“Oh, bollocks .”
“Language, dear,” Narcissa said, lazily admonishing her son. “That’s no way for a well-bred young man to communicate. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Draco showed her the letter from Headmistress McGonagall.
“Congratulations, my darling, sweet boy!” She proceeded to pinch his cheeks, which Draco loathed. “You’re to be Head Boy!”
“Only because McGonagall wants to send a message about house unity, and moving forward, and second chances, and all that Gryffindor shite!”
He ignored her. “And that insufferable, swotty, talking wig is going to be Head Girl! I have to share a living space with her the entire year.”
Narcissa raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Do I need to say it?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s the most painfully obvious thing in the entire world, but go ahead, Mother.”
“If you befriended this girl, or at least got along with her tolerably well, it would do wonders for our family’s name. Because you know, Draco, the Malfoy name—”
“Doesn’t carry the weight it once did. I bloody know , Mother.”
Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her son. “Is it worth my time to tell you yet again, to watch your tongue?”
“Probably not. I’m going swear, Mother. And if I’m going to have to share a room with the Mudblood Barracuda, I’m going to swear a lot .” What could he say? Aristocrat or not, it just sounded better when he swore. Why should peasants like Weasley get to have all the fun?
Narcissa’s eyes widened. “At the very least, let me recommend that you exercise caution when using the ‘M word,’ Draco. You don’t want to invite polite society’s ire anymore than our family already has.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Lovely, Mother. Such a clever way of saying my father was a murdering, raping, lying, cheating bastard.”
Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Head Boy or not, I can still send you to your room.”
“Good luck with that. I’m going to start packing now. My clothes are too nice and too expensive to trust packing to the last minute.”
Narcissa snarled. “Ponce.”
Draco sat patiently in the private carriage reserved for the Head Boy and Head Girl, waiting for Granger to come in all perfectly pressed, her brain recently bloated from memorizing every single word of every single textbook on her curriculum this year.
He didn’t have to wait long. The Gryffindor princess made her bloody arrival, but she wasn’t as he remembered her. She was riding high on the wave of hero worship, much like the dunces she called her best friends. Draco knew of “The Twat Who Lived” and the “King Weasley”—and for fuck’s sake, it was his own doing the knob had that knickname — Sticking it in every appreciative hole. The last thing the Malfoy heir expected was to see The Golden Girl also taking advantage of wizard Britain’s naive willingness to don War Hero Goggles.
Draco didn’t recognize her arm candy, but he most definitely wasn’t a student. He was older, muscular, and possessively grabbing her arse under her skirt.
“Holy shit, that skirt is short,” the gray-eyed Slytherin muttered to himself. Obviously, he was going to look at her arse if she was going to parade about in clothes that an 18-year-old witch wouldn’t mind being caught dead in. She left him with no other option, really.
Mystery man took it upon himself to shove Granger up against the carriage and wrap her legs around his waist. He practically dry humped her there as they said their goodbyes. Mouths sloppily connected with breathy moans barely escaping.
“Ahem,” Draco interrupted, though his voyeuristic side could have continued watching. “Sorry to be a cockblock, but we must be taking off.”
The tall, handsome man with exotic, mediterranean features scowled at the rude interruption. He turned back to Hermione. “So I’ll see you the next time you come through Hogsmeade?”
“Um, yeah. Sure…” She had already forgotten his name.
“Right.” She crashed her lips on his once more, apologizing for her misstep. “Ferret face, when’s the next Hogsmeade weekend?”
“How the bloody fuck should I know? I, like you, have been a Head student for all of ten minutes now.”
She rolled her eyes, “I’ll owl you.”
Thaddeus beamed at her, his brown eyes full of adoration. Draco waited until he was out of sight to speak. “So. You’re a whore now.”
“I’m an adult woman, in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds, completely in tune with my sexuality, Malfoy. I know you pretentious purebloods have your prudish, double standards when it comes to sex, but I own my body.”
“Blah, blah, blah. All I heard was ‘I’m a whore, now.’”
“Oh, I get it. You haven’t gotten laid. All the prospects dried up after you were ousted as a Death Eater? I thought you would have some obligatory hole that you were supposed to procreate with by now.”
Draco sputtered. “I beg your fucking pardon, Granger. A gentleman never kisses and tells, and it’s not any of your business anyway.”
“Blah, blah, blah. All I heard was ‘I wank three times a day now that no one will fuck me.’”
His face turned red. “I...I... Goddammit , Granger! Why do you have to be such a bitch?”
“Did I hurt your feelings?”
“ No . I’m a Malfoy. Malfoys don’t get their feelings hurt.”
“Whatever. Just make sure to stay in your own room when you’re having a toss, Malfoy. I don’t fancy finding your spunk all over our living quarters.”
“I had no idea you had such a crass mouth.”
“Oh, my mouth is crass alright,” she said with a wink, hoping to make him even more uncomfortable than he already was.
Draco turned an ungodly shade of bright pink.
“What?” he sneered.
“You’ve never had a blow job. Wow,” she sounded stunned. “I knew those pureblood princesses were uptight, but damn.”
Draco sputtered some more. “I...I have had so many blow jobs , Granger.” He began to pepper his lies with unconvincing little barks of nervous laughter. “So many mouths on my cock, you can’t even imagine. Better mouths than yours. Crass bitch.”
Hermione grinned wickedly. “You see, Malfoy, that’s the thing. I can imagine it, because, unlike you, I actually have been involved in the process. And for your information, you’d be lucky to have me. They don’t call me the Brightest Witch of My Age for nothing.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re right. After all, you never do seem to shut that trap of yours. I guess the only way to shut you up is to stuff a dick in it.”
Their fight began to heat up. So obviously , Hermione’s knickers were soaked and Draco had a hard on.
“Damn, it could be weeks until that Hogsmeade weekend,” she quickly changed the subject. “I hope I packed enough batteries. I just can’t see fucking anyone at this school. Everyone is so young. ”
Draco smirked. “That’s right, Granger. I forget that you’re a year older than the rest of us. Shame that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re an old hag, Granger.”
“It’s called experienced, Malfoy. I can’t help it if I’ve always been attracted to older men. I wonder if we’ll be getting any new, younger professors…”
“That would be what gets you off, Granger. Maybe you’ll finally take being a prissy little teacher’s pet to the next level.”
With a crooked smile, she said, “Well, I did hear your old mate, Montague, was going up for the DADA position…”
“You can’t fuck Montague.” His voice was stern, and words curt.
She laughed incredulously. “Oh, I can’t , can I? And why is that?”
He honestly had no idea. He just didn’t want her to. “Call me sentimental, Granger, but I’d rather keep him as a friend. That will not be possible if I walk in on you guys in the loo with your crass little mouth on his cock.”
“Who’s not to say it’s his mouth between my legs? I believe in equality, after all.”
Holy hormones. It was a testament to how much he detested the girl that he was still dedicated to their fight. Imagining Granger giving and receiving oral sex gave him the most inexplicably painful boner of his life.
“You know, Pansy, Astoria, and a couple of other girls from your house would talk in the bathrooms how you were some sex god. But I just don’t see it. You’re so stiff. With your poncy clothes and consistently upright posture. Even when you’re on a broom, you’re so... stiff.”
He was stiff alright. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Granger. But I kind of want to fuck you right now.”
She snorted. “As if that would ever happen.”
He smirked. “ You’re the one waxing poetic about my abundant stiffness.”
She grimaced. “ Ugh . You are just the most...the most...you’re so…”
“Stiff?” he offered, with his characteristic smirk. Smirk, smirk, smirk. Smirky, smirk, smirk. Take that, Granger .
The carriage came to a halt as did their battle of the sexes. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall, greeted the heads. Her stern nature quickly deflated Draco’s raging hardon.
“Oh, good. You’re both here. I will need your assistance in a matter of some sensitivity. We have just received a Patronus from Minister Shacklebolt. It appears there is to be a new law implicated that will affect every Hogwarts student in their seventh and eighth year. I am counting on you both to ensure that whenever the students inevitably start to riot, the damage will be somewhat mitigated.”
“What sort of law, Professor?” Hermione asked.
Her face fell. “I suppose I should tell both of you since you will also be affected. The war diminished the number of witches and wizards in Britain dramatically. So in an effort to regain our numbers, the Ministry has declared that all unmarried or affianced witches and wizards between the ages of seventeen and forty will be forced to marry a partner that has been chosen for them by an objective method to ensure compatibility.”
“Oh, Thank Merlin. I’m already promised to Astoria Greengrass,” Draco sighed in relief.
“About that. Carson Greengrass dissolved the contract today and she is now betrothed to Evan Montague, as you remember, he’s Graham’s little brother.” McGonagall explained, incredibly tactless.
“Well. That sucks tremendously,” Draco intoned. “What exactly is this ‘objective method’ the Ministry is using to ensure we get paired with someone compatible?”
“The Sorting Hat,” she answered.
Hermione howled in laughter. “Well that old rag is one of the most inconsistent relics of the past.”
“And it saved your life, twice. I would suggest you show it some respect, Miss Granger.”
“Sorry, Proff—Headmistress,” Hermione regained her composure. “It’s just that the hat put Snape in Slytherin and Pettigrew in Gryffindor. It nearly hatstalled on me and hatstalled on your and Professor Flitwick. How can we trust this with our future spouse? And furthermore, you mentioned under forty...Does this mean we will bring in some, um, more mature suitors to this sorting ?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “ Whore ,” he coughed.
“I like men , Malfoy. Not boys,” she scowled, “just like you look prissy aristocrats who are under contract to have sex with you.”
“Yeah, well. You and Graham Montague have that in common, in case you were wondering.”
“Shut up both of you!” Professor McGonagall said. “Can I count on you two or not?”
They both shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah,” Hermione said.
“Sure,” Draco said.
“Good.” She fixed them with a mean glare. “ Please don’t make me regret putting you two together.”
“Professor,” Hermione asked, her voice suddenly sweet. “I was just wondering, as many of the eighth years are over the age of seventeen, will we get additional privileges? Visiting Hogsmeade beyond assigned weekends, perhaps?”
“She just wants to bone Theseus, Professor.”
“Thaddeus , you pointy little prat!”
“You sure about that?” He raised an eyebrow at her in a question.
She growled. Damn him. She actually wasn’t super duper 100% sure.
The Sorting Ceremony was the first ten minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Everyone hated everyone.
And of goddamned course, Draco and Hermione got paired together.
“This is fucking bullshit,” Hermione huffed. “I’m so not marrying you, let alone fucking you. Or, proposition. We marry, we have an open marriage. I sleep with whoever I want, you sleep with whoever you want.”
He rolled his eyes, bored listening to her shrill propositions. “You are marrying me and fucking me, and there’s not a damned thing either of us can do about it. Unless you’d rather have your wand snapped in half.”
She narrowed her eyes and muttered under her breath something about “ know what I’d rather snap in half .”
“Oh, come on, Granger. Just this morning you fantasizing about how stiff I am. We have to make several babies together, so this is basically a dream come true for you. I know I’m a bit young for you, but my cock still works.”
“First of all, how dare you? Second of all, I wasn’t talking about your cock. I was talking about all of that,” Her hands circled his whole body. “You’re too pretentious, you’re no fun, at all. And the fucking suits. What is with the fucking suits? Are you training to be an evil CEO or something?”
Draco let several seconds of silence build between them. “ Neh , you were so talking about my cock.”
Hermione’s eye began to twitch. “You are so...so... gaahhhh ! I can’t do this. I can’t marry you.”
“I’m so glad the Sorting Hat decided to give me a level-headed, chill wife who definitely doesn’t blow things out of proportion and create unnecessary drama. Relax, princess. I’m not exactly thrilled about this either. Now…” he straightened the collar on his shirt like he meant business. “If you’ll go in your room and take off your clothes, we can get started on this baby-making thing.”
In a bold, Gryffindor, intimidation tactic, she started stripping in front of him. “Sure, Malfoy. Let’s do this.” Her tie was already on the ground as she started unbuttoning her shirt, freeing her red lace-clad breasts.
It was working. Draco just stood there in shock.
She raised a haughty eyebrow. “Should I start without you, Malfoy, or do you plan on removing your clothes too?”
He gaped, wide-eyed at his future wife. Not wanting to ruin his chances with whatever her crazy bitch mood she was in would let him get away with, he began scrambling to remove his clothes until he stood before her in just his boxers. “Alright, princess. Let’s do this thing.”
She took a step towards him. “Oh, we’re doing it, alright, Malfoy. You and I. We’re going to do it.”
“Yup,” he said, enunciating the ‘p’ with a pop. “I’m finally going to shag you stupid, Granger. A little late, I know, but better late than never.”
Playing coy, all but her thong panties and balconnet bra on, she began caressing herself. Kneading her breasts and trailing her hand down her apex. “You’re all talk. I’ve already gotten started.”
Fuck. She was playing him hard. He hadn’t even laid a hand on her and she was already fingering herself. At this rate, he was going to cream his pants before he so much as kissed her. “Nope. That’s not how this goes.” He crossed the room to her and grabbed her by the wrists.
Holy hormones. Maybe this aggressive Malfoy wasn’t so bad after all. Hermione shook herself to regain the upper hand. “I bet the second my lips are on your cock, you’re going to blow your load.”
Duuuurrrr… what ? Using every ounce of Slytherin, pureblood, and Malfoy cunning he possessed, he managed to keep his face blank. “I prefer my women with their mouths washed out, Granger. Yours might be a bit too dirty for me.”
She smirked, “Oh, Malfoy. All those years you called me filthy. If only you knew how filthy. You couldn’t handle it.”
He seethed. “So just do it, bitch. I dare you. Put your filthy little Mudblood mouth on my pristine, perfect, pureblood cock and prove me wrong.”
The one thing Gryffindors hated most was being called chicken. She practically ripped the silk boxers in half. The swot grinned as he gasped at his clothing being ruined.
“Oi, those were bloody expensii— ahhh ”
Her tongue trailed from his balls, up his shaft to his tip. His ‘perfect, pureblood cock,’ was her lollipop. She swirled her tongue around his head, feeling it tremble at her ministrations. When satisfied he was under her spell, she shoved the whole damn thing in her mouth, burying it deep down her throat.
Oh, my god, I’m doing it. I’m actually sucking Draco Malfoy’s cock. Okay, Hermione. Focus. No big deal. You’re just giving Malfoy a blow job. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.
Draco could barely string coherent thoughts together. Herm...Grang...fucking swot’s sucking my...ahhh...fuck yeah. Ahhh, Merlin, yes, you little swot. Just like that. Fucking...ahhhh...best...dare...ever!
Whilst sucking his cock, she started to get the worst lockjaw. Fucking cold ass castle. Fucking Scotland. Damn, I might have to start wearing my headgear again. “My turn. Eat my pussy.”
YEESSSS!!!! Panting heavily, Draco looked down at her through narrow slits. “You think I won’t do it. You think I won’t want to stick my tongue in your filthy twat.” He smirked, evilly. “Joke’s on you, princess. Quim happens to be my favorite food.” He fell on top of her, shifting her onto her back and yanking her thong down her legs.
“Nice to see you trim your snatch, Granger. I do so hate for anything to get in my way.”
“Just do it, you slimy little prick.”
“Slimy with your spit, Granger. Or have you forgotten already? I knew the ‘Brightest Witch of Her Age’ had to be hyperbole.”
“DO IT! ” She huffed. The fucking ferret talked too much. Thad...or was it Chad...Maybe David...Whatever his cock was, was DOWN TO FUCK. He didn’t bother with incessant chatter and ate pussy like a good boy.
“Eager, aren’t you?” He spread her legs and dove in.
She tasted like pussy. Not honey, or cinnamon, or any of those other barmy desserty flavors the bloody romance novels tried to advocate should be a woman’s taste. No. She tasted like good, old-fashioned pussy. Which was just fine with Draco, because he happened to love the taste of pussy.
She gripped his white blond locks and didn’t give two fucks about the color of his eyes. Hermione ground her snatch as hard as she could against his pointy face. Much to her delight, that aristocratic nose of his lined up nicely with her clit.
“Oh god, Malfoy!” She panted. “You’re finally good for something.”
“Shut up, bitch,” he said, momentarily pulling back before diving in again.
“You shut the fuck up and slip a damn finger or something up there. I need more.”
Never ceasing in his feasting, he held up his middle finger and flipped her off before sticking it, along with the index finger of the same hand, up her vagina.
“Fuck yes, harder,” she commanded. “Curl your fingers...yes. Like that.”
Draco came up for air and glared at her. “Will you shut your goddamned trap and focus on coming sometime this century, Granger? As much fun as I’m having down here, I would like to fuck you before we both turn gray.”
“Well, if you want me to come quickly, I can do it my goddamned self.”
For a moment he considered it. But he didn’t think he’d be able to witness her fingering herself without exploding all over the place. “ I’ll be the one making you come, Granger.” His tongue flicked over her clit as he spelled out the following:
Aaaannnd...she was coming.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHhhh,” she gripped his hair tightly as her juices dripped down his lips and chin. Because, obviously, she was a squirter. What else could she possibly be? There had to be juices.
“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK!” Draco almost screamed wiping her lady cum off his face. “Did you pee on me?”
“No, you arsehole. I squirt. Do you not know what the female ejaculation is?”
Suddenly intrigued, “Not all women do that, do they?”
“No. Only certain women, and they’re usually more in tune with their bodies. But I’m still horny. Are you going to fuck me or what?” She panted, still not satiated after her first orgasm.
“Oh, are you sure you want my 18-year-old cock? Will it offend you that my pubes haven’t turned gray yet?”
She grimaced. “You’re the fucking worst. Just fuck me or don’t, Malfoy.”
“If you would shut your mouth for once in your life , Granger, I will fuck you. But if you keep talking, I’m going to lose my erection.”
“Some men like talking during sex,” her voice became deep and throaty, “Oh, Draco. I’m so fucking wet. I need that thick hard cock of yours in my pussy. Let me taste myself on your lips.”
Maybe he didn’t mind it when she talked. He lined himself up in front of her entrance. “If you’re still capable of talking after I’m through with you, Granger, then I will consider it a failure on my part.”
Hermione chuckled. “You probably won’t even-- oh fuck !”
Draco shut his eyes as he sheathed himself inside her tight, wet, heat. Her velvet walls. Her scorching cavern. What-the-fuck-ever smut novels wanted to call it. He was getting laid. “Just stop talking and take my cock, princess.”
“Mmm. So you don’t want me to tell you this feels fucking delicious? That I want you pound me until I see stars? And that I want to ride you like a firebolt?” She eked out between moans and thrusts.
Draco was trying very hard not to blow his load right then. Between being inside her and hearing her talk, his dick was about to explode. “Say whatever you want, Granger,” he panted. “Just as long as you let me fuck you.” He pounded into her harder, as she requested. “ Gods ! Where the fuck do you come from with a pussy like that? It’s like you’re choking the life out of me.”
“If only,” she gasped.
“Merlin, you’re such a bitch.” He pounded into her even harder.
Stars were certainly seen. But she wasn’t done playing the dominant role. She flipped him over and slapped him across the face, with even more fervor than she had in third year. Slapping was most definitely a kink of hers.
He hissed through his teeth and smoldered up at her with stormy eyes. “Again,” he demanded.
As she complied with his request, again and again, at some point it occurred to her, that of all the filthy things she and Malfoy had done to each other in the past hour or so, they hadn’t kissed once. Sure, she’d sucked his cock, and fucked his face, and slapped him repeatedly as she rode him into the floor, but she had yet to kiss him.
She leaned over to capture his lips. It was hard and messy. Their tongues tangled and their teeth clashed. They kissed to bruise--to hurt. She broke the kiss with a sharp bite to his lower lip.
The metallic taste of his blood in her mouth tasted like victory.
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’re a bad girl, aren’t you, Granger?” He sat up and gripped her hair—her frizzy, ratty hair that would have made her look like a poodle with mange if her face wasn’t half-way okay to look at. The Daily Prophet, in their plethora of Golden Trio-knob-polishing pieces they wrote this summer, described her hair as ‘lustrous curls,’ ‘smooth ringlets,’ and ‘glossy waves.’ It was bollocks, all of it. Her hair was bushy, and frizzy, and in his first act as her husband, he would be introducing her to a little thing called ‘conditioner.’ But he really didn’t give a shit, right now.
He pulled at her hair and she leaned back, exposing her neck to him. He pulled the skin of her neck in between his lips and teeth. “Look at that. Your appalling hair is good for something.”
She upped the ante and socked him in the jaw, “Fuck you.”
He grinned darkly and flipped her over, in a position she couldn’t continue to attack him. Draco grabbed both of her hands with one hand and pinned them over her head. With his free hand, he continued to grgrab fistfulsf her hair. He was determined to gain dominance. “Temper. Temper. I thought you would like my face looking pretty on the wedding day. Your arse on the other hand, is another story.” He splayed his palm wide and gave her backside a hard smack.
“Again,” she pleaded.
“Gladly.” His hand came down and made a stinging impact once again with the soft skin of her arse. He rubbed the area in a gesture that was deceptively soothing. He inched his ministrations closer to the middle of her arse and ran his fingers over the area teasingly. “Has anyone ever fucked you here, little miss ‘comfortable with my sexuality’?” He smacked her arse again.
Hermione bit her lip in a whimper.
“Because it’s always good to know if you’re the first. Maybe not tonight, but at some point, I’m going to fuck this pert little arse and see if I can’t find that stick you’ve kept lodged up there all these years.”
She was almost ashamed to admit, considering she’s been flaunting her experience all day, she answered, “Only fingers,” she moaned again under his intense thrusting, “and a plug...ugh...once.”
Holy fuck. That was still more than he was expecting. But it was at least one thing he could claim as his own.
“You like my cock, Granger? I think you do. You’d like it a damn sight better than ‘fingers’ or a ‘plug,’ I can guarantee you that.”
“I thought you didn’t like to talk,” she bit at him.
He snickered silkily, smacking her smart arse once again. “I said I didn’t like it when you talked.” She’d proven him wrong on that score, as he very much liked many of the filthy things that had fallen out of her mouth this evening, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Are you going to make me come again, or not?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know, you’d be the perfect fuck if you just learned that there is a time and a place for nagging. Save it for when we’re actually married. And for your future reference, when I’m balls deep in you is the wrong time to be nagging me.” He obediently dragged his finger to her clit all the same.
Goddamned bitch. He shouldn’t do it. But he would anyway because he was going to be shagging her for the rest of his life. He might as well start off on the right foot.
In appreciation, she arched her back more. For a moment, he thought she must have been some kind of yogi with how flexible she was. His dick somehow managed to go deeper down her sweet snatch with that subtle tilt. She was inching closer to that second orgasam. The dam he’d basically mentally Spellotaped shut was ready to burst. He turned her back around, pulled her back up to his chest, and rocked his hips as he nipped at her neck. They were both close.
Having her this close had so many advantages. Two of those advantages had rosy pink nipples and bounced tantalizingly against his chest. Bending his neck at an uncomfortable angle that he immediately knew would be worth it, he took on in his mouth and sucked.
She came so hard she went momentarily cross-eyed.
Her walls clenched around his cock causing his guard to finally drop. Draco tensed and shook, “Ho-ly-fuck.” With deep thrusts he let his orgasm ride out. “Fuck. You. Ugh. Yes.”
It was all incoherent nonsense.
The two of them collapsed onto the floor, each boneless and sated.
“Well. That was fun,” Hermione said.
Draco still hadn’t regained the ability to close his mouth. His face was smashed into the carpet but he didn’t care. “Yeah.”
And Merlin, Almighty. It was supposed to be a dare. Neither ever imagined that they’d actually go through with it.
As Draco got a better grip on his mental faculties, he found himself grinning fondly at his fiancee.
Maybe...just maybe...this wouldn’t be so bad.
Hermione bit her lip as she looked up at the ceiling. For all her braggadocio about her experience, Draco did the one thing to her she didn’t believe he’d ever be capable of.
He made her feel like a slut.
She sighed. Sweet Merlin it was great. Her policy on ‘mature dick’ would need to be rethought.
Actually, yeah. It would definitely need to be rethought because she was marrying Draco.
She shuddered, still unused to the idea. A sudden, unbidden thought of a lifetime of little fights that morphed into hot sex entered her mind. She smiled and stole a glance at her fiance.
A line of drool had partially escaped his open mouth. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. Good job, Hermione! You fucked him good.
Maybe life with Draco Malfoy wouldn’t be so bad.
The two locked eyes and in that moment, neither remembered why they had ever objected to the Sorting Hat putting them together. Draco smiled and licked his lips. “Look...um...Granger…, do you have a preference? Emerald cut, round cut, marquis, or are you more into the modern cushion cut?”
“Believe it or not, I do have a preference,” Hermione traced her fingers down his chest. “Emerald, setting in an art deco design. Vintage.”
“Shit. That’s specific.”
“It’s my grandmother’s. Meaning you’ll have to ask my mother for it.”
Of fucking course. No. I couldn’t be one of the plethora of rings sitting in the Malfoy, Black, or Lestrange vaults. It HAD to be from her family. It will be sooooo much fun telling the muggles they are engaged in an arranged marriage.
Just as he was about to open his mouth to utter the fateful phrase, “ Whatever you want, Granger ,” the two were interrupted by a haughty, silver, cat Patronus.
They each blinked dumbly at the Patronus while they were both totally naked.
It cleared its throat before speaking in Headmistress McGonagall’s voice. “Good evening. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
They both snorted. Understatement of the year. It interrupted a lot of things. Draco had wanted to cuddle before the Patronus showed up. Hermione wanted another go at sucking Draco’s cock.
“I have just been informed by Minister Shacklebolt that, after reviewing it, the Wizengamot has determined that the Marriage Law is completely and utterly ridiculous, not to mention one-hundred percent unethical. It has been rescinded. You both will be happy to know that you will not need to marry one another. Good evening.”
After the Patronus disappeared, they each stared off into the distance for some time.
“Oh, thank God,” Hermione exclaimed. “No offense, Malfoy. You’re a fantastic lay, but I really can’t imagine our demon spawn.”
He grimaced. The spell was broken and there she was...Hermione Granger. Totally and utterly unendurable. “If we ever did procreate, they should throw us in Azkaban just as a pre-emptive ‘fuck you’ for bringing this person into the world.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Get the fuck to your room, Malfoy.”
They both stomped off to the respective rooms and slammed the doors.
Draco couldn’t believe what happened, but at least he knew he would have a good night’s sleep. A good shag always gives him sweet dreams.
“Draco,” his mother called. “Wake up.”
He looked around to find himself back at his room in the manor. “What the—”
“Language,” Narcissa scolded. “We have a few things to discuss before you head back to school today, including your fiancee. My cousin is being so obnoxious about the dowry.”
He wiped the sleep from his eyes. Draco wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming.
“Draco. Get dressed. Sirius and Hermione Black will be here within an hour.”
What the fuck?