Hermione's nervous for entirely different reasons the whole next day. It's more anticipation, really, the nerves only coming into play around explaining what she'd been trying to do over the Christmas holidays in more detail, and the fact that Malfoy told her to come to the Come and Go Room. What will he conjure up? Maybe she should get there first?
But she told him she trusted him. She does; he could have shagged her right there in the library Friday night or Saturday night. She doesn't have any reason to worry now. She's just... antsy. That's what it is. She didn't want to go back to her dorm last night.
She's glad it's a weekend. She'd be visibly preoccupied if she'd had lessons over the last couple of days. She's visibly preoccupied anyway.
The Slytherin Quidditch team comes in from practise, striding through the Great Hall like they own the place, and she's immediately distracted by the way Malfoy's Quidditch trousers lace up at the crotch. She knows they do, of course; they're all the same and hasn't she seen Harry and Ron wear them a thousand times?
But she's never imagined unlacing theirs.
She bumps into Susan Bones and apologises in a rush.
Over the past two nights, she's had a new sense of exploration of her own. Friday night she didn't get very far, too rattled by his request that she essentially ask twice. But last night was different. She'd been turned on, standing there between his legs, feeling him hard against her. She'd never had that boiling coil in her stomach before, the almost-desperate drive for more.
If he hadn't stopped, she wouldn't have. And she wouldn't have minded if he didn't; wasn't that why she was there? But his own drive to draw it out is racketing up her anticipation.
'This will move fast enough,' he'd said.
She hopes so.
In the Come and Go Room, he's perfectly casual. She feels like a lunatic that she isn't casual herself, then feels like more of a lunatic. She's chasing her own tail with the cycle of it and wrenches herself to focus.
What he's conjured up looks like a basic flat. Nothing in particular. There's a small breakfast table, a couch with an armchair next to it, and yes, on the far side, a bedroom. But he's nowhere near it. He's in the chair, munching from a tray of snacks on the table in front of the couch. He gestures for her to sit.
"So," he starts, swallowing a mouthful of apple. "How did you end up with a 'sort of'? I wouldn't ask but I think it might matter at some point."
He's probably right, and why should she be embarrassed anyway? He knows the most awkward parts of this ordeal already.
She still shifts uncomfortably on the couch, tucking her feet underneath herself. His eyes follow them without comment. He's wearing the tailored shirt and pants that fit him so well and she makes herself concentrate on the question instead.
"I... picked up a man in a bar. Or, rather, I guess I let him pick me up in a bar."
Malfoy's eyes are wide but he doesn't interrupt. He just takes another bite of apple and motions for her to continue.
"We drank too much. He drank too much," she clarifies, as his eyes narrow at once. "We - well, he tried. I just don't think it would count as a success, that's all."
He takes a moment before responding. "If you aren't sure, it didn't."
"Alright, I'm sure. It didn't." She flushes when she says this and isn't totally sure why.
"Why didn't it?" comes at her next and she's already bright red, so surely it can't get much worse.
"Ah..." she finds it easier to look somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder instead of his face. "Well, he went through three condoms. I'm obviously not one-hundred-percent sure of how things go, but I'm pretty sure you only use more than one if things go extremely well or extremely poorly."
Malfoy's face is completely confused.
"To your point a moment ago, if I'm not sure it went well, that means it went poorly." This doesn't seem to clarify anything and she realises what he's missing. "Oh. A condom - it's muggle birth control. It's - never mind."
Malfoy blinks several times, his brow furrowing. "I understand the concept of not getting pregnant, so that's probably all I need here. Right?"
Still brilliantly flushed, Hermione manages, "Yes. Don't worry about how it works."
"It was a muggle?"
"...Yes." She's not sure why she thinks this is going to matter, and it doesn't seem to. He moves past it as a point of mild curiosity.
"So... he shouldn't have needed more than one unless he was preventing pregnancy more than once. Do I have it so far?"
She nods mutely, mortified.
"So... he either successfully needed more than one, or he was... botching it somehow. Since you said it went poorly, I'm guessing it was a botched job."
This makes her laugh, envisioning some kind of hit man scowling to his mafia boss, "It was a botched job!" The ridiculousness of the scene makes her giggle again and Malfoy looks a little relieved to have broken the ice.
He hands her some cheese on a cracker and says with delicacy, "Well, I've been excessively drunk before. You said he was too drunk. I think I'm putting together the rest."
She realises with fresh awkwardness that she didn't need to go into detail about the condoms at all. "Right, then. Well."
He arches an eyebrow at her. "Is that the only time you tried until now?"
"Well, no. But it was the only time I actually went home with someone. I chickened out a couple of times before that."
Malfoy shakes his head. "I'm not saying you couldn't have good sex from getting picked up in a pub. But most people don't start there. Do you even know what you like? What you'd have wanted him to do?"
Hermione thinks she needs a cooling charm. Everything about this is embarrassing to her. She can feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. "Well, no. I thought - I thought I'd probably figure it out." She could fry an egg on her face. "I know that sounds stupid, but -"
"It's not stupid," Malfoy says with more gentleness than she'd have ever expected. "Everyone figures it out somehow. You were just... stacking the odds against yourself, a bit."
He moves over to the couch and her heart begins to race. He sits next to her and stretches her legs out over his lap. Placing an arm over the back of the couch behind her, he leans in to kiss her. The hand behind her shoulders slowly tangles into her hair while the other one rests on her ankle. His thumb moves up and down her anklebone, almost absently.
"There's nothing wrong with the way you did it," he whispers. "You just picked the wrong person."
This has become abundantly clear to her and she tentatively places her hand behind his neck like she had the night before. Malfoy scoots her slightly closer to him and opens her mouth with his own. Her tongue flicks against his lip and he matches her as his hand skates up her lower leg.
She leans further into him, relishing the eager way he responds. He stops his hand at the knee of her skirt and hesitates for a fraction of a second, before removing his other hand from her hair. Before she can register a protest, he grips her by both hips and pulls her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.
"Is this okay?" he asks softly. They're almost eye level this way, and his ice blue eyes meet hers. She nods, a little breathless, and wonders if he can hear her heart pounding. She kisses him again instead and he makes that little groaning noise against her mouth. She can feel the hard throb inside his pants along her thigh and her heart skips a beat.
His hands are under her jumper now, across the small of her back. They're large and warm, his fingers spanning across her skin. His thumbs rest on her sides, near the lower hemline of her bra, and she forces her brain to stop jumping ahead of things. But she wants him to. She likes the feel of his hands on her skin, wants them all over her.
She puts her own hands on his shoulders, allowing herself to appreciate how broad they are, and sucks in a breath when Malfoy buries his face in her neck. He inhales deeply as if he's smelling her hair, and she feels goosebumps rise on her arms. His lips press into her neck, moving up towards her ear, and she sighs into him. His hands clutch her back, pressing into her body, and she feels his breathing catch.
He releases the pressure of his hands and she leans back slightly, as if he's pulling her with some invisible string. He moves her back just far enough to find her mouth again with his and Hermione wonders how she'd made it to this point in life without having been snogged like this. Her hands run down his arms, tracing over his biceps. One of her knees is taking more weight than the other and she shifts a little on his lap, unconsciously. Malfoy groans again and she realises she's pressing right on top of him.
Malfoy clutches her back to him, chest to chest, to kiss her neck again. He's moving down towards her shoulder now, nudging the neckline of her shirt to the side, and she wonders if he'll just take it off.
Does she need to initiate next steps? How does this work?
Her brain short-circuits on her as his hands slide up her sides once more beneath her top. His thumbs crest over her bra, over the full cups of her breasts and she holds her breath.
"Still okay?" he whispers into her ear and she practically squeaks out a 'yes.' She thinks she can feel his smile as he nips her earlobe, flicking his tongue against her neck as he works his way back to her mouth. He palms her breast, firm but gentle, rolling it in his hand. Hermione rests her forehead against his and opens her eyes to find his blue ones looking at her, a slight crinkle around the edges. He slips one finger beneath the lip of the cup and circles her nipple. Her mouth drops open, and he captures it again with his.
His second hand returns to her hip and he grips there, almost hard, and Hermione realises she'd been slowly moving against him with the same motion as his hand on her breast. "Be still," he says softly against her mouth. "For now."
She nods, but that'll be difficult. She hadn't even noticed she was doing it.
In a mortifying flash, she thinks that if she's wet... well, at least he's wearing black trousers. She tries to console herself. Gods, how embarrassing.
Then he gives another tremendous throb against her thigh, and she's properly consoled. He's aroused, too. Openly. And wasn't that the whole point, anyway?
With her promise to hold still, he moves his hand back up into her hair. He controls the kiss this way, the pressure light or firm, by the hand wrapped in her curls. The other goes back to stroking her breast, her nipple. He tugs the cup fully below it, now, and gently tugs her nipple between two fingers. Hermione gasps, feeling the surge of heat rush between her legs.
"More?" he asks and she nods again. He gives it a tiny squeeze, not quite a pinch, then rolls it between his fingers. She lets out a low moan and he hisses in a breath between his teeth. Hermione realises she's been pressing down onto him again and he freezes, his eyes shut tight. He shifts his weight slightly, repositioning a bit and breathing heavily.
"Sorry," she breathes, and he takes the hand away from her hair to slide it between her legs. Now it's her turn to freeze and he watches her closely. He returns to squeezing and rolling her nipple, palming her breast, and gently rests one finger outside her knickers, right between her legs. She lets herself press down again, settle her weight, and he starts a rhythmic, matching motion with both his hands.
As he circles her nipple, he lets his finger on her knickers make a slow circle, too. It's nowhere near as intense as when she's doing it herself, on bare skin, and yet the combination is the most singularly intense blend of sensations she's ever felt in her life.
Hermione's mouth falls open again as she breathes in and out. Her forehead comes to rest on his shoulder and her breath begins to hitch. Malfoy increases his pace just a bit, rolling her nipple between his fingers again, giving it slight tugs. She feels like the coil in her stomach is strung so tight, it'll rip, it'll tear. It's going to tear her open. Malfoy presses the tip of his finger just so and she feels herself climax, the feelings rippling through her. She can't help crying out and as it shakes its way through, she notices she has his shirt in her fists again.
He slips his hand back out from between them and rests it on her back again, instead. When she can finally lift her head, he's watching her. Of course he is, she thinks, immediately embarrassed again, but the look in his eyes makes her stop.
They're darker, now, no longer the colour of ice. He's also breathing hard, his gaze locked on her.
"Has anyone ever done that for you?"
She shakes her head mutely.
"Meet me here again tomorrow night and we'll do it again."
She was right; she can't focus at all in lessons.
No one notices, she doesn't think. She's just quieter than usual, that's all. Head down, doing her work, just not popping up to contribute during class. Not volunteering answers.
During Potions, Malfoy stretches his arms up and behind his head. She can hear a satisfying pop in his shoulders, and she remembers how they felt beneath her hands. Her cheeks are already turning a little pink when his eye catches hers in a flash. She thinks she catches the fastest wink and flames red, ducking her face and letting her hair cover her.
She can't figure him out.
Why was he putting in so much effort? Not that it seemed difficult for him, or taxing, or anything like that. But he could have shagged her three days ago and every day since.
He's not getting anything out of this at all.
Okay, so he seems to enjoy the snogging quite a lot. Who wouldn't, when it can be like that? But she's never had an orgasm that strong in her life and he got nothing outside the... gratification of giving it to her?
Weird. Hermione's never been led to believe boys think this way.
She starts to grow concerned that he's getting something else out of it. What if he's bragged about it, to his Slytherin mates? What if the goal for him isn't the shagging at all, but doing it specifically to Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger, who was shy and inexperienced and asked him to show her the ropes?
Gods, what people would say. That would be horrifying. She takes a furtive look around. Are any of them looking at her?
She doesn't think so. Pansy is turned into Theo, chatting quietly. Blaise is bent over his parchment. They're the only other Slytherins taking NEWT-level Potions.
They've never specifically talked about keeping this quiet, outside her quick comment that she didn't want to ask a friend because she didn't want to ruin friendships or for word to get around. Other than that, she's just assumed he understood...
Does he?
But she's probably overthinking it anyway. They have done several class projects together this term. Harry and Ron have given her odd looks already, but as she's already been defending Malfoy against Harry's theories, they've recently dropped it. Aside from that, he's known to be one of the other top students, so her desire to be paired with someone like him shouldn't be surprising.
If anyone asks about the time they're spending together, she'll lean back on that. In the meantime, Ron's perfectly busy with Lavender. Harry is preoccupied with all sorts of things Hermione wants to feel guilty about, but she just can't manage right this second.
Two lessons left today. Then dinner. Then the Come and Go Room.
She crosses her legs unconsciously, keeping her thighs tightly together. The heat is rushing back through her and it's not the blushing in her cheeks. Her heart speeds up a little, remembering his hands on her. His long fingers, his strong grip. The whispers in her ear, nudging her hair to the side to press kisses onto her skin.
It seems like she's mentally re-lived that orgasm at least twice an hour. It plays on a loop in her brain and her breath catches in her throat all over again. She finds her eyes closed, her jaw set, her fingers clenching her quill. Her heart races away and she feels like everyone in the room must know what she's thinking of.
She realises with a start they've been dismissed when Ernie's foot catches on the leg of her chair. The classroom is nearly empty. Malfoy is holding the door, a wry look on his face that clearly wants to prod what she was just woolgathering about. She scrunches her face and he snorts, resting a hand on the small of her back for the briefest second as he follows her out the door.
There's no prelude to things tonight. As soon as she sets foot in the room, his mouth is on hers.
It's an urgency she hadn't expected, a contrast to how he's been the last two nights. But he keeps his hands above her clothes. Well, one hand is. The other is tangled in her hair again, tipping her head back to kiss her.
Hermione's already out of breath by this greeting and tries to keep up. She lets her own hands rest on his chest, her fingers running over the muscles there. She can tell when they tense beneath her and she feels that now-familiar throb against her hip. She glances down briefly and wonders what it looks like.
She hadn't got a very good look at Lucas's, drunk and on a couch in a dimly lit living room. He'd had it out, fumbling with the condoms, but she hadn't exactly tried to help. She knows the basics of human anatomy, but she's never seen another one close-up, in person. But Malfoy is tall, much taller than she is. Taller than most of the male Hogwarts contingent and she wonders if that really does affect anything.
He bites her lower lip and she gasps. Speaking of their height difference, Malfoy seems frustrated by it. He grips her by both hips and pulls her up and onto his own, putting their faces more level. She slides her hands behind his neck, letting her fingernails play with his hair, and he makes that little groan she's come to recognise.
Gathering a bit of her own courage, Hermione moves her face into his neck and presses a kiss there. Lighter, than more firm as his fingers grip her more tightly. He likes it, she thinks. She's figuring out what he likes and a little proud of herself for it. She adjusts her angle to his ear instead and captures his earlobe between her lips. Malfoy grips her harder and she gives a little pull on it, just enough to provide a slight pressure.
Suddenly, she's falling into him as he sits down hard on the couch. Her knees hit the cushions like they did last night, and his hands release her hips to move up her back again.
Hermione wants him to take her shirt off but she's too shy to ask. She's definitely not bold enough to pull it over her head herself, so instead, she starts slowly undoing the buttons on the front of his.
Malfoy freezes momentarily and looks at her with caution. He slides his hands up her sides, his fingers tantalizing along her ribs, until the hemline of her jumper is resting on his wrists. She nods breathlessly and he pulls it up and over, slinging it to the side.
He doesn't even take time to look at what he's uncovered, she marvels.
He just clutches her back to his chest, letting his face press into her neck. He kisses one spot for so long, she's sure it'll leave a mark. She hesitates for a second and then thinks it's closer to her shoulder. She'll be able to cover it with her jumper easily enough.
While she turns this over, Malfoy's hands are resting right below her bra, thumbs in the front and fingers around her back. She wonders at the size of his hands, too, how he can nearly span her body, and that makes her think of his body. She lets her own hands do some exploring.
Her fingernails skate over his nipple and he nips her neck lightly in surprise. Well, maybe it didn't surprise him, but it surprised her. She finds that she liked it, the sharp tingle it sent down her neck and into her chest. It settles in her lower abdomen, stoking the embers there into flames.
As if he can tell, Malfoy's thumbs start to roll gently beneath her breasts. She sighs into his mouth and he shifts her on his lap.
"Like last night?" he murmurs softly. "Or something more?"
Gods, as if she'd say no. She's not going to complain about a single thing he does. In fact, Hermione would much rather he just led the way. If she's learned anything since Friday night, it's that she doesn't know how to describe what she likes, exactly – but so far, she hasn't found anything that she doesn't.
"More," she whispers back and she feels his jaw tighten against her neck. She's not sure how to read that and can't stop herself asking, "Why are you doing all this?"
Malfoy pulls back and looks at her, baffled.
"I just mean," she struggles, "why put so much time and effort into it all?"
His eyebrows shoot up. "Are you saying you'd rather we jumped right to it?"
"No!" Hermione nearly yelps, then flushes fresh all over again. "I just…"
His thumbs have stopped their rolling motion and she hates it.
"Granger, this is supposed to be… at least half the fun. You're the one who was trying to skip all the foreplay."
"I just don't know what you're getting out of it," she finally manages to get out.
"Didn't you just hear me? This can be the best part. But if you'd rather, I could just shag you and let you go get on with your life."
Hermione can't see the smirk, but she can hear it. And she must admit, no. This is more than 'checking a box' now. She's enjoying it and she doesn't want it to stop.
So she shuts up. She still doesn't understand how this could possibly be the best part for him, but then again, he knows a lot more about this than she does. And given his enthusiastic greeting to her tonight, maybe he is getting something out of it after all.
She shakes her head 'no' and leans back into his neck, letting her tongue flick against his ear again.
Malfoy lifts her from his lap anyway and she makes a noise of protest. She tries not to notice how easily he does this, how little effort it takes as he repositions himself against the arm of the couch and tucks her in between his legs, her mostly-bare back to his bare chest.
"I'll show you," he whispers in her ear, "and then no more wondering about it out loud. Unless you do want me to stop, that is."
She shivers, tangibly, and feels his cheek scrunch as he smiles. But she can't really kiss him this way and she wonders – not supposed to wonder, she reminds herself ironically – if that was the point. Maybe she's supposed to focus on other things.
One of his hands curls back around her left breast and he resumes his gentle rolling, palming of it. Hermione lets her head hang back into his collarbone, nuzzling her nose up under his chin. She feels another hard jerk from his pants, but it's on the low of her back this time. She realises he repositioned himself, too.
He slips the cup of her bra down again, tucking it beneath her breast as he did the previous night, and she feels his head tip downwards to look. She keeps her own where it is, not wanting to look at him looking at her so openly.
He throbs again at her back, strong and hard, and the rush of heat goes straight between her legs. Hermione thinks she likes knowing that he's turned on, that it's because he's here with her – even if she isn't really doing anything. But she likes the sensation of his arousal at her back.
Malfoy's fingers play with her nipple and his breathing is a little heavy, too. His left hand begins to slowly move up her leg, above the knee, and slips under the hem of her skirt.
"Is this okay?" he asks softly, his breath tickling her ear. Her own staggers a little and she tries to recover, nodding into his neck.
Her abdomen is tight with anticipation, the muscles taut. She tried to steady her inhales and exhales, but she's remembering last night vividly as his fingers slowly move higher up her leg.
They stop at the border of her knickers. "Do you want me to?"
"Yes," she manages. "Please."
His hardness jerks again and she can tell he sucks in a breath. Noticing for the first time that she can feel his heartbeat, too, Hermione lets herself lean back more solidly. His feels just as fast as hers, but that can't be right. Surely not.
He still doesn't go right underneath her knickers. He traces up and down her, slowly, lightly. Enough to make her want to scream, if she's being honest, and now she sort of does want him to skip to it.
She lets her right hand reach up behind herself and stretch around the back of his neck. Her knees rise of their own accord, nestled between his thighs, and he kisses the side of her cheek. Hermione turns her face and can just reach his, meeting his mouth with her own. His left hand doesn't stop its steady tracing, but his right hand goes back to work on her nipple.
How can he do this many things at once? She can barely think straight. He gives her nipple a slight squeeze between two fingers and she gasps into his lips. He catches her lip with his teeth and she sees his eyes flutter shut.
Hermione's fingernails stroke his hair at the same pace he's using beneath her skirt, but she doesn't even notice the symmetry. He stops kissing her, though, his mouth simply open, eyes closed, and he slips a finger beneath her knickers.
She stops breathing, too. He'd brought her to orgasm with less than this last night and she can hardly wait. Forgoing the snogging for the time being, she nuzzles back under his chin and finds her fingers gripping the back of his neck. She finally needs to suck in a breath and her breast arches up into his hand.
The first finger of his left hand is moving steadily into her folds, parting her, and she sighs a little moan. He moves her knickers to the side, pushing another finger beneath to keep them out of the way, and strokes her again. Long, smooth strokes, and Hermione can feel how wet she must be.
She doesn't know what it feels like to him. Malfoy's breath is hot on her ear, fluffing her hair, and she thinks he might be almost panting.
"Please?" she asks without knowing she's about to, and he groans. She feels another sharp throb at her back and leans back into him. His right hand grips around her breast hard, once, and then releases it.
"Sorry," he breathes, but she shakes her head. Keep going.
With her own hand, she wriggles her knickers down past her knees. They're in the way and she can't wait any longer. He reacts immediately, just as she'd hoped. With two fingers, he parts her folds, and lets the third continue stroking her up and down. He's slicking her wetness around, she realises, and feels that flame of heat deep in her stomach again.
He begins to focus on the centre of nerves there, coated in her own slick, and Hermione sees stars.
His gentle rotation of swirling movement with alternating pressure has her reaching the edge fast. She feels the tension in her core, her tightening muscles. He presses right on her with a flutter of his finger, a quick sort of flickering, and she cries out.
She nearly doubles over, bending at the waist, as her orgasm begins. Malfoy goes with her, leaning forward to keep his hands in place.
Hermione's hand behind his neck is gripping his hair and her left hand flies out to clutch his left forearm. He gives the slightest twitch but she doesn't notice. She does notice, distantly, the throbbing at her back, the jerking against her, his face in her hair. His fingers on her nipple, her clenched thighs trapping his other hand between them.
He lets wave after wave rack through her before leaning back again, gently pulling her with him. Being entirely boneless just now, Hermione finds herself easily repositioned against his chest, her head resting on his collarbone again.
Malfoy lets her lie there limp. He straightens her skirt and then just lightly traces up and down her arms with his fingers. It feels nice and Hermione thinks she could doze off right here - but that would be a bad idea.
"What are you doing?" She finally notices his hands are on her stomach now, skirting under her breasts. At her words, he wraps his lithe fingers around the bottom of one, giving it a rolling squeeze.
"We aren't done for the night. Unless you want to be, of course."
She's taken aback and twists her head around to look at him. "What do you mean?"
Malfoy gives her a wry smile. "Exactly what I said. I told you I was going to show you how much fun this could be. Do you believe me already?"
Without a doubt, yes. Yes, she does. She has no illusions that if she and Lucas had managed to shag, it would have been nothing like this. Gods, what a disappointment. She might never have known any different, either. And now she's getting curious. What else does he have in mind?
He sees this on her face. "I think I can get you off again."
"You 'think'?"
"I think," he says confidently and she nearly laughs. "I don't know your body that well yet, but I'm... figuring it out." He gives her a smirk and she tries to hide the rush of arousal she got as the word 'yet.' She thinks he might be right.
"I think you're doing just fine so far."
"Well, the next part is a little trickier," he confesses. "Different things work for - for different people."
He looks a little shifty at this, and Hermione realises he feels uncomfortable mentioning prior experiences. She doesn't know why. It's clear he's had many of them. It's clear she hasn't, and she thinks she might finally have moved past the embarrassment of that.
No one's ever seen her breasts before. Even with Lucas, she was still in a bra. She's in one now, but the cups are pulled down and she hasn't fixed them. Alright, her skirt is covering her below the waist but her knickers are... somewhere. She can't even spot them. The last she recalled they were past her knees, but now they're nowhere in sight.
Well, if she were fully naked, she'd probably still be shy. But she thinks she might be even if she wasn't so inexperienced. And it's not like she's just sitting around partially dressed. Her exposed nipples are hardly gratuitous when Malfoy's actively playing with them.
Okay, then. Might as well let him work, she decides, and dips her head back again to rest against him. Her nipples are hard under his touch, and he skims a finger lightly over the pebbled areola. She shivers a little, imaging that same light touch between her legs, and that provokes a slightly uncomfortable feeling she has difficulty identifying. His other hand slips back below her skirt and he avoids the bundle of nerves at her centre, stroke along the folds again, instead.
Now she knows what it is. She's swollen still, a bit. Her orgasm was so strong that her clit is tender. His thumb barely ghosts over it and she sucks in air between her teeth.
"I know," he murmurs into her hair, "and I won't. But tell me if the next bit is too much, okay?"
She doesn't know what that will be yet, but she's starting to make an educated guess. He still takes his time, probably to let her momentary soreness fade, let the blood disperse. He just moves lightly up and down her slit, doing nothing in particular, just letting her feel the sensations of his hand. She relaxes into it, slowing her breathing down.
He rededicates to her breast, instead, playing with the nipple almost absently. He tugs it a bit, rolls it. Squeezes it in the palm of his hand. Hermione finds herself moving beneath him, anticipating him.
She feels a low throb at her back again and realises it's the first time she's felt it in a while.
Her knees rise up again, her ankles pressing against his thighs on the outsides of her legs. She shifts her hips at the same time the tip of his finger slips inside her and she gasps.
"Alright?" he asks, sounding a little winded. He hadn't expected it either, she guessed. She nods and lets her head fall backwards, her fingers winding up into his hair. This angle pushes her breasts upwards again, something she noticed earlier and liked. The arch of her back feels good.
Malfoy presses his mouth against her neck and his hot exhales distract her for a moment. His eyelashes close, tickling her slightly, and she scrapes her fingernails along his skin.
He hasn't moved that single finger again until now, when he slowly slides it in further, up to his second knuckle. Gods, she's tried this before on her own, but it's nothing like this. And he's not even doing anything yet. She wants him to and before she knows it, she whispers again, "Please?"
His breaths on her neck are uneven and he smoothly pushes his finger all the way in as she arches. "You do ask nicely."
That sends a chill down her that he doesn't miss. His eyes open and he turns his head slightly to see the side of her face. "You're doing so good."
That could sound patronising in a different context, but Hermione feels a flood of arousal. She takes it as affirmation, validation. She had no idea she'd react this way to comments like that and her eyes flutter closed.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs and she feels herself clench on his finger slightly. "Fuck, Granger," he groans and he tries to steady himself. "We found something you like."
They've found many, many things she likes. He has, anyway. And he might like it, too, because the throbbing behind her is growing stronger again. Malfoy uses his free hand to pull her more tightly into his chest, tucking her firmly between his legs and she can feel his hard length now, snaking right up her back.
With better access, he leans forward, sitting them up a little straighter. He slips a second finger to match the first and she gasps. "Too much?" he asks into her ear, and she shakes her head.
Still avoiding her swollen centre, he starts to move his fingers in and out slowly. Hermione finds that she's moving a little with him, rocking a bit to meet his motion. He has her pressed solidly against his hardness, feeling every twitch. On his next finger thrust, he curls the tip of one finger against her inner wall and she nearly yelps.
He's in the middle of asking again, "Okay?" when she exhales, "Please. Please, Malfoy." She hadn't even heard him start to talk and it turns into a groan.
He does it again, earlier this time for a longer curl. More contact, almost a scrape, and she shudders into his hand. She can't help the rocking motion, now, wanting more friction. He knows and adjusts, letting her control the depth while he controls the curl.
"Oh, shit," she wheezes and feels his smile into her shoulder. Finally – has she been waiting for it? – he lightly adds his thumb into the mix, right onto her clit. She gives a low cry and he speeds up. He darts deeper, curls longer, and she starts to contract.
He sucks in a breath, hissing between his teeth, as she clenches down. His teeth find her shoulder, nipping down once, quickly, before he releases them. "Sorry -" he chokes out, but she doesn't notice.
She's doubled over again, bearing down on his hand. She feels herself spasm around him, trapping his fingers. Her vision is nearly white, her eyes squeezed shut. She rocks forward and it's as if every muscle in her body seizes.
It feels like he's seizing, too, trapped against her. In the back of her awareness, she realises he's pressing himself against her back, letting her spasms flow through more than just his hand.
Finally, she slumps limply against him once more. He brushes her sweaty hair to the side and pulls her back onto his chest.
"That is enough for tonight," he declares, sounding a little sleepy himself. His heart is fast against her and she feels a couple of residual twitches low on her back. "But after that, it'll be hard not to shag you tomorrow."
"Why not do it, then?" It's out before she had a chance to think about it. She doesn't want him to think she hasn't been finding this… fun. But she feels him smile into her hair.
"You don't want to skip the next part, Granger. I promise."