Prompt/Title: Picture Frame
Character(s): Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter
Summary: Draco finally gets to spend some alone time with Hermione and he uses the time for personal vengeance. There is a lemon.
Rating: M
Word count: 683 according to wordcounter . net
Author's notes: Taking a break from another fic I'm writing for a challenge (I'm avoiding my fest fics, if you haven't noticed). I'm also using this for Patience in the OTP Boot Camp Challenge and Vengeful!Draco for the Character Trait! Boot Camp Challenge.
Slumber and MrsBates93 are wonderful beta's and I thank them from the bottom of my heart.
All drabbles are part of the same timeline but not in order.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize, and maybe even some of the stuff you don't.

It is the first time she had invited him into her flat after a date. He has been dating her for seven months now, and he can't believe how long he had waited to be alone with her. He is Draco Malfoy, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – not a genius compared to her, but he is definitely everything else. He's known as a sex-god for a reason and here he is panting like a puppy trying to get into this girl's knickers. Seven months! And of course he's been too good to wank off. It has started to affect his game. His team, he's sure, is ready to bludger him to death.

"Tea?" Hermione asks as she takes off her coat, blushing all the while.

She's biting her lip, looking at him demurely. He's happy he had epididymal hypertension – it sounded better than blue balls. She's worth it.

"Hermione, we know you didn't invite me in here for tea."

She looks away sheepishly and he bets that the blush went down to her toes. He walks up to her and places his hands onto her hips. "It's okay, Hermione; we don't have to if you don't want to."

He can see the relief in her eyes and he's almost sorry that he said anything – that is until she puts on her Gryffindor face, nods, and says, "No, I want to."

If he weren't Draco Malfoy he'd whoop for joy. He does let himself smile though and his lips descend upon hers. Kissing her is like heaven; her soft pillowy lips, the mewling sound she makes, it all goes straight to his cock. He kisses her lips, jaw, neck, back to her lips, until he has her up against the wall.

She's nibbling at his neck while his hands pull her dress up over her head when he sees the picture frame. Just to the right of her bushy hair, there's a picture of her with her arms wrapped around Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. He sneers and his dick does soften a little. No, he doesn't want that, he hasn't had any in MONTHS, he is going to fuck Hermione, or he'll kill someone – preferably one of the wankers in that picture.

He is about to lead them to the bedroom when he has an epiphany. Hermione would never let him vent his frustration with the dastardly duo in any capacity, so he would stick it to them in another way – in a way that if they knew about it, it would kill them! Now the only question was how to ensure Hermione would unknowingly participate?

He decides to take charge and pulls her up, her thighs wrapping around his hips and her hands burying themselves into his hair – good, she's really into it. He tilts her head back and licks his way down from her lips to between her glorious breasts. She's pulling his shirt off, and soon her bra joins it on the floor. He stares at her tits for a short moment then takes a nipple into his mouth. She moans at the contact.

With one hand he kneads her breast while she is pulling off his belt, unzipping his pants, gripping his cock. Oh god, he can't remember the last time his dick was this hard! He pushes her hand away and starts grinding against her clit.

"Hermione, are you sure you want to do this here?"

She doesn't respond, but she does push her knickers to the side and lines him up against the entrance to her sweet wet folds.

"Hermione, it's going to hurt."

"Just do it, Draco!"

So he thrusts into her. And when she gives him the signal, he thrusts again, getting into a rhythm, smiling in glee for succeeding in his plan. He starts to rub on her clit, bringing her to her first orgasm, his name on her lips.

Once he's climaxed, he looks back at the picture and smirks. The young men in the portrait have looks that would kill – if they weren't stuck in a picture frame. Take that Potty and Weasel!