Draco woke up wonderfully rested, but, again, alone; and wishing Hermione would have stayed in bed with him, wrapped in his embrace. ' Damn, did I just wish for a cuddle session? Malfoys don't cuddle. Not even themselves. She's turning me into a Gryffindor! ' Groaning, he got out of the bed and searched for his boxers. The morning was simply too cool to walk around naked, and he didn't want his most precious parts freezing. Noticing he was quite sticky in some places, he decided to have a shower, or at least a s courgify before breakfast. He stepped out of the bedroom and a divine scent flooded his nostrils. ' Oh Salazar, please, let that be pancakes! ' The blond turned around the corner to the kitchen, fully anticipating Hermione to sit there, a coffee and a newspaper in hand, her curls a bit ruffled from sleep and love-making. Perhaps she wore his shirt, unbuttoned, granting him a view on her glorious tits? "Hermione, do you happen to know where my wand-"It was then he realised there was not one, bu t four female faces looking back at him. The table was set for breakfast, a big portion of pancakes in the middle, with Juliet, Anny and Eileen sitting around it. One could nearly hear their jaws dropping upon the sight of Draco Malfoy, only clad in his boxers and wearing this irresistible out-of-bed expression that made him an alluring blend of sexy and cute. After five seconds of stunned silence, Eileen was the first of the three visitors who regained the ability of speech.
"Blimey, if I were into men, I'd be the first in line helping him to look for his wand !" Hermione started to giggle from where she stood next to the sink. "And I'd be the second. I bet something so long, thick and hard won't be so difficult to find!" Juliet added, bubbling in laughter. The four women were soon howling, and Draco didn't even try to suppress his - totally male- chuckling. Hermione closed the distance between Draco and herself and kissed him lightly on the lips, feeling his arm going around her waist. "Sorry, I totally forgot that I invited the girls over for breakfast this morning. I silenced the bedroom and left a note you must have overlooked, reading: ' There's a bunch of under-sexed women sitting in my kitchen'," she whispered into his ear. His answer, again underlined with a gentle nibbling on her ear, sent excited tingles through her body. "I'm very cocksure that under-sexed doesn't hold true to you. Let's make it certain that it stays that way, yes? I'd be willing to assist you." ' Gods, is this the crazy Draco-Malfoy-way to ask me for a relationship?' All warm inside, she decided to test the waters. "Absolutely. You should shower and dress, though." She ran a finger over his abs and grinned playfully.
"You are too much of a temptation, even for lesbians, and this lioness doesn't like to share her prey." With a pat on her bum and another chuckle, Draco let go of Hermione. He bowed to the three gaping woman at the table as if he wore an evening suit. "Ladies. Excuse me, please." And with that he left Hermione's kitchen for the shower, walking with a posture worthy of his pureblood pedigree and didn't even look back when the ' ladies ' dissolved into giggles. After she handed out coffee and tea, Hermione sat down at the table. She could anticipate what was to come next. "Whoa, girl, this is the guy from the club and the hospital, isn't it?" Juliet started the interrogation, and Anny contributed, "He's absolutely yummy . But didn't you say that he is a prejudiced bastard?" Hermione blushed. "Well, he was the last time we met. He's changed a lot since then, though he still has arrogant and cunning streaks, but I guess that comes with his heritage. Draco tries hard to make people forget his past. You see, there was a lot of darkness in him and around him."
"I saw the tattoo, this snake and skull thing on his left forearm. Was he involved in a gang or something? Though that doesn't add up to his articulated phrasing and this elite boarding school you visited." Anny expressed. Hermione nodded to her friend's observation. "You're right, I guess one could say he was raised in a certain circle that held onto some twisted values, and there was a time where he was an active member of it. But he redeemed himself and his family name. He is working as a kind of special agent at the ministry now." She gave them the 'muggled' version of the story and was surprised how easy it was to adapt. Juliet started giggling again. "Put it down to binge-watching TV-shows when I'm on night-shift, but he reminds me of Oliver Queen: Handsome, dubious past and catching the bad guys." Freshly dressed and showered, Draco entered the kitchen at the precise moment, and his scent made Hermione wish they were alone, because she wanted to lick and taste him. "Who is Oliver Queen?" the wizard asked, of course not familiar with television.
"The main character of a TV-show, essentially a man who hunts down bad people with the help of his friends and many, many arrows," Eileen explained. Did this man work so much that he didn't even know 'Arrow'? "Does it take place in the medieval times? Because of the arrows, I mean," Draco wanted to know, intrigued by the thought of television-stories. "Nah, it takes place in the 21st century. Arrows are much more elegant than bullets, I suppose. You can make them explode, they are suitable for many distances, you can poison them…" the woman continued, but Draco didn't listen anymore. He dropped the pancake he wanted to help himself to, when something connected in his brain and he locked eyes with Hermione. Not wanting to voice his thought aloud, he grabbed the paper and pen that lay on her counter.
' Potter-attack: Arrow used? Disillusioned ?' he wrote down hastily. He showed the paper to Hermione, whose eyes widened. She nodded, afluttered. "I'm going to investigate on the game field a bit. Perhaps I can find something." Draco wanted to pay the Chudley Cannon's field a visit. "Have you got everything you need?" Hermione threw an inconspicuous glance at his arm, where his wand-holster lay hidden. He nodded and gave her a short, but strong kiss, flicking his tongue against hers once, causing her friends to wolf-whistle. "I'll owl you," he said and left through the door, reminding himself not to step into the fireplace. But he heard Anny asking Hermione in the kitchen "Did he say ' I owe you' ? You naughty girl, what have you done to the poor man?" -
The Cannon's locker room was empty, as all the players were practising on the field. There was a time in his childhood when Draco wanted nothing more than to become a professional Quidditch Player. Although he probably possessed the necessary talent for it, his dream was shadowed by the sinister happenings around him. He still played, but simply for fun with his friends- even Potter and his gang of brother-in-laws. Concentrating on the task at hand, Draco examined the locker room for any evidences that Harry's attack happened in this very place. He had complained about a stiffness in his neck, and an arrow would be an effective device to apply the drug in a victim. Combined with a disillusionment-charm, it would be the perfect crime. Draco raised his wand at the room and ended all eventual charms and spells, casting "Finite Incatatum!" Focusing, the wizard searched the room from top to bottom, his hands gloved, turning every bench, opening every drawer, even removing the shower heads. When he was tempted to accio the evidence, his fingertips touched something pointy in the drain. He carefully removed the grating and unearthed a petite arrow, small as his pinkie and very slim. It was hollow, and a small part of the tip was missing. He pocketed it in a plastic bag, wrote a short description on it, and stored it away in his Auror robes. At the sound of footsteps, he turned around. The practice session was finished, and the male players filed into the locker room to shower and change. Viktor Krum, still in his full gear, spotted Draco first, and the Bulgarian's face fell into a grimace immediately.
"Vat do you vant here, Malfoy?" the Captain snarled, clearly displeased at the sight of the blond. "As you very well know, my family's company owns this team. If I want to be here, I can bloody well do as I wish." Draco decided to play the heir-card rather than to tell the truth, as not to rouse any suspicions. "Vhy don't you move off as vast as you did de last time? Vhen you took my girl vith you. Ve had plans dat evening." Krum stepped closer to Draco, the attention of the other players focused on the two of them now. Draco didn't budge an inch. He had faced many wizards and witches that tried to intimidate him. "I have no doubt that you had plans with her. Didn't you realise that she was as high as a kite?" Draco fought hard not to point his wand at the other wizard's throat. Viktor shrugged his shoulders. "Dis Vodka can do crazy dhings to dat woman. I vould have taken care of her, and she vould have enjoyed vhat I had in mind either vays." Draco knew it was the jealousy pouring out of him when he set his lips into the trademark Malfoy smirk, his eyes cold, and drawled, "Keep your broom in your pants, Krum. I, myself, ensured that Hermione came to rest safe and satisfied ." Turning on his heel, he apparated away. The last thing he saw from the Chudley Cannon's stadium was Viktor Krum slamming his expensive broomstick into the wall.
Rematerializing at the Ministry, Draco took deep breaths to control the ire in him. He knew he was pathetic and possessive, but he wanted Krum to know that he had bedded Hermione Friday night and that he'd better stay away from his witch. The Malfoy heir shared just as little as the lioness. Hermione and Draco agreed to meet at her lab an hour later. Because it was Sunday, the department was void of workers, except for those unlucky ones who needed to catch up with paperwork or were assigned a regular weekend shift. "I already checked it for fingerprints and magical signature,s and it came out negative, so I thought you could help me." He handed her the plastic bag. She put on gloves and took the arrow out of it to examine it under a bright lamp. "I think there was a small injection needle in the shaft that applied the drug into Harry's circulatory system when it came in contact with his skin. Let's see if there's anything helpful left on the tip." She swiped a q-tip over the arrow, put it into a container, and placed it into the terahertz spectroscope. Draco used the opportunity of her working to stand behind her and curled one of her strands around his finger, fascinated when it bounced back again.
Hermione interrupted his doings, and her voice was tinted with reluctance as she spoke. "Draco, what is this thing that developed between us? Are we in a relationship now? Are we a couple? Or more fuck-buddies? Because I'm not Jackie. You can't order me to the Manor for a shag. What are you laughing at, ferret?" The wizard gave her an amused smile. "I might be a spoiled heir and a successful Auror, but not even I am arrogant enough to assume I can order Hermione Granger to do anything!" He turned serious. "I honestly don't know what we have. But I know that the sex we had last night was epic, and I want more of that. Much more. And that I don't want to wake up alone again after falling asleep next to you. I want to take you into public and show you off like diamond cufflinks." In his mind he added, ' And rub it into Krum's face! ' -"What concerns me most, at the moment, is that you could fade into the muggle world again when this case is closed. Because you belong here, and there you have to pretend to be someone you are not, my little witch."
As he talked, he placed a finger under her jaw and tilted it up to him, their gaze locked. Hermione smiled, happy and a bit proud that she was the one the former Slytherin directed these words at. "Well, I guess it is okay that I introduce you as my boyfriend now? And you are going to tell Ginny I'm your personal and exclusive wand-polisher?" A searing kiss was the answer at her cheeky remark, until a beep from the device told them the analysis was finished. Pulling away reluctantly from Draco and looking at the screen, Hermione inhaled sharply. "Holy cow! Speaking of pretending to be someone: along with cocaine, traces of Lacewing flies, fluxweed, knotgrass, leeches, horn of Bicorn and Boomslang-skin could be identified on the tip of the arrow."
"You're thinking the same as me, aren't you?" Draco said, a bit flustered, because the thought of someone pretending they were someone else always unsettled him. "That the person lying in the hospital's bed isn't Harry?" Hermione guessed. "Don't be daft, Malfoy. I always thought Potions was your strongest subject at Hogwarts. Think about it. The potion would have long worn off, even when it was applied to the bloodstream. But take into consideration what the potion would else have to contain." She wanted him to conclude on his own- well, with a little help of the brightest witch of her age. He was always second to her, after all. "It needs a piece of the person you're turning into…" he closed his eyes to concentrate. "There was no hair or anything in the sample you examined? Not even from the time it lay on the floor?" "Nope. Whoever prepared that must have used a dirt-repelling charm on it. Very clean work." Hermione smiled at the wizard, who still had his eyes closed. She happily admitted she was attracted to the intellectual side of him. ' Knowledge is power. And sex. Hell, is he astute! ' her inner slut remarked. Draco spoke quietly, as if weighing every word.
"But the only substance identified except for the Polyjuice ingredients was cocaine. That would indicate the potion was used to turn cocaine into something else, THC presumably, as it was found in the fresh dose of Morgana's Touch we got from Georgie." Hermione was turned on listening to him voicing out loud his train of thoughts. "But I thought Polyjuice works only on humans turning into other humans?" Draco finished, his eyes winding back into orbs of sparkling curiosity. The brunette witch melted inside and nodded to confirm what he said. "Normally, Polyjuice doesn't generate a high or a magical coma. That means someone messed with the recipe, tweaked it a bit. And I'm pretty sure he or she did it on purpose." "I bet Severus is turning in his grave right now. I remember the summer before our sixth year, when things with Voldemort slowly started to get messy. I was over at Blaise's quite often, and one day we brewed a potion we found in the Manor's library before, in one of the more wizard-addressed books. Its purpose was to strengthen a certain part of the male body, motivating it to stand guard longer. The testosterone driven blokes we were, we willingly overdosed some ingredients…"
Hermione couldn't contain her laughter. "Oh no! What happened?" "The potion caused us a raging and persistent hard-on. It was fun at first, but then it wouldn't go away, not even with excessive - and of course separate - wanking. After three days, we were rubbed sore, our hands calloused and our heads aching. When Snape came to visit at the Manor, we asked my brilliant godfather, our beloved Potions Master and Head of House, for help with our not so little problems. As you can imagine, we proud Slytherins nearly died of humiliation." Gasping for air, she managed to sputter, "Merlin, I would have given everything to see Snape's reaction! What did he do?" "He pinched his nose, gave an aggravated sigh and disappeared into our potions lab. One hour later he came back, handed us two vials with a pink liquid and sneered," Draco willed his face and voice into a well-practised impersonation of Severus Snape. "Let this be a lesson to you never to mess with a potion, you narrow-minded fools.' Thankfully, the antidote helped the moment we swallowed it.
But it was his last comment that shaped me until today," he raised one of his eyebrows in the characteristic Snape-fashion. "And get into that bloodless brain of yours: It's not the size of the wand, it's the technique that enchants the witches." Both needed some minutes to recover from laughing so hard. Wiping the tears of laughter from her face, Hermione finally announced, "We should tell Ginny, it's only fair that she's the first to be let in on our clues." -
- They were greeted with a now familiar sight when they entered Harry's room in the hospital: Ginny sitting by his side, holding his hand, pale and tired. She was alone this time; no bouncing toddler around. "Hello Ginny," Draco started, and was immediately interrupted by the redhaired witch. "Have you got some news?" she urged. "We found the weapon he was attacked with in the Cannon's locker room. It was an arrow." Ginny's eyes widened. "There's more. We discovered, an hour ago, that there was Polyjuice on the tip." The witch gasped in horror, throwing her hands to her face, and started to cry. Draco hadn't calculated her reaction and pondered what to do when
Hermione walked to the other woman and closed her arms around her. For her, it was time to overcome the things that separated them for so long and start to be there for each other again. She stroked Ginny's mane, making soothing noises and even rocking her a bit. It helped, and some minutes later, Harry's wife spoke again. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. Hermione didn't know how exactly to react, as she knew Harry and his family had become too foreign to her that she could anticipate their situation. She herself hadn't even thought about having children, and four -even three seemed like an unmanageable number for her. Though, she had helped bringing a baby into this world a couple of times in her time as a doctor and caught a glimpse into what joy -and pain-children could bring their parents. She threw a questioning glance at the Auror next to her. He cleared his throat and tried to give his voice a confident tone,
"Well, I'm sure Harry will be overjoyed when he awakes and hears that the Potter Quidditch team is nearing its completion." Hermione rolled her eyes, 'Wizards or muggles-men never pass up an opportunity to turn something highly emotional into sports. And fail every time.' "You don't understand." Ginny had her eyes fixed on her hands that still clutched Hermione's scrubs. "This wasn't planned. Not at all. Don't get me wrong, we love our three rascals, but they can be quite challenging at times, especially since we both work. We've been very strict with birth control since Lily was born. Except in the night this all happened…" she gestured to the bed where Harry lay. "The very night this baby was conceived. And now you tell me that there's the possibility that this man isn't my Harry? Merlin, I'm going to be sick!" Now, relatives of patients on the verge of a panic attack was something Hermione could handle. She took Ginny's hands in her own. "Ginny. Look at me," she demanded, her voice not giving the other woman another option. Reluctant, blue eyes met browns. "Good. Now breathe. In. And out. And again." Hermione commanded Ginny's breathing rhythm for a minute, before she calmed down.
"Okay, now. You're strong Ginny, you and Harry. You survived a war together. You can handle a fourth child, and it will be loved like his or her siblings." It didn't matter that she handed trivia out, Ginny believed her. "And, of course, the baby is Harry's. My assistant here-," a dismissive hand gesture into Draco's direction, who stood still as if in fear of being doused in oestrogen, "Has yet to learn some bedside manners. We don't believe someone tried to impersonate Harry. But there was Polyjuice found. The most logical explanation we came up with was this one: someone changed the recipe of the potion, tampered with it to the result that cocaine changed into THC. The THC worked in the brain like an opener. The Polyjuice-effect wore off, and the cocaine was back, wreaking havoc with certain brain parts of him and making him insatiable concerning sex. All this to prepare for the finale- a substance in the potion that drained his brain. The same substance we presume is somehow responsible for the high in Morgana's Touch." Ginny listened attentively. "That means Harry is still Harry?" Her eyes were full of hope, and when Hermione nodded, her hands settled down on her still flat stomach.
"Thank you, Hermione." The brunette's heart leapt, and tears threatened to spill over in her eyes. "Thank me when we've found a cure to give Harry's brain a kick-start, he opens his eyes, and kisses you because he's happy to hear your good news, okay?" A smile ghosted over both women's lips when Draco and Hermione left again. Draco didn't dare to make a remark about how emotional even the level-headed Dr. Hermione Granger could be when it came to babies. He was positive she knew to how put his balls to better action than to hex them off, but the rest of him-he liked his nose the position it was in. -
- "Draco? Oh, he isn't here, I see." Jackie balked into Hermione's lab without knocking. That was her first mistake. Hermione turned around, swishing her wand to magically mask her notes of the case as books, which were now labelled with nonsensical names, like 'Here and back again - by Bilbo Baggins', 'Hitchhiker's Guide', or, her favourite, 'Twenty soft spots on D.L.M.'s body by H.G. Slutmeister'. "Neurology. Studious as ever, I see." The blonde scanned Hermione's work for a second. "Have you seen Draco by chance?" "No." ' That was a lie! ' her Gryffindor-conscious yelled. ' Shh, let me do this, yes?' her inner slut had engaged in a cooperation with the alpha-female. "Do you need anything else? I have work to do before I leave for Malfoy Manor." Jackie froze for a second. "Oh, going to the library - of course. Make sure you refresh your deafening spells, because I'm going to surprise Draco tonight and I'm telling you, this man is quite vocal in certain activities ." Hermione seethed inwardly. Not that she was exactly nervous, because she trusted Draco in his intent to be exclusive. Though she wanted the other witch to stay away from him. But to assume that she wasn't firm in any spells - that was her second mistake.
"I doubt that I'll need it. We're doing some research in the library, and he simply knows it best." She tried to be reasonable, though for everyone who knew her, a warning could be heard in her tone. "I've been there several times. But I wouldn't call the things we did there on the desks bookish. I will give him some time to help you, though I doubt Draco will read one book in there. The library can be very scary with those dark magics resonating in it, especially for muggle-borns like you." Jackie laughed haughtily. Assuming the war heroine was scared of books combined with the latter remark marked her third mistake. That was enough. ' Alright, go out and play,' The Gryffindor granted the inner slut/alpha-female in Hermione's head. She got up from her office chair and walked towards Jackie, stopping at an arm's length in front of her. "Listen, Jackie, and listen well. I know it is difficult to understand, especially for a woman like you. One of the first things I learned about Draco Malfoy, was that he is intelligent. And shockingly so. I bet while you were bent over one of the desks in the manor's library, he read Ovid's 'Metamorphoses', you know, one of the ancient transfiguration books that found their way to the muggle literature, in Latin. And still he mastered to satisfy your meek fantasies. But that doesn't matter now. All you need to save in your under-used neocortex is one piece of information: Hands off Draco."
Jackie was shocked into silence. She surely hadn't taken this reaction into consideration when she entered the lab. "Have a nice evening. Perhaps you should spend it with a book." With that, Hermione settled down on her chair again, back to Jackie. She heard the other witch breath heavily, and wrapped her hand around her wand in the case the blonde would attack from behind. But then, ruffling noises indicated that Jackie had retreated to the door. Hermione knew she enjoyed this power-play a bit too much, but-to Hell with being nice! She added, "Oh, just for the sake of completeness,"- insert dramatically pause- "I happen to know from experience how vocal Draco can be in certain activities. My ears are still ringing from our session in the broom cupboard an hour ago." The Gryffindor in her, the inner slut, and the alpha-female toasted towards each other with champagne - or, rather, Cabernet Sauvignon- when Jackie slammed the door close.
After work, Hermione stopped at her home, shortly, changed and flooed to Malfoy Manor. When she brushed off the soot from her clothes, she smiled at the waiting Draco. "You should probably close off the floo-connection and the other entrances," Hermione confessed her dubious behaviour in a rush. "We don't need unwanted visitors tonight, do we? Because I'm not entirely sure Jackie got the hint." Draco looked at her, questioning. "She came into my lab and attacked my personality, and yours- I may have reacted a bit… territorial concerning you. And insulted her intelligence. And was mean in general." "How are you feeling about that?" he asked, pondering if that was one of the incidents where women didn't really want to hear what their respective other thought.
He was new in this business, after all. Her mischievous grin dispelled his concerns rapidly. "Very… Slytherin? Malfoy-ish? I'm not certain how to differentiate between those two." Then, Draco gave one of his private and infectious laughs, and Hermione laughed along with him. "If something reveals that Jackie didn't attend Hogwarts, it is the fact she offended you. Though I have to admit, it took me years to learn that particular lesson!" After a thorough 'greeting' that left them both panting and with swollen lips, they made their way to the dining room for dinner. Again, Hermione wondrously took in all the changes that had occurred in the Manor since the war. But one question wouldn't leave her. "What happened to the drawing room?" She knew there was no need to explain her asking about that particular room. The reaction on Draco's face exposed the pain and sadness he still connected with the terrible and fateful night at the heights of the war. It was Draco's lowest point to stand by the side, helpless, frozen in fear, when Hermione had been tortured in his house.
Of course, there wasn't a friendship, not even respect between the two teenagers when she screamed and writhed under his aunt's insanity. Nonetheless, he always knew Hermione Granger was life; a strong and free will (that drove him crazy, period ) and to see her so bloodied, but never broken, devastated him. Draco decided later that night, after he had been punished by his father for his faults, that he had to redeem himself somehow, and that he wanted to become an Auror. Because he never doubted for a second that Potter and his infuriating number of supporters would win. Drawing himself from his thoughts, he answered her. "First, it was Seamused." Upon Hermione's confused glance, he explained, "I asked Seamus Finnigan for help. He put his unique talents to blow everything up into economic use to found a firm specializing in cleaning rooms, or houses, from dark magic. In our case, he blew the whole room up to its foundations." The witch walking beside him was astonished - not because of Seamus' creativeness, but at the fact Draco had asked someone for help. "Afterwards, we made an indoor-arboretum with exotic plants out of it.
Don't look at me like that. I thought it was the best way to exorcise the darkness and replace it with life-mgnhh." The rest of his sentences was smothered by her hair, as Hermione had thrown herself at him, peppering kisses along his face, finishing at his lips. The pecking changed into fully blown kisses, which grew into a fabulous making out session. Draco pressed Hermione into the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist and his downstairs' appraisal of the situation nestled firmly against her lady bits. Eventaully, he ceased the joyous activities. "Uh, Hermione, we should stop for now. I really, really want to take you right here and now until your eyes cross, but I know you're going to kill me if we don't get some research done." His flustered expression, paired with the conflict of his reasonable words and his unconsciously rocking hips made Hermione break out into giggles. She set placed her feet on the ground and gave him another chaste kiss. "Yes, that sounds definitely like something I'd do… you are forgiven."
"This is so unfair!" were Hermione's first words when the magnificent mahogany doors to the Malfoy library opened by magic. "Alright little witch, you really destroying my intentions to awe you with the grandness of my possessions," Draco intoned ironically. But she was so fascinated by the rows and rows of leather bound tomes that oozed history and the distinctive scent of powerful knowledge that she didn't even get his innuendo. She gestured with her hands, uncoordinated, in all directions. "Noooo, it's… and here….oh, you have… and grew up here…." She paused to collect herself. "Let's put it like this: If I wasn't so captured by your eyes every time you look into mine and rather like the skin-to-skin-contact we have, I'd ask out this piece of Malfoy immediately!" Draco chuckled, walking over to a huge wooden desk, where several books were arranged; he knew, standing in concurrence to a library, was an epic compliment coming out of the woman's mouth.
"Oh, then I'm afraid I'm losing the upper hand, but I already picked some of the most promising books and checked them for unfriendly leftovers -curses, jinxes, pieces of Voldemort's soul. The standard when working here." Hermione's blink was the only indication that she indeed listened to him, as she already sat down and grabbed a book. He snapped his fingers in front of her face, which made her flinch, but her huge eyes focused on him for a second. "What are we looking for exactly?" Draco wanted to know. "Everything on Polyjuice we don't already know: Lost potential on ingredients, options to change the effect, and so on. Please colour-code your notes while reading, yes?" She was lost in the book, whose spine read ' Most Potente Potency Potions', exactly one second later. Reading and colour-code he did (who was he to contradict Hermione Granger in a library?).
They worked themselves into a frenzy for hours, tossed ideas and theories back and forth, interrupted only by the occasional kiss and the tea brought by a house-elf. At some point, they moved from the desk to the sofa by the fireplace. Hermione could never resist the idea to read in front of a roaring fire, and now it was even cosier with handsome company. Well, currently sleeping handsome company. Draco had succumbed to his tiredness half an hour ago, and rested his head on her lap, his platinum bangs falling softly over his eyes. Hermione had learned many things about the man; that his night could consist of three 's' (sleep, sex, sweets), but studying wasn't one of them. Though, when she had to rearrange her legs, because they started to numb, he woke up with a jolt. "Whazzz going un?" he mumbled sleepily. ' Had I been sorted into Slytherin, I'd never been able to resist him,' she thought upon the sight of him. ' Sadly, he's fully clothed.' Her inner slut had been dormant until now after her stage premiere this afternoon. She genuinely wanted to sum up their findings, but it made no sense when he was in this adorable, but mindless, state. They planned to visit Blaise Zabini in the Malfoy's potions branch next morning in order to ask him for his professional opinion. "I should head home, Draco. And you should go to bed."
She gently pulled him up from the sofa. Not coherent enough to form actual words, Draco interlaced their fingers of one hand and led her through the hallways of Malfoy Manor. Hermione fully expected him to guide her to a floo-connection, but instead she found herself in Draco's bedroom. Still not bothering to speak with her, the blond flicked his wand with one eye closed, transfiguring her blouse into a flimsy short nightgown and vanishing the rest of her clothes-including her underwear. "What the heck?" she started, when he applied the same spell on himself, leaving him in pyjama bottoms and her distracted at the sight of him half bare. He enveloped her in his warm embrace, pulling her under the covers with him. Hermione's last thoughts before she drifted off, were ' Patting a hippogriff or saying something nice to a Gryffindor-that was impossible for the Malfoy of the past. Difficult magic performed when more than half asleep or respecting my wishes-that's the Draco I'm falling in love with. Hard. ' Draco Malfoy was hot. Now, there were many, many witches affirming that, but Hermione knew better: He was not only an overly attractive male, he also emitted heat like a small sun. And she bathed deep in the sun's corona when she woke up, because he held her securely against him with his strong arm. She used the other as a comfortable, but a bit hard, pillow. Soon, she started sweating and wanted to free herself from his grip. She wriggled a little, hoping not to wake him with her movements.
He didn't stir, but he didn't let go either. She wriggled again, more decisively-and when her bum brushed against his loins, she noticed, with a smile, that some parts of him were already awake and ready for action. Hermione's inner slut didn't even yawn or ask for a coffee. ' You know where everything is, let's start without him, he can join us later.' But she gave him one last chance to wake up. She tilted her pelvis back towards him, pushing slightly against his hard member, and rubbed herself against him. This made her realise that the heat found another source between her legs. Draco gave a sleepy, but rejoicing sound. He woke up slowly, and Hermione could swear she heard him smile. Now it was his turn to join the game which, when played fair and in blissful ignorance of all rule, both of them could win. He stretched against her, flexing the muscles in his whole body, causing his chest to press into her back. His hands perceived the opportunity to palm around Hermione's breasts. The sudden warmth, even when intercepted by her flimsy white nightgown, made her sigh.
"Good morning, my little witch," Draco mumbled huskily, his nose nuzzling behind her ear. "Morning, Draco," she answered quietly and wanted to turn around, wanted to kiss him properly to greet the day. "Ah-ah. Stay like that." She heard the rustle of fabric and then he threw his right leg over her hip and stilled her effectively, riding up the white cotton that had covered her until then. The cool air that met her skin remembered her that Draco had charmed the underwear from her. Literally. The coiling desire in her veins told her she would have dropped her knickers now at the very latest, as his freed cock snuggled between her cheeks invitingly and he whispered, "Please," as an afterthought. Hermione arched her back, her hand reaching behind her. ' Oh, he's ticklish there. Adorable .' She thought when her fingers lightly touched the skin between his inner hip and-' Found it .' A sinful sigh next to her shoulder accompanied the curling of her fingers around his penis. There was no need to stroke him into readiness, judging by the velvet steel pushing against her hand.
Though, she pumped him twice, teasingly. "When you keep that up, I'm going to sully your perfect little arse with my jizz." Draco wasn't too proud to admit that his voice sounded desperate and wanting. "Ah-ah. Another time." Hermione wanted to be slightly commanding, but she also submitted to her desire and with another slight change of angle and a gentle tug, she had him where she wanted: inside her. The initiate joining made them both moan, and Draco stayed buried deep in her wet heat for a time, not wanting to ruin the moment by the forceful rutting his body willed him to. When he started moving, he hooked his ankle around her leg, lifting hers a bit with his knee and opening her even more for him. He pulled out only a little, never leaving her pussy, only to invade her anew. Every gentle thrust, so he felt, took him deeper into her. Hermione was in heaven. Something about this slow love-making turned her on even more than the excitement of the tryst in the broom cupboard. She interlaced the fingers of their left hands firmly, intensifying their intimate connection even more. After what could have been minutes or decades, when just their low moans and sighs filled the room, Draco's seemingly forgotten fingers bared her breasts and circled around her nipples. An exquisite shudder ran through Hermione as an answer and encouraged her to rock with him.
The atmosphere changed into something more erratic. Draco thrusted faster now, feeling his orgasm nearing rapidly, especially when Hermione slipped her arm around his neck, her fingertips drawing small circles against his scalp. Wanting her to join him in completion, his hand left her breast with a parting tug at her nipple and wandered down, ghosting over her ribs and belly, to find a new home between her nether lips. He cupped her sex shortly, sending a jolt of lust through a moaning Hermione. Then his nimble fingers parted her, the wetness there no surprise for him as he felt it encompassing his cock every time he sunk into her. He moved more frantically now, helpless in the throes of passionate unity. Hermione's ultimate end-of-all-sanity was when Draco stroked her clit with rapid, almost teasing fingers. She surrendered to her release, though she wanted to last this moment between them much longer. A feral moan escaped her lips, and her muscles pulsated around his hard length almost rhythmically.
The first fluttering of her around him send Draco over the edge into white noise. His body still moved, sending his essence onto a hopeful, albeit disappointing journey into her most intimate depth. They stayed embraced afterwards, whispering words of affection to each other. The rapid knocking of an owl's beak brought them back into a world where other people existed. Draco left the bed and gave Hermione a wonderful view of his backside, distracting her for a moment. "Mh?" She intoned when she realised he had spoken to her. "Blaise. He could arrange a meeting with us in two hours." He smiled at her as she stretched on his bed like a cat. "You have milked me of everything I had to give for the moment, and I need to replace my fluids. What about a decent breakfast and a shower?" An enthusiastic "Definitely!" was her answer. -- The headquarters of the Malfoy's family business was as expensive and exclusive as expected, though much more modern than the Manor, meaning: Only about two centuries old. Draco moved around the building as if he owned the place- which he, technically, nearly did-, and strolled into Blaise's office after a single knock.
Zabini got up from his leather office chair and stepped around his massive desk when Draco let Hermione into the middle of the vast room. The dark skinned wizard opened his arms wide and gave the brunette a toothy smile. He was clad in a high-quality black suit like Draco, who had switched his Auror robes for the business attire. Hermione didn't mind. She always had a weakness for Draco in suits; it had her drool for him, even when she had desperately stored these disturbing thoughts away while at school. "Granger!" "Zabini." She greeted back. "The rumours are true then, you are back indeed." He lowered his voice into a stage-whisper, "Blink twice when he kidnapped you!" Draco growled at his friend's childishness, but Blaise wanted to have nothing of it. "Oh, come on, mate. I had to read the letter you sent thrice before I understood that you and the Gryffindor Princess herself, indeed, work together." Hermione scowled. "Gryffindor Princess? I never liked nor applied for that dubious title!" Blaise took her hand in his and pressed a kiss on it. Draco had his palm at the small of her back before he could reflect that Blaise simply followed the antique manners both of them were raised in.
"Why not? It's a perfect description for a lovely witch." The wizard addressed her with a deep view into her eyes. Surprised at Draco's possessive growl that followed, Hermione spoke to Blaise, "Still don't like it. So, tell me, what have you been up to in the past years? Draco told me you established business corporations in Spain for the last weeks?" The man vis-à-vis shaped his voice into something he must have thought seductive."He estado practicando con mi palo. Estoy seguro de que me puedes ayudar dándole de nuevo un toque británico." Hermione rolled her eyes openly, as she often did when people underestimated her, and answered in perfect Spanish, "Debiste haber cogido carcoma si piensas que cambiaría su duro Espino", she pointed to Draco's crotch, "por tu blanda madera." Draco was confused at the exchange, and even more so at Blaise's sharp intake of breath and his witch's open laughter. "What is going on here?"
He demanded to know, and Hermione turned to him, explaining, "Your friend told me he'd been practising with his stick and that he's sure I could help him giving it a 'British touch' again." Draco wanted to strangle him, friend or not. His possessiveness wasn't as angry as with Krum, but nonetheless there. He wanted to bestow Hermione with another tattoo; he could picture 'hic est draconem' on her pubic mound vividly. But that would mean someone came so far to see her pubic mound. He had to think of a better way to show their exclusivity. Diamonds, perhaps? "Before you avada me, Draco, Granger answered that I must have caught a woodworm if I think she'd change your hard hawthorn for my softwood spruce!" Draco laughed hard at that and gave Hermione a soft kiss on her cheek; she blushed quite charmingly at his open display of affection in front of his friend, having expected that Slytherins would be more secretive about this behaviour. Blaise's clap ended her musings. "On with business, then! Draco only wrote that you have a case with a potion that most likely has been messed with." He walked them over to a sitting area, where they lowered themselves on soft white leather sofas, before Hermione answered. "Correct. We've narrowed the list of the possible changed ingredients down to two by intensive research in the Manor's library. Leeches and fluxweed."
Blaise pondered her suggestions for some time, then answered, slowly, "The only potion I know, and of that are many, that involves both ingredients, is Polyjuice. Am I right?" "I'm afraid that's confidential, Blaise. See it as a curious question by an interested doctor," Draco interjected and his friend nodded, conscious of the delicate situation they brought themselves in by consulting him. "The interested doctor-" Hermione continued, "Thinks the leeches are not the first option. To mess with them, someone must have fed them beforehand with the substance in question. But the nervous system of invertebrates, which leeches are systemized into, works differently in focal points from that of the vertebrate, where we humans belong to." "That leaves the fluxweed."
Blaise concluded, his expression thoughtful. "Do you remember, when-" he started, but Draco interrupted him. "-I already thought about that. But we only changed the amount of Dragon's horn and Angel's trumpet. We didn't mess with the fluxweed." "We didn't- but I did." Hermione grew impatient with the wizards' ramblings. "Enlighten me, I don't speak Slytherin." "Ahem." Blaise cleared his throat. "Draco and I once messed with a certain potion before sixth year that had quite heavy side-effects," he confessed. Hermione remembered. "Oh, I know about your blotched erection-ecstasy." Blaise's eyes widened at her admission first in surprise, then in amusement. Draco was sooo smitten by the famous know-it-all. "Well, you see, I thought myself as Snape's successor with a talent at Potion's levelling Salazar Slytherin's. Not that it had any equivalent in the reality. But, nonetheless, I didn't put the usual picked-at-full-moon fluxweed into the potion. I decided to go for some which was picked up at the one night in the year that stands for pure sexuality in a teenage wizard's mind." Before Blaise finished, Hermione knew they had cracked the jackpot. "Beltane."