Merry Christmas!
... she said 3 months later. Sorry. This chapter was a hassle. I kept re-writing it. But I think you'll enjoy it, if you know what I mean *wink wink*
Enjoy :)
WARNING: Mature content ahead. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: Don't own HP.
Year 1997, December (Christmas Eve)
The Library
"Idiot, idiot, idiot…" Hermione mumbled to herself. She looked annoyingly at the parchment in front of her and let out another tired sigh. Her petite hands gripped at the paper and with one final puff of breath she tore it in two and tossed the remains dramatically into the bin under the desk.
"You are a bloody idiot…" She continued her insistent mumbling before grabbing another page and inking her quill.
This bloody essay was going to be the death of her. Here she was, on Christmas Eve, struggling to finish what was supposed to be a heartfelt essay about Muggle Culture… heartfelt with bloody prejudice. Muggle Studies were taught by none other than the dreadful Alecto Carrow and she was pretty keen on making Hermione's life a living hell. Even after professor McGonagall had requested that Hermione be exempt from that class, Snape was having none of it:
"As Hogwarts Headgirl, Miss Granger must be of an example to all the students. What would they say if they found out she had some kind of special treatment, regarding this school's lectures?"
"I'm sure you can understand, Headmaster, that Hermione being Muggle and Headgirl has no use for such a class. She has much to do already. Surely you can make an exception, just this once?" McGonagall had asked.
"Muggle or not, Miss Granger will take the class. It is as you say. She's a Muggle, so she will excel in this class, don't you reckon?" And Snape had answered.
And Hermione had to follow the rules. And play by the book. And try to give the example.
And she did. Ever since she had stepped foot in the classroom, Alecto made sure she referred it every-time.
"Oh look, the Mudblood! I'm hoping you came with a different attitude this time around, Granger. My wand is actually getting tired of putting up with you for so long." She would say with the most sinister smile she could master.
By wand she actually meant some of the curses Hermione had to endure, every-time she would refuse to comment on whatever atrocity Alecto was teaching about Muggles. Or every-time she would try to intervene, calling out Alecto's complete ignorance on the Muggle world. Of course, that was in the beginning. After several Cruciatus, Hermione had learned to simply keep her mouth shut. She would normally stay after class for 'detention' – as Alecto called it – for undermining a teacher's authority and wisdom.
Even though Hermione never went as far as calling her a bitch once, Alecto kept her classroom very strict and Hermione had learned that the very hard way. Bitch was one of Alecto's number one "no, no's". Hermione didn't even sleep that night, the pain being so intense. And every detention after that, Alecto would always mention how she had called her a bitch.
But this time, Alecto decided to take a different route. After another dreadful lesson, where she mainly discussed the perversity of Muggle Christmas and how they would all simulate sexual intercourse with a turkey (yes, she had said it), Hermione forgot the rules and decided to intervene. She abruptly told Alecto to shut it, arguing she was completely oblivious to the subject.
"Are you saying I'm not familiar with the Muggle ways, Miss Granger? Are you implying I'm dumb?"
"I'm implying you know perfectly well that everything you teach in this class is utter rubbish."
Again the sinister smile and a simple reply "Detention after class, Mudblood."
Hermione was prepared for it. She had endured so many curses by now, she knew them by heart: how they felt, the duration they would be depending on how hard you grasped your wand, the taste they left in your mouth, the way your bones cracked in all the wrong places. She had memorized it all. So she was mildly surprised when, after class, Alecto simply sat at her desk, grading some papers. She noticed that the Gryffindors were all getting Poors. Go figure.
"I suppose you are waiting for another torture session, Granger, but my wand is quite sick of you. Sadly, I'll have to think of another way to punish you." Alecto said, without even sparing her a glance.
Hermione didn't reply. Straightening her back she waited patiently, like she would if she were on trial.
"Since you clearly have absolutely no idea of the ways of your people…"
Hermione wanted to slap her, noting the face of disgust she made when she said 'people'.
"… I suggest you do an essay about Muggle Christmas, in regards to what I said today in this classroom and with some research of your own. I want 30 inches of parchment by Thursday."
"But… that's Christmas day!" Hermione argued.
"Yes! Isn't that jolly?" she exclaimed.
"Four days for a thirty-inch essay?"
"Well, don't they call you the brightest witch of our age? It's time you prove it, Granger."
Hermione was about to retort but as she opened her mouth and saw Alecto's face, she knew it was no good. If she kept arguing, not only would she risk added inches but Alecto's wand could be feeling slightly better today. She made the wise decision to just go with it.
True, it was Christmas but she wasn't going anywhere. Where would she go to? Mrs. Weasley had insisted she came to the Burrow, but Hermione had politely declined, not really in the mood for celebrating when there was imminent war brewing. Ginny had tried to convince her as well, stating she needed a break from it all; a break from the Slytherins and the Carrows and Snape and Hogwarts. A "well-deserved holiday" she had said. But how could Hermione take a holiday when students were being tortured and attacked? When Ron and Harry were still out there, somewhere, alone, fighting for their lives? When she had the responsibility, as Head Girl and as a member of the Order of Phoenix, to keep the students safe? Hermione couldn't rest, she couldn't take a break. Not until this was all over.
Before she could even accept her fate, Alecto made a warning:
"And I hope you have the decency to write me a good essay, Granger. None of that 'I love Muggles and Muggles are amazing' crap. I want the facts and the truth. If you get side-tracked I'm sure I'll find a way to make you regret it." Alecto had lost her smile this time "My wand is indeed tired of you but there are so many sweeter, innocent and filthy Mudbloods in this school. Are you certain you want their blood on your hands?"
The way she had said filthy Mudblood...
She stopped her train of thought. Hermione couldn't think about him right now.
She took a deep breath.
So, Alecto was making her write an essay where she had to bash Muggleborns and Muggles. And she had to do it or other students would feel the wrath of Alecto's wand, even if some of them had felt it already she reckoned. That hurt more than every Cruciatus curse Hermione had ever endured. This was an all-new level of cruelty. Making her dismiss and bad mouth her own heritage? The heritage she was so proud of. Her own friends, family… Herself? This was degrading.
"Are we clear, Granger?" Alecto asked.
"Yes… Professor Carrow." The words felt like ashes in her mouth.
"Good. You are dismissed. Get the hell out of my sight, Mudblood."
Hermione looked down at her essay once again and grabbed her hair in frustration. How was she supposed to this? How was she supposed to write so many lies, so many degrading lies? How was she supposed to fucking do this? To deny everything she believed in? To distort every bit of dignity and humanity she had left? How was she supposed to write this essay, without feeling sick with herself; sick in her stomach, almost about to puke her brains out.
She had already re-done it about five times since she had started the damn thing. It was Christmas Eve, the essay was due tomorrow and here she was, hidden in the Library, too ashamed to tell anyone what she was doing. Too ashamed of herself… What would anyone say if she told them what she was writing? The brutality of these words… It hurt her. It shamed her. Merlin… why was she going through this? What had she done to deserve this?
Hermione was never one to wallow in self-pity. She was a strong girl, a brave girl. She was raised to be that way: strong, resilient. Still, she had her struggles, her insecurities, her moments of pain and grief. She had her moments. She did. She had had moments when she had wished not to be a witch; when she had wished not to be best friends with Harry Potter. Moments when she had wished she could simply be a normal Muggle girl. But she wasn't and this was the life she had. This was her life, Hermione's life and if she had to trade her soul with the devil to save the Wizarding World, she would. If she had to write bullshit to save students, she would. Even if it cost her her dignity and self-respect... she had to. What could she do? Lives were at stake: the students, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus… Merlin, she needed to protect them! And if this bloody parchment helped in their protection, she had to pull herself together, swallow her pride and be brave. Be a Muggle. Be a Gryffindor. Be Hermione Granger.
Inking her quill again, Hermione glanced briefly at the clock on the wall beside her. The little hands on the clock were promptly stuck between the ten and the eleven.
"Meaning it is five minutes to eleven…" she mumbled again, unknowing of the fact that she had said it out loud.
Her head refocused its attention on the parchment in front of her. Just twenty-five inches left.
She chuckled sadly. Yes, just twenty-five more inches and the students would be safe… for twenty-four hours at least. She knew nothing could prevent that stupid Alecto bitch from hurting another student if the opportunity presented itself. At least Hermione could sleep tomorrow with a slightly lighter consciousness… she hoped.
She was lacking sleep, nowadays, with all that was going on with Hogwarts and Voldemort and DADA and the other students… the Slytherins… Malfoy…
And there it was again.
Malfoy.
Her left hand went to touch her lips involuntarily.
They had kissed. Two weeks ago they had kissed. No. They hadn't just kissed, that wasn't just a kiss… That was raw. It was brutal. It was fireworks and…
She closed her eyes and cringed inwardly.
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had kissed and it had felt damn good. And during the kiss… Oh Merlin, during that kiss she had remembered. She had remembered that Valentine's night in the Library… She had remembered –
A noise startled her.
Hermione quickly dropped her quill and grabbed her wand from the table. She rose from her chair, wand at the ready, eyes searching frenetically. Since it was quite late and it was Christmas, the Library was currently deserted, no one wanting anything to do with it. Any noise that wasn't her doing only meant that something or someone was lurking about.
Her fingers tighten around her wand, her heartbeat raising. She continued to look around, her eyes trying to adjust in the darkness, the only source of light coming from two lanterns she had on the table. She breathed silently, her ears trying to catch any other sounds. Was there someone spying on her?
"Put the wand down, Granger."
Hermione quickly faced the source of the spoken sentence. She unmistakably knew that voice. She would always know that voice. It was carved into her.
There, a few feet ahead of her, Draco Malfoy stumbled awkwardly into her vision. The lanterns slowly revealed his tall frame, as he struggled to take the right steps. He wasn't wearing his Hogwarts uniform (did he ever?), clad in simple black pants and a grey sweatshirt. And as he slowly made his way towards her she knew that something wasn't right, for he was clearly struggling to maintain his balance, his right arm aiding itself on one of the bookshelves. Still, Hermione kept pointing her wand at him.
What was he even doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be back home, with his dear mother, celebrating Christmas, while planning the world's demise and praising Voldemort for his accomplishments?
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she inquired harshly.
He stumbled again, bracing himself on the bookshelf and looked at her.
"I could ask you the same thing, Granger. Shouldn't you be out and about, celebrating Christmas with your bloody Gryffindor pals? Eating some lovely turkey with your Muggle parents? Shagging the Weasel under the table?"
Hermione didn't reply, noticing from his slurred speech that something was off. Something was wrong, definitely wrong. Was he drunk?
"I bet you would like that, wouldn't you? Safely tucked away near a cosy fire, eating fucking strawberries while Weasel fucked you hard into the rug." He laughed sardonically. "And in the morning you each would open up fucking Christmas presents and kiss each other under the mistletoe! A fucking fairy tale for Potty's best friends."
"I'll ask you again, Malfoy." She ignored him, deciding that was the best course of action "What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?"
He laughed again "Spying on you? Merlin, Granger you really do think highly of yourself. Why would I waste my fucking time spying on you, Mudblood?"
There it was. The word. That word. The word she was supposed to write a million times over in her essay. The word that kept plaguing her, over and over and over again. That fucking word. She heard it so many times now, it was practically impregnated in the English language. The Carrows, the Slytherins, Voldemort… everyone used that fucking word. Yet, when it came from him, it hurt so much more. And Hermione had trouble figuring out why.
"I'm sick of telling you, Malfoy, not to call me that." She warned, her wand trembling in her hand.
Malfoy snickered but remained silent, as if contemplating what his next move would be. He decided that the wand had to go. Not that Granger would try anything, she was too good for that. But, nonetheless, it was distracting him and he wanted to talk to her without the peril. He was risking enough as it was, coming here late at night, looking for her, with the amount of alcohol in his system. He needed to make this worthwhile and he could do without Granger's hexing.
"And I already told you to put your wand down, Granger." He said, taking another step towards her.
"Get out of here, Malfoy, before I hex you back to wherever hole you came from."
"Ooo, scary, Granger." He joked, still making his way towards her, slowly "You like pointing your wand at the poor, wandless Slytherin drunk?"
Hermione inhaled sharply. So, he was drunk. At least he was capable of admitting it but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat. Malfoy was good at wandless magic and he was still stronger than her. And let's not forget the recent trying to kill her ordeal.
"I don't care if you're drunk. Get the hell out of here. I mean it." She threatened again.
"Why, Granger? Why would I want to do that? I'm perfectly content in being here. Watching you squirm is ever so interesting."
Hermione didn't like where this was going. He was much closer to her now and she still hadn't used her wand. Damnit, Hermione. Pull it together, do something. Hex him. Make a run for it.
She looked around her to see if she could just run her way out of this situation, cursing herself for her lack of bravery when it came to hexing Malfoy. She was trapped between two bookshelves, a wall behind her and Malfoy right in front of her.
Merlin, she had just wanted to write the fucking essay.
Malfoy continued to advance on her and Hermione was quickly getting nervous and scared. This could go either way. He could just intimidate her and choke her or he could just –
"Stop thinking about whatever it is you are thinking, Granger." He smirked as his chest barely touched the tip of her wand. "I just want to talk to you."
"Well I don't want to talk to you, Malfoy. I want you to leave."
Malfoy took a moment to look at her. She seemed a bit out; large, dark circles under her eyes. Her petite frame was slightly quivering and her hand looked like it was cramping from holding her wand so hard. She looked… exhausted, for the lack of a better word.
He had to admit, he hadn't thought this through. He blamed the firewhisky, it completely clouded his judgement and in his drunken state, all he could think of was Hermione Granger. And it angered him. For two weeks he had tried to avoid her as much as he possibly could, after that kiss…
Draco closed his eyes for a brief second, memories flooding his brain.
Merlin, that kiss. The best kiss of his life. The best feeling of his life. And it shouldn't be. It shouldn't be with her, with Hermione Mudblood Granger.
He opened his eyes again and let them wander lazily onto the table next to her, another memory flashing in front of him.
Fuck him. Fuck her.
Fuck.
"Do you remember what happened in this library, Granger?" he asked, almost silently.
Hermione's eyes widen, her arm starting to hurt. Was he talking about…
"Do you remember? Remember what we talked about? What I said, what I did…" he continued "Where I touched you?"
Oh Merlin, no! Not again. No, they couldn't do this. They wouldn't talk about this.
Hermione could feel her cheeks heating up with the embarrassment of it all.
No, no, no. They couldn't talk about this. He had told her to forget about it. She had wanted to forget about it. They couldn't talk about this, they couldn't.
Malfoy returned his gaze to her once again, faintly noticing, in the dark, how her eyes had widened and how her cheeks had slightly darkened.
Oh yes, she remembered.
He took a peak at the wand touching his chest, still unused, wondering if she forgot she was still pointing it at him. He still had no idea why he was talking about this or why he was here. Fuck, he was so pathetic…
"I remember, Granger." He told her, looking straight into her eyes. "I remember what I said, what I did, where I touched you. I remember what you felt like. I remember the sound of your moan, the way your eyes clouded up, the way your face reddened."
Hermione wasn't sure she was hearing this at all. She wasn't sure she was still breathing.
Malfoy continued to advance on her and her arm felt like jelly. His chest pushed at her wand until it started to trace up his torso, his frame coming near her own.
"I also remember that afterwards I went up to look for Pansy. I was so hard it hurt, Granger. I went to look for Pansy and I shagged her… hard. I shagged her wishing you away, wishing she would make it all go away." He admitted, close to her body. He could feel her breath on his chin "I fucked her so I could try to forget you. I wanted to fucking forget all about you, Granger. But I didn't, I couldn't. I fucked her… And I kept wishing I was fucking you instead."
Hermione could feel her heart beating wildly against her chest, all his words flooding straight to hear head. She looked up at him, her wand squished between their bodies, his eyes staring right back into hers. She could smell the alcohol, pouring from his skin pores, from his nostrils, from his mouth. She could smell it. And she could smell him, all the smell that was Draco Malfoy. And she could feel him, all of him.
The things he was saying, she should feel disgusted by it. She should feel repulsed, revolted. The crudeness of his words, the meaning behind them… She should feel appalled, horrified.
She didn't.
Draco Malfoy was telling her how much he had wanted to shag her… and all it did was make her wet.
"The way you act, Granger. The way you look, the way you talk… I hate you, Granger. I fucking hate you. What you are, what you represent, what you do… I hate it all, Granger." His hand came to her hair, skimming it leisurely.
Anger started to rise up in her and she was about to retort, when one of his fingers came to silence her lips. And his head bowed to look at her, fully.
"I hate you, Granger, but that doesn't undermine the fact that I want you." He explained, his finger slowly tracing her bottom lip. "I want you so bad, it's a sin. You are a sin, Granger. A fucking, beautiful sin."
Hermione was almost sure she would have a panic attack any second now. Merlin, someone pinch her. Was this really happening? No, it couldn't. He was drunk. That was the explanation. He was drunk. But he hadn't been when he had touched her two years back… or when he had kissed her two weeks ago.
Fuck. Her head felt like exploding.
"Malfoy, you don't know what you are saying. You are drunk. Let's just… let's just call it a night, ok? Go back to your dorm." She tried to reason with him, tried to make him see that this wasn't right. This was a mistake. This shouldn't happen.
"I may be drunk, Granger, but I do know what I'm saying." He said, his finger still entranced by her bottom lip "I want you. I've wanted you ever since I could think of wanting you. I fucking want you. And I know you want me too, Granger."
"No, I don't." Hermione was quick to answer, trying as best as she could to make it sound like the truth. She could lie to Malfoy, even if she couldn't lie to herself.
"You are a bad liar, Granger." He smirked, the hand in her hair coming to rest at her waist.
Hermione felt his hand moving to her body and she wanted desperately to pry it off her, but she was struggling to find the will, to find the strength. Merlin, what was she doing? Was she this weak, this pathetic? She wasn't like this. This wasn't her. This was Malfoy. She hated him, she hated him with every fibre of her being. This was Malfoy, the cowardly boy that had tried to kill her two months before. This was fucking Malfoy! Just hex him, for Merlin's sake. Just be you, just be brave and hex him.
"No, I'm not. I don't want you, Malfoy. I fucking hate you." She seethed, trying to put some distance between them using her wand again. "Now get off me or I swear I'll use it, Malfoy."
"As I said before, Granger, hating me doesn't undermine the fact that you want me. I feel it, Granger. I felt it. That kiss… It takes two to tango." He hissed, the hand gripping at her waist. "So, for the third and final time… put the wand down."
The next thing she felt were his lips on hers, hard and hungry. Her wand almost broke with the force of his body claiming her personal space. The hand on her face went to grab her neck, pulling her head closer to his.
Hermione would like to think that she had struggled, that she had fought back. That, the moment his lips came in contact with hers, she had felt nauseated and sick. That she had felt angry and revolted. That she had done everything in her power to push him off her. She would like to think that her hand hadn't dropped her wand on the floor and that her arms hadn't circled around his neck, bringing him closer. She would like to think that she had felt disgusted when his tongue probed into her mouth, tasting of firewhisky and peppermint; that she hadn't moaned when the hand on her waist groped her butt. Hermione would like to think that she had done all those things… But she hadn't.
When her arms came around his neck, pulling him closer to her, Draco's doubts completely dissipated. She wanted him, just as badly, and that made his heart swell uncontrollably. And here he was, kissing Hermione Granger in the library and, once again, his body and mind went into overdrive, every sensor tingling.
His tongue danced around hers and she moaned so deliciously. His hand descended towards the back of her skirt and gripped the firm flesh beneath it. He felt her breath quicken. Her wand was already on the floor and now he could feel her warm breasts crushing against his chest. The alcohol in his system was making his head spin, but Draco knew that it wasn't the whisky alone that was making him feel like this... this intoxicated, electric.
He was pouring everything into the kiss. He sucked at her tongue and plucked at her lips. When one of her hands gripped the back of his head, fingers tugging at his hair, his throat vibrated with a moan of his own. He was getting frenetically aroused, his cock already swelling up, the need to rip her clothes off and fuck her on the table being almost too much to handle. He needed her, Merlin he needed her so bad.
With painful determination he tore his lips from hers. He needed to calm himself down or he would literally cum in his pants.
Hermione was gulping in air, her chest heaving and her eyes dazing in the dark. How could a kiss do so much? How could a simple kiss… a simple mimicking of mouths and tongues create so much fire, so much passion? This was unreal. She had never felt anything like this before, not with Viktor or anyone… This was too much.
Draco was gathering his breath as well, collecting his composure as the alcohol and stimulation still swirled around the veins of his body. He felt slightly light-headed, his train of thoughts rapidly getting off the tracks. He needed to calm down, he needed to clear his head. And he needed to touch her. Touch her everywhere, all of her. He never needed to touch someone so badly in his life.
With new determination he gently used his body weight to push her backwards, until her back hit the wall behind her. He should have felt surprised when she didn't object, but inwardly he already knew she wasn't going anywhere, not after another body-melting kiss. If she needed proof, proof that she was fucking him in the head completely, he was going to give it to her.
Hermione felt her back hit the wall and silently cursed herself for being in this position once again: Malfoy, her and a wall. She shouldn't be doing this. What would anyone say if they walked on them, right now? What would Malfoy's pals think? What would her friends think? Merlin, they were risking their lives and here she was, fraternizing with the enemy.
Malfoy was the enemy. He was the enemy. And what was this? Why was he doing this? He had been calling her a Mudblood not ten minutes ago and now he was kissing her? Was this some kind of a sick, twisted form of torture? Was this Malfoy trying to humiliate her like he had done two years ago? Trying to prove she was nothing but some sort of whore?
Well congratulations, Malfoy, it's working. I've never felt so revolted with myself. You are the enemy, you fucking tried to kill Dumbledore. You are one of Voldemort's pawns and the mark I saw on your arm proves it. People are dying, people need my help, they need me to protect them. Harry, Ron, oh Merlin! They would hate me if they saw me like this, against you and wanting nothing more than for you to kiss me again. And that sickens me. I'm appalled at my own perversion, at my own shameless behaviour. Because it is true, it's so true it hurts... I want you. I want you like I've never wanted anyone before. And why? Merlin, why?
With new-found courage, Hermione tried, once again, to ignore the wishes of her body and rationalize with her head:
"Ma-Ma-Malfoy, this has to stop. We don't – We don't do this. This… This isn't normal, natural. This isn't right." She stammered, her hands trying to push at his chest.
"Shhh, Granger… don't think. Don't say anything. Just- Just feel, ok? Just… let me… I-I… need to…"
He seemed to be struggling to control himself as well. Why, Malfoy? Why? Just tell me why, because I can't. I'm so tired, so fucking tired... Tired of all the beating and the curses, the death, the war... Tired of feeling worthless, of feeling like I'm scum, of feeling like I'm nothing, like I don't deserve this precious gift that is magic. Tired of missing Harry and Ron, of missing life before Hogwarts. I'm tired of trying to figure it out, trying to figure it all out. Why do you want me? Why are we doing this?
Why, why, why?
Malfoy's hand began tugging at her grey sweater, trying to pull it upwards. Hermione began to breathe fast again, fighting with her inner self whether she should let him do this. Should she? Merlin… she… she wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her, to devour all of her. She wanted him to.
She heard his words once again, resonating in her head:
Don't think, don't say anything. Just feel.
She was numb as she lifted her arms, allowing him to pull the sweater off her body, leaving her in her tie and shirt. Numb as her hair fell around her face again, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon faintly in the air. Hermione was numb and she just let herself forget. Forget to think, forget to talk. Just feel.
Malfoy's breathing was turning laboured and she noticed how his hands shook when he began to undue her tie. Was he nervous? Was it the firewhisky? Or was his need this demanding…
He quickly got rid of the damn red tie and calmly started to undue her shirt buttons, making sure that his fingertips brushed lightly against every inch of skin he uncovered. He looked back at her, her face scrunched up with doubt and uneasiness. She was, unconsciously, biting her lower lip, pulling at it with his teeth. She met his eyes, nervous and tense.
"Every-time I see you, Granger, I always wonder what is under your robes." He confessed, reaching for the last buttons of her shirt, all the while looking straight at her.
Hermione sucked in a breath, waiting for him to continue, her shirt almost completely open.
"Every-time, Granger… I would imagine what your breasts would look like, what the colour of your knickers would be… What you would taste like…" Malfoy finally popped open the last button and, with both hands, began opening her shirt, revealing a simple dark bra.
He didn't even look down, didn't even notice the size or shape and Hermione wondered what he was thinking. His words were having a deep effect on her, her thighs slightly rubbing together, the tension between her legs building up. She knew he would be pleased to find, when his hands enveloped themselves in her breasts, that her nipples were already hard and erect, anticipating his touch. And that was exactly what he found when he gently caressed both her heaving breasts in his hands. And he growled silently at the contact and she moaned at the feeling of having Draco Malfoy's hands caressing her breasts.
More. He needed more.
Without removing her shirt, he gently went to the straps on her shoulders and pulled them down her arms, as if he was peeling a fruit, delicately. His fingers touched every spot of skin they could sense and he gently reached behind her back, unhooking her bra.
Hermione was fighting a lost battle with herself. Was she really letting him do this, was she really –
Oh, Merlin! Malfoy's hands were on her now bare breasts and he was palming them slowly. His thumbs were skidding closer to her peaks and she suppressed a moan. Hermione closed her eyes and let her head fall against the wall behind her. Malfoy took the opportunity to attack her exposed neck, his tongue working its way from the base, to her ear. Just as he did that, his thumb and index finger found her hard peaks and began to gently roll them, pulling at them slightly.
Hermione moaned loudly. Her body was betraying her. Her body shamelessly wanted more. She wanted more.
Just feel.
"Shh… we have to be quiet." Malfoy's breath was hot on her neck.
Hermione bit her lip, suppressing another moan as his thumbs continued to caress her sensitive nipples.
"You are fucking beautiful, Hermione…" He whispered against her ear as his hands worked on her breasts, stretching her nipples, pulling them.
The way he had said her name. Her name coming from Draco Malfoy's voice… Fuck, she was getting extremely worked up. The pressure on the middle of her thighs was border lining on excruciating. Draco Malfoy shouldn't say her name like that, he shouldn't.
It wasn't right, it wasn't... Merlin, no.
Please. Damnit, Hermione, do something!
Just feel.
No.
No!
"No." She opened her eyes again, her mind trying to fight her traitorous body.
"What?" Draco suddenly looked up at her.
"No. Get off me, Malfoy, please..." Her hands started to pry his hands off her, off her delicate breasts.
Malfoy quickly grabbed both her wrists, stopping her movements. He roughly pinned them over her head with his left hand. Hermione kept struggling, the new position bringing her breasts upward and as she moved, her peaks were scrapping at his sweatshirt. She bit her lip again, her body aching for the touch.
"Stop denying this, Granger! I know the way you react around me. I know you like it when I touch you." He went for her neck again, slowly kissing and biting. "I can smell you…"
His right hand went to caress her breast again, rolling her nipple roughly. She inhaled sharply, her thighs rubbing together once again. After pinching it again and hearing her faint moan, confirming what he had said earlier, Draco's hand began to travel downwards, past her flat stomach and her skirt.
"No… Don't."
He kissed her again to silence her, his tongue seeking hers and she responded almost immediately. See Granger? This is how I know you want me just as bad. You may want to fight this battle, Granger but you'll just lose the war.
His hand reached under her skirt and started to push her stockings downwards. He went behind her and squeezed her bum in the process. He pulled at her stockings until they reached her knees. He left her skirt on.
"I'm going to touch you now, Granger." He told her, breaking their kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
Hermione trembled with anticipation and nerves. She closed her eyes again, not able to face him, tears almost threatening to form. Here she was, held by Draco Malfoy, her chest exposed, her nipples hard, stockings on her knees, knickers damp… How could she face the world when she was like this… and she was enjoying it?
A jolt went through her as she felt his fingers make contact with her knickers. It was the lightest of touches and still, she bit her lip again.
Draco felt the damp spot on her centre and muffled a growl. She was wet. She was deliciously wet and all for him. How he had longed to touch her again, after all these years. How he had longed to feel her pussy again, to hear her moan again.
His fingers secured the elastic as he brought her knickers down her legs to meet her stockings. Hermione gasped when she felt the cold air hitting her.
"Spread your legs for me, Granger." His alcohol breath reached her nostrils.
She resisted.
His hand came down and barely slapped her core. Hermione jumped slightly, a moan erupting from her throat. She opened her eyes ready to scowl him, only to see him almost smirking at her.
"Why, Granger… I didn't know you were into spanking." And he slapped gently again, this time letting his finger trail her slit. And she moaned again, her legs opening slightly, the need to have him touch her, overwhelming her.
"That's it… Open up for me."
And she did.
And Draco Malfoy finally touched Hermione Granger's bare pussy for the first time.
She was hot and slick and so wet. His index and ring finger slowly parted her folds, as his middle finger traced her up and down, applying a slight pressure when he felt her throbbing nub.
"You are so wet for me, Granger." He whispered in her ear. "Open more."
She did what he told her, opening her legs as far as the stockings and knickers on her knees would allow and felt Malfoy's finger slowly move at her entrance, entering her. A guttural moan abandoned her throat and Malfoy felt her tight pussy convulse greedily around his finger. He couldn't help but imagine his cock inside her and let out a moan of his own. He started to rub himself on her left thigh, the pressure on his cock being almost impossible.
"You are so tight, so hot, so wet…" He told her again, as his finger stretched inside her and began a torturous, steady rhythm: in, out, in out.
Hermione's hips started to move against his hand, trying to get his palm to brush over her clit while she felt her core sucking at his finger. Sensing her need Malfoy moved his hand so that his thumb would rub her little nub. The moment she felt him on her clit Hermione moaned loudly, not caring if anybody heard. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, her head rolling sideways on the wall behind her.
"You like it when I rub your clit, Granger?"
His thumb rubbed again and her hips trusted violently against his hand. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
Draco's fingers were practically soaking on her juices, his wrist starting to ache from the position. She continued to rub herself against his fingers, the desire settled deep on her lower stomach.
"Do you want to come, my little Gryffindor Princess?" He whispered nastily, adding a second finger, pumping in and out of her.
Hermione didn't respond, as her hips kept humping his hand with the need to do exactly what he had said. And what he had called her just now… Merlin, it only turned her on more.
Malfoy looked at her and he growled proudly. Here she was, the Head Girl: breasts pushed into his shirt, nipples hard, legs open with her knickers and stockings dangling from her knees, her eyes closed, face flushed red, her teeth threatening to open her bottom lip, hair tousled… Merlin she was absolutely beautiful.
Sobeautiful sobeautiful
Suchasin
He halted his ministrations suddenly and Hermione groaned in frustration. She tried to get him to move, but he held his stance: fingers inside her, thumb pressuring her clit. She opened her eyes and he was looking right back at her, a serious expression on his face. His eyes were boring into hers and she could feel him continue to rub himself against her thigh.
The pressure of his fingers was too much. It was all too much. Hermione needed to come. She hadn't felt the need to come so badly in her life. She was almost crying in frustration. Merlin, Malfoy! Why aren't you fucking moving? Why aren't you, why…
"I want you to beg for it, Granger." His voice dropped almost an octave.
Her eyes widen up with sudden realization. Her mouth parted with an outraged gasp. He wanted her to…
"Beg me for it. I know how close you are. I can feel it. Question is… how badly do you want it?"
Malfoy was testing her. He wanted her to submit to him, to submit to the truth. I want you to admit it, Granger. Admit that you want me just as badly, admit that you like having my fingers in your pussy, that you like having my cock rubbing against your leg, that you like to be finger-fucked by Draco Malfoy in the library.
Admit it.
Hermione seemed to fight against it. This wasn't about who wanted who anymore. This was about control, it was about acknowledging something, it was about opening a door… a door that once opened, she didn't know if she could ever close. Did she really want this? Was the need to…
Merlin, I hate you Malfoy. I hate you so much.
Hermione closed her eyes again, swallowing the dryness in her throat, tears behind her lids. She close her eyes and let her head fall and she just…
"Please…" Merlin, was she really begging?
She felt him smirk against her neck. "Please what?"
"Please… let me come."
Hermione Granger had just opened a door she would never be able to close and all for an orgasm. Shame didn't even begin to describe this.
Malfoy suddenly removed his fingers from her and for a moment her heart sank. How could she have been so stupid? Of course, of course this was some sick game he was playing! He was toying with her. He just wanted to see how much he could really push her; how much he could really break her. Fucking Malfoy, fucking everything! Merlin, she was so stupid!
She was about to try to push him off her, when his hand was at her again, gathering her juices and bringing them upwards to her nub. He started to rub fast and ferociously and Hermione gasped loudly. She could feel her hips meeting his hand again, gravitating with him. She could hear the sounds of his fingers rubbing against her juiced up clit and she moaned loudly again, getting closer and closer.
Oh yes, finally!
He tapped her clit once, twice. As he rubbed her, white spots, almost shaped like stars, started to form behind her closed lids. She was, she was about to…
Fireworks.
She came.
Hard.
Another low scream abandoned her throat, her hips pushing against his hand, her pussy convulsing. She continued to move against him, her orgasm going through her, the pleasure intensifying with each stroke. He continued to rub her through it and she thought she might pass out. Her heart raced, threatening to burst and her body shook. Wave after wave, she endlessly shuddered, her screams now lost somewhere in her lungs, her mouth still hanging open. Her legs turned into jelly and she slumped awkwardly into him. She started to tremble, her clit still sending shocks through her body. She closed her legs, trapping his hand against her core, wanting to prolong the feeling.
After for what seemed like too many minutes, Hermione came to her senses. Her head was against Malfoy's shoulder, her wrists were still in his left hand, up her head, and his right hand was currently trapped between her thighs.
She released him with a groan and looked up at him. She gasped when he saw him slowly bring his hand to his mouth and lick his fingers clean. He was tasting her. And she was already getting worked up again. She could feel him rubbing hard against her thigh and she wondered what he would do next; what would happen next.
Oh, Merlin. What is next?
"Granger…" He whispered, licking his finger clean and resting his face against her shoulder.
Hermione felt him shudder against her, she felt his pelvis hit her thigh again and felt him groan against the skin of her shoulder. Had he…?
Draco felt like ramming his head through a fucking wall.
He had just come in his fucking pants.
Great. Fucking great. Real smooth, Draco. First you have your way with the Head Girl and then you have to blow it all up by blowing yourself up against her thighs. And don't even try to excuse yourself with the fucking Firewhisky. You weren't that drunk.
Fucking Granger. Fuck her and her amazing tits and face and body and pussy and smell and taste and… Just fuck.
He didn't know how long they stood like that: his head against her shoulder, her bare breasts against his shirt. He could barely hear her breathing, the only indication that she was actually inhaling and exhaling being the rise and fall of her chest. He noticed that his hand was still gripping her wrists over her head and his arm was starting to ache. Why hadn't he let her go yet? Was he really that afraid she would push him away? Was he really afraid of the Head Girl? Damnit, he was fucked up.
Hermione wasn't sure she was still in the library, she wasn't sure she was still up against that damn wall, with her chest exposed and her knickers still on her knees. Draco Malfoy had just touched her, felt her – tasted her. And she had let him. She had let him touch her, feel her and taste her. She had let him. She could argue all she wanted, she could make arguments for anyone that would catch them like this: he forced me, he bounded me to the wall, he took my wand. She could say that, she could. But deep down she knew. She knew she hadn't fought as hard as she should have. She could have used her wand, she could have pushed him away, she could have kneaded him in the fucking groin. She could have… but she didn't. She let him. She let him touch her…
And she wanted him to do it again.
Fuck. She was doomed. She was so fucking doomed. She couldn't be this messed up, she couldn't… Oh, Merlin.
He let go of her wrists suddenly, probably realizing he was hurting her. If he had been hurting her, she hadn't felt it. She wasn't sure she was even here… Draco Malfoy had just come in his fucking pants and it was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed.
Merlin, she was fucked up.
She brought her wrists down, suspecting they would be bruised in the morning.
"Sorry…"
Hermione looked at Malfoy. Sorry? For what? For the bruises? Or for everything else?
He was avoiding her gaze. His apology just fled his mouth, automatic. He was coming to realize he didn't like to hurt her, at least, not anymore. He didn't enjoy it. Fuck. Had he ever?
Draco Malfoy hated these moments, the moments so many writers and philosophers and common folk described as the moment after. The awkward moment where you are forced to acknowledge everything around you, when your mind isn't clouded by anything. Fuck, if he could, he would choose to always be clouded, always have his mind filled with something: alcohol, passion, anger, anything. If he could, he would, because now he had to stand here and look at Hermione Granger's brown, inquisitorial and teary eyes.
Well don't look at me like that, Granger. I'm as fucked up as you are and I have the stain in my fucking trousers to prove it.
Without even thinking about it, he reached behind her and searched for her bra clasp, noticing how her eyes had widened. He just… He needed to fucking do something. He needed to cloud his fucking mind. So, he reached behind her and hooked her bra, helping her confine her breasts back. Her beautiful, so beautiful, sofuckingbeautiful
Ok, that's too much clouding. His now soft cock twitched. Fuck, how did she do this?
Draco then reached for her knickers and stockings.
"I can do it myself." He heard her say.
Well tough, Granger. I want to. Don't ask me why, but I need to.
Hermione was mortified, wishing she was anywhere but here at this point. When people talked to her about sex and their random rendezvous and whatnot, they always forgot to mention the awkward and embarrassing aftermath. She blushed even harder when Malfoy just pushed up her knickers past her bum. Taking her clothes off was one thing but dressing her? It just felt so much dirtier, like he was trying to hide the fact that it had happened; hide the fact that he just had his hand under her skirt moments ago. Was that what this was about? Was this Malfoy trying to erase the previous actions? And why did the thought of him regretting it, upset her? Why did she care what he felt? Why did she care at all?
"Do you want your sweater?"
Seriously, Malfoy? Why… What?
She simply nodded.
Draco reached down next to her to pick her sweater and wand in the process. He gave them to her and noticed that he still had the stain on his trousers.
Fuck. He couldn't believe he was asking her this but he had left his wand back at the dorm.
"Can you…?" He pointed to the stain.
Hermione seemed to turn eleven shades or red, realizing immediately what he was asking her to do. Really, Malfoy!? How can you be so, so… blasé about this? Doesn't it bother you? Doesn't it bother you that you just had your hands on me, that you just came in your pants because of me? Doesn't any of this bother you? Do you think this is normal? Do you think this is us? And what do I mean, us? There isn't us! Fuck!
She needed to get out of here.
With trembling hands, Hermione pointed her wand at the stain on his trousers – Oh my God, what the hell am I doing, please let this be a nightmare, so embarrassed – and mumbled a quick Scourgify.
As soon as the stain disappeared, Hermione quickly pulled the sweater over her head, now very anxious to grab her things and leave. She had to leave. Now.
Draco didn't stop her when she pushed herself of the wall and went around him to gather her stuff quickly from the table beside him. He felt a bit disappointed at this, but he swallowed the feeling. What could he say anyway? Or better, what the fuck did he want?
He felt the need to say something. He had to say something. They couldn't keep doing this. This had to stop. He had to stop. So, yeah. He wanted her. Fine. He had come to terms with that. But acting on it… that was different. And it had happened two times already.
And you want it to happen again.
No. Fuck. No. It couldn't. She was… She was on the other side. She was the enemy. She was Granger. She was fucking Granger. Harry Saint Potter's Mudblood friend. She was… She was… tainted. She was wrong. This was wrong. All wrong.
So wrong, that she had to clean your fucking cum stain?
"Fuck!"
Hermione had just slung her bag over her shoulder when she heard Malfoy's profanity. When he realized he had actually said that out loud, he looked back at her. He was seemingly uncomfortable and struggling with something. Well, welcome to the club Malfoy. I'm completely fucked up. I just want to go far, far away from here. So, please, don't say anything and just let me leave. Let's try and forget. Let's just forget. Isn't that what you said, a couple of years back, in this same library? That none of it ever happened? Let's do that. Let's forget.
"Granger."
A pause. Her breath halting.
"I… This…" Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She remained. Waiting.
He tried again.
"I mean… I was drunk. And…"
And? And what?
They stood there, looking at each other. Waiting. Trying to understand, trying to get somewhere. Something in the air. The air was thick. It was thick and heavy. And words. Words wanted to come out. What words? The need to talk, the need not to talk. Everything and nothing. And there they stood, looking at each other, during this moment. That moment, the aftermath moment.
Hermione needed to get out of here.
"I…"
Malfoy kept silent at the sound of her small voice.
She filled herself up with all the Gryffindor courage she could muster and said the only thing she could feel at the moment:
"I just want to go to my dorm. I need to finish my essay."
Pause. Thick air. Lungs working.
Tic-toc, tic-toc.
"Sure. Yeah, sure. Ok." He answered dumbly.
And with that she fled, like she had fled the first time, but Draco knew, he would never forget.
So? What did you think? Be honest with me. Did I smut it right? Haha kidding. But seriously, be honest, because I struggled a lot with this chapter.
Anyway the next chapter is written and I'm currently working on the one after that one. Sorry again for the wait. And thank-you for sticking with this. All of you, the readers, the reviewers and the lurkers: thank-you.
Have a wonderful day, night, afternoon, morning! :)
