Chapter Text
Granger is a funny little bird.
Draco knew this of course, had known this since they first met as children.
He had known she was a swot, that she had a strong sense of self-righteousness, that she would let herself crumble if it meant keeping others afloat. What he has the pleasure of discovering during their time spent together, is that she’s a minx, lascivious, and languid as a lover.
Granger is not shy in her sexuality, unabashed in her nudity, unafraid to press eager and sultry kisses anywhere her lips can reach on his body. She’s selfless and indulgent with her tongue, taking him by surprise the very next morning after their first affair by waking him with her lips wrapped around his cock, he’d been fairly certain he was still dreaming. Later that week she lowers herself onto her knees in front of him, letting him grip onto her wild curls and fuck her throat.
She is, unfortunately , very hesitant to let him reciprocate such actions. Draco knows he shouldn't be shocked at the fact that she wasn’t very good at being selfish, but it’s something he’s determined to break down.
Draco plies her with orgasms, always two, but he wants to try for more. Wants to try making her come as many times as possible, until she’s a shaking, overstimulated mess. Even worse, she’s very hesitant to let him bury his face in her cunt. The first time he tries, she pulls him back up her body, flipping their positions so she can ride him and distract him from his previous mission.
He’s going to get his face between her thighs if it’s the last thing he does.
One mid-November morning Draco wakes before Granger, sliding the blankets back up her body and changing the alarm on her wand to an hour later than usual. She could use the sleep, especially since she didn’t have plans today.
Draco takes the time to wander about her flat, her little orange demon hot on his heels. He makes himself a cup of tea and then scans her large bookcase for something to keep him busy. She has a television in the sitting room, but he’s not particularly comfortable enough with muggle technology to attempt that on his own yet.
The cat jumps onto the coffee table to groom behind its ears, and a little black and red book right next to the furry monster catches his attention, one he’d seen all around her flat but never actually caught her reading.
The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories .
A young woman in a red cloak runs off the cover, most of her body covered by the fabric. Draco vaguely wonders if this is what gave Granger the inspiration for her Halloween costume. It’s an odd little book filled with a multitude of stories, he’s the most curious about the origins of her Halloween costume, so he uses the index to skip to the stories specifically mentioning wolves in the titles.
Shockingly, there are three. This author must like Little Red Riding Hood.
And Granger has left annotations, penned into the margins and charmed to bounce off the text when he ran his thumb across them to read them properly. She spills brilliant, snarky, clever thoughts in elegant, looping cursive.
Two of the wolf stories are quite a fun read, a feral wolf child and an evil little girl who manages to accuse villagers that her grandmother is a werewolf. The third story is more interesting to him, The Company of Wolves, there was a bookmark already sitting in the pages of this chapter.
Draco only gets a few paragraphs in before he hears Granger turn the shower on, clearly awake despite the delay he put on her alarm. He sighs, putting the book back where he found it, trying to decide if he should join her in the shower or take her out to breakfast. He’s rather fond of the idea of setting her atop of the kitchen counter and watching her eat fruit while he kneels before her and devours her cunt.
He highly doubts she’ll allow him that today, but he doesn’t see why he can’t shag her and then take her out for breakfast, so he does exactly that. Granger is exquisite, dripping wet and covered with suds.
She squeaks when he first pops in, but surprise fads into a breathtaking smile once she realizes his intentions. She shouldn’t have such an affect on him, his heart should not perform leaps and bounds just at the sight of her plush lips curving upward, but it only takes a few flutters of her lashes and his prick is at full attention.
Draco takes her against the smooth porcelain of her shower, carefully playing her body to ensure she gets her two orgasms. He studies her, paying close attention to every muscle twitch and noise she gives him, Hermione Granger is his favorite subject. After a proper shag, he takes her out for breakfast, just happy to see her well rested and fed. Much better than when they first met again a few months ago.
“--I’m thinking about taking a literature class next semester, it’s not particularly required for my major, but one of the classes has a specific focus on a favorite author of mine.” Granger chatters, primly cutting into her omelet, utterly adorable as she takes a delicate bite.
Draco nods, just enjoying listening to her speak, as he doesn’t really have a large amount of muggle literature under his belt to discuss. His array of reading of wizarding literature was usually enough to keep her in interesting discussions.
She continues to talk about her schedule for the next semester and he nods, they won’t have any overlapping classes, but he’s not terribly worried. His schedule was much less demanding than hers anyway, he would work around whatever she needed.
“You’re cunt-struck.” Pansy accuses over drinks that night and Draco rolls his eyes.
“You could stand to give me a little more credit.” He mutters, mostly to himself, knowing nothing he says will actually convince her otherwise.
“Have you put a label on it yet?” Theo asks, knocking back the rest of his martini.
“Our Draco, putting a label on something? I wouldn’t believe it.” Blaise says cheekily and Draco briefly considers getting new friends.
He says nothing, because they hadn’t put a label on anything. Granger had seemed to be happy just existing in what they have, and he will have her in any form she allows him. His friends take his silence as confirmation, continuing their ribbing, teasingly calling Granger his girlfriend. He ignores how his pulse spikes, but does not correct them.
Granger keeps chattering on about the end of the semester, counting down each day and then giving him a pointed look as if he’s supposed to know what she’s insinuating.
There are some days Draco is genuinely tempted to use legilimency to figure out whatever riddles she speaks in, because for someone so wonderfully brilliant, she could be difficult to read. He makes a mental note to sit her down and ask her what she means next time she mentions it, he has no time for it today, as he’s already late for his visit to his mother.
He looks up at her just as he’s about to leave, only to find her standing so rigidly, arms wound behind her back. Draco can practically see her building walls, and it takes everything in him not to sigh.
Yes, definitely ask her next time he sees her.
Draco steps away from her floo, leaning forward to kiss her, thumb rubbing against her jaw before he pops off to his mother’s.
Narcissa Malfoy raised Draco to be a proper gentleman, his entire childhood filled with lessons of etiquette and manners. Being late is never acceptable. So, naturally, he expects usual chastising when he arrives late for lunch.
However, when he arrives to find his mother eyeing him deviously as she sips her tea, he knows Pansy is to blame. Draco sits down hesitantly, pulling his napkin over his lap, and waits for the questions to pour in.
Mother simply smiles and stirs her tea.
“How are you liking your muggle studies?” She asks instead.
“Mother, this is my second year attending university and you’ve never asked me about my studies.” Draco accuses, and Narcissa clucks her tongue in mock offense.
“Surely I don’t know what you’re going on about.”
“Don’t play coy, Mother.”
“I had just heard from a few of your friends that you had a girlfriend.” Draco tries very hard not to roll his eyes as his mother continues. “Although it’s not proper courting, I just wanted to say that I’m very happy for you, darling.”
His annoyance melts a little when she reaches across the table and rests her hand over his.
“Thank you.” He murmurs.
“So, who’s the lucky girl?” Narcissa asks and Draco nearly chokes on his tea, quickly wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Pardon?” They hadn’t told her? How very Pansy to drop partial information and leave the rest of it to Draco.
“What’s the girl’s name? Or is it someone I wouldn’t know?” She asks again, tone heavily implying she’s referring to a muggle girl.
“It’s uh–it’s Hermione Granger,” Mother’s spoon clatters against the table, and he tries not to wince. “We share a class this semester, we spend a lot of time together.”
Mother blinks once, twice, three times before clearing her throat and picking her spoon up again.
“She’s a bright girl.” Mother says, “Someone who can match you for once.”
“The brightest witch of her age.” Draco says, fighting a smile as he sips his tea.
Hermione is quiet on Monday, eyes focused and determined as she runs through the lab. His mind wanders back to little swirls of annotation in her novelette, to the wonder of her mind, and how he wishes to peek inside for just a moment. He fears anything longer would sweep him away in the whirlwind.
Draco had prepared himself for the intensity she would bring for this week, as she’d always taken her schooling very seriously. They part ways after class so she can finish work for the professor she assists.
He stays a moment as she walks away, watching her as she goes.
He doesn’t hear from her on Tuesday, but he expects this, so he spends his time finishing a group project and studying for his two finals next week. Draco isn’t necessarily concerned, he enjoys learning the material, the comforting familiarity of what potions once was, but without the expectation and weight of his fathers approval.
True worry sets in on Wednesday when she arrives silent and harried, dark circles beginning to set beneath her eyes, lips pressed determinedly into a line. Her regression is alarming, looming shadows tied together by a dimming golden thread.
Hermione had been doing so well. Draco doesn’t understand.
He grabs her as they leave the chemistry building, resisting the urge to pull her into him right there.
“Let me take you home.” He tries to politely request, not wanting her to distance herself more than she already was.
“No, I can’t today, I have to finish preparing the exam for Dr. Wenly’s class.”
Draco studies her, narrowing his eyes.
“After then, I’ll wait.”
He can practically see the turmoil brewing within her, and he hesitates to push, even though he really wants to. She chews her bottom lip raw as she stares at him, he wants to lean forward, to press his lips against hers to make her stop.
“Go ahead without me, I’m meeting with my group for micro later so I have to stay on campus.” She sighs. “I have a really intense rest of the week.”
Technically, they had no title, no label. Draco had no claim to her time or body, and he had no grounds to demand it besides the fact that it’s what they’ve been ritualistically doing the past few months. If she was setting boundaries, he wanted to respect them. However, she was absolute shit at taking care of herself and it frustrated him to no end.
Draco decides to keep his mouth shut, she’d told him multiple times how much she valued her independence.
“I’ll see you on Friday.” He says, placing a kiss at the top of her head, giving her hand a squeeze before she begins her walk to the biology building.
On Thursday, his resolve breaks, and he asks Pansy for advice.
“She’s pushing you away.” She says it with such nonchalance as she sips her drink, Draco frowns.
“But things are going really well.” That makes Pansy laugh, setting her glass down and giving Draco her full attention.
“Yes, exactly.”
“Exactly, what?”
“Things are going well between the two of you, that’s why she’s pushing you away.” Pansy’s gaze wavers for a moment, “She doesn’t want to count on you. Granger realizes how much she really likes you, and that if she gets anymore attached, it will be even worse when you leave.”
Draco wants to roll his eyes, because that was just nonsense, but stops when he sees Pansy’s gaze staring ahead at the bottles that line the wall. She had said it with such confidence, like she immediately knew, and Draco wondered exactly what’s going through his friend’s mind.
“Are you alright?” She straightens, posture rigid and icy, lips pressing together as she refocuses on the conversation.
“No, none of us are alright.” Her tone is sour as she knocks back the rest of her drink.
Draco isn’t quite good with reassurance, but he knows Pansy enough not to get overly sentimental.
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” He does not accuse, tone neutral, letting her decide how she’d like to steer the conversation.
“I am, but I’m really not in the mood for the touchy-feely nonsense today.” Draco couldn’t agree more. “But, if you want advice based on what I think, you should put a label on it sooner rather than later. She’s going to keep pushing, and if you really want this, don’t let her box you out.”
If Draco takes the time to piece everything together, what Pansy says makes sense. Granger keeps even her closest friends at an arm's length, and she never talks about her parents.
“And what if you’re wrong, and she wants space?”
Pansy scoffs, signaling the bartender for another drink.
“Firstly, I’m never wrong,” She sips her fresh martini. “Secondly, if you give her space now, you’ll never see her again.”
The thought sobers him immediately, the idea of never seeing her again. He rolls his glass around the bar, watching the ice melt and slide, stomach rolling at what could possibly be filling her thoughts.
“You really like her, don’t you?” Pansy asks, face serious, but not cold.
Draco hesitates. She’d already ratted him out to his mother, and he doesn’t love the idea of being vulnerable with anyone, so he’ll keep it short.
“Yes, and if you say anything else to my mother I’m tattling about your little affair with Longbottom to Theo and Blaise.” Pansy huffs, haughty look right back as if it never left in the first place.
“I technically didn’t tell your mother anything, I can’t help that she’s clever.” A smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth and Draco can’t help but return it.
He closes their tab, and he tries to prepare himself for what he’s going to say to Granger tomorrow.
Granger looks fucking dreadful on Friday. Draco sees right through her muggle makeup and glamor bullshit.
She looks just as she did back in school, just like she did months ago when he was trying his damndest to stay away from her. A mixture of anger and concern swirls inside of him. Merlin, she is such an idiot.
An idiot who’s brilliant and beautiful.
“You look terrible.” This is the first thing he says to her, because he can’t hold back his anger, his utter frustration at the pain she continues to cause herself.
“I’ve been busy.” Granger doesn’t even look at him, staring ahead with narrowed eyes, unrelenting.
“Yes, as you’ve mentioned.” He tries to keep his tone even. “I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing you this weekend then?”
Draco wants to shake her, pull her from whatever sandpit has managed to suck her in and try to suffocate her. His wants are selfish, purely because she’s supposed to represent something, the impenetrable mind of the Golden Trio. That someone as good as her could care for someone the likes of him.
“You certainly don’t have to, I’m sure you’re busy as well.” She says primly, finally turning to him, eyes so worn, so tired.
“Are you staying on campus today?” Don’t let her box you out. Draco changes tactics. “Actually, you’re not, I’m taking you home.”
He flips her bag onto his other shoulder to wrap an arm around her and move her forward.
“You can’t just–!”
“I can, and I am. You can run back later for all I care, but right now we’re leaving.”
Granger fights him for a few seconds before relaxing into his side, truly showing how tired she must be. It worries him.
Once he gets her back to the flat, he goes to make tea, then because he’s fairly certain she’s been neglecting all of her needs, he makes her a sandwich. Draco makes sure to stare her down to ensure she eats every bite, Granger avoids his eyes while doing so.
She needs a good chastising, he doubts Potter or Weasel are any good at ensuring she follows the rules. If he’s learned anything, she’s quite good at getting her way.
Draco knows more than anything that she needs sleep, he carries her kicking and scratching back into her bedroom, quite amused as he tucks her in. What a funny thought, tucking Hermione Granger into bed. She, however, doesn’t seem amused at all.
“You’re ridiculous.” Granger accuses with narrowed eyes as he walks around the bed to slide in next to her.
“You’re one to talk, have you managed to sleep at all this week?”
“I slept three hours last night.” It’s practically a mumble as it leaves her lips, he leans in close to try and hear her better.
“Three hours for the entire week?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I’ve seen our lab grade, if that says anything about the rest of your classes, you don’t need that much time to study.”
Draco means this as a jab, goading her into a snappy response that lights a fire behind her eyes and sparks from the tips of her curls. It’s his favorite, teasing her into utter annoyance then kiss her until she’s breathless.
Hermione does not respond however, eyes unfocused as she stares at the ceiling, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly under the blanket. His eyes widen in his own state of panic, pulling his body in close to her, repeating her name as he caresses her face, trying to pull her out before she can fall too deep.
He’s seen her like this only twice since they started their little affair. Hermione doesn’t wake up screaming from her nightmares like he had always imagined she would. No. She hyperventilates, arms and legs stuck rigidly at her sides, little whimpers pouring from lips sealed so tight.
It’s like they’re reliving it all over again. Between the strikes of the cruciatis curse, when her screaming stops, laid still on the hardwood, tears streaming from her eyes as her body twitches. They don’t speak about it, haven’t spoken about it, he doesn’t know if he should even bring it up.
“Granger?” Draco tries again, voice weak and soft, letting his fingers run over the warmth of her cheeks and forehead.
Hermione blinks at him, eyes focusing on his face, lower lip wobbling in a way that makes him frown. This is how he wakes her from nightmares, with soft touches and gentle words until she comes back to herself. He doesn’t really know how to be soft, he doesn’t know how to be gentle, but he would do anything to stop the heartbreaking sadness that pools in her eyes.
“You should probably go.” She says, taking him by surprise, and she tries to pull her face neutral.
Pansy’s words find him again. If you give her space now, you’ll never see her again.
“I’ll go once I’m sure you’re asleep.” He tells her, willing his voice to sound stern.
“So, you’re just going to stare at me?”
“I know you well enough that you’ll get out of bed as soon as I leave.”
“I’m not tired.” Granger challenges, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout, and he almost laughs. Fine, if that’s the game she wants to play, if she says she’s not tired, then he’ll have to tire her out himself.
“I can help with that.” Draco promises, leaning down to press his lips to hers, warmth seeping into his bones at the feeling of her relaxing into his kiss.
Draco gets to work undressing her, delighted as she sits up and helps him take off her jumper. He can’t help how his cock twitches at the sight of her bare skin, dotted with little patches of freckles and dashes of scars leftover from war.
This is about her, for her, to show her his devotion. If she’d let him, then Draco would make her completely his, make an altar of her body and kneel eagerly to worship. Granger has her eyes screwed shut, body rigid as he tries to prove his devotion, and he doesn’t need to ask to know that she’s disappeared into her head.
“Come back to me.” Draco asks, missing the sultry little witch she becomes when he brings her pleasure. “Let me make you feel good.”
His lips skim over the soft skin of her navel, and her eyes open in exasperation, annoyance sparking behind the shining mahogany of her irises as she tries to pull him back up her body.
There’s his girl. There’s the Hermione Granger he knows.
Draco tries not to show his amusement, and he’s going to severely push his luck.
“Nice try, lay back down.” He tells her, keeping his tone authoritative as if that has any impact on her whatsoever. Granger raises a brow.
“I promise there’s no need for that.” She argues, trying to snap her thighs shut.
Whatever pathetic excuse of cunnilingus she’d experienced before had clearly left her disappointed, as Draco saw there was plenty of need, if not for her then for him. He was starving for her, needed so desperately to know her taste.
“I assure you there is.” He promises, fingers finding her clit just how she likes, trying to remind her that he’d never failed to give her pleasure before, that he would do anything to make her feel good.
Hermione’s lashes flutter, tension easing from her body as she melts into his touch. She’s so perfect, so wet for him, Draco easily slides two fingers inside her. He crooks his fingers, searching for a brilliant little spot within her that makes her eyes practically roll back in her head.
She lets out the prettiest little mewl for him as he works her body, and his cock strains in her trousers, impatient from hearing his favorite sound. That would have to wait, Hermione had needs that needed attending to.
Once Draco is sure that she’s relaxed and enjoying herself, he slips down between her thighs, eager as he watches his fingers disappearing within the gleaming wetness of her cunt. She’s so pretty it’s painful, making his mouth water as he kisses and nips at her thigh.
“My sweet girl,” He murmurs, nipping at the inside of her thigh, “Let me taste just how sweet you are.”
Draco wastes no time, wrapping his lips around her clit, moan stuck in his throat at the earthy taste of her. She’s a dream, her arousal his own amortentia, and he wants to replace his fingers with his tongue to drink it straight from the source. Hermione’s body goes limp against the sheets, head dropping back into the pillow as he works her. He refuses to relent, devouring her, studying every sound and twitch her body made for him.
Draco plays her body carefully, practicing to see what she likes, letting his tongue drag, swirl in circles, trace over her folds, but she practically squeals for him when he sucks on her clit.
He adjusts the curve of his fingers, still searching for that elusive spot as his tongue drags over her clit. Granger twitches suddenly.
“Oh fuck– yes— please right there –” She begs, voice breathy as her words melt together. Her walls flutter around his fingers, slick spilling into his palm as he stares at her in awe. Draco had managed to find it, and he certainly wasn’t going to disappoint her now.
“Such a good girl, my perfect, perfect witch.” He praises. “You tasted just as sweet as I imagined.”
Granger whines for him, body twitching as he continues to press against the spot deep inside her, thighs clamping around his head and he smiles against the mess he’s made of her.
“You’re not going to deny me the taste of you anymore, are you?” He challenges, eyes finding hers, cock throbbing at the delightful way her eyes glaze over.
Her pretty lips part, but no sound comes out, and he lets his gaze drop to the rapid rise and fall of her chest, breasts heavy as they follow in movement.
“Answer me, Hermione.” He nips at her inner thigh and she yelps.
“No!” Hermione whines, a shine pooling in the corners of her eyes, cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. “Whatever you want, please–”
Draco presses his lips against her again, watching her head loll back.
“Fuck– oh my god –” Her thighs tighten around his head, but her hands tug in his hair to pull him away, her little body nearly spasming and he tries not to smirk at her.
He can’t help it, she’s so, so beautiful that he lifts his head to stare at her in wonder. It should be impossible to be so perfect, but if anyone could achieve it, then it would be her. Hermione glowed, radiating in her pleasure, taking his breath away as that familiar possessive feeling curls in his chest.
“You’re doing so well, darling.” He encourages. “Such a good girl, letting me take care of you, do you feel so good?”
“Yes– ” Granger gasps. “So good— please –”
“Are you going to come for me? Always so pretty when you come for me.” She’s close, he’s seen her on the brink enough times to relish in the desperate begging that came on the edge of her climax. “I think I’ll finish you with my tongue, would you like that, darling?”
“Please – yes, Draco please —” His name is silver and sparkling on her tongue, his heart stuttering in his chest as he tilts his head back down between her thighs.
Her cunt gleams, pink folds so pretty as they shine for him, his hand drenched with the slick of her arousal. Draco decides to put her out of her misery, wrapping his lips around her clit in the way he’s learned she likes and sucks. She shatters instantly.
Hermione shrieks, the walls of her cunt seizing his fingers, little sobs escaping her lips and her body does something he’s never seen from her before. Fluid bursts from her cunt, drenching him, flooding his mouth and coating his hand. Draco groans at the taste of her, pressing his hips into the mattress for some semblance of relief as his cock throbs incessantly at him.
It was glorious, more perfect than anything he ever could have concocted in his fantasies. She’s ruined his clothes, soaked her own sheets, his lips and chin sticky with her and he couldn’t be happier. Her little body writhes with her orgasm, and Draco does everything in his power to draw it out for as long as possible, coaxing her down from her high as she twitches with aftershocks.
Only once her body stills does he remove himself from her, taking extra care to press his lips into every inch of her golden flesh that he can reach. Words cannot describe the intensity of what he feels, yet they spill from his mouth anyway.
“You did so, so good for me, sweet witch.” Draco murmurs, whispering each praise into the softness of her skin, smiling at the dazed look that graces her pretty face.
“You were positively stunning, what a pretty mess you made for me.” He tells her, only to watch the blood drain from her face and her eyes widen in embarrassment, dropping to see what her body had done.
Draco can’t help the little laugh that escapes him as she takes everything in.
“Malfoy–” Draco nearly frowns at the sound of his surname on her lips again. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry–I’ve never—I mean that’s never happened to me before!”
Granger’s hands shake, genuine tears welling in her eyes, and Draco’s heart breaks all over again at her panic. He moves quickly to soothe, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her. He makes sure to tell her how lucky he is.
And he really is. Lucky and undeserving of her affection and her pleasure, unworthy to stand in front of the golden glow of her.
“It’s all over you! And–and you had your face– !” Hermione shouts in aggravation, sadness melting as annoyance of his nonchalance takes over. He delights in it, smirking at her like the cat who got the cream.
He lets his tongue dart out, savoring what’s left of her on his lips, watching her eyes widen at the motion.
“Yes, like I said, quite lucky to have tasted you.”
“This isn’t funny!” Granger snaps, posture straightening, fixing him with a glare that makes his cock even harder.
“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s incredibly sexy.” Draco admits, catching her hand as she goes to smack him on the shoulder, pressing it against his erection to make her aware of just how much he enjoyed her.
“I could drown in you,” He mutters through kisses against her neck, “Next time I’ll have you sit right on my face, and you can use me however you please.”
Draco wonders if he’s gone too far, it took her this long to let him eat her cunt, he imagines she’ll need to warm up to the idea of riding his face. However, when he pulls back to look at her, Granger is looking at him with darkened eyes.
He’s sparked her interest, smiling as she yanks on his jumper and almost laughing as she uses it to wipe off his face so she can pull him in for a bruising kiss. There’s his naughty little witch, the woman who took what she wanted without hesitation.
“I think you’ve ruined me,” He drawls, feeding her fire, greedily drinking in the sight of her tits jiggling as he pulls her into his lap. “I can’t even wank without thinking of you.”
Granger pulls his cock from his trousers, making Draco hiss as her soft hand wraps around him. Fucking Salazar he would never get used to this. She eyes him hungrily and he really does wonder how he got so lucky.
Draco thinks one of his favorite sights in the world is watching Hermione ride him, so wet and perfect as he sinks into her, watching with rapt attention as a strangled moan leaves her lips and her eyes roll back to let him know that he’s already found that special little spot within her.
He holds her up, putting her in the perfect position to grind against him, trying not to lose himself in her heat as he sucks bruises into her neck. Granger always healed them afterwards, but he lives off their little moments in bed right after when she’s claimed just for him.
It’s only after a few moments that Hermione tries to rise to her knees, sliding up the length of his cock instead of the push and pull he knows she prefers. Draco tightens his grip on her hips, pulling her back down so she’s fully seated on him, holding her still.
“What are you doing, kitten?”
“I—” Granger stutters and he studies her face, taking in the heavy flush of her cheeks and shine of perspiration on her skin. “I want to make you feel good.”
His little minx tries to distract him by pulling him in for another kiss, and while he indulges, he does not loosen his grip. Draco helps her rock her hips, giving her the back and forth that she needs.
“Draco–” She whines, small hands pushing at his chest, trying to pull herself off of him.
It hits him all at once, a coy smile turning up the corner of his lips. Draco was well acquainted with the look on her face, with the way her lashes fluttered, eyes glazed over, pretty pink lips parted. His sweet little witch was already going to come again.
“Oh dear, are you close again? Is that what you’re trying to stop?” Draco teases, watching as her blush spreads to her chest. He tilts her hips forward to slant against his, angling himself just the right way inside her and watches her eyes roll back.
Ah, there it is. Just the spot he was looking for.
“That’s it, take what you need, darling.” He coos, keeping control over himself as he feels her flutter around him so beautifully. Pretty purple bruises are beginning to form along her neck and collarbone, spiking something sharp and primal in him.
“Such a good girl you are, and you’re my good girl aren’t you?” Draco mutters against the plush of her lips. “ All mine . I’m the only one that makes you like this, isn’t that right?”
Hermione is his little witch, it was him that got to have her orgasms, and he was going to take as many as he could get. The awful, possessive words of mine, mine, mine, run through his head.
“Draco–please, I’m so close–” She gasps, begging so beautifully that he doesn’t hesitate to reach between their bodies and find her clit with his fingers.
“That’s my girl, can you give me another one?” Draco kisses her right as she comes, clamping down on him and making him groan against her lips. His head spins as magic sparks from her, mesmerized as she glows, aura golden as it fissures from her.
Hermione goes nearly limp on top of him, body curling inward as her cunt continues to spasm. Draco flips them over, watching her in awe as she continues to come down from her climax. An idea forms in his head, deciding that he’s finally going to get that elusive third orgasm from her,
“Hermione,” He murmurs. “I want you to listen to me carefully, darling. Can you do that for me?”
Pretty brown eyes open to find his, dazed and glassy, but she nods. He can’t help but smile, her chestnut curls wild against the pillowcase.
“I’m going to fuck you just like this, just how I like, and because you’re such a good girl, you’re going to come again for me.” Draco’s smile turns into a grin as her eyes go wide, suddenly very coherent with what he’s saying.
“I can’t– ”
“You can, and you will.” He says, voice dipping low as he begins to shallowly thrust in her again. “You’re going to give me three.”
His sweet little witch lets out a whimper, lashes fluttering as he pumps into her.
“There it is.” He knew she could handle it, knew that she would be perfect. “So perfect just like this, you were made for my cock–”
Draco finally gives into the demand of his body, fucking her in ernest, groaning at the slick mess of her cunt as he slides in and out. She’s dripping, spilling down her thighs and smearing across his skin as her legs wrap around him for support.
Hermione begs, voice breaking, pleading and it’s making him lose his mind.
“Fuck Draco–please, please, pleaseplease –” Her words cut off into a sharp gasp, nails sinking into his shoulders, surely drawing blood. The sting spurns him on, driving his pace faster.
This is what he wants. He wants her like this whenever she’ll allow it, not just in between classes. Draco wants Hermione in his bed, wants to see her lovely body tangled in his sheets, to wake her up with his head between her thighs.
Draco wants her . He wants to see her more than just three days a week, to wake her from every wretched nightmare that plagues her, wants to claim her, to stare down any fucking moron that eyes her in public and know that it means something, that he’s not just some bloke that stays over some nights.
“Draco–I can’t, it’s too much–” Granger gasps.
“You will.” He snaps his hips, pace relentless as he pounds into her. “You’re going to give me one more, let me see it, darling.”
She’s panting below him, scratching at his shoulders as if she’s still trying to hold back, tears welling in her eyes. Draco has to have it, has to give her another one, he needs it to be what sends him over the edge.
“Let me feel you come on my cock, I need it. Hermione, I need it –” The words spill from him as Hermione finally shrieks, cunt spasming and squeezing him, another wave of arousal bursting from her– perfectly wet, sticky, hot –
Draco finally gives in, white pleasure fissuring through his vision, body going taunt before finally snapping and spilling inside her as she writhes. Granger’s cunt milks his cock, pulsing and dragging out his orgasm– leaving him dry, completely wrung out. His body melts on top of hers, breathless but making sure he doesn’t crush her at the same time.
The room is quiet, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing and the pounding of his heart. Draco winces as he pulls his softening cock from her, admiring the glossy mess of her thighs, the way his spend seeps from her and pools in the sheets to mix with her own fluids. He pulls her into his side as he mutters a cleansing charm.
Hermione is pliant against him, warm and soft as her eyelids begin to droop. He’d been successful in tiring her out. It’s adorable as she tries to focus on him through the heavy blink of her lashes, his heart stutters annoyingly.
“I want this.” Draco murmurs into the soft curve of her jaw, relaxing as her breathing evens out and she finally, finally falls asleep. “I want you anyway you’ll let me, even when you’re being a wretched swot and make me try much too hard on our lab.”
He lets the pad of his finger ghost across the smattering of freckles that dance across her nose, watching the gentle rise and fall of her naked chest.
“Let me have you.” He quietly pleads to her. “I’ll take good care of you. You can make all the terrible decisions that you want, I just want to offer you more.”
Hermione curls her body into his, hands wrapping around his arm as if to reassure he’s there. Draco pulls her tight against him in response.
Draco takes his own little nap, only waking up when the blasted orange menace jumps on his feet. It takes all his will power not to kick the damn cat, holding back because Granger will surely beat him to a pulp if anything happens to her precious pet.
“Enough.” Draco whispers loudly to the beast, “Can’t you see that your mother is sleeping?”
Unsurprisingly, the cat says nothing. It’s little ears twitch before hopping off the bed and back through the bedroom door. Draco takes a moment to roll over, looking down at Hermione’s sleeping form.
Even in the dark she was a masterpiece, the golden warmth of her shining through the shadows that painted her. He admires her nude form, little purple bruises dotting along her throat and breasts, pride and possessiveness swirl within him. Draco leaves before any more blood can rush to his cock.
He grabs the extra set of clothing from her dresser drawer and pads down to her living room, the orange menace seemingly waiting for him on the couch. Draco rolls his eyes, grabbing The Bloody Chamber from where it sits on the coffee table. He’s barely had any time to read it lately, so he pops open right where he left off, heart aching at the smooth cursive of Hermione’s writing as it pops off the page.
Hermione wrote of werewolves, of their lore and their differences in the wizarding world. She wrote of women, and their place in this world. The word autonomy continues to loop through her writing, of the girl’s decision to join the wolf in the end and the power she takes from it.
There is choice in the world, even in the most dire situations where the only options are death or uniting with a wolf. What kind of power can be taken from the tender paws of a wolf?
Oh, to be willingly consumed, Hermione writes, To be devoured and savored.
She wishes for immaculate flesh to appease a carnivore, to become a wolf herself.
A brilliant witch, she is.
Draco snaps from his reverence in her writing when she appears in the living room, hair wild and eyes squinting, dressed in only a long pajama shirt. His heart warms at the sight of her, of her sleepy voice.
Granger immediately tries to chase him out again, going on and on about needing to study (which Draco doesn’t buy one bit). It’s infuriating and he loses his temper, tired of being pushed farther and farther away from her. She meets him blow for blow, lips pressed into a tight line as she stares up at him.
Draco breaks.
“You can–” He hesitates, “You can talk to me, if something’s keeping you from sleeping. It seemed like you had been doing well, up until this week.”
Granger goes on and on about the fucking end of the semester again and Draco feels like he’s loosing his mind.
“I’m sick of this! Are you breaking this off or not?” Granger shouts, and that makes him blanche.
“No! Why would I break things off?”
“Because you never really liked me in the first place!” She cries, “I’m self-destructive and a swot, remember?”
“If I recall correctly, I did say I liked that about you.” Draco retorts.
“While you were fucking me!”
“Oh, so just because I said it during sex, I must not mean it?” He practically dumps the tea he’s made into the cups, watching it splash onto the counter. “I mean everything I say to you.”
Draco looks her directly in the eye
“Everything.”
And everything freezes inside of him when she stammers the words every relationship before–
She was hurting, she was scared, she was pushing him away because of that fear of losing him. Draco tries to breathe, tries to think of what he can possibly say to reassure her that he doesn’t ever want to leave her side.
“I’m not worth any more of your time, Draco. It’s a waste.” Hermione murmurs softly.
He’s across the counter and wrapping his arms around her without any second thoughts. He can’t hide behind his fear of vulnerability, she needed him, she needed to know.
“You’re insufferable, and you drive me fucking batty.” He sucks in a breath. “You’re careful, precise, and extremely detailed. I’ve never seen anyone absorb information like you do, nonetheless actually understand it.”
Her eyes begin to shine, but Draco carries on.
“You’re cheeky and clever, your mouth is sin itself, and I could suffocate between your thighs and die happily.” He tells her honestly.
“I squirted on your face.” She grumbles and Draco can’t help the laugh that breaks from him.
There she is. His funny bird, his cheeky witch, full of life and crass words.
“Alright,” He concedes. “Drown between your thighs and die happy.”
Draco can’t help but kiss her, to feel the softness of her plush lips, the warmth that emanates from her. He pulls back to admire her, her bedhead, her freckles, her rumpled shirt.
“I like you.” Hermione whispers and his heart practically stops in his chest. “It frightens me, after–after everything. And I’m supposed to be brave, but I can’t decide if bravery is vulnerability or protection. I feel like I’ve done everything possible to scare you away, yet you’re still here.”
Tears have finally spilled, her lashes thick and wet, her vulnerability is aching yet everything he needs from her. He’s no good with feelings, but he’ll try for her. Always.
“I like you.” Draco tells her. “And I will not let you chase me away, I’m not here because it’s convenient to see you three times a week in a shared class. You are not just a convenience.”
He takes her back to bed, as he’s very certain that she has not properly recovered from her few days without sleep. Draco pulls the blankets back over her, bringing her tea, and ensuring that her little orange menace will not be waking her up.
“Are we giving this a proper go?” Hermione’s tired voice echoes from the depths of her covers, he can’t help but smile, admiring her halo of curls splayed on the pillow.
“If you’ll have me.” Draco responds, as if he hadn’t been wishing for this for weeks.
“Are you going to be this nice all the time?” Her lashes flutter heavily when he casts out the lights and he scoffs.
“Do you want me to be nice to you all the time?” He would be if that’s what she wanted. It would take some practice to smile more in public, but he would try if it would make her happy.
“No, I like it when you save it just for me.” Hermione says after a moment, a sleepy smile blooming across her lips.
Draco wraps himself around her, pressing his face into her neck, smiling as he takes in her comforting scent of lavender and linen. Label finally assigned, he would take her out to dinner with his friends and watch them bask in her quick wit, buy her coffee and watch her light up as she drank it, kiss her right in front of that idiot Michael and let it be known that she was his.
“Only for you. It’s only ever been for you.”