, still somewhat breathless as she walked into the loo.

"Sadly, it was a rather small Arithmancy problem," she called back.

She slammed the door behind her to the sound of his laughter.

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