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Chapter Text

It wasn’t often that Draco Malfoy found himself genuinely caught off guard. After being more-or-less forced into a cult at sixteen, living under the same roof as a pasty, nose-lacking maniac, surviving a literal war, and years of auror training, it took significant effort to surprise him.

He supposed he really shouldn’t be so shocked then, that the brightest witch, Golden Girl, and his girlfriend of two years was able to accomplish this with ease.

All Draco currently knew, was that one moment he was chatting idly with a couple of Pansy Parkinson’s distant relatives whose names he could not for the life of him remember, the next he was being unceremoniously dragged from the ballroom. The party became a blur of dress robes and nondescript faces as he stumbled to keep up with Hermione’s determined gait. The curly haired witch ignored his repeated calls of her name and demands to know what she was doing, opting instead to giggle mischievously and send him a saucy wink.

Draco blinked in confusion, but didn’t have time to ponder her bizarre behavior as he suddenly found himself being pulled into an empty chamber that he vaguely remembered to be the Parkinson’s east drawing room.

Barely had the door slammed shut behind them when Hermione pounced, her glossed lips attacking his with ferocity. Draco groaned into the kiss, all thoughts of the party melting away as he gripped his girlfriend by the waist.

Hermione shoved her tongue into his mouth, allowing him to taste the lingering flavors of bruschetta and  - oh.

Tequila, of course. That explained it.

Alcohol tended to have varied effects on Hermione, but for some reason, tequila in particular made her incredibly randy. And knowing Pansy, Draco could only imagine how many shots his childhood friend had coerced Hermione into drinking with her. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to complain, although he was sure he’d be brewing extra hangover draught in the morning.

Hermione’s impatient lips on Draco’s neck pushed such thoughts out of his head, and he tugged at the little gold dress she was wearing. The flimsy straps were yanked down, exposing her bare breasts to the air.

“Ah!” Hermione nearly buckled in his hold as he pulled at one hard nipple and encased the other in his teeth.

Draco growled as he pushed her away from the door and turned them sharply, nearly knocking over a gaudy floor lamp in his mission to press her against the wall.

The blond continued his assault on her breasts, licking, kneading, and biting his way up her chest, uncaring if he left bruises in his wake. He loved leaving his marks on her.

“Mm…oh…Draco!” Hermione moaned, throwing her head back.

“Shh…quiet Granger,” Draco whispered as he nipped her earlobe. “Pansy will skin us both if she finds us doing salacious things at her engagement party.”

“You could lock and silence the room,” Hermione breathed with an arched brow.

Draco smirked in a way that made her insides knot with desire. “Where’s the fun in that?” the sneaky Slytherin murmured against her lips.

Tongues entangled, clothes were disheveled, and Draco’s carefully styled hair was raked askew by Hermione’s manicured nails. The blond gave a slight huff of surprise when she delivered a playful swat to his arse. Upon pulling back to send her a reproachful glance, Hermione only winked impishly.

Suddenly, the tipsy Gryffindor was on her knees before him and tugging at his belt. Draco groaned, tilting his head back as she took his cock out and began fondling it with practiced ease.

“Gods…fuck yes,” he panted as Hermione lapped at the tip, staring up at him with her big brown eyes with feigned innocence that she knew drove him crazy.

“Your mouth – fuck Granger, put it in your mouth,” Draco demanded breathlessly. Hermione gave a tiny triumphant smile before complying, wrapping her lips around the head and sucking as though he were a sweet lolly for her to enjoy.

Draco hissed through his teeth, bracing one hand on the wall behind her and tangling the other in her hair. The bright little witch smirked a little, pride bubbling in her chest.

She loved watching him come apart for her, adored making him lose control with nothing but her tongue. Her teenage self would have been appalled, her inner feminist balking at the mere idea of giving out blowjobs somehow making one feel powerful.

But they did, Hermione had come to realize.

But only when she gave them to Draco Malfoy.

As Draco grew impatient with her teasing suckles, the hand in her hair grasped the back of her head in a careful but firm hold. Hermione relaxed her jaw as he gave several shallow thrusts into her mouth, urging her to take him deeper. Her eyes watered as she suppressed her gag reflex, nails digging into his hips when his cock touched the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” Draco swore, biting down on his lower lip. “That’s it, love. Take it all in that pretty, hot mouth of yours.”

Hermione shuddered, his filthy words causing the pool of heat in her abdomen to intensify. As she swallowed around him, making him groan aloud, she couldn’t resist reaching down to rub her aching clit.

“Hermio – fuck! I’m gonna come. Gonna pour my seed down your throat…” Draco panted, eyes going out of focus as he gave a few last quick thrusts into her mouth before throwing his head back with a choked gasp.

Hermione moaned as his warm release coated her tongue and spilled down her throat, which she swallowed eagerly.

Draco withdrew his cock with a shudder, breathing heavily as he ran his fingers lovingly through her curls. Hermione licked the remains of him from her lips and stood, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth.

 “Done already?” she purred challengingly.

Draco met her smirk with one of his own, cupping her jaw as he leveled her with a heated look. “Never.”

Their lips had barely touched when the door to the drawing room burst open, causing both occupants to jump.

“Aha! I knew it! Theo, you owe me twenty galleons!” Blaise Zabini shouted triumphantly.

The handsome Italian folded his arms and leaned against the door frame with a smug look. “Two years and you two still can’t keep your hands off each other. Maybe I should find someone to be my sworn enemy for seven years if this is the result of that kind of sexual tension.”

“Fuck off, Blaise!” Draco snarled as he angled himself in front of Hermione so she could hurriedly pulled her dress back up.

“What are you so embarrassed about? This is like the-” Blaise paused to count on his fingers, “-eighth time I’ve caught you two canoodling at some kind of public event.”

“Canoodling? What is this, third year? And maybe you wouldn’t have to endure catching us if you would mind your own damn business!” Draco snapped as he tucked himself away.

Blaise’s reply was cut off as a familiar figure came up behind him.

The entire manor was then promptly filled with the indignant screech of Pansy Parkinson.

“DRACO! AT MY ENGAGEMENT PARTY!?”

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy scowled with growing aggravation as he bounced his leg and stared at the back of his wife’s head.

Four weeks. It had been four weeks since Hermione had entered this ultra-hyper-focus-on-work-and-nothing-else mode, and hardly glanced his way for more than a few seconds at a time.

…Alright, so maybe he was exaggerating a bit, but the fact remained that a significant amount of her recent attention had been dedicated to her work and not much else. And in Draco’s superior opinion, he’d handled it rather maturely for the most part.

He’d been patient. He’d been supportive. He understood how important this was to her, knew she’d been striving toward this goal for years, and he’d be damned if he ever denied her happiness or didn’t acknowledge her hard work.

He’d bitten his tongue in the mornings when he woke with her side of the bed already cold, held back his complaints when she worked through lunch, and refrained from pushing at nights when she collapsed into bed with utter exhaustion.

If being a good husband was a school subject, Draco was certain he’d have O’s across the board for his understanding and downright pleasant behavior these past weeks.

But goddammit, even an A+ husband such as himself had his limits, and his patience had never been very abundant to begin with.

Tomorrow, the bill she’d spent her blood, sweat, and tears drafting would finally be passed, and then they’d both be taking a few vacation days to lounge at his family’s villa in Greece. They’d planned a congratulatory dinner for tonight with Potter and his wife, ignoring Hermione’s insistence that they were celebrating too soon.

His brilliant little bookworm was the only one that wasn’t one hundred percent convinced the bill would pass tomorrow, despite literally everyone assuring her otherwise; which was why, upon returning home early so she could supposedly rest and mentally prepare herself for tomorrow, Hermione had instead retreated to the study to double, triple, and quadruple check the bill that she’d already perfected ten times over.

That had been the final straw to obliterate Draco’s fragile patience. He’d fully intended to hog her to himself all afternoon – even took a half day to assure it – but of course, she just couldn’t step away from her precious work for a few measly hours.

Even after he’d stalked into the study and plopped onto the couch behind her, hoping his presence would distract her, she just continued to pour over the extensive document. She’d not even done him the courtesy of acknowledging his presence, making Draco fume silently.

He couldn’t stand being ignored. He would tolerate it no longer. Tonight, she was his.

“Hermione,” he tried.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

Draco clenched his jaw. If she didn’t acknowledge him in the next five seconds, he was going to toss her over his shoulder, carry her to their bedroom, and spend the rest of the evening and the entire night making her acknowledge him.

"Granger.”

Finally, Hermione visibly startled and whirled around. “Oh, Draco! You gave me a fright. How long have you been there?”

Draco’s eye twitched. So she hadn’t even known he was here, had she? He honestly wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

“Long enough,” he bit out. “Don’t you think you’ve reviewed that thing well enough at this point? If you stare at it much longer, your eyes may permanently cross.”

Hermione rolled said eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s impossible. And no, I haven’t. There’s a paragraph in the second article that could use some clean up, and a sentence in the section regarding wolfsbane distribution could be worded better-”

“Granger,” Draco interrupted, exasperated, “You’ve been ‘revising’ and ‘cleaning up’ the bloody thing to the point that a Scourgify wouldn’t make any difference on it. The longer you stare at it, the more you’re just going to find things ‘wrong’–” he exaggerated with air quotes, “-with it. Soon, you’ll work yourself up into a panic and start nattering on about how it’s not good enough, even though it fucking is. Come on Granger, you need a break.”

Hermione pursed her lips, looking mildly chastised, but unwilling to yield. “You don’t get it Draco,” she said, shaking her head, “the wellbeing of all Werewolves depends on this being passed. I’ve spent so long pushing for this, and if it’s overturned tomorrow, I might never get another chance! I have to be sure it’s perfect.”

Draco rested his head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “Hermione, the old toads in the Wizengamot would have to be literal fucking idiots to not approve it. You’ve done enough drafting, lobbying, and fundraising to make any politician orgasmic with glee. You’re a fucking war heroine, best friends with The-Idiot-Who-Wouldn’t-Die, and you’ve got the confirmed support of eighty-three percent of the current seats. Eighty-three percent, Granger! The chances of my Great Aunt Walburga coming back to life to declare her undying love for muggles are higher than that bill being denied! The beasts will get their precious rights, and you’ll be heralded as the almighty hero and savior of werewolf kind.”

Hermione scowled lightly at that last statement, but the pink flush staining her cheeks took away from the seriousness of the look.

Draco smirked. Four years of marriage, and he could still make her blush.

“Maybe…but I can’t afford to be presumptuous.”

His smirk fell with an audible groan. “Oh, come on-”

“I’m serious, Draco. It’s true I have the support of a lot of the council…but there are still a few of the old, influential families that hate what I’m trying to do. I’ve dealt with them for years, and I know how they work. If there’s even the slightest imperfection, they’ll question it. If there’s any possible loophole, they’ll exploit it. They always play dirty when they’re determined to have their way. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit absent lately-”

“A bit!?” 

“-but there’s too many things that could go wrong if I overlook even the slightest detail! That’s why it has to be absolutely, unquestionably perfect. I’ll have a break this evening when we see Harry and Ginny, but for now, the bill still requires my attention.”

“You know what else requires your attention? Your handsome, supportive, exceedingly patient husband! Have you not neglected me enough?” Draco growled.

Hermione scoffed. “Don’t be childish Draco, just because I’ve been working more doesn’t mean I’ve neglected you-”

“You haven’t kissed me for two days!” he snapped.

She furrowed her brow. “Of course I have, I kissed you just this morning-”

“No, I kissed you. And it was hardly even a peck!”

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes at her needy husband. “Fine.” She briskly stood and marched over to him. Draco smiled, tilting his head up in anticipation. Grabbing her husband’s face, Hermione leaned down and planted her lips firmly on his. Draco immediately grabbed the back of her head to keep her from pulling away before taking control of the kiss, biting her lower lip to make her gasp.

Hermione’s head went fuzzy as he slipped his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. He devoured her hungrily, the almost desperate manner of the kiss causing her knees to weaken. The Gryffindor's eyes fluttered in wonder as her heart hammered against her ribcage. Kissing Draco was always wonderful, but this…it almost felt like the very first time they’d ever snogged. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this.

Come to think of it, when was the last time she let him kiss her like this? Even after four years of marriage, she and Draco had always put in effort to keep that spark of passion alive with overall success, so surely it couldn’t have been that long…could it?

It took Draco’s hand on her bum to make Hermione realize that she was straddling him, and when he squeezed, her muddled brain finally remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She broke the kiss to speak, but her husband was not deterred, tilting his head to trail open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

“Draco, oh, not now…” Hermione breathed.

“Yes, now,” he growled as he nipped her earlobe, tightening his hold.

She bit her lip as arousal pooled in her lower belly, but her Gryffindor stubbornness prevailed. “Come tomorrow, we’ll have the whole week to do this, but right now, I have to finish reviewing the bill.” She managed to tear herself from his hold, but her efforts proved fruitless when Draco snagged her hips and yanked her back down into his lap, her back to his chest.

“Hermione.”

Her name emerged as a rumble deep in his throat, and she shuddered as the sound caused a fresh gush of arousal to soak her knickers.

“Draco, stop it-”

Her demand was abruptly cut off when Draco shoved two fingers into her mouth. Hermione’s squeal of indignance tapered off into a low whine when he slipped a hand under her jumper to grope her bare breast. “No bra? Are you sure you want me to stop?” Draco whispered huskily, tweaking an erect nipple. Hermione arched her back, the pleasure radiating down her spine.

Fuck…had it always felt this good? Though she didn’t know why, her body felt thrice as responsive as usual.

She pulled his fingers from her mouth by his wrist and said, “Draco, please…later. Have to – oh – get back to work.”

Finally, his hand fell away as he rested his forehead on her shoulder with a weary sigh.

Hermione felt a little bad…but how could she sit here and enjoy herself when the lives of hundreds of werewolves were resting on her shoulders?

“Hermione,” Draco croaked, “do you realize it’s been almost three weeks since we had sex?”

Her brain skidded to a screeching halt. She automatically opened her mouth to retort, but upon thinking it over, she realized with growing shock that she actually couldn’t recall them being intimate lately. The most recent occasion she remembered was when he’d cornered her in the shower – nearly three weeks ago.

Seeming to sense her train of thought, Draco sighed again and kissed her shoulder. “I know this is important to you. I know you feel responsible, like every single werewolf in the world needs you right now…but I need you too, Hermione. You may be their rising hero, but you’re my wife. I fucking miss you.”

Shame caused a lump to form in Hermione’s throat. She always knew her penchant for things like study and work occasionally caused her to get lost in them and lose sight of the world around her – but she hadn’t realized just how lost she’d been lately. The past few weeks had been a blur of paperwork, meetings, and endless drafts. There were a few vague recollections of Draco forcing food in front of her on nights where she brought her work to the table and carrying her to bed after she’d fallen asleep in the study, but that was it.

Had she even thanked him once for his unwavering support? Had she taken the time ask him how his day was, or give him a goodnight kiss, or simply talk to him outside of vague grunts and hums of acknowledgment?

Eyes stinging, Hermione craned her neck and met his lips in a fierce, apologetic kiss. Draco held her tight enough to make breathing a chore, but it somehow wasn’t enough.

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, lower lip trembling. “I just got so caught up and I – I never meant to ignore you like that. Please forgive me.”

Draco laughed airily, swiping his thumb across her cheek. “Alright, alright, I hear you. Don’t cry now, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Sorry,” she sniffed.

He smiled softly, moving in to capture her lips once more. Hermione melted into him, moaning as he leisurely explored her mouth. He shuddered and ground his hips up against hers, allowing her to feel his arousal. Her insides clenched longingly at the feel of it, practically singing at the thought of it being buried within her.

Hermione rocked her hips against the bulge, drawing a hiss from Draco. “Fuck…take this off,” he ordered, tugging the hem of her jumper. The Gryffindor obliged, tossing the garment away so that it landed on the desk amongst the papers. For the first time in weeks, work was the farthest thing from her mind.

Hermione sighed as the cold air caressed her tender peaks, leaving them stiff and begging for his attention. Draco grasped each perfect breast in his large hands, pinching, pulling, and rolling her nipples until she cried out with need.

The weeks of unintentional abstinence had left her whole body achingly sensitive, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione wondered how she’d possibly gone so long without her husband’s touch. Three weeks, for Merlin’s sake! They hadn’t gone that long without sex since they initially became active! She silently promised to spend the entirety of their mini-vacation making it up to him.

“Oh Draco,” she moaned as she continued to grind against his clothed erection. His hands gripped her waist to bring her desperate movements to a halt, and she whined at the loss of friction.

“Hermione, you keep doing that, and I’m going to ruin these trousers,” Draco panted.

She bit her lip and craned her neck to look back at him. “Can’t have that. I need you to fill me up.”

He groaned loudly before pulling frantically at her jeans, nearly tearing the button off in attempt to free her of them. Hermione lifted off his lap just long enough to shimmy out of her jeans and knickers, leaving them in a pile at their feet. Once she was settled back in his lap, Draco slid his fingers along her lower lips, breath hitching at how wet she’d become. Hermione gasped as her husband dipped two fingers inside her without preamble, her hungry pussy practically sucking them in.

“Oh fuck, you’re so ready for me, love,” Draco growled.

She keened as his long fingers pleasured her cunt while his thumb worked her clit, sending her too high too fast. “Now, Draco…need you right now!” Hermione cried as she tried to stave off her orgasm, knowing it would feel far better to come on his cock instead of his fingers.

Normally he would tease her a bit longer, but after weeks of nothing but his hand for relief, Draco was desperate to feel his wife wrapped around him. Hands shaking with desperation, he unzipped his trousers and withdrew his cock. Hermione reached blindly behind her until she grasped him, guided him to her entrance, and slid down without difficulty.

They both moaned aloud, the sensation of being one again after being apart for so long almost too much to handle.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, you’re tight!” Draco hissed through clenched teeth, fingers digging into her hips. Hermione could only whimper in response as she rocked her hips forward, the tip of his cock caressing her g-spot and making her see stars.

“Dra…co…” she choked, feeling her climax approaching at an alarming rate. Her husband reached around to rub her clit once, twice, then she was shattering around him with a hoarse cry.

“Fuck! I think that’s a new record!” Draco said with a breathless laugh.

“S-Shut up…fuck me,” Hermione gasped out.

“With pleasure, my darling bride,” the Slytherin growled as he thrust up into her. The tightness in his loins told him he wouldn’t last long himself, but he was determined to make her come once more. With that thought, he set a steady pace, hips meeting hers with purpose as he guided her onto his cock again and again.

Hermione braced her hands behind her on Draco’s chest as she bounced on his lap, eyes rolled back into her head and mouth open in a silent cry. They’d done this position only a handful of times, and it had been quite a while since their last go at it. As a result, Hermione had forgotten how intense it could be; the angle gave him perfect access to her g-spot, and she swore she could feel the head of his cock hitting her cervix with each thrust.

Along with her body’s heightened sensitivity, Hermione wasn’t sure if she wanted to beg him to stop, or beg him to fuck her harder.

“Shit…love, I’m gonna come,” Draco panted into her ear. Hermione could only gasp in response as he slammed her down on him one more time before climaxing with a strangled groan. She felt his cock pressing against her womb as his release flowed deep inside her, and before her brain could process it, Hermione was coming all over again.

"Ohhh!"

She practically screamed through her orgasm, the overwhelming pleasure seeming to clamp down on every cell in her body. She vaguely registered Draco’s voice in her ear, whispering that she was a good girl for him, that she was his, that he loved her, and that she was doing so well as her body trembled violently around him.

It seemed like ages before Hermione’s earth-shattering orgasm subsided, leaving her to slump against her husband, boneless and sated.

Their labored breathing mingled as he held her to him, peppering kisses across her neck and cheek. “Fuck, Hermione. That was…fuck,” said her very articulate husband. The Gryffindor tried to answer, but her brain felt too muddied and shagged to form a proper sentence.

Draco chuckled at her lack of response. “That good, eh?”

“…Hnngh,” was all Hermione could manage. Her body was positively thrumming with satisfaction, though her insides did feel a bit tender. She lazily stroked her abdomen, adoring the lingering warmth from his seed.

“…Hermione?” Draco questioned again, his tone now tinged with concern. He kissed her sweaty forehead, pushing her wild curls out of her face. “Darling? Was it too much?”

Hermione smiled a little at his fretting. She finally managed to peel her eyes open to send him a reassuring glance. “No…mm, was bloody perfect,” she moaned.

Draco smirked. “I know I’ve shagged Hermione Granger well when she can’t even speak proper English.”

Hermione swatted at him half-heartedly. “Whatever, you wonderful prat.”

They shared a tender kiss before her gaze drifted back to her work-laden desk.

Draco’s chest rumbled in warning as he followed her gaze. “I swear to Merlin woman, if the word ‘work’ so much as passes your lips-”

“Actually, I was going to ask how much longer we have before we need to meet Harry and Ginny,” Hermione interrupted.

Draco kissed her shoulder. “Hmm…another hour or so? I haven’t exactly been keeping track of time sitting in here, Granger.”

“Good.” His wife climbed out of his lap, visibly shaky on her feet. Draco quickly stood with her, grasping her shoulders to steady her. He quirked a questioning brow as she looked up at him with a glint of mischief. “I’m going to suck you off at least twice before we leave. It will be part two of many apology orgasms I give you for my behavior these past weeks.”

Draco’s eyes bugged comically, mouth gaping like a fish’s before snapping closed with a harsh gulp. Hermione giggled at his adorable reaction, loving that she could still catch him by surprise with her bold, filthy mouth after four years of marriage.

His gaze quickly darkened, then he was swooping his glorious wife into his arms, wondering what phenomenal deed he did in a previous life to deserve this woman.

“Never let it be said I ever denied my wife her wishes,” Draco said huskily as he carried her to their bedroom. Hermione laughed breathlessly and snuggled against him, vowing to never go so long without him again if she could help it. Draco couldn’t stop himself from smiling along with her.

It was good to have his wife back.

Chapter Text

“What have we here?”

Hermione grit her teeth at the familiar drawl. “Not now, Malfoy.”

As usual, she was dutifully ignored as the annoying blond swiped her book out of her hands. She snapped her gaze up to meet Draco Malfoy’s smirking face as he dangled her book before her.

“Give that back!” Hermione demanded.

The infuriating prat laughed. “Sitting alone and reading about advanced alchemic theory on a weekend, Granger? How very sad. Not that I expected anything else from Hogwarts’ number one swot.”

“I happen to be studying for my potions NEWT, Malfoy! Now kindly give that back and bugger off!” Hermione growled, standing up to make a grab for the book.

Malfoy, being quite a bit taller than she, easily held it out of reach. “NEWTS are four months away, Granger. You should live a little,” the Slytherin taunted.  Hermione glared at him, persistently trying to steal her book back to no avail. Malfoy laughed heartily as he continued to yank it away from her.

“Ugh! Honestly Malfoy, are you a second year!? Give. It. Back!” Hermione punctuated each word with a tiny jump as she attempted to reach the book. Finally, her fingers latched onto the cover, and she quickly snatched it from his grip with a triumphant shout.

“You know, you could have just Accio’d it from me. Are you sure you’re the Brightest Witch of our Age?” Malfoy mocked, staring down at her teasingly.

Hermione huffed. “As I’ve said, I don’t know who gave me that stupid title. Besides, I managed to get it back without having to use magic, so really, that makes me better by default, don’t you think?”

Malfoy whistled. “Brightest witch, indeed! And so humble, too!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear about being humble from you of all people, Malfoy. Now if you’ll kindly leave me in peace, I have a bit more studying I have to squeeze in before breakfast.”

But of course, Malfoy didn’t leave. He quirked a challenging brow at her and said, “You really want to waste the day studying, Granger?” He tsked, taking a step closer. “Now why would you want to do that-”

Suddenly, Hermione was surrounded by the scent of spearmint and green apples as Draco caged her against the table with his arms.

“-when there are so many other things you could be enjoying?”

Hermione gasped as his tongue swiped her ear. “M-Malfoy-” she said breathily, relaxing into his hold. Draco kissed down her jaw, tongue darting out to taste her skin. He nuzzled against her neck and sucked at her pulse point, drawing a heavy sigh from the Gryffindor.

“Malfoy…not here…” Hermione moaned, half-heartedly attempting to push him away.

“Oh come on, Granger,” Draco purred against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Don’t tell me, in all the time you spend in this library, that you’ve never once thought about what it would be like-” he nibbled on her lobe, “-if someone were to lay you out on one of these tables-” he swept her hair over her shoulder, “-or shove you up against the shelves-” his lips brushed down her neck, “-and pound that pretty little cunt of yours until you forgot your own name?”

Hermione’s knees went weak, and she subconsciously tilted her head to expose her neck better.        

Draco chuckled. “Thought so,” he whispered against her skin.

“B-But,” Hermione was embarrassed at how raspy her voice had grown, “we’re in public. Someone could see us.”

Draco smiled as he kissed her neck. “Granger…it’s seven thirty in the morning on a Sunday. I’d bet my entire inheritance that we are the only people in this library right now.”

Hermione bit her lip, missing how his eyes darkened at the action. “Madame Pince is here...somewhere.”

Draco sighed. “Ah yes, the ruthless old bag of a librarian, how could I forget? Very well then.” He withdrew his wand and cast a Notice-Me-Not charm, followed by a Muffliato. “There now. Satisfied, Granger?”

Hermione looked down indecisively, undoubtedly tempted, but hesitant to vandalize the ancient library of Hogwarts. He’d never propositioned her in such a public setting before. They normally restricted their activities to the Head Student’s common room. Once and while there might be an empty classroom or a broom closet during nightly rounds, or that one particularly memorable occasion where they utilized the Prefect’s bath. This was completely new territory, and Hermione had no idea how to feel about it.

Suddenly, Draco’s hand snaked beneath her skirt and started gently rubbing her clit through her knickers.

Hermione whimpered, nearly collapsing against the table.

“Come on, Granger…” he whispered against her ear, “…it’s our last year. Let’s have some fun before we graduate, yeah?”

The book slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor, forgotten. Draco grinned.

“Good girl,” he growled before claiming her mouth. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, moaning as his tongue snaked past her lips.

Gods, why did he always taste so good?

Both their robes were pushed from their shoulders to join the book on the floor. Draco worked to free Hermione’s shirt buttons while she slid her hands beneath his Slytherin jumper. He groaned as she raked her fingers across his abs, no doubt leaving scratch marks for him to admire later. He pulled her shirt open, revealing her lacy white bra. Wasting no time, he yanked one of the cups aside and leaned down to take the nipple in his mouth, suckling on the hardened peak until she writhed.

“Draco…”  Hermione moaned, his first name slipping out before she could stop herself. He looked up at her and winked, his silver eyes almost tender as he gazed into her own.

Hermione looked away.

Such an expression meant nothing. This meant nothing. People had casual sex all the time. That’s all this was. That’s all it had ever been since it started last year, prompted by a storm of hormones and tension. This thing between them, whatever it was, didn’t mean anything.

Draco pushed her down so she lay flat on the table, and Hermione automatically wrapped her legs around him. They snogged madly as he ground his erection against her aching cunt, making her moan into his mouth.

“Please,” she gasped before she could stop herself.

Draco smirked as he slowly, deliberately, repeated the movement, reveling in the whimper she gave. “Please what, Granger?” the Slytherin whispered as he continued to dry hump her at an agonizing pace.

Hermione arched her back and stifled a cry of frustration. “Touch me, Malfoy! Please!”

Draco swiped his tongue across her lips. “Touch you where, Granger? You need to be more specific than that.”

Hermione growled, grabbing his hand and pressing it right against her quim. “Here, Malfoy. Touch me right now, or I’ll make you fucking regret it.”

Draco shuddered above her. “Fuck…you’re sexy when you make empty threats.”

Hermione was about to show him just how 'empty'  her threats were when his fingers slid inside her knickers to caress and tease her throbbing clit.

“Yes,” she gasped, tossing her head back. He rubbed her in quick, tight circles, barely giving her a moment to get used to his touch.

“So wet for me, Granger. I’ve hardly started touching you, and already, your sweet little cunt is practically dripping for me. What a good little muggleborn you are.”

Hermione keened at his filthy praise, biting her fingers to stifle her moans.

“No no, Granger,” Draco purred, pulling her hand away. He then slid a finger inside her, making her cry out. “I want to hear every single sound that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours.” He added a second finger, pumping in and out of her wet heat with practiced ease.

Hermione sometimes hated that he knew her body so well; but what she hated even more was how she knew that her next partner, whoever and whenever that may be, would more than likely fall flat in comparison. She hated that anyone that came after, regardless of experience or feelings, would inevitably be compared to Draco sodding Malfoy.

Pompous, pretentious, haughty, handsome, brilliant, witty, infuriatingly wonderful Draco Malfoy.

Hermione choked when something cold and metallic brushed against her clit. Draco paused, then smirked as he pressed his signet ring firmer against her sensitive button. “Oh god!” she gasped, bucking her hips against his hand. It wasn’t the first time Draco had used his ring on her like this, but she still couldn’t believe how bloody good the thing felt on her clit.

“Harder, Malfoy…more!” Hermione demanded. Draco licked his lips as he obliged her, his breathing noticeably heavier. The Gryffindor’s lustful cries engulfed them as the Malfoy signet ring, the precious piece worn by every head Malfoy for a millennia of pureblood generations, was used to make the Wizarding World’s most famous muggleborn come.

“Malfoy!” Hermione moaned as her orgasm crashed over her, coming hard on Draco’s fingers.

“Good girl, Granger,” the Slytherin hummed with a self-satisfied grin. He then stuck his soaked fingers into his mouth to lick them clean, making Hermione blush. Draco leaned down to kiss her again, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She felt him slide her drenched knickers down her legs – cute striped things with lace and a bow – and he smirked against her lips as he not-so-subtly pocketed them.

In the past year, Hermione’s collection of knickers had evolved from simple, single-shade cotton to colorful lace and silks. Not for him, of course. She was eighteen now, legally an adult, so it was only natural that she’d want to upgrade her wardrobe a little. Plus, she had to keep buying new pairs anyway, because he kept stealing them! The prat always waited to swipe them after he’d brought her to a mind-melting orgasm, because she was always too exhausted or distracted to reprimand him.

The familiar sound of a loosening belt drew Hermione from her thoughts, and she gave a shaky exhale upon feeling the head of his cock against her entrance. Draco pressed a hand to her abdomen and muttered a hasty contraceptive charm, then sunk into her with a pleased hiss.

"Fuck, Granger…do you feel what you do to me?”

Hermione moaned as he threw her legs over his shoulders, allowing him to thrust deeply inside her. She gripped the edge of the table with one hand and buried the other in his hair. Draco rocked his hips steadily, the slow pace letting her feel every inch of him as he slid inside her warm, wet cunt.

It was amazing. It was torture. Hermione craved and abhorred it.

Their gazes met unintentionally, his silver eyes wide and soft as he stared down at her, making her heart clench painfully.

Thinking quickly, she yanked him down and kissed him fiercely. “What’s the – ah – matter, Malfoy? Too tired to – mm – fuck me properly?” she goaded against his lips.

She hated it when he started out gently. Hermione didn’t want gentle. If he was gentle with her, it gave the illusion that he cared, and she knew that just couldn’t be true.

She couldn’t quite remember who had reached first when this whole affair began – but it didn’t matter. He’d never once indicated that their arrangement went deeper than sex, and neither had she. Last year had been stressful for both of them; she with the exhausting rollercoaster that was her relationship with Ron and trying to constantly reassure poor Harry who was always stuck in the middle of their drama, and he with his own numerous shallow reconciliations and explosive fallouts with Pansy Parkinson as well as the mounting pressure of responsibility from his parents.

Their dalliance was primarily grounded in stress relief, along with possibly a bit of petty revenge and teenage rebellion on the side. He used her, she used him. That’s all it was.

It didn’t matter that she’d not had any sort of non-platonic interaction with anyone else since it began, or that her feelings for Ron had all but fizzled out in the past year.

It didn’t matter that she’d also not seen Draco even speak to Pansy lately, when at one point he was impossible to find without the snobby tart hanging all over him.

It didn’t matter that their rivalry had changed from venom and malicious arguments to quick, playful banter.

It didn’t matter that after their regular after-hour fucks, they sometimes spent the rest of patrol talking easily about anything and everything as though they’d been friends for years.

It didn’t matter that she occasionally found herself wishing he lay in bed with her at night, or that she could do something as simple as ask him to walk her to class or accompany her to Hogsmead, like all the other girls did with their boyfriends. Because Draco Malfoy was not her boyfriend, and this thing between them meant nothing.

…If she said it to herself enough…surely she’d eventually believe it.

Draco shuddered above her, brows furrowing until he looked almost pained.

Hermione was not dissuaded by his hesitance. “C’mon Malfoy,” she panted, “don’t hold back. Fuck me harder. Mm, I want you to pound my pussy with your – AH!” She was cut off when Draco slammed into her, rocking the table with his efforts. Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head, breathy whimpers of “yes, yes, oh Malfoy, gods yes,” tearing from her throat as he plowed her mercilessly.

“You naughty girl, begging for my cock like that. Fuck, what would the rest of the school say if they knew swotty Head Girl Hermione Granger likes to have her tight little cunt pounded in the library? Filthy little slut you are, yeah?” Draco growled, gripping her hips with bruising force.

“Oh fuck, yes!” Hermione whined, loving the dirty talk that sailed so easily from his perfect lips.

He chuckled huskily. “That’s what I thought. But tell me, Granger… is it only my cock that you’re a slut for? Or are there others?”

A fissure of confusion stabbed through the arousal. Hermione blinked rapidly, meeting his crumpled expression. “W-Wha-” she stuttered, but was cut off with a hiss when he started rubbing her clit in torturous, slow circles, contrasting with his punishing thrusts.

“Well, Granger?” Draco panted. “Tell me! Are there other blokes you’ve been spreading these pretty legs for? Finnegan, for example?” he practically sneered the Irishman’s name.

Hermione’s mouth opened, stunned. It sounded like…he was calling her a cheap slag! And not in the way she enjoyed.

“What, I – Seamus isn’t-” she stammered with utter bafflement, completely unsure where this had come from, or why he was singling out Seamus of all people.

Draco growled and rammed into her particularly hard, making Hermione nearly scream as she threw her head back against the blinding pleasure and hint of pain. “Don’t you dare speak another man’s name while I fuck you!” the Slytherin hissed.

“I-I don’t – I can’t-” Hermione’s endorphin-addled brain struggled to comprehend the situation, and for a moment, the Gryffindor found she was almost afraid. He’d never done anything like this before.

Seeming to realize she couldn’t answer him while having her brains fucked out, Draco slowed his pace, but the angry, desperate gleam in his eyes remained. “Tell me, Hermione! Tell me you didn’t fuck that Irish git!”

Hermione’s head whirled, both from the rare use of her first name and his wild assumption that she’d had sex with Seamus Finnegan. “I-I’ve never slept with Seamus! W-We’re just – ungh – friends!”

Draco’s brow relaxed minutely, but it seemed he still wasn’t done.

“But have there been others? Hm? Have you been stringing me along all this time, having a great laugh at my expense?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Hermione’s eyes widened, the words like a bat to her head.

Stringing him along? What did he mean?

He was acting like she – like she’d betrayed him somehow! Or like…he was jealous.

The Gryffindor blinked rapidly at the ceiling, feeling as though she’d slipped into a bizarre dream. But the constant pulse of pleasure between her legs told her otherwise.

“I-I’m not-” Hermione choked, feeling her eyes sting from the emotional whirlwind. The tightening coil in her abdomen signaling an incoming orgasm stole her words, and her back arched as she hovered upon the edge –

"Don't!"

A sudden harsh smack to her arse made her yelp, stealing away her climax. “Don’t you dare come yet!” Draco snarled, “Not until you answer me!”

Hermione whimpered with part arousal and part fear. Her lover’s expression had twisted into an all-too familiar sneer that she hadn’t seen since their fourth year.

“I haven’t – with anyone else! Since last year it’s – fuck! – it’s only been you!” she sobbed out.

His pace faltered. She didn’t notice Draco had been biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood until he released it. “R-Really?” he breathed. Hermione’s head spun as she observed the genuine relief in his gaze. He drew in a shaky breath and said, “t-then…it’s only me that you want?”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Draco’s expression fell at her hesitance, and Hermione was shaken by the vulnerability in his eyes.

However, it only took a moment for him to school his expression, and he suddenly started fucking her again with renewed fervor.

Hermione’s brain felt like it was going to break. She didn’t understand what was happening. Couldn’t comprehend his words and actions. Didn’t know what he bloody wanted from her. She could only clutch onto his clothes and cry out into the empty library as he fucked her within an inch of her life.

“Do you feel that, Granger?” Draco gasped. “Only I can fuck you like this. Only I know how to make you feel this good. It’s me that knows you the best! Not Weasley, not Finnegan, not anybody but me! And you know it. You know it’s true, Granger!”

His voice sounded far away to Hermione, her jumbled brain agreeing but failing to form a response.

“Say it’s me that you want, Granger. Say you only want me!” Draco demanded, his voice thick with urgency and desperation.

“I-I-” she whimpered, eyes squeezed shut with anguish.

The truth was she did want him…but how could she tell him that? He couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

So why was he asking so insistently? Was he doing it just to mess with her? She thought he’d changed from the snobby little bully he’d been as a child. Nothing added up…

Hermione sobbed as she felt her climax approaching again, the coil in her belly so tight it almost hurt. Draco felt it too. Just like he’d claimed, he knew her too well.

“Granger…” His broken voice caused her eyes to open against her will. Draco stared down at her intently, imploringly. “Tell me, Granger. Please.”

Please…

The word rattled around in her skull as though he’d shouted it at her.

Draco Malfoy never said please.

Before she knew it, Hermione felt her mouth opening.

No, don’t…

But her brain was no longer in control. Perhaps it never had been, not when it came to him.

“I want you, Draco! I only want you! I’ve wanted you for so long!” The confession came pouring from her lips, and Hermione was helpless to stop it.

Draco’s entire body trembled.

With one last swipe to her oversensitive clit, Hermione screamed as the most intense orgasm of her life swept through her. Draco held her close as she shook, burying his face against her neck as he followed after her.

"Hermione!” he choked, shooting his seed deep inside her.

They lay completely motionless for several moments, panting heavily against the other.

Slowly, the pleasant fog cleared from her brain, and reality set in.

Hermione felt tears pouring from her eyes, the library’s ceiling blurred above her. 

What…what just happened? What had she done? What had she said?

A heavy, pleased sigh rumbled in her ear right before she felt a pair of lips on her jaw. “Mm…Hermione…”

 She tensed so hard that it hurt, and shoved him off her without warning. Draco landed with a harsh, “Oomph!” as she pushed off the table and tried to escape. But her weakened legs protested, causing her to fall with even less grace in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Granger! Hermione, what-” His hand grasped her arm, but she harshly flinched away.

“No!” Hermione sniffled, shoulders shaking with repressed sobs. “Don’t – don’t touch me.”

“H-Hermione…” Draco whimpered, pained and confused.

She hurriedly buttoned her shirt and wrapped her robe tightly around her, not bothering to put it on properly.

She didn’t know what to do. She was lost. She felt hurt and humiliated. How could he take advantage of her like that?

Hermione tried to summon her anger, tried to convince herself to turn around and scream at him until her throat burned…but the thought of facing him made her stomach twist.

“W-What is wrong with you? That was cruel…” she mumbled, curling in on herself.

“…Hermione,” he rasped.

She flinched at his continued use of her name.

“Hermione…fuck, wait a minute, I-” She heard him rake his nails through his hair. “O-Okay, alright, I won’t touch you, I swear. B-But at least look at me. Talk to me. Please, Hermione.”

There was that word again.

Please.

Twice in one day.

Steeling herself, Hermione slowly made herself turn.

She was unprepared for the look of utter devastation on his face; as though he’d just fully realized what had occurred between them, and that he could very well lose her if he didn’t do something. Draco’s hands jerked in her direction, but he kept his word and didn’t touch her. Instead, he dug his fingers into his legs to try and cease their shaking.

Hermione blinked dumbly. She’d never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry,” Draco blurted, making her jaw drop. Draco Malfoy rarely said please…but he apologized even less.

She almost wanted to look out a window to check for flying pigs.

Draco stood up suddenly and began to pace, fingers pulling at his hair. “I didn’t want – what I mean to say is – fuck, I never intended for it to go that far! I just – I saw you alone with Finnegan in an empty classroom yesterday, and I got so fucking angry. I wanted to – I had to know how you felt about me before I imploded because not being sure has been killing me!”

Hermione tilted her head, dazed. “M-Malfoy…what are you…why are you acting like this?”

Draco whirled around, sending her a puzzled glance. “Acting – acting like what, Granger?”

The Gryffindor gestured vaguely, as though the answer should be obvious. “Like you…care about me. Like you have – feelings for me.”

Draco’s expensive leather shoes gave a harsh squeak as his pacing ground to a halt. He studied her silently for several tense moments, mouth gaping like a fish’s. Then, slowly, realization seemed to dawn as his expression grew horrified.

"W-Wait-” he choked, stumbling backwards. He grasped the table to steady himself, rubbing his face furiously. “Are you – are you fucking-”

Hermione jumped when he suddenly banged his head down on the table, giving a muffled, “Are you fucking kidding me!?”

Draco sprang back up like a puppet being pulled by its strings, fixing her with an incredulous glance. “You don’t know!? You haven’t figured it out!?”

Hermione bristled, sick and tired of his fluctuating attitude and mysteries. “Figured what out, Malfoy!? Why don’t you just say it instead of giving all these vague hints and expecting me to understand!”

Draco gave a pained groaned, banging his head on the table once more. “Oh you – you – you stupid, barmy, completely daft-”

He collapsed to floor again, turning his hysterical gaze sharply upon her. “I’m fucking in love with you, you stupid bint!”

Hermione’s mouth snapped closed with an audible clack.

“No you’re not.”

Draco’s jaw unhinged at her blatant dismissal.

“You, you – you can’t be,” she stuttered, hands beginning to tremble anew.

The Slytherin barked a manic laugh. “Oh, I can’t be, is it!? And what, pray tell, makes you so damn certain of that!?”

Hermione shook her head frantically. “B-Because you – because I – well, it’s not like you’ve ever implied you wanted my company for anything other than sex!”

Draco gawked at her. “We talk all the time! We’ve even studied together! Without having sex!”

 She pursed her lips, seeing his point. “Well yes, but…that doesn’t mean you felt something for me! I mean, you’ve never said or done anything to imply-”

“I sent you bloody roses on your birthday!” Draco exclaimed, interrupting her.

Hermione snapped her gaze to his. “That was you!? I-I thought Ron had sent them as some attempt to – to make amends, or something!”

He reeled back, visibly offended. “You thought Weasley gave them to you!? Did you even confirm that with him!?”

Hermione blushed, averting her gaze. “N-No, I…suppose I just let myself assume.” Draco glared at her, the look making her stiffen and reach for her defenses again. “B-But even so, you could have sent a card or something to make it clear!”

“I did,” Draco retaliated through clenched teeth.

Hermione blinked, withering a bit more. “Oh, I – I  must not have seen it before I threw…them…away…” she admitted, voice getting progressively smaller. She wrapped her arms around her legs, practically feeling Draco’s glare on her.

“Alright,” she sighed, “I admit, that was my fault. I’m sorry I assumed. But Draco… if you really did – do – feel that way about me, then…why have you never said anything? And why did you keep sleeping with me after that, since I never gave you an answer?”

Draco ran a hand down his face, releasing a weary sigh. “I thought you were undecided. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to push you at first. I…” He trailed off for a moment, biting his lip as he gathered his thoughts. “I thought that maybe you felt the same. I’d sometimes catch you looking at me in class, or think you sounded disappointed every time we had to part for the night.”

Hermione flushed. She’d never realized how well he was able to read her.

Draco leaned his head against the leg of the table. “I figured that you were conflicted. I know our past together is rather…complicated. And I know your friends don’t think well of me, nor do I of them, for that matter.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, that’s certainly a two-way street, isn’t it? I mean, what would your friends think if you started dating a mudblood?”  

Draco’s eyes snapped up, appalled. “Don’t call yourself that!”

Hermione shrugged. “I’m being realistic, Malfoy. You can’t tell me you haven’t been having similar thoughts. You’ve never once approached me in public, after all. Honestly, what was I supposed to think?”

His eyes narrowed. “I asked you to Hogsmead two weeks ago.”

She blinked.

“You were…serious about that?”

Draco gave her a deadpan stare. “Yes, Granger.”

Hermione shrunk. “I… I thought you were joking. Sorry.”

The back of his head met the table leg with a thump. “Fuck. And all this time, I thought I was being obvious. Either I’m absolute shite at communicating, or I’ve gone and fallen for the densest witch in England.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Hermione found herself looking back on many of their past interactions with new eyes, wondering just how much she’d missed.

Or…maybe how much she’d blatantly disregarded.

“Why were you so certain I couldn’t have feelings for you?” Draco asked tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Her brows furrowed. “B-Because… you’re Draco Malfoy. Heir of one of the oldest, most powerful pureblood families. And I’m Hermione Granger…Britain’s most gossiped about muggleborn. Why would you ever have feelings for someone like me?”

Draco stared at her in horror. “Granger,” he choked, “if I still cared about shite like that, I wouldn’t have ever slept with you in the first place.” He scraped a hand through his tousled white-blond hair. “You really – is that how you see me? You think that I – that I see you as-” A sort of pained whine tore from his throat, making Hermione’s heart clench.

Abruptly, he shot to his feet. “I think…I’ve misread the situation. I won’t…I’ll not bother you again. Forgive me.” He turned to go, but not before she caught the utter desolation in his eyes.

He was hurt. She had hurt him.

Panicking, Hermione stumbled to her feet and shouted, “I was scared!”

Draco stopped, but didn’t turn.

Swallowing, she soldiered on, knowing that if she let him go, he’d walk out of her life for good. “I…I admit that I’m not good at reading…signals. Especially when it comes to f-flirting and things.”

He snorted.

“But,” she continued, taking a deep breath, “I wasn’t…totally oblivious. I knew, in some instances, that something…there was something more.” Hermione toed the floor nervously. “But I was afraid. When I first realized that I felt…things about you…I was so certain that I would get my heart broken. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I…every time you did or said something that could have been interpreted as more, I denied it. I thought up any excuse I could to explain it as something else.”

Her gaze dropped, lip trembling as she tried to force out the rest of what she wanted to say.

There were things she hadn’t ever told anyone…secrets and insecurities she kept buried deep down less they break through and scratch at her conscious. But she didn’t want to lose him.

“I-In case you haven’t noticed, Malfoy…” Hermione tried to keep her voice steady, “…I don’t have very much confidence in myself. Not academically o-or mentally speaking, but…on a personal level. I’m socially awkward, and have never made friends easily. I’ve never been all that pretty or fun to be around.”

She laughed feebly. “I’m the mum of the group. The one that tells everyone else to do their homework, get up for class, and not talk with their mouths full. I always annoy everyone around me, whether I intend to or not.” She sniffed, swiping a hand across her nose. “S-So when I said that I couldn’t imagine you having feelings for someone like me, it had less to do with my views about you and more of my views about…me. And I’m sorry I implied otherwise.”

Slowly, she dared to raise her head. Draco was eyeing at her softly, brows drawn with indignance. “For the record, Granger,” he murmured, “I think your friends are daft for not appreciating you better. I think you’re bloody gorgeous, and the way you passionately spout facts about virtually anything turns me on like you wouldn’t believe.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “But most of all…I think I’m a great prat, because I’m pretty sure that I’m responsible for planting a lot of those ridiculous ideas in your head.”

Hermione swallowed, but couldn’t deny it. The fact was, most of the insecurities she harbored formed in her first two years at Hogwarts, when he relentlessly bullied her and her friends.

“It’s alright, Draco. I know you’re not that little boy anymore.” She gave him a crooked half-smile. “If I didn’t, I never would have slept with you in the first place.”

Draco tentatively returned her smile.

But the moment was stolen when Hermione glanced at the table they’d just made violent love on. “So then… when you said I was stringing you along…” she prompted in a small voice.

Draco clenched his jaw. “I-I’m sorry…I should never have accused you, I just – fuck.” He started pacing again. “When I saw you alone with Finnegan yesterday, I saw red. Since I thought you were aware of my feelings, I wondered if…if maybe you’d been playing me this whole time. That you’d been sleeping with other people in the same way you’ve been sleeping with me, and you were just letting me hang onto false hope that we could be more.”

Hermione shook her head. “Seamus wanted to talk to me in private because he wanted advice on how to woo Lavender Brown.”

Draco blinked, squinting in confusion. “Brown?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was her roommate for six years, you know.”

He crossed his arms. “Why didn’t he ask that Patil girl? Those two are always attached at the hip.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Because he knew if he asked Parvati, the news that he fancies Lavender would be all over school by Monday morning.”

 “Ah…right,” Draco acquiesced, looking sheepish.

The Gryffindor chewed her lip, rubbing her arm self-consciously. “So you thought that you’d…what, use sex to – to force it out of me?”

He flinched. “No! No, that’s – that’s not what I-”

Hermione shot him a dubious glance, and he stopped.

Eyes filling with shame, Draco slid down a nearby shelf and buried his face in his hands. “That wasn’t my original intention, I swear. I was going to – well, I’d planned on shagging you, and then asking you afterward. I thought you’d be more…receptive to my questions after a few orgasms.”

Hermione blinked, knowing she should be angry, but the tactic was so very Slytherin, and she couldn’t even bring herself to be surprised. “So what…was that about, then?”

Draco winced, shaking his head. “I…when I started fucking you, all I could think about was how beautiful you were…but then, I wondered how many others had seen you that way, thought that about you. Then you begged me to fuck you harder, and I-I thought about whether you’d begged someone else the same way before. Suddenly, I was so bloody furious and jealous, and I…I couldn’t stop myself.”

Draco looked up at her, silver eyes glossy and wide. “I am so fucking sorry, Hermione. I should never have used you like that. Even – even if my stupid assumptions had been right, it was beyond wrong to treat you that way. I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Hermione stepped towards the bookshelf, lowering herself to sit next to him. “From your perspective, I can’t say I don’t get why you did it. But…” She looked down, hugging her knees. “It hurt, Draco. I had no idea why you were saying those things or acting that way. I won’t lie, it…it scared me a little.”

Draco hung his head, mouth pursing in shame.

“But,” she continued, “if we had just communicated a little better, it wouldn’t have happened at all, so…we’re both at fault here.” She gently cupped his face, turning him to look at her. “I forgive you, Draco. Next time…let’s talk to each other, instead of just making assumptions and waiting for the other person to make a move. Because-” Hermione licked her lips, giving a small smile. “Because I love you Draco, and I want to stop running and actually try to make this work between us.”

Draco’s eyes lit up with childlike glee. “Really?” he breathed.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, even though I know it will be difficult. I mean, there’s our friends, and our reputations, and not to mention your parents-” she stared rambling with growing trepidation.

Draco calmed her with a confident smirk. “I’m nearly an adult, Granger. Then I’ll be officially recognized as the head of the family. My parents don’t have as much control over me as they like to think.”

Hermione breathed out a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand pureblood culture.”

He blinked at her words, as if remembering something. “Speaking of pureblood culture-” He reached for his school bag and dug around in it for a moment, producing a black jewelry case.

Hermione’s mouth opened in trepidation, but whatever she was going to say died on a choke as he popped it open.

Inside lay a gorgeous silver necklace inlaid with sapphires – her birthstone. She didn’t have to be a jeweler to tell they were genuine, nor that it probably cost more than a year’s worth of her allowance.

“Draco,” she breathed, “t-that’s – it’s beautiful, but it’s too much, I couldn’t possibly accept-”

“Granger,” he interrupted with an amused smirk. “In pureblood society, jewelry is traditionally given as a courting gift.”

Hermione blinked rapidly, mouth hanging open.

Draco’s teasing expression fell, turning critical. “I want to prove that I’m serious about this, Granger. I’m not asking you to be my dirty little secret, or my shag on the side. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. Malfoys always get the best of everything – and I couldn’t imagine a more fitting woman to stand by me than you.”

Hermione wasn’t so certain she was still breathing.

Draco chuckled, having successfully shocked Hermione Granger speechless, a feat not achievable by many. “What do you say, Granger? Want to officially be mine?”

With a shaky exhalation, she nodded fiercely.

Smiling softly, Draco removed the necklace and extended towards her, then paused. “I-I know you told me not to touch you, but…”

Hermione blinked, having completely forgot she’d yelled that at him earlier. Moving her hair to the side, she gestured invitingly towards her neck. Grinning, Draco carefully fastened the necklace in place, where it sat beautifully on her collarbone. Rather than pull away, he trailed his fingers gently up her neck and cupped her cheek.

“Hermione,” he breathed, leaning in, “can I-”

The words had barely left his mouth before she crashed her lips to his in a kiss more tender and fulfilling than any that preceded it. Draco moaned softly when she pushed her tongue in his mouth, and fisted her curls as he pulled her as close as possible.

When they parted for breath, he traced the necklace lovingly with one hand and cupped her neck with the other.

“Mine,” Draco sighed softly. Hermione smiled, kissing him chastely.

“Mine,” she murmured against his lips. He shuddered and pulled her into his chest.

In the silence of the library, the odd pair sat in contentment, having at last climbed the barriers that separated them.

“Breakfast will be starting soon. Should we get going?” Hermione mumbled after a while.

“Sod breakfast. I got up at the bloody crack of dawn to catch you in here. Let’s stay…for a bit longer, at least,” Draco replied, cheek pressed against the top of her head as he stroked her curls.

Hermione smiled, snuggling deeper into his chest. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

CLICK CLACK

Draco trembled visibly at the familiar sound approaching from down the hall.

CLICK CLACK

The closer the sound grew, the heavier his breathing became.

CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK

Finally, it was in the room with him. Draco dared to slide his lowered gaze to the side, where the sight of his wife’s black heels clicking across the hardwood floor of their bedroom awaited him.

He swore every clack of those heels sent vibrations across the floor and right into his cock.

Or maybe that was just the prostate massager that had been gently buzzing away inside him for the past hour and a half; enough to shoot constant little sparks of pleasure through him, but not nearly enough to make him come.

Draco almost opened his mouth to ask, “what the hell took you so long?” but he quickly regained his senses. If he was disrespectful, there was no telling how long she’d keep him on the edge – if she even let him come at all.

Though she contained a heart that was sometimes too big for her own good, Draco’s little lioness had a vindictive side that loved to come out and play with her dominant side. 

Upon arriving home from work that afternoon, a box and a note were lying in wait for Draco. The box contained the toy, and the note instructed him to strip, kneel, and wait for her in their bedroom until she returned home. As he’d inserted the toy and lowered himself into position, Draco had initially assumed he’d only be waiting half an hour or so, as that was normally how long it took her to arrive home after him. However, as the minutes had continued to drag by in blissful agony with no sign of his wife, Draco had been left to swear at the floor in between frustrated moans. He didn’t dare remove the massager or stand for even a short while, because she always somehow knew when he’d been disobedient.

The torture continued as Hermione went through the motions of stripping out of her work clothes, feigning complete ignorance to his presence. After removing her ministry robes, she sat at her vanity and leisurely removed her earrings, took her hair down from its bun, and reapplied her lipstick. Subtly eyeing her husband from her peripherals, Hermione suppressed a smirk at the desperate, hungry gaze he was sending her. They both knew how much he hated being ignored.

Finally, after standing with a lazy stretch and exaggerated yawn, Hermione pulled off her work dress, reveling in Draco’s muffled whimper.

The blond felt his mouth go dry as he took in his wife’s pretty maroon lingerie, complete with stockings and a garter, but noticeably absent knickers. This witch was trying to kill him, Draco was sure of it.  

Finally, Hermione looked his way, blinking repeatedly as though she were surprised to see him there. Her painted lips curled into a sultry smirk that made his insides quiver. She approached him leisurely, taking her sweet time while she circled him with heated appraisal.

Draco felt his skin warm beneath her gaze.

Hermione stopped in front of him, brushing his cheek with her knuckles. “Enjoying your present, love?” she whispered huskily.

Draco swiped his tongue across his dry lips. “Yes, Miss.”

Hermione’s pupils dilated as she stroked her husband’s face. “And what do we say?”

His silver eyes flashed with mild irritation. “Thank you, Miss,” he mumbled.

Hermione tilted her head. “You don’t sound all that grateful. Perhaps you’d like to-” she shifted closer, exposing her pink folds, already glistening with arousal, “-show your appreciation instead?”

Draco’s mouth watered at the sight of her bare cunt, but before he could reply, she moved away. “Then again, I’m not so sure you’ve earned it.” Hermione suppressed a chuckle as Draco eyed her with dismay.

However, his disappointment was quickly replaced with determination as he drew her thumb into his mouth. Hermione’s breath hitched as he suckled her finger with hooded eyes, no doubt a demonstration of what he intended to do on other parts of her body.

Draco released her thumb with an audible pop and kissed her palm reverently. “Please Miss,” he breathed, “let me taste you. Let me show you my appreciation. I want you to come on my tongue. Please, please use me for your pleasure.”

Hermione looked down at him contemplatively. Then, she grasped his chin and shot him a heated look. “You’ll follow my every instruction?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

“You want to make me come?”

“Absolutely.”

Smirking, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his ear. “You want to be a good boy for me?”

Draco’s entire body trembled. “Fuck – yes, Miss, yes, more than anything!”

Hermione gave a stuttered sigh. “Alright…but only because you beg so wonderfully.”

Eyes sparkling at the permission, Draco eagerly leaned forward, hands raising to grasp her hips. “No,” Hermione scolded, swatting his hands away. “Hands behind your back, Draco. I gave you permission to use your mouth only.” Draco’s brows furrowed, but he obeyed. “Unless of course, you don’t think you can do it,” Hermione said with a challenging smirk. Her baiting worked, Draco’s eyes glinting with purpose as he dove in.

Hermione couldn’t hold back her cry as he pressed his hot tongue to her clit, drawing it between his lips with a harsh suck.

“Yes,” she gasped, carding her fingers through his hair and pulling just hard enough to sting. Draco groaned, the vibrations of his voice only making her wetter.

Their room was filled with breathy moans and lewd slurping as he ate her out with abandon, determined to prove that his tongue alone was more than sufficient. “Oh gods Draco, yes! I’ve been thinking about this all day…mm, slower…that’s it, right there! Fuck!” Hermione cried, throwing her head back in bliss.

Draco’s mind went hazy with the taste of her, his neglected cock screaming for attention and aching from all the edging. Unable to stop himself, he took advantage of his lover’s distraction to give himself several quick strokes, desperate for even a miniscule of relief. The brief contact made him moan against her cunt, underestimating how sensitive he’d be.

With a few more broad licks, Hermione came apart on his tongue with a gasp of his name, and Draco diligently lapped up her release. She gently pushed his head away from her sensitive core, looking down at him tenderly. “Good boy, Draco. You did very well.”

He smirked up at her. “I live to please, Miss.”

Hermione huffed out a laugh. “Indeed. Now, how are you feeling? Do you need a break, love?”

Draco quickly shook his head. He appreciated her considering his wellbeing, but aftercare was the last thing on his mind.

She arched a brow. “Are you certain? Think carefully, because once we continue, I won’t be offering again until I’ve thoroughly had my way with you.”

He nodded. “Yes Miss, I’m sure.”

Hermione studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Good. Because it’s time for your punishment.”

Draco’s eyes rounded. “What? W-Why?”

His wife chuckled lowly. “Why, for playing with yourself without permission, of course.”

The Slytherin paled at her words.

Hermione brushed his fringe away from his forehead and leaned down. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Thought I wouldn’t catch you being naughty?”

Her fingers moved down and gently closed around his throat, not squeezing, just pressing. His pulse fluttered rapidly beneath her touch, making her smirk. “Tell me, Draco,” Hermione purred, stroking his neck in a display of ownership; a silent reminder that she was in control.

“Did you think you’d get away with it? Be honest, now.”

Draco squirmed, hating how much her low, chastising tone turned him on. He swallowed as he forced himself to answer, knowing the consequences would only worsen the longer he stayed quiet. “Y-Yes Miss, I…I thought I’d get away with it. I’m sorry, Miss.”

Satisfied with his confession, Hermione released his throat. “Silly boy,” she whispered, tilting his chin up. “I thought you’d have learned by now. I always know when you’re being naughty, don’t I?”

Draco dropped his gaze at the scolding. “Yes, Miss.”

“Say it, Draco.”

He drew his brows together as though he were in pain. “You always know when I’m being naughty, Miss.”

A mixture of humiliation and grudging respect churned in his gut. Why did she have to treat him like a misbehaving little boy, Draco thought with frustration.

Because she knew him too well, his brain reminded him. Ever since they’d started experimenting with dominance and submission in the bedroom, his bright, quick learning Hermione had figured out exactly how to send him to his knees before her. She knew, on the occasions where she was the one in charge, how to turn him into a whimpering, writhing mess begging for his mistress’ touch. And blast it all, if he didn’t love and respect the hell out of her for it, even though it sometimes frustrated him to no end.

“Very good, love. Now stand up, and we’ll begin your punishment,” said Hermione. Shakily, Draco managed to rise, groaning at the ache in his legs and the sting of pleasure as the vibrator shifted inside him. His body protested the sudden use of his legs, tired from kneeling for so long. The cushioning charm he’d cast on the floor kept the pain from being unbearable, but it was still taking all his mental strength not to buckle.

With a silent Accio, Hermione’s wand flew to her hand before she muttered a simple healing spell. Draco sighed in relief as his muscles relaxed and the cramps left his legs, allowing him to stand properly.

“Thank you, Miss,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome, love,” Hermione chirped as she set her wand on the bedside table.

She turned and regarded him silently for several long moments. Draco pursed his lips to keep from speaking out, trying not to visibly squirm under her gaze. A quiet splattering noise caused him to look down, and he flushed at the sight of his precum dripping to the floor. His erection was nearly purple now, having only grown harder since his wife’s arrival. He almost whimpered at the sight of it, knowing it would be awhile yet before she touched it, before she so much as looked at it.

Finally, she approached him, hand cupping his face soothingly. “Alright Draco,” Hermione began, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. “Here’s what I’ve decided. I’m in a good mood today, so I’m going to let you choose your punishment.” She trailed chaste kisses up his neck, pausing to nip at his jawline. “Option one: you can sit with me on the bed and watch me pleasure myself, but you will not be allowed to touch or participate in any way.”

Draco’s eyes widened in horror.

“Or, option two,” Hermione continued, pausing to leave a gentle kiss on his quivering lips. “You can bend over the vanity and count as I spank that pretty little arse of yours until it’s red and throbbing. Your choice, love.”

Draco gave a trembling sigh as she nibbled his earlobe. “Spanking. The spankings, Miss,” he answered quickly.

Although Draco had a love-hate relationship with being spanked, at least that way she’d touch him, and the pain should keep him from blowing his load prematurely. With how sensitive he was, he didn’t trust himself not to come from her voice alone.

Hermione smirked. “Ask nicely, Draco.”

He swallowed thickly. “Please spank me, Miss.”

Satisfied, his minx of a wife stepped away. “Be a good boy and bend over the vanity, then.” Draco hurried to obey, not wanting to push his luck. He grasped the edges of the vanity as he slowly bent over, offering his arse to her.

He watched through the mirror as Hermione dug through the trunk at the foot of their bed. His heart leapt into his throat when she produced a riding crop.

Fuck. He might have considered a little more if he knew she was planning to use that.

Noticing his expression, Hermione smiled reassuringly. “No more than you can handle, love,” she promised, running a soothing hand over his backside.

Draco swallowed and nodded at her in the mirror. Then, without warning, she removed the prostate massager with a careful tug and switched it off. He whimpered at the loss, suddenly feeling empty without it. “Sorry, love. I didn’t want to hit it by accident,” Hermione explained as she set the toy aside.

Draco had barely processed her words before she was caressing his spine with the crop, making him flinch minutely. Noticing this, she continued to smooth a comforting hand over his pale skin.

“How many strikes, Draco?”

He blinked. “M-Miss?”

Hermione eyed his reflection in the mirror. “This is your punishment. Tell me how many strikes you think you deserve.”

Draco chewed his lip, knowing she was only asking for his opinion, not a genuine suggestion. “T-Twelve, Miss.”

Hermione arched a brow. “Why twelve?”

Draco took a steady breath and met her gaze in the mirror. “Ten for each time I stroked myself. One for disobeying you. And one for thinking you wouldn’t notice.” The Gryffindor hummed thoughtfully, continuing to stroke his back with the crop. A moment of tense silent passed, and Draco held his breath.

Then, she smiled. “I agree.” He relaxed for only a second, knowing she could strike any time, but his trepidation had lessened slightly now that he knew what to expect.

"Shall we have a little warm up?" Hermione inquired, prompting Draco to quirk a questioning brow at her in the mirror. "Hold out your hand for me." 

Swallowing, he obeyed. His wife smiled at him sweetly, running the smooth leather up his forearm before cradling it in the palm of his hand. 

SMACK

Draco exhaled shakily when she brought the crop down, the sting echoing from the center of his palm down to his elbow. His heart was racing in his chest, anticipation coursing through his veins.

“Good, good. Now, what’s your safe word, love?” Hermione prompted.

“Bludger, Miss,” Draco replied.

“Very good.”

And she gave no more warnings before the crop came down on his arse.

“Fuck!”

He cried out, back arching as the sting seeped into his muscles.

“Count, Draco,” Hermione reminded, rubbing the spot she’d struck.

“One, Miss…” he sighed.

“Very good.”

THWACK

“T-Two, Miss.”

“Excellent.”

THWACK

“Urgh, fuck – three, Miss!” Draco hissed through his teeth, feeling his eyes starting to water.

She paused then, gently stroking the sores on his backside. “Why are you being punished, Draco?”

He struggled to answer through the fog of pain and pleasure. “F-For playing with myself without permission,” he slurred.

“That’s right,” Hermione purred, raking her nails across his stinging flesh.

Suddenly, she was palming his balls, making him jump in surprise. Slowly, her fingers trailed between his legs, causing his breath to grow ragged as she ran the tips of her fingers down his shaft. Then, Hermione gave him a squeeze, drawing a long, low groan from his throat.

“Tell me Draco,” she drawled, “who does this lovely cock belong to?”

Draco panted, forehead pressed down onto the vanity’s surface as he answered. “Y-You, Miss.”

She tugged at his hair, forcing him to meet her eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. Who does this belong to?” Hermione repeated, squeezing his cock until his eyes crossed.

“God – fuuu…you Miss, you! My cock belongs to you!” Draco cried desperately.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, gentling her hold. “So then, who decides when you get to play with it?”

“You do, Miss,” he gasped, legs trembling beneath him.

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand. Then there won’t be anymore naughtiness tonight, will there?” Hermione asked with a raised brow.

Draco shook his head quickly. “No, Miss. I’ll be good, I promise.”

She licked her lips. “Then relax and take the rest of your spankings like a good little boy.”

Shivering, he gave a slight nod, arching his spine submissively.

Hermione leaned down and left a kiss on his shoulder. “My sweet, perfect little pureblood.”

Draco’s whine at her soft words transformed into a heated cry when she struck him with the crop.

“Count.”

“Haaa…f-four, Miss.”

Again and again Hermione swung the crop, staining his arse and thighs red. Draco whimpered, panted, and swore through the strikes, but each time, he moaned out the correct number.

“Twelve!” he gasped when the final strike hit him, the side of his face pressed against the vanity.

 “Good, very good. You did so well, Draco. I’m very proud of you, love,” Hermione praised, brushing his hair from his face. Draco’s silver eyes opened to gaze at her blearily before casting her a drunken smile. Hermione’s heart swelled at the sight of it, and she couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Though he concealed it well, Hermione knew her husband was self-conscience about his submissive side. It had taken ages of tentative suggestions, careful experimentation, and gentle pushes before he was comfortable with putting himself in such a vulnerable position. He still struggled at times, but Hermione knew how to reassure him and draw him out of his shell.

“I think you deserve a reward, love.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. “Reward, Miss?” She nodded with a smile.

“Yes, my good boy. What would you like?”

Draco didn’t hesitate. “Fuck me, Miss. Please.”

Hermione’s smile widened. “Fuck you? That’s what you want?”

He nodded desperately. “Yes Miss, more than anything. Please, fuck me, please, please,” he whined, knowing how much she loved it when he begged.

Hermione hummed, spreading her hand between his shoulder blades. “But you haven’t specified how you want me to fuck you, love. Do you want me to push you down on the bed, climb on top of you, and slam my cunt down on your pretty cock until you beg me to stop?”

Draco’s entire body quivered.

“Or,” she continued, her voice growing husky, “would you prefer if I fucked you right-” she suddenly slid a finger into his tight, puckered hole, drawing an embarrassingly loud moan from her husband, “-here?”

Draco’s mind went fuzzy as he tried to hold back his pleasured cries. Hermione’s finger probed his sensitive passage, overstimulated from the prostate massager. He didn’t realize he was bucking his hips against her finger until she withdrew it, making him whimper in protest.

“Tell me, love. Tell me what you want.”

Draco bit his lip with indecision. His cocked pulsed at the thought of being inside her, of her smirking down at him as she rode him to completion. But at the same time, his insides felt painfully empty…

“You choose, Miss,” he sighed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You’re certain, love?”

Draco bit his lip and nodded. “Yes, Miss. I trust you to take care of me.”

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Good answer, Draco.”

Her wand flew briefly into her hand, and with a wave, her garter was transfigured into a maroon strap-on.

Draco’s jaw dropped and his breath hitched in anticipation. “M-Miss, you…are you sure?”

“Yes, sweet boy. You’ve earned it,” Hermione assured him.

“B-But…” Draco pursed his lips.

His wife gave him an encouraging glance. “Go on, love. I’m listening.”

He sighed through his nose. “You…won’t get any pleasure, Miss.”

Hermione chuckled. “Oh love, don’t you see? Your pleasure is my pleasure. I want to watch your lovely face twist in delight. I want to see you lose control and come apart on my cock. I want to hear you scream my name as you come for me. That is pleasing to me, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes were wide, making her laugh lightly. “You look so surprised, love. Don’t you do the same to me when our positions are reversed?”

He smiled crookedly. “That’s…yes, you’re right, Miss,” Draco acquiesced with a chuckle.

Hermione smiled back, pressing the tip of the strap-on against his entrance.

Draco bit his lip in anticipation, whitened knuckles gripping the vanity. With a wave of her hand, she applied a lubrication charm to the silicone, and carefully pushed in.

Draco’s expression went slack with pleasure as he pressed his forehead against the vanity and whispered, “Fuck…”

Hermione only went in about a third of the way before pulling back out to the tip. Slowly, she pushed back in, watching her husband carefully for any signs of discomfort.

Draco panted against the vanity’s surface, his legs shaking at the onslaught of pleasure. Before Hermione, Draco never would have imagined he’d be the kind of man who enjoyed having something shoved up his arse, much less being pegged. The suggestion had come from his daring Gryffindor as a joke, which he’d initially brushed off as such. However, his determined wife had convinced him one day to, “just try it once, see if you like it! If you don’t, we’ll never mention it again. Come on, I thought you were all about being adventurous in the bedroom!”

And damn her, but the goading had worked. That one tentative session with fingers had evolved to vibrators, then dildos, and before he knew it, Draco Malfoy found himself growing hard at the mere thought of being pounded into like a bitch in heat.

It was embarrassing, but he wouldn’t ever change it if it meant he got to be her bitch for as long as she’d have him.

Draco’s jaw dropped with a hoarse cry as Hermione finally sheathed herself completely inside him. “Hermione – fuck!” he choked out as she began rocking her hips. He met her thrust for thrust as they built up a rhythm that made him see stars.

He felt her nails tangle into his hair before giving a sharp yank. Draco hissed at the pleasant sting as his head was forced up. “Look at me, Draco,” Hermione demanded. He obediently opened his eyes, meeting his own debauched expression in the mirror.

His face was flushed, his eyes were glazed over and dark with lust, and a trail of drool was trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Draco wiped it away before Hermione gave a sudden swat to his battered arse, making him yelp.

“I said look at me.” His silver eyes darted up to meet her hazel ones, and she smiled triumphantly. “Good boy, Draco. You’re taking my cock so well, darling,” she cooed, making him moan at her words.

“Mm, fuck – thank you, ugh, thank you – ohh – thank you! You feel fucking amazing, Miss!” Draco slurred, struggling to even put together a sentence.

“You like your reward, then?” Hermione asked with a smirk.

He hissed. “Yesss… I love it, I love it, I – oh fuck! – mmph – gods – yes, I love it, I love – hnngh – love you, I love you, I love you…” Draco gasped out, delirious with pleasure.

“I love you too, my sweet boy,” she sighed with a tender grin.

Draco shuddered, curling his toes into the floor. “Fuck, Hermio – Miss, please, please, I-I need-”

Deciding to show mercy, Hermione leaned down until her lips brushed his ear. “Touch yourself, Draco.”

Her husband nearly cried in relief, grasping his swollen cock and stroking it desperately. Hermione didn’t slow, continuing to fuck him against the vanity as she listened to his howls of pleasure grow louder and louder.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, holy fuck! M-Miss, I’m close!” Draco gasped.

“You want to come, Draco?” Hermione taunted.

“Oh gods, yes!”

“Beg for it, love. Beg.”

Draco bit down on his lip hard enough to break skin. “Please, please, please, may I come, Miss? Unngh – I c-can’t – please Miss, H-Hermione, please, I need to come! Oh god! S-So close, I’m so fucking close! Please Hermione, please let me come!” Draco begged until he was nearly sobbing.

“Come for me, Draco,” Hermione panted.

Draco’s roar of completion shook the room, his vision whiting out and his entire body going taught with the strength of his orgasm. His seed spilled out on the floor as his legs trembled violently.

Once reality returned to his muddled brain, Draco slumped against the vanity, his Seeker-given muscles the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

Hermione pulled out of him, planting gentle kisses up his spine and whispering praises into his ear. Eventually, she managed to haul him off the vanity and help him over to their bed, where he crumpled face-down into the mattress with an exhausted groan.

“Merlin’s beard, woman…” Draco wheezed, voice muffled by the comforter.

Hermione giggled a bit. “Did you have fun, darling?”

He turned his face just enough to send her an exasperated glance. “I thought you were going to bloody kill me.”

She hummed in understanding, grabbing her wand to heal the welts and stripes on his backside. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Draco grumbled but didn’t deny it.

Once his arse was soft and pale again, Hermione grabbed a bottle of massage oil from the bedside drawer and poured a generous amount into her hand. Draco sighed in relief as she rubbed his back and shoulders, the oil’s gentle aroma soothing his aches.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked softly.

He nodded languidly.

“Thank you for doing that with me. It made me very happy.”

Whenever Draco agreed to be the submissive, Hermione always made sure to thank him and let him know how much he pleased her, knowing how difficult it was for him to be so vulnerable.

He smiled up at her lazily. “Don’t thank me yet, love. I will be getting my revenge soon enough, pet.”

Hermione shuddered, squeezing her thighs together at the dark promise in his voice. “I look forward to it.”

Chapter Text

Hermione cocked a brow at the note that had just landed on her work desk. The familiar handwriting roused suspicion most high, though of course, that didn’t stop her from unfolding it to discover its contents.

"To Gryffindor's Princess,"

Hermione’s eye gave the faintest twitch.

“I have stumbled upon a possible error with your department’s recent report regarding the illegal trafficking of Ashwinder eggs. Please stop by my office at your earliest convenience.

-The Dark Prince of Slytherin.”

Hermione huffed with part amusement, part exasperation. Clearly, her “Slytherin Prince” was planning something. For one, she greenlit that report herself, so she knew it was flawless. Second, even if there was an issue with it, any grievances should initially be taken up with the original author of the report, not sent straight to the head of the department.

Drumming her nails atop the desk, Hermione wondered what he was playing at. “Only one way to find out,” she said to herself.

“April, I’m off to handle a discrepancy with the Department of Magical Accidents. Leave any messages on my desk, if you please,” Hermione informed her secretary as she exited her office.

“Cool,” April droned in reply, not looking up from her novel. The Gryffindor rolled her eyes with a small smile. Normally she might reprimand her laid back assistant for reading during work hours, but it was a slow day at the Ministry.

Hermione tapped her heeled foot impatiently as she stood in the elevator. The old lift seemed determined to delay her as much as possible. The damn thing barely even felt like it was moving.

Finally, the doors scraped open, and she exited with haste.

The office of head department consultant and occasional liaison Draco Malfoy sat at the very end of the main hallway, making Hermione grumble a bit. Whatever he’d really called her down here for, it had better be worth the trip.

She knocked on his office door only twice before letting herself in. Draco looked up at her entrance, lip curling into his familiar smirk.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” he said in greeting.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she replied, barely holding back her smile.

The Gryffindor crossed her arms. “Well, get on with it, then. What was so important that I had to make that maddening trip all the way down here?”

Draco’s smirk widened. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t dream of taking up too much of your precious time. After all, what would the DRMCR do without its cherished Head?”

Hermione huffed. “Let’s just get this over with, Malfoy.”

“Certainly,” said Draco, “do shut the door if you don’t mind, it gets a tad drafty in here.”

She snorted, but did as he asked. As she approached his desk, he held up the report in question. “You see, I’m just a bit doubtful about the supposed events listed in this report. It states the entire shipment of Ashwinder eggs went missing during the scuffle. Quite convenient for our traffickers, wouldn’t you say?”

Hermione arched a brow. “And as it also states, very clearly might I add, one of the junior Aurors accidentally vanished the shipment while attempting to retrieve it from the traffickers. Hence why the case was forwarded to this department in the first place.”

Draco leaned back in his seat, smirk still firmly in place. “Vanishing an entire shipment? Quite a feat to pull off, particularly by accident, wouldn’t you say?”

The Gryffindor clicked her tongue with restrained aggravation. “Well if you’d bothered to read the comments listed in the footnotes Malfoy, the Auror responsible has had incidences like this before due to the unnatural amount of latent magic in his core. He’s currently training to gain better control of his ability, hence why he’s a junior Auror. If you have any further unnecessary inquiries about it, you can march your arse up to the Auror department and take them up with him.”

Draco only seemed amused by her obvious consternation as he waved off her suggestion. “No, no, wouldn’t want to waste the poor bloke’s time.”

“But you’ll waste mine?” Hermione snapped.

The Slytherin eyed her with feigned innocence. “Why Mrs. Malfoy, I’m only trying to ensure that this case is wrapped up smoothly. I know how much of a perfectionist you are, so naturally I wouldn’t dream of marring your spotless record.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what her sneaky husband’s aim was. She knew he didn’t give a howling hoot about junior Aurors with strange magical conditions, nor the now at-risk population of Ashwinders in Bulgaria due to the missing eggs. She also knew he didn’t actually think there was anything wrong with the report. So what exactly was his goal in dragging her out of her office in the middle of the morning? It wasn’t enough that she’d had to deal with an abnormal amount of time-wasting, insipid cases this week, now her own husband had to add to her stress load?

“What exactly would you have me do about it, Mr. Malfoy?” asked Hermione through clenched teeth.

Draco smiled as though he’d been waiting for her to ask that very question. “Nothing too demanding. I simply think you should review it again before I send it off for filing. You know, just to ensure that everything’s as flawless as you apparently think it is.”

A heated sigh escaped her at the ridiculous request, baffled at the idea that he apparently wanted her to take time out of her day to review a report that she had already read front-to-back just the day before on account of a concern that wasn’t even relatively valid nor sensible.

And yet…that infernal, not-so-subtle stab at her competence screamed at her to suck it up and prove him wrong. Even though she knew he said it on purpose solely to manipulate her into doing his bidding…her Gryffindor pride wouldn’t let it go.

“Fine!” Hermione barked. “Give it here, then.”

She made to grab at it, but the maddening Slytherin snatched it away. “Woah, easy, Granger. Wouldn’t want to damage it, now would we?” Draco smirked as he observed her incensed expression.

Doubtless his fiery wife was barely holding herself together, particularly after the tiring week she’d just had…

Which was exactly why it was his duty to help her unwind a bit.

“Now now Mrs. Malfoy, no need for attitude. Have a seat, you’ll be much more relaxed.”

Hermione’s brows knitted with confusion. “But you haven’t got any chairs in here-”

Her words stuttered to a halt as Draco leaned further back in his seat.

Oh. Oh.

Her mouth suddenly felt very dry. Pursing her lips, she cast a wary glance at the door behind her. “Well, Mrs. Malfoy?” Draco prompted, voice dropping an octave. Hermione took a slow breath in and out, trying to calm her suddenly spiked heart rate. Her heels clicked across the floor as she rounded his desk. Draco shot her a dark, hooded gaze that turned her insides to jelly.

She recognized that expression. She recognized it from those long, hazy nights in their bedroom, when the air was heavy with the scent of sweat, musk, candles, and leather.

Swallowing, Hermione lowered herself to sit upon her husband’s lap, hands miraculously not shaking as he handed her the report. “Take your time,” Draco hummed against her ear.

She breathed very steadily.

She was only halfway through page one of the report before her eyes wandered. Her husband looked quite delectable today, she couldn’t help but notice. He’d long ago traded out the dull Ministry robes for muggle suits, claiming they were far more flattering on him. Hermione enthusiastically agreed as she drank in his black coat, vest, and button up ensemble complete with a navy blue tie. He looked positively edible.

A sudden squeeze to her hip made her jump in his lap. “Focus, Mrs. Malfoy. Haven’t got all day, have we?” Draco purred, sending shivers down her spine.

“R-Right, sorry,” she stammered.

Hermione tried very hard to focus on the blasted report instead of how wonderful his hard body felt beneath hers. Or his roaming hand flirting with her clothed hip. Or how fucking good he smelled, like aftershave and her favorite cologne, something woodsy with a hint of citrus. Fuck, just his scent alone was enough to make her wet.

Draco’s wandering hand inched its way down her thigh, causing Hermione to stiffen. Slowly, his fingers glided along her knee and began to make their way back up…

And up…

And up…

“D-Draco,” she breathed, eyes darting to his office door. He stilled just inches from her pulsing quim. She released a shaky exhale, unsure if she wanted to push his hand away or press it firmly against her-

“Whiskers,” Draco whispered against the shell of her ear, making her heart skip.

Hermione knew exactly what he meant. It was their invitation word, a word to signify when one of them was feeling…adventurous. She’d whispered it to him just a few weeks back, on that special afternoon when he’d let her spank him and fuck him against her vanity.

Now he was offering her a go, right here in their workplace, where any number of people could catch them. Hermione was no exhibitionist, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t either, but…she had to admit, the thought of shamelessly defiling his office, the risk of being caught…was all too exciting.

Plus, she’d had a frustrating week, and could think of no better way to relax than to lay back and let her husband’s dominant side take good care of her.

Fuck it, she needed him.

“Kittens,” Hermione whispered back.

Draco smirked triumphantly, and with a brief flick of his wand, the door clicked with a locking charm. “I’m not going to silence the room,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe. “Your beautiful body is for my eyes alone. However…I can’t say I’m averse to the idea of someone walking by and hearing just how good I make you feel.”

Hermione whimpered, clutching his trousers.

“Do you like the thought of that, pet? Does it turn you on, thinking of what it would be like to fill my office with your sweet moans, letting everyone know what a good little slut you are for me?”

"Yes,” she moaned, tilting her head in a display of submission.

Draco reached up and pinched her nipple through her bra, making her gasp. “Yes what?” he growled in the back of his throat.

“Yes, Sir! Letting everyone know what a slut I am for you makes me so hot...” Hermione cried, arching against him as he clutched her nipple in a punishing grip. The glorious pain shot through her breast and made heat pool in her core.

Draco relaxed his hold, stroking her breast soothingly as he kissed her cheek. “Good girl,” he sighed huskily.

Hermione keened at the praise, dropping her head back on his shoulder. “Thank you, Sir. Please…will you touch me?” she begged. Draco smirked indulgently and obliged her, dipping his hand deeper beneath her skirt and pressing two fingers firmly against her clit. “Yes!” Hermione gasped, trembling in his hold.

Draco chuckled. “As much as I adore hearing you moan for me, pet, I don’t actually want either of us to lose our jobs, so you’ll have to keep quiet. Do you think you can keep that pretty mouth shut?”

“Mmm…yes Sir, I’ll be quiet, I promise,” she hummed, hoping her obedience would coerce him to touch her more.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pet? My good little girl,” Draco whispered tenderly, slipping his fingers inside her knickers.

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep her moans from slipping out. His agile digits teased her clit, working the sensitive button in steady circles. She bit her lip as his hot breath tickled her ear, followed by his lips trailing down her jaw.

Hermione turned to give him a searing kiss, muffling her needy gasps and whines with her husband’s mouth.

“Mm…now, I believe you still have a report to finish reviewing?”

She gaped. “Wha…you mean you still want me to-”

He interrupted her with a nip to her lip. “It’s not your place to ask questions, pet. Now be a good girl and obey.” Hermione huffed but dutifully turned her attention back to the report in her hands.

Draco rewarded her by increasing his pace, fingers relentlessly dancing on her swollen clit. She squirmed in his lap and subconsciously spread her legs wider. Panting, she glanced down, the sight of his hand buried in her knickers making her whine.

Draco bit her ear. “Shh…quiet, now. Only good pets get to come.”

Nodding jerkily, Hermione tried to relax and refocus on the task at hand. The words on the report blurred together, allowing her to skim it at best. As she turned the page, Draco whispered praise and encouragement in her ear, giving her the strength to continue.

God, why was this fucking thing so long? If it weren’t for the fact that she’d have to explain why, Hermione would gladly have words with the Auror that wrote it.

At last, when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she reached the end of the stupid report that started it all.

“Sir, I’m finished,” she panted.

Without pausing his sinful ministrations, Draco plucked the document from her hands. “Hmm, so you have. My apologies, I suppose there wasn’t anything wrong with it after all,” he droned with a smirk. The report was then tossed carelessly on his desk.

Her eyes rolled back to stare at the ceiling as he increased the pressure on her clit, pinching and rolling it in his skilled fingers until she felt her climax upon her.

“Ffffuck-” Hermione hissed. “S-Sir, I’m close. Please, can I-”

“No.”

Too soon, Draco withdrew his fingers and started smoothing out her skirt. She blinked rapidly, almost dizzy from the sudden denial. Whining desperately, she wriggled on his lap in protest. Her cruel husband chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Patience, pet. Behave for me, and I’ll reward you so well later.”

Hermione bit down on her lip, aggravating the bruised flesh as her cunt pulsed with desire. So this was the game he wanted to play today? The thought both agonized and excited her to no end. Being edged by Draco was a tumultuous, pleasurable experience that she usually looked back on fondly. Though he could be merciless in his teasing, he always made it worth it in the end. Draco never disappointed her.

After a steadying breath, Hermione linked their fingers and turned her head for a kiss. “Yes Sir, I’ll be patient. I promise I won’t come until you say I can.”

Draco smiled tenderly, combing his fingers through her curls in attempt to tame them. “That’s my good girl.”

With one last kiss, Hermione stood from his lap and straightened herself out. Draco swatted her arse playfully. “I’ll see you later,” he winked. Very maturely, Hermione stuck her tongue in his direction before exiting his office.

A strenuous hour and a half later found Hermione sitting crossed-legged in her office, half-heartedly assessing some ridiculous claim about faeries stealing kitchen utensils that was likely submitted by the same crazy old bat that swore harpies kidnapped her cat.

The heated pulse of arousal had abated somewhat, but probing thoughts about what else Draco had in store for her proved concentration difficult to grasp. Her thighs felt sticky, and she cringed at the thought of them chafing. Sighing, Hermione ensured her office door was locked before sliding her drenched knickers down her legs.

After casting a cleansing charm on her thighs, she found herself eyeing the cute little pair thoughtfully.

Now don’t get her wrong, her submissive personality was normally very obedient; more than willing to lay back and please her master in any and all ways she could, craving for praise and pleasure.

However, that didn’t mean there weren't also occasions in which she craved punishment.

Perhaps it was utterly shameless, but Draco’s bold actions had lit a fire of desire in her. Hermione never would have imagined engaging in such scandalous activities at work would be such a crippling turn on, but now that she’d been awakened, she wanted to see how far they could push it. Or, more accurately, how far she could push him.

Grinning roguishly, Hermione slipped her knickers into her pocket and crept out of her office for the second time that day.

Later, after a dreadfully dull board meeting, the Gryffindor had just finished gathering her notes and was making for the door, when one of her coworkers tapped her shoulder.

“Your husband asked me to give you this,” he grumbled, holding a note in her direction.

“Oh, thanks, Paul,” said Hermione.

Paul muttered something vaguely rude under his breath, but she paid him no mind, eagerly unfolding the note.

“My office. Now.”

She grinned.

After yet another painfully slow ride on the lift, Hermione speed-walked to her husband’s office, uncaring if she drew a few curious gazes.

“Close the door,” Draco voiced the moment she stepped in, foregoing all acts and pleasantries.

“Lock it.”

She obeyed, swallowing when he cast a silencing charm. Draco stood in front of his desk, arms crossed, silver eyes dark and piercing.

“Kneel,” he growled. Hermione’s knees hit the floor before she even remembered bending them.

Excitement and adrenaline sent her heart pounding. His Italian leather oxfords clacked against the floor as he circled her appraisingly. Her skin prickled where his fingers traced along her jaw, following the path of her cheek until he grasped her chin. “Someone’s been a naughty girl today,” he rumbled, tilting her head up to meet his hooded gaze.

Hermione’s eyes fluttered as she bit her lip coquettishly. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”

Draco chuckled ominously. “Lying, too? You’re begging for punishment, eh pet?”

The Gryffindor bit back a moan. “N-No, Sir.”

Draco cocked a brow. “Oh?” he drawled, retrieving something from his pocket. “Then I suppose these lovely things ended up in my desk drawer by accident?” A pair of lacy pink knickers hung from his fingers.

“I wanted you to know I was thinking about you, Sir,” Hermione explained, licking her lips.

“Ah. I suppose that’s why they’re soaked through, then?” Draco commented as though making an inquiry about the weather. She nodded, squirming slightly in her position on the floor.

The Slytherin smirked, tracing his thumb across his wife’s lips. “And what exactly was my little pet thinking about that got her so excited, hm?”

“You, Sir.”

He chuckled as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “Naturally, my dear. Care to elaborate on these fantasies of yours?”

Hermione placed a gentle kiss to his lower lip. “Mm…I imagined you bending me over my desk and spanking me. Then you shoved your huge cock inside me and fucked me until I passed out.”

Draco’s eyes darkened. “Is that so?” He swiped his tongue across her earlobe, making her gasp. “I do so adore your depraved imagination, pet. Is that what your needy body is craving? Are you desperate for a good, hard spanking? Tell me, love.”

Hermione shuddered. “Oh yes…please punish me, Sir. I’ve been so bad…”  

Draco gave a shaky exhale. “Oh, you’ll get your punishment alright. You won’t know anything but my touch by the time I’m through with you!”

He kissed her then, hard, hungry, and full of promise. She whimpered at the onslaught, raising herself as high as she could to reach him. A string of saliva bridged their lips when he drew away and retreated to his desk. Hermione obediently stayed where she was, watching him longingly as he made himself comfortable in his desk chair. “Come, pet. If you want your punishment, you’ll have to work for it.”

Nodding, she eagerly crawled towards her husband, smiling at the pleased smirk he gave her. Once she’d reached him, Draco hauled her up into his lap and bent her over his knee. Hermione gripped the chair legs and squirmed impatiently. He wasted no time in pulling her skirt back, the cold air on her exposed arse making her shiver.

“Look at this cute, tight little arse,” Draco breathed as he caressed her backside. “Why, it’s practically begging to be stamped with my handprint. Wouldn’t you agree, princess?”

Hermione craned her neck to shoot him a mildly baleful look. He knew how much she despised that nickname. But she’d already pushed her luck, so she bit back her complaint and agreed. “Yes it is, Sir – AH!”

She cried out as Draco firmly brought his palm down on her arse, the resounding SMACK echoing in the office. “Mm, thank you, Sir,” Hermione moaned instinctively.

Draco chuckled. “So dirty, Granger. Most people would cringe at the thought of being spanked like a naughty, disobedient child, but not you, isn’t that right?”

SMACK

“Oh! Yes, mmm, yes Sir! I love being spanked!” she panted, uncaring of how desperate and wanton she sounded.

“That’s right. I could have you over my knee all day-”

SMACK

“-just swatting you again and again, until your poor little arse is all red-”

SMACK

“-and all you would do is whine and moan like the little-”

SMACK

“-slut-”

SMACK

“-you-”

SMACK

“-are.”

SMACK

Hermione keened at the glorious burn in her arse as she felt arousal start to drip out of her pussy. “F-Fuck…thank you, Sir! More, please…harder!”

Draco hissed as he rubbed her reddened flesh. “So demanding…perhaps I spoil you a bit too much, my little princess.”

SMACK

“Oh gods, yes!” Hermione wailed without thinking.

“Yes? Ah, so you agree. In that case, I think an extra punishment is in order.” Draco shifted beneath her, then thrust her knickers in front of her face. “Open.” She swiftly obeyed, allowing him to stuff the knickers into her mouth. “Fuck…I wish you could see yourself now, pet. Bent over my knee with your pretty little knickers in your mouth…now you look just like the filthy whore you really are.”   

Draco’s hand descended harshly on her arse, smacking each cheek in rapid succession. Hermione moaned loudly around her knickers, unable to get enough of the degradation he kept feeding her. Again and again, long past the point of keeping count, the assertive Slytherin smacked his wife’s arse until she was practically sobbing on his lap.

Arousal was running down her thighs, and Draco’s cock twitched at the sight of it.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione, who couldn’t help but wriggle slightly against the erection poking her belly, drawing a low groan from her husband. She smirked a little, smug that she was not the only one affected by their play.

Draco yanked her head up by her hair. “You’re on thin ice, pet,” he growled. Hermione tried to speak, but her words were muffled by the knickers still stuffed in her mouth. “Hm? What was that, darling? I’m afraid I can’t understand you,” Draco drawled with a smirk. She whined pleadingly. Chuckling, he kissed her forehead before withdrawing her knickers. “You were saying, pet?”

“Please Sir,” she breathed, “let me suck you off. I want to make you feel good.”

Draco’s breath hitched. “You want to suck me?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, please, Sir. I want to taste your cock.”

Perhaps he should have made her beg more, but Draco found he lacked the strength to refuse at the thought of her eager tongue on his dick. Listening to her debauched whines and moans had made his erection almost painfully hard.

No sooner had he given his permission when his wife was crawling under the desk and tugging at his belt.

Draco hissed as Hermione fervently sucked half of him into her hot mouth, not giving him any time to adjust to the sensation. “Oh fuck-” he choked, clutching his wife’s head.

Her eyes gleamed as she boldly leaned forward and took as much of him as she could. Hollowing her cheeks, she swallowed around him before withdrawing back to the tip and flicking her tongue against it teasingly.

Draco felt his eyes cross. “Ungh…that’s it, princess, just like that. Fuck, you look so gorgeous with my cock in your mouth. You like the way that tastes, pet?”

Hermione moaned as she nodded. Smirking, he gave several shallow thrusts into her mouth, loving the way her lovely eyes teared up with her efforts to take him.

“Good girl, pet, you’re doing so well. Mm, more…suck it harder, you little slag,” he groaned, throwing his head back. She obliged, bobbing her head in earnest until he hit the back of her throat with each thrust.

Draco’s legs shook as the coil in his belly tightened, his orgasm right there-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The pair froze.

Shit. That’s right. They were still at work.

Draco’s silencing charm had been one-way; no one could hear inside the office, but they could still hear everything outside. He found himself slightly regretting that decision now.

Regardless, he cleared his throat before removing the locking and silencing charms and calling out, “Enter.”

The door clicked open, revealing his coworker, Michael Corner, from across the hall.

Michael quirked a curious brow. “Did you have your door locked?”

Draco shrugged and replied, “I was reviewing a sensitive document and didn’t fancy anyone barging in on me. Not everyone in this department is quite so courteous, you know.”

Michael rolled his eyes, buying the clever Slytherin’s lie with ease. “Don’t I know it. Well, I won’t keep you. Just needed to give you the files on the Miller case.”

“Alright, thanks, Corner,” Draco said politely, hoping he’d pick up on his tone and leave.

As Michael approached his desk, Draco subtly shifted forward as to conceal the woman hiding beneath it. Hermione caressed his thighs as she kissed the head of his cock. He clutched her curls in warning as Michael shuffled the files atop his desk. “So, it took me forever to put together enough evidence for this one. Barton Miller is a stubborn old bastard; didn’t want to admit that his ‘perfect, innocent,’ muggleborn grandson was stealing bicycles. Yeah, because bikes always appear in random kids’ bedrooms one their own. Anyway, I finally got the old coot to talk-”

Draco wanted to scream. Of course fucking detail-oriented Corner couldn’t just leave the damn files and screw off. The man had to stick around and explain every single goddamn thing that Draco could easily read himself in the stupid reports. Now, the former Ravenclaw’s incessant nattering was keeping him from finishing in his wife's mouth!

As the Slytherin tried to think up an excuse to get Michael to leave, Hermione eyed the beautiful cock bobbing in front of her face. The head had turned a lovely scarlet and was dripping with pre come. She knew he’d been on the cusp of finishing when Michael had knocked.

It just wouldn’t be kind of her to leave him there, now would it?

Slowly, the gutsy Gryffindor ran her tongue along the bottom of his cock, deliberately caressing the sensitive frenulum.

Draco tensed, yanking on her curls, but Hermione was not deterred. Relaxing her jaw, she surged forward, taking him down almost to the hilt.

Draco’s vision swam out of focus, Michael’s voice becoming a hazy blur. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his chair with one hand and pulled his wife’s hair with the other.

The sting in her roots only spurred Hermione on. She bobbed her head quickly, but careful not to make any noise.

Draco no longer knew what Michael was talking about. The little minx between his thighs was going to make him blow his load right here in front of his annoying coworker!

“…that sound alright, Malfoy?”

The Slytherin blinked. “…Sure, that’s fine,” he replied breathlessly, not knowing what it was he’d just agreed to.

His steady expression and deceptively casual body language gave away nothing. If it weren’t for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, even the most observant of viewers wouldn’t guess the scandalous activity happening right under their nose.

Fucking finally, Michael gave a parting nod and started towards the door. However, he was just a second too late.

Though Draco did his damnedest to hang on just a few moments longer – pinched his thigh, chewed his lip, thought of his grandmother Druella and grandfather Cygnus going at it – he was no match for his wife’s enthusiastic mouth. Thinking quickly, Draco disguised his finishing moan by feigning a coughing fit.

Michael turned around, hand on the doorknob. “You okay there, Malfoy?”

“Uh, yeah,” he panted, “j-just a tickle in my throat.” Not his best lie, but Michael simply shrugged before taking his leave.

The moment the door clicked shut, Draco hauled Hermione out from her hiding spot by the hair, pulling her to her feet. The minx smirked, his cum dripping down her chin. “That was bold, pet. Too bold. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences,” he hissed.

The Gryffindor licked his seed off her lips. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Not as sorry as you’ll be once I’m done with you,” Draco growled before claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss.

If Hermione had understood the extent of said consequences at the time, she may not have been so hasty to tease him.

It started at midday, when she boarded the lift to leave the Ministry. Ron was back in town, and she’d promised to meet him and George for lunch.

The infernal machine dinged, and she blinked when her husband stepped through the doors. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he greeted shortly.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she replied, resisting the urge to smirk.

They stood in silence, feigning disinterest in each other as they waited for the elevator doors to close. When no one else joined them in the compartment, Draco pounced.

Hermione barely had time to react as her husband backed her against the wall of the lift, slapped one hand over her mouth, and slipped the other beneath her skirt. She gasped behind his hand as he slammed two fingers into her swollen cunt, still damp from his earlier treatment. Hermione melted against the wall with a low moan, hiking one leg over his hip.

“Oh! Fuck!”

Draco curled his fingers, rubbing her g-spot until she keened. “Do you like that, my naughty girl? Like me finger-fucking you right in this lift that everyone here uses? What would they say if they could see you now? Perfect little Granger, moaning like a cock-hungry whore while she gets fingered right here in the Ministry…what would everyone think of you then, huh?”

Hermione’s eyes rolled back into her head, her moans and whimpers muffled by her husband’s hand.

“Your pussy is clenching so tightly around my fingers. Are you close, love? Going to come for me?” Draco smirked.

“Oh, yes! Yes, yes, please, Sir, let me-”

The lift began to grind to a halt, so Draco withdrew his fingers, much to his wife’s dismay. He smoothly slid his hand around her waist and guided her to lean against him as the doors slid open. Hermione buried her flushed face in her husband’s chest, panting into his fine suit.

Draco kissed the top of her head and stroked her back soothingly. The new boarders arched curious brows in their direction, as the infamous Malfoy couple didn’t tend to show affection in public, but looked away respectively.

Hermione lifted her pleading brown eyes, and Draco smirked in response. “Consequences, love.”

She whimpered against his neck.

The rest of the day was just as torturous for Hermione. He accosted her almost everywhere she turned: in her office, in an empty conference room, and even in the women’s restroom. Every time, he’d either slip his hand beneath her skirt or get down on his knees and drive her to the brink, only to deny her the precious plunge at the last moment, no matter how hard she begged him.

It was probably the least productive work day she’d ever had. She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d had to cast Scourgify on her thighs.

By the time she stumbled home through the Floo, Hermione was on the verge of either crying or screaming from sheer desperation to come. He’d never edged her this hard before, and it was driving her barmy.

In a very un-Hermione like fashion, she tossed her work things carelessly aside before tearing off her clothing less she suffocate from one more moment of their constriction. She then vanished them all upstairs and out of sight. Draco was particular about organization, and definitely wasn’t above prolonging her punishment should she intentionally leave a mess lying around.

When her husband stepped through the Floo, she practically launched herself at him, kissing him ferociously. Draco’s arms slithered around her waist, his tongue happily clashing with her own. When her lungs cried for breath, Hermione drew back and looked up at him imploringly.

“Draco, please, I don’t think I can take anymore…please, please-”

Draco hushed her, stroking her cheek and kissing her tenderly. “Sh, shh, it’s alright love, I hear you. You’ve done so well today, pet. I’m so proud of you.” Hermione smiled a bit, his genuine praise warming her insides. Draco rubbed her arms and back soothingly, whispering more praise and compliments into her ear. Slowly, she relaxed against him, mewling in content as he trailed chaste kisses down her neck. “There you go, that’s my princess,” Draco cooed, bumping his nose against hers affectionately.

“Mm, thank you, Sir. I feel better,” Hermione sighed, nuzzling his neck.

“Good. Now I want you to listen, pet. I want you to hold out just a bit longer for me,” said Draco, drawing an alarmed look from his wife. “Just a little longer, love. I know you can do it,” he purred encouragingly.

Hermione drew in a deep, shaky breath before nodding submissively. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

Draco beamed. “That’s my girl. But don’t worry…I wouldn’t dream of not rewarding my pet when she’s been so good. So, to hold you over for the time being, I’m going to give you something I know you love.”

Frankly, Hermione had no clue what she could possibly love more than an orgasm right now, but she trusted him.

Draco hoisted his wife into his arms and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. There, he lowered her onto their large bed and kissed her forehead.

“Hands above your head,” he ordered, sliding his suit jacket off. Hermione swallowed and obeyed, eyes darkening as she watched him unbutton his cuffs and roll his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. Her gaze slid down to the sizable bulge in his trousers, and she squeezed her thighs together as she imagined it inside her.

Fuck, she needed him inside her.

Draco smirked as he followed her gaze. “All in due time, pet,” he hummed, withdrawing his wand. Muttering a spell, Hermione felt restraints wrap themselves around her wrists.

“Legs apart.”

Her legs slid across the Egyptian cotton sheets as she spread them.

“Wider.”

Pursing her lips, the Gryffindor separated her legs as far as she could. Draco nodded with satisfaction, and with another wave of his wand, more restraints shot out of the bed posts and clamped around her ankles.

Hermione’s heart raced excitedly. “Alright, pet? Not too tight?” he inquired. She flexed her arms and legs experimentally, and shook her head. “Excellent,” Draco smiled, setting his wand aside. Then, with a murmured Accio, a candle flew into his hand.

Hermione’s eyes bulged.

“Sir-” she whispered, but was interrupted when Draco mumbled yet another spell, and her vision was completely obstructed by the blindfold that materialized before her. Hermione’s heart was beating so fast, she was certain it would fly out of her chest.

She absolutely loved wax play, but Draco didn’t often agree to do it for her. The first time they tried it, he held the candle too close to her skin and accidentally burned her. They were able to heal it right up with no scar in sight, but Draco had been horrified. No matter how much Hermione reassured him that she wasn’t angry and no lasting harm had been done, he beat himself up about it for nearly a week. It took months before she convinced him to try again, but even then, he refused to so much as touch a candle until he’d researched it thoroughly. Their second time around went much better, but Draco still remained wary of using wax on her.

The fact that he was offering this, without her even having to ask for it, made Hermione’s heart swell with both love and pride for her husband.

The gentle crackling of a small flame made the Gryffindor squirm impatiently. The scent of vanilla and bergamot permeated the air, and Hermione was practically vibrating with elation.

Draco smoothed a hand over her stomach and breasts, chuckling a little at her jitters. “Are you ready for your reward, pet?” Hermione nodded so hard her neck ached.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Gatsby, Sir. Please, hurry – OH GOD!”  

Three little drops of hot wax plopped onto her stomach, making her yelp. The burning lasted only a moment before tapering off, leaving a glorious warmth behind that made her mewl in approval.

“How is it, love? Not too hot?” Draco asked. His tone was steady, but Hermione heard the miniscule warble of concern.

“It’s perfect, Sir. I love it. Thank you, Sir!” she sighed, eager to reassure him. Though she couldn’t see it, Draco visibly relaxed. He hid it well, but secretly, he always braced himself for the awful cry of pain she gave the first time he’d poured hot wax on her. He never wanted to hear such a sound come out of her ever again.

As he paused, Hermione began to wriggle. “Oh, don’t stop! More, Sir! Please!”

Draco chuckled. “You do beg so prettily for me, pet.”

Holding it a safe distance away, he tilted the candle so that several more drops of wax descended onto her lovely skin. Hermione squealed as he dripped a trail up her stomach, the mild pain shooting sparks of arousal across her spine. With her vision taken away, her senses were heightened, and she couldn’t tell where he’d place the wax next.

Slowly, Draco directed the candle further up her torso, practicing extra caution as he reached the more sensitive parts of her body. Hermione’s breathing grew ragged as she felt the wax splash across her chest, steadily climbing the swell of her breast. Then, he poured a single drop directly onto her pebbled nipple, and she howled in delight.

“Fuck, Draco, yes!”

Draco swallowed, erection stirring in his pants as her moans grew louder and louder.

Finally, her chest and stomach were plastered beautifully in wax, and his wife was panting and writhing in pleasure.

Draco blew out the candle and set it aside before climbing atop Hermione, brushing his lips against hers teasingly. “It’s time, pet,” he whispered. She opened her mouth to reply, but whatever she’d been planning to say dissolved into a wail as her husband crawled down her body and attached his mouth to her clit.

Overwrought with sensitivity, it didn’t take long for Hermione’s back to arch off the bed, the wax cracking off her skin at the movement. “FUCK! Oh, oh, gods Draco, S-Sir, I-I’m so close! Please, don’t stop, let me come, please-”

“Come,” he growled against her.

Hermione released an animalistic cry, arms and legs tugging at the restraints as her entire body attempted to fold backwards on itself at the exploding force that was her orgasm. Her head swam as the pleasure kept rolling through her, as though it would never stop.

She hadn’t the foggiest clue how much time had passed when her body finally relaxed, it could have been hours for all she knew. However, Hermione didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, because she’d just noticed that Draco’s mouth still hadn’t left her cunt.

In fact, she realized with growing alarm, he was still lapping at her clit. Once her mind registered this fact, her body caught up, the brief numbness that had overtaken her retreating as pleasure so intense that it hurt shot through her.

“AH! Oh m – go – Dra – oh!” Hermione choked, her tongue stumbling over the most basic of words. Draco showed no mercy, sucking her swollen little clit into his mouth until she screamed. Like a bludger to the head, a second orgasm overtook Hermione out of nowhere. Every cell in her body seemed to twist with agonized pleasure.

Though more intense than the first orgasm, this one only lasted a few seconds. The Gryffindor slumped against the bed, lungs gasping for air –

But Draco still didn’t move his head out from her thighs.

Hermione shrieked when he started working her towards a third climax, fighting her restraints as she tried to squirm away. “N-No – fuck! – no more Draco, please! I-I-I can’t-”

Draco kissed her thigh soothingly. “Yes you can, pet. One more for me. You can do it, I know you can.”

Hermione whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes. She wanted to scream at him, say that no, there was absolutely no fucking way she could manage another.      

But…he believed in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing him. Plus, she trusted him. He’d always been skilled at pushing her, teaching her things about her body that she could have never discovered on her own.

Sighing shakily, Hermione nodded her consent. “Good girl,” Draco cooed before diving back in. She pressed her lips together, trying to get past the pain. Her clit was too overstimulated, screaming to be freed of his talented mouth. The Gryffindor whined, lips curling in preparation to blurt out her safe word.

But then, Draco inserted a finger to caress her inner walls. Hermione gasped half in pleasure and half in surprise as the pain ebbed away.

“Oh…oh…Draco,” she moaned, melting into the sheets. She felt him smile against her clit as he lovingly stroked her g-spot, carefully building her up to that precious peak.

“That feels – god – that feels so good,” Hermione keened.

“S-Sir please, can I see you?” Her request was swiftly followed by the blindfold vanishing before her eyes. She blinked as the room came back into focus, then cast her gaze down. Draco’s silver pools reflected such tenderness and pride, that Hermione felt herself tumbling over the edge with a hoarse cry. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, to the point that her vision doubled.

When she came back down, Draco had risen, chin glistening with her arousal. “Well done, pet. You did so well, so well. I’m so proud of you,” he gasped as he undid his belt. Hermione mewled at both his praise and the sight of his swollen cock.

“You see this, pet? You see what you do to me? That’s all for you, love. I’m yours, just like you’re mine, isn’t that right, pet?” Draco growled, rubbing his length along her soaked cunt.

“Oh yes, Draco! I’m all yours!” she cried, lifting her hips in attempt to get him to slide into her.

Her husband’s eyes darkened. “Again. Say it again!”

Hermione gasped as he barely pressed the tip into her entrance and held it there. “God Draco, I’m yours! Completely yours! I belong to you!”

“Yesss,” he hissed as he finally pushed into her. With his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, brow set in a deep furrow, and eyes rolled back into his head, Draco sheathed himself inside her completely. A stab of pride overtook Hermione at the sight of his glorious expression.

She had done that to him. For as much as he denied her all day long, he’d denied himself just as much.

“Hermione…fuck!” Draco rasped, wasting no time in pounding into her with earnest. She cried out as he finally fucked her, muttering a string of unintelligible nonsense that resembled, “Yes,” “Draco,” and “Fuck me.”

Draco wasn’t doing much better.

“Hermione, oh! Fuck, my girl – my princess – mine – all of you – this perfect cunt – those pretty tits – your adorable arse, fuck! So beautiful, love – so beautiful with my cock inside you – don’t even know – love you so much – every beautiful bit of you is all – fucking – mine!”

Draco accentuated his breathless words with forceful thrusts, her wanton moans music to his ears.

Hermione was in heaven, loving how unhinged and desperate her husband had grown. The feeling of him plunging into her like a jackhammer was indescribable.

“Oh fuck! Love, I’m gonna come – but want you to come too – please, one more time for me – want to make you feel so good…” Draco’s expression morphed until it looked almost pained, hips stuttering as though he wanted to slow down, but couldn’t.

However, he needn’t have worried. For as if Hermione’s body had conditioned itself to come on his command, she suddenly found herself screaming as she shattered brutally around him. Draco screamed with her, throwing his head back as he spilled himself deep inside her womb.

Hermione tried to keep her eyes open, wishing to admire the sight of him coming unraveled, but the world spun insistently, forcing her to close them.

When she managed to peel those tired eyes back open again, Hermione found that her limbs had been freed of their restraints. Not only that, but all the wax had been cleaned off her torso, and her husband was sitting on the bed wiping her brow with a cool cloth.

His tense expression crumpled in relief when she met his gaze. “Back with me, love?” he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, stretching out languidly. “Mm…how long was I out for?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?” Draco replied, dabbing the cloth against the red marks that littered her chest. She sighed in content, happy to lay there and let him take care of her.

“You had me a bit worried for a moment there. I know you wanted me to fuck you until you passed out, but…I didn’t actually expect you to faint like that,” he chuckled nervously.

Hermione blinked at the news. She thought she had just fallen asleep. It didn’t occur to her that she’d actually lost consciousness.

“Wow…so that’s what that feels like.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Well done, Sir.”

Draco allowed himself smirked a little. “I aim to please.”

Hermione guided him to press the cloth against her cheek, and she leaned into his touch with a yawn.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she sighed, “but you’ll probably have to carry me everywhere tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll be able to move from this bed on my own.”

Though her body was very much numb at the moment, Hermione knew that come morning, her limbs would be on strike from the trials she’d put them through.

She felt Draco’s lips against her brow. “It’s the weekend, love. You can stay in bed all day long, like an adorable, lazy little lump on a log.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled drunkenly at her love. She opened her arms for a cuddle and he obliged, sliding into bed beside her and pulling her against him. “Stay and be a lump with me.”

Draco bellowed a rare laugh. “As you wish, pet.”

Chapter Text

The very floor beneath her feet was vibrating with the intense bass booming throughout the entire club. Hermione had to give this place credit; the atmosphere was surprisingly inviting, the décor classy but modern, though she could do without all the blinding lights. It also wasn’t nearly as filthy as she was expecting, and the music selection so far was actually quite tasteful, not like the shallow pop drivel normally played at these types of places.

Unfortunately, all these things didn’t erase the fact that Hermione was dragged here against her will on her night off.

Clubs in general really weren’t her thing. The amount of people was downright claustrophobic, the constant flashing lights and pounding music were anxiety inducing, and every previous experience in one ended with her nearly hexing the bollocks off some fucker that tried to grope her.

She could have spent her precious night off at home, curled up in her favorite loveseat with Crookshanks purring in her lap and her newest read in hand. But no, instead she was accosted by an overzealous, overeager, and overly strong Ginevra Weasley, stuffed into a dress she never would have worn by choice, had her hair yanked and pulled into submission, her face poked and prodded with brushes and sponges, and physically hauled to this packed club.

Hermione could only huff a sigh and sip balefully at her White Russian. She half-heartedly scanned the room for Ginny, given that the redhead had predictably fucked off shortly after their arrival to flounce about and “take her pick of the crop,” as she called it. She and Harry were allegedly taking a break, and it seemed Ginny was all too happy to spread her wings and enjoy what others had to offer in the meantime. Hermione was glad for her friend, but she wished that Ginny didn’t feel the need to drag her along for similar experiences.

Ginny meant well, Hermione knew that. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that she’d not had any serious relationships since she and Ron split last year, and just like any woman, she had plenty of urges and longings to for intimacy. However, unlike confident social butterfly Ginny, Hermione had never easily clicked with others. She’d never been one to sleep with strangers or have casual sex. Her precious teenage years robbed by war had diminished such possibilities.

She couldn’t even trust the drink given to her by some random muggle bartender without casting a poison detection charm on it first, much less trust a complete stranger with her body. Sadly, Hermione doubted the paranoia established within her by the war would ever fully evaporate.

Heaving another sigh, she finished her cocktail and signaled the bartender for another. At least the drinks here were good.

As Hermione pondered slipping out while Ginny was occupied, a flash of pale blond from her peripherals drew her gaze. Briefly, her eyes flitted to the man beside her, initially only mildly curious about the familiar shade of platinum that reminded her of a certain menace-turned-victim from her school days. Then, one double and triple take later, Hermione realized with mind-boggling shock that that head of blond hair belonged to the very menace himself.

“Draco Malfoy…” she breathed without thinking.

Immediately, Hermione’s brain screamed at her for speaking his name aloud.

The hope that her voice had been drowned out by the music was dashed when he tensed beside her, his glass of scotch pausing on the way to his mouth. With what could only be described as trepidation, Malfoy pursed his lips and slowly turned to meet her gaze. She watched, equally as anxious, as his silver gaze filled with recognition, followed by the briefest flicker of panic, then abruptly closed off, leaving a blank sort of confusion.

“…Granger,” he murmured.

Hermione took a moment to respond, jarred by the series of emotions she’d watched flash across his face in the span of a second. She’d only ever seen him display sneers and haughtiness, aside from the time he’d watched her scream and writhe on the floor of his ancestral home with barely restrained horror. But she didn’t care to think about that.

“What, uh…what are you doing here?” Hermione asked, not accusingly, but not unguarded either.

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked down into his glass of scotch, expression unreadable as he downed a hearty gulp of the liquid. For a moment, she thought he may not answer her; not that Hermione would blame him, she supposed she was being a tad rude, after all. But she couldn’t help it. The sight of him there was simply too unexpected and too puzzling for her unquenchable curiosity to leave alone.

“By that, I suppose you mean what am I doing here, in a muggle club, in the middle of muggle London, as opposed to rotting away in my mansion like everyone else thinks I should be doing?” Malfoy replied flatly.

Hermione frowned, taken aback by the self-deprecation. “Well I certainly wasn’t thinking nor implying that last part, but as for the rest of it, yes.”

The Slytherin snorted. “No need for false sympathy Granger, you have more reason than most for wishing such a fate upon me.” Her mouth hung open dumbly for a moment, wondering what on earth she was supposed to say to that, but he spared her from answering. “My friend Blaise owns this place. Back when he first opened it, he badgered me into coming at least once a week in exchange for free drinks. So here I am.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. “Blaise…as in, Blaise Zabini?” she asked incredulously.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Unless you know of any other insufferable twats we attended school with by the same name, then yes, the very same.”

Hermione’s head reeled. “But…he’s a…I mean-”

Malfoy arched a brow in her direction, looking faintly amused. “A pureblood? Is that what you’re going for, Granger?”

Her mouth snapped shut as her brain very unhelpfully decided to take notice of how attractive the expression was on him.

“Actually, I was going to say Slytherin, but yes, that too, I suppose,” she bit out, determined not to let him get to her.

Malfoy only shrugged. “Blaise was never like the others. Never gave a damn about house or blood superiority. Honestly, if the prat weren’t so bloody smug and ambitious, he probably would’ve been in Hufflepuff.”

Confused by his continuous lack of hostility, Hermione found herself chuckling hysterically at his words. “Draco Malfoy, friends with a Hufflepuff? Wouldn’t that be something.”

Malfoy eyed her inscrutably. “No stranger than Draco Malfoy sitting alone in a muggle nightclub on a Friday night chit-chatting with Golden Girl Granger.”

“I suppose you have a point,” she acquiesced, wincing at the nickname. A brief, awkward silence passed between them, both trying and failing to figure out what to make of their vastly unforeseen situation.

Hermione had not seen nor heard much of Draco Malfoy since testifying at his trial three years ago. He, along with his mother, both seemed to have vanished into the depths of their manor following their fall from grace, barely escaping Azkaban sentences in exchange for house arrest and a lengthy probationary period for their part in the war. The once great and revered Malfoy name was now spat like a curse by any that spoke it, the family themselves and anyone associated with them shunned by their post-war society.

In light of such facts, Hermione figured it should make sense that he’d prefer to lurk around muggle establishments, given that no one in the non-magical world knew who he was; but her engraved memories of his relentless, condescending hatred of muggles and muggleborns struggled to believe it.

Studying him from behind the rim of her glass, Hermione hesitantly admitted that, even upon superficial glance, the effects of the war and his new status as a pariah were painfully obvious. Gone was the ever-present cockiness in his stance, gone were the arrogant smirks and nasty sneers he used to wear almost as often as shoes, and gone was every trace of stiff elegance that once ruled his posture.

Now, Malfoy merely sat there like any man, staring down into his drink as he absently swirled the liquid around with an empty gaze. It reminded her uncannily of his behavior in sixth year, except now he at least looked physically healthy.

It was then that Hermione understood, possibly better than she would have liked; the Draco Malfoy that sat before her was not one that she knew, not even a little bit.

He, just like her, just like Harry, Ron, and virtually all of Wizarding England, had been broken by the war. For one fleeting moment of insanity, Hermione mourned his former self, only because it was yet another piece of her childhood that had been shattered by Voldemort’s reign.

But perhaps, a small part of her thought, that didn’t mean she couldn’t get to know this new Malfoy. After all, he did look like he could use the company; and, an even smaller part of her that she’d never openly acknowledge was suddenly terribly curious about this new mystery Draco, who hung out in muggle clubs and had muggle-loving friends and walked around in muggle clothes–

Holy shit, he was wearing muggle clothes, why was she only noticing this now?

Before she knew it, a blush rose on Hermione’s traitorous face as her equally traitorous eyes roved appreciatively over his navy blue flannel with the top three buttons popped open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans that clung nicely to his shapely–

AH! Hermione, stop!

“So, what’s mighty war heroine Granger doing in a place like this, anyway? Is the Weasel here with you?” Malfoy asked suddenly.

Hermione took a moment to register the question. Was he smirking, or was she just imagining it? Maybe she was simply paranoid because she’d just been blatantly checking him out.

Finally, she cleared her throat and replied, “If you’re referring to Ronald, no, he’s not here, thankfully. Ginny is though, she’s the one that dragged me here.”

The Slytherin cocked a brow. “Thankfully? You and Weaselbee going through a rough patch, are you?”

Hermione instinctively bristled, but forced herself to cool down given that she and Ron had no romantic relationship to speak of anymore, and the fact that Malfoy’s tone was more curious than taunting. “That would be impossible considering Ron and I broke up about a year ago. Things are just still a bit…awkward between us,” she explained, mentally bracing herself for any level of derogatory comments.

Malfoy blinked, visibly taken aback by the news. “…Huh,” he mumbled, pausing to take a sip from his glass. “You were always too good for that tosser, anyway.”

If she’d been drinking, Hermione would have choked. She was almost tempted to cast Finite Incantum, because it would have been far easier to accept that she was stuck in some sort of illusion than acknowledge that Draco Malfoy just paid her a genuine compliment, even if it did come at the expense of her ex.

Malfoy noticed her befuddled expression and rolled his eyes. “Oh come on Granger, surely you’re not that blind. Any bloke at school with half a brain would say that Weasley wasn’t worth even a fraction of you. He was a blubbering, obnoxious, hot-headed twit that took you for granted even though you were the only reason he passed any of his classes. Honestly, I never understood why you gave him the time of day. I bet the immature sod hardly knew what to do with you once he finally pulled his head out of his arse long enough to realize you were even a woman.”

Hermione sat still in an utter daze, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The media had had a field day – no, more like a field month – when she and Ron announced their separation. Journalists and reporters from all over the country tore the story apart, overanalyzing every little public interaction and brief statement to create the wildest tale possible, trying to figure out what could have caused the famous Golden couple to split. All manner of outrageous claims were made, from Ron cheating on her, to her cheating on him, to some ridiculous love triangle between she, Ron, and Harry that had never been fully resolved.

Rita Skeeter even took comments made by her and Harry during the first annual memorial for the Second Great Wizarding War and blew them way out of context, framing them as though they were alluding to hidden feelings for the other. Both Hermione and Ginny had stormed the Prophet to scream at and threaten the conniving bitch until she was given no choice but to write a retraction, or resign. She chose the former, much to Hermione’s chagrin.

Unfortunately, the public weren’t the only ones to give them grief over her and Ron’s failed relationship. Molly Weasley had been devastated, her heart set on having Hermione as a daughter-in-law for years. In fact, nearly all of the Weasleys had been a bit tense around her for months afterwards, which had hurt far more than she ever cared to admit. Harry had been carefully supportive of both her and Ron, not wanting to pick sides, but Hermione could see how hard it was on him to see his two best friends at such heart-wrenching odds. Though he never said so aloud, she knew Harry had been excited about the prospect of them all being one big family.

The only one that hadn’t changed much around her had been Ginny; she was the only one that had actually expressed relief at the break up, the only one that hadn’t pressed her for details or badgered her into giving Ron another shot.

“You were so miserable with him, ‘Mione,” Ginny had said. “All you did was drag each other down. I know it’s hard now, but I really do think this is ultimately for the best.”

Without Ginny, Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d ever have gained the strength to end things with Ron. Though she’d loved him, and he’d loved her, it hadn’t been enough. They were too incompatible, their opposite personalities and vastly different interests proving too great a hurdle to clear.

It had hurt gravely to end it…but Hermione also couldn’t deny the great breath of relief she’d taken once it was over.

However, despite Ginny’s greatly needed support, Hermione had never felt completely comfortable with ranting about all of Ron’s shortcomings to her. Though Ginny was undoubtedly her best female friend, she was also Ron’s sister, and fiercely loyal to her family. Hermione couldn’t bear to expose her to the nastier side of her brother, didn’t want to see the look on Ginny’s pretty face if she knew some of the awful, deeply hurtful things he’d screamed at her in their darkest moments – nor the unforgivable things she shrieked at him in return.

The fact that Malfoy, someone she barely knew outside of trading schoolyard insults and petty rivalries, had apparently paid enough attention to her to immediately pinpoint all her grievances with Ron effortlessly floored her. The idea that Draco Malfoy – her longtime rival, school bully, and eventual enemy – was perhaps the only person that was truly, one-hundred-percent on her side made her head pound and her heart race.

“I-I’m surprised you never saw anything about it in the paper. It was on the front page for weeks,” Hermione rushed out, deciding that changing the subject was preferable to deconstructing whatever the hell that was.

Malfoy’s eyes dimmed. “I don’t read the Prophet anymore.”

She looked down, the undercurrent in his tone preventing any follow up questions. She could probably venture a few guesses as to why herself, anyway.

“Well…you’re certainly not missing much,” she offered.

Malfoy snorted. “Let me guess, more endless drivel about some noble, old pureblooded wanker having a change of heart? Has Madam Puddifoot’s been investigated for yet another illegal substance? Or perhaps the Chudley Cannons have finally figured out how to hit a quaffle? I’m sure it’s all very riveting.”

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself laughing. She quickly covered her mouth as they looked at each other with mild shock, apparently having similar thoughts about the unfamiliar interaction.

Malfoy’s gaze darted back down to his drink, the tips of his ears turning red.

Great Godric, was he blushing? Fuck, that was adorable.

Hermione drummed her fingers nervously on the bar top. Never in several hundred years would she have ever seen herself sitting in a busy muggle club joking around with Draco Malfoy. Strangely enough however, she found that she…didn’t hate it. This post-war Malfoy was entirely new territory for her, and Hermione found herself wanting to explore every inch of him.

…Shite, that came out wrong. She didn’t mean physically, of course! Just metaphorically!

“You’re…different, Malfoy,” she observed aloud, never being one to beat around the bush.

He didn’t answer for several beats. “Yeah, well,” he began wryly, “when you find yourself on the wrong side of a war because you’re too much of a fucking coward to do anything right – something which everyone loves to remind you of whenever you dare set foot out in public – your entire system of beliefs and everything you know is turned on its head, and you can’t so much as send an owl without running it by some Auror schmuck first because the Ministry is desperate for any excuse to throw your sorry arse in Azkaban…you tend to grow up a bit.”

Hermione blinked rapidly at the unexpected rant. Frankly, she was grappling with the idea of him being so willing to divulge such personal things to her, especially when it was so painfully clear how much he was struggling. The same thought seemed to occur to Malfoy, who gave her a sheepish, stunned look before abruptly averting his gaze. His face flushed with shame and he gripped his glass so hard that his fingertips turned white.

It was then that a disturbing and alarming realization dawned on Hermione.

Malfoy was scared. Of her.

Oh, how smug her younger self would have been if this had happened back then. But now…it just made her sad.

Just how horridly had he been treated since the end of the war that he felt the need to protect himself from her of all people? Was he expecting her to take revenge on him for all those years at Hogwarts? Her, the so-called bleeding heart and peacekeeper of the Golden Trio?

Then again…maybe it was the very fact that because it was her that he was so anxious. Hermione was no fool, she was all too aware of her golden public image and high regard in the Wizarding World, and how drastically it encompassed his own reputation; she also knew because of that, it was very possible that she could get away with doing whatever she liked to him and the public would see it as the great, almighty Golden Girl giving the ex-Death Eater exactly what he deserved. At best, she may get a slap on the wrist, but would ultimately come out unscathed.

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly feeling a bizarre mixture of indignance and sorrow. Not even Draco Malfoy deserved to have fallen this far, especially when he was so plainly ashamed of it all. Hermione could practically feel the remorse and self-hatred clinging to him like a leech; another victim of Voldemort’s terrible rule.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous!” the Gryffindor proclaimed suddenly, causing Malfoy to jump in his seat. “Wasn’t your probation supposed to be over a year ago? Why are they still monitoring you so heavily?”

Malfoy smiled sardonically. “Bastards extended it, of course. Weren’t satisfied with me following all their stupid rules. I told you, they want to throw me in Azkaban, so they’ll keep finding excuses to keep me on probation until they finally catch me doing something ‘evil’ enough to drag me off.”

Hermione clenched her fists, disgusted at the Ministry’s obvious bias. Malfoy noticed her consternation, and gave a slight huff of laughter. “It’s really not that big a deal. Honestly, it’s even better treatment than I expected. I get that standing up for the poor and pathetic is sort of your thing, but don’t waste your energy on me, Granger. I’m not worth it.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think!” Hermione declared, ignoring the slight jab at her. “That’s deplorable! How does the Wizengamot think we’re going to move past this war if they keep favoring and punishing people because of it!? You were already tried, and you’ve served your sentence! Those old fools need to move on and stop giving you grief over this!”

Malfoy looked genuinely taken aback by her vehement defense of him. He ran a hand down his face, a red tinge creeping across his neck. “Granger-” he began tiredly, but Hermione was not done.

“Honestly! They love to preach about unity and healing, but they can’t even let go of a grudge against a teenage boy who hardly even did anything worth mentioning compared to others!”

At this, Malfoy frowned deeply. “Granger…don’t even try and act like I was some poor, innocent bystander. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten it was me that cursed Katie Bell, poisoned your ex, and let Death Eaters into Hogwarts.”

Hermione shook her head. “I never said you were innocent, I said that compared to others on your side, you hardly did a thing. I read your file before your trial, Malfoy. You never even killed anyone. That’s a claim not even I can make. Do you realize how absurd that is? Wizarding England’s precious Golden Girl has killed, but a former Death Eater hasn’t. Yet they keep hounding you, unfairly extending your probation, and searching aimlessly for a reason to lock you up.”

She paused to take a breath, not noticing the astonished look Malfoy was sending her.

“I know you made mistakes, Malfoy. I also know you were a Death Eater. I’m just saying…you weren’t a very good one,” she finished tentatively, unsure how he’d take her teasing.

Chancing a peek at him, Hermione’s heart stuttered at the gentle smirk pulling at his lips. “Well, you’re not wrong there,” Malfoy agreed quietly. She allowed herself to stare at him a moment longer, noticing how the changing lights reflected beautifully off his silver eyes.

“Yes, well,” she said quickly, clearing her throat, “it’s just not right, none of it. I’m sorry you’ve been treated so horrendously, Malfoy.”

At this, his expression suddenly closed.

"Don't."

Hermione jerked slightly at his firm, warbled tone. He turned away from her, his lovely features contorting as though he were in pain. “Don’t ever apologize to me, Granger. You are the absolute last person that should ever feel the need to apologize to me. I owe you everything…you owe me nothing.”

She gaped openly. “Now, wait just a minute-”

“Granger, can you-” Malfoy raked a hand through his hair, “-just…shut up for a moment. I need to say this.”

Hermione’s mouth snapped closed, heart racing.

The Slytherin knocked back the rest of his drink, slamming his glass down on the bar top. Then, as though it took all the strength in his body, Malfoy turned and began speaking. “I’m well aware that nothing I say or do will ever make up for the hell I put you through in school. I was a horrid, selfish little prat who was in way over his head, and I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. I wasted all my time trying to be the person my father wanted me to be, and I never even stopped to consider what that really meant. So, even though it doesn’t mean shite in the long run, just know that I am-” he swallowed harshly, “-truly sorry. For everything.”

The noise from the club barely registered anymore. Though his words had been spoken at barely above a whisper, he might as well have yelled them at her with how they were replaying inside her head.

Hermione was speaking before she even realized her mouth had opened. “We were children, Malfoy. You were simply a product of your upbringing repeating everything that had been taught to you. Besides,” she allowed herself to smirk a little, “it’s not like you ever did any real damage. You just sneered and complained a lot.”

She paused with a sigh. “In the end, I’m not going to let myself be held back by what was essentially nothing more than a silly schoolyard rivalry, and I don’t think you should either. We’re adults now, and that’s all in the past. I’m not angry or upset with you. I haven’t been for a long time.”

Malfoy pursed his lips in displeasure. “You give me too much credit, Granger. Far too much credit. Frankly, I don’t know how you can even stomach sitting here with me. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten I was there when my insane bitch of an aunt carved that – that – that…into your arm.”

Hermione visibly flinched, subconsciously clutching her arm where her heavily disillusioned scar was.

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “Shit, Granger, I-I didn’t mean-”

Hermione shook her head quickly. Honestly, she didn’t know if she could handle two heartfelt Malfoy apologies in one night; her head was still reeling from the first one.

She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I’m…tired, Malfoy...of a lot of things. I’m tired of fighting and adventure. I’m tired of the limelight. I’m tired of everyone expecting the world from me, and feeling like I have to meet their standards because of my past and reputation. I’m just tired. I realized shortly after the war ended that I didn’t have the energy or room in my heart for hatred and grudges. So, I chose to let go. Whether or not you believe me is up to you, but the truth is I forgave you years ago. To hold on after…after everything would just be petty and damaging. So, I forgive you.”

Malfoy was staring at her with wonder, as though she were some creature he’d never seen before. For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought his eyes looked suspiciously glossy.

He cleared his throat, looking down without a word. A brief silence stretched between them, not quite comfortable, but not nearly as tense as before.

“…Thank you, though,” the Gryffindor spoke softly, “for your apology. It…means a lot.”

He slowly shook his head. “It was the least I could do. And, um…thank you as well, Granger. For your forgiveness. Merlin knows I don’t deserve it.”

“It’s not about whether or not you deserve it, Malfoy. It’s me choosing not to allow myself to be poisoned by some stupid grudge.” She quirked a brow at him. “Not everything is about you, y’know.”

Malfoy chuckled, and Hermione felt strangely proud for making him laugh. “I suppose you may be right,” he drawled sarcastically.

She scoffed. “I’m the Brightest Witch of Our Age, Malfoy. I’m always right.” They both snickered. “Maybe…maybe you should consider doing the same. Forgiving yourself, I mean,” the Gryffindor suggested tentatively.

Malfoy sighed. “Easier said than done, Granger. After all, I’ve spent the last three years wallowing in my mistakes. What ever will I do with my free time if I just let all that go?”

Hermione gave a little half smile at his degrading humor. “Well, if you ever feel up to it, I know a great mind healer that helped me out a lot after the war. Or…you could just talk to me. Since you’ve already got a head start, and all.”

Malfoy studied her silently for a moment. Then, the slightest of grins tugged at his lips. Hermione found herself smiling back, her chest and stomach fluttering at his expression.

“Gods, I wish he would smile at me like that all the time.”

The sudden intrusive thought stole her breath. Hermione felt her face flush, a sensation like glowing embers alighting from the pile of ashes that was her withered heart warming her all the way through. She hadn’t felt such a raw, genuine spark with anyone since…since…since Ron had kissed her in the Chamber of Secrets.

But even that heart stopping moment had been fueled mostly by adrenaline, and ultimately overshadowed by the battle going on around them.

This felt so…natural, so promising, so real.

After her and Ron’s disastrous break up, Hermione had honestly wondered if she’d ever feel this way again. It scared her more than words could say, but also excited her beyond measure.

“Do you want to dance?” The words were out of her mouth before her brain could even think about stopping them.

Malfoy was looking at her like she’d grown an extra head. “Dance?” he slowly repeated as though he’d never heard the word before in his life.

Hermione’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, but her Gryffindor courage held fast. “Yes. With me.”

His eyes flitted briefly to the crowded dance floor then back to her. “I – I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Granger…”

She placed her hands on her hips. “And why is that?”

Malfoy swallowed. “Well, I…you – it’s just…”

Hermione fought back a chuckle at how clearly flustered he’d become. “Look Malfoy, if you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But if you’re just floundering for an excuse because you think you shouldn’t for whatever reason, then I can’t accept your refusal.” He shot her a slightly annoyed glance. She cocked her head challengingly. “What’s the matter, Malfoy? Don’t tell me you’re still scared of me!”

As though she’d lit a fire under his arse, Malfoy smacked the bar top and stood up, glaring down at her. “Fucking hell woman, fine! If you’re that desperate for me, then get off your arse and I’ll dance you up until you can hardly walk!”

Smiling triumphantly, Hermione took his offered hand and followed him to the dancefloor, ignoring his disgruntled mutterings that sounded like, “Damn pushy Gryffindor.”

Once they’d worked their way through the crowd, Malfoy placed a hand on her waist and pulled her to him, ensuring to keep a respectable amount of distance between their bodies. Hermione snickered a bit, holding his shoulder with her free hand as he lead them into a box step. “Malfoy, you know this is a club, not a ball, right?”

He sniffed disdainfully. “As if I’d make a fool of myself jumping and flailing about in the ridiculous manner these people call ‘dancing.’ I’d rather take a dip in Black Lake with the giant squid, thank you.”

Hermione gave a massive eyeroll. Though he’d clearly gone through some significant changes, it seemed his aristocratic upbringing had yet to release its hold on him. And people said she needed to loosen up!

Noticing her expression, Malfoy smirked mischievously. “What? Did you want me to grind against you in front of all these people? In that case, all you had to do was ask, Granger.”

The mental image conjured up by his suggestive words made her insides knot. The smarmy Slytherin was undoubtedly expecting her to brush off his provocative quip with a roll of her eyes and a smack to his chest; something the Hermione of three years prior would have done without question.

However, he wasn’t expecting nor prepared for this post war, post-break up Hermione who’d just developed a rapidly blossoming attraction towards him.

Throwing up her eyebrow with a small smile, Hermione replied, “Oh? Well, in that case-” Before Malfoy could blink, the Golden Girl had wound her arms around his neck and yanked him closer. His hands landed on her waist, their faces now inches apart.

Hermione would have laughed at his absolutely bewildered expression if she hadn’t just realized how fucking amazing he smelled.

Squashing the urge to lean closer and take a big inhale – because that wouldn’t be creepy at all – she linked her fingers behind his neck and smirked. “Well, Malfoy? I’m ready to be swept off my feet.”

The Slytherin visibly swallowed, and she smiled wider. Drawing this kind of reaction from him of all people lit a degree of satisfaction in her that she’d not felt in years.

Not to be outdone, Malfoy gathered himself and lifted his chin in a challenging manner. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Granger. You’ve never been romanced by a Malfoy, now have you? I’m not so sure you can handle it.”

Hermione sniggered. “I handled you plenty well back in school, did I not? I gave you quite a walloping in third year, if I recall.”

Sweet Circe, this was happening. She was blatantly flirting with him. And he was actually flirting back. Did it just get a few degrees hotter in here?

As the pair began to subconsciously sway to the music, Malfoy scoffed at her words. “It was hardly a walloping, Granger! You just broke my nose.”

She snorted. “Well, either way, you deserved it.”

He grumbled something under his breath.

“Hm? So sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Hermione crooned.

He scowled down at her playfully. “You are just as insufferable as ever, you know that?”

Rather than incite anger, his little quip made her laugh. She didn’t miss the adorable little smile that tugged insistently on his mouth in response.

“Well, I guess some things will never really change,” Hermione said with a shrug.

Malfoy went silent, gazing at her searchingly for a long moment. “Perhaps,” he said softly, “but a few particular changes I certainly wouldn’t mind…”

Her heart stuttered, brown eyes going wide at the implication of his words. Malfoy copied her expression, as though shocked by what had just come out of his own mouth. He dropped his gaze, eyes darting about for a moment in mild panic. The action caused several strands of platinum hair to fall into his face.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione reached out and tucked the hair back into place. Malfoy jolted, eyes springing back hers as though her touch had electrocuted him.

For several lingering moments, the unlikely pair watched one another in silence. Hermione couldn’t tell if that incessant pounding was coming from the music or her chest. Had he always been so much taller than her?

The hands on her waist suddenly felt like hot, branding iron, and she found herself wanting them all over her. Hermione unconsciously bit her lip at the thought. Malfoy’s eyes darted down to her mouth at the action, something that didn’t escape her notice.

The fragile self-control that had been gripping onto her for dear life then slipped away.

Before she could second-guess herself and ruin everything, Hermione surged forward, capturing his mouth with her own. She could practically feel his astonishment as his whole body went taut; however, that didn’t erase how unbelievably soft his lips were, or how she could taste remnants of scotch and tobacco when she boldly swiped her tongue across his bottom lip.

Did he smoke? She was unbelievably curious to know.

When a few moments passed and Malfoy still hadn’t responded, Hermione was about to pull away and apologize; but then, his hand grasped the back of her neck and pulled her into him until there was no space left between their bodies. She sighed into his mouth as he opened up for her, tongues clashing and teeth knocking with renewed fervor. What the kiss lacked in grace it made up for in passion, leaving them both pining for more.

Only when she started to get dizzy from lack of oxygen did she part from him.

Malfoy’s silver eyes had darkened to more of a grey as he panted against her face. His mouth was smudged red from her lipstick, a sight that caused a possessive stab of arousal in her abdomen.

Desperate to taste more of him, Hermione trailed her lips across his jaw and down his neck, uncaring of where they were or who might be watching them. Malfoy’s hands trembled against her, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Granger…” he breathed. The sound of her name made her moan into his neck.

Without pausing her ministrations, Hermione slid a hand down his chest, where she felt his heart racing beneath his ribcage.

“Malfoy,” she whispered into his ear.

A low rumble arose from his throat, and then he was kissing her again. His lips brushed along her jaw where he placed a warm, wet kiss right against the sensitive spot below her ear. Hermione trembled in his arms, keening softly as he sucked at the spot before laving his tongue against her earlobe.

It was a good thing he was holding her so tightly, otherwise Hermione was certain she’d melt into a puddle at his feet. Merlin, she’d never been so aroused in her life!

Malfoy’s hand wandered down her back and curled tentatively around her arse, as though testing the boundaries of this little…whatever it was. In response, she shamelessly grinded her hips against his, making him groan into her ear. His own arousal was firm and obvious against her belly. Realizing how affected he was by her sent both excitement and nervousness through Hermione.

The Gryffindor was highly aware of where things were headed at this rate; and she’d not slept with anyone since her break up with Ron. In typical Hermione fashion, dozens of intrusive thoughts and queries started bombarding her lust-addled brain.

If she slept with him, would it just be a one-time thing, or was he expecting more? What was she even hoping for from this? Yes, they’d just had a very personal and honest conversation that cleared the air between them, and she wouldn’t even try to deny that she was ridiculously attracted to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she suddenly had feelings for him. Despite their little heart-to-heart, Hermione still didn’t really know Draco. Could she really trust him enough to invite him into her bed?

“Granger?” The soft whisper snapped her attention back to the man she was dancing with. Malfoy eyed her anxiously and said, “Are you alright?”

Hermione blinked, and suddenly, all her worries were washed away in the face of his genuinely concerned expression. She didn’t want him to look like that; she wanted him to smile again. Wanted him to smile at her.

As she placed a hand against his face, Hermione knew her decision was made. She’d spent her late childhood and teenage years making sacrifices, both little and small, for others. A majority of her decisions were made in consideration of the people in her life, of strangers that relied on her, and of those that may be watching; all hazards of constantly being in the limelight.

For once in her life, Hermione wanted to stop thinking and do what she wanted to do, consequences be damned. And right now, she could think of nothing – and no one – that she wanted more than Draco Malfoy.

Leaning forward, Hermione kissed him once, twice, and thrice before inclining herself up to whisper into his ear. “Come back to my place?”

Malfoy drew in a sharp breath. “Granger, you – a-are you sure?”

She nodded, nipping at his jawline. “Yes…I need you.”

Merlin, she’d never even been this bold with Ron! What had this man done to her?

Shuddering, Malfoy kissed her one last time before muttering, “Lead the way.”

Grinning, Hermione took his hand and proceeded to essentially drag him from the club. On the way, she spotted Ginny’s distinct red hair by the DJ booth. Further inspection revealed her to be chatting animatedly with Blaise Zabini, a sight that made Hermione's eyes widen. It seems they were both being accosted by former snakes tonight.

Ginny noticed her just before she’d stepped out of view. The redhead went predictably slack jawed upon noticing her friend leading Draco Malfoy by the hand.

Hermione offered a shy smile, inclining her head in Malfoy’s direction in a silent declaration of intent. Ginny blinked several times before smiling excitedly and sending her two thumbs up.

Relieved and glad to have Ginny’s support, Hermione waved goodbye before hurriedly exiting the club, Malfoy in toe. Once concealed in an empty alley, the Gryffindor apparated them right to her bedroom in her little London flat.

After the brief disorientation passed, Hermione wasted no time wrapping herself around Malfoy, their lips meeting with frenzied need. She ran her hands reverently down the soft fabric of his shirt, spine tingling at the promising feel of what laid beneath it. Impatient, Hermione fumbled with the buttons until she’d freed them all and, with Malfoy’s help, pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She pulled back slightly to take in his lithe, well-built frame, biting her lip as she caressed her way down his chest and stomach. His fair skin was soft aside from the raised flesh of a few prominent scars, but not even those could subtract from his beauty.

“You’re gorgeous…” Hermione unconsciously whispered.

Malfoy’s eyes lit up as he smirked. “Tell me something I don’t know, Granger.”

Her responding scoff dissolved into a moan as he tackled her mouth again. They stumbled backwards until her back met the wall, one of his large hands holding the back of her head protectively while the other swept over the curve of her arse. Hermione hooked one leg around his waist, causing her shoe to slip off her foot and clatter to the floor. They both groaned at his erection pushed against her clothed sex.

Malfoy pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck as he reached around her until he found the zip of her dress. When the stubborn thing got stuck halfway down, he growled lowly before spinning her around.

Hermione gasped as he shoved her chest-first into the wall, his roughness only turning her on more.

Malfoy yanked the zipper the rest of the way down, possibly tearing it in the process, but neither of them were in any headspace to care. Hermione’s dress pooled around her feet, exposing her skin to the cool air.

“Fuck…” Malfoy rasped, grasping her arse firmly in both hands. Hermione moaned as he squeezed each cheek in rough succession. “Sweet Circe, Granger. If I’d known you were hiding this lovely thing under your school robes all those years, I might’ve been a little nicer to you,” Malfoy teased as he continued to fondle her.

Hermione eyed him from over her shoulder with a smirk. “You could still be nice to me now…” she crooned suggestively.

He leaned in and nibbled on her ear, drawing a soft sigh from her. “I suppose…or maybe, for old times’ sake-” His fingers suddenly slipped into her knickers, and she gasped as he rubbed gentle circles into her clit. “-I’ll just tease you for a while instead,” he purred.

"Malfoy…” Hermione moaned breathily.

His breath hitched when he swiped across her entrance, slick and warm with arousal. “So wet…how are you already this wet?” Malfoy breathed with a mixture of excitement and wonder. His words snapped her remaining thread of patience.

Pushing off the wall, Hermione spun around and grasped the Slytherin by his hips. Taking advantage of his surprise, she led him backwards until his calves hit her bedframe, then roughly shoved him down. Malfoy hit the mattress so hard he sprung back up a bit, a sight she might have laughed at were she not so painfully aroused.

Rather than look put-off by her rough treatment, Malfoy’s eyes darkened with lust as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He watched her hungrily as she kicked off her remaining shoe, licked his lips when she unclipped her bra and flung it away, then swallowed as she tugged off her knickers. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of her breathtaking naked form.

Hermione walked her fingers up his clothed erection, making him flinch in surprise. “I’m not in the mood for your teasing, Malfoy,” she drawled, slowly climbing on top of him.

His breathing grew noticeably heavier as she undid his belt. Then, at an agonizing pace, she pulled down his jeans and underwear in one go, yanking his shoes off while she was at it. Hermione rubbed her thighs together when Malfoy’s cock sprung free, fully erect and dripping precum. Unable to resist such an enticing sight, she boldly wrapped her fingers around his shaft and circled the head with her thumb.

“Fuck…” Malfoy gasped, falling back onto the bed with a blissful expression. Hermione smiled proudly at his reaction. Ron had never been very receptive to her taking charge in the bedroom; he let her do it, but never encouraged nor requested it.

Malfoy on the other hand seemed to like her dominating attitude, gazing up at her with hooded, needy eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip. The sight made her confidence soar as she pumped him, reveling in the small grunts and breathy swears he yielded.

However, she could ignore her own pleasure no longer, and decidedly straddled him before positioning him at her entrance.

Realizing her intentions, Malfoy’s eyes widened. “W-Wait.”

Hermione froze, looking up at him warily. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

At her fearful tone, he sat up and kissed her reassuringly. “Don’t be daft, I’m harder than I’ve been in years.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Malfoy drew back, casting her a mildly serious look. “I want to do something for you. Will you let me?”

Hermione’s breath hitched at his husky tone. “What did you have in mind?”

He licked his lips. “I want you to ride my face.”

The Gryffindor blinked in surprise. “R-Ride your-” She paused, face growing warmer at the mental image. “Are you sure? I mean, I haven’t tried that before…will you be able to breathe?”

Malfoy smirked confidently. “Oh? In that case, I want you to do it even more. Not everyday you get to teach the great Hermione Granger something.”

Hermione sniffed at the jab, twisting her fingers together nervously.

Malfoy cupped her cheek gently, leaning in for a deep, longing kiss. “Don’t worry about me, Granger. I want to do this,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me pleasure you, love. I want to taste that beautiful pussy…say that you’ll let me.”

Hermione trembled at his gentle, beseeching tone. She couldn’t recall any of her past partners being so eager to pleasure her in such a way.

Pulling him back in for a fierce kiss, she pushed down her reservations and whispered, “Lie down.”

Malfoy’s eyes shuddered at the command, his cock twitching against her thigh. Without hesitation, he scooted backwards until his head rested nicely against the pillows. Hermione followed and carefully straddled his face, her knees on either side of his head. She could barely see his eyes from this angle, the silver depths wide and fixed upon her dripping cunt. Before lowering herself down Hermione directed him to lay his hands on her thighs. “If you can’t breathe, squeeze my legs twice, alright?” Malfoy nodded tersely at her instructions, clearly ready for her to get on with it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione steadily lowered herself onto his waiting mouth. Malfoy groaned happily between her legs, his eager tongue darting out to caress her throbbing clit. She keened as his hot mouth engulfed her, back arching as she held onto the headboard so she didn’t put her full weight on him. “Malfoy, oh! Gods…”

He hummed when she moaned his name, the vibrations sending her even higher.

Panting, Hermione began gently rocking her hips, giving a high-pitched whine each time her clit bumped his nose. What do you know, those pointy features of his were good for something.

“That’s it, Malfoy…more…mmm, move your tongue just a little faster…ah, yes! Just like that! I’m so close…don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Her heated cries egged him on, his dutiful mouth obeying her every command with delight.

Hermione played with one of her breasts, teasing the nipple into a hardened peak. Malfoy groaned at the sight, and that was her undoing. Her legs shook as she came hard on his tongue, the blinding pleasure making her eyes roll back into her head.

Once her orgasm subsided, Hermione sat back on his chest while she caught her breath. Her thighs and knees were cursing her name right now, but fuck that was so worth it! She couldn’t remember ever coming in such a short amount of time!

“Don’t mean to interrupt, but that lovely arse of yours is currently crushing me,” Malfoy said in a strained voice.

“Oh, sorry,” she sighed, moving down his body so she was straddling his hips.

He sat up on his elbows and smirked. “Wouldn’t have been a terrible way to go, I suppose.” Hermione quirked a grin, eyes roving over his handsome face which was glistening from her juices. The sight awoke something primal within her.

Clutching the back of his head, Hermione guided his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue. She slid her sodden lower lips over his cock, drawing a needy sigh from both of them.

“You did a very good job, Malfoy. I think you deserve a reward,” Hermione purred against his mouth.

Malfoy smirked sinfully. “Wonderful, I was thinking the same thing.”

She scoffed and bit his bottom lip. “Don’t push your luck, Malfoy.”

He shivered beneath her, then pressed his palm to her abdomen and muttered a contraception charm. She was on the potion, but it was still very considerate of him to place the charm.

“Then by all means, Granger…” He slowly lifted his hips so that the head of his cock brushed against her entrance. “…Reward me.”

Unable to deny them both any longer, Hermione grasped his hard shaft in her hand and gradually began to sink onto him. Malfoy bit his lip, brow furrowing as he watched himself disappear inside her. She couldn’t hold back her pleased moans as every inch of his cock caressed her walls, hitting all the right places.

When her hips met his, they both gave a sigh of contentment.

Perfect, Hermione thought. He was so fucking perfect.

Not lacking like a few of her past partners, but also not as uncomfortably large as Ron had been. It felt like he was made to fit inside her.

She rocked her hips experimentally, and Malfoy fell back on the bed with a groan. “Fuck…ride me, love,” he gasped, gazing up at her with what could only be described as adoration.

Despite their situation, Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Never had she felt so powerful on top of a man, so wanted. Malfoy, her childhood rival and once enemy, was looking at her like she was royalty.

Filing away such thoughts for later, Hermione began to bounce up and down on his cock. Malfoy met her with firm thrusts, creating a steady rhythm that drew dulcet sounds from both of them. His eyes darted from her face, to the place they were connected, to her breasts bouncing tantalizingly in front of his face.

Noticing this, Hermione cast him a sultry look as she took one in her hand, rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Malfoy growled and sat up quicker than she could register. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own, swiftly taking her pebbled nipple with his mouth.

Hermione cried out as he none-too-gently sucked at one of the sensitive peaks while he tweaked the other with his nimble fingers. “Gods, fuck! Yes! Harder…bite me…fuck me…harder! Malfoy, please!”

“Holy shit, Granger,” Malfoy rasped, snapping his hips faster. Hermione keened, his cock hitting that wonderful spot inside her again and again, effectively turning her brain to mush. She was vaguely aware of his teeth biting, nipping, sucking everywhere they could reach, and she couldn’t get enough.

She needed more, more, more of him.

Nails digging into his shoulders, Hermione shoved him back down onto the bed, hovering over him as she desperately slammed down onto his cock.

A positively delicious sound arose from Malfoy’s throat, encouraging her frantic efforts. His cock kissed her g-spot and her clit ground against his pelvis with each thrust, causing the sweet coil to tighten.

Hermione reveled in the control he willingly gave her, experimenting with various rolls of her hips. She adored making his eyes go out of focus, loved watching him bite down on his lip to keep his cries at bay.

The sight of him so unhinged made her borderline feral. She needed to watch him fall apart beneath her, needed to see what he looked like in the throes of ecstasy.

Without pausing her punishing pace, Hermione wove her fingers into his hair and yanked his head back. Then, she leaned down to place a firm, demanding kiss on his perfect lips. Malfoy struggled to return it through his heavy pants and grunts.

“Come for me, Malfoy,” Hermione rasped against his mouth. “I’m so close…want you to come…yes, yes, oh!” She cried out as she clamped down around him, wave after wave of mind-melting pleasure rolling through her.

“Granger – fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Malfoy gasped as he followed after her, one hand squeezing her hip while the other pulled at the sheets. His back arched and his body spasmed so hard he nearly bucked her off.

Hermione hissed as his seed flooded her, the sensation drawing out her release as it tapered off into small, pleasant pulses. She continued to gently rock against him, curious to see how long she could prolong his own climax. It wasn’t until he seized her hips in a vice-like grasp and begged her to stop that she finally let herself rest.

Hermione sat motionless atop him as they both caught their breath. Malfoy’s arm was thrown over his eyes, a thin sheen of sweat coating his chest. She couldn’t resist running her hands up and down his lovely torso, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss every inch of him. She didn’t think either of them could handle another round at the moment.

Malfoy slowly uncovered his face, gazing up at her with half-lidded eyes. Hermione squirmed as he stared at her for a long, long moment, wishing she could tell what he was thinking.

Then, his kiss-bruised lips quirked into a little half-smirk, half-smile. “You’re fucking beautiful, Granger.”

Despite the fact that she was currently sitting naked on top of him after a round of mind-blowing sex, his comment made her blush like a schoolgirl.

Malfoy gave a low, genuine laugh at her reaction and pulled her down to lie on him. Hermione buried her face into his shoulder to hide her embarrassment. His softening shaft slipped out of her, drawing a slight wince from both of them. Something warm and slick slid down her thighs, making her grow even redder.

Damn, she was going to have to wash these sheets several times over.

A sort of strained silence stretched between them while Malfoy slowly stroked her back. It felt oddly like a lover’s embrace, even though they were most certainly not…that.

Anxiousness started prickling in the back of Hermione’s mind, all the questions and worries she’d pushed aside returning with a vengeance.

At the same time however, a wave of exhaustion swept over her, the events of the evening along with the usual end-of-week fatigue knocking at her fading consciousness. A yawn she couldn’t quite suppress worked its way up, drawing his attention.

“You should sleep, Granger,” Malfoy said quietly.

Hermione pursed her lips, still not turning to face him. “So should you.”

Another awkward period of silence. “I can leave, if you'd prefer,” he offered tentatively.

She contemplated his offer, though not as long as she possibly should have. “It’s fine. You can stay…if you like.”

After a lengthy moment, Malfoy nodded against her. Hermione rolled off of him and slid beneath the sheets while he did the same. With their backs facing each other, they whispered mildly awkward goodnights.

It had been a long time since Hermione had shared a bed with anyone but her cat; but she couldn’t lie, the lingering warmth of another body next to her felt sort of nice.

The last thing she remembered before drifting off was a gentle, hesitant touch on her waist.

The next morning, the space next to Hermione was empty.

She stared at the spot blankly for a time as her sluggish morning brain attempted to collect its feelings on the matter.

In complete honesty, a part of her was relieved. There would be no uncomfortable morning after conversation to bear, no daunting ‘what now?’ question hanging between them. By leaving, he’d made his feelings on the matter clear.

However, she also couldn’t deny the stab of disappointment she felt at his absence.

With a sigh, Hermione climbed out of bed, hissing as her legs cramped when she tried to use them. Powering through the discomfort, she trudged to the bathroom.

The Gryffindor bit back a yelp as she caught her reflection in the  mirror. ‘Thoroughly shagged’ did not even come close to describing her appearance. Her unruly hair resembled a lion’s mane, several inches taller and wider than normal. Her entire upper body was a minefield of love bites, hell, she could even see teeth-marks around her areolas. Finger-shaped bruises decorated her hips, and dried semen coated the inside of her thighs.

Shite, Hermione thought as she chuckled awkwardly.

Her vague amusement at the ridiculousness of her appearance only lasted a moment, swiftly replaced by burning embarrassment. As she turned on the shower, the events of last night came rushing back, causing a deep flush to appear all the way down to her breasts.

She couldn’t believe how audacious and bold she’d acted! And hell, she hadn’t been very drunk at all, so she couldn’t even blame it on alcohol!

As Hermione scrubbed off the scent of sex and Malfoy, her overactive brain considered her rather out-of-character actions of the night before. When she really stopped to think about it, maybe it wasn’t so strange that Draco Malfoy was the one to draw such reactions from her. Even back in school, he’d always had a tendency of bringing out a side of her that rarely, if ever, saw the surface. To this day, he remained as the only person she’d ever punched. In that respect, Hermione determined that it wasn’t too surprising that such…chemistry…would translate to…other things.

The sex had been good. It had been really good. It very well might have been the best sex she’d ever had.

Who’d have thought Draco Malfoy, supposed ‘Sex god of Slytherin,’ would enjoy a woman taking control in the bedroom?

And that was likely where the bulk of the disappointment came from; the knowledge that she wouldn’t be having such fantastic sex again any time soon.

However, she also couldn’t deny the pure curiosity she’d harbored for Malfoy himself, either. Would they have become friends, had he stayed? Friends with benefits, perhaps? Or, dare she even consider it, was there the slightest chance that they could have been more?

Hermione shook her head as she climbed out of the shower. Contemplating ‘what ifs’ did no good now. All she could do was try and put it behind her and move on.

She towel-dried her hair as she exited the bathroom in a loose-fitting robe. As she pondered whether or not to disillusion the hickeys, something from the corner of her eye made her pause.

Malfoy’s shirt was still there.

Hermione swallowed, trying not to jump to conclusions. He probably apparated out…maybe he was in such a hurry to leave that he forgot it.

But then, she spotted his shoes laying by her bed in the same place she’d dropped them last night. Surely, he wouldn’t leave without those.

Then, a certain detail that had somehow escaped her notice stuck out to her like a sore thumb:

The balcony door was open.

Heart racing, Hermione inched towards the door until she could make out the form hidden behind it. Standing there on her little balcony, shirtless and smoking, was Draco Malfoy.

Despite her pounding heart, the first thought that occurred to her was that he did smoke after all.

“Um…good morning,” Hermione said tentatively.

“Morning, Granger,” Malfoy replied with a cigarette between his teeth.

She leaned against the doorframe and chewed her bottom lip, brain scrambling for a response. “Thank you for not doing that in the house,” she finally settled on.

Malfoy shrugged. “I’m aware it’s a disgusting habit. My mother still nags me about it. Figured you felt the same.”

Hermione shrugged as well. “You’re right, I don’t care for it, but it’s your life. Harry smokes too, actually. Has since after the war. He’s been trying to quit, but it’s not easy, even for him.”

Malfoy hummed contemplatively. “Even the great and powerful Potter can’t be perfect at everything,” he sneered, but there was no real malice in his tone.

They fell into silence, listening to the early morning hustle and bustle below. Hermione took the moment to study him. He’d not come out of their little tryst unmarked either; scratch marks marred his shoulders and the back of his neck. His hair was messier than she’d ever seen it, the platinum strands lying haphazardly atop his head, and there were several smears and stains on his pale skin from her lipstick. She wondered if he knew they were there, or if he simply didn’t care.

Hermione felt strangely proud of them; they were evidence that what occurred the night before wasn’t some fever dream, despite it somewhat feeling like one the more she remembered it.

Swallowing with trepidation, Hermione slowly opened here mouth to speak, but Malfoy’s sigh cut her off.

“Look Granger,” he began steadily, “I don’t want you stressing yourself out over me. If you want last night to be nothing more than a one-off, just say the word.”

Hermione blinked at his words. He was…leaving the decision up to her? When he could have just walked out and saved them both the trouble of putting a label on it? Did that mean he wanted to put a label on their relationship? Or was he just being courteous?

Licking her lips, she slowly responded. “What do you want it to be?”

Malfoy stiffened, though she still couldn’t see his face.

“I mean, I guess what I’m asking is…what did last night mean to you?” Hermione continued nervously.

He took a long drag of his cigarette in lieu of answering. As the seconds dragged on in silence, a sense of resignation built up in her chest.

“It’s alright Malfoy, you can be honest. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings, or anything. I wasn’t trying to trap you in a relationship, I just wanted to make sure there weren’t any misunderstandings between us. A-Anyway, if it didn’t mean anything to you, that’s fine. I’m not going to push you to change your mind.” Hermione rambled, desperate to dispel the strained air between them.

Malfoy gave a heavy sigh. “Granger, you really should let people speak before you jump to conclusions.” He finally turned to face her, his silver eyes studying her so intently that her throat went dry. “You want honesty, Granger? Then you should know that last night was the best night I’ve had in…years. And I don’t just mean the sex, bloody good as it was.”

Hermione’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

“And what I want, Granger,” Malfoy continued, eyes darkening, “is to snog you senseless right now.”

She bit her lip as her face warmed, nervously pulling at one of her curls. “O-Oh. Well, um…why didn’t you just say so?”

He shrugged, leaning against the balcony rails. “I didn’t want to scare you off. I know one spectacular night doesn’t erase our less-than favorable past.”

Hermione slowly nodded. “You do have a point.”

He snorted. “I was second behind you in marks for five years straight, Granger. I’m a lot smarter than I look.” She chuckled lightly at his quip.

Malfoy offered a hint of a smile when their eyes met. Twisting her fingers together, Hermione summoned her Gryffindor courage to say what she wanted.

“Do you…have any feelings for me, Malfoy?” His eyes tightened a bit at her question. As he took a nervous drag, she remained quiet this time and allowed him to think through his answer.

The faded Dark Mark on his left forearm caught her eye. She hadn't the slightest idea how she hadn't seen it last night. She noticed the Mark was marred by several thin, white lines, making her heart clench painfully. 

Exhaling the smoke slowly through his nose, Malfoy cautiously replied to her question. “It’s possible, I suppose. I mean, I did have a ridiculous little crush on you in fourth year.”

Hermione sputtered, her previous saddening realization overshadowed by his words. “W-What!? You – you liked me in fourth year!?”

He shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. “You were undoubtedly the best looking girl at the Yule Ball, I’m sure most of the blokes had crushes on you that year.”

Her mouth hung open at his casual declaration, unable to process what he’d just told her.

Malfoy finished off his cigarette and vanished the remains before fixing her with a heated glance. “What about you, Granger? Got any feelings for me rattling about in that bleeding heart of yours?”

Hermione’s mouth snapped shut. She looked away and seriously pondered the notion for a good while.

Did she like him? Well, she definitely respected him after the sensitive things he’d revealed to her last night, as well as how maturely he was handling this whole situation. She appreciated his willingness to communicate his thoughts and desires, both in bed and in conversation.

That had always been an issue she and Ron had shared.

While she was hesitant to jump into a new relationship, particularly after how badly her last one ended, she couldn’t deny that she was unbearably curious to explore this…whatever it was between them. What Hermione knew for certain was that the spark she shared with Malfoy was unlike anything she’d experienced before…and she couldn’t help but feel like she’d be missing out on something wonderful if she didn’t give it a chance.

“I think…I could have feelings for you if we give it enough time…Draco,” Hermione said quietly, his first name weighing heavily on her tongue.

Draco sucked in a breath when she spoke his name, then gave a wobbly smirk. “I think I can live with that…Hermione.”

A pleasant shiver rushed down her spine, her name falling sinfully yet sweetly from his lips. Draco’s pale hand cupped her jaw as he leaned in, kissing her experimentally, almost chastely. Hermione sighed into his mouth, and not even the lingering flavor of tobacco was enough to subtract from the exciting promise the kiss held.

Chapter Text

The minty, oily taste of the calming draught slid down Hermione’s throat and made her grimace. Nevertheless, the potion did its job, her racing heart slowing and shaking limbs stilling. The scenery rushing by outside the car window became more relaxing and less anxiety inducing.

Warm, familiar lips pressed into her curls and murmured, “Better, love?”

Smiling shakily up at her boyfriend, Hermione nodded and tucked herself further into his side. Draco rubbed a soothing hand up and down her arm as he whispered reassurances into her ear.

“Remember Hermione, I may be the one in charge, but you hold the power over our activities. Absolutely nothing will happen tonight that you don’t want. Just say the word, and we stop. I’ll take care of you.”

Hermione sighed, nodding against him. He always said something similar to her before they indulged in their more…intense proclivities, particularly when he played the dominant role. Letting go and giving over every ounce of control to someone else didn’t come naturally to someone like her, and Draco knew that, which is why he always prefaced their ‘playtimes’ with gentle support and encouragement. And he made it worth it, every single time.  

“Yes…I trust you completely, Draco.”

Arching a challenging brow, Draco tilted her chin up and fixed her with a stern gaze that made her stomach do flip-flops. “Have you forgotten our rules, my dear?”

Hermione swallowed, quickly remedying her mistake. “I’m sorry, Master.”

With a pleased smirk, Draco leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his beloved’s lips. “Are you ready to be a good, well-behaved little slave for me tonight?”

Squirming as heat gathered in her loins, Hermione nodded obediently. “Yes, Master.”

Kissing her one last time as the car pulled to a halt, Draco squeezed her hand comfortingly. The chauffeur opened the door for them, allowing the pair to step out and take in the impressive four-story, Victorian style building.

Le Trésor was the most famous high-end sex club in Wizarding France. If you were one of the fortunate few who could afford the club’s pricey membership fee and pass the rather extensive background checks, you would be free to walk up the sweeping stone pathway lined with rose bushes and the most ostentatious marble statues of well-endowed men and women and enter the lavish 19^th century mansion that had been refurbished into a kinky, pleasurable playground. Whether you wish to enter alone and sit back with a drink while you enjoy one of the many skilled, erotic demonstrations, meet someone to enjoy a casual evening with, or have fun with a partner in one of the club’s many private or public playrooms, Le Trésor served as an ideal getaway for many wealthy deviants.

Hermione’s chest gave that same elated little thump it always did when they visited this place. Draco placed a hand on her lower back and led her through the ivy-encrusted gates as the car pulled away, making room for the next. Though this was a Wizarding establishment, the magical community of France was a bit more in touch with muggle things than England’s; and as this club did mainly consist of the filthy rich, they of course loved to arrive in style and flaunt their wealth, though the club did contain Floos and an apparition point for the less flamboyant.

Hermione’s black pumps clacked against the marble flooring as they entered the foyer. The doorman took both their coats, leaving the Gryffindor in her sleeveless, wine red dress that hugged her curves and ended at mid-thigh, one of Draco’s favorites.

The woman at the front desk checked them in and handed them their usual red wristbands. “Any specific requests for the evening?” she asked.

Draco eyed her questioningly. Breathing deeply, Hermione nodded before she could chicken out. Her boyfriend gave a gratified smile. “We’d like to reserve room 2-C, if you please.”

The receptionist nodded, flipping through a notebook before looking up at them with a smile. “You’re in luck, that room just freed up. I’ll put your names down now. Feel free to make your way there at your leisure, though we do ask that you don’t take more than an hour to claim your reservation in consideration of our other guests.”

Draco gave a short nod as the receptionist handed him the room key. “Have a pleasant night!” she chirped.

“Oh, we will,” the Slytherin drawled lowly, sending pleasant tingles up Hermione’s spine.

Just before they entered the main area, Draco took his girlfriend by the elbow to get her attention. “Would you like to put on your collar now or later, angel?”

Hermione hesitated for only half a moment. “Now please, Master.” He smirked, though his eyes glittered with genuine delight at her response.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile a little herself. This is what she strove for when she submitted as his slave; pleasing him, watching his silver eyes dance with pride and darken with lust. She wanted to be the only one in the world to make him look that way.

Draco withdrew the shrunken case from his pocket and enlarged it before popping it open, revealing the beauty that sat inside. Hermione’s collar was a simple yet elegant dark forest green band that sat securely, but comfortably around her neck. On the front of the collar was a gold plaque engraved with the words, “Property of Draco Malfoy.”

As Draco lovingly fastened the piece around her neck, all the tension left Hermione’s muscles. With the familiar weight of her collar, the control she held onto with an iron fist at all times slipped away, allowing her to fall dutifully into her submissive role.

Were it with anyone else, Hermione would not feel comfortable nor safe putting herself in such a vulnerable position; but this was Draco, the one who taught her how wonderful and freeing it was to let go, who helped her uncover this unexpected side of herself.

Her love, her boyfriend, her master. He’d take care of her; he always did.

Draco smiled darkly, his dominant personality taking over completely at the sight of his girlfriend wearing his name around her neck. Tonight would be new and experimental for both of them, though much more so for her. He couldn’t wait to bring her to her knees, to hear her sweet voice beg and whimper for him. A slight whisper of worry tickled the back of his mind, but Draco pushed it aside. He had faith in both her and himself; his little Gryffindor was determined and strong, not to mention kinky as hell. He knew Hermione could handle it.

He brought her in for a rough, claiming kiss that made her knees weak before tucking her into his side. “Well, my lovely slave, shall we?”

Hermione snuggled into his embrace, gazing up at him with both want and adoration. “Yes, Master.”

The pair then entered the grand, dimly lit main hall. A long drink bar sat to the left of the entrance, and a slew of candle-lit tables were gathered around a small stage in the middle of the room. Currently occupying the stage was a pretty blonde woman sat upon a sybian. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a weighted chain was clamped on both her nipples.

The audience watched with various levels of rapture as the blonde cried out, shifting off the sybian ever so slightly as the vibrations became too much to handle. The redhaired woman in a black leather suit standing next to her yanked on the chain as punishment, forcing the blonde back into position. “Did I say you could move, you filthy girl? Be a good little slut and stay right where you are. Give our audience the show they came here for!” the redhead demanded sharply. The blonde whimpered but obeyed her Domme’s orders.

Hermione felt her knickers grow damp at the same time a bit of nervousness pricked her chest. As if sensing this, Draco started gently leading her away. “Let’s go take a peek at some of the other exhibitions, hm? I know you particularly enjoyed the hot wax room last time.” She nodded, grateful that he was giving her time to mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

They made their way unhurriedly through the many hallways and corridors, occasionally stopping in at one of the public playrooms to observe another demonstration.

They watched a man with cat ears and a tail get caned by a woman in a purple tuxedo in one of the dungeon-themed rooms whilst Hermione sipped on a sweet cocktail to further calm her nerves. In one of the posh bedrooms, a man wearing a knight’s costume held a woman dressed in medieval princess regalia over his knee and spanked her. Then, out in the lush gardens, a man laid on the side of a fountain as he ate the pussy of one woman while another rode his cock. It was all both arousing and fascinating to Hermione, who still hadn’t quiet gotten used to the sheer amount of unique and, sometimes, downright bizarre kinks and fetishes some people indulged in.

In complete honesty, one of her favorite parts about coming to this club was just observing the people around them, and not even in a sexual way. Some walked around in strange, eye-catching costumes and lingerie, some in normal clothing, and others preferred to go about in nothing at all.

Draco kept her close to him the whole time as they wandered, sending level glares to anyone shifty-looking who tried to approach them. Thankfully, most were warded off by the red wristbands present on their arms, so he didn’t have to do it too often.

Given that both of them were pretty well-known in the Wizarding world, it wasn’t uncommon to receive stares and double-takes, but here, people were a bit more respectful about it; probably because there were so many other far more interesting things to stare at.

People wearing green wristbands quickly lost interest in them, turning their attention back to searching for a playmate for the night. Individuals wearing red wristbands, such as themselves, signaled to others that they were there with a partner, or weren’t open to being approached, and also left them alone.

As the hour to claim their reservation drew short, they began to weave their way back through the throng of people. Hermione squeezed Draco’s hand as they boarded the lift along with another couple. Draco held the door open as a man in a designer suit led his naked partner inside by a leash. The leashed man crawled into the elevator on all fours, leading Hermione and Draco to step to the side to make room for him. The man in the suit nodded his thanks as the doors slid shut, his partner kneeling dutifully beside him.

They rode the lift in silence, which did nothing for the incessant pounding of Hermione’s heart. The leashed man looked up at her from the corner of his eye. Noticing her collar, he offered her an understanding smile, which she shakily returned.

The lift dinged and the couple exited without them, the leashed man crawling after his master. That left Hermione and Draco alone, and she finally allowed herself to collapse against him just a little.

The Slytherin held her against him, stroking her arm slowly. “Alright, my sweet?” he inquired. She nodded hesitantly, trying to convince her racing heart to slow the fuck down.

The lift dropped them off at their desired floor, where they stepped into the quiet corridor. This particular floor contained rooms that had to be reserved in order to use them, every door locked with a powerful spell that could only be broken with one of the club’s keys.

Hermione stared at the long Persian rug as they approached their room, focusing on the intricate patterns and not the anxiety pounding at her subconscious. It took her a moment to realize they’d stopped, and when she looked up with a blink, Draco was staring at her.

“Hermione,” he began softly, breaking character for a moment. “Are you completely certain you want to do this? Because if you’re not, I need you to tell me right now.”

A small part of her wanted to jump at the offered out and beg him to take her to the comforts of one of the private suits. He’d understand; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. But she promptly squashed the urge. She had been the one to ask for this, had argued with him for far too long to convince him she was ready. What kind of cowardly twit would she be to back out now?

Hermione shook her head resolutely. “No…no, I’m okay. I want this.”

Draco tilted her head up by her chin and studied her silently for a moment. She stared back at him unwaveringly. Finding what he was looking for, he smiled and whispered, “That’s my girl.”

She beamed at the praise, heat pooling in her belly. After pressing a swift kiss to her lips, Draco tapped the key against the doorknob, which was followed by a soft click. The dark room lit up the moment they stepped through the door, and Hermione gave a tiny gasp.

The room was far nicer than she was expecting, with polished dark wood floors and walls. A cozy fireplace cast a warm glow to the cushy looking sofa and loveseat, both piled with decorative pillows. A cute little coffee table sat atop a faux fur rug, and a king-sized bed laden with quilts occupied the opposite side of the room. There was even a window charmed with a beautiful sunset view amongst a picturesque forest, really pulling off the log cabin aesthetic.

Hermione couldn’t help but squeal a little. “Oh, this is lovely, Draco!”

Her boyfriend chuckled, deciding to forgive her improper name usage. He needed her to loosen up if they were both to have a good time tonight. “I figured you’d like this one.”

Hermione cocked her head curiously. “It’s not at all what I expected, considering what its main purpose is…” she trailed off, eyes drifting to the righthand wall, which was almost completely engulfed by a large glass panel. At the moment, it looked to be nothing more than a very large mirror, but she knew that was a mere illusion.

This happened to be one of the several rooms in Le Trésor that was specifically designed for voyeurism. Hermione had wondered what the point of such rooms were when Draco told her about them, when the entire club was already a haven for exhibitionists and voyeurs alike. Draco had explained it was the concept that drew people; apparently, a few choice individuals liked the idea of watching secretly, pretending that the participants of whatever salacious activity they were viewing were completely unaware of their presence. Hermione still didn’t really get it, but she accepted that some people merely had strange kinks and moved past it.

That window was the cause of all the anxiety that had plagued her all evening. Though Hermione and Draco had been exploring each other’s darker, more intense fantasies for a while now, their playtimes always took place behind the safety of closed doors. Although Hermione admired those that were bold and confident enough to display themselves and their desires out in the open for anyone to see, she had never been all that comfortable with trying it herself.

It wasn’t until about a year after they began making regular trips to this club that she started toying with the idea, frequently contemplating and fantasizing what it would be like to be stripped bare and fucked in front of a crowd of strangers.

She knew Draco had no issue with it, even admitting to have participated in one or two exhibitions himself in the past. When Hermione had asked him what it was like, her boyfriend had gone silent before explaining.

"It was…a little odd. It’s especially jarring your first time, looking up in the middle of sex and meeting some stranger’s eye, just watching you. But when I thought about it, I realized that it was more or less like I was a performer and they were just my audience. It was easier to sink into when I thought of it like that, and then when I got used to it, it started to feel a little exciting. Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely not something I would do all the time…but let me tell you, hardly anything beats that kind of adrenaline rush.”

Eventually, Hermione’s curiosity won her over, and she elected to try it and see what all the fuss was about. Draco, unsure how she’d handle a crowded demonstration for her first go, offered her this compromise. Hermione figured he picked this cozy room because he knew its warm, inviting atmosphere would help put her at ease, which she was grateful for.

Draco drew her attention back to him, gazing at her seriously for a moment. “What’s your safe word, my love?”

Hermione gathered her expression. “It’s Heathcliff.”

“And when should you use it?”

“If I’m in any significant pain or discomfort, if I get too overwhelmed, or if I’m not okay with something you do or say,” she answered primly, reciting everything he’d told her when they first began experimenting with BDSM and roleplay.

Draco smiled softly. “Good girl.” He kissed her then, a sweet and promising kiss that warmed Hermione from her head to her toes.

When he pulled back, his face had darkened into a familiar domineering smirk.

Hermione’s breath hitched. Her master stood before her now.

Draco gently enclosed a hand around her throat, running it up and down as though he were considering choking her. Her pulse raced under his touch, making his smirk deepen.

“Ah, there’s my good little slave,” Draco sneered haughtily, moving his hand up to clutch her jaw. Hermione averted her eyes demurely, falling perfectly into her role alongside him.

Draco chuckled lowly. “Aww, what’s the matter, sweetheart? Feeling a little shy today? No matter. You’ll be over that soon enough.” He leaned in until their noses were inches apart. “Unless of course, you want to be punished like last time? I haven’t used my favorite whip in a while.”

Hermione stifled a moan.

Draco yanked her head back by her curls, making her hiss. “Use your words, or I’ll give that useless mouth of yours something to occupy it.”

She whimpered at the threat, shaking her head quickly. “N-No, no Master, please don’t punish me. I’ll be good, I promise!”

Draco hummed and released her hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, love. Aren’t you grateful you have such a kind, benevolent master?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I’m so grateful. Thank you, Master.”

He pat her cheek condescendingly. “Glad to see you’re finally learning some manners, my dirty girl.”

With that, he strode over to the sofa and plopped himself down. Hermione remained where she was, knowing better than to move without his permission. Draco picked up the toy and costume catalogue off the coffee table and began to peruse it. When he looked up a few moments later, he cocked a brow.

“Well? Don’t just stand there like a fool. Make yourself useful and strip. Give me something to look at.”

Nodding submissively, Hermione reached behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress, allowing it to pool on the floor. Next she unhooked her bra, sliding it slowly down her arms. Her nipples pebbled in the cool air, making her shiver. Finally, she turned around to pull her lacy knickers down her bum, purposefully bending over as she glided them down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her heels and thigh-high black tights.

When Hermione turned back around, Draco was watching her with dark, hooded eyes.

“Hmm…well, I suppose you’ll do,” he said with feigned disinterest, turning his attention back to the catalogue. She instinctively bristled, but quickly reeled herself back, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of her.

Draco smirked, then tapped something on the catalogue. A moment later, three lovely golden chains appeared in front of her. Hermione swallowed.

“Put those on, and be quick about it,” he demanded, exchanging the catalogue for the drink menu.

Murmuring a quick “Yes, Master,” the Gryffindor dropped to her knees. The thickest and longest chain she used to bind her ankles, while the two smaller ones went around her wrists and were hooked to her collar. Each golden chain was long enough to provide a decent range of motion, and the inside of the cuffs were lined with plush velvet, making them rather comfortable.

Once bound, Hermione sat back on her heels, gaze fixed to the floor as she enjoyed the weight of the chains. The sensation of being owned, of having every bit of control stripped away from her, was so freeing. When she was here with him, she didn’t have to be war-heroine-creatures’-rights-activist-best-friend-of-Harry-Potter, Hermione Granger. She didn’t have to worry about pleasing anyone or the constant stresses of meeting the expectations placed upon her by the society she’d helped save.

Here, she could indulge and leave it all behind for an evening, focusing on nothing but her master’s pleasure.

Hermione continued to kneel in silence, waiting patiently for Draco’s orders. She allowed herself to mumble a quiet cushioning charm to the floor beneath her, not knowing how long he intended to keep her there.

Finally, after an unknown amount of minutes passed, Draco knocked twice upon the coffee table, which caused the illusion on the glass panel to fall away.

In its place was a window that showed a dim room with several comfortable seats placed on an incline, quite reminiscent of a muggle movie theater. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat, but she refused to allow her anxiety to show. There was no one in the room on the other side of the window now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before other curious club-goers filtered in.

Draco then tapped on the menu, causing a tumbler of firewhiskey and a crystal glass to appear. He gestured at her impatiently. “Well, get over here. My drink isn’t going to pour itself.”

Nodding obediently, Hermione rose on all fours and crawled to her master’s side. Settling on her knees on the floor next to him, she reached for the tumbler and filled his glass halfway, the customary amount for firewhiskey. Hardly sparing her a glance, Draco picked up a magazine from the coffee table and idly flipped through it as he sipped at his drink.

Roughly twenty minutes passed with only the sounds of the crackling fire, the crisp turning of pages, and the sloshing of liquid as Hermione refilled Draco’s glass. She couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at her boyfriend, admiring his lovely features in the firelight. She felt her thighs growing damp as she imagined what he had planned for them tonight. He always liked to make her wait a bit when they played this particular game, getting her as hot and bothered as possible before making his move.

So lost in her thoughts was she, that when Draco suddenly yanked at one of the chains attached to her collar, she lost her hold on the tumbler, causing some of it to splash onto her chest. Clicking his tongue, he took the tumbler from her and peered at it, as though inspecting for any damage. Placing it back on the table, he then turned to her with a sneer. “You think it’s funny to waste my drink, do you?”

Hermione hissed as he grabbed her nipple and tugged on it sharply enough to make her jerk forward a bit. “I-I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, Master,” she whimpered, eyes stinging from the pain of his grip.

Draco rolled his eyes and released her. She reached up to rub her aching breast, but barely had she touched her flesh when a pale hand was gripping her by the hair. Hermione winced as Draco yanked her over by her curls until she was settled between his parted thighs. Without a word, he unzipped his trousers, took out his hardened prick, and promptly shoved it between her lips.

Unprepared, Hermione instinctively gagged as he mercilessly forced his cock to the back of her throat. She coughed around his length, tears escaping her eyes. Scoffing, Draco withdrew himself to fist the hair at the top of her head, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “When your master gives you a chance to rectify your mistakes, you do it, understand?” he growled.

Hermione nodded quickly and rasped out, “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

“Good. Now shut up and take cock like a good little whore should.” Draco’s order was swiftly followed by Hermione opening her mouth wide, tongue out and eager for her master’s cock.

He chuckled lowly. “There you go, that’s a good slut,” he jeered, slapping his dick on her tongue a few times, then once across her face for good measure. Without further preamble, Draco grasped the back of his little slave’s head and fed her his cock.

Hermione was ready this time, relaxing her jaw as much as she could as he tugged her head forward. Draco wasted no time violating her little mouth, thrusting his hips and moving her head at a gruesome pace as he brutally fucked her face. She gagged lightly, her throat protesting the rough treatment, but her lower belly coiled with heat. She loved being used by him, found a twisted sort of enjoyment at being treated as nothing more than a toy for his pleasure.

Draco pushed his cock as far into her mouth as possible and held it there, making his girlfriend choke and whimper at the intrusion.

The Slytherin threw his head back with a groan when she swallowed around him. “Fuck, that’s right…suck that cock…like the cumslut you are!” he rasped, feeling his balls tighten with imminent release. Hermione moaned, allowing him drive desperately into her mouth. Her neck was starting to ache and the roots of her hair stung, but she was determined to hold out and satisfy her master.

“Shit, I’m coming. Better be a good whore and swallow every – last – drop!” Draco choked on the last word as his climax washed over him, pumping his seed down her throat.

Hermione gasped for breath when he withdrew, drawing a smirk from her lover. “Aww, did I tire you out? Figures. You sucked my cock rather well, at least. Maybe you’re worth something after all,” he taunted while smoothing her hair out of her face with a tenderness that contrasted his cruel words.

“Tha-thank you, Master,” she rasped, her voice scratchy from the harsh treatment it had received.

“You’re most welcome, darling,” Draco replied derisively, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

He then tucked himself away and stood, yanking on one of her chains while he was at it. “Get up. I’m not done with you yet.” Hermione stumbled to her feet, yelping when he suddenly picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Draco crossed the room in a few large strides and practically threw her down on the bed. She hadn’t even gathered her bearings before he was spreading her pussy lips apart. Hermione’s legs flinched shut purely on reflex, which Draco was quick to rectify with a harsh smack to her bum.

She gave a high-pitched whine and spread her legs as far as the chains would allow. Draco let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Fuck…I knew you were a good-for-nothing slut, but who’d have thought you’d get this wet just from choking on my cock?” He ran his fingers up her slit and lifted them up to show her. His digits were glistening with her arousal, the sticky juices stretching out into thin strings when he pulled his fingers apart. “What a good little vixen I have, so hot and wet for her master.”

Hermione bit her lip, back arching off the bed when his thumb found her swollen clit, drawing light, teasing circles into the sensitive nub.

She moaned, turning her head to the side – and promptly froze.

Several pairs of unfamiliar eyes were watching her from behind the window. In her rapture, she’d completely forgotten it was there.

How long had they been there? How much had they seen?

Anxiety spiked in her chest, cheeks flushing with mortification. Perhaps this had been a poor idea after all…

“Eyes on me.”

Draco’s sharp command made her gaze dart back to him. His silver eyes softened at her turbulent expression. “Don’t look at them love,” he murmured, breaking character for a brief moment. “Look at me.”

Hermione nodded imperceptibly, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her master. He tried to coax her back into the game, applying additional pressure to her clit as he spewed more degrading filth at her. Though she enjoyed his efforts, her reactions were noticeably muted.

She pursed her lips to prevent her usual moans and whines, her fingers gripped the blankets as if afraid of letting go, and she was trembling with what Draco wasn’t quite sure was desire. When he tried to slip a finger inside her, he only made it to the first knuckle; she was too tense, and trying to push in any further would undoubtedly hurt her.

Draco frowned. He’d been afraid of this. Although he truly didn’t blame her for this reaction – he’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t frozen up a bit himself his first time – they couldn’t continue this way. Time to try a different approach.

Throwing up a mocking eyebrow, Draco fixed his slave with a sneer. “What’s the matter? Scared to put out in front of an audience?”

Hermione blinked rapidly, clearly stunned by the question.

“And here I thought you would have been thrilled. Filthy little girl like you, getting to show off what a good, cock hungry tramp you are for me? I thought you’d be all over that.”

Her mouth hung open dumbly, not knowing what to say in response. She hadn’t thought of it that way…

Draco smirked. “Unless of course, you really are just too scared.”

His words hit their target, and Hermione’s eyes burned with new determination. His chest lightened with pride and relief. His little Gryffindor never could back down from a challenge.

Her walls relaxed around him, allowing Draco to slide his finger the rest of the way in. Hermione let out a long, low moan that made his cock harden anew. “Ho, there we go. That’s it, darling. Show everyone how much you love your master’s finger inside you.”

Draco watched as his lover’s whole body relaxed, one hand reaching up to grasp the headboard while the other massaged her breast. He admired the sight of the chains lying against her golden skin.

She was breathtaking. His beautiful, precious slave.

Hermione swore when he slid a second finger inside her. “Master!” she gasped, rocking her hips against his touch. Draco growled, possessiveness curling inside him when she moaned for him.

“You know,” he began conversationally, “I’ve always wanted to show you off. I do so love showing off my pretty things.” Hermione shuddered when he curled his fingers against the spongy flesh inside her, pleasure-addled brain struggling to keep up with his words. “After all, Merlin knows not every bloke is lucky enough to have such a good, slutty, obedient little slave at his every beck and call,” Draco continued, pumping his fingers in and out of her almost lazily.

“I mean, just look at you. I barely even have to touch you, and you fall to your knees for me. Anything I want, you do without complaint, just as any good slave should. And do you know why that is, love?”

Hermione panted through her reply. “B-Because I’m yours, M-Master.”

“That’s right, my filthy girl. You live for my pleasure, and no one else’s.” Draco’s body language remained casual, as though he was bored, but his eyes were dark and scorching as he stared down at her.

“Yes!” Hermione gasped, the fiery coil in her belly tightening further and further.

“You exist solely for me. Mine to use and do with what I please. Your only purpose is to please me,” Draco said lowly, breath growing heavier.

“Y-Yes! Yes, Master! I live only for you!” Hermione cried out, loving his selfish, domineering words.

“Indeed,” Draco drawled, crooking his fingers so he could slam them against her g-spot again and again. She shrieked, tossing her head back against the pillows. “And you know what, my good girl?” He took her by the chin and turned her gaze back to window, leaning down so his lips touched her ear. “Now they know it too.”

Hermione’s entire body trembled. The heated, approving foreign gazes upon her, while still a bit jarring, no longer caused her embarrassment. Rather, the pride in Draco’s voice filled her with glee, knowing how pleased she’d made him by letting them watch. Everyone behind the window had seen how good she was for him, knew how devoted she was to him, and vice versa. Every person that walked out of that room would walk away with the knowledge that she, Hermione Granger, belonged wholly to Draco Malfoy.

The thought was like an erupting volcano, causing crippling heat to flood her entire body. “Fuck!” Hermione screeched, her sensitivity shooting up. “Master! Master, I-I’m gonna-”

Draco straightened up, looking cool as a cucumber and entirely too pleased with himself. “Yes, yes, feel free to come whenever you like. But you’d better not forget to thank your master.”

The coil snapped, blinding pleasure rushing through her. “AAH! Oh! Oh god! Master, master, thank you, thank you, thank you-” Hermione tossed her head back and forth deliriously, hardly aware of the words tearing out of her throat.

Draco didn’t give her a moment to recover. The moment she came down from her high, he pulled her up by both chains and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss.

Hermione gasped in surprise. He didn’t usually kiss her when they played this particular game, but she didn’t complain as their tongues wrestled. Draco’s hand tangled in her sweaty hair while she tugged him closer by his belt loops.

She broke the kiss with a yelp when he suddenly spanked her cunt. Nimble fingers snaked up her belly and teased her nipples, twisting the hard peaks until delicious pain shot down her spine.

“Master…” Hermione whimpered, arching into his touch.

“Still not satisfied, eh?” Draco chuckled.

She panted. “Never…satisfied. Need you…all the time.”

He hummed thoughtfully, continuing to toy with her nipples. She squirmed at his ministrations, certain her burning arousal was leaving a damp spot on the blankets.

When she thought she could take no more teasing, Draco leaned in and captured her lips in a surprisingly tender kiss. But when he pulled back, his eyes were anything but. He looked like he intended to eat her alive.

“In that case,” he began darkly, “perhaps you would like to show our audience how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

Somehow, Hermione grew even hotter, her inner walls spasming at the thought of him buried inside her.

Draco smacked her pussy again, and she moaned at the sting. “Answer me, slag. Do you want to be put on display or not?”

Judging by her rather intense reactions, he was beginning to wonder if she was more of an exhibitionist than either of them thought, and wanted to test her. But given this was still new territory for her, he needed her verbal consent before taking things any further.

Hermione’s eyes flitted briefly to the window, heart racing in her chest. Then, she nodded sharply. “Yes, Master. Please show me off…”

It was all Draco needed.

Grinning wolfishly, he hauled her to her feet, chains rattling with the movement. His lips met hers in a hard, claiming kiss. She sighed happily, the taste of him making her head swim. Draco withdrew too soon and patted her cheek just hard enough to sting. “Stand facing the window and put your hands against the glass.”

Hermione’s breath caught at the command. Nevertheless, she obeyed, nervousness and arousal warring within her. The glass was cold against her palms as she leaned against it, keeping her eyes cast down. She could still feel the stares on her, making her skin prickle. Her chest expanded slowly as she took several stabilizing breaths.

Draco came up behind her, his scent calming her almost immediately.

Everything’s okay. Master is here. He’ll take care of you. Let go. The steady voice of her inner submissive made Hermione relax. She trusted Draco. He knew what he was doing. And more than anything, she wanted to please him.

A warm, wet tongue against her ear drew her from her thoughts, and she shivered. “Okay?” he whispered.

A tiny, grateful smile tugged at her lips. “Yes,” she murmured in reply.

Draco kissed the top of her head and ran a loving finger across her collar. “Whose name are you wearing, filthy girl?” he growled.

“Mmm…yours, Master,” Hermione answered, pressing her arse back against his growing bulge.

Draco grabbed a handful of her offered bum, sinking his nails into the round flesh until she hissed.

“Who do you belong to?”

Both hands descended harshly on her arse, making her gasp. “I belong to you, Master!”

“Fucking right, you do. Everything, from your tight little cunt to your filthy fucking mouth is all mine. Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to show off! Isn’t that right, love?”

Hermione’s reply was cut off as Draco withdrew his prick and rested it between her arse cheeks. She panted, shifting her hips in hopes that it would brush against her dripping entrance, but another hard spank stilled her. “Better answer me, my naughty girl,” Draco sang, rubbing his dick against her bum. “Otherwise I’ll just get myself off and leave you here in agony.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the threat, knowing he was not joking. “Oh, yes Master, I’m all yours. Please…do whatever you want to me. I need you!”

He smirked triumphantly at her pleading tone. “Filthy little whore. You’re addicted to my cock, aren’t you?”

Hermione whimpered, nodding erratically.

Draco slapped her cunt with his prick, making her flinch in surprise. “Say it. Say you’re addicted.”

“Fuck, I’m addicted to your cock, Master!”

Satisfied, he prodded her entrance with the head of his dick. She moaned as he eased the tip inside her hungry pussy…then stopped.

Hermione whined desperately, making him chuckle. “If you want it that badly, you’ll have to work for it,” said Draco, running a possessive hand up her back.

Flexing her fingers against the glass, the Gryffindor eased her hips backwards, praying he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t, and she nearly sobbed in euphoria as he filled her.

“Don’t just stand there now,” Draco said huskily, “fuck yourself. Show our audience how much you love it.”

Hermione didn’t need to be told twice.

Spreading her legs as far as the chains would allow, she began to rock back and forth, fucking herself slowly on her master’s cock. Her hungry cunt squeezed him greedily, allowing her to feel every vein caressing her walls.

Hermione’s soft, sweet pants evolved into a heated cry when Draco delivered a hard smack to her arse, nearly making her lose her footing.

“You call that fucking, you ungrateful slut? Ride me like you mean it!” the Slytherin barked. Hermione complied with a whine, pistoning backwards until her bum slapped against his hips.

Draco continued to stand stock-still, watching his lovely slave impale herself on his cock again and again with barely controlled desire. It was taking Herculean self-control to not thrust into her, and he honestly wasn’t certain how much longer he’d last. Her delectable arse bounced each time she drove it against his hips, the sight making his mouth water as he bit down on his lip to restrain himself.

However, Draco found himself unable to resist gifting her with a few more spankings, breath hitching as her glorious cunt clamped around him tighter with each strike. “You like it when I spank you, do you? Then have some more!” Draco panted, adding yet another hand-shaped mark to her abused backside.

“Oh gods!” Hermione cried out in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you do like that, don’t you? Just feel that pussy clench!” he hissed, reveling in her needy moan.

“Master, please, more…” she gasped, struggling to fuck herself as hard as she wanted at the challenging angle.

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you, darling,” Draco replied, a malicious smirk pulling at his mouth.

The Gryffindor’s legs shook as she bit back the string of obscenities she was tempted to snarl at him. “Please…” she whimpered, licking her dry lips, “…please fuck me!”

The vicious Slytherin sighed as though she was asking him a huge favor. “Well, I suppose you’ve been fairly well-behaved.”

Hermione had barely registered his reply when she was suddenly shoved right against the glass. Her gasp of surprise swiftly turned into a choked scream as Draco’s disinterested façade fell away, and he plowed into her mercilessly. Her chains clattered against the glass as he practically lifted her off her feet, leaving Hermione scrambling for something to hold onto as he fucked her within an inch of her life.

His cock struck her g-spot once, twice, and a third time, and then she was crying out as her second orgasm of the night rushed through her. Draco grunted as her tight cunt spasmed around him, squeezing his eyes shut as he suppressed his own release.

Hermione slumped against him once she came down from her high, his steady hold and the window the only things keeping her from collapsing. He nipped at a sensitive spot by her ear, drawing a weak moan from his girlfriend. “Put those hands back on the glass. I’m not done with you yet,” he growled lowly.

Though her limbs trembled with fatigue, Hermione obeyed, bracing herself once again against the window. “Good girl,” Draco murmured, kissing her cheek rewardingly. Her pussy fluttered around him.

This time, he pulled out slowly, letting her feel every aching inch of him. He continued until the tip of his cock was just barely still inside her – then slammed back in.

“OH!” Hermione cried. Draco repeated the action, withdrawing himself painfully slowly before snapping his hips forward again. Hermione’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, his cock pummeling her battered walls deliciously. Her nipples pressed into the window, her breath fogging the glass.

When her vision came back into focus, she was once again met with several unfamiliar gazes. This time, rather than freeze with humiliation, Hermione stared back at them curiously. Many of the strangers were casting her appreciative glances, clearly enjoying the scene; some more so than others. A few were blatantly pleasuring themselves, or receiving pleasure from a willing partner. Hermione thought she even saw a couple fucking up in the darkest corner of the viewing room.

As her eyes roved from one foreign heated gaze to the next, her heart beat harder and faster. All these people, these complete strangers, were getting off to them. To her. After tonight, whenever the name Hermione Granger came up, there would be a group of people that would not think of the perfect Golden Girl that could do no wrong, but of a writhing, moaning, chained up mess getting railed by her boyfriend.

A rush of heat so intense it felt like a lick of fire against her skin shot straight through her, and suddenly, Hermione was coming with an intensity that she’d never experienced. She felt more than heard herself scream, her world whiting out from the sheer ecstasy.

Draco gasped in part surprise and part pleasure as her pussy milked his cock for all it was worth, and this time, he allowed her to take him down with her. His hips stuttered as he fucked her through her orgasm, then a long groan tore from his throat as his cock flooded her insides.

With his mind reeling from his release, Draco barely heard Hermione whimper, “H-Heathcliff…Heathcliff…”

Blinking as he rapidly crashed back down to earth, the Slytherin quickly pulled out his softening prick. He gathered his unresponsive girlfriend in his arms, lifting her bridal style as he carried her to the sofa. Cradling her close, he knocked on the coffee table and their audience vanished behind the illusion once more.

Draco carefully arranged Hermione in his lap, pressing a hand to her hot cheek. “Hermione? Angel, can you hear me?” he whispered, brushing away the hairs that had stuck to her sweaty face. Slowly, her brown eyes fluttered open, and his breath left him in a rush of relief.

“Hey, there she is. My little lioness,” Draco crooned, kissing her forehead tenderly. Hermione gave a tired smile, nuzzling into his neck. He gently tilted her head from side to side and ran a scrutinous gaze down her body.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he then leveled her with a serious look. “How are you feeling, love? What do you need?”

She drew in a steadying breath. “Just need…a minute…” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. Nodding, Draco set to work removing the chains from her wrists and ankles. He moved to take her collar off too, but she placed a gentle hand atop his and said, “No, don’t…I want to leave it on.”

Smiling softly at his love, Draco leaned in to press the tenderest of kisses to her bruised lips. “As you wish.”

Hermione grinned drunkenly, snuggling up to him. He chuckled a bit as he wrapped her firmly in his arms. She was always so cuddly after their playtimes, and he absolutely loved it. He adored seeing her like this, completely relaxed, satisfied, and carefree. She deserved to live as stress-free of a life as possible, and he was determined to give her that to the best of his ability.

“That was…I can’t even…wow. I wish I’d convinced myself to try out exhibitionism sooner!” Hermione declared after several minutes of comfortable silence.

Draco laughed airily. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to have such an intense reaction. I think you might be more of an exhibitionist than I am!”

She smiled shyly. “Well, maybe…but, um, I think I want to wait a bit before we try it again. As amazing as it was, it was also kind of overwhelming…I thought I was going to pass out from that last orgasm!”

Draco nodded. “Then we’ll wait. Perhaps next time, we should only have the window unveiled for part of it, to give you more time to get used to the stares." He frowned thoughtfully. "We probably should have done it that way tonight, too…I’m sorry, Hermione. I’ll do better next time.”

Hermione shook her head at his apology. “It’s alright, Draco. We’re both still discovering our wants and limits, it’s only natural we’ll have a hiccup every now and then. I’m really okay, I just got a bit too exhausted at the end. But I truly did love it!”

Draco smiled appreciatively. “I’m glad. I always want to make you feel good. And you did exceptionally well tonight, love. I’m very proud.” Hermione grinned, albeit a bit shyly, which made his chest rumble with laughter. No matter how degraded, twisted, and dirty their games got, he hoped he never lost the ability to make her blush.

“Now,” the Slytherin summoned a blanket from the bed and wrapped her with it. Hermione blinked as he then Accio’d her dress and undergarments, folded them up, and placed them on top of her stomach.

“I’m taking you to one of the Aftercare Nooks. We should make sure everything’s as it should be, and you need to recover,” Draco said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Hermione looked up at him, mouth quirking into a smirk as he carried her to the door.

“Yes, Master.”

Draco peered down at her, cocking a scolding brow and repressing a smile.

“Cheeky little slave.”

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger was having a shitty day.

As much as she loved her job in the Ministries’ Archives, she most certainly did not love constantly being reminded of the general incompetence of her coworkers who couldn’t seem to manage the simplest of tasks without help.

Seriously, everything was alphabetized, and yet they couldn’t locate the record of all the Maplewood suppliers in England under ‘M?’

If she had to lecture one more disrespectful chit about the purpose and importance of organization, she was going to blow a gasket.

The color-coded tabs were there for a reason, dammit!

Additionally, though Hermione was undoubtedly excited for her upcoming wedding, she really, really hated almost everything to do with planning for it. She loved Narcissa Malfoy, truly she did, but she didn’t know nor care about the difference between rose champagne and geranium pink, and no, she also didn’t give two shits about whether or not they matched the centerpieces. Hermione simply didn’t see the point in fussing about every last gratuitous detail; she did that enough at her job to give her whole team a headache, and she certainly didn’t need her special day being spoiled just because the buttercream on the cake was vanilla bean instead of amaretto.

All Hermione wanted was to meet her beloved fiancé at the end of the aisle and join together with him. Even if she had to do it barefoot in the middle of Diagon Alley on a rainy day, it would be worth it to finally start her forever with him.

Speaking of her fiancé…

“Draco?” Hermione called as she knocked on the door to his office. A harried goblin hunkered past her with a sneer, but she paid him no mind. She technically wasn’t supposed to be in here – only goblins and licensed curse breakers were allowed in the back offices at Gringotts – but no one was going to attempt to tell Hermione Granger what she could and couldn’t do.

When a few moments passed with no response from Draco, Hermione frowned and knocked again. She knew he was in there, she’d long memorized his ordinary workday schedule that he stuck to like clockwork, and he’d never not answered her before, particularly on their weekly date night. “Draco? If you don’t answer me, I’m coming in, I don’t care what it is you’re working on. Our reservations are in one hour!”

A series of muffled crashes from behind the door kicked her into action.

“Draco! Are you alri – AUGH! What the-!?”

The moment she swung the door open, Hermione was nearly knocked backwards by the small form that barreled into her. She caught it purely on reflex, holding the small furry bundle to her chest as she looked down.

“Wha – what in the world!?”

Looking up at her with the most unpleasant expression she’d ever seen on an animal was a white cat with startlingly familiar silver eyes. Hermione’s gaze darted rapidly to the dark urn toppled over on the desk, to the grey three-pieced suit not unlike the ones her fiancé often wore laying crumpled on the floor.

Slowly, Hermione’s owlish stare roved back to the scowling feline in her arms.

“Oh, shite.”

The next few hours were some of the worst Gringotts had ever seen.

The Golden Girl stormed through the bank, her hair crackling with angry magic, and the cat tucked protectively under her arm. Bystanders looked on with acute confusion at the odd sight, but were quick to scuttle away when Hermione turned her molten glare on them. She marched right into Head Curse Breaker Bennet’s office, where she proceeded to unleash all her rage upon the unsuspecting man.

The following hour consisted of a one-sided shouting match against Bennet, who repeatedly tried to placate the irate war heroine.

“Miss Granger please, you must understand, there are always risks in this line of work-”

“Risks that you are responsible to help rectify!”

“And we will, but there are policies we must adhere to-”

“Sod your policies! My fiancé is a cat!”

Eventually, they managed to launch an investigation, which was quickly resolved upon discovering the urn left in his office which, to no one’s surprise, had a rather unusual curse on it.

It took three curse breakers and two and a half painful hours just to identify and pick apart the damn curse before they were comfortable enough to attempt breaking it, making Hermione wonder what Draco had been thinking to tackle such an obviously dangerous object alone in his office. But given that he couldn’t currently speak, she held her tongue to avoid agitating her fiancé any further.

Feline Draco observed his fellow curse breakers with obvious contempt, his tail swishing behind him with aggravation, a sight that Hermione tried very hard not to find amusing. Even as a cat, he still wore the infamous Malfoy sneer perfectly.

Hermione’s fingers tapped longingly on the uncomfortable bench as she eyed Draco’s soft-looking coat of snow white fur. She’d not had a cat since Crookshanks passed a few years ago, and she greatly missed having the comforting presence of a friendly feline around. Draco wasn’t much of a pet person, though she had a sneaky little plan to slowly but surely wear him down into letting her get one. How ironic that he’d been turned into the very animal she’d been longing for.

Leisurely, Hermione stretched out her eager fingers towards her fiancé, knowing she may only have one chance.

Meanwhile, Draco was watching his coworkers fumble with the accursed urn, hating everything about this situation more and more with each passing second. He was furious, mainly with the old bat that had brought the sodding urn in who claimed it had nothing more than a stubborn confounding spell on it, but he was also furious with himself for making such a juvenile mistake in the first place.

While Draco certainly wasn’t the only curse breaker that occasionally cut corners and didn’t follow some of the more gratuitous procedure steps, he still should have known better than to take the damn thing to his office. The urn had been sitting in their “in progress” section for weeks, constantly pushed aside in favor of more pressing projects. After receiving one too many extensive complaints from the crabby woman, Draco became fed up and decided to get the bloody thing out of the way as quickly as possible just so he wouldn’t have to hear the old biddy’s screeching voice ever again.

Alas, his aggravation made him careless, and the moment he attempted to cast a basic breaker spell on the urn, he suddenly found himself looking up at his much higher desk from a very unhuman body.

Being a cat felt anything but natural. His eyesight was somehow sharper and duller at the same time, he could smell things he wished he couldn’t identify, and maneuvering took far longer to get a hang of than he cared to admit. The humiliation of being discovered and rescued by his fiancée was acute.

…Although, he had to admit, watching her shout at his normally immovable boss on his behalf was pretty hot.

Draco felt his tail flick in frustration when one of the trainees nearly dropped the urn mid-levitation. Multiple times, he opened his mouth to scold his completely incompetent coworkers, only to remember that he couldn’t currently speak. A deep rumble that sounded disturbingly like a growl rose in Draco’s chest in response to his growing fury. Just as he was seriously contemplating prowling his way over to claw off his infuriating coworker’s faces, the most wonderful sensation stole all his attention.

Nails and fingertips scratching, rubbing, scraping all the right places.

It felt better than any massage he’d ever received, like all his problems and worries were being swept away by these talented fingers. His unfamiliar feline instincts swallowed his human brain for the briefest of moments, causing him to melt into the touch. Draco’s whole body buzzed with contentment as he leaned into the large hand.

Fuuuuck it felt amazing!

What had he been so bothered about before? He suddenly couldn’t remember. All he could focus on was the blessed fingers caressing his ears, his chin, his back…

He knew this hand, this delightful hand that was so intent on pleasing him. He’d held and kissed it many times, and now it smelled just like him, just as it should-

Draco jerked, his senses returning with the force of a freight train. He sprung upright, his infernal tail shooting up indignantly. He glared venomously at Hermione, furious that she dared to do something as humiliating as stroke him like a common house pet right in front of his coworkers.

Not that they were paying them any attention, but still! It was the principle of it! And to top it all off, the infuriating bint was laughing at him!

Hermione was trying valiantly to contain her amusement, but only mildly succeeding. And Draco glaring at her as though she’d deeply betrayed him didn’t help whatsoever.

“I-I’m sorry, love,” she snickered, voice warbling with barely suppressed laughter. “I didn’t know you’d get so…into it.”

If possible, her fiancé’s scowl deepened, an expression that looked terribly funny on his feline face. Thankfully, one of the curse breakers came over before Draco could scratch his intended’s eyes out.

It took yet another hour and half to lift the curse, an endeavor that was not made easier by Draco hissing and swiping at anyone that got too close to him. Hermione tried her best to subdue him while watching the breakers peel the curse away layer by layer, flashes of blue, green, and red illuminating the room.

At last, with a whoosh of air and a strange ‘pop,’ a very human, very naked Draco Malfoy stood in place of the glowering cat, just as he’d always looked – aside from the fluffy white tail brushing his calves and fuzzy ears sticking out of his head.

Hermione sighed in despair as her fiancé swore violently. It was going to be a long night.

"What the fuck do you mean there’s nothing you can do!? You’re supposed to be bloody professionals, so act like it!” Draco’s irate shout shook the walls of the hospital, making several in the vicinity cringe. Hermione stood in the corner of the examination room rubbing her temples.

When the curse breakers had been unable to make Draco’s feline ears and tail vanish, they took off to St. Mungo’s on Bennet’s recommendation in hopes of finding answers. The results were not as they anticipated.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the healer replied evenly, “you must understand. Your case is not as simple as applying a basic counter curse. The curse you are under is a very complicated, very old transformation curse that has imbedded itself quite deeply within your magical core. These excess body parts are not just decorative, they are functional parts of you for the time being. If we were to attempt to forcefully remove them, it could potentially handicap you.”

Draco growled deep in his chest, causing the healer to arch a pointed brow. “The fact that you’re currently growling at me only proves my point. Though the curse over you was mostly broken, a part of it still lingers, and it’s what’s causing these animal-like tendencies.”

Scowling, Draco’s tail flicked erratically. Hermione doubted he was even aware that he was doing it, cementing the healer’s point even more.

“However, we do have some good news," the healer continued, “we’ve run some tests with the help of your fellow curse breakers, and it seems the counter spells that were cast on you are still working, albeit extremely slowly. So, we think that with a bit of time, the curse will lift completely.”

Draco’s ears swiveled at the news. Hermione pointedly focused on the healer’s words and not on how terribly cute she found that.

“How long will that take?” Draco demanded.

“At this point, we have no way of knowing for certain. The curse cast on you consists of many layers, so it could take a while for the counterspells to penetrate each one. It mostly depends on the strength of your magic. Right now, the curse and the counters are at war within you, both attempting to take over your body. It’s similar to the way muggle antibiotics fight off a virus. An illness doesn’t disappear within a day of treatment but rather steadily improves over time. It seems this curse is operating in the same manner.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, barely listening as the healer rattled off facts that, as a curse breaker, he basically already knew. Truthfully, he’d suspected an outcome like this since he turned back, but he’d hoped beyond measure that the healers of St. Mungo’s would be able to see an angle he hadn’t.

“Is there anything we can do to speed up the process?”

The healer frowned lightly. “Nothing that would be advisable, no. So many counterspells have already been placed on you, if we were to attempt any more, we’d risk overtaxing your magical core. For now, we think it’s best that we allow the curse to finish running its course. It’s the safest option we have.”

Draco’s nostrils flared. “So I’m stuck like this!?”

The healer sighed. “For the time being, it would seem you are. You should really consider yourself lucky it was just a transformation curse and not something more sinister.”

“Lucky? Lucky!?” the Slytherin sputtered, “look at me! I have fucking cat ears on my head! And I’m getting married in less than two months!” Hermione placed a calming hand on Draco’s arm, only to flinch when he harshly shrugged her off.

The Gryffindor blinked, trying not to feel too stung by the rejection.

The healer’s blank expression didn’t budge. “I am truly sorry Mr. Malfoy, but there is nothing more we can do for the time being. I recommend you disillusion the ears and tail when you go out if it bothers you that much. Also, we’d like to see you back here for regular progress evaluations at least once per week until the curse lifts to ensure nothing else goes awry.”

They left the hospital in low spirits, and Hermione had a feeling her shitty day had just turned into a shitty week. Unfortunately, she was right.

Throughout the next week and a half, Draco remained in a foul mood, no matter what she did to try and cheer him up.

His tail constantly swished back and forth with agitation, he’d notice and try to physically hold the damn thing still with his hand, only for the lack of movement to eventually aggravate him even further. Every comment she’d make about it not looking that bad was met with a poisonous glare. He’d sneer deeply every time he caught of glance of himself in the mirror, and hated any and all reminders of his current predicament.

Truthfully, Hermione thought he was overreacting. Yes, the situation was far from ideal, but it could have been a lot worse. She refrained from voicing these thoughts, knowing it would only incite his anger, and she was already doing that enough without even trying.

Draco snapped at her over every little thing, leading to more pointless, childish arguments than they’d had since their Hogwarts days. Hermione knew, somewhere in her subconscious, that she should do better at keeping a cool head instead of lashing back at him, but she was stressed and exhausted. Her work was long and frustrating as ever, and she’d had to put off wedding preparations for the time being, which did not go over well with Narcissa when she told her.

To make matters worse, Draco insisted that nobody else know of his condition and forbid her from telling anyone, which made it that much harder to flounder for excuses when telling their friends and family why he couldn’t join them for their regular get-togethers.

The weekly hospital visits were a nightmare, usually ending with Hermione apologizing profusely to the poor healers Draco shouted at and insulted just for doing their jobs.

Before she knew it, their normally cozy home had turned frosty and tense. Hermione hadn’t felt the need to tiptoe around someone so much since Pansy’s first pregnancy had turned her into a chaotic mess of rage and hormones.

Their evenings of casual dinners and cuddling on the couch watching programs or reading books disappeared. In fact, whenever Hermione came home from work, Draco would tense before retreating to whatever room she wasn’t in. When she tried to ask him what was wrong, he always responded with a grumbled, “Nothing.”

While their nights used to conclude with them tumbling into bed together to make a mess of the sheets, they’d barely managed a few cheek kisses since his transformation. The only time Draco initiated intimacy with her was in his sleep, ironically enough. Hermione hadn’t the foggiest clue why, but a Draco with cat tendencies was thrice as snuggly as Draco without them. Though he fell asleep before her with his back turned every night the past week, Hermione always woke up with him clinging to her like a koala, purring deep in his chest.

Draco was, in every intent and purpose, acting like a feral cat she’d picked up off the street and brought home. She had no idea what it was about the curse that was making him behave like this, but what she did know was that she was beyond done with it.

Though she’d tried her damnedest to remain calm and supportive, Hermione’s sympathy and patience had all but run dry. She was sick of his appalling attitude and hurt and angry at his treatment of her. She’d decided to not push it until after the curse finally broke, but her resolve shattered violently at the beginning of the second week.

It was Sunday, and Hermione had escaped to the Burrow for the afternoon, desperate to get away from her fiancé for a few hours. While she was there, Ron noticed her barely hidden distress, having matured quite a bit in the years since the war. Hermione had not divulged the source of her torment, but her old friend kindly sat with her outside, rubbing soothing circles into her back while she laid her head on his shoulder, offering whatever reassurance he could. His gentle actions made Hermione realize how lonely she’d been since her fiancé’s ailment and allowed herself a moment to just sit and be comforted.

She returned home feeling a bit better, finally feeling some warmth seep back into her bones after spending time with her surrogate family. She found Draco sitting in the living room reading a book. His ears swiveled toward her when she walked in, but he didn’t look up to greet her.

“Hello love,” Hermione sighed as she removed her jacket.

“Have a good afternoon then, did you?” Draco replied somewhat sardonically.

“As a matter of fact I did, thank you for asking,” she muttered, unable to keep bitterness from seeping into her tone.

Padding over to the sofa, she plopped down next to him, intending to try and really talk to him instead of just exchanging passive-aggressive comments. However, the moment she sat down, Draco’s nostrils flared and he whipped his gaze towards her. His ears flattened against his head as something resembling a hiss tore from his throat. “Why the fuck do you smell like Weasley!?” he growled.

Hermione reeled back in astonishment, eyes narrowing. “Gee, I don’t know Draco, maybe it’s because I just came from visiting their house!”

Draco bared his teeth as he stood up. “Don’t play dumb with me! I can smell Weaselbee on you! What the hell were you doing with him, Hermione!?”

Hermione slowly stood up, expression darkening. “Just what exactly are you implying, Draco Malfoy?”

He scowled down at her, silver eyes flashing. “What’s there to imply? His disgusting scent is all over you! What else am I supposed to fucking think!?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, stomach coiling in on itself.

“Didn’t want to be seen with your freak of a fiancé, did you? Went running back to your ex because you couldn’t handle the thought of being married to a fucking-”

SMACK

Draco’s head snapped to the side.

Hermione curled her stinging hand by her hip, her entire body shaking with the torrent of negative emotions storming through it.

“How dare you!” she snarled. “How dare you for even one fucking moment accuse me of something like that! I’ve been nothing but loyal to you! I’ve lied for you, stressed myself to insanity over you, lived for you these past weeks! You, you – you have no right!”

Though she was several centimeters shorter than him, Draco visibly cowed in the face of her anger.

Hermione was steaming like an enraged bull, fingers twitching erratically at her sides. “If you must know, Ron was comforting me because he saw how bloody upset I was over you! He hugged me and let me rest on his shoulder because I was so fucking exhausted from dealing with you! You have been so awful to me! You get angry over every little thing, act like my mere presence disgusts you, and you barely even touch me! I’ve been trying so hard to help you, but all you do is brush me off and get annoyed with me! And every time I try to talk to you, you ignore me, or say it’s nothing!”

Draco’s already fair skin had been drained of the little color it had, leaving him as white as a sheet. “H-Hermione-”

“No! Shut up! I’m not done!” she shouted.

He visibly flinched, tail wrapping around one of his legs.

Hermione buried her hands in her hair, pulling at her curls as the inside of her skull ached. “You just – you’re like a completely different person, and I don’t know why or what to do about it! I’ve been so worried about you, wondering if the curse is somehow affecting you in a way we didn’t know about, but the healers say everything is progressing as it should! And – and now-”

Unable to hold it back any longer, Hermione burst into frustrated tears.

Draco withered, ears and tail dropping listlessly.

“And now you’ve gone and accused me of cheating on you! I-I just – I thought you trusted me! I’m supposed to be your wife in a couple of months, and all you’ve done is treat me like an inconvenience! Are you even interested in marrying me anymore!?” she sobbed, hardly making out her fiancé’s horrified expression through her blurry vision.

Draco drew in a sharp breath. “N-No, I – it’s not like that, I didn’t mean-”

Hermione held up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t. Not – not now. I can’t hear this right now. Just-” She paused, drawing in a shaky breath. “I…I’m going to go.”

His ears sprang up in alarm. “No! No, no, Hermione, please don’t leave, let me-”

“Not forever, you moron, just for a few hours. I…I can’t be here right now. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret,” Hermione explained, wiping her eyes.

Draco’s sharper incisors were buried in his lip, a bead of blood forming in the wound. “W-Where will you go?”

Hermione shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. Maybe to Harry’s. Or I might wander around Diagon Alley for a while. I just need to get away. I can’t be around you right now.”

Draco lowered his gaze as she snatched up her jacket. Before leaving the room, Hermione briefly turned back around. “When I get back, I want to talk. Really talk, Draco. Because I will not sit back and be treated this way anymore. I’m your fiancée, and I deserve better than that.”

With that, Hermione spun on her heel and marched out of the house, leaving her despondent fiancé standing alone in their living room.

The sun had long set by the time the Gryffindor trudged her way home. Her entire body, mind, and soul felt empty and wrought with exhaustion. Her anger had all fizzled out, and now she just felt numb.

Hermione stood at the front door of her and Draco’s home, not knowing what to expect on the other side. It was hard to believe just a week and a half ago they’d been blissfully happy and eagerly anticipating their upcoming nuptials.

Sighing wearily, Hermione unlocked the door with a wave of her wand and stepped inside. The first thing she noticed was the heady, mouthwatering scent in the air. Her stomach immediately voiced its approval, reminding her that it was well past supper time.

Approaching the kitchen, she found Draco sitting at their little breakfast table, which was laden with two servings of Caprese salad and chicken carbonara under a stasis spell. Her favorites.

Draco briefly looked up when she entered, only to purse his lips and drop his gaze a moment later, ears laying meekly against his head. “I, um…I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten already.”

Hermione silently stood on the threshold of the kitchen for a long moment. “No, I haven’t,” was her soft reply. Without meeting his gaze, she joined him at the table, recognizing the peace offering and electing to accept. It didn’t really solve anything, but it was a step in the right direction.

They ate in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable, but also not as strained as it had been for the past week and a half. Draco kept his eyes down and picked at his food. He’d not had much of an appetite since the incident…discounting the night they had salmon, but she’d wisely not pointed that out.

Hermione wished she could tell what he was thinking. Thankfully, he didn’t have his Occlumency shields up – he didn’t use them around her much anymore, but if he was feeling vulnerable, sometimes he’d reach for them instinctively – but even without them, his face was mostly blank.

He felt bad, she could tell that much; his ears drooped with guilt and his tail kept tightening and relaxing around the chair leg as though he was nervous. Hermione had noticed that Draco seemed far less in control of these non-human parts he’d acquired, ironically making him easier to read than normal.

Regardless, guilt wasn’t enough to rectify the situation.

“I’m still upset, you know,” Hermione said quietly as she cut her pasta.

Her fiancé was far from adept at discussing feelings – more bullshit that had been shoved down his throat growing up by his father – so she was used to making the first move when they had to have these conversations.

Draco swallowed. “I know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

She nodded in reply, returning to her meal. His response was as expected; a short acknowledgment, implying that he heard her and intended to talk, but not just yet. Hermione knew from experience that pushing Draco to talk before he was ready was a surefire way to get him to close himself off, so she would be patient.

Her Draco was a man of his word.

After supper, they washed the dishes side by side, still not exchanging a word. Then, Hermione went to take her evening shower, wanting to give him all the time he needed to prepare himself for their inevitable conversation. When she returned to their bedroom, she found Draco sitting cross-legged on his side of the bed, tail curled anxiously around his leg. Hermione dressed in silence and pretended she couldn’t feel his gaze on her.

Finally, she joined him in their bed, lounging against her pile of pillows with ankles crossed, and hands folded atop her stomach. This time, she stayed quiet. If he really wanted to mend things, he had to be the one to initiate this time.

An unknown amount of time passed before Draco licked his lips and slowly opened his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione nodded once. “Okay.”

He drew in a shaky breath, ears twitching atop his head. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry for taking my anger and frustrations out on you. And I’m sorry I accused you of something I know you didn’t do.”

Hermione listened to his voice break a little more with each apology and let out a long sigh when he finished. “Okay. Thank you for apologizing. May I ask some questions?”

Draco nodded timidly.

The Gryffindor licked her lips before speaking. “If you already knew I didn’t cheat on you, why did you accuse me of doing it?”

Draco flinched, tail thumping once on the bed. For once, he didn’t look down to glare at it. “I…it’s…hard to explain,” he muttered.

“Try,” Hermione urged.

He squirmed, reaching up to tug at an ear. She’d noticed him doing this several times since the incident, sometimes like he was trying to relieve tension and other times like he was trying to pull the damn thing off.

“Since…this happened,” Draco began, gesturing to himself, “it’s been harder to – to control myself.” Hermione arched a curious brow.

“Control yourself how?” He started rubbing the pointed ear between his fingers, the other ear flicking erratically as if in protest. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he attempted to collect his thoughts.

“Emotionally…mentally. It’s like…everything I feel is amplified. And I just – stupid shit that normally wouldn’t bother me suddenly seems like the worst thing in the world. And thoughts that I would usually be able to ignore just stick around and drive me fucking nuts.”

Hermione softened at his genuinely distressed expression. His explanation was steadily beginning to make the pieces fall into place.

“What kind of thoughts?” she asked gently.

Draco huffed, scraping a hand through his hair. “Bad ones, mostly. Like how bloody furious I am with myself for being so stupid and getting myself cursed. Or how lonely it is here by myself all day when you leave for work. Or how I’m afraid that you’ll-”

Draco slammed his mouth shut so hard that his teeth clacked. His pupils dilated and his eyes glazed over, letting her know that he’d just thrown up his Occlumency shields.

Hermione reached out and took his hand firmly in hers. “It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his hand with her thumb. “You’re safe. This is a safe place. You can come out. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Draco’s chest heaved with trembling breaths.

After several minutes of quiet reassurances, he slowly relaxed. “What were you afraid I was going to do, Draco?” Hermione pressed gently. He gripped her hand silently, his tail reaching out to wrap tentatively around her ankle. She almost flinched in surprise at the feel of it. This was the first time he’d willingly touched her with it.

“I-I was afraid…th-that you…that you wouldn’t…want me like this,” Draco shakily admitted.

“Oh, Draco…” Hermione murmured sadly.

He clutched her hand harder and shook his head. “It was thoughts like that…that wouldn’t leave me alone. Even though I knew, logically, that they weren’t true, it’s like I physically couldn’t get rid of them.”

Her heart ached at his words, hating the thought of him stuck in their house alone all day (he’d been given time off from work due to the incident) torturing himself with a cycle of self-destructive thoughts. No wonder he’d been in such a foul mood all the time.

“And you know, that’s not even the worst of it,” Draco continued with a bitter laugh. “What I really can’t fucking stand is these infernal ‘animal tendencies’ the healer talked about. Merlin, they’re just – they’re so fucking awful, Hermione!” He suddenly shot off the bed and began to pace. “Do you know the other day, I heard a dog bark outside, and I jumped up on the table!? On all fours? God, I felt like an idiot! I can barely make myself eat because nothing tastes right, I can hardly shower because the water feels horrid on these damned ears, and I smell everything!”

He paused, panting as his tail swished wildly behind him. “That – that’s been the hardest, I think. Being able to – to smell things. It does…unpleasant things to me.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed worriedly. “Like when you said I smelled like Ron?”

Draco nodded miserably, slumping back down on the bed. “Every day when you came home from work, you smelled like other people. Sometimes other men. Just faintly, but still…I couldn’t stand it. It made me want to-” he swallowed harshly, “-do things to you.”

Hermione’s chest fluttered. “Wha-what kind of things?” she couldn’t help but ask.

The Slytherin slowly looked at her, eyes dark. “Bite you. Fuck you. Fill you and paint you with my cum until you were drenched with my scent.”

Her breath hitched slightly, his low, domineering tone rolling through her. “O-Oh,” she stammered, feeling her cheeks warm.

Draco’s nostrils flared. “Fuck-” he choked, slapping a hand over his nose. “Salazar, Hermione, can you not? I’m trying to keep a level head here!”

At first, she was confused by his reaction but then realized with mounting embarrassment that he could probably smell her arousal.

“W-Well I can’t exactly control it!” she squeaked, pressing her thighs together.

Draco moaned quietly. “J-Just…fuck, give me a minute…”

“Should I…leave for a moment?” Hermione inquired softly. He shook his head, tail once again wrapping around her leg in protest.

“Why, um…why didn’t you? Do any of those things, I mean? I wouldn’t have protested…” she asked hesitantly after he’d calmed.

Draco sighed, shaking his head. “Because I wanted to do them for completely selfish reasons. I wasn’t interested in pleasuring you, I just wanted to mark you and remind you that you’re…mine.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I felt like a disgusting bloody caveman, thinking like that. That’s why I couldn’t be around you for a while every time you came home. I was afraid I might hurt you…I didn’t trust myself to stay in control.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “Then why did you react so differently to smelling Ron on me?”

Draco was silent for a moment. “I think – god, this is going to sound terrible – I think because I knew you’d dated him in the past, my – my instincts saw him as a threat. And I’d already been fretting about you leaving me because of this, so when I smelled him on you, I just…lashed out.”

Draco heaved another sigh, resting his head against the headboard. “I really am sorry for what I said, Hermione. I knew it wasn’t true, even as I was saying it, I didn’t really believe it. And I know it sounds like I’m trying to make excuses for myself, but I’m not, I promise. I’m just…I want to…”

“You want to help me understand your perspective and why you said what you did,” Hermione supplied when he trailed off.

He nodded, eyes sliding shut tiredly. “It’s like…I have this other personality inside me that takes over when I least expect it. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” His forehead wrinkled painfully, as though he was going to cry. “I hate it…I hate it so fucking much. Having no control, not knowing how much longer I’ll be stuck like this…I feel so fucking helpless! Just like in fourth year when Moody turned me into a goddamn ferret and threw me against the walls, or the whole fucking time I was trapped in my own house with V-V-”

Hermione swiftly gathered him in her arms. This far into their relationship, she recognized a potential breakdown when she saw one.

Draco slumped against her, head dropping onto her shoulder as his shoulders began to shake. She stroked his back as he sobbed quietly, providing whatever small degree of comfort she could. Her entire being ached for him, hating that he was still tormented by the memories of his final years at school so many years later.

Draco’s cries quieted shortly, but he didn’t move away from her. Hermione kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much you’ve been struggling, love.”

He shook his head. “S’not your fault. I was being an arse.”

“Still,” she sighed, “I should have been more patient, but instead I let my anger get the best of me. Or maybe I should have tried harder to get you to talk to me…”

Draco raised his head, placing a gentle kiss on his fiancée’s cheek. “It doesn’t matter now. Things happened, and now we can only work to move past them.”

Hermione cupped his face, wiping away a few sticky tears. In doing so, she was reminded of reddening his cheek with her palm. 

Chest flooding with shame, she rested her forehead against his. "I never should have slapped you earlier. I'm sorry, Draco." 

His lips twitched, grey eyes darting down as he sighed. "It's fine, Hermione-"

"No, it's not," Hermione said firmly. "No matter how angry I am, hitting you, my fiance is never okay. Imagine if this had been the other way around, and you had hit me."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. "I would never-!"

"I know," she gently interrupted. "But darling, I feel just as terrible about it, as should anyone who hits someone they claim to love. I shouldn't get a free pass just because I'm a woman. So please, let me apologize. I promise I'll never hit you in anger ever again. I'm so...so sorry, Draco."

Draco swallowed, eyes misting over again. "I - thank you, Hermione."

The Gryffindor nodded, kissing him on the forehead. "You know I would never leave you over something like this, right? Cat ears or not, I still fully intend to marry you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily!”

Draco’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Even after how utterly pathetic I’ve been tonight?”

“You are not pathetic, Draco Malfoy. Seeking out help and telling someone when you’re hurting isn’t pathetic. It’s healthy. If we’re going to make this marriage last, we need to communicate and talk about it when we hurt each other,” Hermione said firmly.

Draco’s brow crinkled, and for a moment, she thought he might start crying again. Instead, he closed his eyes, drawing in a quivering breath. “Thank you, Hermione. You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I forgive you.” His ears twitched adorably at her words as he cast her a relieved smile. Unable to resist a moment longer, Hermione reached up and scratched behind one of his fluffy white ears.

Draco’s expression melted in bliss as he pressed his head further into her touch. “Mmm…that’s so nice, love…” he sighed.

Smiling, Hermione ran her fingers up and down each ear, loving the softness against her skin. She allowed him to direct her hand, paying close attention to the spots he seemed to like most. The bed squeaked as Draco sprang up on all fours so he could bury his face into her neck. She giggled as he nuzzled her throat, his fingers kneading the bare skin of her thighs. Then, a low rumble drew her attention, and she realized he was purring.

Hermione’s wonder quickly turned into desire as Draco started lapping at her neck. She gave a soft moan, and he froze and drew away, pale skin flushed with mortification.

“S-Sorry. The…instincts took over for a moment there.”

Hermione shook her head, trying to tug him back towards her. “I didn’t mind. I-I actually kind of liked it…”

Draco looked at her incredulously. “Really?”

She bit her lip and nodded.

He fidgeted in her hold. “It’s embarrassing…” he admitted quietly.

“I’m the only one here, love,” Hermione whispered, “it’s okay. You can let go. I…I want you to let go.”

Something resembling a whimper tore from Draco’s throat, and the next thing she knew, she was pinned beneath him. She sighed happily at the feeling of his hard, warm body pressing into her.

God, she’d missed this. Missed being under him, atop him, filled by him.

Draco was rubbing his head and face against her collarbone, pausing to nip and lick at her skin once and a while. Hermione raked her nails through his hair and continued to fondle his ears to her liking. He moaned gently at her touch, tail wrapping around one of her thighs as he pulled her legs wider apart and settled between them.

“Oh…” she keened when Draco started rutting against her, grinding his clothed arousal into her aching core.

“Fuck,” he choked. Hermione gasped when he met her gaze, pupils blown so wide that she could barely see his silver irises. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he panted, hips stuttering as though he wanted to stop, but couldn’t.

“You won’t,” she assured, cupping his face. “You won’t, Draco. Please…I want you so much.”

She could practically see the strings of his restraint snap. With a groan, Draco shoved up the oversized shirt she had on, exposing her bare breasts to the air. Hermione sat up briefly so he could tug it off her, sighing when he attached his lips to her neck.

“Mm, yes…”

She bit her lip as his warm tongue caressed her skin, stroking from her jaw to the hollow of her throat, then glided across her clavicle.

His tongue felt…a little different, somehow. Rougher, almost. She liked it.

Hermione’s breath stuttered as he continued exploring her with his mouth, licking her with painful meticulousness. He trailed down the valley of her breasts, tongue flicking her sensitive nipple and blowing on it to make it harden. He kissed his way to her opposite breast and repeated the treatment, making his fiancée writhe beneath him.

Draco swirled his tongue around the hardened peak, groaning as the sweet scent of her arousal grew stronger. His cock twitched and pulsed, frantic to be buried inside her. But first, he wanted to finish drenching her in his scent.

Hermione licked her lips as his head traveled lower, shivering when his teeth just barely brushed her skin. Yet, he refrained from biting her. Instead he continued to subject her to his torturous tongue, taking his sweet time in tasting every last inch of her. He slowly licked his way across her ribs and down her soft stomach, which was quivering with anticipation.

By the time he reached her thighs, Hermione was aching with need. Her legs trembled as he licked long stripes against her inner thighs, almost as though he were grooming her.

If she weren’t so excruciatingly aroused, she may have found it funny.

“God, Draco! Please!” she finally whimpered when another lengthy minute passed and he still hadn’t touched her.

Draco paused, blinking up at her as if he was surprised. Then, a sinful smirk stretched across his lips. The submissiveness in her tone made him purr with delight.

Kissing her thigh teasingly, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down. His knees nearly buckled as her scent washed over him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “God, darling…you smell…fuck, I can’t even describe it!”

Draco eagerly ducked his head, mouth watering and cock throbbing. He pressed a kiss to her swollen clit, making her shudder. Then, his eager tongue darted out once more, giving her a slow, broad lick. They both moaned at the sensation, him at her taste. This was far from the first time he’d eaten her out, but she’d never tasted so exquisite before. Needing more, Draco pushed his tongue inside her as deep as he could while rubbing her clit with his thumb.

Hermione keened, arching into his mouth. “Draco, yes!”

Her lusty calls of his name made him purr louder, the vibrations against her soaked cunt sending her higher. Draco groaned as he tongue-fucked her needy hole. She was getting close, he could tell by her tensing thighs and erratic breaths.

An idea occurred to him then, one that made him snatch her by the hips and lift her up so the lower half of her body was completely off the bed. Hermione let out an adorable little, “eep!” when he did it, grasping at the sheets for purchase. Draco wound his arms around her waist to hold her up, her arse pressing into his chest and heels brushing his shoulder blades.

“D-Draco, what are you – ohhh!” Hermione whined when he encapsulated her cunt with his mouth and began sucking her clit like it was a sugar quill.

Draco gave a pleased hummed. This angle gave him much better access to all her sensitive little spots that he knew so well, and took full advantage of as she fell over the edge with a raspy moan. He greedily licked up her release, wanting to claim every last drop for himself.

When she squirmed away, too sensitive for him to continue, he lowered her back down onto the bed.

Draco’s tail curled happily as he tugged off his shirt. His scent was all over her now, just as it should be – but it wasn’t enough.

Hermione watched, somewhat dazed as her fiancé vanished his sleep pants and underwear, leaving him bare before her hungry eyes. His cock was wonderfully swollen against his stomach, a bead of precum sliding down the shaft and dripping onto his balls. She wanted to sit up and lick it off, but Draco covered her body with his once again and kissed her feverishly.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her legs over his hips, trying to coerce him to push into her. His cock slid against her wet folds, and they both sighed at the contact.

Draco broke the kiss suddenly, staring down at her heatedly. “Turn over,” he growled.

Whimpering, she eagerly obeyed, flipping onto her stomach. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her belly to make her more comfortable, then settled between her thighs.

Hermione expected him to immediately shove himself inside her, so she giggled in mild surprise when he leaned down to nuzzle her neck first. Draco allowed his instincts to guide him as he rubbed his face against her head, pausing to swipe his tongue across her ear.

“M’ gonna fuck you,” he rasped.

“Yes, Draco,” Hermione replied breathlessly.

“If I – get too rough, tell me, yeah?”

With how amazing she smelled, his instincts were screaming at him take her, fuck her, claim her, utterly ruin her for anyone but him. Though he could tell by her scent that she was more than ready for him, he didn’t trust himself not to lose control and give her more than she was prepared to take.

Hermione smiled at him over her shoulder, making his tail flick happily. “I trust you, love. Make me yours again.”

Her words pulled a satisfied growl from his chest. He didn’t know how she knew just what to say when he was stuck in this form, but his witch was undeniably brilliant.

Draco wound his tail around her waist as he sunk into her, moaning breathlessly as her tight, warm walls hugged his cock.

“Yes,” Hermione hissed, fisting the sheets as he started riding her. He gave a few shallow thrusts to gather his bearings, ears folding back with his efforts not to pound into her with abandon.

Her hips rut back against him desperately. “Draco, please…harder. I won’t break,” she begged.

Draco’s rhythm stuttered, sharp incisors peeking out between his lips. “Careful what you wish for, love.”

She whimpered when he slowly bottomed out inside her, his cock kissing her G-spot. “Please, please-” Hermione’s pleads were cut off with a wail when he abruptly pulled out, and slammed back in.

“Yes, yes, yes-” Hermione cried out with pleasure as she lurched forward with each hard cant of his hips.

“Fuck, darling!” Draco gasped.

He leaned down so his chest was flush against her back, not pausing his desperate thrusts. His pale hand fisted her chestnut curls, moving the hair aside so he could bite down on the supple curve of her neck. Hermione keened, tilting her head to give him better access. Draco nibbled her neck and shoulder, tongue darting out to taste her sweat-laden skin. His fingers dug into her hips as he fucked her in earnest, loving the heady scent of their joined bodies.

Their room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, her breathy moans, and his low grunts. Hermione gasped, smiling drunkenly when he hit just the right spot. “Gods, Draco, you feel so good! I missed you so much!”

Draco’s tail tightened around her. “M’ sorry…m’ sorry…” he moaned, lips pressed against her ear. She shook her head jerkily, reaching back to scratch his ears. His head dropped into her touch, his rumbling purrs vibrating wonderfully against her back.

When Hermione’s fingers brushed a particularly good spot, Draco’s mouth dropped and out came a surprising, soft trill noise. It reminded her of the sound Crookshanks used to make when watching birds out the window, and if her fiancé wasn’t currently fucking her brains out, she may have found it cute.

He whimpered incoherently between trills, his human and animal side struggling against one another to articulate what he wanted.

“-me,” Hermione heard. “Please don’t leave me…please don’t leave me…”

The Gryffindor’s heart squeezed painfully. “I’m here,” she gasped out, “I’m right here.”

Draco’s body went taught above her, and with three jerky thrusts, he came with a howl. Hermione bit her lip as she felt his release flowing deep inside her.

The Slytherin’s mouth hung open as he continued to come, longer than he ever had before. When the waves of pleasure finally calmed, he slumped against his fiancée, completely sated.

Hermione continued to stroke his ears as he caught his breath, making his softening cock twitch inside her.

After several long moments, when her pulsing walls were too much on his oversensitive prick, Draco carefully pulled out.

He frowned as his seed started spilling out of her, running down her thighs and cunt. He quickly caught the drips with two fingers, followed the trail back up to her pulsating hole, and shoved both his fingers and cum back inside her.

Hermione squealed, bucking back against his hand. “D-Draco – oh, Draco!”

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of the way she moaned his name. “That’s it, love. Take it all inside your pretty cunt. You love my cum, don’t you?” Draco growled, scissoring his fingers until he found the spongy bundle of nerves that always made her weak.

Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head, her pussy sensitive from his cock, but still clenching needily around his fingers. “Yes, yes!” she cried, arching her back as his long digits caressed her in places she could never reach on her own.

“Come on, sweetheart, come for me. I want you to come on my fingers,” Draco rasped.

“Y-Yes please – I – oh, oh!” Hermione gasped as her orgasm took her in its clutches, riding her fiancé’s fingers with abandon. He ran a soothing hand down her back and pumped his digits in and out of her until she was whimpering with sensitivity.

Pulling out, Draco licked his fingers clean, moaning at the taste of their combined juices.

Hermione panted into the sheets, muttering under her breath. He laid down next to her, running a comforting hand up and down her back. “Was I too rough?” he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck.

Hermione languidly rolled towards her fiancé and pressed her lips to his. “Not at all. It was…mm, wonderful.”

He smiled against her mouth, draping an arm across her waist. They kissed lazily for several quiet minutes, pausing when Hermione giggled. “Your tail is tickling me!”

While the comment would have made him frown several hours ago, Draco now smirked mischievously. “Oh?” he drawled, dragging his tail purposefully along the length of her spine.

“Eep! Draco, stop!” she protested, squirming in his arms.

The next thing the Gryffindor knew, her sneaky Slytherin fiancé was poking and prodding her sensitive sides.

Hermione squealed with laughter, trying in vain to escape his touch. “AH! You traitor! You fiend! Stop it! Stop – AHAHA! – stop it at once! Y-You know I’m vulnerable after sex! HAHAHA! Release me, you slimy Slytherin!”

Draco ignored his fiancée’s demands to cease. “It’s no use! You Gryffindors are no match for my Slytherin cunning!” he declared.

Hermione howled with laughter, kicking and thrashing beneath him. It wasn’t until she cried for mercy that he stopped his assault.

Her face scrunched up in adorable aggravation as she glared up at him. Draco grinned and kissed her nose.

“I hate you,” she grumbled.

“You love me,” he replied snidely.

Hermione’s expression of irritation vanished, replaced by one of deep adoration. “I do, Draco. I really, really do.”

His silver eyes softened and he bit his lip in an almost embarrassed manner. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Draco snuggled as close to her as possible, nuzzling into her chest. “I know,” he whispered, winding his tail around her leg.

Hermione smiled, scratching at his ears. His purr rumbled through her soothingly.

“You know, it may not be such a terrible thing if you stayed like this,” she said jokingly.

Draco’s gaze jerked up in horror. “Merlin, no! I am not living the rest of my life as some cat-human hybrid! No one would take me seriously! And just imagine my portrait after I pass!” he proclaimed with a shudder.

“Aw, but you’re so cute!” Hermione teased, playing with his ears.

“C-Cute!? Cute!? Malfoys are not cute!” he sputtered.

“You are, though! You’re like my sexy little pet,” she purred with a wink.

Draco cringed, slumping against her with a groan. “God Hermione, how is it we’ve been together for four years, and you’re still bollocks at flirting? I would have thought I’d taught you something by now!”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Aw, don’t be like that, love! I promise I’ll take good care of you! I’ll feed you, and pet you, and get you a nice collar with a cute little bell-”

Draco growled, pinning her wrists above her head. “That’s it, woman! You’re forbidden from talking for the rest of the night!”

Hermione arched an amused brow. “Oh really? And just how are you going to manage thaAAAT!? Ohhh, god…”  Her cocky words dissolved into a helpless moan as he pushed into her for the second time that night.

Draco smirked sinfully above her. “You’re not allowed to talk…but you may scream and beg as much as you like.”

Chapter Text

“Draco, hurry up!”

“Merlin woman, give me a moment!” Draco shouted as he quickly ensured Hermione wasn’t looking before charming the dishes to wash themselves. For reasons that continuously escaped him, his Gryffindor bride loved to reiterate the importance of not “wasting” magic on menial tasks; he was completely certain she just enjoyed making him do chores the muggle way. The swot was lucky he loved her.

Speaking of swottiness-

“It’s about to start, hurry up! Finish the dishes later, you’re going to miss it!” Hermione called impatiently from the sitting room.

Draco huffed, blowing a strand of white-blond hair out of his face. “We’re in the middle of the bloody woods, do you want us to get ants?”

The Slytherin could practically hear the eyeroll in her reply. “Ants Draco, really? We’re about to witness an amazing astronomical phenomenon that only occurs once every few decades, and you’re worrying about ants?”

Sighing, Draco cancelled the spell, allowing the dishes to drop into the soapy water. He dried his hands with a towel as he padded into the sitting room, where his wife was levitating a transfigured chaise lounge to sit beneath the charmed ceiling.

“You’re the one that insisted on camping for our anniversary, so if we return my father’s tent with ants, I’m placing the blame fully on you,” Draco said half-jokingly.

Hermione turned, arching an unimpressed brow. “Love, have you seen this ruddy thing? It hardly constitutes as camping when your tent has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full kitchen, a sitting room, and a dining room, don’t you think?”

Draco’s reply was lost when Hermione looked up and gasped. “Oh, it’s starting! Come on, come on!” she squealed, tugging him over by the arm. He allowed her to manhandle him onto the chaise where he laid down next to her and looked up. She’d charmed the tent’s ceiling to be see-through so they had a clear view of the night sky.

Hermione then whipped out a notepad, causing Draco to frown. “Granger, what on earth on are you doing?”

“Hm? Oh, I promised Luna I’d take notes for her article in the Quibbler, since she won’t be able watch it herself. Something about being too busy studying the migration patterns of hinkypunks in the Amazon, or something,” she replied absently.

Draco groaned. When he’d discovered a rare Leonid meteor shower was happening on their anniversary, he thought it would be the perfect activity for them to celebrate with. Fortunately, Hermione had been quite thrilled at the suggestion and agreed immediately.

Unfortunately, his fantasy of a romantic picnic beneath the stars followed by a few rounds of fierce lovemaking was dashed when his wife took to the idea of camping instead, proceeding to ramble excitedly about how she hadn’t been camping in years, and she used to camp all the time with her parents growing up, and how much she missed it, and didn’t that sound like fun, Draco?

Blast his softened heart, but he simply couldn’t deny her.

She’d been decidedly less enthused when he insisted on taking his family’s poncey tent (her words, not his) but Draco wouldn’t even entertain the thought of scavenging about in the woods the muggle way. Eventually, Hermione had caved in the spirit of compromise.

Really, Draco supposed he should have known that his swot of a bride would become too interested in the rare phenomenon. The whole event had poked at her incorrigible scholarly side until it burst out roaring for knowledge.

“So you’re just going to take notes on the meteor shower like you’re about to be quizzed on it rather than sit back and enjoy it with me?” the Slytherin pouted.

Hermione, to her credit, did look a bit sheepish at his words. “No no, don’t worry. It should go on for a while, so I’ll only take notes for the first twenty minutes or so.”

Draco cocked a brow. “Ten minutes.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Fifteen.”

“Eight.”

“Thirteen.”

“Seven.”

“Twelve!”

“Five.”

“Alright, fine, ten minutes! Good Godric, you’re so ridiculous sometimes!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

The Slytherin smirked triumphantly. “And you love me all the more. Now, come here,” he demanded, opening his arms. Rolling her eyes, Hermione cuddled up to her husband’s chest. “You’d better not distract me! I promised Luna!”

Draco kissed her cheek. “I won’t, Slytherin’s honor.”

“Like that means anything…”

When the first meteors lit up the sky, a grin split across Hermione’s face. She watched ardently, not taking her gaze off the sky even while writing. Draco’s attention was split between the meteor shower itself, and its reflection in his wife’s large eyes. His own expression softened at the elated, almost childlike wonder in her transfixed stare. Though it absolutely annoyed him to death sometimes, Draco ultimately adored his wife’s genuine love of research and academics. She was fucking gorgeous when her eyes lit up at a new discovery, or narrowed in intense concentration when studying the newest thing that had caught her interest. Though he teased and nagged her about it regularly, Draco secretly hoped Hermione never lost her driving curiosity and unsatiable desire to learn.

They watched the meteor shower in comfortable silence, and after ten minutes, Hermione kept her word and put the notepad away. She tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder, sighing as he stroked her back.

When Draco’s eager fingers slipped beneath her jumper, she pursed her lips, but said nothing as he caressed her bare stomach. However, when he started playing with the button on her jeans, Hermione squirmed. “Draco, you said you wouldn’t distract me.”

“Correction, my dear,” he replied with a smirk, “I said I wouldn’t distract you while you were taking notes. Which, you’re not doing anymore, are you?”

“No, but I still want to watch till the end,” she huffed, swatting his roaming hand away from her zipper. “It’s such a magnificent sight, don’t you think? Besides, isn’t your family basically obsessed with astronomy? I thought this would be right up your alley.”

Draco’s brow twitched. He was getting cockblocked by fucking stars of all things!

“So let me get this straight-” he gave a dramatic hand gesture, “-I, your extremely handsome and profoundly romantic husband, graciously took you out here on this lovely excursion, despite my general dislike of the wilderness, and you’re not even going to have sex with me on our anniversary night?” Draco grumbled, jutting his lower lip out for emphasis.

Hermione, used to his little exaggerated sulks when he didn’t immediately get his way, merely rolled her eyes. “Of course I will, you ninny, just not until after the meteor shower. Surely you can exercise that much patience?”

Draco continued to pout. “But Hermione…he’s ready now.”

The Gryffindor groaned. “Have I not told you many times how unsexy it is when you refer to your dick as if it’s a person?”

“Well, he certainly has a mind of his own, if you know what I mean,” the Slytherin teased, waggling his brows.

“This very stimulating conversation is not making me want to have sex with you,” Hermione deadpanned.

Draco sighed dramatically. “Very well, if it’s not words you’re craving tonight, I shall use actions instead.” He rolled off the chaise, his wife’s eyes finally leaving the sky for a brief moment to glare at him.

“Don’t you dare-”

With practiced finesse, Draco lifted Hermione off the chaise and set her in his lap. Easily ignoring her squirming protests, he maneuvered them so that she lay atop him, her back on his chest. “There. Now we can keep watching whilst I expertly seduce you,” he declared proudly.

Hermione craned her neck to shoot him an unimpressed look, which he merely grinned at. “What? You’re the one who always says compromise is key!”

Tossing her hands up in surrender, Hermione laid back on Draco’s chest with a huff. “Oh, fine. But you’d better make it good. An eight at minimum!” she demanded.

He chuckled, kissing her temple. “Are you saying I don’t always make it that good for you?”

Hermione hummed. “I don’t know, there have been a few times-”

Draco pinched her bum. “You’d better watch what you say, witch. Otherwise, you may find yourself unable to walk for a few days,” he whispered against her ear.

"Oh, if only,” she replied cheekily.

He huffed a laugh and cupped a clothed breast. “Saucy wench.”

Draco laid feather-light kisses against her ear while he kneaded her tit through her jumper. Hermione tilted her head to grant him better access, but gave no further indication that she liked his ministrations. No doubt her attention was still mostly on the stars soaring above their heads. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

He brushed her hair aside and began trailing his lips down her neck, sucking gently at her pulse point. One hand slid under her jumper, his cold fingers against her warm skin making her jump. Draco brushed his thumb teasingly across her nipple through her bra while his other hand flirted with the skin at her waistband.

Hermione could pretend to be uninterested, but at the end of the day, he knew her body too well. He was well-versed in what she liked, what she didn’t, and which spots made her go crazy.

By the time Draco had enclosed the tip of her ear in his teeth, her breathing had grown noticeably heavier. He slowly rolled her jumper up past her breasts, feeling her skin prickle against the cold air. He just barely pinched her hard nipples through her bra, making her squirm against him. She gripped his thigh, head dropping into his shoulder as he ran a teasing finger down the middle of her stomach.

Hermione’s breath hitched in anticipation when Draco dipped the tips of his fingers beneath her waistband – then exhaled with disappointment when he withdrew.

The Slytherin smirked, knowing how much she adored it when he teased her – not that she’d ever admit it.

“More…”

If Hermione’s lips hadn’t been right next to his ear, Draco may not have heard her whispered plea.

Smirking triumphantly, he helped her tug off her jumper and unclipped her bra, dumping both articles to the floor. He encased both breasts in his hands, the perky globes fitting wonderfully in his palms. Hermione sighed and ground her arse against his erection, drawing a hoarse grunt from his throat. Draco pinched both nipples in retribution, tweaking and rolling them in his fingers.

Hermione’s back arched as he pulled the greedy peaks until her breasts lifted off her body, a low moan escaping her. The sound made his cock twitch in his pants.

Turning her heated, needy gaze on him, Hermione bit her lip as she took Draco’s hand and guided it down to where she wanted it most. He allowed it, letting her press his fingers against her moist slit through her knickers. Her eyes slid shut as she pleasured herself with his fingers, grinding her cunt against his hand.

"You’re missing the show, love,” Draco breathed against her ear.

She shuddered, letting out a sound between a groan and a huff. “You’d best take over then.”

He chuckled and finally slipped his hand into her knickers. Her eyelids fluttered, a quiet moan escaping her as he stroked her clit. Hermione lifted her hips to tug off her jeans and knickers in one go, leaving her completely exposed atop him.

Draco pressed his cheek against hers with a content sigh, sliding two fingers into her wet heat to prepare her. She turned to meet his lips in a slow kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his own.

Liquid heat ran down his spine when Hermione reached between them to massage the bulge through his trousers.

Draco’s hips automatically bucked into her touch. She smiled against his mouth and dragged the zipper down slowly. He licked his lips in anticipation, breath hitching when she withdrew his straining cock. Her playful fingers teased the head, then ghosted down the shaft until they reached his bollocks, heavy and swollen with cum.

Draco panted against Hermione’s face as she weighed them in her hand and gave a little squeeze. He hissed her name as his cock twitched, jealous of the attention his balls were receiving. She smirked knowingly, returning her gaze to the starry shower above their heads as her infuriating fingertips flitted up his sensitive shaft. Draco exhaled shakily, her teasing touches only making him crave more.

Hermione’s index finger swiped over the head of his cock, gathering a bead of precum. He watched enraptured as she stuck out her tongue and dragged the pad of her finger down the appendage, tasting his arousal with a soft moan.

“Please…”

Draco didn’t even register that soft, pleading whimper had come out of his mouth until Hermione smirked. He blushed at his own desperation, which only seemed to please her more.

It seems in his quest to seduce her and make her beg for him, he’d forgotten that she knew him just as well.

Her deep brown eyes darted towards him as she licked a slow stripe up her palm, a sight that made his abdomen burn. Then, her merciful hand was wrapped around his cock.

Draco threw his head back with a groan. “Yesss-”

Hermione bucked her hips against his fingers, which had gone still inside her, reminding him that he had his own task to do.

The Slytherin obediently pumped his fingers within her tight cunt, her velvet walls pulsing around his digits. “That’s it, Draco,” she panted, stroking him faster as a reward.

He keened at her approval and ground the heel of his palm into her clit while he fingered her, his desire to please her suddenly skyrocketing. Hermione moaned appreciatively, canting her hips into his hand. Draco’s eyes crossed when she began twisting her wrist at the head of his cock with each stroke, his muscles tensing as pressure built behind his navel.

“Close,” he gasped.

Nodding, Hermione slowed her pace to a stop, and Draco whined in part relief and part disappointment. Following suit, he withdrew his fingers from her and moved to clean them off, but she beat him to it, taking his wrist and sucking the soaked digits into her mouth. Draco’s cock pulsed, wishing for her mouth to be lower instead.

After thoroughly cleaning his fingers, Hermione sat up and positioned his prick at her entrance. He admired the sight of her unruly curls tumbling down her freckled back, a vision more beautiful to him than any night sky.

She eyed him playfully over her shoulder, rubbing her pussy against his shaft. “Think you can hold out?”

Despite his hips trembling with the need to slam himself inside her, Draco managed a confident smirk. “Come on Granger, have some faith in me.”

Hermione hummed, continuing to coat his cock in her juices. “Alright, but if you come too soon, don’t think I won’t punish you,” she sang.

His answering scoff dissolved into a moan as she sank down onto him. She rocked herself teasingly and clenched around him. Draco swore, drawing in a deep breath to keep from immediately coming like some inexperienced fourth year.

“Still good?” Hermione taunted.

Silver eyes narrowing, Draco snapped his hips up, causing her to cry out. “Just peachy,” was his smug reply.

Smiling at him over her shoulder, the Gryffindor laid back down on his chest, legs spreading wide as she began canting her hips experimentally. He helped by bending his knees and thrusting upwards until they established a rhythm that had them both panting.

Seeking better leverage, Hermione wove one arm under Draco’s shoulders. “Harder,” was her breathy demand, one he was all too happy to meet. Soon, she was biting her lip and whimpering as he fucked her from below, her nails digging into his shoulder. She turned her head so that their noses bumped, glazed brown eyes opening to meet his half-lidded silver ones.

“Draco,” she murmured breathlessly, her free hand reaching out to search for his. Draco linked their fingers together and nipped at her lips, which were red and swollen from her constant biting.

Hermione panted into his mouth, back arching as his cock hit her g-spot. “Touch me,” she pleaded.

Smirking, he flicked her nipple playfully. “You mean right here?”

Groaning, she shook her head. Draco dragged his fingers down her side and across her lower belly. “Here?” he breathed.

“Lower,” Hermione begged.

Electing to tease her no longer, he reached down to roughly pinch her clit. “Right here?”

“Yes, fuck!” she cried, walls fluttering around him at the extra stimulation.

Draco gave a raspy moan, feeling his impending release creep up on him. Determined to feel her come around his cock, he rubbed her clit in quick, tight circles.

“G-Gonna come,” he choked out just moments before the pressure in his balls shattered, and he was emptying himself inside her with a hoarse groan.

Hermione trembled atop him, gasping as her walls spasmed around his cock. The stars above blurred together until they were little more than an indecipherable mishmash of lights.

They lay in silence for a few moments as they caught their breath. Blinking, Hermione looked over at him as the same realization seemed to dawn on them at the same time.

“Did we just…?” she began.

“I-I think we did,” he replied, mystified. Slowly, they both burst into stunned laughter.

“Ha-have we ever come at the same time before?” she wondered.

“Not that I can remember…maybe meteor showers hold some kind of sex magic!” Draco joked.

Hermione chuckled and turned over on her stomach. She kicked her legs in the air behind her and smiled up at him through her lashes.

He smiled back and quirked a brow. “So? Was that at least an eight?”

She hummed contemplatively. “Perhaps…but I think a repeat performance might be required for further study. I have to be completely certain before making my final verdict, after all.”

“Oh?” Draco drawled suggestively, one hand roaming down to squeeze her bum. He tangled the other in her hair and began kissing his way down her neck. “Shall I…assist in your research?”

Hermione cupped his face and brought him in for a kiss. “Yes…but not here.”

Suddenly she was climbing off him, and Draco’s body shivered at the loss. He watched in confusion as she summoned one of her summer dresses from the bedroom and threw it on, not even bothering to put on any underwear.

“Uh, Hermione?”

His Gryffindor turned with a mischievous smirk. “The meteor shower is still going on. We should test that theory of yours. But for accuracy’s sake, I think we should…get a little close to the source?”

Draco eyed her blankly for a few moments, then his mouth opened in shock.

“Y-You want to do it outside!?”

Hermione giggled and nodded.

In a flash, his eyes darkened and he sprang up from the chaise. “Now you’re speaking my language, Granger,” he growled as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her feverishly.

He was starting to like this whole camping thing.

Chapter Text

The flustered portrait shut quietly behind Blaise Zabini as he crept into the Head dorms with a victorious smirk. Thankfully, the common area was totally vacant, as he correctly assumed that it would be at such a late hour. No doubt the strict, schedule-worshiping Granger would be studying away in her room or the library, and Draco would likely be there trying to distract her.

To say it was a shock when those two got together mid-year would be an understatement –

Well, a shock to anyone but Blaise, anyway. He had simply smirked and patted himself on the back, pleased with his spot-on intuition.

The Italian pushed those thoughts away as he set his mind towards his mission of the evening: to locate and reclaim the bottle of finely aged firewhiskey that Head Girl Granger had rudely confiscated from him a week before. It wasn’t his fault he’d vanished it to the library in a drunken haze, causing it to spill all over an old tome! But of course, rule-abiding Granger hadn’t yielded to any of his attempts to win it back, and all he’d gotten for his efforts was a scalding lecture from both her and Madame Pince.

But was what worse, was that when he appealed to Draco about it, foolishly thinking that if anyone could sway the stubborn Golden Girl, her boyfriend could, his supposed “best mate” had taken her side!

The blond tosser had the gall to laugh at him and say, “Well maybe if you’d stop drinking yourself into bloody stupor every weekend, I’d have a bit of sympathy for you.”

The nerve!

The audacity!

The disrespect!

His poor habits were his to manage and enjoy, thank you very much!

Blaise had known that Draco had deeper feelings for their resident bossy swot than even he himself was probably aware of, but Blaise never thought he’d ever see his best mate so thoroughly whipped. Any other time, Blaise would laugh hysterically at the irony of Draco falling so hard for the girl he used to bully, but when a bottle of Ogden’s best was on the line, he had no time to appreciate it.

Thus, Blaise snuck into the small kitchen area to begin his search. He intended to drink the rest of the sweet liquor tonight, not willing to risk Granger finding out, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to stomp down to the dungeons and accost him.

The stuff was 200 years old and they only sold fifty bottles a year. No way was he giving it up without a fight!

As Blaise rummaged through one of the cabinets, a low moan echoed from upstairs, making him pause.

A beat of silence, then came another, the sound deep and masculine, and barely muffled.

An amused smirk stretched across Blaise’s face. Well, well, well, sounds like Granger knew her way around a cock, if those pleasured grunts and groans were anything to go by. Lucky Draco, but even luckier for Blaise, as it meant both Heads were even more distracted than he’d anticipated. Perfect.

Blaise hunted through the fridge as the sounds of his friend’s pleasure grew louder. It didn’t bother him; Merlin knows Draco had overheard a number of his own conquests throughout the years they’d been roommates.

However, after several minutes, something about the noises struck Blaise as odd. Why hadn’t he heard Granger moan yet? Draco may not have had nearly as many bedmates as he, but surely, his friend wasn’t that bad in the sack.

The next conclusion then, would be that Draco was indulging in some self-pleasure, but Blaise had caught him enough times to know that his blond friend preferred showers for that particular activity.

A sudden SMACK resonated throughout the dorm, making Blaise jump. The harsh-sounding noise was followed by a hoarse whine from Draco – a whine for Merlin’s sake! – and the familiar domineering tone of Granger.

“I told you to keep your head up!”

Blaise’s mind blanked.

Keep his head up? What the hell? Now he knew there was something weird going on.

He heard Draco whimper out an apology and beg his Gryffindor girlfriend not to stop, the tone so foreign that for a moment, Blaise wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly. He’d known Draco since they were in nappies, and yet never had he ever heard the blond sound so…so…needy and desperate.

While most would have left immediately, traumatized and trying to forget it, Blaise was not like most.

He was simply too curious to leave it alone.

With his new resolve in mind, the Italian cast a silencing spell on his shoes and began creeping up the stairs. As he approached, the sounds of Draco’s eager moans grew closer and louder, until he spotted one of the bedroom doors partially open. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting guests.

Blaise advanced towards the door, and when he was close enough, he cautiously pressed close to the frame. As a last minute thought, he also cast a simple disillusionment spell over himself, just in case.

Finally, the Italian allowed himself to peek around the open door.

What he saw sent his jaw clattering to the floor.

His best mate was on his hands and knees facing the headboard of the four-poster bed that was clearly Granger’s, as it was laden with scarlet sheets with gold trimmings. Granger herself was positioned behind him, standing on her knees as her hips smacked rhythmically against Draco’s. Blaise’s eyes fell to the Head Girl’s surprisingly shapely arse, which was lined with thick black straps that circled her thighs and waist.

He recognized that thing…it was a strap-on! He’d only ever seen them in those muggle porn films, particularly the ones solely involving women.

Blaise could only stare in utter astonishment as realization washed over him.

Granger was fucking his best friend’s brains out with a fake cock, and by the sounds said friend was making, Blaise would say that Draco liked it…a lot.

Sweet Salazar. He always knew Granger was bossy, authoritarian, and controlling, but he never would have guessed she was a freak on top of that!

Blaise watched as Draco’s arms shook, and he collapsed face-first into the pillows. Granger tutted and delivered a swift slap to the blond’s arse, making him jerk with a muffled whimper.

“Strike two, Draco. One more, and it’s the paddle for you.”

Draco turned his face to the side, looking up at his girlfriend with a pleading gleam in his eye. “Please,” he panted.

“Please what, Draco? Use your words!” Granger demanded, yanking her boyfriend’s head up by the-

Holy shit, was that a leash!? Merlin’s fucking nuts, the sweet and stern Hermione Granger had his arrogant, smarmy best friend on a fucking leash! Literally!

Blaise couldn’t believe his own bulging eyes.

Forget whipped; Draco Malfoy was a fucking masochist who liked being leashed like a dog by his swot of a girlfriend while she spanked and pegged his arse into submission!

Merlin, if Lucius Malfoy could see his son now, the bastard would probably die of mortification.

Draco cast Granger a baleful look. “Fuck Hermione, c’mon, you already made me beg-”

“Are you talking back to me?”

Blaise held his breath, recognizing the rebellious glint in his friend’s eye. “Well, isn’t that how a conversation works?”

Blaise couldn’t see the Head Girl’s expression, but he knew from experience how unimpressed she tended to be with those she deemed as “wise arses.”

Sure enough, Granger clicked her tongue and withdrew from Draco, making the Head Boy groan in protest. “You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you tonight, eh?” said the curly haired witch, standing up on the bed. “In that case, why don’t we put it to better use?”

If possible, the Italian’s eyes widened even further at the implications of her words.

Draco copied his expression, eyeing the dark red cock dubiously as Granger stroked it teasingly.

“You’ve got to be-” the blond began, but was swiftly silenced by another slap to his reddening arse.

“Perhaps I’ve been a bit too lenient with you,” said the Head Girl conversationally, “if you want my cock so badly, you’ll have to earn it.”

There was a beat of silence as Draco’s silver eyes darted between his girlfriend and the fake prick bobbing before him.

“Well go on,” Granger prompted, “give us a kiss.”

Draco swallowed visibly.

Blaise watched in shock as his best friend slowly turned around on all fours, lower lip caught between his teeth.

The vulnerable expression on the blond’s face was obscenely foreign to Blaise, who rarely saw his best mate let his guard down even amongst familiar company.

Eyes fluttering, Draco timidly leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the very tip of Granger’s cock. He looked up at his girlfriend as if seeking her approval, and when she nodded, he drew in a shuddery breath and started kissing down the shaft. The Head Girl weaved her fingers through her boyfriend’s hair encouragingly, making him sigh at her touch.

Once he’d kissed every inch of the silicone, Draco drew back and, with a hesitant glance towards Granger, sucked the tip into his mouth.

“There we are, good boy, Draco. C’mon, show your appreciation,” the Head Girl cooed as she coaxed him to take more of her.

Silver eyes sliding shut, Draco leaned forward, the fake cock bulging against his cheek.

“No no love, look at me,” Granger cooed.

The Head Boy’s eyes snapped open obediently, darting up to meet those of his lover as he timidly bobbed his head on her cock.

Granger continued to gently yet firmly coach Draco through the blowjob, canting her hips carefully into his mouth after he grew used to the sensation.

Blaise had lost count of the number of times he’d rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The straight-as-a-rod Slytherin prince was willingly sucking on a fake cock to please his apparently very adventurous girlfriend, and damn, if Draco wasn’t like a brother to him, Blaise might have asked to join them. The Italian had always been partial to the company of both men and women in his bed, so this would have been an ideal fantasy for him if the participants had been anyone but Granger and Draco.

The curly haired witch now had both hands buried in his friend’s hair and was guiding him onto her cock. Draco gagged slightly when she went in deeper, drool dripping down his chin. Nevertheless, he didn’t falter, forehead wrinkling as he picked up his pace.

Blaise arched a mildly impressed brow before Granger instructed her lover to stop.

Draco removed his mouth from her cock with a shuddery breath, panting open-mouthed as he stared imploringly up at the Head Girl, like a puppy waiting to be given a treat.

“Very good, Draco,” Granger praised softly, “you sucked me so well, darling. Your lips looked so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

The blond leaned into his girlfriend’s touch, placing a reverent kiss on her thumb. “Have I earned a reward?” he rasped hopefully.

The curly haired witch pat Draco’s cheek almost condescendingly. “If you say please,” she crooned.

Blaise saw the flare of irritation in his friend’s eye, and waited for the snappy retort. However, that rebellious glint was gone in a second, replaced with needy desire.

“Please,” Draco whispered, just loud enough for Blaise to hear.

Granger dropped to her knees and drew the Head Boy in for a kiss. Draco visibly melted beneath her swotty mouth, allowing her to cup his face and basically make love to his lips.

The blond broke the kiss with a gasp when she squeezed his cock without warning. Draco’s head dropped backwards, legs shaking and moaning as Granger pumped his length avidly. “W-Wait – ah fuck – Grang – I-I can’t, gonna co – Hermione, fuck, stop!”

Granger did so, tilting her head as though confused as she toyed with his leash. “Oh? Was that not what you were begging so nicely for?”

Draco scowled, cheeks flushing with humiliation. “Don’t mock me! You know what I want…”

The Head Girl softened, cupping her boyfriend’s cheek and kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry, love. What’s your color?”

The blond pursed his lips and drew in a shaky breath. “Green. I’m okay. Green.”

Granger stroked Draco’s jaw. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, then?”

The normally cocky and assertive Head Boy tilted his head and moaned submissively as his girlfriend kissed his pale neck. “Fuck me,” he sighed pleadingly.

Blaise watched as Granger encouraged Draco to lie on his back and pulled his hips into her lap. The witch then stuck two fingers in her mouth and wet them thoroughly. The Italian couldn’t quite see what was happening from where he was standing, but from the gentle moan his friend gave, he’d guess that Granger had just slipped those fingers inside of him.

After checking that her boyfriend’s arse was prepared, confirmed with an enthusiastic nod from Draco, she cast a lubrication charm and reentered him with a few careful thrusts.

“Fuck, Hermione…” croaked the blond as his lover pounded into him.

Granger smoothed back her wild hair as she fucked him, hips rolling expertly into her boyfriend. Blaise chuckled quietly in wonder as her movements turned rougher, the sound of skin smacking skin growing louder alongside the clinking of metal when the devious witch yanked on her lover’s leash.

Through it all, Draco continued to whine and beg for more, moaning like a bitch in heat as he wrapped his legs around Granger as if to ensure she stayed there.

Just when Blaise thought he couldn’t possibly be surprised any more than he already was, the Head Girl’s next words sent his brain whirling.

“You look so gorgeous like this, love,” she panted, “taking this cock like good little slag. That’s what you are, aren’t you? My sweet little pureblooded whore, so hungry for my cock.”

Blaise stood there with his mouth agape, certain that Granger had taken it too far. While Draco’s well hidden insecurities had been improving as of late, he still grew defensive at any implication of belittlement or insult towards him.

However, Blaise was left mystified when his friend whimpered loudly and threw his head back in pleasure.

What the hell? Draco liked the degradation? What fucking universe had he stepped into when he passed through that portrait!?

“Hermione…fuck, I’m close!”

Granger tilted her head at her boyfriend’s whimpered warning. “Oh? You haven’t even asked if you’re allowed.”

Merlin’s balls, Granger was sadistic as fuck!

Really, Blaise should have known there was something nefarious lurking under the Head Girl’s kind, straight-collared surface. It was always the quiet, seemingly innocent ones that were the freakiest behind closed doors. Blaise thought he would have learned that lesson after his adventurous romp with Luna Lovegood earlier in the year…

Draco eyed Granger pleadingly, lower lip trapped between his teeth.

The dastardly Gryffindor chuckled. “Tell you what. Admit that you’re my lovely little whore, and I’ll let you come.”

Indignation flashed through the blond’s eyes as he opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a choked whine when Granger grasped the base of his cock to prevent his climax.

“Hermione, please!”

“Say it, darling. Say it, and release is yours.”

Draco’s eyes rolled back into his head as Granger rammed into him, completely absent of mercy. “I-I-,” the Slytherin tried, only to be cut off by the raspy moan that tore from his throat.

“That’s it, love. A little more,” Granger encouraged.

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Draco shyly met his lover’s gaze. “I’m a-a – oh fuck, right there! W-Whore. I’m your whore.”

The Head Girl gave a please hum. “That’ll do. Come for me, angel.”

Blaise blinked at Granger’s odd choice of pet name whilst Draco shook the room with his strangled shout as he tumbled over the edge.

When she pulled out, the blond had gone as limp as a dead fish beneath her, completely unmoving aside from the uneven rise and fall of his chest. Removing the strap on with a simple spell, Granger then conjured a damp cloth and gently cleaned the drying seed from Draco’s stomach. Crawling up his immobile form, she lifted her boyfriend’s head into her lap before kissing him tenderly and stroking his hair.

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, and Blaise nearly snorted as the dopiest grin in history graced his friend’s face.

Granger asked if he was alright and quietly fussed over him even when he assured her he was wonderful.

Blaise wrinkled his nose at the sickeningly sweet display and stepped away from the door.

It was one thing to watch his best friend and his girlfriend engage in kinky play and fuck each other like rabbits; watching them act all mushy and lovey-dovey was something else entirely.

The Italian descended the stairs in a daze, feeling like his brain was melting out of his ears at the world-spinning discoveries he’d made.

He’d known Draco their whole lives, and yet if someone had told him the smug blond prat was more submissive in bed than a Knockturn Alley slag and got off on being pegged, spanked, degraded, and leashed, Blaise would have laughed himself stupid.

This clearly hadn’t been Draco and Granger’s first go, which made him wonder just how long they’d been experimenting.

What other kind of debauchery were they into?

Blaise couldn’t very well ask, not without getting hexed in the teeth, anyway. He highly doubted either Head would share such information with him regardless.

However…

Blaise thought as a smirk stretched across his face.

That certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t share this discovery with others.

Well, not with strangers or people who would use it maliciously against Draco and Granger, of course.

Blaise wasn’t cruel, but he was very much a Slytherin. And what kind of Slytherin would he be if he passed up such an ideal opportunity for blackmail?

Blaise could so easily picture their friends’ reactions: Theo and Ginny would laugh their arses off, Potter and Weasley would turn green and white simultaneously – hell, Weasley might even faint if he was lucky – and Pansy would undoubtedly screech at him until his ears rang, both for invading their privacy and telling her something she would have rather bleached her hair than know.

Oh, but it would be worth it. The sweetest revenge for stealing away his precious Ogden’s.

Blaise would bet his entire collection of rolled Cuban cigars that Draco would be far more amiable to returning his whiskey after this.

But first…he had a certain blonde Ravenclaw to find.

Witnessing the depraved yet enticing activities of the two Heads had made the Italian curious, and he’d always been the type to try anything at least once.

Hopefully Luna still had some of that weird leafy concoction of hers left.

Chapter Text

"Actually, Professor-”

Draco paused mid-explanation, eyelid twitching as he glared at the one who’d cut him off.

Hogwarts’ number one swot had her hand proudly in the air as though she’d just won the Quidditch World Cup. Completely ignoring his scathing glower, Granger barreled on as if she hadn’t just utterly interrupted him with no shame to speak of. “-Malfoy is mistaken. The Third Great Goblin Revolt ended because Gobthor the Annihilator tried to hide the crown jewels in his stomach by swallowing them whole. Gobthor was said to have a large ego, and thought his body could handle it. However, what actually happened was the jewels completely blocked his small intestine, and he died a week later from difficulties while defecating.”

A chorus of “eww!” and immature snickers rang through the classroom, but Granger paid them no mind as she prattled on.

“Without Gobthor, the goblins stood no chance against the wizards and surrendered. The goblins made up the story about Gobthor being eaten by a dragon, because it was less embarrassing for them. The truth only came to light when Gobthor’s body was found months later.”

Professor Binns was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s correct, thank you for informing us of the accurate events, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor,” the man droned in his usual monotone, and Draco legitimately couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or not.

Granger beamed, sitting a little straighter in her seat. If the bint straightened up anymore, her spine would probably snap in two, Draco thought snidely.

Circe, she infuriated him. The brown-nosing, bushy-haired, stick-up-the-arse Granger always had to prove someone wrong, always had to portray herself in the best light possible, always had to be so fucking right about everything. And he was positive there was no one in school she enjoyed showing up more than him. Which made sense, given that they were the two top students in Hogwarts, but still. Granger never missed an opportunity to publicly correct him, or out-perform him, or anything that would show just how bloody superior she was. Granted, Draco always gave as good as he got, to the point that he was pretty sure most of the other students held a healthy fear of both of them, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still grind his gears every time she trounced him.

That look on her face, the subtle little side-eye she was currently sending him, so smug with a hint of challenging heat –

It made him want to ruin her.

Draco boldly scowled right back, reigning in the threatening tug at the corner of his lips.

When class was dismissed, the blond strode casually to the door as though he hadn’t a care in the world, expression betraying none of the wicked plans running through his mind. Right before making his exit, Granger announced that she wouldn’t be able to attend the Gryffindor party that evening, as she’d be holed up in the library to work on an essay. Her friends protested, but every one of them missed the deliberate way she tugged twice at her sleeve. Draco didn’t.

He smirked at the sight of their non-verbal ‘go’ signal. She hadn’t changed her mind, then. Good. Tonight was going to be fun.

Later that night, when the windows had darkened, Draco entered the library with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. To the random onlooker, it would appear as though he were casually perusing the shelves as he wandered amongst the stacks without a hint of hurry in his steps. Little would they know, Draco was on a hunt, one that he didn’t intend to rush.

The library was nearly vacant as it was the start of the weekend. Only a few dedicated Ravenclaws still lurked amongst the books-

Well, them, and a certain Gryffindor.

Rounding into the Restricted section, the determined Slytherin grinned as he caught sight of his curly-haired target. Fingering his wand, Draco subtly cast Silencio along with a few clever concealment spells should anyone else come wandering by.

Granger tensed and whirled around. Excitement briefly flashed across her face before she schooled her expression into an impressive sneer. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

Smirk still firmly in place, Draco shrugged. “The library is open to everyone, Granger. Maybe I’m here to learn, as I’m sure you are.”

Granger scoffed. “Oh, please. I know you’re not that dedicated to your studies. If you were, then maybe you’d actually be something of a challenge for me.”

At that, Draco let his smirk morph into a scowl. “You think you’re so much better than me, eh, Granger? Think you know everything there is to know? Think that no one in the whole bloody world could possibly measure up to the High and Mighty Gryffindor Queen, is that it?”

The witch sniffed haughtily. “Well, I don’t beg my daddy to buy my marks, so-”

In a flash, the Slytherin’s wand was up, and without a word, Hermione’s flew out of her pocket and into his hand.

Stunned, her face contorted in rage. “Did – did you just steal my wand!?”

In response, Draco twirled her vine wood in his nimble fingers mockingly. “Wasn’t too hard at all. So much for being the best at everything, huh?”

Wild hair crackling with anger, Granger stomped towards him and grabbed for her wand. Draco easily held it out of her reach. “Give that back!” she demanded.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replied, slipping her wand into his pocket.

Draco could practically see the steam coming out of her nostrils as she glared at him. “Slippery little – I should report you-” Granger ranted, attempting to retrieve her stolen wand.

The smirking Slytherin grabbed her wrist. “Careful, Granger,” he drawled, voice growing slightly husky. “I wouldn’t make any reckless grabs at that area, otherwise you might find yourself handling a very different wand.”

The Gryffindor scowled. “You’re bloody disgusting, Malfoy, now give me my wand back, or I’ll-”

In the blink of an eye, Draco spun her smaller form right into a bookshelf, which shuddered beneath the force of their combined weight. An adorable little gasp escaped Hermione’s pink lips, her pupils dilating with arousal. Draco bit his lip as he felt his erection twitch, having been hard since he’d spotted her. For a moment, he thought she might drop the act and demand that he fuck her right there.

Honestly, he wouldn’t protest for even a moment.

However, his saucy little witch held fast, struggling against his hold. Taking her que, the Slytherin pasted on his best wicked sneer. “You’ll what, Granger? Tell a teacher? Shout for help? Go on, I’ve already silenced this whole area.” He heard her breath hitch as she squeezed her thighs together. Allowing his eyes to rove lasciviously over Granger’s form, Draco chuckled lowly. “You know, if I didn’t know any better…I’d say that you liked this.”

Hermione shook her head a little too enthusiastically. “As if I’d want to be touched by a slimy bastard like you!”

Humming thoughtfully, Draco maneuvered one hand to her neck, caressing the muscles and tendons beneath her golden skin. The other he dragged teasingly down her body, watching her eyes grow larger and larger as he approached her core.

He paused just a moment, in case she needed to safe word; but when it didn’t come, Draco flipped her skirt up. Granger chewed her bottom lip in the way she always did when trying to bite back a moan. He saw the struggle in her eyes as she tried to keep up her unwilling façade, causing a rush of power and lust to flood his brain.

“If that’s true, Granger,” he rasped, stroking her over her knickers. “Then why is your pussy so fucking wet?”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered as she gripped the shelves behind her. “Sod off,” she said, breathless. Draco chuckled and slipped his hand into her knickers. Her throat vibrated under his hand as a soft whimper escaped.

“Is this what all that flaunting and showboating is about?” The Slytherin hissed mockingly as he rubbed her clit in furious circles. “Does the famous Gryffindor swot want to be put in her place with a nice, thick pureblood cock? Your poor little cunt needs some attention so badly, you’ll do anything to get it?”

He slipped a finger inside her, and Granger’s knees wobbled. “You-!” she rasped, panting as his grasp tightened around her neck. “You are a horrid – f-foul, disgusting, loa-loathsome – ohh fuuuck!”

Draco grinned viciously as her walls spasmed around him, a rush of hot fluids soaking his digits. Hermione slumped against the bookshelf, panting in the aftermath of her orgasm.

Removing his hand from her ruined knickers, he took advantage of her parted lips and shoved his coated fingers in between them. Granger squeaked in outrage and brought her foot down on one of his imported leather oxfords. Draco winced, mentally applauding her dedication to the game, but didn’t loosen his hold on her. “Well, that wasn’t very nice, now was it?” he scolded through gritted teeth. “Don’t you know it’s common courtesy that you return the favor when someone gets you off, Granger?”

Without warning, he grabbed her wild mass of hair and forced the Gryffindor down to her knees. She cringed as he hustled her by her curls, but the sound that escaped her was more needy than pained. The sound went right to Draco’s aching cock.

Fuck, he loved how bloody adventurous his witch was, how she let him manhandle her and always gave as good as she got.

Yanking Hermione’s head up, the Slytherin skillfully undid his belt one-handed, watching her hungry eyes widen. She half-heartedly struggled against his hold as he took himself out, his cock flushed red and dripping with precum.

Draco raised an expectant brow. “Well, Granger?”

Tearing her gaze from his length, Hermione twisted her lovely features into a look of disgust. “As if I’d ever put my mouth anywhere near you, filthy Slytherin bastard!”

Though he sneered on the outside, Draco was mentally grinning with excitement. Her continued defiance, that heated, mischievous glint in her eye…she wanted it rough, as rough as he was comfortable giving her. Well, never let it be said that Draco Malfoy denied his witch her wishes.

Grabbing his cock, Draco brought it forcefully to her mouth. Granger stubbornly pursed her lips, eyes squeezing shut when he instead began rubbing himself all over her face.

He chuckled as she attempted to squirm away from him. “What’s the matter, Granger? Never seen a real cock before?” When she peeled open her eyes to glare at him, Draco pulled back and smacked her cheek; not too hard, but enough to make her head jerk and pull a startled gasp from her lips. Grabbing her jaw to keep her mouth open, he promptly shoved his cock inside as far as it could go.

Hermione’s eyes bulged as she gagged, hands flying up to frantically still his hips. Draco smirked down at her, one hand holding her hair and the other her face. “Watch your teeth, swot. Or I’ll tie you up and fuck your mouth all over again after this.”

Slowly releasing her jaw, he caressed her reddening cheek and tapped it twice. Relaxing, Granger exhaled through her nose and nodded in understanding.

With that, Draco slid both hands into her hair and, with a wink, began to fuck her sweet little mouth in earnest.

Hermione’s eyes watered quickly, forehead contorting as she struggled to take him. The blond moaned when she laved her tongue against the tip, his skilled Gryffindor always finding ways to undo him even when he was in complete control.

“That’s it, that’s it you little slag. Ngh…finally putting this swotty mouth to some good use!” Draco taunted breathlessly, fighting to keep up the douchey fuck boy façade through the haze of pleasure. “You like the taste of pureblood cock, Granger? Like the way it fills up your hot little mouth so well?”

Hermione whimpered, squeezing her thighs together even as he continued to thrust mercilessly into her throat.

The blond felt completion creeping up on him a bit too quickly – he’d never been able to last long when at the mercy of her perfect mouth – so Draco slowed his hips, easing his hold on her hair. “Yeah, I know you like it, don’t you, Granger? You act so high and mighty, so bloody perfect all the time, when you’re really just a filthy little whore underneath, aren’t you?”

His witch was moving her head all on her own now, sucking him dutifully with lidded, desperate eyes, even as tears ran down her cheeks. Draco momentarily lost his train of thought when she swirled her tongue just so, a pleased groan tearing from his throat.

Stilling her head with both hands, he released his cock from her talented mouth, stomach swooping pleasantly at the sight of her panting, swollen lips. Hermione blinked rapidly, eyes wide and wet as she gazed up at him expectantly. Truthfully, he wanted to kiss her more than anything, but that wasn’t part of this scene.

Instead, Draco smirked and said, “I think I’ll have a go at your pussy too, while I’m at it. See if this cock fills up that hole just as well.”

Granger gasped as he hauled her to her feet. “B-But, you said if I sucked it, you wouldn’t-”

“I said I wouldn’t fuck your annoying little mouth again. I didn’t say anything about your cunt.” The wicked Slytherin smiled, rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip. “Now turn around and bend over.”

Her eyelids fluttered, desire and defiance warring in her expression. “No.”

Growling, Draco seized her upper arms and spun her brusquely so she was facing the bookshelf. Hermione whimpered wantonly, hips jutting out as he shoved her skirt up and ripped her knickers with a harsh tug.

Chuckling cruelly, the blond spanked her bare cunt, making her yelp. “So fucking stubborn, for someone whose pussy is dripping onto the carpet. How the mighty have fallen, eh Granger?” The needy Gryffindor panted as he stuffed a few fingers inside her to ensure she was ready to take him. No matter how depraved or rough their scenes got, Draco refused to hurt her in that way.

Satisfied with how easily she stretched to accommodate him, the Malfoy heir rubbed his cock teasingly through her folds. “Why don’t you cut the shite and be honest. You want this, don’t you, you needy little slag?” Hermione shivered as he hissed the words into her ear. “You want to be fucked like a bitch by the same ‘Slytherin bastard’ you’re always trying to humiliate. Want your tight, swotty pussy to be filled over and over and over again by this cock. Right, Granger?”

Despite her rutting hips, Hermione stubbornly shook her head. Chuckling, Draco positioned his length at her entrance and began to push in. He held her hips still, feeling as she went rigid, watched her knuckles turn white as she gripped the shelves for dear life. She’d gone completely silent, limps shaking with anticipation as he eased the tip inside her hungry walls-

Then pulled out.

Granger nearly sobbed with disappointment, thrusting back against him desperately.

Grinning victoriously, Draco yanked her head back by her hair, meeting her debauched gaze. “I knew it. You want it. Want it more than anything, don’t you?”

The little witch pursed her lips, not meeting his eyes. Then, her head jerked in the slightest of nods.

He hummed with pleasure, moving her hair over her shoulder. “Say it, then. Beg me.”

Hermione whined, pressing her arse against him.

“Nu-uh,” Draco scolded, smacking her rear. “Good girls ask for what they want. I thought you were a good girl, always kissing up to the teachers and following every rule.” She groaned in protest, resting her cheek against the shelf as she stared at him pleadingly. He merely smirked in response. “Beg for it. Say, ‘please fuck my swotty little pussy,’ and I’ll give it to you.”

Granger turned away, hiding her expression.

She whimpered. Took a deep breath. Then-

“P-Please,” she began, her voice raspy from the blowjob.

Draco dug his fingers into the flesh of her arse. “Please what?”

She released a sound somewhere between a growl and a whine. “Please…fuck my sw…swotty little…p-pussy.”

The blond cackled, feeling devious. “What was that, Granger? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Hermione groaned. “Please fuck my swotty little pussy,” she repeated, slightly louder this time.

Draco spanked her again, and she cried out with need. “One more time, slag. Just to be sure we understand each other.”

Finally, she turned, pinning him with a heated glare. “Please fuck my swotty little pussy!”

With little resistance, he slammed into her hot, wanting walls. Granger’s mouth opened in a heated cry as he bottomed out. Draco swore breathlessly, her cunt squeezing him like a vice as he fucked into her with fervor. “S-Sweet Circe, Granger…ngh! Who’d have thought an uppity bitch like you’d have such a fucking heavenly pussy?”

Hermione’s only response was a gasp when he angled himself to hit that sweet little bundle of nerves inside her. “Fuuuck yeah…clench for me, love,” the blond moaned.

“Gods, Draco!” The cry that left her seemed to echo.

Thinking quickly, Draco wound an arm around her waist and brought his free hand up to cover her mouth. “Shut it, Granger. We’re in a library, you know.”

Sure, he’d silenced and charmed the area so they had no real chance of being caught, but the idea of it was thrilling none the less.

Hermione’s walls tightened around him, drawing a shuddering groan from the Slytherin. “Like it when I cover your mouth, eh? How much more depraved can you get, Granger?” Draco emphasized his words with a forceful thrust, and she moaned into his hand.

It was good, filthy, satisfying…but something was missing.

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” He withdrew without warning, watching his witch’s cunt pulse longingly at his absence. Granger looked back at him, eyes glazed with bleary confusion.

Offering no explanation, Draco simply turned her back around and hoisted her up by the arse, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Smirking, he pushed his cock back into her, and a choked, needy gasp escaped the Gryffindor. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you, Granger,” he whispered, rolling his hips into hers almost leisurely. He’d been too close to coming earlier, and wasn’t quite ready for this to end. “When you look back on this, I want you to remember exactly who it is that gave you the best shag of your life, understand?”

Hermione scowled at him. “I despise you, Malfoy!”

Draco chuckled, snapping his hips faster. “Feeling’s fucking mutual, Granger. Now be a good little muggleborn and come on my cock.”

The witch’s head made a thunk as it hit the shelves behind it, her nails digging into his shoulder and yanking at his hair. “Fuck you, Malfoy…oh gods, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you – NGH YES, yes, yes, Merlin, yes!”

Moaning long and low as her walls squeezed his length, Draco kneaded Hermione’s breast through her clothes, swearing when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her school shirt. Cheeky little minx.

Granger had all but gone slack in his hold, eyes closed in bliss as he pounded into her. “Gonna come, Granger,” the Slytherin panted. “Gonna pour all my pureblood seed into your tight little-”

“AH-CHOO!”

The pair froze like a deer caught in headlights. Hermione’s hands flew to his shoulders, eyes widening with panic. Draco however, had to bite back a groan as she suddenly clamped down around him. With much difficulty, he pulled out of her, but to his surprise, she looked more disappointed than relieved. He arched a questioning brow, and she bit her lip and flushed. Realization washed over him as he slowly smirked.

Ah. Granger liked the thought of being caught, did she? Gods, just when he thought she couldn’t possibly get any kinkier. Or amazing.

One of the books on the shelf behind them – the same shelf he’d just been brutally fucking her against – was suddenly removed from its place, revealing the movement of a person behind it. Draco’s heart jumped for a brief moment, before remembering that their actual chances of getting caught were next to nothing with all the wards he’d put up. Even if whoever was behind there peeked through the gap in the shelf, they wouldn’t be able to see them.

But…that didn’t mean Draco couldn’t take advantage of this situation and have a little extra fun.

Hermione, who’d been studying him unsurely, squeaked when he lifted her up again. But this time, rather than pin her to the bookshelf, the blond walked them both to a nearby table and plopped down in a chair, settling his witch so her back was to his chest.

“D-Draco, what are you-” the Gryffindor began warily, but was cut off when he covered her mouth with his large hand.

“Shut your swotty mouth, Granger. You don’t want to be caught in such a scandalous position with me, now do you?” Draco gestured to the gap in the shelf, where the slight shape of a person still lingered. As understanding washed over her, Hermione whimpered softly and wriggled on his lap. Pulling her skirt up, the Slytherin caressed her thigh teasingly. “What would they say, do you think? If they saw prissy, know-it-all bookworm Hermione Granger writhing on the cock of the Slytherin prince right here in public?”

Draco reached between them and rubbed his cock between her slick folds. She immediately began grinding down on him. Laving his tongue against her ear, he rasped, “Your precious, golden reputation would be ruined in a heartbeat. Within days, everyone in Hogwarts would know that you’re nothing but a cock hungry whore, a filthy little cumslut underneath that prim and proper façade.” Moaning into his hand, Hermione arched against him so that his cock caught against her entrance.

“Look at you,” Draco sneered. “Already came twice, yet you still want more. This wet, greedy pussy just can’t get enough, can it?” He spanked her clit for emphasis, and with a high-pitched whine, she slid down, taking him all in one fell swoop. Granger immediately started rocking against him, groping her tits through her shirt.

Before he could get lost in her hot, velvety cunt, Draco heard the intruder cough on the other side of the shelf.

A positively evil idea formed in his head.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, stilling her hips. Hermione eyed him incredulously from over her shoulder. When she wriggled in protest, the Slytherin tightly wrapped his free arm around her. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growled. The sound that escaped her throat was somewhere between a whimper and a snarl, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Draco chuckled and licked a stripe up her neck. “You’re going to sit here, stuffed full of my cock like the good little slag that you are until our friend over there leaves, understand?”

Hermione made a noise of dissent, attempting to squirm out of his hold. The blond bit down on her throat as punishment. When the Gryffindor gave a muffled cry, he delivered a light smack to her cheek. “Shut the fuck up.”

Her eyes turned pleading. Softening just a little, Draco tapped her thigh twice.

Granger hesitated, thinking it over; then, she smiled and tapped his arm once.

Keep going. Don’t stop.

He smiled back at her, kissing the mark on her neck. When the blond drew back, his eyes were steely and heated. “Sit still and stay fucking quiet,” Draco hissed, covering her mouth again. “If you do, I might feel inclined to give you something nice.” Hermione glared at him challengingly. “If you can’t even do that…” he whispered, inching his fingers towards her throbbing center. “Then I’ll come all over your pretty face and leave you wanting. Understand?”

The Gryffindor continued to scowl, eyes flitting to the bookshelf that hid the intruder. Both could still hear the person mumbling to themselves as they continued to remove and replace books on the shelves.

Forcing himself to breathe steadily, Draco massaged his witch’s thigh as she slowly relaxed against him. “Good girl,” he breathed, only to slightly regret it when Granger tightened around him.

Fuck. Maybe he should have thought this through a bit more. Oh well, too late to back out now.

Sitting completely still with his cock encased inside Hermione, feeling her glorious cunt squeeze and caress him everywhere, yet unable to seek out that delicious friction they both craved, was the most exquisite of torture, Draco soon discovered. He had to resort to reciting Quidditch stats in his head to tamp down on the urge to thrust up into her. Thankfully, the Slytherin was able to take solace in the fact that she was just as affected as he was.

Hermione was panting so much that his hand had grown moist from her breath, her nipples so hard he could see them through her shirt. Being the diabolical Slytherin that he was, Draco decided to be a little bit mean. He blew gently against her ear, causing a full shudder to race down the Gryffindor’s spine. Then he rolled a nipple between his fingers, watching her face contort with pleasure.

Granger’s skin prickled beneath his fingers as he inched them up the inside of her thigh. Her cunt was rhythmically pulsing around Draco’s cock, practically quivering with need and anticipation as his digits ghosted up her quim.

When he flicked her clit, she groaned sharply. “Shhh,” he hissed, nipping her earlobe. Hermione glared back at him, but he only chuckled at her ire. The indignation in her eyes quickly melted into agonizing pleasure as Draco rubbed her clit in slow, tight circles. The Gryffindor squirmed in his lap, trying to escape, but he clutched her jaw and growled, “Do I need to tie you up, Granger? Stay fucking still!”

She whimpered, shaking her head erratically. The cruel Slytherin bit down on her neck almost hard enough to break skin, making the witch hiss in pain. “You’re going to sit and warm my fucking cock while you take my fingers, and you’re going to bloody like it, understand?”

Whining softly, Granger finally ceased fighting. Draco licked at the fresh mark on her neck soothingly before delivering the final blow. “And just because you decided to be a disobedient brat-” he rumbled, swatting her pussy, “-you’re not going to come. Not until I say so.”

Something resembling a sob tore from her throat, but the Slytherin paid her no heed as he sped up his ministrations on her swollen clit. Hermione arched against him, legs shaking as she tried to suppress her orgasm. Draco could tell she was close, a sense of male pride and triumph rising in his chest at having so thoroughly undone her.

He’d been a bit skeptical when his daring witch had initially pitched this idea, having left the whole blood-superiority-obsessed-bully thing behind him years ago, but Merlin, was he glad he’d let her talk him into it. This was one of the hottest things they’d ever done to date!

A sigh that came from neither of them echoed from the other side of the bookshelf, drawing Draco’s attention just long enough to hear their visitor walk off.

Finally, the blond thought with a groan of relief. For all his alpha-like showboating, he wasn’t sure he could take much more of her magnificent walls teasing the hell out of his cock. Unlike Hermione, Draco had yet to come in this scene, and his balls were practically burning alive with the need to relieve themselves into her hot, pulsing quim.

With a murmured, “Sod this,” the Slytherin grabbed his witch’s hips and lifted her off his cock before slamming back home with a loud grunt.

Granger all but screamed, frantically grasping his knees for purchase as he drilled into her. Draco fisted her curls, wrenching her head back to meet his gaze. “Fuck yeah…you like that, don’t you, you dirty little whore? Love this big pureblood cock messing you up so fucking well?” Hermione cried out and nodded frantically, all illusions of rebellion having been well and truly fucked out of her. “That’s right, you do!” Draco panted, his hand coming down hard on her arse.

“Gods…Merlin, please!” she gasped out.

“Please? Please what?”

“I – oh my god – I wanna come! Please, fuck, please Malfoy, let me come!”

The blond pretended to think it over while he pinched his thigh in a desperate attempt to hang on for just a few moments longer. “Tell me you love it. Tell me – ngh, fuck – tell the whole fucking school how you’re a filthy slut that loves pureblood cock, and you can come.”

Hermione whined long and low, her muscles clenching longingly around him.

“Go on, say it! Say it, you little slag!” Draco commanded.

“I’m – I’m a filthy slut who loves pureblood cock!” sobbed the Gryffindor.

He laughed breathlessly. “Bloody right, you are! Now come!”

Hermione shattered around him so hard that she nearly slid off his lap, her broken cries shaking the windows. Draco held her to him as he clumsily snapped his hips up into her one, two, three more times, then gave a strained shout as he came harder than he could ever remember.

A hush fell over their little bubble as they both caught their breath. Hermione trembled with aftershocks, her body tipping precariously.

“Easy there,” Draco murmured softly, gathering her shaking form into his arms. His softening shaft slipped out of her as he gently arranged her to sit across his lap, his pale fingers running soothingly through the stinging roots of her hair.

As the fog of post-orgasm stupor lifted, Hermione grinned brightly. “Oh my god, Draco, that was amazing!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You were so hot, I loved it! Stealing my wand was a very nice touch, I was actually mad at you for a moment there.”

Draco laughed, stroking his thumb across her reddened cheek. “Were you now? I couldn’t tell.” She rolled her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.

Kissing the top of her head, the Slytherin took a moment to trace the marks on her neck and the inflamed flesh on her arse. “Everything feel alright?” he affirmed.

She shrugged. “It stings of course, but nothing too bad. Don’t worry, I would have told you if something was too much.”

Draco huffed and tweaked her nose playfully. “I know, but it’s only proper etiquette to check in with your partner after a scene.”

Hermione hummed in agreement, peeking up at him with a smirk. “What about you? Did you enjoy yourself?”

His head thumped against the back of the chair. “Fuck.”

She practically giggled with glee. “You really liked it, then! I’m glad.” Draco smiled wryly, not even attempting to deny it.

She kissed his cheek, then fixed him with a mildly serious look. “And you were okay, acting like that? I couldn’t really tell if it was bothering you at all, and I know you were a bit hesitant at first…”

The Slytherin thought for a moment. “Did anything I say hurt or offend you at all?”

Hermione blinked and shook her head.

He gave a small smile. “Then no, I’m alright. As long as you get enjoyment out of it, I’ll gladly act like a fucking knob any time.”

She chuckled. “Oh I definitely enjoyed it. The way you shoved me into the shelf and kept forcing me to admit how good you were making me feel…”

Her lashes fluttered, and he could practically see her reliving the memory. “Glad I could make you come so hard by being such a wanker,” Draco snarked.

Hermione scoffed, swatting his chest. “You liked it, and you know it.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” he chuckled. “By any chance, did this little scenario you came up with for us come from one of those muggle romance novels you swear you don’t read?”

Granger squawked in offense. “Oh, so what if it did! We both liked it, didn’t we?”

Draco snickered, bumping his nose against hers. “You little nerd.”

“You’re one to talk about being a nerd!”

“You’re a bushy-haired-”

“Oh please, that one is like seven years old-”

“Brown-nosing-”

“I do not brown nose-!”

“Little swot,” he finished with a grin.

Hermione peered at him. “Well, you are an impossible, big-headed, slippery-”

“Yes, yes, I’m the worst. Come here.” Draco cut off her impending rant with a kiss, slotting his lips against hers tenderly. She huffed in the back of her throat, but ultimately leaned into him. Sighing into her mouth, the Slytherin caressed his witch’s back as he mentally decompressed and came back to himself.

When they parted, she graced him with a mischievous smile. “So…how would you feel about doing this again…in reverse?”

Chapter Text

A sharp yelp echoed through the corridor as Hermione’s legs gave out beneath the force of a tripping jinx. The surrounding students scattered as her bag crashed to the floor, a flood of books, quills, and loose papers erupting from it. A jeering laughter followed the display.

Hermione whipped around, fiery glare fixed on the blond menace holding his wand aloft.

Draco met her murderous glance with a cocky, shit-eating grin. “What’s wrong, Granger? Has the rat’s nest on your head grown so heavy that you can’t even walk properly?”

“You’d better sod off right now if you know what’s good for you, Malfoy!” Hermione snapped, casting a quick spell to clean up the mess on the floor.

“Oh no, someone help, the spindly little bookworm is going to get me! I’m so scared!” Draco mocked.

Enraged, Hermione’s curls crackled as she stormed up to the arrogant Slytherin. “Haven’t you gotten tired of these silly little games yet, you big-headed twit? I mean really, tripping me in the hallway? Are you still a second year?”

“Ha! You’re one to talk, Granger. I’m not the one that’s yet to grow into my tits.”

The temperature suddenly seemed to drop a few degrees. “Oh?” Hermione drawled. “Insulting my appearance now, are we? How very predictable of you, Malfoy. And here I thought maybe you’d finally come up with something new after all these years!”

The surrounding observers slowly backed away from the squabbling couple as the air filled with tense magic.

“Though I can’t really say I’m surprised,” Hermione continued, feigning nonchalance. “After all, you’ve still yet to beat me once in marks, so you can’t exactly insult me in that area, can you?”

Draco’s smirk dropped, eyes glinting with frosty anger. “Watch it, you little hag-”

“You know,” the Gryffindor interrupted. “With the many, many times you’ve insulted my appearance, I’m starting to wonder just how much time you’ve spent looking at me to spot all my apparent flaws. Why, perhaps you’re even secretly attracted to me and are too ashamed to admit it!”

Draco’s wand flew up threateningly, but Hermione was quick to meet him. “Me? Attracted to a buck-toothed prude like you?” Draco growled through gritted teeth. “You sure you’re not subconsciously projecting your own secret desires, Granger?”

“I’m serious, Malfoy!” Hermione barked. “You think that because you’re some rich, pureblooded fob, you can do whatever you want with no consequences. Well I promise you, that is not that case!”

“Oh really?” Draco challenged with a smirk. “Well, I certainly don’t see you doing anything about it, Granger.”

Their wands were practically at each other’s throats, their noses mere inches apart. Hermione’s gaze darted briefly down to his lips, a silent question in her eyes. “I could do something about it.” Her voice came out huskier than intended as the proposition in disguise slipped out.

Draco swallowed, mouth parting. “I’d like to see you fucking try, Granger.”

A cloaked acceptance, and Hermione’s blood sang.

She abruptly stepped back and pocketed her wand. “Watch your back, Malfoy.”

With that dark warning, the Gryffindor turned on her heel and strut away, pretending she couldn’t feel her secret lover’s gaze on her arse.

Oh, he was going to get it.

Later that night, Hermione pinned on her Prefect badge and made some excuse to her friends before exiting the tower. Roaming through the halls, it didn’t take long to find him.

Her heartbeat quickened and arousal rushed through her belly.

Draco’s back was turned as he strolled down the hall with his hands in his pockets, the perfect picture of an unassuming prick who’d never once had his arse handed to him.

Well, that was about to change.

“Expelliarmus!”

The Slytherin’s wand flew into her hand instantly. Draco whirled around, visibly enraged. “What the hell, Gr-”

“Silencio! Incarcerous!”

Hermione marched up to the now helpless blond, a sick thrill rushing through her at the spark of fear in his eyes. However, that thrill was nothing compared to the excitement she felt upon noticing the arousal straining his trousers.

Leaving it alone for now, Hermione smirked up at Draco. “Not such a spindly little bookworm now, am I, Malfoy?”

The Slytherin glared down at her frostily, mouth moving but no sound coming out as he tugged at the magical bonds constraining his wrists behind his back.

The Gryffindor toyed with Draco’s wand as she shamelessly ogled him, brain rushing with delicious and nefarious plans. Stuffing both wands in her pocket, Hermione eyed her lover through her lashes as she grabbed his tie and yanked him down. Draco’s pupils expanded as he huffed a surprised breath against her face. “I think it’s time you and I had a little talk, don’t you, Malfoy?”

With that, the witch tugged her captive into an empty classroom, ignoring his struggles to escape. After sliding the door shut, she expertly threw up a few wards just in case Filch or Mrs. Norris came meandering by. Draco continued to pull at his bonds as he swore silently; Hermione knew he could free himself if he truly needed to, she would never leave him completely vulnerable, but it was exhilarating none the less to have him at her mercy.

"Sorry Malfoy, were you saying something? I’m afraid I can’t hear you,” Hermione mocked as she shrugged off her robe. Draco merely glared, though she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her movements. With a coy smile, the cunning witch sashayed up to her victim. “I must say, silence suits you, Malfoy. It’s too bad I can’t keep you like this all the time. I might even find you attractive.” Draco’s nostrils flared, causing her to chuckle. “However, as much as I like you quiet, what I have in store for you won’t be nearly as fun if I can’t hear you, so I’m going to remove the spell. Don’t bother calling for help though, I’ve already silenced the room”

With a flick of her wand, the silencing spell lifted. Immediately, the Slytherin towered over her, growling threateningly. “Release me right now, you little bitch! Or else I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Hermione countered, looking quite unimpressed at his attempt at intimidation. “Your father will hear about this? Grow up, you immature little sod. You’ve been using that one since we were eleven.”

She pressed herself against Draco without warning, causing the blond’s breath to hitch. “W-What do you think you’re doing!?” he stammered, trying to back away.

Hermione didn’t let him, reaching up to grab his collar as she pulled him so his face was level with hers. “Well guess what, you bastard,” she hissed, “daddy’s not here to save you this time. And by the time I’m through with you, you’re going to pray he never finds out!”

With that, Hermione surged forward, biting into the Slytherin’s bottom lip. Draco yelped, stumbling backwards so that his thighs hit the professor’s desk. “What the fu-!”

The witch took advantage of his shock to shove him down, where his back met the top of the long desk with a thump. Heart racing, Hermione climbed atop her prey so that she was straddling his hips. “Get the fuck off me!” Draco demanded, kicking his legs out.

Chuckling at his rather pathetic attempts to dismount her – they both knew he could easily buck her off if he truly wanted to – the Gryffindor reached down and tore open his shirt.

Draco’s breath stuttered as his shirt buttons clattered all over the classroom floor, nipples hardening in the cold air. Hermione felt her core clench as her lover bit his lip and looked up at her, desire and anger warring in his expression. She wanted to kiss him so badly, impale herself on his cock and ride him until he begged her to stop-

But no, not now. They had a different fantasy to fulfill.

“My, is this what you’ve been hiding all this time, Malfoy? No wonder those dull Slytherin tarts are always throwing themselves at you,” Hermione commented as she tweaked a nipple.

Draco swallowed. “Y-You fucking slag! Get your filthy hands off me!”

“Hmm, you’re right. There’s a far more efficient way to go about this.” Smirking, Hermione pulled out her wand and vanished every scrap of clothing from the wizard’s body. A strange choking sound tore from Draco’s throat.

The witch bit her lip as her hungry eyes devoured his pale form. “Why, Malfoy,” she breathed, walking her fingers up his hardened length. “It looks like you want something.”

Draco’s ears flushed as his cock twitched. “Y-You stupid bint, that’s not – fuck!”

Hermione wrapped her nimble fingers around him and gave a sharp tug.

Draco writhed beneath her, back arched and face twisted into an expression of pleasure-pain. “O-Oh – oh gods! S-Stop…f-fuck – don’t fucking touch me with your filthy, perverted little – ahhh…”

The wicked witch fondled his balls as she continued stroking him, the flesh warm and heavy in her hand. “That moan was almost cute, Malfoy. If I’d known this was all it took to bring you down, I’d have tied you up years ago,” Hermione commented without pausing.

Draco managed to scowl at her through his heaving pants. “Fuck you! I am not-”

“I’d be careful how I speak to the one literally holding the future of the Malfoy line in her hand.” Hermione squeezed his sac threateningly for emphasis, making a rather interesting noise exit his mouth.

“Fuuuck…” Draco whimpered.

She slowed her hand as precum began to leak from his cock. Gliding her free hang along his hip, the Gryffindor tapped him twice. After a few moments, the wizard’s erratic breaths steadied, and he gave her a firm nod. Smiling, Hermione gathered his spend and rubbed it teasingly between her fingers. “You know, for all your huffing and puffing, you sure do seem to like my filthy, perverted little hands all over you.”

Draco tensed, resuming his futile struggling. “That’s just – a natural response! It’s got nothing to do with you!”

Hermione hummed disbelievingly. “Oh, but Malfoy-” she rubbed his seed over his nipple, “-you’ve always gone on and on about how hideous and appalling I am. When we were younger, you’d even Scourgify yourself if you and I so much as brushed arms in the hallway. Really, it should be a shock that you can even get it up in my presence, right? Unless-”

Without warning, Hermione tightened her grip on his nipple and twisted.

Draco gasped, throwing his head back with a pinched expression.

“Unless you’ve been lying this whole time. Unless you’ve secretly fancied me all these years, and just couldn’t handle it because I’m a muggleborn.” Hermione leaned down and laved her tongue soothingly against the swollen bud, moaning at the taste of his spend.

She felt Draco’s cock twitch against her thigh, his hips reflexively bucking up. His eyes widened as she smirked sinfully. “I-I didn’t mean to do that!” he sputtered.

“Of course you didn’t,” Hermione agreed condescendingly. “Just like you didn’t mean to be horribly attracted to me. Must have been terribly confusing for you, eh Malfoy?” The Gryffindor steadily began to pump him again.

“What was it like, constantly getting a hard on for the muggleborn that always beat you in marks? Was it humiliating? Did you feel ashamed every time you tossed off to thoughts of me? Did thoughts of what your parents and fellow purebloods would say if they knew how badly you wanted me haunt you? Or did that only turn you on more?”

Draco’s chest was heaving with erratic pants as she threw every last whispered confession he’d shared with her at him. Perhaps it was unfair, using them against him like this, but the dark, nearly desperate look in his eye told her that he was enjoying it just as much as she was, so Hermione didn’t feel too bad about it.

“Y-You’re – oh gods – you’re fucking barmy!”

“Oh really?” The witch stroked along a vein in his cock, and the Slytherin’s whole body shuddered. She could tell he was getting close. “If I’m wrong, then why are you thrusting into my hand right now?”

Draco’s blown eyes went wide and he abruptly stilled. “I’m not – I wasn’t!”

Hermione smirked. “Liar.”

Then she bit down on his shoulder and avidly sucked a mark into his pale skin. As the wizard choked back a moan, Hermione made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and wrapped them around the tip of his cock. Nipping her way up his neck, she paused to suck at his earlobe. “Continue,” she whispered.

Sucking in a breath through is teeth, Draco shook his head. “Fuck you.”

Hermione chuckled. “You’re the one who’s not going to get fucked if you don’t obey.” Sitting up, the witch ran her nails down his chest and stomach, leaving goosebumps in her wake. “Come on, Malfoy. Don’t be lazy. Why don’t you work for it, like the needy little slag you are?”

Draco squirmed, glaring daggers at her. “Sod off, hag!”

Hermione stilled him. “Call me whatever you like, it won’t get you what you want. Now be a good boy and fuck my fingers.”

“Go to hell, you little-”

The blond’s bitter words were abruptly cut off when his captor wrapped her dexterous fingers around his throat. A hint of fear seeped into his eyes as she slinked down his body, looking more like a snake than a lion. Draco trembled as Hermione peered at him with dark, sultry eyes, her mouth agonizingly close to his cock.

“Go on,” she hissed, “say it. Call me that foul word. It won’t stop me from doing this-”

Then, her hot tongue was caressing the tip of Draco’s pulsing length. His eyes fell to the back of his head, stomach and thighs tensing. Hermione hummed patronizingly. “How’s it feel to have my filthy mouth on your cock, Malfoy?” Tightening her grip on his throat, the Gryffindor sucked him fully into her mouth.

Relaxing her jaw, she eased herself down until her nose was buried in the soft, blond curls. Hermione held herself there as long as she could, feeling her victim’s throat contract beneath her hand as he whimpered and groaned.

Breathing out through her nose, the witch sucked hard as she rose up.

“Gods!” Draco keened.

Hermione released him with a wet pop, licking the flavor of him off her lips. Her lover looked positively debauched below her, his poor lower lip mauled by his teeth and a red flush down his chest.

Fuck, she was wet.

“Aww,” said the brunette with false sympathy. “You’re close, aren’t you, Malfoy? Poor love. You need to come so badly, don’t you?”

Draco’s clouded eyes flickered up to her, the fight nearly gone from them. “F-Fuck you.”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Well, if that’s how you feel…”

She moved to get off the desk, and Malfoy’s eyes widened with panic. “Wait!”

Pausing, the witch arched an inquiring brow. Chest stuttering, Draco licked his bruised lips, forehead wrinkling with shame and desire. “M-More.”

Cupping his cheek, Hermione forced him to face her. “I couldn’t hear you. Say that louder, would you?”

When the blond pursed his lips stubbornly, she smacked that same cheek.

Malfoy’s eyes flew open, his cock giving a little jump. “More! I need more,” he gasped.

"Please,” Hermione pressed, reaching promisingly for his erection.

He glared with what was left of his restraint. “Please,” Draco bit out.

She once again wrapped her thumb and forefinger around his tip. “Fuck yourself, you pureblooded prick.”

Groaning, Malfoy obediently thrusted into her fingers. “That’s it, my little slag. Show me how much you need this muggleborn to make you come,” Hermione goaded with a smile. Skin burning with need, she used her free hand to unbutton her shirt and reveal a lacy, baby pink bra; one of Draco’s favorites.

The Slytherin’s eyes darkened when he saw it, hips stuttering.

The witch sighed as she massaged her breasts through her bra. “Still think I haven’t grown into my tits, Malfoy? You sure seem to like looking at them,” she taunted as she pinched her nipple.

“Fu-Fuck you, you filthy little tart!” Draco snapped, though the vitriol in his words was undermined by the desperate cant of his hips.

“Are you close?” asked Hermione, ignoring the insult. The blond only glared at her. Of course, she already knew that he was, but she wanted him to say it. “So stubborn,” the witch crooned. “Maybe I’ll charm your body to the desk and leave you here for a bit while I get myself off, hm?”

Draco’s head thumped on the desk. “No, ungh, fuck – I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You want to come, Malfoy?”

The Slytherin grit his teeth, expression twisted into a cacophony of pleasure-pain. “Yes, I want to fucking come, you fucking-”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Hermione abruptly withdrew her hand, leaving her victim thrusting into nothing but air.

Draco’s gaze whipped towards her, eyes a mixture of rage, desperation, and betrayal. “What the hell!”

Taking out her wand, the Gryffindor pointed it at his throbbing cock and muttered a spell –

One of her favorites, and one of his least favorites.

Malfoy gasped upon feeling the spell constrict around his balls, the cockring holding his dick firm. “You’ve been teasing and taunting me for so long now,” Hermione said conversationally. “I think I want to torture you a bit for once.”

Eyes flaring, Draco thrashed and swore beneath her, and this time, she knew it wasn’t completely an act. “You sodding bitch! I’ll fucking kill you once I get out of this!”

The witch rubbed his thigh soothingly, trying to bite back a smile. Her poor darling. He’s never done well with being denied.

“Color?” she asked softly.

Draco stilled, body slumping back on the desk. “Green,” he grumbled.

Hermione did smile now, breaking character to lean down and kiss him. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised against his lips.

“You’d better,” he mumbled.

Chuckling, she sat back up and stood on the desk, his body between her feet. Draco bit his lip, eyes darting beneath her skirt. “That forked tongue of yours is still going strong, is it?” said the Gryffindor, slipping back into the scene. “Why don’t we put it to some better use?” With some careful maneuvering, Hermione slid her soaked knickers down her legs and tossed them to the floor. She then turned around and knelt so that his head was between her knees. Draco’s darkened eyes were fixed above on her dripping cunt. The witch wiggled her hips teasingly. “What do you say, Malfoy? Are you willing to swallow your precious, pureblood pride and eat me out? If you make me come, I might just return the favor.”

“Fine,” the blond grunted.

Hermione tutted. “Now, that didn’t sound like you want to come. Why don’t you ask me nicely?”

The sound that Draco emitted was somewhere between a whine and a growl.

“Go on, I’m sure even you can be polite if you try. Where are all those pureblood manners that an utter savage such as myself could never possibly comprehend? Come now, beg me to let you lick my cunt.”

Malfoy’s toes curled at her taunts. His hot breath caressed her center, causing a full-body shudder to race up her spine. Temptation to forget the act and ride her lover’s tongue until she saw stars arose, but Hermione held fast.

“Please…please Granger, let me lick your cunt. I want to eat you out,” Draco begged breathlessly.

“Mm…that’s better. Open wide for me.” With that, the Gryffindor finally lowered herself down to sit on his face. “Oh…” she shuddered, the pleasure of his glorious tongue on her aching clit echoing through her whole body. The Slytherin’s smart mouth sucked and lapped at her folds, his nose nudging against her entrance. Hermione moaned as she rocked her hips, planting her hands on his chest.

“There you go, Malfoy. Oh, that’s so good! Fuck, that’s right, lick my filthy, muggleborn cunt!” Draco’s swollen cock twitched as she mocked him. Unable to resist, the witch leaned down to take him in her mouth, the salty taste of his precum filling her senses.

His groan vibrated through her core. “Fuck.”

Hermione chuckled around his girth, laving her tongue against the sensitive underside. “You like it, Malfoy? You like eating this swot’s pussy while she sucks your dick?”

“Yes,” Draco gasped, voice muffled by her cunt.

“Damn right you do,” she goaded, pumping his length faster. “You’ve always taunted me and my friends, acting like you’re better than all of us just because of your blood, your money, your family…well, look at you now, you sodding ferret. Moaning like a right whore beneath the muggleborn witch you’ve never been able to beat at anything. Who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Malfoy nipped at her thigh in retaliation, but redoubled his efforts to bring her over the edge.

“Godric! Yes!” Hermione cried before shoving him back into her mouth.

Their combined grunts and moans filled the classroom, along with lewd slurping and the muted creaking of the desk. Draco’s mouth was a tad clumsier than usual, his focus skewed by her lips around his cock, but it still wasn’t long before she felt orgasm swell in her belly. The witch whimpered around Draco’s cock as she crested, her thighs shaking beside his head. When her pleasure subsided, Hermione drew back to admire the deep scarlet color her lover’s shaft had become, his balls swollen and red from the cockring spell.

“Atta boy, Malfoy,” the brunette praised as she slid off the desk.

The look on Draco’s face was positively wanton; silver eyes glazed over and his agape mouth glistening with her juices. “Now me,” he panted.

Hermione hummed. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you deserve it? Does one favor absolve all of your sins?”

Draco whimpered, his hips jutting up desperately. “Please…gods, I need it, please!”

The sadistic Gryffindor smiled. It seems she’d finally broken him. Mercifully, the witch directed one hand to his spit-soaked cock and began to pump slowly. The other, she slid up to his face and pressed two fingers against his lips. “Suck,” Hermione commanded. Draco obeyed immediately, drawing her fingers into his mouth.

“Good little Slytherin slut,” she crooned. He moaned, not even attempting to hide how the degradation turned him on anymore. Once he’d relaxed a bit, the witch withdrew her fingers from his mouth. Still stroking his cock, she trailed her wet digits down his stomach, his hip bone, his balls, until she reached his puckered hole.

Draco’s breath seized as she circled the tight ring of muscle. “No – Not there!”

Hermione smirked. “Oh? Have none of your little Slytherin girlfriends ever touched you here?”

She eased a finger into his arse before he could answer, making him whimper. “There’s no need to be afraid,” she soothed as she gently searched around for the spot that would drive him crazy. “You might find that you like it.”

Locating his prostate, Hermione caressed the sensitive tissue, and Draco all but squealed.

“Oh – my – GODS!”

He writhed, moaned, and swore as she fingered him, tossing his head back and forth. His now purple cock dripped with precum, which Hermione was all too happy to lick up.

“Fuck, Merlin, fuuuck…please, Granger, please, take the spell off, I’m fucking begging you!” Draco cried out in earnest.

She stilled. “Oh? You, Draco Malfoy, are begging me, a lowly muggleborn?” the witch taunted cruelly.

“Yes, you insufferable swot, I’m begging you, alright!? Nngh, fuck! I don’t care, I don’t bloody care anymore, just let me fucking come!”

Smirking, Hermione drew away. “Very well. But you’re going to come my way.”

“Wha…”

While Draco panted with confusion, his captor once again drew her wand. Then, in a rather impressive display of transfiguration, she turned a nearby empty inkwell into a-

The blond’s stomach swooped.

“Do you know what this is, Malfoy?” They both knew he did, though for the sake of the scene, he said nothing.

Hermione toyed with the small bullet vibrator with a mischievous grin. “This happens to be a nifty little muggle invention meant to induce intense sexual stimulation. This one in particular I charmed to be quite-” The little vibrator buzzed lowly when she turned it on, the sound making Draco tremble. “-Powerful.”

Hermione grazed the bullet up his thighs, and he whimpered almost inaudibly. “You’re either going to come from this, or not at all. Understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Then moan for me. Nice and loud, Malfoy.”

When she pressed the vibrator to his frenulum, Draco’s back bowed.

“Mother – fuck! Sala – AUGH! Her – Hermi – ohhh!”

Trailing the bullet down his shaft, Hermione pressed the tip of her wand to his cock. However, just before breaking the spell, the witch boldly slipped the vibrator beneath his balls and, with the gentlest bit of pressure, rubbed it against the tender patch of skin between his arse and his sac.

Draco’s scream caught her off guard, as did the warm splash of his release when it sprayed onto his stomach, her chest, her face, and even onto the floor. Draco babbled nonsense, legs shaking violently as his cock spurt one, two, three, four times before flagging, his body going utterly limp along with it.

“Oh!” exclaimed Hermione, worried she’d gone too far. Heart racing, the witch cast a flurry of spells in record time; she Scourgified both their bodies and the floor, released him from the Incarcerous, and put a cushioning charm on the desk to make her lover more comfortable.

“Draco? Draco, are you alright?” she fretted.

Draco’s eyes fluttered, but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of “Hrngh” noise.

Brushing his fringe from his forehead, Hermione laid several feathery kisses on his face and lips, hoping to rouse him. “Oh my sweet love, can you hear me? Say something insulting if you can,” the witch sang.

Finally, Draco groaned. “You…fucking…menace.”

“Oh good, there you are,” Hermione breathed with relief.

The Slytherin groaned louder, slowly stretching out. “Bloody hell, how do I always forget what a complete sadist you can be?”

The brunette chuckled, propping herself up on the desk. “I might have been retaliating a bit for what you did to me in the library.”

“I was much nicer to you in the library! And you bloody liked it!” Draco exclaimed.

“So…you didn’t like everything I just did to you?” Hermione asked with a raised brow.

The Slytherin pursed his lips stubbornly.

She laughed gently, his response telling her all she needed to know. “I’m glad. After you came, I was a bit worried it was too much for you. You seemed a touch overwhelmed…”

Draco shrugged, running a hand down his face. “Honestly, I sort of hate how bloody good it was.”

Hermione nodded as she caressed his arm. “Do you need anything?”

He gave a long, thoughtful sigh. “A huge plate of chips and gravy sounds divine.”

She smiled widely and brought his hand to her mouth to kiss his palm. “I think a quick little jaunt to the kitchens can be arranged.” Draco returned her smile, expression wrought with satisfaction as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. Hermione trailed kisses down his wrist and forearm, noticing the red marks and abrasions from the restraints, and made a mental note to grab some bruise paste.

“Sounds wonderful. But first, would you kindly give me my bloody clothes back? I'm not keen on giving the elves an eyeful.”

Chapter Text

The last rays of the sun warmed Hermione’s skin as she stood outside the basement door, fidgeting. “Draco?” she called hesitantly.

A brief shuffling from below was her only answer.

She sighed and looked towards the window, where the light was swiftly fading. In less than an hour, the full moon would be upon them. Were this a normal month, Hermione would be casting wards to keep her husband confined to the basement till morning. Though Draco was only a partial werewolf and thus didn’t transform, the full moon still affected him; the wolf beneath took control, causing heightened aggression and loss of cognitive reasoning.

But this night was different. Tonight…Hermione was going to let him – the wolf – take her.

As husband and wife, sex of course, was quite frequent between them. But since being bitten two years ago, Draco had never once allowed himself near her on the full moon. After his initial turning, where his mind had been buried by the pain and rabid magic twisting and changing him, and he’d accidentally attacked her in the haze, he didn’t trust himself one bit.

Hermione absently stroked the scar on her shoulder and knocked again. “Draco? Darling, please…it’s almost time. Talk to me?”

Something crashed to the floor down below, followed by a series of swears.

The witch rubbed her forehead. Her husband was nervous…scared, even. All week, Draco had been wrought with tension, going back and forth on his decision to go through with this.

But Hermione was done letting him fear himself. She wanted this, she wanted him, every part of him.

And she…they…wanted what would come after. Desperately.

For three years now, they’d been trying to have a child. They’d been wed for six, enjoyed having each other to themselves and focusing on their careers for a good while, but now, they were ready to expand their little family.

The first year of trying had been hindered upon discovering Hermione had scar damage on her uterus, leftover from various war injuries, that made conception difficult and risky. Luckily, with the aid of muggle doctors, Hermione was able to undergo surgery to repair the damage, making it safe for her to carry babies.

But then, Draco had been bitten on an auror mission, and their dreams of children came to a stuttering halt.

At first, they hadn’t understood why they weren’t conceiving. Then, with research, testing, and the advice of Bill Weasley, who suffered from a milder form of lycanthropy, they came to the conclusion that Draco’s condition made him infertile except on the night of the full moon.

This wrenching realization strained their relationship for a time. But the stubborn couple persisted, amongst the many nights of frustration, arguments, and tears, they refused to give up and let themselves be done in by disappointment and the looming taunt of a broken dream.

Once the initial storm passed and they were finally able to talk about it without dissolving into useless shouting, Hermione began the process of coaxing Draco into considering sex during the full moon.

Then came more discussions with Bill and Fleur, who’d managed to have a child despite the oldest Weasley’s lycanthropy. Despite multiple reassurances that as long as his wolf recognized Hermione as its mate, it would do no harm to her, Draco remained skeptical and uncertain. Each month, Hermione would broach the subject, ask her husband if he felt ready to try, and each month, Draco would give the same answer:

“Not yet. Perhaps the next one.”

This went on and on, until finally, the former Slytherin caved –

But not before implementing a slew of precautions.

The basement stairs creaked, alerting Hermione to the approach of her husband. Then came a light thump against the door – probably Draco’s forehead – but it did not open.

“Hermione-” The wizard’s voice was hoarse and strained with uncertainty. “-Have you got the sleeping powder I gave you?”

The former Gryffindor rolled her eyes. “Yes, Draco. It’s upstairs on my nightstand. Where it’s been for the past two days.”

“Your wand as well?”

“Well, I am a witch, aren’t I?”

“And you swear you’ll use them it if you have to?” Draco pressed.

“Yes, love. I already promised I would, didn’t I?” Hermione reassured, trying very hard to mask the annoyance from her voice.

There was a beat of silence. “And you’re absolutely s-”

“Draco Malfoy, if you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I’ll clobber you!”

An exasperated groan came from behind the door. “Well forgive me for trying to protect my infuriating, stubborn wife!”

A collage of comebacks rose to the front of her mind, mostly regarding how she didn’t require his protection nor did she think he would hurt her, but Hermione ultimately just sighed and pressed her cheek to the door. The week leading up to the full moon always put Draco in a mood, and they’d been together long enough know for her to know when his barbs served as a cover up for his fear and insecurity. She didn’t want to argue with him now, not when they were so close to this pivotal night they’d simultaneously anticipated and dreaded for ages.

“I believe in you, you know,” Hermione murmured. “I’m not afraid. I’m ready for this.”

Draco didn’t reply, but she could practically feel him leaning heavier against the door.

“Whatever happens,” she continued, a lump forming in her throat. “We’ll be okay. We have other options. I’ll never resent you for something out of your control. You know that, right?”

A quiet grunt of acknowledgment was her reply, followed by several long moments of silence. Then-

“…Hermione?”

“Yes?”

More silence.

“I…it’s nothing. I just-” A shaky exhale. “-I love you.”

Lip trembling, Hermione resented the stupid slab of wood separating them, wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and hold her husband tight. But he needed this time to mentally prepare himself, so she held back.

“I love you too,” the witch whispered. With great strength, she managed to pry herself away from the door. “The sun’s nearly gone. I’m heading upstairs now.”

She faintly heard Draco mutter, “Okay…I’ll meet you there.”

Wiping away a stray tear, Hermione caressed the door as though it were her husband’s face, then made her retreat.

Their bedroom had already been prepared for the evening; all the valuables were safely put away, the floo had been locked, and fresh sheets dressed the bed. Burying her own nerves, the witch stripped off every scrap of clothing. Then, she reached for her own precautionary measure, one she’d not informed Draco of.

The lust potion was a light pink, syrupy mixture that smelled nauseatingly sweet with a hidden undertone of spice that promised a visceral reaction.

Hermione toyed with the bottle uncertainly for a moment, debating whether or not she’d need it. The suggestion had come from Fleur, who had no qualms about describing in painstaking detail just how eager Bill could get during full moons.

“There is basically no refractory period,” Hermione recalled her saying. “The wolf’s stamina is immaculate! The first time Bill and I came together on the full moon, it was as though he would never get enough! Why, I could hardly keep up with him, even with my Veela blood. I admit, I needed to recover the next day, but…it was one of the greatest nights of my life.”  

Hermione squeezed her thighs together. She’d always thought she had a healthy libido, but if Fleur’s warnings weren’t exaggerated, then it would be no match for the wolf’s bottomless hunger.

“Since it will be the first time Draco has let the wolf out to play, I suspect he will be especially ravenous. A nice swig from a potent lust potion should help. If you feel yourself getting tired or sore sometime during the night, drink a little more, it will give your body a second wind. And don’t forget the snacks! Draco will be fine, but you could easily get dehydrated from all the sweating and calorie-burning. Again, it will be your first time on the full moon, so expect the wolf to want to go all night long. Best to be prepared!”

The phrase all night long echoed in Hermione’s head, struggling to wrap around the idea of twelve whole hours of nothing but sex. Surely it wouldn’t be constant, right? The wolf would have to allow her breaks, otherwise she wouldn’t last beyond a few hours, even with the lust potion.

Blowing out a long breath, the witch uncorked the potion bottle. She wasn’t afraid of her husband, nor the creature in his head. Hermione knew she could handle them both; she wasn’t Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for nothing.

That said…it would be nice if she could draw some genuine enjoyment from this experience, rather than just view it as a necessary means to an end.

With that, Hermione took a careful sip of the potion, recalling the seller’s warnings about its potency and suggestions to take only minimal doses at a time. The thick, sweet liquid went down smoothly, warming and lingering inside her throat as she swallowed.

The effect was immediate; heat pooled in her lower belly, her nipples tingled and her clit pulsed, thighs growing slick. Hermione sighed, brushing her fingertips along her sensitized skin. Her head felt just slightly fuzzy, as it normally did after a glass of good wine. Overall, she felt rather nice, her arousal potent, but not to the point of driving her wild with need. Which was good, as the witch would need some semblance of a clear head tonight to ensure nothing went awry.

Finally, Hermione fetched one of the bottles of fertility potion that had been sitting in their ensuite and downed that as well. Her nose wrinkled at the bitter taste, though it thankfully didn't make her gag anymore. She'd taken enough of them over the past couple years to become accustomed, unfortunately.

Werewolves, even partial ones, were said to have extremely fertile seed, so it was likely the fertility potion wasn't even necessary, but Hermione was not taking any chances. If tonight didn't go well, she knew Draco wouldn't agree to try again. This may very well be their last chance to conceive a child naturally.

Not a moment too soon had the witch taken the potion, when a startling BANG echoed through the house.

Hermione swallowed, excitement, anticipation, and nervousness swirling about.

Draco was out.

Footsteps creaked up the stairs and pounded down the hallway, followed by the door being swung open so hard, it smacked into the wall rather harshly.

A distant part of Hermione’s brain noted that she’d have to fix whatever dent that left.

The rest of her attention was fully on her husband. Physically, Draco was unchanged, the only notable difference being his eyes; almost glowing in the soft light of their bedroom, pupils fully blown and intense as he stared her down.

Resisting the urge to squirm, Hermione gave a hesitant smile. “Hi, love.”

Draco twitched almost unnoticeably. Then, in two quick strides, he was in front of her. Before the witch could even think of reacting, his hands were grasping at her arm and the back of her neck as he tugged her into his body. Hermione inhaled sharply, but stood utterly still as Draco – the wolf – pressed his nose to the curve of her throat. He huffed against her skin, causing the witch to once again recall her conversation with Fleur:

“He’ll need to scent you. It’s how the wolf recognizes its mate. If he accepts you, which he will, then he’ll-”

Hermione bit her lip when Draco’s tongue swiped over her skin, his body shuddering against her. His long fingers weaved their way into her hair, and she gasped when he yanked her head to the side. Again, the witch remained still, displaying her neck to him in a show of submission. Plus, the roughness was a bit of a turn on…

Draco’s chest rumbled approvingly as he mouthed at her throat. “Mine…” When his teeth sunk into the juncture between her neck and jaw, Hermione shivered.

“And of course, there’s the biting,” came Fleur’s voice. “He will want to bite you quite a lot. Normally, werewolves bestow permanent marks on their chosen ones, much like us Veela do, but partial werewolves like Draco and my Bill cannot give mating bites. It is…how you say…compensation, yes?”

Sure enough, Draco began nipping and sucking his way down her throat, no doubt leaving behind a litany of marks that Hermione would have to spell away the next morning. The wizard wrapped his arms fully around her then, as though trying to pull her into her own body. She couldn’t help but nudge her hips against his, noticing he was already hard as steel. Her cunt fluttered longingly, and Hermione felt a drizzle of arousal run down her thigh.

Draco’s nostrils flared, no doubt able to smell it. He growled, then Hermione yelped as he lifted her into his arms, legs going automatically around his waist. Barely a moment later, her body hit the bed so hard that she sprung back up a bit. She would have giggled if not for the way Draco was currently looking at her as though he planned to devour her alive.

Hermione licked her lips and rubbed her thighs together, making his gaze darken. Were this a normal night, she may reach up and forcefully pull him down to join her, or tug his pants off before taking his cock in her mouth. But this was not a normal night, and this wasn’t only Draco before her, but his wolf as well. And whether she liked it or not, she was not the one in control tonight. But that was okay.

Instead of taking action, Hermione spread her legs and looked up at him pleadingly. “Draco…please?”

Strangely, his gaze lingered on her pussy for only a moment, conflict flickering across his features. The witch frowned, but before she could ask what was wrong, a cacophony of ripping noises interrupted her thoughts. Draco tossed his ruined clothes to the side then climbed atop her; but rather than nestle himself between her legs, spread wide in invitation, he continued on until he was essentially straddling her chest.

Hermione blinked rapidly, looking up at him in confusion as he caressed the old scar on her shoulder. An expression that was almost tender crossed his face for a brief moment. Then, his brow furrowed with a growl as he squeezed her tits together and slid his cock between them.

Hermione gasped as Draco snapped his hips forward, the tip of his cock bumping her chin, unable to do anything but lay there as her husband fucked her breasts.

For all their exploration over the years, this was one thing they hadn’t tried before, and Hermione wondered how Draco would feel about it come morning.

She hadn’t even known her breasts were large enough to properly use in such a way…

Nevertheless, her husband was grunting in pleasure, so she assumed they were adequate.

Hermione was rather puzzled at his actions of choice – she’d been positive he’d immediately fuck and fill her with a child – but she had to admit, there was something about being used in such an unorthodox and even mildly degrading manner that was making her moan along with him, even though she was receiving no traditional pleasure from this position.

Tilting her chin down, the witch opened her mouth to catch the tip of Draco’s cock, making him groan louder and double his efforts.

“Fuck…”

His voice was lower, more gravely than usual, the sound of it sending shivers down Hermione’s spine.

“Draco,” she breathed.

His eyes snapped down to her just before his body tensed atop her, and a bark of rapture tore from his throat. “Mine!”

The witch gasped as he spilled himself over her face and chest, his cum running down her neck and shoulders, likely dripping onto the sheets.

She held back a cringe when she realized it was probably in her hair too…

Without missing a beat, Draco inched down her body and, looking at his mess almost scrutinizingly, reached down to rub his seed into her skin, smearing it across her breasts, throat, and collarbone.

Amongst the absent thought that she would need a very thorough shower come morning, Hermione realized that the wolf was still scenting her. Thank Merlin Bill was the only other lycanthrope they knew, otherwise she’d die of embarrassment knowing others could smell exactly what had happened this full moon.

Her thoughts were thrown out of the water when Draco’s gentle massages suddenly turned rough; he grasped her nipple and gave it a cruel tug, her breast lifting off her body.

“Ah!” Hermione cried, back arching.

Chest rumbling with approval, the wizard ducked down to capture the sensitive peak with his teeth, clamping down hard enough to bruise. The witch writhed beneath her husband, the potion making everything more sensitive. When Draco drew back, he left teeth marks behind on her areola.

Needing his attention elsewhere, Hermione whined and rubbed her thighs together, desperate for relief. “Draco…Draco, please?”

The wolf’s dark eyes flickered up to her, then, with a low growl, he manhandled her further up the bed and pried her legs apart. Hermione whimpered as he spread her lower lips, her clit practically throbbing with need as he just stared at her cunt for an odd amount of time. Then, Draco jerkily reached up to gather some more of his seed that had pooled between her breasts. She bit her lip as he rubbed it over her pussy, then gasped when he spat directly onto her clit. It was filthy, messy, all kinds of obscene, and yet –

Fuck, she was soaked.

“Oh god!” Hermione nearly squealed when he engulfed her with his mouth. Draco groaned as he tasted her, mumbling incomprehensible gibberish into her cunt as he ate her out. “Ah – oh! Draco, that’s – fuck! Fuck, I can’t, fuck!”

Her husband was ruthless, tongue lashing against her over sensitized clit without mercy. Hermione tried to squirm away, the sensation almost too much to bear, but Draco held her hips in a vice grip. She slapped her hands over her mouth in attempt to muffle the downright lewd noises flying from her lips as her husband continued his assault on her quim. And with how hard she came just a few moments later, Hermione couldn’t in good conscience call it anything but an assault.

“Oh…oh gods,” the witch stammered as she caught her breath.

The Slytherin gave one last long lick from her pussy to her breasts, briefly meeting her mouth in a sloppy kiss before sitting up, eyes molten with desire.

His expression made her stomach twist as though she were at the top of a hill on a rollercoaster, about to take the plunge. Hermione could only imagine how she must look right now; skin littered with bite marks, covered in her husband’s cum, expression glazed and body relaxed from her recent orgasm, yet still needing more.

Draco’s cock gave a twitch as he stared at her, drawing her stunned attention to it.

Holy-

Had he even gone soft!?

Before the Gryffindor could contemplate anymore on this, she suddenly found herself being flipped onto her stomach like a boneless ragdoll. Her husband’s bruising grip found her hips as he forced her up onto her knees. Hermione trembled, cunt clenching with anticipation; she needed him to fill her, needed to be stuffed to the brink until his seed was dripping out of her-

She was all but mangling her lower lip, waiting for the thrust, so she was surprised when she instead felt a gentle hand sliding along her back. Draco pressed the tips of his fingers into every divot along her spine, caressing the span of tense muscle until he reached the back of her neck, continuing up to thread his digits into her hair.

Hermione whimpered, his sweet caresses making her heart melt; but her painfully empty womb demanded more.

“Please…” she whispered.

Without warning, the tender touches turned vicious, and she cried out when her wizard yanked her head back by her hair. Draco’s breath was hot as he leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear. “Please what?” he growled.

Fuck me, Hermione intended to say.

Please fuck me hard, is what she would have said on any other night.

However, when she opened her mouth to beg, what came out was: “Please fill me! Give me a baby, Draco, please! I want a baby, I want your baby!”

Perhaps, when this was over and her mind was no longer clouded by a potion nor the excitement of finally getting pregnant after years of trying, Hermione would be mortified at the words that just flew from her mouth. But right now, in this moment, it seemed that was the perfect thing to say.

Draco stuttered something unintelligible in her ear before slamming into her with a desperate groan. Hermione gave a breathless, punched-out noise, hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets as he gave her no time to adjust before ramming his cock into her again and again. The strangling pleasure bordered on painful, and all the witch could do was whimper and gasp as her husband fucked her harder than he ever had.

“Mine,” Draco panted above her. “Mine, mine, mine-”

That, she knew, was the wolf talking, not the man.

Hermione could easily recall her husband always rolling his eyes and making snide comments about the men in movies or the occasional romantic/erotic novel whenever they nastily and aggressively declared, “Mine!” at the female love interest.

“Like a stupid caveman,” Draco would remark. “Or an immature little child hogging their favorite toy. This is supposed to a love story? Women really find THAT attractive? It’s bloody abuse, it what that is.”

Hermione would laugh and agree before reminding him that those types of unrealistic love stories were aimed toward teen girls who’d yet to learn any better, and middle aged women who were bored with their lives and looking for some good ol’ toxic, shitty alpha males to spice it up a bit.

Hermione would undoubtedly tease her husband later for replicating the very behavior he always criticized and made fun of, but for now, her brain was quite too busy getting the sense fucked out of it to comment.

Grunting, Draco stood up on one knee behind her, the angle allowing him to pound into her even deeper than before.

Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head, mouth hanging open from the intensity. The constant, merciless impact of his cock against her cervix sent her over the edge again, leaving her to sob into the pillow as the climax tore through her.

Draco didn’t slow as he placed a hand on her lower belly, his grunt and moans growing harsher and more erratic. “Mine!” he repeated. “My – my mate…my wife…my baby! Gonna put my baby here-”

Hermione actually did cry then, the combination of hormones, stress, and relief of finally conceiving, finally having a child to call their own, too overwhelming for words. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Give it to me, Draco! Come inside me, give me our child-”

Draco came with a strangled gasp, his seed flooding her womb. Hermione’s chest heaved as she panted, her lower body tingling with a preview of the soreness she was sure to feel tomorrow. When she tried to prop herself up on her arms, a hand came between her shoulder blades to hold her down.

“D-Draco?”

Craning her neck around, the witch found her husband staring down where they were joined with a glazed expression. When her pussy fluttered with sensitivity, Draco groaned loudly and, to Hermione’s shock, started thrusting again.

Granted, he was much gentler this time around, but her swollen, over sensitized walls felt every single vein in the slow slide of his cock. Air evacuated her lungs as she clawed at the sheets, unable to do anything but whimper and gasp as he somehow came a third time barely two minutes after his last orgasm.

Fleur was not kidding about that nonexistent refractory period, apparently.

Thankfully, Draco pulled out this time, his erection having somewhat flagged for the moment; but then he thought it necessary to catch the rivulets of cum escaping Hermione’s overfilled quim and shove them back in with his fingers.

At this point, Hermione was so sensitive that so much as a breath against her core would be too much, so she reached out a trembling arm to desperately grab at her husband’s wrist.

“N-No more,” she breathed. “Please, Draco, no more for now. That hurts. Please stop.”

Draco stared at her blankly for a moment, as though she’d spoken to him in a foreign language. But then, his expression softened, and he obediently withdrew his fingers.

The witch sighed in relief and slumped onto the bed. She felt the mattress dip beside her followed by a nose pressing into her neck. Hermione giggled tiredly as he nuzzled her, resembling more of a cat in that moment rather than the wolf that lived inside him.

A wolf that was completely insatiable, judging by the half-hard length currently pressing against her hip.

The witch Accio’d one of the water bottles she’d left on the nightstand as she carefully sat up. Draco followed her movement, unwilling to release her even as she awkwardly maneuvered around him.

And this was only the beginning of the night.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Hermione muttered as she sipped her water.

The wolf merely looked up at her innocently from his spot in her lap. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Hermione dozed a few times, but never for long, and was always awoken by Draco’s tongue on her pussy or his cock pushing into her. She had to take a second, then third dose of the lust potion to keep from succumbing to her exhaustion. They didn’t have anymore incidents, her husband now able to tell when she was getting too tired and needed a break. He’d sit by her side or cuddle up to her while Hermione took sips of water or nibbled on crackers and granola, waiting eagerly until she was ready to go again.

Other than that, it was just fucking. A lot of fucking.

Draco fucked her hard with her head hanging off the bed. He fucked her soft on the floor with her hips in the air and her feet dangling next to her head. He fucked her on the bathroom counter after she briefly disappeared to relieve herself.

They fucked the night away, and he came inside her so much that it coated her arse and the backs of her thighs. If they somehow didn’t conceive a child after all that, then some deity was just taking the piss out of them.

It wasn’t until the moon disappeared and the first pale rays of light came in through the window that the wolf finally retreated, and Draco and Hermione both passed out at once, wrought with exhaustion and satiated beyond measure.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Hermione trudged her way back to consciousness. For a moment, she simply lay there in content, enjoying the relaxed heaviness in her bones and the knowledge that she had nowhere to rush off to. Then, the realization that it may have finally worked, that she could be pregnant right now made elation grow in her chest, and she excitedly sat up-

Only to hiss at the acute pain in her nether regions and slump back down.

Ah, there was that soreness she’d been expecting. “Ow,” Hermione deadpanned.

As though materializing out of thin air, Draco’s face came into view. She blinked up at him blearily as he held out a bottle to her. “Pain potion,” he said softly.

Mumbling her gratitude, the witch happily gulped it down, sighing when the aches eased. Draco sat down on the bed, caressing her ankle soothingly. “So…” he began uncertainly.

Hermione smiled. “So,” she repeated.

The Slytherin raked his gaze up and down her form, taking in the physical evidence of their night of debauchery. “How are you?” he asked tentatively.

The witch sighed, stretching out with a great yawn. “Tired. Sore. But...good. Really good, actually. I'll have to remember to send Fleur a gift basket." 

At this, Draco cracked a smile. "This is actually the first time the morning after a full moon I haven't felt off at all, or completely like shit. Who knew the key to conquering lycanthropy was just constant shagging?"

Hermione huffed a laugh. "Yes, but now I'm absolutely famished." 

“I was rather hungry myself when I got up. I had Mitty make me steak and eggs.”

She hummed. “Sounds wonderful. I think I’ll have the same.” She frowned when moving brought attention to her itchy skin, still painted with last night’s activities. “After I’ve had a shower, though. Or ten.”

Draco’s ears turned red as he rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah…sorry about that.”

The Gryffindor shrugged. “Do you remember last night very well? I know your memories on the full moon can get muddled…”

“Actually,” her husband said thoughtfully. “I remember everything pretty well.” Here, he smirked. “You certainly came a lot.”

Hermione arched a brow. “Says the man who was basically hard throughout the entire night! How have you not passed out, honestly?”

He chuckled and shrugged as though to say, “I can’t help how great I am!”

Smiling, the witch sat up and scooched towards her husband to wrap him in a hug. “You did well,” she murmured. “I knew it would be alright.”

Draco’s eyes misted, but he cleared his throat and kissed her as though nothing was wrong.

Hermione kissed him back tenderly, feeling every ounce of his relief and joy against her lips. When his large hand came to rest on her stomach, they both looked down hopefully.

“Do you think…?” the witch whispered.

Draco swallowed and summoned his wand. “Do you want me to…?”

For a moment, she hesitated, months of crushing disappointment and frustration because of that accursed white glow flashing in her memory. But putting it off wouldn’t change the outcome anyhow.

“Do it,” Hermione muttered, trying and failing to keep her voice from trembling.

Draco cupped her face and prompted her to look at him, his mixed expression of fear and tentative hope matching hers. He pressed his forehead to hers briefly, wordlessly, and it was all she could do to keep her lip from trembling.

“Okay,” her husband whispered.

The tip of his wand was laid against her belly, then the charm exited his lips in a single breath.

When the room glowed a bright blue, Draco and Hermione finally allowed their tears to fall, their room filling with joyful cries.

Chapter Text

Draco hummed lowly as the last swig of firewhiskey burned his throat on its way down. He was left staring balefully at the empty glass, seriously contemplating a refill until the bitter old codger also known as ‘common sense’ reminded him of the scheduled brunch with his mother in the morning, and how distinctly displeased she’d be if he showed up hungover.

Again.

Setting down the glass with a huff, Draco abandoned the tempting tumbler and exited his study, hands shoved into the pockets of his sleep pants. The moon glared down at him through the windows as he meandered aimlessly through his home, reminding him of all the precious hours of slumber he was currently missing out on.

Insomnia was nothing new to Draco, particularly in the years following the war and the long, painful rehabilitation afterwards. It tended to come and go as it pleased, some nights faring worse than others.

Unfortunately, this night fell into the ‘worse’ category.

He’d already tried reading and drinking, his go-to coping mechanisms for sleepless nights, but all they did this time was make him antsy. He’d usually go out for a fly next, but it was far too bloody cold outside.

Sighing, Draco ran a hand through his hair and dragged himself back to the bedroom with resignation, prepared to lay awake in bed for the next however-many-hours until his brain finally decided to fuck off and let him sleep.

Opening and closing the door quietly, the Slytherin waved his hand, causing the bedside lamp to emit a gentle glow. The soft light shined upon the sleeping form of his wife, tucked snugly into her nest of pillows, chest rising and falling steadily in slumber.

Oh, how Draco envied her.

Hermione’s face was still and peaceful, unbothered by night terrors or dreams of any kind beneath the influence of the Dreamless Sleep potion she’d taken earlier. For a fleeting second, the blond found himself sorely tempted to take one as well; after all, it would only be one measly dose, and it had been years since he struggled with an addiction to the stuff-

Draco shut down that line of thinking with a firm shake of his head. Though his body had long freed itself from its unhealthy reliance on the potion, the threat of relapse always lingered there alongside temptation.

Shrugging off his robe, the Slytherin slipped into bed, absently reaching out to smooth his wife’s curls as he did so. The blanket had slipped down Hermione’s body, Draco noticed, exposing a freckled shoulder. He moved to tuck her back in, only to pause as his brain very helpfully chose that moment to remind him of a certain conversation he’d had with his wife just a week prior:

“You…you want me to WHAT?”

Hermione flashed an amused half-smirk. “Fuck me while I’m asleep.”

Draco could only gape in disbelief, his brain trying and failing to form a cohesive image of what she was suggesting. “That’s – Hermione, that is INSANE. Fuck you in your sleep, are you serious? Without you knowing what I was doing? That’s almost as though I were forcing myself on you!”

The witch rolled her eyes affectionately. “Not if I’d already given you permission, which I am doing right now, silly.”

Draco’s mouth snapped shut. “B-But…WHY? I mean…what’s the point?”

Hermione shrugged, a hint of pink rising on her cheeks. “Well, I know how much trouble you have going to sleep some nights, and I thought…maybe it’s something that could help?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. “Love, that’s…I’m not even sure what to say, really. I love that you’re thinking of me, but…I just don’t know if that’s something I’d be comfortable doing.”

Hermione smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “Hey, it’s alright, love. I’m certainly not saying you have to, especially if the thought makes you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that you have that option, and I’m completely okay with it, but ONLY if that’s something you would want as well.”

The wizard kissed her knuckles absently, his mind now running wild with her suggestion. “But suppose I do decide to go for it, and you wake up and change your mind. What then?”

Hermione shrugged. “Then I’ll tell you I’m not in the mood, or it’s not a good time. But I’m telling you Draco, I’m truly okay with it generally speaking. Consider this a sort of blanket permission. And who knows…maybe we’ll both even like it.”

Right now, his wife was completely out, the potion ensuring she’d get a full night of uninterrupted rest. A herd of hippogriffs could stampede through their room, and she’d be none the wiser.

Same goes for if you fucked the daylights out of her, his hindbrain piped up. Draco clenched his fists as his logical brain countered that it was a ridiculous idea.

Honestly, what was the point of having sex with his wife if she wasn’t consciously there to experience it with him? He wouldn’t be able to watch her beautiful face contort with pleasure, hear her sweet, breathy moans and demands, feel that delicious pain in his scalp when her wicked fingers pulled on his hair, something he pretended to hate but they both knew he actually loved-

Hermione sighed in her sleep, and something in Draco’s lower belly twisted.

Fuck, he thought as all the blood in his body seemed to rush south. As he chewed just a little too hard on his lower lip, the Slytherin’s grip on the blanket moved down instead of up. His wife wore nothing but a soft, thin camisole and a pair of knickers despite it being in the middle of winter. She always claimed he kept her warmer than any expensive, elf-knit blanket could.

Smiling softly, Draco slowly grazed a hand up Hermione’s hip.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just…give it a go? She’d been very clear about her consent on the matter, and he didn’t have anything else to occupy his mind for the night now that the idea had completely overtaken it.

Draco ran his tentative fingers along the edge of her knickers, hesitant. A part of this still felt so incredibly odd, maybe even a little wrong, but-

But the thought of her laying there, completely unaware as he used her body for his own needs-

It DID something to him.

Drawing in a long, trembling breath, Draco allowed his curious fingers to slide beneath Hermione’s knickers. The witch gave no reaction when he began to massage her clit, still deep in slumber, and Draco couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or disappointed at that. Smoothing back her curls with his free hand, the wizard leaned down to mouth at the sensitive spot below Hermione’s ear. Her breath might have stuttered slightly, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Skating his fingers further down her cunt, Draco was surprised to find her slick and warm. Though his wife may be asleep, it seemed her body could still respond to him.

The thought filled him with both excitement and pride as he pushed a finger inside her heat to test her readiness.

Hermione’s pussy was soft and pliant, her body calm and relaxed in sleep. Normally, Draco would tease her a bit with his fingers and tongue before allowing his cock to join the party, but with how easily her velvety walls stretched around him, she was already prepared to take him. His dick twitched eagerly in his sleep pants, demanding attention that Draco saw no reason to deny.

Kicking off his minimal clothing, the wizard tugged Hermione’s knickers off her and rolled her gently onto her stomach. Ensuring her face was turned to the side and not buried in the pillows, Draco took his cock in hand and rubbed it against her peachy arse, grabbing a handful of the lovely flesh while he was at it.

Gods, he could wax bloody rhapsodic about his wife's beautiful arse.

Once he’d had his fill, he wandlessly summoned the bottle of lube from the bedside drawer and thoroughly coated his cock in the stuff, not wanting to risk hurting her while she was unable to respond.

Then, lifting her hips just a bit, Draco slid into her waiting body, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Fuck, she felt good. Head tilting back and eyes sliding shut, Draco rocked steadily into Hermione, forcing himself to start slow. It wouldn’t do if he came too quickly, after all.

Alas, he made the mistake of looking down, where he was treated to the magnificent sight of his cock disappearing into his witch’s tight cunt, and her arse bouncing with each thrust. “Merlin fuck,” Draco breathed as his hips sped up against his will.

Amidst the sound of skin slapping together, a soft snuffling caught his attention.

Freezing like a child with his hand in the cookie jar, Draco cast a wide-eyed gaze down at Hermione. Several beats, and she did not wake, but he did notice her breaths seemed oddly more labored than before. Worried her breathing was being hindered by the position, Draco withdrew and turned her on her back.

His wife’s face was peaceful in sleep, a few stray hairs caught between her lips. He brushed them away with a smile, her hot breath against his wrist sending a tingle up his arm. She was so gorgeous, so breathtaking, so – so innocent and unsuspecting while lost in slumber.

Shivering, Draco took a moment to simply observe his lovely little witch, his hungry eyes devouring her freckled skin, long eyelashes, and full lips. Some days, he still struggled to process that Hermione Granger, this otherworldly woman, had chosen him. But she had, by some poor act of fate, she had, and now she was his and he was hers, and-

Growling lowly, Draco pushed up Hermione’s camisole, his lips promptly attacking her ribcage. Holding her close, he placed desperate open-mouthed kisses up her stomach and chest, suddenly needing to worship her perfect body.

He sucked little marks into her skin, uncaring that she’d find them in the morning and wonder where they came from. With a quiet groan, Draco’s lips wrapped around Hermione’s nipple, the peak stiffening against his tongue. He delighted in the hitch of her breath, her body responding to him even under the cloak of sleep. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, feeling the steady beat of her heart with his lips. As Draco placed a kiss there, his cock twitched as though to remind him of its presence.

Sighing, the wizard couldn’t help but rub himself against Hermione’s slick cunt, and he swore she was even wetter down there than before. It was marvelous.

Kissing her hardened nipple one last time, Draco sat up on his knees and pulled his wife’s arse into his lap. Her pretty little pussy was glistening invitingly, just waiting for his cock to drive into it. Puckering his lips, the wizard spat directly onto her wet folds before plunging back in. Hiking Hermione’s knees up to his shoulders, Draco didn’t hold back as he plundered her depths, her body a living cocksleeve for him to use.

As he pursed his lips to hold back his heated cries, the Slytherin placed a hand on Hermione’s abdomen, a fresh wave of arousal flooding his veins when he realized he could feel his cock moving inside her.

“Ung…” A small, barely audible moan reached Draco’s ears. His witch’s expression had morphed the tiniest bit, her forehead just slightly wrinkled and her lips parted as he forced little pants from her with each thrust.

“Fuck,” Draco moaned, snapping his hips faster. “Even when you’re asleep you love my cock, huh? My perfect little wife.”

Despite knowing she couldn’t hear nor answer him, Draco could so easily picture Hermione’s reaction to his filthy words, how she’d bite her lip and flutter her lashes to conceal how much she liked them. The mental image sent Draco soaring over the edge with a bitten-off grunt, mouth opening in a silent shout as he came hard inside his wife.

The wizard panted into the silent room as his head spun from the intensity of his orgasm. “Shit…holy shit, what did I just do?”

Withdrawing carefully as a tinge of guilt tainted the satisfaction in his chest, Draco stumbled on unsteady feet to their ensuite to fetch a damp rag, not trusting himself to use magic at the moment. He cleaned up the mess he’d left on both Hermione and the bedspread, then eyed the rag longer than necessary as though it would expose him. Forcing an air of nonchalance, he simply tossed the offending cloth in the hamper.

“She gave you permission. You did nothing wrong,” Draco chanted internally, trying to assuage the trickle of guilt that had yet to leave him alone.

Hermione shivered, a displeased hum leaving her still unconscious form. Snapping out of it, the wizard tucked his wife back in, smiling as she immediately burrowed under the covers with a sigh. Electing to join her, Draco stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as he slid beneath the comforter.

The moment his head met the pillow, a heavy drowsiness washed over him. Immediately, a sense of both relief and exasperation accosted him; relief because it looked like he’d get some sleep tonight after all, and exasperation because of fucking course Hermione was right. As usual.

Well. Not that he had any right to complain this time.

As Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, he made a mental note to pluck a few flowers from his mother’s garden tomorrow to give his wife.

As he began to drift off, he subconsciously reached blindly across the bed until his fingers bumped against Hermione’s. He lazily laced them together with hers, not wishing to stop touching her yet. Draco thought he might have felt her grip his hand in return before going under, but he couldn’t quite remember.

He was having the oddest, yet simultaneously greatest dream. He was floating…somewhere, who knows really. All he knew was that his body was totally weightless, like when he rode his broom. Maybe he was floating through the ocean in the middle of summer…it certainly felt warm enough.

Above him were multiple, indiscernible shapes of several sizes and color. Something – maybe a sea creature? – was licking at his calf. Rather than feel alarmed, Draco found the sensation oddly pleasant.

And then…his entire body seemed to sink below the waves, the water enveloping him in a wet, warm, pleasurable hug that set his blood alight. Something tickled his chest and stomach – seaweed? – as the distant sound of groaning reached his ears from somewhere in the depths.

He should be drowning, but he wasn’t. It felt good. It felt…so, so good-

 Draco’s eyes sprang open as a gasp tore from his throat. Fuzzily, he realized that groaning was coming from him, and the warmth enveloping him was centered entirely around his cock.

Looking down, he was greeted with the sight of several errant curls – the seaweed! – peaking out from under the comforter. A large lump resided between his legs, and it was currently bobbing up and down.

Draco moaned loudly as his muggy brain realized what was happening. “Hermione-”

The lump shifted, the comforter lifting to reveal his messy-haired wife, her lips wet and her eyes dark. “Good morning, love,” she crooned.

Draco attempted to answer, but all that came out was a, “Hnngh…”

 Hermione, the minx, giggled. “Did you have fun last night?”

The wizard looked away guiltily, unsurprised that she’d already caught on. “I-I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“Now why are you sorry?” she countered and grinded her cunt down on his knee, making him gasp. So that’s what the licking was…

“I told you to do it, after all. If I’d wanted an apology, believe me, you’d know,” Hermione said firmly, not stilling her hips. “Did you sleep alright?”

Draco struggled to process his wife’s words and form an appropriate response. “Uh…uh huh.”

The Gryffindor beamed. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’d hoped that when I woke up this morning and felt a curious, yet familiar soreness between my legs that I don’t remember acquiring that my suggestion had worked.”

Draco panted, clenching his thigh so she’d have something better to grind on. “Worked like a fucking charm.”

Hermione’s smile turned wolfish. “And did you enjoy it? Using me like that?”

Draco’s breath stuttered. “U-Um-”

She leaned down for a kiss. “Because I liked it,” she rasped against his lips. “When I woke up and realized what you’d done, I almost came on the spot. I love the thought of you using me, using my body like your own personal sex toy. It turns me on so much.”

Draco’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Fuck! R-Really?”

Hermione nodded, whimpering as his thigh caught her clit just right. “To be honest, I’ve been wanting to bring this up with you for a while, but I wasn’t sure if it was your thing, so I thought if I suggested a practical reason for it, you might be a little more partial to the idea?”

She sat up, panting as her hips picked up their pace. “Please tell me honestly, did you like it, Draco? It’s – oh god – it’s okay if you didn’t, I won’t be mad.”

Draco shivered beneath her. “I did like it,” he admitted huskily. “You looked so beautiful laying there, completely helpless and fuckable. I could have done anything to you, and you wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing to stop me!”

Hermione keened, throwing her head back as she gushed all over his thigh.

“Gods, Hermione,” Draco panted.

His wife looked down at him with a satisfied grin, completely aware of the effect she had on him. “Now, my sweet little love,” she murmured, inching down his body. “We still have a couple hours before we have to meet your mother for brunch. Why don’t you go back to sleep and let me have a little fun now?”