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The Common Room

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The Common Room

Presently, Hermione was sitting at the table in the kitchenette in the Head common room, trying to finish her Potion's homework. But as was becoming the norm, Malfoy interrupted her, storming into the common room and slamming the door loudly behind him.

She glanced up, startled and a bit piqued. "What's with you, Malfoy?" she asked in the way a friendlier pair of people might have said, "How are you doing today?"

"Fucking awful day," the blond growled, throwing his messenger onto the table dangerously close to her open inkwell. "Bloody fucking awful. Potions was a mess, Professor Binss is an incompetent prick, Pansy wouldn't shut the hell up all through lunch, and honestly, I just want to smite the shawls off Professor Trelawny."

"Smite?" Hermione said, her eyebrows lifted in amusement.

"Don't mock my word choice, Granger, I'm not in the mood," he said, giving her a withering look as he slumped into the chair across from her. Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering "drama queen", and returned to her essay, though not for long.

Only a few seconds had passed before he straightened suddenly, as if getting a brilliant idea. The Head Girl looked up from her Potion's homework as Malfoy's chair legs scraped loudly across the floor.

"Hey, Granger… You know something that would make me feel so much better?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "What would that be, Malfoy?"

"Sex, of course."

Hermione blushed. "I thought we were finished, Malfoy." She lifted her chin haughtily. "One night stand, I was assuming." A string of memories flashed through her mind: the image of his head between her thighs, her hands curled in his beautiful blond hair, his groan passing, husky and gravelly, from between his lovely lips—

"That's where you'd be wrong, Granger dearest," he said, drawing her name out seductively so that the region under her stomach flared with a forbidden sort of heat. "And besides; an awful day makes me awful horny," he joked with a smirk. She looked at him dubiously. "Oh, come on. I, of all people, will be the first to admit you can fuck."

The Gryffindor started at his coarse language, and he laughed. "Think of it like this—we'll have a sort of… friends with benefits relationship. Only, minus the friend's bit. You'll always be a snotty, annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor bitch to me."

Hermione's face reddened. "And you'll always be a snobbish insufferable, simpering Slytherin bastard."

"There we go, Granger, that's the spirit!" he said cheerfully.

She bit her lip, thinking hard. On one hand, she really wanted to get her Potion's work done, and she hated the thought of being used. But, she thought, I'd be using him just as much as he'd be using me. Plus, he was a pretty mind-blowing shag.

The brunette crossed her arms. "Fine. But what exactly do you have in mind?"

Malfoy leaned back and stroked his chin, as if pondering something extremely important. "I think a lap dance would be a nice start," he finally said, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Figures he would want something so sexist, she thought. But lap-dances usually led to some pretty intense, hot shagging. "Alright, Malfoy, I'll do it. But this is the last time. We aren't going to drag this out any longer," she warned him.

"That's what they all say. And you know what?"

"They end up running away screaming in terror?"

Now it was the Slytherin's turn to roll his eyes. "No, silly Gryffindor. They all come back."

"You're an arrogant little prick, aren't you?"

Malfoy raised a solitary eyebrow. "'Little?' There are a lot of words oft used to describe my prick, but 'arrogant' and 'little' are usually not one of them. You of all people should know that."

She blushed once again. "Just shut up before I change my mind."

"Before you do anything, go change," Malfoy said. "There is no way I'm letting you give me a lap dance in that."

"Really?" she said, standing up and pouting in what she hoped was an alluring fashion. "I find the whole 'schoolgirl' approach a bit sexy."

"Not for me," Malfoy refuted. "I prefer more… racy clothes. So go on. Find something you think I'll like." He gestured to her door imperiously.

Hermione spun on her heels and retreated towards her bedroom without a word, already scheming. He underestimates me, she thought as she raided her closet. Says I "can fuck", but he doesn't know the half of it. She pulled something off a hanger. You are dreadful, Hermione, she laughed to herself, setting her outfit on the bed and shedding her jumper. This would be her entertainment for the day—watching Draco Malfoy completely lose control.

|O|O|O|

Draco dragged a chair from the kitchenette to the centre of the common room and with a flick of his wand, slow, sultry music seemed to pour from the walls. He settled down in the chair, already feeling his dick twitching in anticipation at what was sure to happen tonight.

What had occurred the weekend before was sort of an accident. She piqued his curiosity, and Draco was quite surprised to find that his Head Girl wasn't the innocent, ignorant little Gryffindor he'd fight thought she was. Her body wasn't perfect, like Pansy manipulated hers to be, but it was charming and delectable in its own little way, and over the course of the week he'd found that having another encounter with Granger to be a very appetising idea. The whole, "friends with benefits without actually being friends" idea sounded brilliant, too.

He only had to wait a moment longer before she meandered out of her bedroom, wearing what he would definitely classify as racy.

Granger wore only a thong and suspenders to cover herself, the straps clinging to her breasts and hiding her nipples, probably kept in place by magic. Her feet were shod in five-inch black stilettos that transformed her legs from short and stick-like to long and nothing short of mouth-watering. Her hair was wildly curly, instead of its usual bushiness, and her lack of make-up somehow appeared to Draco more than Pansy's typical painted face and ruby lips.

Just one glance and Draco could feel his dick stiffen considerably. "Get that fit arse over here, Granger," the Slytherin said, tapping his lap and looking her over expectantly. She followed his direction for the most part, only she sauntered seductively instead of rushing—each step measured, steady, and sexy.

"You're not going to make me beg tonight," Draco informed her. "I'm above that, even if you aren't."

Her face flushed. "I disagree," Granger said smoothly. "I know how much you loved to be teased—and I'm going to tease you until you're ready to cum in your pants." Draco felt a slight flicker of surprise—he wouldn't have pegged her as one for dirty talk.

Slowly, confidently, she climbed onto Draco's lap, straddling his hips and grinding into his steadily growing erection. She wore perfume—an intoxicating scent that reminded him of every scent he ever loved, including vanilla, cinnamon, and roses. "Ah, screw the lap dance," he said before pulling her to him, finding her lips with his own.

Another surprise—she responded in earnest, kissing him and pulling him closer by his shirt collar. He responded equally eagerly, his insides suddenly exploding with heat.

"My, you must be randy, Granger," Draco said tauntingly into her lips. "I don't remember you being this enthusiastic."

The Gryffindor pulled away and stared him down intently with large, brown doe-eyes, her hand cupping his cheek and her thumb affectionately stroking his cheek.

"Ah, but you're right, Malfoy," she admitted. "I am horny. And wet. Soaking, even. Just imagining your thick, hard cock stuck up my cunt." Draco couldn't supress a noise of disbelief. Had someone told him a month ago that Hermione Granger would sit in his lap whispering naughty things in his ear, he would have hexed them to next Thursday. But that was exactly what she was doing. "I keep thinking," she continued, "of how that bint Parkinson got to fuck your lovely cock countless times, and I only got it once. That's not really fair, is it?" she crooned, still stroking his face.

It took Draco an embarrassingly long time for him to find his voice. "I thought you didn't want my cock anymore," he said. "You called it 'little', remember?"

She shrugged coyly. "Like I said, I'm horny. Just thinking about it got me all hot and bothered."

Tenderly, the brunette trailed her hand from Draco's cheek to his jaw, neck, and down his chest before she froze, fingers splayed against his shirt. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the fabric of his dress shirt, the smoothness of her skin and every slim finger. Draco's breath hitched in his throat. No matter how much he pretended he was nonchalant and at ease with this, it was evident she had a certain and unique effect on him.

The Gryffindor began to slowly stroke his chest with her thumb, looking up, eyes wide and nearly glowing amber. Draco could do nothing but stare back. She reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair from his face to behind his ear. Every bit of skin she brushed seemed to burst into flames, even the tips of said ear—he was painfully aware of every move. Not only were these actions turning him on much more than he thought they would; there was also something else behind them, something deeper and sweeter than he expected.

The tender moment broke when Granger suddenly took the material of his shirt and fisted it in her hands, dragging him towards her. Suddenly all the sweetness and gentleness vanished from the night all that was left was desperate hunger and need. Slowly, gradually, she began gyrating her hips, digging her pelvis into Draco's her core into his, moving as if she were riding a horse.

He held onto her hips, pulling her ever closer to him, groaning with gratification. "Merlin, Granger. The things you do to me…" he bucked his hips into her and she mewled in surprise. "And the things that come from that pretty little mouth of yours…"

The Gryffindor suddenly pulled him nearer by his shoulders, mashing her lips against his, immediately opening them with her own. Her warm breath flew into his mouth, follow quickly by her nimble, wet tongue. He moaned hotly, threading slender fingers through her hair. "Good God. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Obviously you're not too worried about that anymore," she replied, her voice low and hoarse with what Draco took for lust.

"True; there are more pressing matters to attend to," he agreed against her mouth. He slid his tongue across her bottom row of teeth, tasting her last snack—apples, probably, with caramel. Delicious, he thought greedily.

Granger moaned, now hungrily sucking on his lips. With one hand she reached for his pant zipper, the other grasping his shoulder. Draco, immediately aware of the new contact, reached down as well and cupped her hand over his length, which by now had reached full mast and was barely contained by his trousers.

"Feel that, Granger?" he whispered. "You're making me so fucking hard. I can barely stand it. You better fuck me soon, or I might just explode."

"Patience, Malfoy," she said, a roguish smile playing with the corners of her lips, red and thick and begging to be kissed. "All in good time." After a firm squeeze that made him jump she lifted her hand to his neck and resumed their fervent kiss. Draco grunted his discontent but said nothing else, granted with a new distraction. Moments later she drew her lips away, her arms thrown over his shoulders and their foreheads leaning against the other's. Her slim fingers played with the trail of hair going down the nape of his neck.

"Want to know a secret?" the Gryffindor asked, eyebrows raised enticingly.

He ran his fingers down his sides, ribs to hips, as he answered, "Of course. You know how much I love gossip."

She grinned and whispered in his ear huskily, "These are Ron's suspenders."

Draco looked up, eyes wide, and she laughed.

"You're joking," he said, hands stilled by the confession.

"Nope," Granger said, smiling at his reaction. She sensually wound her arms tighter around his neck, arching her back so her chest pressed into him. "Dead serious," she added, craning her neck to reach his ear. "He wore them to a Weasley wedding once. And I got them afterwards."

Before Draco got a chance to respond, she dragged her teeth down his ear before gently biting his earlobe. Just the thought of a girl doing this to him made him go crazy with lust. He gasped, his fingertips trailing from her hips to her thighs, drawing lazy circles on either one as she planted soft kisses on the sensitive skin around his ears. "Fuck, Granger," he ground out. "Come on. I know you liked shagging me as much as I liked shagging you. Let's get on with it, yeah?"

The brunette didn't bother to answer. Instead, her lips progressed down towards his shoulder, her hands still at the back of his neck.

Draco, frustrated and way beyond turned on, pulled her up towards him to press his lips into her breast bone. She inhaled quickly, her eyes widening in surprise. "Stop," she commanded. "This is cheating."

"What kind of game are we playing, Granger dear?" he replied, his voice muffled. He dipped lower, burying his face into her cleavage. His kisses were sloppy and wet, and he knew exactly what sort of effect these kisses would have on her.

"My ga—" the brunette began, but he cut her off as he deftly picked her up and switched her around, so her back faced his chest. Draco nuzzled her neck with his nose and lips, planting little kisses along the skin there. Her taste and scent was intoxicating.

Draco's palm scaled down her stomach, dipping into the thong, the pads of his fingers finding her gorgeously wet clit. The Slytherin rubbed the hardened nub, revelling in her reaction and the slickness of it.

"Malfoy," Granger managed between now-ragged breaths. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Taking matters into my own hands, since all you seem intent on doing is tormenting me, you fucking little cock-tease,"

"But that's the fun part," she panted. "And you deserve it."

Draco laughed against her shoulder. "Feisty now, aren't we? Not for long." He abandoned her clit and dipped a single finger into her cunt, swiftly adding another one and curling them both, feeling his Head Girl shiver with pleasure.

"I know you were just trying to turn me on earlier, when you said you were soaked," he hissed in her ear, slowly sliding in third finger. Draco began to pump all three in and out as he continued, "But now, you can't deny it—you most definitely are wet. Dripping, actually."

Another finger and Hermione seemed unable to form coherent speech, and Draco grinned. "I have you at my mercy now, Granger. The tables seem to have turned."

The last comment appeared to have enraged her, and she stood up, whirling around to face him. He smiled up at her, enjoying the fact that he had some effect on her, and it wasn't just the other way around. The Gryffindor was breathing heavily and unevenly, her dark eyes glazed over and heated.

Not so tough when she loses control, is she? he thought, satisfied. That airy confidence that she had earlier in the night was rapidly disappearing.

Granger made a grab for his hand and pulled him to his feet. "You know what else isn't fair?" she said, but didn't give him time to answer. "You wearing so many… clothes. All of this—" she gestured wildly to his entirety, "—should be gone!"

Draco smirked. "Alright then. Take it off."

"M-me?"

"Yeah. You want it off, you take it off."

"Fine," she said. "I will." Resolve glittering in her now-once-again-confident eyes, she stepped towards him. Leaning forward, she took his first button in her mouth, deftly using her tongue and teeth to unbutton it.

Who the hell would think of this? Draco thought to himself, stiffening as Granger's teeth gently scraped against his newly exposed skin. This is true torture. And then she started to moan, sending vibrations through him, starting from his torso and branching out. Somehow his brain managed to process the strangeness of how quickly their positions switched, dominant to submissive and back again through the "true torture".

Instead of fighting it, though, the Slytherin slowly allowed himself to calmly enjoy this. That is, until she got to the trousers. A slight tingling crawled about his body, starting from his centre and branching out, just as it had when she was working on his shirt. With a start he realised she was pulling down the zipper with her teeth and he shuddered at the thought. The things you do to me, Granger, he thought, but didn't say, not trusting himself that the words would come out right.

Finally she was finished, standing up straight to pull off Draco's dress shirt and throwing it on the floor. The brunette went for his trousers next, pulling them off and exposing his clearly tented boxers. Kicking off the heels so she was once again a foot shorter than him and then pushing him backward until he fell on the couch in the common room, Granger whipped off his pants and then his shoes, throwing them into a pile with the shirt.

Pulling him sideways to lay across the couch, she climbed onto him, knees on either side of his hips. Draco could only look back at her and stare stupidly as she leaned forward, a hand placed on either side of him.

"I'm going to make you beg for me, Malfoy," she murmured into his ear. "You're going to fucking beg for my cunt around your prick."

"Fat chance," he just-managed to hiss, and Granger simply chuckled.

Starting at his throat and curving around his erection, the Gryffindor formed a line of gentle kisses, each touch elongating the trail of fire on his skin. When she reached his bellybutton, she drew slow circles around it with her tongue before dipping it inside. Draco started, taken aback, and Granger smirked, continuing her kisses and following the path of fine white hairs leading down into his boxers.

After reaching the waistband of his underwear, Granger continued upwards, kissing his erection through the boxers, sending shivers of pleasure through Draco's body. As she reached the head, he could feel a little drop of precum wet the fabric, and tensed as her tongue circled around the stain, eyes closed, and then flicked out to taste.

"Delicious," she said quietly. "You're positively delicious, Malfoy."

He refused to beg, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to fuck her. Draco dragged the brunette up to him, pulling her to face him and flattening his erection underneath her. Desperately, he grabbed her shoulders and flipped her over so he was on top, tugging at the suspender straps. To his surprise, they were released from their magical bonds quite easily and fell to the side, exposing Hermione's breasts in full to him. He took one in his hand, admiring the pale colour and soft texture of her skin, softer than anywhere else on her body so far.

"You have gorgeous tits, my dear," he crooned. "Silky and small… the perfect handful…" Draco pushed his lips against one, inhaling the scent of them. They smelled so like her, yet not quite…

"This isn't fair," Granger said indignantly, trying to push him back against the couch and obviously attempting to ignore the pleasure of his hands against her breast. "It's my night, Malfoy."

"According to whom?" he asked in reply, but did not wait for an answer, instead hooking his fingers around the thin string of her thong. It easily broke and he threw the last article of clothing to the floor. Finally, she was bare underneath him, no clothes obscuring his vision of her. His boxers were next and last to go—they were now both completely naked.

"I've let you pretend long enough," Draco lied, knowing that for quite a bit of the night he was completely at her mercy. He pinned her arms against the couch cushion and loomed over her, soaking her in—her smooth, nearly white skin; her hair, tangled and nearly back to full-bushiness from him running his fingers through it so many times; and, of course, her cunt, covered by a thin layer of curly hair. She really was lovely. "But we both know the truth. You're mine tonight." He pushed himself down on her, digging his hips into her. "I'm going to fuck you, Granger."

For the umpteenth time that night she surprised him—reaching up to stroke his face. "Make it hard and fast, Malfoy. I want to cum on your cock."

Draco shuddered at her filthy words and then shoved himself into her, one hard thrust that had them both gasping for breath. The blond quickly followed it with another, then another, then another, plunging into her again and again, gaining rhythm and speed. Granger reached for his back, moaning wantonly as her nails scraped across his shoulder muscles. "Yes…" she panted. "As fast and rough as possible. I want to cum so badly… Fuck…"

"How… how do you feel…" he huffed between thrusts.

"Brilliant," she answered, face distorted with pleasure. "Keep pounding that cock into me, Malfoy. I want to feel every inch of you in my throbbing cunt."

"Of course. You're so fucking tight," Draco murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "So good…" Her fingertips skated up and down his back, from the very top of his arse to where his neck met his shoulders and back again. Beads of sweat collected in the corner of her forehead.

"Malfoy… Malfoy, I'm going to cum soon…"

"Not yet, Granger," he muttered. "Hang on in there. I'm not finished yet."

It only took a few more thrusts until they came together and Granger screamed his name at the top of her lungs. A tidal wave of heat and pleasure washed through Draco, so intense he nearly fell on top of the Gryffindor.

"Good God, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, digging her fingernails into his back. They rode it out together, pulling at each other's hair and moaning the other's name.

"My name sounds so sexy coming from your mouth," Draco murmured as he settled down on top of her, resting his head beneath her chin. "You should say it more often." She gently ran his fingers through his hair, which was no longer soft but thick and shiny with sweat.

"Malfoy…" she breathed, and after a few moments of silence, Draco realized she'd fallen asleep under him. What a pleasant notion, he thought to himself. It almost made him horny all over again. He rolled over onto his side and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Oh, the things you do to me, Granger," he whispered into her curls, half to himself, and then fell asleep as well, hoping that she would take that thing back about one night stands.