55.

Lunch went well. Hermione recovered quickly from her shock, and it was great to see Neville and Hannah again; it had been much too long, but they were all all busy with life, or too exhausted to socialise when they weren't, it seemed. All except Ginny, who seemed to have boundless energy. Afterwards, Hermione, Neville, and Hannah stayed until it was nearly dinnertime at Harry and Ginny's insistence, all five of them happily chatting and laughing, reminiscing over old times. It was lovely, and between them, they decided to try to organise a Dumbledore's Army catch-up in the New Year, with everyone who had survived the war. It must have been years since they'd all been in the same place at the same time.

She saw too little of Malfoy that weekend however – he texted her while she was still at Harry's, putting a slight dent in her mood.

[Tori's father helpfully let mine know that I'm seeking a divorce. I'm going to be stuck at the Manor tonight and tomorrow, I'm afraid. Damage control. I've owled Scorpius to let him know I won't be able to take him into Hogsmeade tomorrow. Wish me luck.]

Shit, I'm sorry. Good luck! she'd replied, inwardly cursing the terrible timing. She realised that she'd been looking forward to getting home and having him come over, so that she could ask about his day, and then talk over hers with him. She wanted to tell him how Ron actively wanting the divorce made her feel unexpectedly weird. How Chastity's pregnancy gave her the oddest sense of envy – well, maybe she wouldn't mention that. How she was so glad to be untangling from Ron because she wanted to be with Malfoy without any complications, and yet she felt sad at the ending of it. He'd understand, she knew.

[I love you] he'd answered, and she'd replied, you too, and then she hadn't talked to him again that weekend, not even by text.

Instead she'd cancelled Hogsmeade with Rose – the girl didn't want to go without Scorpius – and had gone out on Sunday instead, Christmas shopping in Muggle London, although she'd already bought the children's main presents. A new broomstick each, an eye-shadow palette, mascara, and lip gloss from Kylie Cosmetics for Rose, and two Nintendo Switch games Hugo had wanted, along with an assortment of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products. But she found assorted presents for the rest of the family, and bought cards for friends.

Being out unaccompanied had been slightly nerve-racking, but enjoyable. Hermione had stopped by Selfridges and window shopped her way through, unable to bring herself to buy anything; it was all so expensive. She still hadn't found anything for Malfoy though, and feared she was going to end up having to resort to something like a tie, or chocolates, which would make her feel terrible.

Then, tired and footsore, and missing Malfoy, she went to her father's for dinner and 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, before emailing a real estate agent, and then having a restless night's sleep, alone in her bed.

Come Monday morning Malfoy was nowhere to be seen at the Ministry, and Hermione ended up breaking mid-morning and asking Mariska if she knew whether he was in. It seemed marginally more discretion than turning up at his office. The answer when Mariska came back from her morning tea with the secretarial pool was no; Mr Malfoy hadn't been at work today. For a few minutes Hermione had wondered – not quite seriously – if Lucius had taken him prisoner until he agreed to behave like a proper Malfoy should.

She went to a Muggle pub nearby for lunch, specifically so that she had phone reception. The entire lift ride up to the phone box entrance, she clutched her phone in her hand and stared at it hopefully. The lift dinged to a halt on the street, and her phone buzzed. A text from her cousin – and two texts from Malfoy, and Hermione's heart leaped. She walked out onto the street blindly, standing in the drizzly, grey cold up against a building and unlocking her phone, hunching over it to keep the misting rain off the screen.

[Morning, Granger. I won't be at work today. I'm in Spain.]

[Sorry.]

She wasn't sure why he felt the need to apologise. While he'd begun stopping by her office nearly every day since her return to work, they had no fixed arrangement, except for their Tuesday and Thursday lunches. But it was sweet that he'd apologised. She texted her cousin back quickly, her mind only half on what she was saying. Spain? She could only assume Malfoy had dealt with his parents over the weekend, and had moved on to his in-laws, or so she hoped. It was either that or he'd been browbeaten into taking Astoria back, which Hermione found highly doubtful. She made herself walk to the pub before she replied; she couldn't stand freezing and increasingly damp on the footpath, while the skies threatened to open up properly any minute.

He answered within five minutes, a remarkable promptness, and she sat there eating her pie by the window as raindrops pelted the footpaths in earnest, wondering whether he was texting her right in the middle of a conversation with the Greengrasses, or ducking out to do so privately in the corridor, or toilet. It was an odd thought. She was rather pleased she merited such immediate attention, smiling to herself as she ate her lunch. It seemed he was in Spain negotiating with Astoria's father as Hermione had suspected, while Astoria herself refused to speak to him at all.

[I should be back by early evening if Tori and Daphne don't murder me.]

Do you want to come over after work? I have news. Nothing major.

She wanted to tell him about her weekend. About the divorce papers. About Ron and Chastity.

[Yes, please. I'll floo over to yours at 6 pm.]

It's okay if you can't make it.

[I'll be there. I promise. Hopefully, with a divorce negotiated. Although with the way Tori's behaving, I'm not holding my breath.]

Good luck. I'll see you then.

Hermione hated Astoria, just a little. She wouldn't say so to Malfoy because there wouldn't be any point in it, but she did. Wholly irrationally, and pointlessly. Now that she and Ron were poised to be officially divorced – potentially as soon as tomorrow – she wanted Malfoy to be free of Astoria as soon as possible. What had been irksome previously, now seemed unspeakably urgent. She wanted him divorced, immediately. This new feeling of urgency was entirely because of her own change in circumstances, she knew, so it wouldn't be fair to mention to Malfoy, but Merlin, she crossed her fingers and toes, and hoped desperately that he'd be able to talk Astoria into a settlement today.

If he did, they could both be officially divorced by Wednesday morning. The idea was bizarre; Hermione didn't quite know what to think of it, as she finished her lunch and hurried back to the Ministry, coat wrapped around her snugly while the rain kept falling.

The ink on her signature had barely dried when Hermione rolled up the parchment and sealed it with a blob of wax before tying a string around it, a sense of finality running through her. She stood and took it out to Mariska, heels clicking on the floor. "Can you send this off to 12 Grimmauld Place by owl, before you head off?"

"Of course, Ms Granger-Weasley," Mariska said, taking the scroll and digging out a postal tube to slide it inside, and Hermione bit her lip.

"Just Ms Granger now, actually, Mariska," she said awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of her brown shirt dress, and her secretary looked at her, surprised.

"Is this –?"

"My divorce papers, yes," she admitted, not really worried Mariska was going to blab, and not bothered if she did. Besides Hermione had spoken to Higgins that morning, and secured her secretary a small raise, which she honestly deserved. "Ron agreed to sign them. So I'm eager to get them sent off."

She hadn't officially changed her name back to Granger on all her documents, but it was still legally her name, to use as she wished. She didn't have any I.D. to change in the wizarding world, save her Ministry employee card, but she'd have to go through and change all her Muggle documentation. Her driver's licence, her bank account, and Merlin knew what else. She sighed inwardly, dreading the admin. And they'd have to get a Muggle divorce as well, a much longer process. But as far as the wizarding world was concerned, as soon as Ron signed the papers and sent them off to the address she'd written down for him, they would be divorced. Probably by the end of the business day tomorrow.

God, it felt good now that she was actually doing it.

"Congratulations, Ms Granger-We– Oh Merlin. I mean, Ms Granger."

"Just call me Hermione, Mariska. I've told you before." Her secretary was oddly old-fashioned in some ways. Made up to the nines, a gossip, and glued to her magazines, but formal with her classic wizarding manners. But Mariska smiled, and finally relented.

"Fine," her secretary agreed, defeated at long last. "Congratulations, Hermione, then."

"Thank you, Mariska." She smiled at the younger witch before she ducked back into her office and grabbed her coat and handbag, ready to take off work. It was coming up on a quarter past five and Hermione wanted time to have a shower before Malfoy's arrival, so for once in her life, she was leaving work early. She tugged her coat on and farewelled Mariska with a smile, taking the lift out of the Ministry, and disapparating home.

It was raining in Wandsworth as the skies darkened, night closing in. Hermione sat on the couch in pyjama trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt, freshly washed hair dried and tamed with Sleekeazy's, and a glass of wine in hand. The TV played BBC news in the background, and she found her eyes kept flicking to the floo as 6 pm grew closer. Part of her was wondering if he was actually going to turn up, or if so, on time. She kept remembering Ron's disastrous visit from Turkey. First he hadn't taken time zones into account, and then he'd been late anyway, getting caught up drinking.

It was unfair to put Ron's failings onto Malfoy and worry about that, and yet here she was. Sitting, sipping at her wine, and undeniably worried that Malfoy was going to text her at 6.30 and tell her he couldn't make it. That he was going to flake on her, just like bloody Ron. When 6 pm rolled around, Hermione gnawed on her lip, and resisted the urge to either pace, or pour herself another glass of wine. Or neck the bottle. She had been hoping he'd be early, and put her out of her misery. She turned up the news and watched it glumly, knees up, wine nearly gone. The news was just more depressing; the Muggle world was a terrible place.

And then at 6.08 pm, the floo flared up green and Hermione nearly had a heart attack as Malfoy appeared, faintly dishevelled, in a cloud of smoke. He waved his wand and all the smoke coiled and zipped up the chimney, and then he was left standing there in a grey and black Edwardian suit, running his hand through his hair to smooth it, and smiling at Hermione. He looked tired, shadows beneath his eyes and weariness in the lines of his face, but he didn't look unhappy. She wondered if that meant he'd managed to arrange the divorce, hope leaping in her chest. He was wearing the snitch tie she noted as she uncurled her legs, a swirl of fondness rising in her. It was obviously his favourite.

"Granger. Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine," she said dismissively, as if she hadn't just been sitting there in a state and counting the minutes obsessively, an immediate relief and happiness obliterating her worry. She stood, and with wine glass in hand padded across the room to him, going up on tiptoes to kiss him as he bent his head to her. His mouth was warm, and his hand splayed over her back, his kiss rather demanding as his lips parted, and his tongue traced the seam of hers. She opened her mouth to him, and he licked into it, sending a cramping bolt of desire slamming through her, and then he pulled back, his pupils flaring and his mouth quirking with satisfaction.

"You taste like wine."

"Mm," Hermione agreed, feeling slightly dizzy, unprepared for his kiss and the intensity of her desire. "Do you want a glass?"

"Yes please." He followed her through to the kitchen, leaving his shoes by the end table by the stairs, and unbuttoning his frock-coat and waistcoat, shrugging them both off and laying them over one of the chairs at the breakfast bar. Hermione kept half an eye on him as she pulled the open Sauvignon Blanc out of the fridge and poured him a glass, topping up her own slightly. She enjoyed this part of Malfoy coming over, usually after work. This slow shedding of his layers. It was like a removal of all his defences, as he unbuttoned and removed everything down to his white shirt, tugging his tie loose and pulling it off over his head. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone next, before he removed his cuff-links and dropped them in his coat pocket, and folded back his sleeves.

And then he was in nothing but shirt, trousers, and socks, his forearms bared – the faded Dark Mark visible on his left – accepting his wine with a quiet thanks. He looked beautifully undone and vulnerable. And tired.

"Sitting room?"

He nodded and followed her and they settled on the couch; he slouched back with his feet up on the coffee table, and Hermione sitting back against the end with her feet in his lap. She wriggled her toes against the inside of his thigh and he folded his free hand over them, playing with them absently.

"So, how did Spain go? I see you made it back alive, and seemingly unharmed?"

He gave a tired laugh. "For a while there I thought the unharmed part was in peril. Tori threw a vase of flowers at me, followed by a teapot, and then a bust of her great-great-grandfather." He shot Hermione a wry grin, and she covered her mouth to hide the giggle that burst out of her, feeling bad for laughing.

"What? A full-size bust?" He nodded. Hermione boggled, imagining it. "With magic, or…?"

"With her bare hands," he confirmed, still with that tired, rueful grin, rubbing at his jaw. "I dodged. My quick Seeker reflexes," he said dryly. "The bust went everywhere. Nothing a quick reparo couldn't fix, but her father was furious anyway. They got into a shouting match with each other instead of me, which was a nice change, and then she went storming off, furious."

"So you didn't manage to, um…" It felt oddly awkward asking if he'd managed to secure a divorce. Gauche. But he knew what she meant.

"Oh no. I did." He grinned widely, and Hermione's heart leaped in her chest.

"Oh my God, what?" She clattered her wine glass sharply down on the coffee table, a disbelieving joy searing through her.

"We both signed the papers, and I owled them off to the Ministry before I flooed over here," he said with that beautiful, carefree, grin. "I've been freed of 50,000 Galleons, the holiday cottage in Italy, and one wife."

"Oh my God," Hermione said and scrambled up and onto her knees against him, her arms around him in an uncoordinated embrace, all excitement and glee.

"My wine!" he laughed, as she climbed half onto his lap and clutched his face in her hands, kissing his jaw, cheek, eyebrow, and mouth. A rain of thrilled kisses. She felt a wet splash on her leg and snickered, pulling back and seeing his wine sloshing in his glass and a large splotch on her pyjama trousers. She took his glass and stretched back, sliding it onto the coffee table and turning back to him, straddling him properly and fiddling with his shirt buttons.

"Guess what my news is?"

"What?" he asked obediently.

"This weekend when I was at Harry and Ginny's for lunch, Ron asked me to get the divorce papers sorted. Chastity's pregnant –" Malfoy raised a brow "– and he wants to marry her quickly, before her parents murder him, I presume. I signed the papers today, and owled them off to Ron to sign. Once he's sent them off to the Ministry, I'll be divorced as well."

"What about Rose and Hugo? And Christmas?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione loved him all the more for thinking of them.

"Well, we'll have to tell them about the divorce, but at this point we're still doing Christmas at the Burrow." Hermione couldn't stop smiling. Free. They were both free, or close enough to it as made no difference. "Since…Usbourne," she said with difficulty, memories spinning through her head, culminating in Ciaran's dead eyes and his slack hand in hers. She stopped smiling, lost for a moment in cold, bloodied memory. The touch of warm fingers sliding along her chin and jaw woke her from it. Malfoy had one hand pressed to her cheek, his eyes the grey of rain-heavy clouds, and worried.

"You with me, Granger?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Memories." She tried to make light of it with a flippant tone and a little shrug, undoing his third button, and then playing with his fourth, eyes dropping to watch what her hands were doing. She did love his chest. "Where was I?"

"You were saying something about Weasley, since your…abduction," Malfoy said very carefully, tucking a wave of hair behind her ear before his hands moved to her waist, holding her firmly.

"Oh. Yes. Since then, Ron seems to have pulled his head in. Thank Merlin. I think it made him reassess his priorities." She huffed. "All it took for him to stop being quite such a selfish git was me nearly dying." Although that wasn't quite true – Hermione didn't think Ron's total change of heart was quite so altruistic. She popped Malfoy's fourth button undone, the backs of her fingers smoothing over his chest; pale and dusted with a little dark blond hair, a faint silver scar visible slashing across it. Lovely. "I think things getting serious with Chastity has something to do with it too, honestly."

"You said she's pregnant?" His hands smoothed up and down her sides, finding their way under her t-shirt, and rubbing soft over her skin, thumbs brushing up along the undersides of her breasts at the peak of the motion. Hermione remembered his and Astoria's difficulties and losses, and bit the inside of her cheek, nodding. She wondered if he was sensitive to talk of pregnancy, but she could hardly ask him that.

"Yeah," she said, as Malfoy's hands encircled her waist, surprisingly broad and spanning more of her than she would've expected. "He always did want plenty of children. I suppose now he can have that with Chastity, if she's amenable. A whole gaggle of offspring," she added dismissively and he nodded, absorbing it. His eyes were like stones for a moment, unreadable and blank, until he smiled at her slowly and sweetly.

"And so we're both divorced, as of tomorrow?"

"Well, let's not count our diricawls before they hatch. It is Ron, after all. He may well not owl off the papers immediately." She frowned even as Malfoy began kissing along her jaw, she leaning into it with an automatic eagerness. "Actually, I'll text him tomorrow morning and remind him to do that."

"Good idea," he mumbled against her skin, kissing the point of her chin, and then pulling back to look at her. "This has worked out very serendipitously, hasn't it?

"Mm. We're both suddenly single at the same time," Hermione observed, her thumbs sweeping along his cheekbones, and his eyes narrowed, dark blond lashes casting swooping shadows by the lamplight.

"I'd better rectify that, before someone else snatches you up, Granger," he said in a low voice, and she grinned.

"I don't think you have to worry about that."

"Oh, but I do." He eyed her seriously, hands stilling on her waist. "Granger, I would very much like to exclusively court you," he said, very formally, like a Victorian gentleman, and Hermione snickered and tipped forward to bury her face in the crook of his neck, blushing for some reason she couldn't decipher.

"Yes," she said, muffled against his skin, his pulse beneath her lips, her cheeks hot. "Yes please. Court away."

"There. Now you're off the market again," Malfoy said with satisfaction, and then cradled her face in his hands, drawing her back from him and kissing her. "We should celebrate." He lifted his hips meaningfully, and Hermione bit her lip as she felt the hard length of his erection pressing against her pelvis. Oh.

"We should," she agreed, grinning, and sank her mouth back to his and they kissed for a long minute, tasting wine on each other's tongues.

There was a heady joy fizzing through her, like champagne bubbles in her blood, and it quickly transmuted into arousal. A hot alchemy, her skin prickling and sensitive as Malfoy kissed his way hungry and ravishing down over her jaw and her throat. Her hands in his hair and her head tipped back, chin upthrust as tingles thrilled from her jaw to her core and tumbled down her spine. Hot and cold, tickling and titillating, and Hermione squirmed and moaned as he suckled at the sensitive crook of her neck and nipped below her ear. Her fingers curled in his short locks by the fistful, and his fingers curled over her breasts, cupping them firm, her back arched and her face turned to the ceiling.

And then he was kissing down to her collarbones to find her shirt in the way and he growled and pulled it up. She tried to help, her arms getting stuck in her sleeves, making quiet, snorting laughs as he finally got her free. Panting and grinning, her hair a wild cloud now, the air cold on her breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said, dragging his thumb over her lips and then dropping his gaze and hand, and sweeping his fingers around her left nipple, hand covering her breast. "Beautiful and all mine." He shot her a triumphant look. "Officially."

"That goes both ways," she said breathlessly and gripped his cock through his trousers and he nodded, biting his lip as she squeezed a little.

"Oh, I'm all yours, Granger," he said, slightly hoarse, both his hands sliding over her. Pleasure spiked sweet and sharp as he pinched her nipples and tugged a little, and she made a small "ah" that had him smirking, his eyes gleaming. He lifted the weight of her breasts, soft but still full, and then without warning he buried his face against her left breast. His mouth latched hot over her nipple and sucked with a growling hum, and it sent a shocking, shooting bolt of arousal down to her core.

"Oh – mmph –" she moaned, a half-surprised noise, her nipples hypersensitive as he swirled the flat of his tongue over the hard bud, and then sucked as much of her breast into his mouth as would fit. Her fingers twitched in his hair, her mouth opening wide. The sensation was exquisite and verging on painful, a hot, wet, sweet pressure that sent pulses of pleasure through her vulva, her clit throbbing. He let go with a pop and she gave a sobbing gasp, looking down at her breast, the skin all around her areola flushed pink and shining with his saliva.

"Jesus Christ," she said, and then let out a throaty groan as Malfoy moved his mouth to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Sucking, and kissing, and pinching, demanding and intent, making pleasure a torrent surging through her, overwhelming and hard. When he was finally finished with Hermione's breasts her nipples were flushed wine dark, the surrounding flesh reddened, and every tweak and lick made her moan and her whole body twitch and jolt. She was wet. So wet. Her clit felt swollen with sheer arousal, and her cunt was slick and soaking her knickers.

Her trousers and knickers were a terrible nuisance and she wanted them gone. She wanted to sink down on Malfoy's wonderfully thick cock and ride him until it hurt inside, until she came on her fingers and around his cock, and he came in her. But she had something she hadn't shown him that she wanted to. "W-wait. Hang on," she said, finger over his slightly puffy lips as he leaned in to kiss her. "Upstairs. I have something I think you might like." She couldn't help the little smirk that flickered on her lips, and his expression turned predatory.

"Take your clothes off and lead the way," he said, low and husky, eyes gleaming, and Hermione huffed a laugh.

"Take my clothes off? Now?" She felt oddly self-conscious; the way he was looking at her, probably. Like he was a cheetah, and she a lone, wounded gazelle. He grinned, a wicked flash of white teeth, and nodded.

"Take them off or I'll take them off you."

"Well, maybe I like the sound of that…" she teased, pushing to her feet and backing off a step, a gleeful wildness burning through her stoked by his expression, and his grin grew more wicked.

"What, you want me to hunt you down and strip you by force, Granger?"

"Maybe…" she backed off a step, and he stood. Gosh, he was tall. With those long legs. "You have to catch me first," she said, deciding on a whim and taking off like a flash, squeaking with glee as he lunged after her, his eyes bright. She grabbed the doorway and swung herself around the corner, laughing as his fingers brushed her side. "Missed me!" She felt buoyant and ridiculous, and maybe just a little tipsy as she raced down the hall and skidded through the kitchen, yanking an upper cabinet door open as she went. She flailed through the dining room doorway just as she heard a "fuck!" and Malfoy wheezing a laugh, then the creak and thud of the cabinet door swinging shut.

"You nearly clocked me, Granger," he called, all filled with amusement as he rounded the corner at a sedate pace, his shirt unbuttoned now. Hermione stood breathing hard on the opposite side of the dining table, snorting laughter as she imagined it. Him skidding to a stop and just barely avoiding it, before slapping it shut. "Oh, it's hilarious now, but it wouldn't have been if I hadn't avoided it," he said dryly, eyeing her. "How am I supposed to fuck you if I'm knocked silly?"

"I knew you'd be fine," she said, smirking. "Seeker reflexes."

"What, are you going to throw a bust at me next?" And then his eyes went to her chest, and she thought bust with an eye roll, and he grinned and chewed on his lower lip. "Anyway, you're stuck now."

"No…" Hermione said uncertainly, more breathless than she really ought to be, her knickers slick. He raised his brows, waiting in nothing but his trousers as she stood in nothing but hers. And then she faked right and dashed left, and he corrected faster than she could run, so she whirled and ran right again, him chasing her and she laughing in a gasping snicker. And then he swept his arm around her middle and yanked her back against him, before pushing her up against the dining room wall, caged between his body and the wall.

"Caught," he said with satisfaction, his arm around her waist, and she pushed her face up and kissed him, her arms looping around his neck. His hands went to her hips then and he shoved her pyjama trousers and knickers down around her thighs. Hermione wiggled her legs and her clothes dropped to her ankles, and Malfoy's free hand went to her vulva like a magnet to iron. She knew what he'd find. "Oh Salazar's sake, Granger," he breathed into her hair, and then mumbled something that ended in, "– fucking wonderful," said with heartfelt enthusiasm. He hoisted her up with a grunt and then she lifted her thighs up and clamped them around him. Cool air assailed her wet flesh.

"Upstairs," she said imperiously, pointing, and he grinned lopsided and kissed her again before pushing off from the wall, holding her firmly, one hand curving around her bum cheek enough for his fingertips to brush against her vulva rather tantalisingly.

"You're ridiculous, Granger."

"Mm," she agreed, busy biting at his collarbone as he carried her up the stairs.

"Your hair is going to be the death of us," he said near the top, smoothing his hand over her head. "I can't see a Merlin-damned thing."

"Mmph." She shut her eyes. "I'll die happy, then."

He dumped her on the bed unceremoniously and she laughed, scrambling across it naked on all fours and going for her bedside drawer. She remembered what he'd said, Saturday morning. "Clothes off," she ordered as she yanked her drawer open and rummaged inside. Hidden right at the back of her second drawer down was… She held it up, grinning. "Ta-da!"

Malfoy straightened, having just shoved his boxers down around his ankles. His eyes widened. "Is that a vibrator?"

Hermione nodded, grinning. It was indeed a vibrator. A Lelo Gigi she'd bought a couple of years ago. She didn't pull it out often – usually she came easily enough without bothering with it, but after what Malfoy had mentioned… He had a very speculative look in his eyes. She could almost envision the scenes he was playing out in his head.

"Toss it here?"

She did, and he caught it neatly as she crawled back to the end of the bed and plumped down cross-legged. "Heavier than I thought," he said as he examined it, turning it over in his hands and then figuring out how to switch it on. He pressed the flattened end against his palm. "Merlin, that's – wow."

"They have prostate stimulators too," Hermione said innocently. "For men."

Malfoy gave her a flat look. "No."

She snickered, as he cycled through the settings, figuring it out.

"Lie back," he said after a moment and Hermione did, leaning back on her elbows with her lower legs hanging over the edge of the bed and her thighs spread.

"Do you even know what you're doing with that?"

"I saw videos," he said. "On the internet."

"That's not reassuring."

He smirked, and then knelt down, taking her hips and pulling her closer toward the edge of the bed. And then with his eyes fixed on her wet pussy in a way that should have made her feel exposed but didn't, he switched the vibrator on and carefully pressed it to her clit. Her right leg spasmed and her toes curled, and a moan burst from her throat entirely involuntarily as the electric stimulation slammed through her and her head fell back, her arms going limp. It was intense and it sent pleasure buzzing from her clit to her cunt, all her insides clenching deliciously.

"Oh," Malfoy said, filled with awe, as if in revelation. As if seeing all the unfolding possibilities and uses.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck…" Hermione chanted, gripping fistfuls of the bed-cover, her legs trembling as he played with her. "Oh God, that's a lot, and I'm going to come very soon," she gasped in warning, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, gasping in heaves of air, feeling slickness trickle from her cunt as it clenched involuntarily. "And be careful. N-not too direct. If you make me overstimulated before I come, I swear I'll kill you."

"Noted," he said, voice slightly tight, making little rocking circles just above her clit, and when she peeked down she saw the concentration on his face. His focus as he tried to angle it just right. His free hand braced on the bed, his brow furrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth. Perfection kneeling between her legs. The tension built, and built. The pressure building. She was a spring coiled tighter and tighter, gasping on the bed, hands clenched fists and toes flexing and curling, little moans shuddering out of her with each panting, heaving breath.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Malfoy–mmph. Hnngh. Oh. Oh, I'm so close."

And then the winding spring burst free of its coil and Hermione came with a cry, her muscles tight and her body clenching down, pleasure blazing through her and erasing all thought. Ripples of climax, and in the wake of it she sobbed a moan, wanting him in her. Filling her, thick and stretching. Blissful. But instead she felt something other than his cock pressing against her cunt. The vibrator. Her eyes flew open and she looked down to see Malfoy with pink cheeks and pupil-swamped eyes, lust-drunk as he gradually pushed the vibrator into her. She whimpered and his gaze flew to her face.

"Yes?" he checked, predatory and vulnerable at once, and Hermione nodded urgently.

"Yes."

He pushed it inside her smooth and unhurried, and she made a sound that would have embarrassed her at any other time. And then he stood and leaned over her, taking her by the hair and gently guiding her down, off the bed – "Keep that vibrator in you," he told her, an order, and she whimpered and slid her hand down between her legs to do just that. And then she was on her knees with the vibrator thick and buzzing in her cunt as she held it there, her lips stretching to wrap around the head of his cock.

"Mmph," she said, pushing forward, wet mouth eager on him, and he huffed a quiet groan, his hand on her head and fingers curling in her hair – just resting there, and not controlling her. She swirled her tongue around the head of it, and then sucked hard, taking in as much of his cock as she could. It hit the back of her throat and she swallowed convulsively – he made a "hnngh" – and then gagged, prompting another gasping sound from him, before she pulled her head back, saliva flooding her mouth. Her cunt was a sea of pleasure, a trickle of juices sliding very slowly down her thighs as she took hold of his shaft in one hand, letting her saliva run all over his cock, and then moving her mouth and hand in unison, sucking it thoroughly and wetly.

When she flicked her gaze up at Malfoy, he was glazed and flushed, panting, his shoulders moving sharply with his breaths as he watched her, fixed and intent.

"Fuck," he gasped at last, and yanked her head back, lifting her up onto the bed with ease and dropping her on her back, whipping the buzzing vibrator out of her cunt, and replacing it with his cock. "Oh fuck," he groaned again, dropping his forehead to her temple as he thrust into her, and she gave a strangled, whimpering moan.

"Oh – nngh…" Her hands clutched at his head and her legs wrapped around his hips as he methodically fucked the very breath out of her, her body a flood of overwhelming sensation as her vibrator buzzed abandoned on the bed nearby. "Oh God, Malfoy."