In Arithmancy that afternoon, she's still watching his hands.
It's unfortunate because Arithmancy really does require concentration. Annoyingly, Malfoy doesn't seem much fussed. He's working along perfectly fine, relaxed in his chair. He's casually skating his quill across his parchment, seemingly without a care in the world.
Hermione's preoccupied, though. It's a split; visually watching his hands, mentally thinking about what happened at lunch.
How many times has she seen a look exactly like that on his face? From across the Great Hall, in lessons, brushing past in corridors? How many times has she assumed it was a glare? Every time, more or less. How many times has she assumed hostility from it? The expression doesn't exactly look kind. It's not hard to make the mistake.
But now that she can identify it… she turns over the implications. She'd noticed that he found her attractive since arriving back here this term. It's occurring to her now that it may have been much longer than that.
She'd registered his lack of antipathy during lessons, his willingness to partner with her. An academic respect if nothing else. Then the way his gaze would follow her legs, her hair. Her chest, on occasion. But he's also just a guy, a bloke who wants to get in someone's knickers as much as the next one does.
Although if that were true, he'd have just shagged her. She came right to him. The first night she'd even been clutching that nearly-empty bottle of firewhisky that she could have drunk entirely by herself before arriving. He could have tried to do anything he wanted. She'd asked him to do it.
And the next night, when she was half-sure the whole thing was a giant mistake – the look on his face when he thought she might be there to back out. She'd been too nervous to fully register it at the time, but… and him asking her 'why me?' She'd never properly answered. It had been more of a default, that she didn't want to pick anybody else. She hadn't actually said that she finds him sexy.
For all his bluster that the foreplay is most of the fun, she can't imagine it's the same for him. Maybe if she'd been dedicating herself to crawling all over his body for hours a night, but she hasn't been.
She could, though.
So, okay. Hermione forces herself to get better organised. What does she want?
Shagging, and loads more of everything else they've been doing. If he's really invested in the same thing, they could do this all year.
Well, there's only – what? Three more months until summer. A little less; they're into April, now. She has April, May, and June. And then, what? She doesn't know. Summer. Seventh year. A war. A war that could come along anytime and they're on opposite sides.
She wonders if that fact is as tantalising to him as it is to her. The wrong side, the wrong sort, the wrong one to choose.
He doesn't seem like the wrong sort lately, though. Not just because of how good he is in bed. He's just – kind, to her. Understanding. Gentle. Attentive. He's also extremely intelligent, and incredibly sexy, and –
Maybe he doesn't have to be the wrong sort.
What the hell is she thinking? She wrenches herself back into place. Does she want to date him, now? Please. Everyone in her periphery would have kittens.
"Miss Granger!"
Her eyes fly up to Professor Vector, who looks cross. She's pointing at a complex equation with her wand. "Do you care to contribute?"
She's lost. Completely and utterly lost. Hermione scrambles her mind to assess the equation but Malfoy clears his throat. Without glancing her way, he delivers the answer in a tone of clear superiority and Professor Vector snaps at him for interrupting. She'd asked Miss Granger, after all.
But she retreats back to the front of the class and Hermione sighs in relief. Malfoy dips an eyebrow at her in a slightly scolding expression. 'Pay attention,' it seems to say somewhere in her addled brain. 'Be good.'
"Did Weasley say something to upset you?"
Hm? Hermione turns to face him. Did Ron say something? Oh. Her brain catches up at last. Ginny.
She's still confused, though. "No. Why?"
Malfoy gives her a droll look. "You're usually only that red around me."
Hermione isn't quite sure how to reply to this, so says nothing. Ever since her chats to Ginny earlier, she's over-analysing everything in sight. Malfoy wanders over to her and puts his hand on her cheek.
"I rather prefer being the only one making you turn that red, but as long as she wasn't saying anything that bothered you…"
She has absolutely no idea how to describe what she and Ginny had been chatting about to ease his mind, even as a partial truth. She forces a small smile and he stops. "What's wrong?"
Her silence does nothing to reassure him and he frowns, backing away a step. "Are you having second thoughts? You have to tell me, if you are."
All of this has been different. He didn't pounce on her right when she walked in the room. He was sitting in the chair again, another tray of snacks on the table. Cheeses and crackers, cured meats. Olives. Nothing fancy, but still a departure from the last two nights.
Hermione is wearing knickers.
But she looks up at him and manages a better smile. "No, I'm not having second thoughts. Nothing like that. Ginny just – Ginny fancies Harry, that's all. And of course, he's oblivious to it."
This seems to work, at least a little, and Malfoy tugs her over to the couch and chair. She takes an agreeable seat and picks up a small square of cheese inside a folded-over piece of prosciutto, and Malfoy seems to relax some.
"Blaise will be disappointed," he says casually and Hermione almost inhales the prosciutto.
"Sorry?"
"Zabini fancies her. He'd never admit it openly, of course, so he can't be too aggravated if she starts going out with Potter. But he's fancied her for years."
She still has to clear her throat before she can speak. She bypasses the fact that Ginny would probably not fancy Blaise, either way. "Yes, well, that's about how it works. If he's not willing to say it publicly, she'll eventually find someone different. I'd certainly never picked up on it. I'm sure Ginny hasn't. She has picked up on part of this, though."
Hermione had no idea that last bit was about to come out until it did. Malfoy looks interested and tries to mask it.
"What do you mean?"
"My absence has been noticed, but Ginny's the only one who's put it together that I haven't been in the library all the time. She's just started serious OWL revision."
Malfoy seems to take this in stride. "Did you give her any more than that?"
"She didn't ask who it was. She did ask about my 'sort of,' though, and that's why I was so red." This isn't true but seems safe enough to deflect with, and it seems to suffice.
One half of his mouth turns up. "Has she had a 'sort of,' then?"
Hermione snorts and covers her mouth quickly. "I don't think so. Well, I don't know. She only mentioned Dean Thomas or Michael Corner, and she's sure you aren't one of them."
"Oh? Why?" He's curious and doing a poor job hiding it. She grins a little.
"Because neither of them ever got Ginny off five times in three days."
He grins now, too, widely. "Mentioned that, did you? You little minx."
"Should I not have?" she queries, honestly concerned. He probably doesn't want anyone to know, either. But she didn't mention his name.
"No, by all means, go brag. It ends up for much better stories than 'we sort of did it,'" he snarks and she smacks him on the shoulder. He laughs before growing more serious again. "How old was he, anyway?"
She's caught off-step. "Ah… I don't know. Probably twenty or twenty-one. I didn't exactly ask."
"And couldn't stay sober enough to take a pretty girl home," Malfoy murmurs, almost scolding. She turns a little pink again and isn't sure why. Maybe just because he called her 'pretty.'
"Well, we got to his home," she clarifies unnecessarily. He knows this part. "It was the rest of it he couldn't do."
"Yes, I remember you saying he tried several times," Malfoy mutters under his breath. "You didn't take that as any reflection on you, did you?"
His eyes narrow sharply, as if this hadn't occurred to him before. It hadn't occurred to her either, and for once, she can honestly say she hadn't been particularly self-conscious about that part at all. She hadn't been entirely sure why things hadn't worked, but his general lack of coordination, fumbling about, and eventual drunken snoring had made it fairly clear that it would probably have happened that way no matter what.
Hermione shakes her head silently. She's not red now and he seems to take that as confirmation that she feels no personal embarrassment about that part.
"What did he manage before things went tits up?"
This is starting to edge more towards awkward territory and Hermione tries to stay focussed. It's not like she's going to ask him to detail his previous sexual experiences but from his perspective, hers may have some bearing on what they're about to do.
She wonders if there's always this much talking before sex. The last time they talked this much, he told her he wouldn't be shagging her that night.
She skips the condom bit, this time, and stares at the fabric of the couch instead of at Malfoy. "He... he got ready. I thought he was ready, anyway. He started trying, but – do we have to talk about this?"
No, she doesn't feel any sort of culpability for how things went but it doesn't mean she wants to talk about the exact steps he did or didn't take, or what she thought and felt about it all. Half her difficulty is that she really doesn't know how to describe what happened. It seems like it should be simple, but when she tries to find the words, she can't.
He comes to sit next to her and shakes his head. "No. Of course not, if you'd rather not. That's part of what I mean, when you get to say you'd rather not. I was just curious. I'm sorry." He puts an arm around her shoulders and even kisses her on the temple. "There's just one more awkward thing we have to get out of the way."
He laughs a little as she stiffens. "Sorry, but I do have to ask. Have you done a contraceptive charm?"
She has, in fact. She did right after her shower tonight while she was still positive she'd have privacy in their shared dormitory bathroom.
"I figured you did. My father always told me to cast it myself. He didn't trust Pansy, I don't think."
This does make her smile a little.
"But I don't mean to imply anything. Even if Pansy wouldn't have minded, I didn't think you'd want to waddle around school pregnant."
No, she would not.
Malfoy leans in to give her a soft kiss on the mouth, letting his thumb stroke her cheek. "We still don't have to, you know. We can do whatever else you want."
Hermione tries to get out of her head a little. Ginny was right; this is good for her. She wanted to do something for herself and this ought to be it. Why shouldn't it be? Whatever her brain is trying to overthink about can wait.
Tonight has been the entire point of this whole endeavor – something she started trying in earnest almost four months ago. Whatever comes next, she'll handle it then. Not now. Not tonight.
She tips her face up to kiss him properly. "It seems like you're the one worrying."
"You're quieter than usual, that's all."
"Maybe you're more talkative than usual." Hermione turns to the side and swings one leg to his other hip, settling down in his lap the way they did their first night in the Come and Go Room. Tilting her face to kiss him, she finds him receptive, turning into enthusiastic.
"I just want you to be sure," he says against her mouth, his hands running up and down her sides.
"If you hadn't been able to make me sure over the past few days, I don't know what else you could have done," she responds, also busy. "Besides, have you forgotten this was my idea from the start?"
"Couldn't possibly," he manages, but she's not quite done.
"I just want things to be more equal tonight. I want you in this, too."
He makes a noise against her that sounds like half-scoff, half-grunt. "Well, that's the thing about shagging, Granger. It's pretty equal participation. At least, it's supposed to be. And I've been 'in this' all along."
"No, you've been doing all the work."
He scoffs properly this time. "If you think it's work, I've been doing it wrong."
Well, that's probably fair. Hermione reflects. 'Work' was probably the wrong word. "Then you'll let me have half the fun?"
He scrunches his eyes closed like he's in pain. She feels a rush at how he gathers himself, his hands resting on her hips. She settles downwards on his lap, letting her weight press her against him, and waits for the twitch in his trousers. She's not disappointed.
"You might be the death of me," he exhales, working his nose into her hair behind her ear.
"I hope not," she replies in a low voice and the twitch at her thigh becomes a jerk.
"You want to?" he asks, still a tinge of doubt in his voice.
Hermione nearly says, 'of course, do hurry up,' and reverts at the last minute to something he's shown he likes. "Please?"
Her left hand is against his jaw and she feels him clench it. It rolls under her hand, his eyes closed, and he inhales deeply. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Please. Do – do whatever -"
He bites her lip and she can't say anything else. But this is what she wanted. She wanted someone to shag her. This is different in a few ways, specific ways she'll parse through later. Her analytic mind won't let her do it later, though. This isn't a random stranger she found. This is someone who knows her, her body. Who knows she likes –
Her bra is gone, flung somewhere. Malfoy does like throwing them about, she's noticed. Her clothes end up all over. It's almost like he prefers to avoid the reminder that they existed.
A sense of urgency is overtaking her, as if there's a ticking clock over them. She knows that's silly, but she doesn't want him to baulk again either.
She's topless and straddling his lap, and her hands are around his face. She can kiss him this way, snog him deep and free, taste him. His hands are wrapping around her middle. His thumbs are right below her breasts and it's perfect, what he can do there. Hermione's mouth opens and he kisses her further, more intense than before. He makes that little sound, the one that sounds like a groan, like he can't stand it anymore.
Well, neither can she. Hermione rocks down with her hips, sliding herself across his thigh – the one where he keeps throbbing, where he keeps absent-mindedly adjusting, keeps trying to ignore. She can't ignore it. This is him, the part of him he keeps trying to hold back. The part he wants as an afterthought.
Not tonight. She's determined. Malfoy's hands are in her hair, his mouth on hers, his chest against hers. She inhales deeply, letting her breasts press against him, and takes the time to notice how he pauses to feel her. He likes the contact.
Hermione bites his lower lip, keeping it between her teeth, while she reaches down between his legs. He freezes and his forearm twitches like he can't decide where to go.
She slides her fingers up and down his length, loving the way it moves under her hand. Malfoy still hasn't budged, as if he's waiting to see what she'll do. She doesn't really know but it's the first time she's touched him below the waist with her hands at all.
It's hard and pressed solidly beneath his pants leg. She can trace the outline of it and does, dragging her fingernails along it. There's a bulge at the end she can feel even though the fabric of his trousers and Hermione realises with surprise that it's gotten longer.
Her hand moves to unfasten the button and his closes around her wrist. She looks up, startled. He's flushed, perspiring slightly. She's never seen him pink before. "There's plenty of time for that."
"Why not now?"
Malfoy's mouth lifts at one side. "Usually it wouldn't matter, but tonight I need it to do something specific. I got off before I came here, just in case, but if I get off again, we won't be shagging tonight."
Ah. That makes sense. In fact, it sounds like a fun sort of challenge for a different night, but Hermione stops that train of thought. This might be the last night. Maybe she should hold off on the shagging after all, make sure there are more nights…
Satisfied that she's no longer trying to get his trousers off, Malfoy's hands are spanning her back and tipping her backwards slightly. He dips his head to her breast instead and she lets her head drop, her hair brushing his knees behind her. His tongue swirls around her and she sighs, her eyes flickering closed.
"Hold on," he says and stands abruptly. Her knees tighten on his hips and she hooks her ankles behind his back for support. His fingers tighten around her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Hermione takes the opportunity to unbutton his shirt. She pushes it off his shoulders until it's hanging down his back, unable to go any further while he's holding her.
She kind of likes him holding her like this. She straightens up, bringing his face back to hers with her hands on his cheeks. He hikes her up a little and she's taller than he is, now. It's an odd switch, tilting his face up to hers instead of the other way around. She likes snogging this way and wants to do more of it, nipping at his lip.
She brushes his hair back with one hand, feeling like she never pays enough attention to it. It's sexy, though. She likes it in his eyes but she likes playing with it, too. Her hands are roaming everywhere for what feels like the first time.
A fingernail traces around the shell of his ear. Her fingers scrape through the hair at the base of his neck. She grips his cheek to make him kiss her, opening his mouth with hers. He makes that delectable little noise against her lips and her heart skips a beat.
Suddenly, she's falling. Her back hits the bed and he lands on top of her, supporting his weight with his forearms on either side of her face.
"What do you want first?" he asks seriously, and Hermione doesn't understand. He chuckles at her quizzical expression. "What's been your favourite part?"
('Do you even know what you'd have wanted him to do?')
There's really no question here. She loves the feeling of having part of him inside her, but his tongue between her legs… After blinking a couple of times, she cobbles something together. Or tries to. She turns brilliantly red, again, and he laughs.
"You have to tell me. I want you to say it."
"When you…" she trails off, face flaming.
"A good girl would tell me what she wants," Malfoy whispers in her ear and her body nearly convulses beneath him.
"When you went down on me and used your fingers, too." She tries to bury her face in the pillow at her right and he won't let her.
"A trusty combination," he says with confidence and a giggle escapes her. "Try not to be too disappointed when I don't let you come, though."
What? That throws her off but he gives her a sly grin and settles himself lower on the bed.
He pulls her knickers down first and then reaches up to her hips and tugs. She lifts them enough for him to yank the zipper of her skirt down, and flings that to the side, too.
She's completely naked, somehow for the first time. It's not that he hasn't seen it all already, but –
He buries his face between her legs and she yelps. Using his fingers, he parts her and works his tongue into her with enthusiasm. The heat in her stomach explodes into flames and her hands find their way to her own knees, spreading herself open.
"That's perfect," he murmurs against her and she shivers again. How can she feel a chill when this fire is licking at her the way it is?
His compliments feel quite as good as his praise, and isn't it the same thing, really? One of his fingers slips inside her, deep and slow, and she can feel how wet she is. In and out he slicks, gently turning his finger. He doesn't add a second one, though.
"Please…" she begs and Malfoy groans. But the next sensation is him pulling away, straightening up on his knees. She looks down, almost alarmed, and he chuckles at her expression.
His own is dark, his eyes hooded. He's loosening his trousers, now, pulling them off at the ankles. He drops them absently at the foot of the bed, not bothering to throw them to a far corner of the room, Hermione notices with amusement.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes on her.
Hermione sits up, too, and reaches for his boxer briefs with one hand. They're clingy and she can't stop staring. He stops her.
"Can't take back this part. Are you sure?"
She doesn't want to take back any of it and finds this something of an odd comment anyway. Does he think she'll regret it? After all the chances she's had to stop, back out, change her mind?
"Yes. I'm sure."
He exhales heavily. He's breathing hard but his eyes don't leave hers. "You want me to take your virginity," he confirms, still with a hint of a question in his tone.
"Yes."
She sees his throat bob as he swallows hard and releases himself from his briefs. Her eyes widen. That's… large. She has no comparison point, of course, but she realises how deceptive her quick sighting of it the prior night had been. His hand had been wrapped around it and it hadn't seemed… she blinks twice.
"That's a very flattering expression," Malfoy manages, "but it's a little different seeing it and still wanting me to fuck you with it."
It's the first time either of them has ever been so blunt about it. Her heart is racing. She's completely forgotten that she was begging him for a second finger inside her five minutes ago. Dimly, she thinks they'll probably need to start fresh on the foreplay and finds the courage she was lacking not long ago.
"Will you – will you go down on me again?"
A look of resigned confirmation flashes across his face and he nods. In horror, she realises what he thinks. She backtracks wildly.
"I still want to. I'd just like to go back to the start with both of us naked, for a change."
Malfoy's eyes narrow suspiciously, clearly not ready to believe her. Also, he's not quite naked, his shirt still unbuttoned but draped behind his shoulders. That's not the part she's concerned with, though. She rises on her own knees on the bed and stretches her hand out to touch him, for the third time.
He lets her. She's a little surprised, for some reason.
She traces her fingers down it like she did earlier when it was still confined. It gives a violent throb in the air and she feels a small spool of heat flare back up in her stomach. She glances up at his face. His eyes are shut tight, his jaw clenched.
She fists his shirt and gives it a pull. He opens his eyes and looks down, and she tugs again. With her other hand, she reaches up to his face and makes him kiss her.
Feeling like they've completely swapped places now, she moves back on the bed and makes him lie back down with her. She kisses him again, deeper this time, and he responds. He keeps his hips away from her, though, and that won't do.
She shifts closer to him, letting her breast rest against his arm. She keeps one hand threaded into the hair behind his neck and moves the other back down to lightly feel him. She strokes up and down with her fingers, letting herself form a mental image while she can't look directly at it.
"This is better," he's muttering now. He's pressed into her neck but it almost sounds like he's speaking to himself. "Should have done this first anyway. Should have let you get used to the other half of the equation before -"
Malfoy's breathing is growing ragged at her exploration and in a flash, Hermione knows what he's about to let happen. Maybe angling for it, even. If he gets off again, there wouldn't be any shagging tonight, he'd said. He's trying to draw it out just to make her feel more comfortable.
"Stop," she says firmly and his eyes fly to hers. His concern is evident. "You've done… everything right. You've done a great job."
It twitches under her hand and she thinks maybe she's not the only one who likes being told she's done well.
"You've done more for this than I could ever have expected you to. I didn't know what to ask for, but you have – every time."
"Not this time," he mutters again, looking abashed.
"What is so wrong with this time, exactly? Nothing I can tell. But if I can't convince you, then make it up to me." He gawps at her and she continues, "I thought I asked you to go down on me again."
She's shocked him into silence and it's gratifying. Hermione reaches a hand up to brush his hair back and then gives him a light push. She giggles at his expression but he does it, shaking his head in slight disbelief.
She's a little disbelieving, too. Apparently, she can voice things with more confidence when she's feeling bossy about it. He takes direction well but seems to want the upper hand back. Fine with her, she thinks, as he pushes her legs open with his hands.
He goes to work, giving her a broad lick and swirling around her clit. Remembering he'd like her holding herself open for him, she does this again and he murmurs his approval. He slides one finger into her slowly, in and out, and alternates pressure with his tongue.
Hermione's head falls to the pillow and she arches her back. He glances up and says, "Touch your nipple, like I would do."
Mm, he does want to be back in charge of things. Alright, then. She can follow directions, too. She does this, but only after wetting the tips of her fingers in her mouth first. She circles one nipple and gives it a little squeeze, and Malfoy groans.
"I know you liked that," he breathes against her. "I can feel it."
He's right, almost as much as she likes the feeling of his breath on her wet centre. She does it again for good measure, tweaking it between her fingers.
"You're so good," he praises her, and her exhale comes out more like a moan.
He keeps his touch light though, gentle. One finger, less pressure on her nerves. Hermione can't figure out what that means – he'd said he wouldn't let her come earlier, probably doesn't want to risk her being sore, so does this mean he's still planning to shag her today? She hopes so but she can't think clearly when he's doing things like this between her legs.
She's practically writhing beneath him. "Please," she begs without meaning to. She feels his cheeks scrunch as he smiles and he adds his second finger. She gives a small cry.
He starts pattering his tongue against her clit, flicking fast, and all Hermione's wonderings about whether he was going to make her come fly out the window. "Please. Please, Draco."
He groans into her again, his breath hot on her centre, and he curls his finger. It scrapes perfectly inside her and she cries out. For all the light teasing, this orgasm hits her like a Bludger, racking through her in violent waves.
She realises he's licking it up, suckling at her around his fingers. It causes another wave to ripple through her and she shudders.
Gods, if two fingers feel that good… what will the rest of him feel like? Suddenly she can't wait. She pulls him up to her, higher on the bed, and kisses him again. His face is wet and his tongue is salty, and she wonders at her own taste.
Not wanting him to baulk again, she keeps her attention off his erection. She's just glad he still has it, that he didn't take care of it himself.
Malfoy threads a hand back into her hair and Hermione lets her hands explore his chest. He's breathing a little heavily and she likes the way it moves under her. She's found she likes feeling every way his body reacts to her, whether it's his arousal or the way he tries to control his breathing. Seeing the visible darkening of his eyes.
He's drinking her in again, now, his expression hungry and wanting. She lets her fingers skim down to stroke him again, feeling intrinsically that this is different from how it was a few moments ago.
She's proven right almost at once as he gently clasps her behind the knee and moves her leg up and around his hip. They're facing each other on their sides and she feels the cooler air on the still-heated flesh between her thighs.
His fingers skate back down, ghosting over her so lightly she can only feel the air move. Her breath staggers slightly and she nuzzles into his neck.
"Do you still want to?" he murmurs to her and she nods. He sets his jaw, his forehead dipping to rest against her. "Whatever I said last night, this won't feel as good the first time. That's why – I did want you to come because you might not from the sex. I just wanted to prepare you. It's probably going to hurt some. So you have to tell me if you want me to stop."
She realises he's right at her entrance when she feels it twitch. She settles her weight down slightly, letting it rest against her and he hisses between his teeth.
He moves it to the side and slips a finger inside again, first. He kisses her neck, exploring up to her ear to suck on her earlobe as his finger moves in and out. Hermione feels herself growing wetter, clearly his intention, and she lets her tongue dance across his neck, too.
His chest is moving unevenly beneath her hand and he gently rolls her onto her back.
This is familiar from her night on someone else's sofa, Lucas kneeling in front of her and fumbling with a condom. She'd been staring at the ceiling, watching it spin, and wishing it would knock it off.
He'd finally crept into position and she'd felt him at her entrance. He'd thrusted forward and she'd felt something go inside, some, but it didn't feel hard enough. It did have some shape and for all she'd known, that was how it was supposed to go. Maybe that was how it worked. Soon she'd realised otherwise, of course, when he'd stumbled backwards and cursed, struggling with a second condom as he stroked himself with increasing embarrassment and frustration. Eventually, that had repeated itself and Hermione gave up.
Not this time. This is… wholly different. She'd known it would be, in the abstract, having felt and then seen Malfoy, but this…
He pushes in slowly, propping himself up with one fist in the bedcovers, the other presumably wrapped around his hard length to control his entry.
Hermione's mouth falls open and he asks quickly, "Okay?"
She nods in silence and reminds herself to breathe. It doesn't hurt and she doesn't know at what point it might. But the sensation is indescribable.
She feels herself stretch to accommodate him. She doesn't know what the finger equivalent of this would be and she's sidetracked from the comparison as he slips a little further in. She feels an odd difference and realises it's the bulge at his tip that's moved fully inside, now. She can tell the contrast once the tip passed the entrance and her eyes flutter closed.
"Still okay?" Malfoy's winded and she can relate.
He's barely inside her. She nods, wanting to see where it goes, and he pushes a little further, then withdraws. She's confused until he starts to move forward again, letting himself stroke in and out, his tip cresting right at her opening back and forth. Her folds swallow him up.
That feels… fucking great. She can tell she's getting wetter, and she can tell he can tell. His eyes close too and his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
She knows there's going to be a lot more and there was the promised pain somewhere in here, but she thinks she could come like this. That ridge stroking her inner wall resembles his finger curling, and obviously that's intentional. Hermione feels stupid for just putting it together.
"Don't stop," she breathes and his eyes lock on hers. They're dark, hooded, heavy. His mouth is open, his hair in his eyes, and he's so sexy she wants to cry.
He keeps the same shallow depth but increases his pace. He must let go of himself because she feels his fingers circle her clit and she gasps.
His cock slips in and out and she's so wet. He presses onto her nerves and she feels herself start to come. She clamps down and the sensation is so different. She's gripping around something so much larger than his fingers. Her walls flutter around this strange, new thing, clenching around what little of it they have.
"Fuck!" Malfoy coughs.
It wasn't her strongest orgasm, still mentally distracted by the idea of the sex and how different everything feels, and she looks up at him as it washes away. His fist has what looks like a death grip in his own hair. It looks quite painful, and she's a little concerned before realising he's probably doing it on purpose. He doesn't want to come. Not yet.
He slides out of her and turns away for a moment. She sees his shoulders shudder, his face in his hand. He visibly steadies his breathing and returns to the bed. Hermione's still slightly concerned and it must show on her face.
"You're so tight," he confesses. "Which is a good thing."
She'd been fairly certain it is but thinks it's sweet, his worry that she'd interpret his actions as something bad instead.
"Also good," he continues, stepping back between her legs, "is that you found part of this good. Would you like to feel the rest?"
Gods, yes. She nods silently, her eyes on him.
"This part won't feel like that," he warns again, tilting his head a little. "Tell me if you need to stop."
Hermione doesn't care. Not a bit. If sex is like this, she wants to get the painful part over with so they can have loads more of the rest. The good parts. All the good parts. In nonverbal response, she lifts her knees so her feet are flat on the mattress, and looks at him.
Malfoy gives his head that little disbelieving shake again but angles himself back in place. Her heart speeds back up, anticipating, and she licks her lower lip. His eyes follow it, dark and intense.
Stopping as if he forgot something, he moves his hand back down first. He strokes her lightly, parting her, slipping a finger in. He leans over her, placing his other hand around one ankle and rubbing his thumb on her anklebone. His mouth closes around one nipple as he fingers her deeply, turning it to the side and moving in and out. She instantly wettens and whimpers, arching her back to push her breast up into his mouth. He nips at her, tugs a little, and she feels his fingers replaced with the head of his cock.
He starts to push back in and now she knows what to expect. She keeps her feet planted on the mattress, her knees open, and lets him control the pace again. He does something similar this time, in and out shallowly, and she notices he's very gradually going further in.
She stretches. She can't believe how she stretches. She feels completely full already; how can there be more? She spares a glance downward and sees he's still maybe only halfway in. Maybe a little more. Good gods. Is he big? Is this considered 'big' or is this normal?
He leans back over her, lowering from supporting himself with a fist to supporting himself with his forearm. His other hand comes up to touch her cheek.
"Still okay?"
Hermione nods and he pushes further in. He dips his forehead to hers and breathes, "That's it."
She feels a rush at this and flutters around him. He groans and the hand by her cheek goes back into his own hair. She lets her hands travel up behind his neck, to his shoulders, and waits until he's ready.
On his next thrust, which is starting to carry a slightly faster pace, Malfoy hits a wall and she sucks in air between her teeth at the flash of pain. Her nails scrape his back as she grips him unexpectedly. His shirt is still on, the shirttails dangling on either side of them, but she can't process the absurdity of that.
He stops at once and cups her face again. "This is the part I was talking about. We can stop here."
She takes a minute to process the surprise of it, the stabby feeling. Her breathing is shallow across her tight chest, but she knows she doesn't want to stop. She slides her hands down his back and repositions her hips. He hasn't moved, waiting to see what she wants to do.
But she feels him throb inside her. They're still enough that it's the first time she's noticed it and she loves the sensation. She moves her legs around his, her heels hooking behind her thighs, and pulls him into her without warning. His body responds instinctively, she thinks, because she certainly couldn't drag him anywhere.
The flash of pain becomes a searing bolt of fire that slashes through her, and she thinks he must bottom out deep inside. Malfoy releases a guttural moan, alarming her, and stills there. "Fuck," he whispers. "Are you -"
"I'm okay," she says. "Keep going."
She's not at all sure it's over, but now she's through what – she hopes – was the worst, she'd rather get things back on track. She hasn't heard this described in any kind of detail but she's surprised to feel herself wet again, as he slowly moves back out. He doesn't go all the way; just a little, then back in, as if he wants to stay in the limited zone they're managed to reach.
The pain is fading, rapidly. Faster than Hermione would have expected, given the authority of its arrival, and now she has time to absorb the new sensation that is sweeping right along. She's wrapped around him, hot and wet. He's deep inside and she has no idea if there's more or –
Yes, there is. He's watching her face as he picks up the pace again, sliding in smoothly and she feels him fill her. Her eyes flutter closed again, her mouth falling open slightly, and with his next thrust she feels his body against her inner thighs. He holds still and she feels him twitch and throb there. Opening her eyes, she finds his are now closed and he's nearly panting.
"Keep going," she breathes, returning her feet to the mattress and spreading her knees again. He sighs into her neck and pulls out before driving back in.
His urgency is addictive. He's not holding back now and she feels the tension in her stomach start to coil again, rising to the surface.
"I can't -" he chokes. "I won't be able to -"
"Don't hold on, then," she tells him, whispering in his ear. "Finish. I want you to."
It's all he needed. He shudders violently, a full-body affair, and she relishes the sensation of having him all the way inside her. She can feel every part of him and it's still indescribable.
He fumbles between her legs again with his hand, not looking, as he thrusts back in. Once more, twice, and he's on her clit and Hermione can't hold on either. She gasps, gripping his arms.
"Please, Draco -"
He bottoms out inside her again, pressing his own finger into her bundle of nerves, and she starts to contract. He gives a low cry with his eyes squeezed shut as she clamps down, her walls locking around him in spasms.
This orgasm is completely different. She can't process the feeling of wrapping around something so large, seizing in place and yet feeling like her muscles have nowhere to go. It doesn't feel like there's a millimetre of room inside her. She feels compacted from the inside out and shatters.
Wave after wave shakes her and she realises he's shaking too. Half the spasms she's feeling are now coming from him, his cock jerking inside her.
All her attention to how his body responds to her is nothing like this. Feeling this, the culmination of his arousal and what she's done to him, takes her breath away.
When he finally slips free, she feels the loss. Seeing what's left behind makes her stop – the wetness she'd attributed to the final stage of things had been, in large part, blood. She starts to turn red and Malfoy looks uncomfortable.
"Sorry," he says at last, picking his trousers back up off the floor. "I don't think that would be quite so bad if I -"
"You didn't do it," Hermione flushes, finding that she'd rather pull the bedcovers up – both to cover herself and to cover the evidence she left behind. This feels so different from the last couple of nights. From last night when she'd actually fallen asleep there for a while. Now they're collecting clothing and dancing around things and not looking at each other.
"Well, no, I did. I -" he stops and scrapes his hand through his hair awkwardly. He picks up her jumper and hands it to her. She accepts it gratefully, still beet red. "If I wasn't -"
She's getting the gist of it, she thinks. And she's already mortified, so she might as well leap. She can't embarrass herself any more than this. "So it is that you're large."
Malfoy's pink now, too, and she finds it validating. She's already starting to feel better. He doesn't want to say it. He didn't want to earlier, either. He'd said something last night about not wanting to 'intimidate her with this part,' and she'd thought it was the addition of that component in general. Not that his, in particular, was something different.
She decides to run with this. She's never seen him look so uncomfortable and it's making her feel much better. "I thought you were," she nods sagely, trying to hide a smirk. "Compared to others I've seen -"
She can't keep a straight face and thinks she's blown it, but he scoffs incredulously and she doubles down.
"I might have seen loads – loads of – of penises -" but now she can't maintain. She dissolves in giggles and he looks a little offended.
She's relieved. She can't even pin down the number of ways in which she's relieved. He sidles over to her, bare chest and trousers up but unfastened. His hair is in his eyes, leaning into her. Her heart staggers wildly as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.
"You have not," Malfoy says, husky and low. "But I'll play along. Even if you had, I'm the only one who's ever touched you like that."
She bites her lower lip and leaps again. "Will you teach me how to touch you like that?"
His face is indecipherable but his eyes are so dark she almost can't see the pupils.
"Did you think I'd just shag you and let you walk out, to get on with your life?"
Hermione can hardly breathe.
"Not a chance."