Tuesday.
Back to not focussing during lessons.
Malfoy seems to be catching her eye more, but she might be imagining it. She's definitely looking his way more often, so maybe it's just her.
She's convinced herself he is getting something out of it. Having not seen it in action, she isn't totally sure, but she can make some educated guesses. He's still getting off, just without her direct help. Or maybe she is helping; who knows?
Hermione still wonders why this is better for him than just outright shagging Pansy Parkinson, or whoever else he's hooked up with. Surely it's been more girls than just Pansy.
Lucky Pansy, she catches herself thinking and gives herself a quick mental shake.
She was fully prepared to have anonymous sex with a stranger and never look back. This shouldn't be any different. Would it have been, if it had been this fantastic?
She'd have had nothing to compare it to and it probably wouldn't have been. No, she thinks she could have walked away from the various muggles in pubs quite easily. This, though; this could be harder.
Now that she knows what it can be like, does Hermione really believe anybody can do it? Does she really think these skills are universal?
She takes a sneaky glance around her classmates. Neville and Susan. Ron and Lavender. Padma and Anthony. Harry and Ginny, if either of them finally admits it.
No, if she's honest with herself, she can't imagine any of them doing what Malfoy has been able to do.
But is she biassed, now? That wouldn't be fair. It's not like she's ever tried anybody else, outside her only drunken encounter. Maybe it's not that difficult. After all, Malfoy's doing it quite easily. Even the part he said could be tricky didn't seem to be. Not for him.
Maybe Hermione's just easy to please. She mulls this over and can't figure out how she feels about it.
With a start, she realises she hasn't thought about the war in days. The war. The war she and Malfoy will be on opposite sides of, and she feels that unexpected slash of heat that he's the sort of person she shouldn't want. The wrong person, her brain whispers. Not being a very good girl now.
Good gods, she thinks she can feel her pulse between her legs. She crosses her knees again, tightening her thighs.
She huffs an exhale and Ron looks at her strangely as she shifts in her seat. Malfoy glances up and there's no mistaking the smirk on his face, as if he's reading her mind. Her face flames red again and she brushes her hair over her left cheek, bending back over her parchment.
His looks are also furtive, though. It feels different than it did a week ago.
Maybe it's like it is for her: she no longer has to look because she has vivid memories of exactly how he looks, how he feels. She doesn't need to watch his fingers move to imagine what he can do with them. He doesn't have to stare at her chest to know what her nipples look like.
Hermione is practically shovelling in food at dinner. She never does this. She's usually somewhat disinterested in dinner. Dinner is often something of a nuisance, an interruption to her revising or general studies. Now it's an interruption to her new predominant activities – at the very least, it's a delay.
She's pretty sure what tonight has in store and she wants to rush back to Gryffindor Tower to shower first. She hasn't fussed with that until now, but she doesn't want to feel shy, if he's going to do what she thinks he's going to do.
If someone had asked her a week ago if she wanted someone to go down on her, Hermione thinks she probably would have recoiled. She'd have been self-conscious; she couldn't imagine someone doing that and being comfortable with it. Certainly not comfortable enough to enjoy herself. More power to anybody who could, but she wouldn't have guessed she'd count herself among them.
But if Malfoy has shown her anything, it's that she shouldn't assume what she's going to like or dislike.
He stands up to leave the Slytherin table and she knows it's time to go. She washes down her bite with a large gulp of pumpkin juice.
Ginny plops down next to her and Hermione nearly swallows the wrong way.
"Hey, Gin -"
"Awfully fit, isn't he?" Ginny nods towards the entrance and Hermione coughs.
"Who?"
Ginny gives her a knowing look and Hermione deflects.
"Is Harry going to ask you to Hogsmeade next month?"
Ginny blushes and looks down at her lap. Success.
"Don't change the subject."
Fail.
"You keep watching Malfoy."
Hermione sighs. Might as well admit to some of it. Ginny should understand. She has more dating experience than anyone else Hermione knows. "Yes, he's quite fit. Have you seen his Quidditch uniform?"
Ginny snorts behind a hand and Hermione continues, "Don't tell Harry though." She gives Ginny a conspiratorial wink. "Got to go, though, sorry. I think Harry will ask you to Hogsmeade. He fancies you. He's just… being thick about it."
Ginny turns a little pink, again, and Hermione thinks this is a fine parting moment to the conversation. Not long ago – a week, for instance – she'd have been very happy to have Ginny stretch out more of a personal friendship between them. Now, though… delays.
She moves away from the table with the opening she crafted, trying not to speed off like she has anywhere else special to be.
Like last night, he practically pounces on her. He yanks her shirt over her head, her arms rising automatically before returning to work on the buttons of his own.
Hermione's wearing one of her less-practical bras. She does have a handful, not that she thinks of them as 'sexy' undergarments, but they have somewhat less support with less coverage. They don't get worn as often, which gives the lot of them the benefit of seeming new.
Malfoy's hands skim over the fabric before coming to rest on the clasp at her back. "Can I?" he asks softly, nose in her hair, and she nods.
He has it undone with a swift motion, tossing it aside, and she's truly topless in front of him for the first time. She thought she'd be bashful about this but the look on his face is worth it. He's raking his eyes over her as if he's never seen her before. His eyes are so dark, she wonders if they're even still blue.
He steps back into her and she expects another sort of pouncing, but he doesn't. He reaches a hand out and pulls her hair in front of one shoulder, letting it hang while he twists his fingers in it. Now he kisses her, pulling her towards him and wrapping his second hand behind her head. His thumb scrapes down her cheek and her mouth opens for him.
He's moving them, now, angling her towards the bed. She backs up willingly, waiting for the rear of her knees to hit the mattress. When they do, she collapses backwards, one hand fisting his unbuttoned shirt to pull him down with her.
Malfoy lets out a short laugh under his breath but squirrels his way down the bed instead. Hermione's eyes widen. Going right for it, is he? Alright, then. She inhales deeply, readying herself, but his fingers wrap around her ankle.
He plants a light kiss on one, letting his fingers trace down to her foot. She'd been right; he did like these. Whether it's her ankles or her feet, she still doesn't quite know, but then he glances up. Her skirt is draped over her knees but that's as far as it goes. He can see everything.
"Fuck, Granger," he breathes, and she feels his forehead drop onto her calf. "What are you doing?"
Hermione's about to scramble out something. Something like, 'I don't know, I had a shower,' or 'Knickers felt superfluous by now,' or 'I wanted to be – sexy,' maybe. The rush of self-consciousness starts to flood her, but he interrupts this runaway train of thought.
"You're a good girl, aren't you?"
The flood becomes something different at once. She sucks in a breath and tips her head back into the pillow. Malfoy crawls up her body, now, still keeping his hands outside her skirt.
He stops at her breasts, her nipples perked and hard. He ghosts a finger over one and says, "So good. You knew I'd like that, didn't you?"
Hermione thinks she might be on fire. Tingles are running head to foot up and down her body. No, she hadn't known exactly, but she could hazard a good guess, and walking up here in a skirt without knickers had made her feel sexy, and –
Without warning, his mouth closes around one nipple and she lets out a squeak. Her teeth trap her own lower lip and he worries her nipple with his tongue. His hand comes up to her other breast, palming and squeezing gently in time with his mouth. He rolls her nipple lightly between his teeth as he tugs on the other one and her jaw goes slack.
"See, Granger," he says at last, and she feels the cold air over the wetness his mouth left behind. "Now we know you like it when I tell you what a good girl you are."
She whimpers slightly, shifting her hips on the bed.
"But I've found that I also like it." She glances down and his eyes are locked on hers. "But here's the thing. Just because I like it doesn't mean you have to. If I do something you don't want, you still have to say so. Understood?"
Her brain isn't keeping up well. She has trouble processing this sort of complex statement for a moment. She can't stay quiet for something she doesn't like just because he does like it. Got it. She nods.
"Good girl," he breathes and her back arches, pressing her breast back into his mouth. He keeps talking anyway. "I'm still going to ask occasionally and it's still your job to tell the truth. Understood?"
She nods again at the repeat question, winded already, and he smiles around her nipple. "Very good."
Her eyes roll back and he goes back to teasing her, taking his time. She's practically writhing on the bed. One hand snakes under her skirt, now, and he pushes it up to her waist. She's topless and otherwise naked, and in a thousand years could never have imagined she'd care this little.
She knows she's wet. It's no secret, not anymore. She feels the air change as his fingers brush by her, never quite making contact.
"Please," she exhales quietly, her eyes still closed. "Please?"
His weight shifts and he moves further down the bed. Hermione is torn between missing his ministrations around her nipples, hard and aching, and wanting him between her legs. But he can do both; she knows he can. He only needs his hands, his delectable long fingers, and he can do both.
His palms flatten against her inner thighs, parting her legs abruptly. Hermione gasps and looks down to find him already watching her face. "This?" he prompts.
Sure. Her mind had reverted to what she knew, to the incredible sensations she remembers from the last couple of nights, but she knows this will be good. Her clit is practically throbbing in anticipation, desperate for his touch. "Yes."
But his next movement is a slow dipping of his head, a purposeful exhale across her flesh. She feels herself tremble under his hands. Next she hears his deep inhale, as if he's drinking her in, and she tries to close her thighs reflexively.
His hands won't let her. He darts his tongue to give her one long, solid lick straight up her centre. Hermione coughs out a gasp in reverse, a sudden rushing of breath that leaves her a little lightheaded. Malfoy attaches his mouth to her, sucking at her clit and she snakes a hand into his hair.
"Alright?" he asks at last, coming up for air. She can't even be embarrassed about it, about the shine around his mouth, about her fingers forming a fist in his hair. She tries to think if she was pulling it. She hopes not.
"Yes."
The sensations are so new, it's still distracting. But she's moving past it quickly. He nips her clit lightly between his teeth, letting his tongue flick against it, and her mouth drops open. He alternates this with pressure from his tongue, darting and dancing, and she makes herself remove her fingers from his hair and fist the bed covers instead.
She feels him chuckle, the air of his breath on her wet skin. She tries to regain her own, steady herself, and without warning his tongue darts right inside of her.
She lets out a small cry, her back arching again. His hands stabilise her, holding her open, and he presses his face into her. His tongue goes deeper and she can feel the building pressure around her clit. He's not at the perfect spot, but he's so close, he –
He shifts a little to the side and she clenches her fists. His tongue shoots in and out, drinking her in, his nose unmoving. Hermione's knees tighten and her legs try to pull in again, but he holds her in place.
Two more deliciously extended seconds and she starts to come. Her stomach tightens and the inability to fold her legs into herself draws things out. She throws her head back on the pillow instead, letting it wash over her, letting his tongue soak her up. Instead of compressing her body, she lets herself stretch. Her hands tangle in her own hair, which seems better than his, her chest wildly heaving breath.
Malfoy crawls back up the mattress, planting a light, wet kiss on top of one nipple. She shivers, her eyes closed. He slips an arm beneath her neck and curls her into him, pushing her hair back behind her shoulder.
"Gods, where did you learn that?" she whispers with her eyes shut, but she feels him go still.
She opens her eyes to see him looking down at her face. "Do you really want to know things like that?"
No, she doesn't. And it doesn't matter. He has loads of experience and she has none. She shakes her head and manages a small smile. "Everyone figures things out somehow, right?"
He's not done with her tonight, though, either. Malfoy gives her roughly seven whole minutes of recovery before working his way back down her body. He dedicates a good while to her breasts on his way, wrapping his entire mouth as far around one as he can get. He lets his tongue swirl around her nipple in the centre and she can't help imagining what he was just doing between her legs the same way.
She can't stop a low moan from between her lips, her knees rising on the bed. Her heels are practically touching her arse, and Malfoy whispers to her, "You like it, don't you?"
"Yes," she whispers back, her eyes heavy-lidded and wanting, matching his.
With no notice, he slips a finger deep inside her and her mouth falls open. She hadn't known his hand was close, that his fingers were right at her entrance. She can't even make a noise and he smirks, giving her nipple a single, final tug before he keeps moving south.
Her clit is a little tender, but not like last night after her first orgasm. The pressure of his mouth is less than that of his fingertips, and while he's still more gentle than he was a few minutes ago, she's quickly writhing for more.
He adds a second finger inside her and begins the curling motion she adored from the previous night. He sucks her clit at the same time, his tongue swirling against it just like it had on her nipple, and she almost shrieks, "Gods, yes, please. Please."
"Good girl," he says while pressed against her core. "So good, aren't you? Such a good -"
Hermione begins to come without warning, feeling herself wrap around his fingers. He groans against her, and the vibrations combined with the sudden rush of cooler air shatter her from the inside out. "Fuck! Malfoy, I can't -"
"Yes, you can," he promises, his teeth nipping at her. "You can do it, sweet girl. Come on."
She does. She can't help bending at the waist this time, though, curling up towards him and bearing down on his hand at the same time. He scrapes against her inner wall and groans again at the strength of her orgasm around him.
It rocks through her again, and again. When she can finally open her eyes once more, she sees that he has his cock out and in his spare hand. He's stroking himself back and forth rapidly, seeming to squeeze a little at the top, and with two more quick motions he spills onto his own fist.
Glancing up, he notices her gaze. He looks guilty, for some reason she can't comprehend, and actually says, "I'm sorry."
"What for?" Hermione tugs on his hair, enjoying the lifting of one corner of his mouth as she does it, and he climbs back up beside her. "You should get something out of this, too."
"I'm getting plenty out of it, believe me. But I wasn't trying to – I didn't want to, I don't know, intimidate you with that part of things. Not yet."
He's already tucked himself back into his boxer briefs, which Hermione can't help noticing cling quite closely to him.
"It doesn't," she says, mostly honest. She is a little intimidated by the addition of that, this thing she's never even had a solid look at before. It's the only new part to the equation, really. But as of tonight, his mouth on her was new. So she also knows that her nervousness about what will come next is mostly anticipation. Yes, it'll be different, but all the different things he's shown her so far have been bloody brilliant.
"I just -" he sighs and drops his chin onto the top of her head. "The way you feel around me. On my fingers."
She flushes pink again now, as if she doesn't know exactly what he means. She may not know how it feels, but she knows what he means.
"You feel fucking incredible. It's perfect."
Now, she does blush solidly, feeling the heat on her cheeks. He tips her face up with one finger and studies her, scrutinising. Her embarrassment must be plain because his eyebrows furrow. He doubles down anyway, angling it like praise as if she has anything to do with it.
"You feel perfect, to me. And if you still want me to shag you, you won't believe how it's going to feel to you tomorrow night."
Hermione still feels the heat but it's evolving into anticipation again. She feels his breath on her ear and he slides one finger deep inside her. She tightens on reflex, the coil in her stomach growing again, and he grunts.
"Gods, just like that."
But before her mind can start running towards more of his hand, his tongue, he pulls it back out.
"No more tonight, though. You don't want to risk being sore tomorrow. Unless, that is, you're alright with waiting a few days."
He bursts out laughing at the worried look on her face. No, she does not want to wait a few days. She wants to do this every day. Every night she wants to be here.
She did fall asleep this time, somehow. Incredibly. The spool of fire in her lower stomach dissipated into a general physical exhaustion, Malfoy's fingers idly in her hair as they laid there. She's not sure how long she dozed but he gently shakes her awake.
"Granger. You should go back."
She gradually becomes more aware of the fact that they're still in the bed. She opens her eyes and squints at him, a little blearily.
Malfoy arches an eyebrow. "If I don't go back to the dorm, no one will bat an eye. But if you don't, I'm guessing you'll have questions to answer."
This is largely true. Hermione has occasionally fallen asleep over library tables, revising late into the night, but she shouldn't roll the dice. That's always happened near exam time: OWLs last year, for example. They're nowhere near exams now but the double-standard of it bugs her more than anything else.
Even so. He isn't wrong. Hermione rolls off the side of the bed, still wearing her skirt. Her bra is… over there. Her jumper is by the door. Her hand absently organizes her hair, both smoothing it and ruffling it at once and his eyes follow every movement. She glances around again, puzzled, before remembering she came here without knickers.
Right.
The look on Malfoy's face is amused and he's not trying to hide it. Hermione studies him, lounging on the bed, propped up on an elbow. His shirt unbuttoned and draping open, showing off his chest.
She wants to get him naked tomorrow night.
Wednesday.
Ginny traps her after breakfast. Hermione's in the common room, nearing the stairs to her dorm to fetch her satchel of books for classes today. Ginny catches her off-guard with idle conversation until they reach the fifth-year girls' dorm, and then shoos her inside without any preamble at all.
Hermione looks around, but it's empty. Just the two of them. She looks at Ginny in astonishment as Ginny crosses her arms across her chest.
"Sit."
She's too surprised to argue. She doesn't even know whose bed her rear comes to rest on.
"You're seeing someone, aren't you? You don't have to tell me who. But Luna overheard Padma and Parvati talking, and Parvati said you've been out every night for almost a week. You haven't been in the library. I've started working on OWL revision this week and I haven't seen you there once."
Well, it's not like denying it will get her very far. Still.
"I'm not 'seeing someone,' Gin," Hermione protests, casting a quick muffliato on the room even though they're alone. "And that's an exaggeration, anyway. I've been out – the past three nights," she calculates quickly. The first two, last Friday and Saturday, were in the library. At least they hadn't been spotted.
"Those two statements don't add up," Ginny says firmly. "You've been out three nights in a row without seeing someone?"
"No, I mean, I am," Hermione struggles. "But it's not that we're… dating. It's just -"
Ginny's eyes are wide and blue, eyebrows high. A look of excited enthusiasm is growing, her smile getting wider. "What is it, then?"
Hermione gives up. Partially. "I wanted to… lose my virginity over the holiday break. I didn't and I found someone to help with it here. That's it."
As if that could possibly be enough to placate Ginny. She knows it isn't, but she just wants to escape this without mentioning Malfoy's name.
Ginny blinks, absorbing this. "So… alright." She sighs, clearly wanting to get deeper into this but only gives Hermione a mischievous grin. "Have you, then?"
"Not yet, no."
"But you're not dating him."
"No!"
Ginny sits down on the bed next to Hermione, catching her completely off-guard. "Hermione, I know you know this in the abstract. But since you're in the middle of it… we're biologically wired to get attached after sex. Are you sure you can… do this without dating him?"
This prompts an uncomfortable truth Hermione's been trying to shove down. Several days ago when she was asking why he was putting so much effort in, Malfoy had said something teasing about just shagging her instead and letting her carry on back to normal. But that's not what she wants to happen.
She doesn't want to date him. She doesn't want anyone to know. But neither does she want this to end tonight after she gets her shag.
Ginny doesn't press the question. She moves along. "So you're not dating him and you haven't shagged him… yet. If neither of those things are true, you must be doing something else. Even studying together would practically count as 'dating,' stuck at school like we are."
Hermione doesn't answer. She just returns Ginny's grin, her own a little mischievous, too.
"How many times has he gotten you off?"
"…Five." She has to count. "In three days."
Ginny chokes. "Good gods. Who is he?" At the look on Hermione's face, she backtracks, waving a hand. "Never mind. I said you didn't have to tell me. Well, I know it's not Dean or Michael Corner."
Hermione bursts out laughing. Ginny joins her.
"Just be careful, alright?" Ginny says at last, finally calming down. "It didn't have anything to do with my dinkus brother and Lavender, did it?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No, not really. But I also didn't want to risk ruining a friendship with Ron over the whole thing. I just felt like I should do it before the war starts, that's all."
"Do you think it's that close?" Ginny's plainly shocked and Hermione remembers she's completely unaware of Harry's extra lessons with Dumbledore.
"Maybe, maybe not," she hedges. "Either way, maybe it did have a little to do with Ron and Lavender. It wasn't so much about Ron, but I was just… tired of feeling like the only person who didn't know what all the fuss was about."
This is also true and seems to do the trick.
"And now?" The impish smile is back on Ginny.
"The fuss is quite fair," Hermione admits, making Ginny giggle again.
"I'll say. Five times in three days. That makes me think he's a seventh year," Ginny declares. "Well, more power to you. When you're done, send him my way."
Ginny winks and Hermione knows full well Ginny is kidding; she fancies Harry, it's as clear as the nose on her face. But the offhand statement still sends a stab of something unpleasant through Hermione.
She doesn't want to share. And she doesn't want to be 'done' tonight.
Hermione daydreams through Herbology.
Malfoy is at a table a row in front of her and to the side. His broad shoulders are bent as he leans over the plants, a pile of sneezewort. Ironically, it's something they'd used for their joint Herbology/Potions project last month. They're both intimately familiar with it and its properties.
It's not the only thing she's intimately familiar with. His slender fingers stretch along it as he efficiently separates the blossoms from the grass stems.
She remembers him getting himself off the previous night and it's occurring to her again that she hasn't had enough to do with that. Regardless of whatever he's said, she wants to be a more active participant.
Neville has to ask her twice to hand him another empty basket to collect what he's sorted. She looks down and realises she's barely covered the bottom of her own basket. Her first one. She's just been standing here ogling the tall blonde Seeker at the table in front of her.
Ginny slides onto the bench next to her at lunch and Hermione realises she's been, once again, staring off into space. The Slytherin table directly across the hall has nothing to do with it.
"So when are you seeing him again?"
Hermione jumps and whips a glance around. Ginny looks mildly offended. "I cast a silencing charm. It's alright."
She hadn't even noticed and tries to calm her heartrate. "I – tonight. It's tonight."
Ginny's eyebrows go up and as Hermione's breathing steadies back out, she acknowledges she doesn't mind the opportunity for girl talk. She's always had to keep so many things to herself, having no real girl friends. The boys don't care and are mostly oblivious to everything themselves. She's never had anybody to chat to about this sort of thing.
"It's tonight?" Ginny repeats. "The shagging, then?"
Hermione still ducks her face out of habit, checking to see if anyone is paying attention. No one seems to be.
"Yes, I think so. Yes."
Ginny holds up a hand. "Okay, if you're not sure about things, don't do it. Promise me."
"No, I want to. A lot. I just -" she struggles and finally decides to just come out with it. She's only just committed to the idea of girl talk, after all. "How do you know how to make it good for him?"
Ginny's astonished. "I've never known a guy to be very particular. What exactly are you asking?"
"It's just all been about me. I want to think – to think I can do something, too."
Clearly puzzled, Ginny starts to speak. "Are you saying… he hasn't gotten off this whole time?"
"No, he has," she tries to clarify, flushing red and adding her own muffliato from under the table. "It's just not been because of anything I've done. I've learned an awful lot about me but I haven't learned… much of anything about men."
Ginny's eyes narrow slightly, still confused. She gives her head a quick shake, reassembling her features into something normal. "I – well, I'm sure he's doing what he wants to. But he's really been focussing exclusively on you?"
Hermione nods mutely.
"And he's getting you off more than once?"
More nodding.
Blinking twice, Ginny says, "This doesn't really sound casual, to me, Hermione."
"He doesn't fancy me," Hermione protests, shaking her head. "It's not like that. He – he thinks I'm sexy, I think. I don't know."
It sounds tremendously stupid out loud and she can feel the heat on her cheeks. But that was part of what drove her to proposition him in the first place: her confidence that he was, in fact, attracted to her.
Ginny's openly sceptical anyway. "If you say so. You don't have to look like you'd rather crawl under the table, by the way. I'm not doubting that he thinks you're hot; I'm doubting that he thinks it's casual."
This doesn't help her embarrassment at the whole thing. "I'm not – hot, I'm -"
Ginny levels her with a stare. "I don't think you see yourself very clearly. You've been spending too much time in books. This is good for you! Keep it up. And let me know how it goes tonight. Don't worry about doing anything in particular. I'm sure however things have been going are just fine."
She gives Hermione a wink and moves to stand, then stops. "I wish he'd stop glaring at Harry like that."
Hermione looks up. Malfoy is looking their way, and Harry is seated just on the other side of Ginny. Even without their silencing charm, he's turned the other way, immersed in a Quidditch discussion with Ron and Seamus and completely oblivious to the pair of them.
But that's not the look she sees on Malfoy's face. His eyes are dark, the dark blue they sometimes are. It looks almost predatory out of context and Hermione feels a slight chill.
It's a stare but it's not a glare. It's his blatant expression of desire, the one she's seen on his face many times over the past few days. He's intently scanning her, his eyes slightly narrowed. He's drinking her in. Another shiver goes down her spine.