Hello, my lovelies! I have this Dramione shot from an idea I had a week ago. Started as a drabble then to a whole one-shot.
Contains: Implied pining-Draco, Virgin 'Mione, A Potion's accident, and good ol' smut.
This piece is an AU with no Voldemort but Draco's still a prat.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit but the prompt.
It started with a bang. Quite literally, after Seamus Finnigan and Vincent Crabbe's physical altercation resulted in not one, not two, but three cauldrons being knocked over together with a rainbow of disregarded ingredients, Harry and Hermione's included.
To say that Snape wasn't pleased would be understatement, and had she not been busy checking for repercussions, Hermione would have raised a judging eyebrow, considering he was the one who thought it best to pair the boys for the project in the first place.
Looking around, Hermione sighed in relief. Nothing seemed to set any major alarm bells or a much-needed trip to Madam Pomfrey aside from the currently-spreading, gargantuan mess of green goo under her shoe.
She backed away so as to not soil her new footwear even further, and pulled her own partner along towards the untouched corner of the room whilst Snape busied himself in scolding the irresponsible brutes. Harry's head then turned to her, startled, but his expression quickly shifted to concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Before she could respond, Ron, who was stuck with Lavender for the assignment—and outside of it—appeared, completing their triad.
"Blimey, was that one hell of a blast," he exclaimed, then noting how Harry was now holding both of Hermione's hands in his. "Are you guys okay? 'Mione?"
She gave them both a small smile. "Yes. Didn't want my shoes dirty, is all. Other than that, I think we're safe. No one's grown unwanted appendages so far."
"It was just a simple potion," Ron joked at the reassurance. "Even I was doing better than Neville."
At the mention of their timid friend, Hermione scoured the room once more, though eventually froze as she locked eyes with a glaring Draco Malfoy at the other safe-end for the briefest of moments. It was like his scowl darkened each day—not that she was keeping tabs on him, but it was hard not to notice when she'd been made aware of him staring at her more times than she would've guessed.
He was always watching, even in times where she took it as a challenge and squinted back. Still, his icy stare never once wavered. It was getting creepy.
"'Mione?" Harry's voice snapped her attention away from Malfoy. Her green-eyed companion offered her her bag and she saw that most of the students had already filtered out of the classroom per Snape's orders, Ron and Lavender included.
Not looking back, she followed Harry to the hall, chatting away with the extra free time and privacy they were given, and after a few minutes, worries about the Potion's incident almost completely left her mind when he had said something that halted every bone in her body.
"Hold on," he murmured. It was just two, normal words; and on a normal day, it wouldn't have mattered as much.
However, as Hermione felt herself stop against her will, she grew nervous. What's happening?
"I forgot my textbook," Harry yelped and sprinted from whence hey came. "Go on without me!"
Another order dried her throat. Her legs marched forward despite her wanting to stop, to sit, to do something else. But at that moment, all she could really do was panic and as she watched her limbs stride without her consent.
. . .
After what had occured the day before, and not knowing if her predicament was still present, Hermione cocooned herself in the safety of dark corridors and empty hallways until Madam Pomfrey was ready with an antidote.
From what she gathered, Harry was the only one who could "control" her. In turn, she avoided him entirely for as long as she could, especially in the presence of Ron.
"Hey, Harry," she remembered asking the previous night during their game of Scrabble. "If you knew you could make anyone do what you want, what would it be?"
"Oh, that's a good question, Hermione!" Ron had interrupted insteead of focusing on his turn. "Definitely make good use of it, like have them dance silly in front of McGonagall."
Hermione merely rolled her eyes but paled when Harry laughed in agreement. "Definitely."
"What if it was me, though?" She mumbled meekly, skittish and not liking the way his green eyes twinkled mischievously.
"If it was you, then it would be loads better!" It sounded comforting, until it wasn't. "Just imagine you squawking for McGonagall," he snorted.
She did and she shuddered, then picturing the look of disappointment her Transfiguration professor would most likely possess. Nope.
It could have all been a gag knowing Harry, but, no. There was no way in hell she was going to risk it. And so, here she was—at the very back of the classroom and far, far away from Harry Potter who, surprisingly, picked up on her odd behaviour enough to keep sending her worried glances.
Hermione stopped paying him any mind halfway through when a piece of parchment landed on her desk. 'R u ok?' was scrawled in Harry's messy writing. Bless him for being concerned but it was times like these where she wished he'd obsess over whatever problem Dumbledore had dumped on him.
Sighing, she wrote back: 'Yes, I think I'm just coming up with something. Don't want you affected. Please pay attention to the lesson at hand, it seems complicated.'
His next note, she incinerated without reading and he pouted.
"Moody today, are we, Granger." Hermione all but shrieked and jumped as soon her mind registered who the voice belonged to.
Draco Malfoy was sitting next to her. No, she sat next to Malfoy without even realising it. How could she not have noticed? He was the only one with hair as white as cocaine!
Harry's attention now made sense.
"Sod off, Malfoy," she groaned. "I'm not in the mood."
In true prat fashion, his smirk widened. "And when has your mood ever stopped me?"
Oh, how she yearned to punch him again—hard enough to get rid of that perfectly pointed nose and ruin that perfectly pointed face. Her jaw clenched. Curse him for being easy on the eyes.
"Why'd you choose to sit next to me of all people?" Malfoy asked, breaking her annoyance. It sounded like a genuine question. "You and Potter have a lover's quarrel?" Or not.
"No," Hermione sneered. "And Harry's not my boyfriend."
"No? You two seemed awfully chummy lately, always tied at the hip. Until now, that is."
She began counting in her head as a means to cool down. "My relationship with Harry is none of your business. And for your information, it's only because Ron is nowhere to be found most days."
Malfoy had nothing to say to that. He just stared at her as he always did, only this time he wasn't scowling or holding any malice behind his eyes. It felt weird having him look at her like that; like he didn't hold her background against her.
It reminded her of their first year, when she—
"He can't handle you, anyway," Malfoy muttered into his palm. She blinked.
Did he just give her a compliment? No. This was Malfoy. It had to be another twisted form of insult.
"And what exactly does that mean?" Hermione demanded quietly, unconsciously leaning close to him.
He mirrored her movements swiftly where his face was mere inches away from hers. She could smell pine needles, green apples, and old books. It was all aristocratic and oddly comforting.
"You're a loose fucking canon, Granger," he said. "It would take someone absolutely bonkers to get your level."
She scoffed, "What do you know about 'my level'?"
Malfoy's smirk remained accompanied by pink cheeks. Odd. He only ever did so when embarrassed.
"Enough that I can show you," he drawled, bending closer. His breath was minty and cool.
It was Hermione's turn to blush as she reared in bewilderment. Malfoy was not flirting with her. He was just riling her up. It's all he ever did. But his eyes looked depraved in that lustful overlay she'd seen Ron point at Lavender.
"Class dismissed," Flitwick announced past the ringing in her ears.
Without another word, Malfoy gave her a smug grin on his way out just as Harry and Ron had approached her.
"Was Malfoy bothering you again?" Harry, who she should be distancing herself from, asked.
"Why'd you sit with him, anyway?" Ron added. "There were plenty of open seats."
Hermione said nothing, still reeling from Malfoy's last quip.
"Hermione?" Harry urged. "Aren't you going to get up? We're going to be late for Divination."
Shaking herself to reality, the brunette gaped at her things littering her side of the desk.
"Won-won, let's go!" Lavender called from outside.
Before he obeyed, Ron gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder. "He's always been a right tosser. But you know what, it doesn't matter, 'cause fuck Malfoy."
Hermione's blood ran cold as Harry opened his mouth next. She wasn't fast enough to cover her ears. "Yeah. Fuck Malfoy."
She loved Harry and Ron, she really did. But her feelings directed towards wanting to strangle both of them and discarding the bodies in the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't fair since they had no idea of her current situation, of course. Either way, she craved blood.
Harry needed to take it back. Fast.
"Harry—" Hermione tried.
"Won-won, come on! We have a minute left!" Or she could just kill Lavender.
"Sorry, 'Mione," Ron rushed out with Harry not far from his tail.
"We'll see you there, yeah? I'll cover for you while you fix up!"
"Wait, no—HARRY!" Hermione sprang out of the room to chase him when she saw something from her periphery. A head of cocaine-blonde hair passed by the corridor to her left and she wished she had only imagined it. If not, then Malfoy had the worst timing.
Having her limbs tied to Harry's words and her mind possibly fabricating images, she followed Malfoy's trail. Regrettably, she found that he had, in fact, been real, and was heading to the Come and Go room from where she could observe.
It was strange. He should be in class like the rest of his peers. Then again, it was Malfoy—the same boy who thought himself better than some of his professors and glided throughout the castle like he owned it.
Luckily, the curse didn't seem to have any effects on her speech, giving her the chance to remain silent in her pursuit however she wanted.
As she continued stalking him like prey, her body longed to jump him at every pause he made in different alcoves. Finally, when they reached the entrance to the Room of Requirement, she had barely managed to sneak in through the closing gap in time to catch him changing the scenery.
Hermione could never really get used to witnessing magic in its full glory.
What was once an empty state of architecture became a treasury of relics unknown to her. Paintings, furniture, jewellery and everything in between covered every margin so much so that her eyes had trouble keeping up. There had to be thousands of museum-worthy objects along the pile, especially the portions that glinted as bright as the light reflected in the windows.
But it wasn't the artefacts she was targeting.
Being sure no one else was there to witness her downfall, Hermione felt her resistance snap and she charged, not caring that her school shoes basically gave her away. Dread filled her stomach. This was it.
She saw Malfoy flinch at the sound of her intrusion. With flawless speed, he prepared his wand, turning to face her, then slightly relaxed at the realisation of her identity. That too, did not last.
"Granger, what are you—" He took a startled step backwards just as she raised her hands to pull his face flush against hers. She wished he'd just stunned her right there and then.
He stiffened, probably processing the assault, while she thought about how his lips were cold, yet so soft and minty—his hair even more so. On the contrary, her nerves panicked and screamed. Here she was, making out with Draco Malfoy when a second-long peck on the lips was the farthest point she had gone in her last relationship three years ago.
Hermione waited for him to push her away so she could explain but instead felt him kiss her back harder, guiding her somewhere where the back of her knees hit something that seemed to be made out of silk.
Within seconds of her tripping and being settled down on a plush surface, she held off rolling her eyes. Of course there was a bed that just happened to be nearby.
Malfoy positioned himself above her, his hand gripping the back of her head as if he wanted her closest.
It was intense. Good. But she was running out of breath—sense!—and he wasn't letting go.
"Mal–" Her mind completely fogged and she mewled when he seized the chance to shove his tongue in to caress hers.
Immediate heat travelled to her abdomen as she proceeded to clumsily unbutton his oxford. Malfoy's arm, that previously cradled her head, now rested on the side while the other pulled at the blouse tucked into the rim of her hiked-up skirt. From there Hermione registered how she was practically spread open with him bracketed in her legs.
Her face flushed, her body burned.
Malfoy had her thighs propped up on his, and his cold palm snaked itself into her shirt that now had a few buttons undone from the bottom. His fingers tickled a portion of her stomach right before he squeezed her waist. She gasped into his mouth as a result and he kissed her again once as he began nibbling at her cheek, her jaw, and her neck.
His platinum locks felt like baby feathers on her chin; and she almost gave in, had it not been for the sounds of thread popping. She couldn't see exactly what had happened, but basing from the tugging on her blouse, it was likely Malfoy had ripped her upper attire, presenting a full view of her plain, black bra. That, and the fact that she could feel the cold breeze hit her chest.
"Fuck, Granger," Malfoy groaned. Her blush worsened as she came to.
Malfoy had just ripped her shirt open, ergo: she was naked and sweating in front of him. Well, almost. He pulled away for a moment and she heeded his unkempt state of heavy breaths, discarded costume, loose tie, and ruffled hair, all of which she was responsible for. His pupils were blown wide, barely leaving room for icy-grey rings.
He subsequently threw his house tie somewhere and dove back in to continue marking her exposed skin. Again, she could see nothing of what he was doing with his pale head in the way. Nonetheless, she let herself become familiar with his kisses—under Harry's command or not, she wasn't sure.
Hermione knew she should have spoken then or during his interlude, because he proceeded to grope and suck at her skin until his nimble fingers slithered across her back, unlocking the clips holding the last boundary that shielded him from her nearly-bare torso. Meanwhile, she did nothing but claw and tug at his dress shirt.
This was wrong. It had gone far enough. She had to say something.
Wide-eyed, she watched him hook a finger in between the cups of her bra and slowly lifted it.
"W-wait! Wait!" Hermione swatted his hand and pulled the fabric back on her breasts with her arms crossed, acting as a barrier. Her nervousness was overpowering whatever influence she was under, thankfully.
Malfoy's eyes met hers for the first time since they started. Confused, he tilted his head.
"I-I'm sorry," she confessed, aching inwardly to keep touching him. "I don't know what I'm doing." It was true in more ways than one—much to her chagrin—and a poor choice of words.
Misunderstanding the situation, Malfoy only smirked, and to her shock, placed a light kiss on her forehead. This was not the Slytherin prat she knew. He was supposed to laugh at her, belittle her, not look at her like…like…she was someone worth the world.
Was it not minutes ago that he teased her for being single?
"What do you know about my level?"
"Enough that I can show you."
Holy shite. Malfoy was flirting with her. Malfoy fancied her.
No. A part of her reasoned that the latter wasn't fact—that he just wanted a shag—but her logic argued:If he really did want a 'just a shag' why had he been taking his time? Why not get it over with?
Hermione may be inexperienced but she was not entirely clueless. Countless nights of being subjected to her housemates gossip about their sex life was enough to tell her that Malfoy's behaviour didn't pay for a quick fuck. And now—
Now he was soothing her, snapping her back to her main problem.
"Hey, are you okay?" he said. His voice did it. She took hold of his shirt and like before, pulled him in for a searing kiss that he happily reciprocated.
"Wait, no, stop!" Hermione blurted out hurriedly when his thumb pushed her chin north for him to have more access to her throat. He paused, giving her another look of perplexity.
"Seriously, Granger, are you okay?" He asked, blowing a strand of stray hair away from his eyes.
Still laid beneath him, the pads of her fingers robotically raked the plane of his chest as she cried, "No, I'm not! I'm not in control!"
Seeing her panic, Malfoy pinned her hands to either side. He studied her thoroughly while she calmed herself, and when it looked like she did, his grip loosened only for her to shriek: "Don't let me go!"
Jolted, he pressed her wrists further into the sheets.
"Granger, what the fuck is going on," he demanded. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"No, I'm quite literally not in control of my own actions as we speak," Hermione stated, hands itching to touch him once more.
"What—"
"Remember yesterday's Potion's accident?" she prompted. "I thought it was safe but something must've happened and now I'm stuck being a puppet for Harry whether I like it or not."
"A puppet?" Malfoy's eyebrows knitted.
"Yes! He tells me to do something and I do it."
She could hear the gears turning in his brain. "Wait, so it was Potter who did…this? What the fuck?!"
"No! Well, kind of. But he doesn't know!"
"Make it make sense, Granger." His voice was low and threatening and did something that made her seek a bit of friction from where her thighs trapped his waist. As if that wasn't shameful enough, her traitorous mouth whimpered.
"Sorry," she apologised, noticing his eyes darkening at the act. "I meant that I haven't told him. That's why I sat next to you this afternoon, although I didn't really know you were there because I wasn't paying attention until—"
"Granger," Malfoy interrupted through gritted teeth. "I know, but how did that lead to this?"
Hermione gulped. "Right. Well, Ron was there, and he saw you with me. He figured something must've happened and made…remarks that Harry repeated before I could get out. I tried to tell him so he could take it back but he ran off and–then I saw you."
The blonde's smirk returned. "And, what was the remark?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. He wasn't really going to make her say it, was he?
She jumped at the sensation of something prodding pressed against her cunt. "What did he say, Granger?"
Sucking in a breath, she looked away defiantly.
"Well, that's no fun," Malfoy chuckled and separated himself from her completely. She hated that she missed his warmth.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked. Surely he knew she was going to attack him again.
"Here, drink up." He handed her a small vial filled halfway with a blue liquid and she eyed it sceptically.
"What's that?"
"You weren't the only one affected by the potion," Malfoy said. "You're lucky I brought extra with me in case there was a relapse."
She had never grabbed anything so fast in her life. The solution tasted utterly foul and then she felt something severed inside of her—a connection of sorts. She was elated at having regained control of her own body, but as she turned to Malfoy's tall form, she frowned.
Her throat felt dry and there was an ache that originated not from her hands, but in her belly. Had the antidote made her worse? Did Malfoy trick her?
"It didn't work. Why would—"
"Bullshite, it worked with four other people, Pansy included, so why—" he stopped and smiled deviously.
"What?"
"You still want to fuck me, don't you?" Malfoy slurred, sauntering closer.
Hermione turned beet red and grumbled. "Don't be crude, Malfoy. I don't."
"Crude, me? I'm not the one whose delectable…assets are out in the open." Horrified, she followed his gaze reluctantly to her chest, half-obscured by the shirt he'd ripped not too long ago, her bra nowhere to be seen. Drat. "And if it didn't work, why aren't you being grabby?"
"I…" She did not want to shag Draco Malfoy. She did not want to shag Draco Malfoy, and she most definitely did not fancy him and his stupid bleached hair since First Year.
"You…?" He was so close and she was so vulnerable.
"Do you even like me?" The spontaneity of her question caught them both off guard. What was she doing?
"Do I—what?" The mirth in his expression moulded into agitation. He straightened away from her and it hurt. Of course, he didn't. It's all just teasing for him, and she knew as much that that was not a nice way to lose one's chastity.
"I—Nevermind." Letting one hand secure her modesty, she hoped she looked as nonchalant as she put on. She'd already embarrassed herself enough. "Just help me look for my things and I'll get out of your—"
Not a second after she turned to search for her missing undergarment, she felt him twist her face by the jaw as he claimed her mouth. It was gentle and sweet, if she were to be honest, opposite to her earlier demands.
She didn't keep count of how long they stayed that way, but when they separated with a slight pop, Malfoy rested his forehead against her own.
"You have no idea what you do to me, Granger," he huffed longingly. What did that mean?
Hermione disconnected herself with a sniffle. She was still deflated from the possibility of rejection as she kept her eyes fixated on their laced hands. "Is this real?" Her voice cracked. "Maybe the accident put me in a coma and I'm just dreaming all of this."
Malfoy kissed her again, and again. "I like you more than you know, Granger. For longer than you know."
Her hand reached to cup his cheek.
"Then why are you so cruel?" she whispered, watching his eyes be filled with regret.
"I…I'm sorry," Malfoy wiped her tears and kissed her crown. "For everything I've done and will do to hurt you. I was so stupid and so fucking—"
She sealed his lips with her own, dragging him down with her as she let herself collapse on the bed. Malfoy was trapped between her legs again and he groaned in pleasure. The need to have him was greater than ever but at least she had her will.
She pulled her to him the way she wanted. She kissed him the way she wanted. And her hands skimmed along his back freely.
"I'm trying to apologise here, witch," Malfoy sighed roughly, biting the shell of her ear.
"Later." Her response came off frenzied. She worked through the buttons of his uniform, feeling liquid heat drip and soak her underwear as well as the hard bulge that pressed against it. She was getting hotter by the second.
"Fuck," Malfoy cursed into her curls. "Granger, I don't think this is a good idea."
Hermione hummed and languidly pressed tiny kisses along his neck to his shoulder. "Do you not want to?"
"I just—" He shifted to distance himself only to have his cock brush further into her. "Fuck! I do. I do. I just don't want to mess this up."
She pushed him softly to hover above her so she could look at his face. Red stained his cheeks. Maybe even worse than hers.
"Malfoy…"
"It's your first," he explained. "It shouldn't be in some cruddy, old bed in a dusty, old room."
He made sense. Hermione considered her options and bit her lip in the process. "What if I want it to?"
For some reason the bed didn't even cross her wits as the thought of being fucked by Draco Malfoy for the first time surrounded by a treasury of ancient books, gold, silver and other precious minerals seemed to outweigh everything else.
"Granger—"
"We don't have to, if you don't want—I just…I want to. With you. Now." Hermione's fingers nervously played on his nape and Malfoy ran a deciding hand on his face.
"Are you sure? I really want to make it special for you but if this does it, then I can't argue."
"Yes," she said timidly, and remembering gossip on what men liked, she added, "Please."
Malfoy's pupils dilated as he huffed heavily, removing his dress shirt in record speed before he bent down to recapture her lips. His skin was so smooth and white, like alabaster. Unfortunately for him, she ruined it with red lines as her nails raked along his shoulder blades as soon as he bit down unto her clavicle.
She helped him discard her blouse and her arms moved accordingly to cover her breast. Denying, Malfoy had briskly gathered her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. Her heart was pounding fast and the warmth on her face flowed to her chest.
Hermione avoided his stare which felt to have been longer than a minute. Was he having second thoughts? She knew she wasn't pretty but–
"You're a fucking goddess, Granger," Malfoy commented, and the way he said it, Hermione held her tears. She was not. She was just…normal. There was a reason no one had really called her beautiful in her whole seven years at Hogwarts except for Harry, Ginny, and—once upon a time—Krum. She was no Fleur or Daphne or Lavender.
Was one supposed to exaggerate compliments during sex?
"I can hear you thinking, love. Pause that for me for a bit." He was right. She didn't notice his breath was now on her sternum, going left, left, left.
She moaned aloud as his tongue, wet and hot, dragged along her hardened nipple. She jerked upwards on the bed when he sucked, halted by his hands clutching her waist.
"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Stay still."
Her core throbbed. She fisted a lump of the linens beside her head while he resumed his feast on one boob and groped the other, twisting and squeezing. He sent her to a realm of pleasure she didn't know existed as her legs tightened and twitched around his hips.
"So beautiful," Malfoy muttered, thrusting once.
He moved up to meet her tongue and her arms hugged his neck like a vice, scratching the soft baby hairs on the back of his head.
She gasped and mewled into his mouth in surprise when two of his fingers stroked teasingly over her underwear.
"Shite, you're soaked already." Malfoy stopped kissing her to look down where his hand hid behind the folds of her skirt.
"Is—Is that a bad thing?" Hermione asked, growing concerned. She was clueless about what 'soaked' entailed. Most of what she got from the girls were complaints about the boys 'finishing too fast' or 'receiving but not giving'. Or perhaps she had heard about it at some point and forgot.
"No!" Malfoy denied all too abruptly. "No. Sorry. It means you like what I'm doing."
"Oh."
"And it'll make things a bit easier for the both of us," he said. "But first, I need your pretty head to stop working and just…feel."
She did feel. She mourned the loss of his erection weighing on her but felt him shift her knickers to the side and squeaked when something—one of his fingers, surely—entered her.
Hermione gasped, in and out, mimicking his movements. She clung to him for dead life as he added a second, and a third. His minty scent invaded her nostrils, then a coil appeared in her abdomen right where she had initially felt molten heat.
It was difficult to think. She could hardly speak, babbling syllables from incoherent sentences, emitting noises she didn't know she was capable of. She was climbing a dangerous ladder for all she knew.
Her back arched and she choked on a scream when he had grazed a spot inside of her that had her seeing stars. Again and again.
Malfoy wasn't letting her close her legs either as he eagerly latched onto one of her breasts. Her grasps returned to the sheets and her head flew back with a lewd moan.
"M-Malfoy, I—" The weird knot in her stomach expanded, ready to pop at any second.
"Let go, love. I got you."
Let go? What did he—Hermione was given no time to think about it because she exploded. It was not merciful in the slightest for she turned putty after an intense minute. Malfoy kept his eyes on her, fingers stuck thrusting through her clenching walls as he hissed.
When she went limp, he pulled them out to stick in his mouth.
What the fuck? Is that normal? Hermione wondered. Why did he do that?
Consecutively, Malfoy kneeled off of the mattress, vanished her underwear together with her shoes, and pulled her arse to the edge by her hips. Still a daze, she observed him set his face amidst the apex of her thighs, getting closer to her cunt.
She gasped in comprehension. "Wh—"
"Sush, Granger." The words vibrated along her folds. Half of his face was obscured by her skirt. "I am going to make you feel so good."
Hermione screamed as his wandering tongue traced her slit. Her heels stabbed his back and her lap cushioned his head. She endured his relentless ministrations with a bundle of strange noises, raising her pelvis aptly which increased her pleasure.
"Draco!" She had yelped in the moment and his fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs. His tongue circled on a part of her pussy that had her yelling his name even louder as she fell a second time.
"That good, Granger?" Through whiny exhales, she could make out his pompous smile on her skin. He planted a kiss on her clit before standing over her wrecked form.
Black spots danced across her blurred vision and she felt the bed dip. In her wake, she found Malfoy perched on top of her. Her eyes needn't wander to know he was completely nude.
"Need a moment?" He asked.
Hermione said nothing and gathered him in her arms, kissing his high cheekbone. "Just…Just do it."
"Are you–"
"Draco. Please," she begged, voice cracking.
Malfoy inhaled sharply and she felt the head of his cock trail up and down her folds. It was his turn to moan. "This is going to hurt for a bit."
Yeah, no shit, it was objectively bigger than his fingers. And why was she still wearing her skirt and stockings?
"Does your cat know where you are?"
Hermione was confused. "What—ah!"
He was inside of her in a second. He wasn't slow either, ramming up to where something broke. It stung, of course, but not as bad as she expected. Still, it was enough to make tears leak.
Malfoy became a statue after that. Aside from his heaving chest, he was frozen solid.
"It's worse if I go slow. Figured to best get it over with," he groaned. "I'm sorry."
She merely nodded, surprised at how fast the pain had subsided while she accommodated his size, until her mind screamed for him to move. She needed him to move.
"Y-you can—Um." She hugged him like a vice, pressing her forehead against his shoulder and swirling her hips.
Complying, he gave an experimental stroke that made him go deeper.
"Fuck, Hermione." The way he said her name tingled her spine and he slumped onto her, compressing her chest on his. "You feel fucking devine, love."
"Oh, god!" Hermione wailed. The feeling was overwhelming. His thrusts grew harder, faster, burying him farther and farther within. She was curious at how deep he could reach exactly.
As if reading her mind, Malfoy looped his arm under one knee, lifting her leg. Not only did he strike a familiar spot, he had also gone deep enough to have her begin sobbing. The red marks on his back started to bleed by how much she clawed.
"Draco—Draco!" She cried hoarsely in sync with his grunts. Her walls fluttered around him, tightening on each plunge.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't—" Malfoy stuttered, his hand rushing to play with her nipple.
It was the last straw for Hermione. Her body spasmed, eyes rolling back as she let out the loudest moan she could muster. Her lover's rhythm got messy and his groans came out choppy. There was something hot inside her that she was sure wasn't there before but her focus stayed on their embrace.
Malfoy had collapsed onto her, gasping for air. Hermione ran a tired, shaky hand through the soft baby hairs on his nuchal line, equally breathless. Their hearts thumped in tandem as they relaxed under steamy silence.
She was absolutely drained.
"Malfoy?" Hermione asked after what seemed like an hour.
He drew his head back, elbows bracketing her on her spot. "Oh, so we're back to 'Malfoy', huh?"
"Oh, shut up." She playfully slapped the amused grin off his lips. He took the same hand to kiss.
"Alright, Granger. What is it?"
She might've thought wrong, but he appeared rather nervous.
"This," she hesitated. "This—What are we going to do after this?"
Malfoy's expression softened. "That's up to you, love."
It was the first time she caught the nickname. How many times has he called her that?
"You keep calling me that, why?"
He raised a brow. "Do you not like it?"
Hermione paused. "No, I do. It's just strange since we're not really…Y'know…"
"And, what if I'd like to?"
"You mean—" She gaped.
"Be bonkers enough to court Hermione Granger? Why not?" Malfoy chuckled. She keeps witnessing sides of him no one has ever seen. "But is that something you want?"
"I…Yes." Her admission made her feel more vulnerable than being stark naked.
Malfoy beamed and his shaft twitched. "Shite, sorry."
"It's cute how their dicks soften after a good romp." She recalled Romilda Vane boasting two weeks ago.
A million questions shot at her conscience as he pulled out. Holy shite, that was inside of her?
"Did you not—" She winced on her way to sit upright, wrapping the wrinkled sheet over her. Unlike Malfoy, she was still getting used to exposure.
"I did! I did," he protested. "I just…I'm a teenage bloke with fucked up hormones and all, and you—Yeah."
Not wanting to embarrass him further, she offered, "We can…do it again."
She was sore, but figured another round could fix it. Malfoy looked a mix of tempted and horrified.
"Granger, if we go again you literally wouldn't be able to walk out of this room. You'd be too sore. Plus, I don't want to hurt you."
"Oh." Hermione peered at him expectantly. "Tomorrow, then?"
Malfoy stared, then laughed. "Whatever you want, love."
Hope y'all enjoyed that! You can check out the art in Reddit at u/Swotdoodler or my tumblr: swottydoodler👍👍
