Chapter 8: Interrogation
Draco took a few more minutes to regain his equilibrium before the cool air of a drafty castle in Scotland reminded him that his dick was lying wet and limp against his thigh while he lay there in the wrecked bed of Hermione Granger, the girl he had basically hated and definitely ridiculed for years. If he wasn't so damn sated, to the point where he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to move any time soon, his head might have actually exploded at the thought.
But he was sated. He wasn't quite sure how they had gotten to this point, and his brain had yet to catch up to his body, but he wasn't complaining. Since the train ride the little witch had been in his thoughts and those thoughts were anything but antagonistic, as evidenced by his very recent activities. Waking up to her tight little body pressed against his, the heat from her core scorching his thigh, was the best wake-up call he'd ever gotten. When she responded to him, that pretty little sound coming out of that pretty little mouth, he had to see if it was genuine, if it had been him that she was responding to. So he had pulled her head back, made her look at him, and she had made that sound again.
Seven years of animosity completely obliterated by two days of uneasy truce, a flash of pert breasts, and a whimper. He'd had her beneath him and writhing against his cock in moments, the smell of her arousal filling his nose and stripping away his good sense. He might have been content to grind against her wet heat until they both came in their pants like 5th years but she was having none of it. He was surprised but damned happy when she grabbed his bottoms and gave him permission to take it much further than he had originally intended.
Her breasts felt amazing in his hands and against his tongue and her pussy…scorching hot, tight as a glove, and the best thing he had ever felt engulfing his favorite appendage. She had whined, moaned, groaned, and gasped as she ran her nails through his hair and down his back. She had urged him on with her body and the greedy grasps of her dripping cunt, stripping away his self control until he was pounding into her with abandon, not giving a fuck about slow and easy and gentle. Before he lost his load in her, he remembered that her pleasure was important, too and had attacked her clit the same way he had attacked her mouth.
When she came, screaming his name whether she was aware of it or not, that combined with the unyielding grip of her tightened quim pushed him headfirst into his own orgasm and he had buried himself deep in her, his hipbones grinding against hers, as if he could absorb her into his own skin if he could just… get… close… enough.
Of course, reality set in fairly quickly. He remembered that he was Draco Malfoy, school pariah, Death Eater, kind of, and the boy who had tormented her for years and she was Hermione Granger, co-savior of the wizarding world and too damn pure for the likes of him. So he had rolled away and she had wasted no time in fleeing the room, the panties he hadn't even bothered removing keeping his seed from slipping down her legs as she ran.
And that led him back to the present, still sprawled rather inelegantly with his prick flopping uselessly out in the open. He summoned enough strength to tuck himself back in his bottoms, grimacing a bit at the stickiness, but didn't remove himself from her room. They were going to need to talk, sooner rather than later, and not just about the sex. He knew that if he went back to his room there was a decent chance he wasn't going to see the witch for a few days at least and he was not going to let this sit and fester until she decided she was ready to talk.
He needed his sleep and had his own nightmares to deal with; he didn't need to add hers to the mix and he certainly didn't want to keep starring as the villain in them. So they were going to talk about feelings or some shit like that and maybe fuck again…no, bad idea; she's Hermione Granger and you're Draco Malfoy and while the sun is currently still shining and the earth did not stop spinning we are not going to keep tempting fate. Even if she has a box of…no, nope, not going there.
Draco vaguely heard the shower start, the silencing charm of the previous day obviously not still in place. The idea of joining her in the shower popped to the forefront of his mind but he dismissed it. He would give her some space to get her thoughts together and confront her when she returned to the room to dress for the day. Unless she didn't return. She was Hermione Granger and Draco had no doubts that she could and probably would transfigure the couch cushions into a uniform if she was determined to avoid him.
With that thought in mind, Draco rolled out of her bed, albeit reluctantly, and stalked towards the bathroom, hell-bent on confronting the chit and coming to a satisfactory solution for their nighttime problems. Whether he was more interested in dealing with the nightmare situation or the newly discovered sexual compatibility, he wasn't willing to overanalyze. He slipped into the steam-filled cubicle in time to hear her inner monologue that she apparently had trouble keeping "inner", muffled occasionally as she ducked under the spray.
"Seven years! He was gurgle he said grumble mudblood! Ridicule and degradation every time splutter I slapped him, for Merlin's sake. He was such a prat…is such a prat…and so cocky and superior and irritating and…my god, good…so very, very glug glug!"
Draco smirked, cocky just as she described him. He knew what he could do. Now he knew what she could do, at least a bit of it anyway. He was very interested in learning more, whether he was quite ready to admit it or not. It was the work of a moment to drop his trousers and step in behind her in the seriously too small shower stall. He wasn't going to lie; the squeak that came out of her mouth and the way she instantly covered her breasts, while leaving her cunt bare to his gaze, was unfathomably adorable and he snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? This is a violation of my privacy, Malfoy! I demand you-oof…mph…glug!" she gurgled as Draco shoved her face back under the water, which was the most expedient way he could think of to shut her up, though only the second-most pleasurable option. Third, if he could have gotten her on her knees fast enough!
"I swear, Malfoy, if you don't…grglmphfft," and back into the water she went.
Draco decided this was actually the most pleasurable option as he watched her splutter, the water sluicing off her pert nose, her hair sticking to her face, reminding him of a poodle caught in a rainstorm. He laughed again, not even trying to stop it. She must have realized she couldn't win with her current stratagem because this time when she emerged she was cool and collected. She released her breasts to calmly gather her hair out of her face and wipe off the excess water around her eyes so she could properly glare at him.
"Look, I don't know what the hell is happening, or why, or what you want from me," the witch began, voice steady and at least at a pitch that humans could hear. "I obviously can't deny that the events of this morning were…enjoyable…but…"
"Enjoyable, kitten? When you come so hard you scream loud enough to wake the dead, there are better and more appropriate adjectives than merely 'enjoyable'." Draco liked the way her cheeks flamed red, though she didn't avert her eyes or show any other signs of embarrassment. "One enjoys a good cuppa, a great book, and a lazy Sunday afternoon. Believe me; I wouldn't describe the feel of your cunt wrapped around my cock as merely enjoyable. Though I wouldn't object to a repeat performance, just to make sure my memory isn't faulty." The words were out before he remembered that he had already decided they weren't going there again. Not before they cleared the air and resolved both of their nightmare issues.
The woman's pupils dilated and her breath caught in her chest and that was all Draco needed to ditch his resolve and dive headfirst into bad decisions, without the haze of sleep to potentially blame it on this time. Her lips were so soft beneath his, her tongue meeting his eagerly, once again tasting of coffee and vanilla though he didn't know how that was possible. Maybe he was just projecting. Whatever. Her breasts, slick from the water and whatever shampoo she had been rinsing out when he had entered the stall, were soft and full against his chest, pebbled nipples crushed against him, and her tight, rounded ass felt amazing clenched in his hands.
She was very petite, which made the position uncomfortable as he had to bend quite a bit to reach her mouth. His solution? Lift her and press her up against the wall, her shapely legs wrapped around his hips and her quim perfectly positioned against his renewed hard on. Draco pulled back, unable to resist the chance to be cocky.
"Do you enjoy this, kitten?" he asked before he sucked at a sensitive spot behind her ear. "Or maybe this is what you find so… enjoyable," he rumbled against her neck as he trailed his lips lower, to her clavicle, which he licked and nipped. "Brace yourself, Granger, because you're really going to enjoy this next part." And that was the last either of them spoke for a while.
Draco lowered Hermione's feet to the floor of the shower and knelt in front of her, kissing a line down her sternum, biting at her bellybutton, and throwing her right leg over his shoulder before licking a long swipe up her center, starting at her slick channel and ending at her swollen clit. The cute little hiccupping gasp she made practically dared him to repeat the motion. So of course he did.
Draco wasn't one of those blokes who would describe a girl's cunt as sweet, or delicious, or any other ridiculous descriptor used to talk about flesh that tasted simply of flesh. He wouldn't call Hermione's flavor anything clichéd like honeyed or sweat cream. Her pussy tasted like pussy, like clean flesh with a tinge of chemicals most likely due to her recent use of body wash. What made her pussy the best he had ever had the pleasure of tasting was her unbridled, unselfconscious reaction.
Her small hands dug at his scalp as she pressed him closer, arching her hips to position him just so. She didn't try to quiet her responses or temper them in any way but rather moaned, groaned, whimpered, mewled like the kitten he named her, and grunted profanities like a fishwife as he licked her again and again. He circled her vagina, nibbled at her labia, thrust inside her channel, and sucked at her clit. All the while she rocked her hips and ground her pussy down against his lips and chin, tugging at his hair quite painfully if he was being honest. He didn't care. He ate at her voraciously, engaging his nose and his stubbled chin to keep her entire core stimulated until finally, finally, finally she came, juices not gushing out of her like some unrealistic porno but rather trickling into his mouth and a bit down his chin as he lapped at her until her contractions ceased and her body went limp above him.
He couldn't help what he said next. It was the snarky, cocky Malfoy in him. Looking up at the flushed and panting witch, he smirked as he asked, "So, kitten, did you enjoy that?"
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Hermione gasped, sucking in air through her mouth in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs. The lack of oxygen to her brain was surely to blame for what she did and said in response. Hermione let her Gryffindor out to play and jerked Draco's head back by his stupidly soft hair. Staring into his stormy eyes she gave a smirk as good as she got and answered his question simply.
"I'd enjoy it more if you shut the hell up and put your mouth to better use, peacock," she purred before shoving his face back between her legs.
Of course, Draco wasn't the type to be ordered around. He licked her slowly, like an ice cream, for a mere moment before he stood and crushed her lips beneath his in a bruising kiss. Hermione could taste herself on his tongue. It was a new experience for sure. Ron was a great receiver but not much of a giver when it came to oral sex. He would perform it under duress but only for a few minutes, to get her going so to speak, and then he was up and in her and too busy grunting in her ear to kiss her like this. At the time she hadn't minded because he always made sure she came too, and oral wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea.
Hermione liked the combined flavor of his tongue and her pussy but her taste test was short-lived because Draco stepped away from her and spun her around to face the wall, the water from the shower head pummeling her spine and running in heavy rivulets down her sides. She had enough time to brace her hands against the heated tiles before he was slipping into her from behind and thrusting once, twice, three times…and stopping.
"We need to talk, Granger," Draco drawled with a slow circling of his hips.
"Now?" Hermione shrieked. "What do we need to talk about right now? Because I can't think of anything so important that you need to stop…"
"Last night," Draco interrupted with a short, quick thrust. "Nightmares that I apparently star in, kitten."
"Way to kill a mood, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled as she stepped further into the spray of the shower, intent on dismounting his cock and stepping out of the steamy stall.
He, apparently, was having none of that because he just tightened his grip on her hips and dragged her backwards, causing her hands to slide further down the wall and her back to arch more deeply, the head of his cock bumping against her g-spot as he inched back into place.
"I'm confident I can revive it," he replied smugly. "Has it always been me? In the dream?"
"Fuck," Hermione grunted. "No…yes…not the same way. Can we please talk about this after?"
Draco took pity on her. Or he gave in to his own need for completion because he withdrew from her body just to slam back in as deep as he could go. She hadn't really paid attention to his dick and could only guess at its size based on the way it felt inside her. She felt full, not overly so as if he was gargantuan in proportion but perfectly full. So he was thick and long enough to bump her cervix in this position. And he definitely knew how to work it so she was content with not knowing the specifics, for now. She was sure she sounded like a dying animal as he continued to ram into her hard and deep but she couldn't stop herself. It felt damned good and it wasn't too long before she could feel her vagina tightening up and her lower abdomen fluttering, signs of an impending orgasm, which was a miracle since she had no clitoral stimulation once his cock came into play and generally orgasm from penetration was rare for her.
Draco slowed to a…not a stop but slow enough it might as well have been a complete cessation of movement as far as her body was concerned. Hermione was pretty sure she was going to cry in frustration. She felt his hands trail up her spine to her shoulders before he lifted her back until they were pressed together full body.
He licked her earlobe before whispering directly into her ear. "Tell me, kitten, or I'll leave you like this…on the edge…unfulfilled." His cock pressed up into her inch by inch, so slowly she had plenty of time to feel every ridge along his shaft.
"Shit. It's the manor and…usually it is only memory…fuck, your cock feels bloody fantastic…but sometimes it's you and not her…I don't know why it changed…gods, Malfoy, please, move!" Hermione needed him to move, needed to come like she had never needed anything else in her entire life. Besides needing this conversation to end, that is.
"I would never…you have to know that, Hermione," Draco affirmed, his lips against her neck and his hands traveling her body until they came to rest, one gripping her left breast and the other cupping her sex. The water rained down on their bodies, still warm thanks to magic, and a cloud of steam surrounded them, making her head swim. "I don't want to hurt you, kitten. I want to make you feel good."
"Prove it, Draco," Hermione moaned, goading him.
She felt him smirk against her shoulder. "Terrible Slytherin. That was very obvious. Luckily, I'm in a generous mood."
Draco's fingers plucked at her nipple and her clit while his cock picked up where it had left off, in-and-outing in a steady rhythm meant to bring a quick climax to the both of them. Hermione whined and praised whichever deity gave Draco his inherent skill, or whichever woman taught him how to fuck properly, because she was definitely reaping the benefits. Her belly tightened and she came, again unable to contain her scream.
Draco didn't seem to mind though because he grunted and came a few thrusts later. Her noises during sex had often turned Ron off, apparently distracting him from his pleasure, so she had learned to temper them while they were together. Draco hadn't complained so far and since changing herself to suit Ron's needs hadn't made him stay with her, she didn't see the point in changing herself for Draco so even if he did say something...oh, the fuck, well.
The lightheaded feeling left over from her orgasm and the overabundance of steam in the tiny room was working against her. All she wanted to do was lie down somewhere cool and catch her breath. Draco must have felt similarly because he slipped out of her, turned the valve to 'off', and dragged her out of the shower and across the common room to his bedroom. A few swish and flicks later and they were dry and lounging in his absurdly hedonistic bed. Well, Draco was lounging. Hermione was having a bit of an existential crisis now that the sex was over and her head was clearing and she found herself cuddling naked with Draco Malfoy in his bed, her head pillowed on his strong chest and his arms wrapped around her. It was surreal, to say the least.
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Draco wasn't really comfortable with the silence that permeated his bedroom. He felt he needed to say something and he still wanted to get to the bottom of this nightmare business.
"I can't make the nightmares stop," Draco said apologetically. "I can't even make my own stop, not without Dreamless Sleep and that stuff is addictive. It isn't pretty coming off it, either. We can…talk…if you want. Like therapy or whatever or…shit, I don't know. But if it helps, we can do that."
"What is going on here, Draco?" Hermione asked. "Two days ago you still hated me, if you thought of me at all, and now we're…having sex and cuddling and sharing our troubles? Have we been enchanted? Or cursed? Why are you not freaking out right now?"
"Well, at least you went with 'enchanted' before 'cursed'. I guess I should be flattered," Draco answered with a chuckle, honestly glad despite the casual way he said it. "I'm going to go against my nature here and be straight with you. I don't like that I'm in your nightmares. I don't like hearing you scream my name in fear and pain, but feel free to scream it in pleasure a few hundred more times, kitten. I don't like being kept up at night by my nightmares, let alone yours. Hell, maybe talking to me will help you and..well, it isn't like I have anyone to talk to, so maybe talking to you will help me, too. Don't get all sentimental about it, eh?"
Way to be an ass. She's sure to open up to you now. Just fuck it all up, Draco, per usual.
To say he was relieved when the witch hugged him closer and placed a gentle kiss to his ribs would have been an understatement. He didn't know what this was and he wasn't going to think about it too much. He was going to take what he could get and when she came to her damn senses and ended it, he would let it go, let her go, and return to the torture that was his life until June when he could finally be free to leave this place and the manor and to start to live his life, his way.
"We're going to miss breakfast," was all she said before rolling out of his arms and leaving him to his own thoughts and morning ablutions.
