"Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unguarded yellow sun."
Draco read the first line of the odd guidebook aloud. It had appeared on Granger's dresser sometime between last night and this morning, and the unfamiliar title intrigued him. He'd already peeked at several of the other volumes that had appeared previously, though he hadn't yet spent the time to read one through. He continued scanning this volume, intrigued by the premise, and learning it was hardly a guidebook at all, leaving him more confused about the whole idea of hitchhiking than he was before he started.
A soft knock sounded through the door, and Draco begrudgingly pulled himself away from the book and up off of Granger's bed to answer it.
His mother was on the other side, her concerned eyes moving slowly across his face before speaking. "Draco, darling, I was just about to pop downstairs for tea. Care to join me?"
"No thank you, Mother, I'm happy to stay here until heading out to Hemlock later this evening."
Narcissa bit her lip worriedly. "It's just that you've been in this room for days, dear. I know you're eager to find out the identity of your witch - believe me, we all are - but I'm not sure it's healthy to be spending all your time here in this room."
"I don't spend all my time in this room, Mother," Draco countered. "I go to Hemlock every Thursday evening."
"I hardly think having drinks with Blaise and Theo once a week counters all the time you spend holed up in here. Besides, who's to say you won't meet your partner by happenstance? You'll never find her if you only spend your time in here, trying to piece clues together with no context."
Draco hadn't told his parents that he'd figured out the identity of his witch. He wasn't entirely sure how they'd react - they seemed open to the idea that his partner might not be pureblood, but announcing to them that it was the Golden Girl Hermione Granger herself was something different. Besides, he wasn't certain their relationship would progress beyond this weird stalking-her-copy-bedroom version they were in now, so it didn't seem worth it to have that conversation with his parents just yet.
"It's not just Blaise and Theo," Draco muttered, leaning against the door jamb.
"No, I'm sure it isn't," Narcissa said spitefully. "And I hope whatever 'other company' you choose to spend your time with is made well aware of your…. situation."
Draco's anger rose at her words. Did she think he was just slagging around these past few weeks? Well he supposed he did set that precedent pretty early on and did nothing to convince his parents otherwise. "I'm not-" he started defensively before taking a deep breath and reconsidering his words. "I know what I'm doing, Mother. I just ask that you and Father both give me space to keep figuring it out."
Features softening, Narcissa reached out a delicate hand to Draco's face, resting her palm against his cheek motherly. "I know we'll get through this, Draco. Whoever she is, I know she'll fall for you as soon as she gets to know you. Just you wait and see."
With that, Narcissa left Draco to his own devices in the room while continuing on downstairs for tea alone. Draco closed the door and collapsed against it, sighing as his back hit the solid wood. "I know what I'm doing," he repeated to himself. "Merlin, what a joke."
He left the door and flopped back onto the bed, the scratchy cotton sheets now almost comforting against the line of exposed skin on his back between his jumper and trousers. He rubbed his eyes harshly with his palms, attempting to relieve the pressure of a headache he could feel building.
After dancing with Granger last week he'd felt fantastic. He'd come home and had honestly the best wank of his entire life before falling asleep effortlessly in Granger's bed. He'd spent the next few days in a haze of picking through any new belongings that appeared in the room, cat napping in Granger's bed, and having a couple more wanks to the image of her sultry eyes looking down at him through a halo of brown curls. It was no wonder he'd never left the room, instead choosing to have the elves deliver his meals to his bedroom where he popped out briefly to grab a bite before returning to the ritual room.
That had started to change by Monday. Waking up from another delicious night of sleeping in Granger's bed, Draco's mind and hand both started to wander to more explicit territory. He'd imagined Granger in bed beside him, curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder as she slowly started pumping him awake, a sensuous and gravelly "good morning" leaving her delectable lips.
He gripped his cock desperately, already close to coming with these thoughts in his mind. Imaginary-Granger sped up her pumps to match his own, her breaths coming out in little pants as she worked her arm muscles to keep up with his aggressive tempo, never missing a beat.
Imaginary-Granger's face started to show signs of strain, and her smile broke into a slight grimace when she realised she wasn't going to be able to keep up. Clever as she was, she kept pumping him while she bent down and deftly took the tip of his cock into her hot, wet mouth.
"Merlin, fuck," Draco groaned, using his other hand to rub the tip of his dripping cock in a pale imitation of Granger's imaginary mouth. His thighs clenched so hard his hips lifted up off the bed, straining to reach his hands even as they pulled away to pump ferociously down once again. He could almost feel his cock pulsating in his hands.
Draco was now groaning loudly with every thrust, face flushed and eyes clenched shut focusing on the version of Granger that existed only behind his eyelids. Imaginary-Granger's mouth took him in even further, and she hollowed her cheeks as she pulled back up. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and she gave a single deep moan that vibrated all the way down his cock deep into his core where he could feel his release just waiting to explode.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he panted, coiling and tightening in preparation to again come spectacularly all over his stomach and chest. "I'm so fucking close, Granger. Merlin, don't stop, please" His voice turned desperate, pleading with the imaginary witch to let him crest over that wall of release.
"Come for me, Draco," Imaginary-Granger instructed, speaking at the tip of his cock, never stopping her up and down movements. Draco's movements turned frantic, fighting against the weakness in his arms that was quickly developing from overuse. His palms were raw, burning from the friction against his cock.
"Merlin, I'm almost-" A gasp. "Granger, gods, keep going, fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop" The mantra continued, both in his head and aloud, until he angrily pulled his hands away from his cock and slammed both fists against the bed.
"Fuck!" he yelled, his voice now angry instead of just desperate. His red swollen cock stood angrily between his legs, begging for a release he couldn't give it.
It had been several days since then, and Draco had only tried wanking once more within that time to make sure there was a pattern. He couldn't bring himself to try anymore, he was already as excited as a 16 year old around Granger as it was, and adding more failed jerk sessions to his memories wasn't going to help anything there. He felt on edge, like anything could set him off at any moment, and he was certain he needed to avoid any dancing tonight as he was so randy he was liable to embarrass himself if he tried.
Draco blearily opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, arms falling to either side on the bed as he drew himself out of his memory. Growling, he slowly sat himself up, deciding it probably wouldn't be too early for him to start getting ready to head out to Hemlock. He'd grab a quick cold shower and get dressed into fresh clothing before arriving just early enough to be firmly settled at the table and one or two drinks in before anyone else got there.
When he entered his room, a piece of parchment folded into the shape of a peacock immediately crashed into his forehead, continuing to tap against him until he reached an arm up to grab it. He knew it to be a message from either Theo or Blaise, as the three had developed this annoyingly unique method of Floo communication - the white paper peacock - while they were boys, and the tradition persisted into adulthood.
He uncrumpled the parchment and immediately recognized Blaise's slanted script.
Not coming tonight. Ok, maybe coming tonight, but not at Hemlock. Have fun. I know I will. -B. and Weasley
Well that was interesting. Draco knew the pair had seemingly hit it off last week, but to already be skipping out on drinks and presumably spending the evening at Blaise's manor seemed quick. Draco had no worries of Blaise being used as a rebound from Weasley's recent breakup; knowing Blaise, this was the perfect way to expand his horizons into the Gryffindor house without any worries of commitment.
Draco quickly got ready, trying his best to not think of Granger in any fashion lest it lead to inappropriate thoughts being top of mind when meeting her later. He managed a successful shower and selected a nice but normal set of clothes before grabbing a handful of floo powder and heading out.
No one was there when he arrived, as expected, and he took his normal seat at their normal table. Promptly ordering a beverage for himself, he settled into his Thursday evening routine quite thoroughly. He caught the sight of a large bushy head of hair out of his peripheral vision and immediately knew it to be Granger.
She rushed down onto her regular chair in one of the most unladylike fashions Draco could imagine. He thought about Granger plopping down on one of the manor chairs in such a fashion as he introduced her to his parents, which caused an amused smile to grace his lips.
"What's so funny?" Granger asked, without introduction. She was notably the exact opposite of prim and proper pureblood lady.
"Nothing," Draco answered. "Where's Potter?"
Hermione turned back from speaking with the waiter (a polite "Yes, good evening, doing well, thank you, and you? Lovely. Yes I'd love a gin and tonic, extra splash of lemon if you please. Yes, thank you very much"; she seemed to have manners for the wait staff, anyway) and said "Harry's running late. There were a few things in the office he said he needed to take care of first and suggested Theo and I head off ahead of him, and he'd catch up in a few."
Noting a distinct lack of Theo with Hermione, Draco waited for the next part of the story. "Of course you know how those two have been basically joined at the hip for weeks now, so instead of coming with me, Theo decided to stare longingly at Harry's shoulders as he finished up his work."
Draco snorted. "Well at least I know where I stand compared to Potter's shoulders. And I'm sure they've been joined at more than just the hip, Granger."
Hermione blushed, pausing to again politely thank the waiter for delivering her beverage. She took a gentle sip before continuing "I suppose you've heard from Blaise that he and Ginny won't be in attendance tonight?"
Draco nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I did hear. Though I can't say I'm sure how I feel about two of my fellow Slytherins crossing enemy lines to be with Gryffindors." The jest in his tone was apparent.
"I suppose it doesn't much matter how we feel, does it? It's not like we can change anything." Taking another drink, she seemed to ponder over her next words before saying them aloud. "Maybe they know something you don't about us Gryffindors. Maybe there's a Gryffindor out there willing to help you learn."
He felt his whole body heating in reaction to her words, and he was sure his eyes must have darkened noticeably. She was looking directly into them.
"Perhaps there is," he said slowly, attempting to keep his voice flat.
She seemed to notice his discomfort, and though he wasn't sure she knew exactly why, she did seem to think it at least a little amusing based on the smile she was trying to hide behind her palm. Eyes twinkling, she instructed "Don't Panic", in a voice that indicated she was quoting something while mocking his uncomfortable look.
"It's the first helpful or intelligible thing anyone's said to me all day," he said automatically, having just been reading the book this morning and therefore very familiar with the rest of the "Don't Panic" quote.
Her jaw dropped, and she fumbled to catch her drink after accidentally loosening her grip on the glass in surprise. "You know Douglas Adams?" Her voice was almost a screech, it was so filled with incredulity.
How did he tell her that yes, he was familiar with the author because he was reading a book by him this morning because he'd found it sitting on her dresser in the magical copy of her bedroom he'd been essentially living in for the past week?
"A bit," he decided, casually. "Just getting into him really."
"Oh, Malfoy, you are in for a treat! What have you read so far? The first in the Hitchhiker series, obviously. Such a coincidence as I had just finished re-reading it yesterday."
"Only that one," he admitted. Interesting that she was just done with the book when he happened to find it. He wasn't sure if there was any link between the timing of when things appeared in the ritual room and what Granger might be doing with them, or if there even was a link. No one had experienced the ritual quite like he was, with objects showing up one by one.
"When I get home tonight I'll pull out the others in the series and bring them to you next week," She decided, seemingly taking for granted that he would of course accept a free offering of books. "I can hardly believe you read Muggle fiction!"
"Er, just getting into it, really," he repeated dumbly in an attempt to head off any future probing into a subject that he knew next to nothing about.
He could see the gears turning inside her head, and imagined she was planning which books for him to read next and prioritising the order based on what she assumed about his preferences from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. He recognized the name "Pratchett" from her almost indecipherable ramblings, though he didn't think any of the other books or authors she was muttering had shown up in his room just yet.
Merlin, how many books did this witch have? Already more books had appeared in the room than Draco kept in his own, and from the sounds of it there were even more still.
Granger asked how far along he was in the book, and the two began discussing some of the parts he'd already read. They ordered another round of drinks, then another, discussing the parallels of demolishing planets for an expressway - interrupted by explaining what an expressway was in the Muggle world - and destroying animal habitat to make way for human development. This further devolved into what a car was, how muggles used them for transportation, their advantages and limitations when compared with magical means of transportation.
It wasn't until their fourth round of drinks that they noticed Potter and Theo still hadn't shown up.
"Do you think they're alright?" Draco asked. "They should have been here by now, yeah?"
Granger nodded. "Yeah, Harry made it seem like he didn't have too much left to do."
"You suppose we should check on them? Floo in and maybe convince them to-"
"NO!" Granger's interruption was abrupt, and a large red flush stained her face. Grimacing, she elaborated "The last time I walked into Harry's office when he was running late I found Theo on his knees in front of him and a look on Harry's face I NEVER want to see again." She shuddered. "Not ever."
"Fair point," Draco acceded. "We'll assume they've both decided on alternate company for the evening." Tilting back his glass and finishing his last round of beverages, steeling himself to find courage in the handful of drinks he'd imbibed so far tonight, Draco asked "So Granger - what's the plan for the evening?"
With the blush still gracing her cheeks, she smiled coyly. "I have an idea, if you're up for it."
Fifteen minutes later, Draco found himself standing in the middle of Granger's flat while she shucked off her shoes and went into the kitchen to pour them both a glass of wine. Popping back out a moment later with two glasses filled partway with straw coloured liquid, she handed one to Draco and used the now free hand to drift along one of the several bookshelves crowding the main living space, looking for a particular volume.
"This is a lot of books," he said dumbly, taking the glass from her hand. Their fingers didn't brush, but even just this proximity caused the burning warmth in his chest to ignite once more.
"Hmm," was her noncommittal response, as if it was something she'd heard many times already. Her fingers suddenly stopped, and she pulled out a title called The Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe. She handed it to him, and he flipped it open with his one free hand. He could see the same photo of the man in the book he'd been reading earlier - Douglas Adams, he supposed - and assumed this must be the next book in the series. He'd noticed the space left in the bookshelf where the book was removed seemed larger than it should be, which made sense if the first volume was currently sitting in Granger's room about three quarters of the way along her dresser, close to where she kept her necklace when not wearing it.
"Thanks, Granger. I'll get to reading it this week. My life of leisure offers lots of time for it, as you know." He poked fun at one of their earlier conversations about whether he'd been actually doing anything at the manor since their Hogwarts days.
"I expect a full report next Thursday, when I'll deliver your next assignment."
"Don't let Blaise hear you say that," Draco warned. "He's got a bit of a professor / librarian thing going on. Not sure how that developed with the likes of McGonagall and Pince in our school years, but I try not to think about it."
Hermione laughed. "I'm sure I'll be hearing far more about Blaise's kinks than I'd like to once Ginny and I next chat."
Draco filed that piece of information away for later. Apparently Granger and Weasley chatted about their more explicit affairs. He wondered what he might be able to learn from Blaise in time if his friend kept seeing Weasley.
Draco shrunk the book and placed it in his pocket to make sure he wouldn't forget to take it. They were both still holding their half-drunk glasses of wine so he assumed he wasn't expected to leave straight away.
"Would you like a tour?" she offered. Draco thought it was a bit silly to tour a flat as small as hers appeared to be, but was happy to stay in her company for a while more, so he obliged. They started in the living room, with Granger spending a disproportionately large amount of time talking about her books and bookshelves more than anything else in the room. They moved on to her modest sized kitchen, an unused looking front entranceway with a few pairs of flats and an umbrella visible near the door, and a spare bedroom which was filled, unsurprisingly, with more books.
She hesitated before opening the last door, and Draco suspected this must be her room. She sputtered a couple of obligatory "don't mind the mess"s and "I try to keep it tidy but it keeps getting away from me"s before opening the door and entering the room, leaving space behind her for him to enter as well.
He would have known it to be her room immediately, even if it wasn't here in her house. It looked exactly like the ritual room, but more full and vivid. He immediately spied many of the items he'd been browsing through the past few weeks, in exactly the place he'd expected to find them.
"I'll just run in and grab the first book while I'm in here so I can pop it back on the shelf," Granger said, walking across the room to her nightstand beside her bed. Shaking his head, Draco took two steps towards her dresser and reached for the book with hardly a glance. "Here Granger," he offered.
She looked at him in surprise. "Oh, you found it quickly."
"Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes helps," he said, starting to feel uncomfortable with the knowledge he was keeping from her.
"Well that's the end of the tour. Not as large as your home, I'm aware, but it's enough for me."
"It suits you, Granger," he said, stepping backwards into the hallway and waiting for her to follow him. He waited for her to lead the way back into the living room. "Small, predictable, filled with books."
"Hey!" she protested playfully. "I'm not predictable!"
Draco's eyes moved towards the spare room down the hallway that was filled with books, then pointedly back at her. "Really?" he drawled.
"Liking books is hardly a defining characteristic. Just because I like books and keep them in my house doesn't mean I'm predictable."
"I think that's exactly what it means, Granger. There's nothing wrong with being predictable. Some of the greatest witches and wizards in history got to be so great precisely because they were predictable. In fact, I'm fairly certain that-"
His voice was abruptly cut off by Granger's lips pressed up against his.
His eyes widened, then closed as the fire within him ignited. Sparks, flames, starbursts and lightning all exploded within him at once, forcing themselves through his body and out through his skin in waves of intense warmth alternating with tingling coolness. Her lips pressed gently against his, unmoving, but not retreating either. Before she could decide to pull back, Draco moved his lips to slant over hers in a gentle caress.
Granger emitted the tiniest, softest moan at this change in position. It was barely audible, and Draco would never have heard it if he hadn't been so close to her and so keenly attuned to her every movement. Holding back what would have been a much louder, intense vibrating moan into her mouth, Draco tried again to move his lips against hers, feeling the heat and softness surrounding him.
He heard Granger's wine glass fall to the floor and he felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down to better meet her. The kiss was moving from shy and gentle to intense and demanding, and he was surprised again when he felt her wet tongue probe against his lower lip, teasing before demanding entrance. His own glass fell to the ground now, surely spilling his remaining wine all over Granger's hardwood floor.
Her tongue in his mouth felt as good as he remembered fucking a witch to feel. His whole body reacted, and he could feel her kiss from his lips to his toes. She made another soft moaning sound against his lips, and the sound amplified as it passed over his ears and shot directly to his centre.
Draco's thighs clenched. He could feel her warm stomach pressed against him, just as when they were dancing. Except this time her tongue was in his mouth, his in hers, and he was grasping the back of her head as if she was going to disappear and his hands were the only thing keeping her here. Her soft chest pressed against his stomach, encouraging him to imagine the weight of each breast in his hands and hovering over his face as she was riding him.
Their kiss slowed, and Draco had contemplated continuing on down the side of her neck to see what other sounds he could pull from her, but a timely shift of her hips rubbing against him in just the right way made him groan and reminded him that he hadn't been able to orgasm for days and he was going to certainly embarrass himself if she made one more breathy moan…
"How was that for predictable?" she asked, arms still around his neck and eyes peering straight into his.
"It's-" Draco tried to speak, but his voice came out thick and gravelly so he cleared his throat. "It's certainly less predictable than the books."
She frowned, but in such a way that he could tell she was just teasing.
"I think it's time for me to be heading back now," Draco said, pulling himself out of her arms and carefully sidestepping the fallen glasses on the floor. This was incredibly awkward, he so wanted to keep kissing her and rubbing himself against her, but wasn't sure that they should progress any further tonight, and he was sure he'd make a mess of things if they did. "Sorry about the wine."
"It's ok," Granger cajoled, turning her gaze to the floor and sounding slightly distant and unsure. "I'll clean it up later."
Realising that he needed to clear up this awkwardness in a way that didn't allow any further kissing tonight but certainly allowed further kissing going forward, Draco decided to adjust his retreat.
"Granger," he said, waiting for her to look up at him once more. "There's nothing wrong with predictable. I'm a big fan of predictable, really. Such a fan, in fact, that I'd be happy to turn this very surprising, very unexpected situation into something… well, familiar. Regular. More predictable, one might say.."
He watched her eyes light up and her smile break through once more. "I suppose predictable isn't all bad. I'm sorry I interrupted you before you were able to tell me which witches or wizards used it to their advantage."
"I am very much not sorry you interrupted me, and I would gladly attempt to share that information again if I thought it would get the same reaction." He stepped closer to the fireplace where a ceramic pot of floo powder was hanging on the wall. "On another night. It's getting late, and I've an assignment to complete by next week, if you recall."
"Goodnight, Malfoy" Granger said, giving him a small wave as he announced "Hemlock" and tossed the floo powder into the flames.
"Night Granger. Until next time."
He stepped through the fire, and as the flames flickered and dimmed behind him as he exited into the Hemlock foyer, the intense light and heat inside him dimmed with it.