One, as I'm meeting Tom Felton tomorrow for the first time, I wanted to celebrate it with you.
Two, This was one of my favourite chapters to write, I hope you can find out why...
Three, My Magzillasaurus was also impressed... plus she beta'ed this for you, thank god for her assistance.
Chapter Eight
"I'm so fucked up." She fell back on her bed, hands on her face. "Me and my mouth, damn it. Why did I have to go and spill the beans about my secret passion?" Grabbing the pillow, she covered her face, hugging her cushion tightly against her chest. "The git was listening in, you dumb arse!"
She flipped on the bed, head hidden deep in her pillow, her arms and legs kicking like a toddler who didn't get its way. "Grrr, I can be such a moron, jeez!" She turned on her back again, "He did listen. Probably for the next wank session, but who cares? The git was paying attention." She flushed, "Did he memorise it? It's nice to know that he likes navy blue."
Hermione flew out of bed, pushing her drawer open and searching for her dark blue sets. "None sexy enough." She closed it, "Wait a minute, am I contemplating a round between the sheets with the ferret?"
From the bedroom, she went to the living room, poured herself a firewhiskey, downed it in one swallow and considered a second. "Can fate be that cruel? The kid that made my life a misery becomes the man who's my perfect match? No, no, no." She flopped on the nearest sofa. "He does look good. Too good." The giddy smile on her face was by no means wiped away. "I haven't been shagged decently in ages, it's making me desperate. Ahhh!"
She ran with a giggle back to her bed, jumping onto the mattress and laughing freely from the bouncing. "I'm doomed."
-oOo-
*Malfoy Penthouse*
Draco headed straight into his bar, pouring a double that looked more like a quadruple. Undoing the buttons on his Oxford, and sipping his firewhiskey, he fell onto the couch with a plop.
The witch kept amazing him at a rate he never thought possible. Her witty comebacks, delivered with the perfect features, stroked the part of his mind that required a partner with a brain. A better one than Granger's was hard to come by, if not impossible.
He meant every word he said to her during their two sessions. He admired her, regretted his actions wholeheartedly, foremostly how he allowed someone else to cloud his judgement so profoundly. If today taught him something, it was how he genuinely enjoyed the Trio's company. Weasel and he might never be the best of buddies, polite at least; but Potter was kind of cool and funny. His Muggle upbringing gave him a no-nonsense approach, a do-as-you-please, everything-is-fine kind of way.
Take eating with your fingers, for instance. Purebloods consider it appalling, but there's something freeing about licking your fingers. He used to judge the Weasel for it, yet today he caught himself doing the same.
Just like drinking straight from the bottle. His father would have a heart attack on the spot, etiquette above everything else. It turned out to be a moment between friends, clinking the bottles in cheers, and letting go. When she did it, right in front of his face, he felt something stirring.
Then she started to banter with him, just like her Elizabeth and Darcy. He laughed heartily at the memory.
Inside their cubicle, she's calm itself, gave genuine answers, even during the second round - he was certain she had a hunch about his identity, much like he did. Out in the open, she pushed his buttons as deep he did with hers, unable to avoid stirring the monster. It felt too good...
What he also noticed during this back and forth of them: the lack of animosity. None of it was meant to hurt, rather probe and tease.
It was at this point of reviving memories and contemplating thoughts, that his mind took him where he had been avoiding.
When he asked Blaise's question, he wanted to draw her out; see if she would take the bait and raise the stakes, instead of reacting offended. He saw the last time with that crisp she fed him, how her eyes responded to him and his finger licking. A true mirrored image of how he felt right there. If they had been alone, he would have pushed her against the wall and fucked her senseless.
Inside their cubicle, she had surprised him with her answers. He didn't know what to expect, more inclined to think she demanded control in her life at every aspect; yet, she weighed on the spot the pros and cons of both positions, leaving it up to him to choose the pace. Hot as hell.
Exactly after his inquiry, she goes and asks him out of the blue, if he goes down on a woman. The answer is no, but this was something only Pansy knew. He did it once, to please the witch after her insisting nagging, somewhere in a dark alcove at Hogwarts. It was not his cup of tea, he had never repeated it with anyone else, and Pansy knew this fact too.
However, Hermione? The thought was not as absolutely disgusting as he was used to thinking, rather, to give her pleasure by his hands, an empowering feeling.
He wondered, since when do I consider the witch as someone he wanted to please? The fact was indisputable: when she asked him, his first hunch was a big solid yes. Probably due to his brain shutting down at the image of her bouncing tits while she straddled him and fucked his dick with abandon.
His cock stirred to life once again, and he palmed his erection through his pants, "Why the hell not?" Closing his eyes, head slammed back into the sofa, he let his imagination roam free. Granger in her sexy push-up bralette and a g-string barely covering the basics, taking his dick into her hot mouth and sucking it like a good girl. Paying extra attention to the head, tongue flicking over his slit, tasting his pre-cum as if it was her appetiser. His hand would knead her perky breast, tweak her nipple to draw a hiss from her throat.
In the meantime, his hand had opened his belt and fly, releasing his rock-hard erection and stroked it at the same pace as his dream-Hermione sucked him. Mini-Draco, she called it...if she only knew I'm having some me-time with my mini-Draco. He chuckled, eyes still closed.
She was straddling him now, thighs tightly around his waist, his cock deeply buried inside her slick cavern. Tight and hot, soaking wet, only for him. His hands grabbed her waist, and he used his core strength to thrust upwards into her. Mouth catching her bouncing tit, sucking hard on her taut nipple, biting into the flesh. He made her moan and cry his name out.
His hand wanked harder on his cock, hips jerking at an erratic pace, his orgasm just around the corner. Two more pulls on his steel-hard dick it's all it took, "GRANGER!" Spurts of cum flew onto his abdomen and everywhere, with each pull of his hand; the release more than welcome.
He remained on the couch, spent. Smile on his lips, though. A smile that turned into a chuckle, too lazy to clean himself thoroughly. Instead, he accioed his wand, applied a scourgify, and breathed deeply in.
If it were his call, he would skip all these activities and ask the witch on a decent date, woo her according to the numbers and shortcut on the blah blah blah. Being Granger, he knew his odds to do so, were virtually none. As they stood now towards each other, he felt confident that she looked over her preconceptions and would give him an honest chance.
Hermione Malfoy.
It had a ring to it.
"Fuck, I'm doomed."
-oOo-
Six witches entered the flagship store of Victoria's Secret like queens, in the midst of Muggle London. Hermione couldn't avoid releasing a sigh of pleasure. Ginny held her by the shoulders, "It's nearly as good as Flourish and Blotts, eh Hermione?"
"Second to that one, as you know so well." She gasped at the first mannequin, wearing the lingerie set she had been drooling about since she got her hands on the newest Vogue. "Look, Ginny, that's the one!"
"Actually, it seems they have it in navy blue also," Pansy suggested, with a cunning smile. "I do admire your taste in dainties, Hermione. I sense I'll spend some money in this place. Thank Merlin that you suggested changing galleons into Muggle currency."
By that time, Luna, Daphne and Tracey had spread around the shop, giggling and gasping at the exposed items. Hermione riffled through the pile until she found her size. "Gotcha!"
She moved onto the beachwear section, perusing between the modest and less modest designs, "I have this one, and this one, oh and this one too."
Pansy followed her closely, "How often do you come here, Granger?"
Ginny arms were also well filled with items, "Nearly every month. It's her secret pleasure, right behind her love for books and chocolate. Not your first thought, right?"
Totally unaware of her surroundings, Hermione never noticed the arrival of three wizards. Two days after the barbeque and one day before this shopping trip, Ginny and Pansy agreed to invite Draco without Hermione's knowledge, Harry forced to join in for his girlfriend's pleasure.
Blaise had invited himself, curious about Hermione's behaviour, but also because he wanted to keep a close eye on another Slytherin witch. The hints from the previous encounter, made him wonder if the Greengrass girl had more up her sleeve than at first glance.
Harry approached Ginny and grabbed her from behind, "Hi lovely. Having fun?"
"HARRY!" Hermione shrieked in a low voice, blushing heavily, as she was fingering a very sexy set, with no fabrics over the cups, only the underwire. She spun around and hid her newest finding behind her. "I wasn't expecting you here."
"Oh, don't worry. I don't like the one you were eyeing. Too revealing." Hermione became redder on the spot, after Harry's comment.
A drawling voice whispered in her ear, "I wouldn't mind, one I don't have to unclasp to gain access to your lovely bosom."
Hermione screeched, spinning around faster than lightning, eyes wide. Gritting through her teeth, she also moved her basket behind her back, "What are you doing here, ferret?"
"I was in the neighbourhood."
"My arse you were!"
"Can I see what you've selected?"
"Touch any of it, and I'll hex you, Malfoy."
"How can I decide which one I'll gift to you, if I can't choose between your selections?"
"I don't need your money."
"I know you don't. Which is kind of refreshing, really." Her eyes spit fire, and he was enjoying it. He couldn't recall a moment when he'd had his much fun. "Oh well, if so, you'll force me to choose something of my liking." He picked a bra out of her basket, eyeing the size tag. "34C, perfect. See you in a bit, love."
"Hold your hippogriffs, Mister. You'll not be buying lingerie for me."
"Granger-love, try to stop me." He moved into the spicy section. 34C? They would fit his hand just perfectly. He picked the first nice little nothing he found, showing it to her. "Do you like it?"
"I have one similar to that, Malfoy." He looked dumbfounded, between her and the piece he held in his hands. "In bright pink." He gulped.
She followed him closely, though; watching his slender fingers touch the lace, did weird things to her mood. He pointed at some choices, and she shook her head or nodded, telling him each time if she possessed or not some comparable items. When she told him no, he perused through the colour, searched the correct size, added the item to her pile, including the matching bottom, the size of it also learned in a similar way.
And she let him do it.
Her girls were temporarily forgotten although they were watched from afar, shocking everyone with how they got along. Every item he chose, increased his surprise, often thinking how wrong he was about this enticing woman. Plus it fuelled his overloaded fantasy; a few rejections later, and it bewildered him how did she had ever gained the title of prude, in Salazar's name. Not even Pansy was this adventurous.
A corset stole her attention, and she left him, to admire the satin laces and the delicate broderie. Hermione touched it with a look of reverence, thinking about that one dress that would go perfectly with it. Giddy, she took her size down from its higher bar; biting in her lip, she turned around while putting it with the vast heap.
Draco met her gaze and her breath faltered. His eyes were like liquid mercury, the lust written all over the orbs. Gone was the pretence. For both. In its place, the certainty that there was this thing between them. Something neither of them denied, in fact, both very much open to exploring.
One word flashed red in her mind. Doomed.
Shaken, she headed towards the fitting rooms, with him in her trail. "Where do you think you're going, Malfoy?"
"See how it all fits."
"In your dreams. Wait here." Her finger stabbed in his chest, halting his movements.
"Let me see at least one."
"You don't get to demand."
He called her out, huskily, "One. It's all I ask."
Her breath quickened. Tongue slipping out to wet her dry lips.
He growled quietly.
She curled a corner of her mouth, lowered her gaze, and entered the first free dressing room.
-oOo-
"One more spark and someone needs to call the muggle firefighters." Blaise shoved a bottle of water in his hands, "Cool down a little, mate."
"She's amazing."
"I can see it, mate. Does she have any competition?"
"Huh?"
"Is there another witch on that list of yours?"
"Scratched off all the other numbers, after that second time."
"I'm happy that you found your counterpart."
"Huh?"
"Mate, you're so gone… She's wound you around her finger, and you never saw it happen."
"Maybe?" Draco paid more attention to the shadows under her door, than to Blaise's words. The strap of a black bra fell under the entrance, and he nearly crouched to pick it up; a female hand beat him at it.
"Draco?"
As in a trance, he walked towards the voice. The door opened slightly, only wide enough to give him entrance. He complied and locked anew.
Hermione stared at him from the mirror, hands crossed at her chest, that rose and fell with rapid breaths. Draco approached her, the pad of his forefinger following the shape of her spine from the neck until it hid under her corset. She shivered.
Grey eyes roamed over the back of her bodice, until it stopped right above the curve of her spine, and proceeded into a small thread through the crease of her behind. Her firm globes. Perfectly shaped.
His hands landed softly on her shoulders, and he turned her to face him, moving one arm then the other until the rounded shape of her bust was uncovered, the plunge fitting pushing both mounds upwards into a sexy cleavage, the small bow giving it the final feminine touch. He took it all in, using all his control to not ravage her on the spot.
Draco drew a long breath, Hermione closed her eyes feeling the hot air caressing her skin. "It fits you like a glove."
The same finger traced her collarbone, up through her neck until the palm of his hand could curve around her cheek and pull her to him. Hovering just above her lips, he waited for her sign of refusal. Seconds later, he kissed her heatedly, her arms curling around his neck to pull him closer, Draco's free hand palmed a globe and pushed her towards him, his arousal now undeniable present. Her tongue probed gently, seeking entrance and he gave it all to her.
Moments later, they broke apart, both blushing and breathing heavily. Foreheads leaning against each other, a thumb stroking her bottom lip. Eyes closed.
"Let me take you to dinner."
"No. We finish this course first."
"You're mine."
"Don't be so sure yet." Using both hands, she shoved him off her, opened the door and pushed him out. "I'm not that easily won."
"I don't walk away from a challenge, Granger."
She stuck her tongue out, closed the door and leaned against it, hand on her heart.
Doomed, indeed.