Back again with some real progress this time. No more sulking. Okay… well, maybe a little bit more sulking :)
Chapter Eight
…
…
The school year was officially on pause for a couple of weeks as the occupants of the castle let out a collective sigh of relief, glad for the holiday break to recuperate. The Eighth Years, in particular, were anticipating some time off in between their hectic study schedules. With the war still fresh in everyone's memories, many of the students in the younger years had gone home. Hogwarts had become quiet again, peaceful even. The professors were glad for the break from classes as well and there was a general atmosphere of relaxation permeating the corridors. The snow outside had fallen thick and soft until the grounds were blanketed in white. Small groups of students who'd stayed behind had taken to organising sledding excursions and snow fights as the sky brightened approaching Christmas Eve.
Draco needn't have worried about spending time with his new friend once classes were over. They spent every day together. Sometimes they would sit for hours in the library, reading quietly and sharing a thermos of hot chocolate. Then one of them would get the itch to move outdoors and go for a walk around the lake. Occasionally Hermione would disappear on some errand to help Hagrid or visit Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing, and Draco would need to occupy himself for a few hours.
But they spent most of their time together. And just like during term time, they enjoyed solitude as much as they enjoyed talking, engaging in frivolous banter only when they roamed away from their books. But the quiet was just as lovely as the chit-chat. It was all so… nice. Frankly, Draco was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to realise that he had very little to offer her besides sullen silences and temperamental mood swings. But she didn't appear to mind so far. In fact, more than once, Hermione had commented how wonderful it was to just relax over the Christmas break and do things for herself. Like working her way through the metre high stack of books she'd been keeping next to her bedside table. Or clicking away with her knitting needles in front of one of the library's cosy little fireplaces. She'd been tirelessly working on her stitches, undoing and reforming each one until they were perfect. When he'd asked about it, she'd explained to him with a blush that she used to be terrible at knitting, making only lumpy woollen monstrosities. But she'd persevered and read some books on the topic, and now she was much more fastidious with her work. Draco was hardly a good judge of quality, though. Whatever she was making seemed lovely, and he couldn't imagine anyone being disappointed with it, given the hours of effort she'd put in.
One day when Hermione was occupied in the Hospital Wing, he'd managed to slip down to Hogsmeade to shop for a present for her, impossible though it seemed. It wasn't an experience he'd enjoyed, really, going from shop to shop and trying to decide what would be appropriate and not scream 'I'm obsessed with you'. He was seriously contemplating the far more tempting option of just wrapping himself up in a big bow and begging her to undo him with her tongue.
Draco shook his head with a strangled chuckle, glad that she was currently absorbed in her thick tome and couldn't read his thoughts. So far, he'd been too cowardly to actually give her the present he'd bought that day. The bracelet had cost him a bloody fortune, purchased from a boutique jewellery store that had ordered the piece in from London. Four hundred galleons later, it was just sitting uselessly at the bottom of his sock drawer.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But once he got it back to his room, he'd taken one look at the elegant, romantic velvet case and panicked. It was too… too something. The whole thing reeked of desperation. So, he'd shoved it away and was trying hard not to think about it.
I should have just gotten her a book, he grumbled to himself, wishing he were braver. But even though Hermione had made it patently clear that she wasn't involved with Potter in any romantic way, that still didn't suddenly make her fair game for any other former Death Eater and current social pariah to come along and seduce the witch.
Later that night, the two returned to the Third-Floor corridor in companionable silence. It was Christmas Eve and the feast had been particularly good. The other Eighth Years had all stuck around for more Yule pudding, but Hermione had been struggling to hold in her yawns, and eventually she'd bowed out. As always, Draco followed wherever she went.
As they approached their rooms, they both stopped outside her chamber door. The awkwardness that could have descended on them in that moment never came. It was undercut by the sweet, tentative smile she bestowed on him.
"Here – this is for you."
He stared down in confusion at the wrapped package she'd just pulled out from her beaded bag. This time the wrapping was more festive - a blue and white snowflake pattern with a silvery bow. He frowned and took the package gingerly from her hands.
"Wh… what? You already… um… you already gave me a present," he commented, turning it over as though it were cursed.
"Oh, that was just a tree ornament, silly. It's tradition to hang something new on your first tree. This is your real present."
Draco stared at her incredulously, wondering what on earth he was supposed to say. Should he retrieve the bracelet from his sock drawer and give it to her? Would she expect something in return? The thought of her wearing something shiny that he'd given to her lit something hot inside him. If it were up to him,
she'd be dripping in diamonds and Malfoy heirlooms (even if it did make his ancestors spin in their graves). Then everyone would know she was his.
But even though he didn't have much experience in this area, he did know that friends didn't give each other expensive jewellery. That was for lovers, not friends. She'd probably be horrified.
"Well?" she pressed, giving him a nudge and pointing at the gift and he shook his head to make himself concentrate on the matter at hand.
The soft squishy matter wrapped in blue and silver.
Draco carefully eased open the wrapping, peeling off the sticky tape so as not to ruin anything. As he parted the paper, a familiar sight greeted him. It was the project she'd been working on. He'd seen it a hundred times as they sat quietly in the library together. She'd knitted it herself. He drew it out gently, noticing that she'd finished it properly since he last saw it. The scarf was a dark steel colour made from a sinfully soft woven knit, and down one end she'd stitched the initials DM in silvery grey.
"I know you probably own an endless supply of fancy clothes and accessories, but I didn't have much money left after the war, not with my parents in Australia, and the fabric was on sale…"
Draco swallowed and lifted his hand to press his fingertips against her mouth to stem the long-winded explanation she'd begun. He quickly drew back as soon as he'd touched her, shivering at the feel of her lips on his skin.
"It's perfect, thank you," he told her, barely able to swallow around the lump in his throat. Just thinking of the hours she'd spent knitting this for him made that insufferable hope rise up inside him again. Hope was a dangerous thing, he knew, but he couldn't stop himself.
Draco looked down at her closely, noting the flush of her cheeks and the swell of her lips from drinking her peppermint tea with dessert, which she always took scalding hot. He teetered forwards a bit into her space, the scent of her shampoo captivating him and drawing him in. He wanted to kiss her so bad he could taste it. He wanted to slam her against the bloody door behind her and snog her senseless until she couldn't stand on her own two feet anymore.
And if she didn't go inside right now that's exactly what he was going to do.
Get a grip, Draco, he told himself, mortified that he seemed to completely lose his senses whenever he was around her. He'd never felt this itching heat under his skin before. Like he was no longer in control of himself. As soon as he was near Hermione, smelling her, watching her expectant smile as he opened her gift, it drove him crazy! His stomach was twisting itself into knots and his hands were suddenly burning with the need to touch her, grasp her and bury himself in her warmth until there was nothing left.
Clearing his throat, Draco chose the much more sensible option before him, even though certain parts of his body screamed in protest.
"I should…er…let you go to bed. Thanks again for the scarf. It's wonderful. Anyway… er…goodnight Gr…Hermione," he blurted, his voice husky like crushed velvet when he said her name. Draco took a deliberate step backwards, out of her space. Hermione blinked up at him in confusion, clearly thrown by his abrupt manner as he spun on his heel and walked the short distance down to his own room, clutching his gift. He glanced back one more time, his thoughts spinning with regret and self-recrimination.
"Goodnight, Draco," she called after him with a slight frown. Then the next moment he was disappearing into his room and snapping the door shut. He leaned back against it as his breaths came fast and heavy.
Nice one, Draco. Bloody brilliant.
But at least he hadn't caved and snogged her senseless. That would have potentially been more disastrous. He might have received a push and a slap across the face for his audacity. It was better this way, walking away from her frustrated but with his pride intact.
Draco groaned and glared down at the offending body part that was trying to express its own desires.
"This is all your bloody fault," he told his cock in a hoarse voice, willing it to please for the love of Merlin just keep its cool. With a sigh, Draco threw himself away from the door and into the room. He sat on his bed for a moment in a daze, clutching the scarf she'd knitted and feeling restless. The gift smelled a bit like her, he realised, lifting it masochistically to his nose and taking a deep breath in. With a shiver, he reached for his sock drawer, tugging out the black jewellery box and staring at it glumly. He'd just completely bolted from her presence like a damn coward. He should have just given her the sodding bracelet that cost him a fortune and let his cards fall openly on the table. At least then he could have stopped agonising over it. But the whole romantic nature of it terrified him. The bracelet was like a big neon sign flashing his every intention at her. It revealed his guilt, his frustration, his fascination, his devotion… all the things that had been brewing inside him.
He may as well just turn his wand on himself. He was a former Death Eater and her childhood tormentor. What the hell did he have to offer her, anyway? Shoving the jewellery case back into his drawer, Draco shot to his feet with jerky movements and cursed bitterly. He paced back and forth for a moment, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
She'd given him two presents now and he'd just walked away in a snit, giving her fuck all. Some kind of friend he was. Then again, the extremely dirty thoughts running through his head like a film reel right now weren't exactly 'friendly' either.
With a slightly manic laugh, Draco rubbed his hands down over his face, making a demented little noise of aggravation.
I'll just send her a Christmas card, he thought morosely, then I can apologize properly for not buying her anything. There's no way in hell I'm giving her that bloody bracelet.
Spinning around he approached his desk, dropping inelegantly into the chair there and tugging out a piece of parchment from his satchel. He dipped his quill into the ink pot and held it poised over the scroll, his jaw set firm as he glared at the empty page. What did one write to the girl he was currently pining after like a moody third year? It's not like he could just say 'Merry Christmas – sorry I'm such a useless prick!'
Draco chuckled hoarsely again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He reached down with an impatient groan and adjusted himself in his trousers. He did not want to take matters into his own hands again. Concentrating on the parchment before him, Draco grit his teeth and got to work, still cursing himself every few seconds.
Dear Hermione,
I was a bit of a prat earlier, wasn't I? I'm sorry I left so suddenly. What I should have done was stayed and thanked you properly. I should have told you how much I really do appreciate the scarf you gave me. I like that you were thinking about me when you made it. Though I wonder if I'm really worth it. I think about you too…
Draco snorted and kept scribbling, getting out all his feelings in one big, tangled mess while his thoughts were all jumbled up inside him desperate to come out. It didn't matter that he would absolutely never ever send this to her. It still felt good to put it into writing.
… I think about you constantly. It's slowly driving me crazy. Spending so much time together I can't seem to get you out of my head. Even when I'm dreaming… well, let's just say those thoughts are slowly escaping my dreams lately.
If you want to know what I'd really like for Christmas, then I could tell you. I've pictured it a thousand times. No gift wrapping required. Just your maddening curls wrapped around my hands as I grip them. Your lips stretched around my dick, sucking me so hard I see stars. I imagine it every night. I want your mouth on me so bad it undoes me, makes me tremble. I'm completely fixated on the idea of you sucking me off.
That's my Christmas wish. Too bad it'll never happen. So please just put me out of my misery…
Draco leaned back in his chair, laughing like a lunatic and scrubbing his hands over his face. He shook his head and pressed his fist against his temple as though he could rid himself of the delectable images his little self-deprecating stunt had produced.
"If only it were that easy…"
Reading over the scandalous words once more, Draco snorted and shook his head in pained humour. He brusquely grabbed the parchment and scrunched it up into a little ball. Then he tossed the paper with unerring accuracy into his fireplace, knowing it would burn there along with his hopes.
Slumping forwards, he closed his eyes and composed himself, counting backwards from ten as he breathed deeply. Maybe he'd just start from scratch with a simple holiday message and none of the personal stuff. Definitely best to leave out the horny play-by-play as well!
As he went to reach for his quill once more, a flickering movement caught his eye. Draco peered over at the fireplace, which suddenly formed a green tinge around the parchment that was resting there atop some logs. Then, before his eyes, the flames burned bright emerald green, suddenly hissing and spitting as the parchment vibrated.
"NOOO!"
The next second seemed to happen in slow motion, as he released a shocked, agonised cry of terror and fell to his knees before the fireplace, but the parchment had vanished. The glowing name Hermione on the top of the letter left little doubt as to where it had sent itself. Draco stared for a moment in horrified silence. He was so stunned he couldn't move. He could only gasp as his body slowly shut down and threw itself into a full-blown panic.
Oh…oh god…
Shit, shit, shit!
The Eighth-Year fireplaces.
They were connected.
To send any correspondence, you just addressed your letter to the intended recipient.
Then placed it into the fire.
"Dear Hermione…"
Which meant…
Oh god.
Sweet fucking Salazar.
He'd just sent her the letter.
The LETTER.
The one he wrote "for her" but NEVER intended for her to actually read.
Not in a million fucking years.
The one where he confessed that he thought about her all the time.
And then described how he fantasised about her lips wrapped around his dick.
Oh god.
Draco you absolute wanker!
The one where he asked her to suck him off for Christmas.
Bloody buggering hell!
His heart pounded so hard his ribs ached.
I'm so fucked.
I'll have to avada myself.
NO.
No no no.
Think, just think…
I need to make sure she doesn't read it.
Draco managed to pull himself together and regain some semblance of rational thought. That was it. He needed to stop her from reading it. He needed to go right fucking now.
Jolting to his feet, his palms itching with sweat and his heart pounding so hard his ribs ached, Draco leapt into action. He yanked his door open and sprinted down the hallway at top speed.
"Please please please… let her be busy, or asleep!" he muttered desperately as he skidded to a halt outside her room. Swallowing against the coarse, scratching feeling in his throat and trying to appear composed when inside he was a wretched, terrified mess, Draco rapped three times on her door. He did it sharply, business-like. His foot was tapping impatiently as he waited, only silence greeting him.
"Come on, damnit!"
He knocked again, harder this time. And when there was still no response, he acted on instinct. Not sure if it would work but knowing the risk was worth it, he grasped the door handle and turned, pushing it and thanking the founders it opened under his touch. She'd left it unlocked. With panting, urgent breaths, Draco forced himself into her room, stumbling across the threshold and wincing as the door slammed shut behind him.
And there she was.
Hermione was standing in the middle of the room, her back facing him as she remained still and unmoving. And in her hands, she held the parchment.
No…NO!
She'd smoothed it out, still riddled with creases and its fair share of soot from the fireplace. But his neat handwriting was painfully visible and all too distinctive.
Come on, Hermione. Just laugh. Act like it's a joke. Please, god, please…
What have I done?
Draco, you useless prick.
As she turned towards him, he finally got a look at her face. Her jaw was sort of slack and her mouth open as she read the words again and again, her brows creased up together in confusion. She looked like she was reading something in a foreign language, trying desperately to figure out the meaning and having limited success. And then she seemed to realise that she was no longer alone, and her big brown eyes raised up to meet his. If she was surprised to see him, frozen but breathing heavily in her bedroom, then she didn't show it. She just looked dazed, almost numb as she regarded him. Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. His eyes were wide and pleading. His hair was dishevelled, and his hands were shaking. He probably looked like a total mess.
"Gr…Hermione-" he began, breaking the silence when it became clear that she was unable to speak right now, "I… I don't… it wasn't…"
But he didn't know what to say. He could tell her that it had just been a joke, but what kind of sick fuck would write a letter like that as a joke? And if he told her that it was genuine, then he'd look like some kind of pervert, writing down his fantasies and sending them to her for kicks. The truth was he had no idea how to handle this. Eventually he worked up the courage to just say something honest.
"I didn't mean to send that to you," he told her, pointing at the letter, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.
"You… what?" she croaked after a slight pause.
"I wrote that… well, I wrote it for myself mainly. I never meant for you to read it. I was just getting some stuff off my chest. But then I scrunched it up and threw it in the fireplace, and I forgot… I forgot that-"
Hermione just sort of nodded blearily, cutting off his rambling words, her gaze dropping to the letter again. The normally sharp, fiercely intelligent witch seemed almost confounded, like her mind had gone foggy. Her eyes were glazed and wide. Draco was tempted to just reach forward and rip it from her hands. Anything to stop her reading it again. But then her voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Is it true?"
Draco blinked and stared at her, shocked. At the same time, Hermione blushed darkly, her cheeks turning a furious shade of crimson by the light of the fire. Her question had thrown him, but he gathered himself quickly.
"I…It doesn't matter," he told her, shaking his head and staring at her, begging her to just drop it.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?"
"It's just…you don't need to worry about it. I don't need you to… do or say anything. Unless of course you feel like slapping me, which I would totally understand. But…I never wanted you to read it."
Hermione regarded him for a long, quiet moment, her face puzzled. Eventually she spoke again, though her voice was still low and uncertain. Frankly, Draco was surprised she wasn't yelling at him right now, telling him what a low-life weirdo he was.
"Okay. But… is it true? Do you really…" she waved a hand meaningfully, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his crotch. Draco felt the breath slip out of him, stolen from his lungs and he gazed at her in pained turmoil for a moment. Why wasn't she shouting at him? Pushing him out of her room?
"Please don't make me answer that," he begged, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.
"Just tell me," she commanded softly, and though her voice was anything but firm, he felt himself strangely compelled to answer.
"I…I was... Yes. Yes it's…true," he managed to force the words out, even though they made him wince when he heard how pathetic they sounded. Here he was confessing to having dirty fantasies about her and he was shaking like a damn leaf while she just stood there calmly. What was happening here? His head was spinning.
"You really think about…you want me to…um…" again, her voice trailed off and her deep brown eyes kept darting cautiously down to the front of his trousers where he was pretty sure his previous erection hadn't quite abated fully. And he'd been stupid enough to wear tight jeans today that did nothing to hide it.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his face dropping with a pained grimace, and he closed his eyes for a second. The fear and doubt that he was afraid he'd see in her face were too much for him to bear. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I've ruined everything. I didn't mean to-"
"Okay."
He paused for a moment at her response. Her tone was still a little bit tense, but also kind of firm. Draco opened his eyes again and regarded her curiously.
"Okay?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. Surely she wasn't forgiving him so easily? Accepting his apology so casually as if he'd just made a mistake with their homework. It wasn't possible. His confusion must have been evident on his face, because she visibly swallowed and powered on.
"Okay," she repeated, more confidently this time, "I'll do it."
For a long, agonised moment, Draco's brain switched off and he was absolutely bloody certain he'd misheard or misunderstood what she'd said. The only thing he was aware of was the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
"What?" he whispered, sure that she was about to clarify what she'd said or blush and stammer as she withdrew the words. But no. Instead, she just tilted her head to one side, her expression actually growing more determined as the hesitancy in her eyes melted away.
"I'll do it."
"Wh…bu…you'll… what?"
She sighed this time, waving her hand in the direction of his still half-hard boner and widening her eyes meaningfully.
"I'll do the thing… from your letter."
"Are you crazy?"
"Excuse me?"
His voice had gone all hoarse and high, while she was just starting to seem mildly irritated.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" he spluttered, stumbling back a couple of steps towards the door in case he needed to make a run for it. Surely this was a trick. Surely she was about to just hex his balls right off.
"You said the letter was true, didn't you? That you wrote it because you wanted to get things off your chest? Things you actually feel?"
"Well yes-"
"Was that a lie then?"
"No!"
She looked at him a bit impatiently and folded her arms across her chest as she raised one eyebrow at him.
"So what's the problem? You do want me to… um… suck you off, right?" she stammered a bit on the actual words, her cheeks growing pink as she licked her lips, her tone nervous and strained as though she'd never dreamed of saying those kinds of things out loud. Which she probably never had before. Her eyes had actually flickered down towards the letter as if to check she was even saying it right. Draco almost groaned aloud, curling his hands into fists to stop himself from doing something incredibly rash.
Bloody hell…
Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to get himself back under control and steady the ship. The last thing he wanted was to make an idiot of himself in front of Granger and ruin their shaky friendship, which was frayed and tentative at best anyway. And this was surely some kind of sick cosmic joke that would backfire on him the moment she realised what she was actually saying. What it meant.
"Look… you don't have to… I should never have written that. I really don't expect you to do it."
Hermione studied him closely, taking a small, cautious step toward him.
"Why not?"
He groaned in frustration and dragged a trembling hand back through his hair, noticing that it was already a tangled mess.
"Because it's crazy! And we both know you'd regret it," he told her in a voice that he wished didn't sound so bitter.
"How do you know I'd regret it?" she challenged him, a stubborn pout on her lips that he felt like a hot spear through his centre, and he cursed quietly under his breath.
"I really don't need any more pity presents for Christmas, Granger," he told her sternly, reverting to her last name to drive the point home. But he meant it. Between the decorations and the scarf and now this… did she just feel sorry for the poor lonely little Death Eater? He had no friends, and nobody really cared about him. It wouldn't be the first project she'd taken up on behalf of the downtrodden. But Hermione just frowned at him, a scowl forming on her lips.
"Pity?" she repeated incredulously, "Don't be absurd."
"What else would you call it?" he shot back, his fist tightening until he could feel his nails digging painfully into his palms. The witch let out a long, slow breath and stepped closer again. She wasn't close enough to touch but he could smell her shampoo and her skin lotion, and he could see the way her blush had spread down her neck into her jumper, disappearing from view.
"It's not pity, Draco. I want to do it," she told him quietly. Then he was snapping his mouth shut with a click from where he'd opened it to continue arguing. He was frozen, staring at her in stunned disbelief. She… she wanted to…
She wanted to do it?
Draco just stared at her in uncomprehending silence, hardly daring to breathe.
"You… you want…"
He couldn't even manage to choke out the question, prompting her gaze to flicker downwards as a slight smile tugged at her lips.
"Yes. I want to. And you obviously want me to do it as well," she told him pointedly, gesturing down to where she was looking. Draco glanced down as well.
Buggering fuck.
Sometime during their conversation his lingering semi arousal had swollen and grown into a full, painfully hard bulge, straining so clearly against the front of his jeans that it was tragically unmissable. He felt his face heat with embarrassment and shifted awkwardly, but it didn't abate.
"Hermione-" he began, trying one last time to try and find the words to tell her that this was stupid, and she didn't need to do it and it would ruin things between them and he'd been a desperate, horny tosser when he'd written that letter. But nothing came to him. No words escaped him as she stepped in really close this time, her brown eyes watching him carefully as though he were a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. Then she reached out painfully slowly with her hand until just her fingertips touched the swell of him through his jeans, lightly stroking his length as though tracing it.
Fucking hell…
All his arguments came to a screeching halt inside his own head and suddenly his brain was clogged, filled with a chaotic mess of just more, harder, Merlin please…
"Hermione-" he croaked, his fists curled up so tight they trembled, hanging uselessly by his sides.
"Do you…do you really think about…this?" she asked with a strange kind of academic curiosity as she touched his erection hesitantly, pressing a little harder with her fingertips, almost stroking him through the denim.
"All the fucking time," he confessed in a pitiful whisper. He screwed his eyes shut tight, determinedly avoiding the shocked expression on her face he knew would be there.
Really smooth, Draco. Nice one.
But any doubts or mortification was quickly wiped away by the sudden sensation of her whole hand cupping him and then squeezing. Oh Merlin, the feel of her hand wrapped around him, exerting the most inadequate but tantalising amount of pressure… it was fucking incredible. He was going to lose it before they even started.
Am I really going to let her… are we really doing this?
If it didn't all feel so agonisingly real, he would have been sure it was a dream. But no, he could feel the heat from the fireplace and hear the small panting breaths falling from Hermione's mouth, as well as the slight scrape of her fingernails against the denim. His chest tightened as he accepted that this was indeed real. This was really happening.
Then suddenly the feeling was gone, and Hermione was pulling back. He released an embarrassing sound halfway between a whimper and a growl, only just managing to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand to haul it back to him. But he froze when he saw the stubborn glint in her brown eyes. She had that same look she got whenever she was on the right track towards solving a difficult problem in class.
Draco's breath vanished from his lungs in one desperate exhale when the witch then dropped down to her knees.
Merlin's fucking beard, she's going to do it right here, right now…
He peered down at her, grey eyes going wide with shock as Hermione settled herself comfortably on the floor in the middle of her bedroom, her knees cushioned by a thick navy rug. Her gaze was fixated on the bulge in the front of his jeans, and he almost lost it when she licked her lips nervously.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" he didn't realise he was chanting the word out loud in a rasping voice until Hermione blinked and glanced up at him, her brown eyes determined but also a little unsure.
"I've never done this before…" she began in a shaky tone, before rallying herself and giving him a slightly sheepish smile, "you'll have to tell me what feels good."
And then she was reaching up to the buckle of his belt, snapping it open with slightly unsure hands.
Oh god… this is really happening…
The metallic sound of the zipper on his jeans being dragged down was loud in the small space, accompanied only by the crackling of the fireplace and his own rapid, heavy breathing. As her fingers brushed his erection his eyes rolled up to the ceiling and his jaw clenched down hard for a moment.
Please don't come in two seconds flat like some bratty third year, he begged, before forcing his gaze back down to watch. He didn't want to miss a second, even though the visual of Hermione on her knees drawing him tentatively out of his briefs was enough to almost undo him completely. She studied him avidly once he was exposed to the warm air of the room. He was so hard his cock was a dark pinkish red and there was a copious amount of precum wetting the tip. And she was looking at it as though she were fascinated, as though she'd never seen a dick up close before. Maybe she never had. He could feel her panting little breaths against the tip and he had to stifle a groan.
And then she wrapped her hand around him, almost experimentally, giving it another squeeze like before. Only now, without the barrier of his jeans between them, it was agony. It was almost too much. Her hand was so hot as she tightened it around him, releasing him and watching his dick twitch with curious brown eyes.
"How the hell is this even happening-" he mumbled quietly to himself and clenched his teeth. Then she started stroking him and it was fucking heaven. Any lingering doubts fled his mind the moment her tentative movements began, and it was all he could do not to thrust his hips forwards urgently.
"Like… like this?" she stammered, and Draco couldn't even reply, only nod and grunt in affirmation, the sound choked and frantic.
"Uhuhhh..." the sound of his agreement twisted into a moan at the end as she ran her thumb curiously over the tip of his cock, her pathway eased by the slickness of his precum. She examined the glistening substance curiously, reminding him so much of her focused attention in potions class when they were faced with a new ingredient that he almost laughed. It seemed she was as dogmatic with something like this as she was with everything else.
Hermione's next action, though, wiped the amusement from his mind as well as all other conscious thought. She lifted her wet thumb to her own mouth and tasted it, her tongue darting out with a hesitant lick.
"Hmmm," she hummed thoughtfully, blinking in surprise and tilting her head to one side as though she'd made a new discovery. And fuck if those little intellectual mannerisms weren't the sexiest damn thing he'd ever seen. She seemed to make up her mind about something, leaning in with purposeful confidence this time. Still holding him at the base, she licked the top of his cock with one thorough swipe. Draco couldn't hold in his whimper and his palms stung from where his nails dug in.
"Shiiiit," he gasped as she licked him again and again. He stared down at her, transfixed by the sight of Granger attending to his prick like a fucking ice cream cone.
It struck him all at once that this was real. This was happening. Hermione Granger was really here on her knees in front of him licking him and… oh god… now he was inside her. She'd leaned closer and had wrapped her lips around the tip, enveloping it in her hot perfect mouth. The only thing that could possibly make this better was if…
Fuck.
She gave it a soft suck, trialling different angles of her head and different levels of suction, but all staying focused on just the head of him.
"Fuck yes…Hermione, please Merlin suck me harder-"
As soon as the words flew from his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut in mortification. But that feeling was swiftly replaced by ecstasy when the little witch actually did what he asked. She sucked hard enough that he thought his brains would come out through his dick, his thoughts were so scrambled. He opened his eyes again and stared blearily down at her, noticing that she was now looking up at him with undisguised interest, her eyes a bit bleary but also alight with something.
She was enjoying it. She had her mouth around his dick, and she was enjoying it - she liked what it was doing to him, how wild he looked with his clenched fists twitching and his face screwed up in bliss. With an experimental twist of her tongue, she caressed the slit at the top of his cock and Draco actually jerked backwards with a gasp. His length slipped from her mouth with a wet pop. She stared up at him with swollen red lips and a confused frown.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked a bit huskily, and Draco trembled in response.
"No! No, hell no. Fuck Hermione, you're incredible, but I won't last very long-"
She just smiled, her gaze filled with satisfaction, and cut him off.
"Well good then."
Then she returned to what she was doing, and Draco groaned in submission, giving himself over to her completely as she took even more of him into her hot little mouth. She travelled down the length of his dick, her lips sliding further and further down his shaft until Draco thought he'd go mad with the desire to thrust forwards. But somehow, he managed to stop himself. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, wanting to bury themselves in her hair and hold on for dear life but not wanting to overwhelm her. Hermione seemed to notice his indecision, because she reached up with one hand and cradled his own, squeezing it in an encouraging gesture.
That was when he lost it.
Draco had been fantasizing for weeks about her damn curls, so silky and wild as they spilled over her shoulders and down the curve of her back. With a whimper of pure lust, he tangled his fingers in her hair, dragging over her scalp and gripping the curls as if they were his only anchor. He felt the vibration of her moan around his cock as she took more of him into her mouth. Then she drew back up his length until it was just his head and gave another experimental suck.
"Bloody buggering fuck-"
He groaned as she caught on and did it again. Eventually she developed a rhythm, his grip on her hair encouraging her to increase her pace and go faster. His throat seized up, choking down all the dangerous things he desperately wanted to say, like how fucking perfect she was, how she was the strongest witch he'd ever known and how he'd gone and screwed everything up by falling for her.
Wait, what?
His brain went foggy with a tide of overwhelming stimulus. Instead, he was distantly aware of his mouth just spurting wave after wave of frantic drivel like 'more, just like that, oh god, oh god, fuck me, oh god, suck harder'. Still, it was better than the alternative, like pledging his heart and soul to her or something equally pathetic.
Draco knew that it was going to be over fast. Too fast. Hermione's eyes were hooded and dark, and she was squirming where she kneeled as though pressing her thighs together. The thought that she might be turned on by this, that her cunt might be getting wet just from having him in her mouth and sucking him so beautifully heralded the beginning of the end. But he didn't want it to end. Draco dreaded what would come next. What if she really did regret it? What if she hated him or it was so awkward between them that it ruined their fragile friendship?
He didn't want it to end.
Draco clenched his eyes shut and tried to make himself last just a little bit longer. He tried to hold onto this exquisite, perfect feeling of Granger's hot mouth all around him. It might be the only time this happened, and he wanted to bathe in the memory of it. But his balls were tightening, and his pulse was pounding in his ears, and he knew it was futile. Especially when her teeth dragged over the head of his dick ever so softly, the tender scrape sending a shiver up his spine and a jolt of heat to his balls, signalling that he was about to finish.
"Her…Hermione… you need to stop, I'm going to cum. Fuck, I'm so close, please-"
His voice was a babbling mess, but he tried to exert pressure in her hair to tug her off. He couldn't come in her mouth. This was Hermione Granger, the sodding princess of Gryffindor and pristine war heroine. She'd never done this before. He really needed to not fill her mouth with his seed, that would be all kinds of wrong-
Noooo fuuuuck.
She resisted the pull of his hand, struggling from his grasp stubbornly, not paying any attention to his whimpered pleas. The resulting movement was like a sudden jerk, thrusting her head down harder on his prick, and she sank deeper than she'd been before until he was almost in her throat. Hermione hummed in surprise as she did, but she wasn't moving. She wasn't letting him go.
Oh god help me…
Draco's vision went white and his whole body flushed with an agonising heat as he came, releasing his seed in several desperate spurts that coated her tongue and throat. His nerves were on fire as his sensitive cock drowned in the heady sensation of her muscles convulsing around him. Swallowing, he realised. With panting breaths, he stared down at her, shocked and horrified at what he'd allowed to happen. But she was still looking so curious, so fascinated by the whole thing, her gaze wholly focused on his prick as it softened. The sight of her swallowing again, making sure she got it all down, caused one last surge and he twitched in her mouth, almost hardening fully again at the erotic visual.
Then he slipped out from between her lips with a choked groan, and it was over. She wiped her mouth with her hand self-consciously, as though checking for any mess, but her expression was thoughtful, pensive even. She slowly rose to her feet while Draco stared and stared at her. His gaze was so intense he was probably making her uncomfortable, but he needed to know… needed to see in her eyes that this wasn't a mistake. That she wanted it.
Please Merlin, tell me she actually wanted this.
And that maybe she wouldn't mind…
As soon as the thought flittered through his head it grabbed hold of him. And wouldn't let go. It was possible, right? Maybe she would let him reverse their positions, drop to his knees and taste her with his tongue. Draco took a hasty step forward, emboldened by the idea and by the sight of her lips, swollen and red from what she'd just done to him. Hermione's gaze flew to his at the sharp movement, her brown eyes blown wide and glassy. And…something else.
"Hermione-" he began in a strangled whisper, stepping closer again. He was ready to ask her, no beg her, to let him taste her in return, to let him spread her out and worship her wet depths all bloody night even if it drowned him. He'd just bury his head between her thighs and lick her for hours if she'd let him.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNOCK.
Both of them jolted at the sudden jarring sound. Their eyes widened in shared horror simultaneously as somebody knocked on the door.
"Wh…What-"
Shit. Buggering fuck.
Draco felt the breath freeze in his lungs and his heart clenched in fear and uncertainty.
Who the bloody hell is calling at this hour?
With frantic, fumbling hands, Draco shoved his glistening prick back inside his jeans, tugging up the zipper and snapping the buckle closed with shaking hands.
"Shit, shit, shit," he panted, adjusting himself as best he could in the denim, painfully aware that he'd started to get aroused again just thinking about tasting Hermione's pussy. And she was faring no better with her nerves. Her hands were also trembling as she tried to smooth her hair down. It was a chaotic mess of curls from where he'd been tugging on it, and her cheeks were flushed and pink. She tried to straighten her jumper and collar and iron out any imaginary creases in her outfit as she stumbled over to the door.
"Um…do I look…" she gestured vaguely to her appearance, looking about as harried as he felt. He gave her a quick once over. It probably wouldn't be wise to tell her that she was currently looking as though she'd had every prim and proper thought shagged right out of her brain. But other people may not notice. She might just look like she'd been taking a nap, he supposed.
"Uh…yeh. You look…fine…" he stammered, choking on the last word and feeling like a right git for not summoning up the courage to just declare that she was fucking gorgeous.
"Right," she breathed, straightening her shoulders and tossing her head back in that determined pose he was enamoured with. Then she opened the door with a casual confidence he envied and greeted her late-night guest with a smile.
"Oh Neville! Hi!"
"Hey Mione."
The other Gryffindor smiled, giving a small wave but somehow managing to look totally cool and unphased even though he was wearing green flannel pyjamas printed with bright, cartoon reindeer. Longbottom had certainly come a long way since those awkward days as a walking disaster in First Year. Even though his outfit looked positively ridiculous his head was held high and he seemed uncaring of the lurid colours or design.
"Nice pjs," Hermione told him with an affectionate smile, "Christmas present?"
"From my gran, yes," the boy confirmed, looking almost proud. Then his eyes slid past her shoulder and fell on Draco standing there awkwardly in her bedroom. Draco swallowed and grimaced, giving the Gryffindor boy a stiff nod and trying to appear calm.
"Oh… Malfoy," Longbottom noted with surprise, his eyes darting between the two of them curiously, "I didn't realise you…erm…were… here. In Mione's room."
"Oh, Draco was just picking up some notes for Ancient Runes," Granger explained almost dismissively with a wave of her hand. She even shot him an easy glance, appearing so collected and smooth with the lie that he was taken aback. When had she learned to act so well? She was so convincing he almost believed it. He almost started wondering whether he really was here for study notes and had merely imagined having the most intense, erotic experience of his entire life as she sucked his fucking brains out through his cock.
"On Christmas Eve?" Neville quizzed with a puzzled frown, though his expression wasn't judgmental exactly. Just bemused.
"No rest for the wicked," Draco replied dryly, trying and failing to sound as relaxed as Granger had.
It wasn't until his eyes flickered down that he noticed the slight tell in her performance. Behind her back, hidden from Longbottom's view, she held in her hand the crumpled piece of parchment that had started the whole sordid thing in the first place. Her fist was curled so tightly around the paper her knuckles were turning an angry white. And she was quivering just slightly.
She was nervous too.
"Right, well…" Neville continued, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning as if he knew a lot more than they'd like, "I didn't mean to interrupt your… studying."
"That's alright, you're not interrupting," Hermione replied airily, "What's the matter? Did you need something?"
"Actually, I just got back from St Mungo's, and I couldn't sleep-" his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders a bit awkwardly, and Draco watched with interested as Hermione's stance melted and relaxed in an instant.
"Oh, of course! How were your parents today? Did you pass on the gloves I made?"
"Yes, I did! They were…"
Neville's smile had brightened as he went to reply, but then his gaze darted to Draco again, seemingly reluctant to continue. It took a moment for him to register it, but when he did, Draco suddenly felt out of place and clumsy, as though he were intruding on a private moment. He was just the Death Eater who had no business listening to the sad tale of the Longbottom couple, after all. With a hoarse cough, he cleared his throat and stepped forwards.
"I'll er…just be going then," he mumbled, striding to the door with his eyes cast down at the rug. The same rug where Hermione had been kneeling when she…
"What about your notes?" Longbottom asked, recovering his cheeky smile again.
"What?" he asked a bit stupidly, pausing on the threshold.
"The Ancient Runes notes," the other wizard reminded him, a knowing twinkle in his eye. Hermione blinked as well, launching into action.
"Oh right, sorry. Here you go-"
She jumped over to her desk and grabbed some parchment that was laying on top of a textbook. With a self-conscious smile and a blush, she handed it to him, and he took the notes with shaking hands. He could see that they were just the same ones he already had from an earlier assignment, but he supposed they had to keep up the ruse. He nodded gratefully, his gaze fixed on hers. He tried to convey a hundred things as he looked into her brown eyes.
"Well, goodnight then," he said crisply, swallowing and stepping back with rapid steps until he was striding off down the corridor, not even giving her the opportunity to reply. It was best if he just got out of there. The painfully awkward moment was the last thing he wanted to linger on after what had just happened.
Draco escaped into his own room with a sigh, snapping the door closed and leaning back against it.
Merlin, I'm so screwed.
Tonight, he'd really crossed the line and made a complete ass of himself. So much for the only friendship he had in this place. Was it ruined now? Would they even be able to spend time together the same way after this? Study in the library? Go for walks around the lake? Or had he totally fucked everything up?
But she wanted it too.
The memory of what had just happened was making him twitch and harden again and he groaned. They hadn't even kissed! She'd just dropped to her knees right there…
Okay, those thoughts were really not helpful right now, he thought as his zipper dug into him uncomfortably.
Damnit. What am I supposed to do now?
He wished they hadn't been interrupted, but at the same time maybe it was best that they had. Because if he'd stayed, if they'd remained alone, he didn't know if he would have been able to stop himself from begging her for more. For any shred, any morsel of affection, of desire…
You've got serious problems, Draco. There's just no chance that she feels the same way.
Because she might have been caught up in a whirlwind of lonely Christmas hormones, but it simple wasn't possible that she felt the way he did. That she fancied him the way he liked her.
Sliding down the door to sit on the floor, Draco buried his face in his hands and stifled a groan of frustration. Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be the one person so far out of his reach it was laughable?
Maybe the universe was playing a sick joke on him. Because even though his body was singing with bliss and basking from the best goddamn night of his pitiful life, it bloody well hurt too.
Because of course it was her.
Of course, he was in love with Hermione fucking Granger.
And the sad reality was… he probably always had been.
…
…
Don't worry, he'll stop moping soon enough. Nothing like some fun lemons to kickstart those endorphins. Thaks to those who review/comment! I really appreciate it.