Chapter 1: At The Succubus
The war turned everyone upside down. People who had planned to be healers were transformed into killers. The ones who wanted to teach ended up torturing others for information. Lovers became enemies, wives became widows, families torn in two. The warmest, most open hearts were turned to ice and once in a great while, a heart hidden deep in the shadows found its way into the light.
Of course like any good war, it raged on for years, sometimes so quietly and so well concealed that the average wizard forgot it was even happening, imagining that it was someone else’s problem. Then a skirmish would break out in Chester or the Death Eaters would swoop in from their stronghold in Wiltshire and it would be front page news again for a week or two until something more salacious came along. As the fight raged on the final outcome of the war became a matter of faith as neither Harry Potter nor Voldemort had been seen in over a year and fanatical believers on each side were eagerly awaiting a second coming at any moment that would bring an end to it all. The battle had become a religion.
In the meantime, any information that could crack through the armies’ longstanding armor was an invaluable asset, and high ranking soldiers on either side were sought out for huge bounties based on what they knew or who they could give up; particularly if they had grown up in the place where the enemy currently held themselves behind impenetrable ancient wards.
That was how Hermione Granger found herself in the South of France at an outrageously lush and exclusive hotel in Monaco. She sat in the lobby with a glass of absurdly priced champagne and a platinum blonde wig, watching the guests file past on their way to the casinos and clubs or giggling and drunk on their way back to their rooms. It was two a.m. and her research told her that he traveled by night. Sure enough, at 2:45 she saw him emerge from the bank of elevators looking, she had to admit, breathtakingly gorgeous in a pair of black pants and black v-neck sweater that stretched perfectly across his chest. She hadn’t seen him in over two years and in that time he’d clearly adapted well to life on the run. His usually pale, sunken features had a little hint of a tan, a brightness in his eyes. His once meticulous white hair was a bit closer to golden, artfully tousled, hiding one eye. He glanced around the hotel lobby, stuck his hands in his pockets and walked right past her, heading for the gilded revolving doors. Monte Carlo was a magical place for muggles for sure, but it also had a wizard district, and when she followed him out into the evening air she knew he was headed right for it.
It was a warm night and he walked slow, admiring the scenery, the women, the moon on the water. This was a big enough city for him to get lost in and he felt comfortable going out and enjoying himself every once in a while. He’d earned it. After hiding out in Avignon for six months he’d grown tired of rural wizard life. Yes, the wide eyed shop girls and milkmaids were easily lured into his bed and they accepted his little trinkets and kind gestures as if he were some sort of magnanimous prince and not a selfish sex starved prat, but after a while it was like hexing frogs in a cauldron. He needed a bit of a challenge…intellectually, of course. Here in Monaco he didn’t mind being a small fish in big pond, as long as there were enough female fish and enough bottles of firewhiskey to keep him in good spirits.
He made his way to the Avenue de la Madone where he found the entrance to the wizard district. It was small, but extremely decadent and in the short time he’d taken up residence there he’d made a name for himself in the gaming rooms and gentlemen’s clubs, so that finally he felt like the Malfoys used to feel - top of the heap, calling the shots. There was still the matter of the mark on his forearm that ached every once in a while as they tried to call him back; but he’d taught himself how to shut out everything, even the summoning of the other Death Eaters. For the first time in a long time he was comfortable in his skin. Of course, no one here knew that he was in hiding, laying low until the war was over one way or the other. He’d lost so much in the years that he fought for and, frankly against wizard England that he barely cared anymore if it survived or if every single wizard there was reduced to a pile of charred bones. Neither side could lay claim to purity or fair fighting, even the light had a dark underbelly. Maybe that’s what England needed…a fresh start. It had done wonders for him.
He settled into a red velvet booth in a dark corner of The Succubus, a strip joint that offered lovely extracurriculars to the right customers for the right price. A server brought him a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“I didn’t order this, love,” he said, leaning to the side to look around her, watching the show on the stage. If he didn’t know better he’d think the little minx swinging her ass around the pole was old Loony Lovegood…but…filthier. Not a bad look.
“It’s compliments of the woman at the bar,” the server said, nodding towards a curvy little thing perched on a stool.
Draco looked her over, impressed with the knee high leather boots with an impossible heel; the long legs poured into a tight black pencil skirt that was slit up almost to her hip. She had a nipped in waist and a very ‘sexy librarian’ looking white collared shirt that stretched across her perky little tits.
“Why don’t you tell her to come pay her compliments herself,” he said, throwing a galleon on the waitress’ tray.
“Yes sir,” she said, tucking the coin into her bra.
“You can go over now,” the server said, approaching Hermione. “I think he’s already got a stiffy if you’re interested.”
“I’m not,” she said, draining her firewhiskey, “but thanks for the help."
The light in the club was dark and blue tinged, occasionally swirling with bursts of charmed stars or sparks that added to the lap dances going on in the various booths. The music was loud, the air filled with smoke, and her identity was easily concealed inside the club. With a quick check of her compact mirror she fixed her blood red lipstick and touched up her dark, smoky eye shadow. She smoothed the bangs on her bobbed wig and undid one last button, revealing a hint of the lace that lined the cups of her white bra.\
He watched her preening at the bar and poured two glasses of champagne. She wasn’t like the other strippers or escorts. First of all she was far too clothed, and her outfit was…sophisticated, not…slutty. But she wasn’t a usual customer either. He knew the ins and outs of The Succubus as well as their preferred guest list, and if he’d seen her before he’d have taken her home, or at least to one of the back rooms to take her for a spin. As she turned to approach him he stretched his arms out across the back of the booth, crossing his long legs at the ankle, his trademark arrogant smirk spreading across his lips.
“Can I sit down?” She asked, one hand on her hip, causing her shirt to pull across her chest, revealing the tops of her creamy, beautiful, suckable…
“Of course you can, sweetheart, it’s just a question of where,” he drawled, uncrossing his legs.
She nearly started laughing, amazed that she hadn’t been found out immediately, and even further that he was now flirting with the girl he’d all but threatened to kill for six years.
“Oooh, so tempting,” she purred, curling up beside him on the velvet covered seat, her legs tucked up underneath her, half of her face hidden by her hair.
She took one of the glasses of champagne and sipped it. It had cost half of her allotted expenses and she would be damned if she wasn’t going to partake. Draco leaned in, tucking her hair back so he could put his lips near her ear.
“What’s your name, darling?” he asked, struggling to be heard over the loud music.
His hand moved to her knee, his thumb brushing the skin of her thigh and she was shocked at how quickly goosebumps raised along her arms. Was it his touch or the feeling of his mouth against her ear, the little wet sounds of his words, the warm puffs of air over her skin?
“Does it matter?” she asked coyly, pulling her skirt up another inch, just baiting the trap. “Can’t we keep it anonymous? After all, we’re both only here for one thing, aren’t we?”
His hand roamed higher, much higher than she expected, only inches from her panties, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. She felt the tiny muscles between her legs clench, pulsing with unexpected arousal. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her like this, flirted like this. His thumb dared to whisper a stroke along the gusset of her panties and she gasped, nearly pulling away completely. But she couldn't chicken out now. She’d come too far.
“And what is that, kitten?” He kissed the soft skin beneath her ear, his tongue flicking out across her jawbone, her throat.
Who was this Malfoy? She’d never seen Draco so much as hold a girl’s hand during their time at Hogwarts and now he was literally trying to get inside her pants twenty seconds after she sat down. The mission was quickly going off the rails. She should have revealed herself before now. She was supposed to get close, grab him and disapparate. The end. Now it seemed her pussy was running the show, wondering how far she could push him, how far she could push herself.
But this was Draco Malfoy. And she was Hermione Granger. And she wasn’t here to get laid. She blinked, breathed and strengthened her resolve. She could play this part and still get him secured. She would come out on top. So to speak.
“I’m looking to get you,” she said finally, grabbing his jaw and kissing him hard on the mouth.
His lips were glorious, soft and full, moving expertly against hers, his tongue warm and smooth, darting forward to tempt her, a groan vibrating against her lips. She pushed against him chest, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth as he tangled his hands into her hair…her wig. To distract him she threw her leg over both of his, straddling his hips, pulling his hands down to hold her waist, as her skirt hiked up to her ass. He was already hard and she actually felt herself getting wet as he bucked up between her spread legs.
“You’ve got me, love,” he said, pulling back to look her in the eyes, “where shall we go to celebrate your victory?”
She pulled off her wig, shook out her hair and smiled when his eyes went wide in recognition.
“I’m thinking we should go back to London,” she said. “What do you say, Malfoy?”
Pulling her wand from the holster at the back of her skirt, she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and with an echoing crack, the two of them were gone.
As soon as their feet hit the floor in the decidedly less opulent hotel room that Hermione had rented, Draco pushed away from her hard enough that she fell to the floor.
“You fucking mu—bitch!”
But before he could get another word out she pointed her wand and yelled
“Stupefy!” and he fell to the floor in an angry but unconscious heap.
Draco blinked back to consciousness but found himself still unable to move.
“I’m gonna rip your fucking throat out Granger,” he growled, straining against the thick wizard shackles that she’d fastened to his wrists and threaded through the post of the headboard. They were made of a strong metal alloy that dampened magic, so any wandless jinxes or hexing, even apparating was out. He was also stripped down to his boxer briefs so she’d obviously taken his wand, money, hotel key…dignity. “Granger! Where are you?”
He was enraged, but a good portion of it was directed inwards. It was his own fault for letting his guard down, for accepting drinks from a stranger and following his cock right into her fucking trap. Of course, who would have expected the curvy, sexy, long legged vixen at the strip club to be Granger? When she’d pulled off her wig he’d nearly laughed, if he’d had the time. Sure, he’d imagined defiling the loudmouth bitch for years, bending her over one of her precious library tables and fucking her senseless, making her beg for his cock, but those were just jack off scenarios…nothing he would ever imagine coming to fruition. She was cold as ice in school, nose in the air, body hidden beneath black robes and big sweaters. A few of the Slytherin girls had even suggested she was a lesbian for all the care she gave to impressing boys, which only added to her mystique.
The door to the adjoining bathroom clicked open and she emerged from a cloud of raspberry scented steam, a towel wrapped around her hair, a white satin robe cinched at her waist, revealing her curves once again.
“Sorry Malfoy,” she said with a smile, “had to take a shower. I was feeling a little…filthy.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes at her, “I wasn’t the one crawling into your lap, darling.”
“And I wasn’t the one shoving my fist up your crotch.”
“Oh, Granger…” he said, clucking his tongue. “If you thought that was my fist, then my assumptions about your experience in this arena are confirmed.”
She flipped the towel off of her hair and it fell in smooth, damp waves down her back, a few strands sticking to her cheeks, still pink from the shower, a tiny cluster of soap suds stuck to the hollow above her collarbone. He was getting angry again.
“For fuck’s sake, Granger, let me out of these cuffs. What the hell is this all about?” He snarled, lunging forward, trying to break the headboard, the metal cuffs cutting painfully into his wrists.
She leaned forward, resting her hands on the mattress and Draco could see down the front of her robe to the tops of her breasts, and the look on her face let him know that she knew damn well what she was doing.
“It’s about taking you home to London, Malfoy, and getting 400 galleons in reward. There’s a bounty on your pretty blonde head and I’m going to get it.”
He let his head loll back against the headboard, closing his eyes.
“A bounty. You know I was cleared of all that Hogwart’s mess, Granger.”
She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, finger combing her damp hair.
“I know that, but we need different information now, and I’m sure you’ll be able to give it.”
Hermione Granger, the queen of seeking out information. Of course she’d end up turning bounty hunter for the Order. And of course she’d come after him, probably couldn't raise her hand for the job fast enough. How fucking cold was this dish of revenge?
His voice went a bit lower, a bit sultry,
“Listen sweetheart, why don’t you just ask me what they need to know and I’ll tell you. You can relay the message and then we can forget this whole thing, you can buy me breakfast and I can go back to my little paradise.”
“Your little paradise of hanging out in brothels?” She asked, standing up again, looking out between the curtains of the front window.
“That wasn’t a brothel Granger,” he said with a snort. “If you have a few free minutes later I can take you to a brothel. I’m sure it would be very eye opening. Helpful even. I mean, you seem a little wound up.”
She spun around from the window, her eyes as fiery as second year. But it looked far sexier on a twenty five year old body, with wet hair and pink skin, fresh from the shower. He didn’t like how he reacted to it. Swotty muggle. She had no fucking business making his dick twitch.
“Wound up? Malfoy, I was playing a part to get your guard down,” she said, a bit too forcefully, her cheeks going red.
“You do a much better job getting things up, darling. I could recommend you to the owner if you like, everyone likes the naughty schoolgirl routine.”
She leaned in close to him, crawling across the bed but staying just out of his reach, taunting the dragon.
“Especially you, I noticed,” she said, her eyes flicking down to the bulge in his briefs. "You seemed to be standing at attention the minute I sat down."
But if she was trying to fluster him, she’d have to try a bit harder. He pulled forward on the cuffs again, a bit slower this time; his lean, muscular arms stretched out behind him, his throat and chest straining as he lunged towards her smirking face, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip.
“And your panties were wet, little mudblood,” he said, only to be met with a sharp slap across his face.
He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs casually and closing his eyes, feigning sleep. Advantage Malfoy.
Chapter 2: Lipstick
They were in the hotel room for a little over two hours when he heard a strange mechanical beeping sound. She emerged from the bathroom again wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a black tank top with skinny straps. Her hair was smoothed, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
She ignored him, diving across the room for her bag that sat on the dresser, answering the phone on the third ring.
“Hello? Garrison?” She said, turning her back on Draco.
“Granger? Is he secure?” The Auror on the other end of the line sounded frantic, distracted. Their connection was staticky and weak.
“Yes,” Hermione said, not wanting to give details. “We're at the hotel. Are you on your way? We can leave whenever.”
“There’s a delay!” Garrison yelled, and it sounded like a commotion in the background. “Hang tight and keep him secure…” there was a break in the line. She could hear yelling and some sort of struggle in the background. “…can’t….get…when we planned…”
“Garrison, I can’t hear you…you’re breaking up…” She walked around the room with the phone to her ear while Draco hummed the Hogwart’s anthem as loud as he could.
“…get back to you…few hours!” were the last words she heard before the line went dead.
She stared at the phone in her hand, tempted to throw it against the wall, or maybe at Malfoy’s head.
“So why are you using phones? Why didn’t you use a disillusionment charm instead of a wig?” Draco called out from the bed. “Why aren’t you doing this with magic?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said, suddenly far more tense and far less amused than she had been before the phone call. Sensing that, he kept pushing.
“You’re being tracked, aren’t you?” He said, his head cocked to one side.
She wasn’t looking at him. She couldn’t. Just the sound of his voice let her know that he had that crooked, smug smile on his face and everyone knew she was terrible at lying, particularly to a Slytherin. But the truth was yes, the heart of the Order was being tracked. The core group of Death Eaters were based at the Manor in Wiltshire but there were others, offshoot groups that showed support for Voldemort’s cause by reporting on the movements within the Order. There were moles, double agents working against them. The circle of people they could trust grew smaller every day. So when they brought in bounties they did their best to refrain from using magic; floos, portkeys, apparition and even brooms were easily detected with charms. Besides, any sort of magic she could throw at Draco would easily be counteracted, but she doubted very much he knew how to drive a Fiat.
“Don’t you worry about it Malfoy,” she said, glancing back out the window at the purply grey line on the horizon. Dawn approached and she was distracted, worried about Garrison.
An hour later the sun was starting to rise and she stood in front of the mirror putting on a subtle, wine colored lipstick, doing her best to ignore her captive.
“Why are you putting on lipstick?” He asked. “Not on my account I hope. It just ends up getting smeared all over my dick and makes a huge mess…”
She didn’t answer, swiping at the corner of her mouth with her pinky to clear a smudge. She most certainly did not think about his dick.
“Who’s Garrison? You putting lipstick on for Garrison? Not riding the Weasel anymore? What happened? The whining got to be too much?”
“Would you please shut up?” She yelled, throwing the open lipstick at the wall behind his head, leaving a long, wine colored smudge on the wall. “What happened to Astoria? Her frantic uptalking and nail maintenance got to be too much?”
He was quiet for a minute and the smile on his face twitched. Hermione felt a tiny bit of guilt, not actually knowing what had happened to Astoria and now fearing the worst.
“Nah, she was banging three other guys during our engagement so I called it off. Imagine ending up with a kid that looked like Nott.”
His tone was calm and joking but she could see the hurt in his eyes. She’d never known him with a ‘girlfriend’ or in love, but it seemed like Astoria had definitely broken his heart. For a brief moment, she felt a bit of sympathy for him. Ron hadn’t exactly cheated on her during their two year relationship, but he was most certainly checked out for the greater part of it, more concerned with climbing the ranks in the Ministry than spending time with her. It wasn’t his whining that got to be too much…it was the silence. Two people living alone in the same flat.
“So are you sleeping with Garrison yet or still drawing him in? Because your ass is diamond in those yoga pants. I think you could close the deal.”
“Why are you like this?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly uncomfortable with how he was leering at her, the way he was licking is lips again.
“Like what, love?”
“Like a…” she searched for a more mature term but found nothing, “like a sex maniac.”
He laughed out loud.
“I mean it,” she said. “I’ve been here in Monaco for a week and a half watching you.” He flinched in surprise but said nothing. “You were in The Succubus three times in a week, leaving with a different girl every time and stuffing galleons in the strippers’ bags the whole time.” Draco rolled his eyes as she walked closer, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. “You didn’t even know my name and you had your hand up my skirt and your tongue in my mouth inside two minutes. You weren’t like this at school. You…you didn’t even have a girlfriend.”
“Yes, well, I was too busy toppling a regime, you see.” He offered.
She walked over to the edge of the bed, rolling her eyes. “Too busy being a patsy for the big boys you mean.”
Draco lunged forward so hard she heard the bed squeak away from the wall, metal scraping against the wood. His face was an inch from hers as he stretched his arms to a painful angle, his eyes burning with rage.
“I was not a patsy. I was protecting my fucking family. You don’t know the first fucking thing about what I went through, how I had to prove I was worthy of this stupid fucking tattoo. I did all those things to keep my mother ALIVE. Don’t you dare tell me you wouldn’t have done the same damn thing.”
She reached out and put a palm to his cheek, her eyes surprisingly soft and comforting. He calmed a bit at the touch of her fingers. All she had to do is lean in another inch and he could kiss her, they could pick up where they’d…
“Careful of those exposed nerves, Malfoy,” she purred, stroking his jaw. “Wouldn’t want the Order to know what buttons to push.” A light slap to his cheek and she stood.
He smiled and wrapped both of his legs around hers, twisting so that she fell back across the bed, trapped between his thighs.
“And you should be careful how close you get to your prisoners, mistress,” he whispered, looking down at her.
“Fuck you Malfoy,” she said, twisting and pushing, trying to break free.
His legs were surprisingly strong and he only laughed, sliding one thigh up to squeeze tight across her chest. She kicked and writhed but now her left arm was pinned beneath him and her face was only inches from his dick. She froze.
“Let me up,” she said. “What’s your big plan? Hold me here between your legs forever?”
“Tempting,” he said. “Maybe I’d prefer to make a deal.”
“I don’t have any deals to make. You’re going back to the order.” She kicked and bucked but he only squeezed tighter, making it difficult to breathe. “Malfoy!”
“Granger!” He yelled, mimicking her voice. “God I love those noises you’re making. I bet you’re a screamer. What do you prefer? Top or bottom?”
He thrust his hips up obscenely and she could feel the heat from his body, see that he was halfway hard just fighting with her. The only way she was going to get free was to surprise him. Feigning a further struggle, Hermione moved an inch or two closer to his cock and while he was laughing she leaned forward, running her tongue over the length of the fabric covered bulge.
“Fucking hell!” He yelled, his legs going slack and she immediately jumped out from between them. “What are you doing?”
Her hair was wild, her lipstick smeared, cheeks red as she gasped for air. She looked down at his chest, the old scars slashing across his lean, sinewy muscles, the tendons straining in his neck. His cheeks were red with anger or maybe arousal, or embarrassment, his eyes like fiery quicksilver. When he spoke it was low, menacing.
“If you want it that badly, just climb on, princess.”
“I don’t want it at all, darling,” she said, not moving, feeling her cheeks flush, thinking back to how she’d grinded against him in the club, the feeling of his tongue over hers.
“You’re a shit liar, Granger. I could feel it in how you kissed me. Now me, I have an excuse, because I didn’t know it was you. But you knew damn well who you were dry humping and you still did it spectacularly, and it still turned you on.”
She turned away from him, not wanting to look at his lips, his hair hanging in front of his eye, the trail of hair below his navel. It had been a long time. A very long time.
“When’s the last time you got laid?” He asked, as if reading her thoughts.
“None of your fucking business,” she snapped, picking her phone up from the floor to see if Garrison had tried to call back.
“Oh of course, of course. But since your precious Garrison seems to be running late I thought maybe we’d get reacquainted, or maybe I could…scratch an itch you seem to have.”
“You’re disgusting,” she said, looking out the window.
“You know I used to imagine fucking you when we were in school,” he said, his voice low and buttery…hypnotic. “Purely to defile you. Not because I secretly had a crush on you or loved you from afar…just because I wanted to see what you looked like when you came undone. I wanted to see the look of surprise on your face when I pushed you against a wall and stuck my hand up your skirt, making you come on my fingers outside the potions lab.”
“I didn’t…I didn’t wear skirts…” she mumbled, feeling heat creep up her neck, her thoughts jumbled. He ignored her.
“I wondered what it would be like to sink my fingers into that ridiculous hair and suck on your neck, see if your nipples were pale pink or deep and dark like your lips. Do you shave your pussy? Do you whimper and moan or do you pant and growl, screaming and swearing? I bet you like being on top, bouncing on a nice thick cock while he grabs your tits.”
“Stop it!” She yelled, charging towards him. Her wand was on the other side of the room or she’d have cast a silencio, rules or no rules.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her, taking note of the fact that her pupils were blown wide, her cheeks bright red. “Did you ever think of me?”
“Not once,” she lied, still unable to catch her breath, her heart beating hard against her ribs.
“Nah, of course not,” he said, winking. “No time for fantasizing when you live your life with your nose in a book or trotting around after Potter. Honestly, I’m surprised Ron was even able to pry those legs apart, princess. And I’m sure you didn’t give it up to Krum.”
“Shut up, Draco,” she warned, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her belly was filled with a sort of throbbing energy. A combination of anger and want; and her want was torn between punching and fucking.
“Ooo! Now it’s Draco. She must really be mad. Or maybe mad isn’t the word.” He bent his knee and before she could move away he slipped his bare foot between her legs, up against her pussy, making her jump backwards. “Hot. Hot and a little…damp, no?”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she growled.
He could see he’d had an effect. Her nipples were hard beneath her camisole, her chest flushed pink. Of course the effect he’d had on himself was clearly evident as well, and Hermione couldn’t stop staring at his dick straining against his underwear. Still he was grinning at her, but cocked his eyebrow in confusion when she smiled back.
“It must make you crazy being locked up like that, Malfoy,” she said, moving to the end of the bed, her tone suddenly playful and seductive. “Unable to push a girl around.” She ran a single fingertip over his shin. “Like I said, I’ve been watching you for more than a week and I know what you like. As if it weren’t obvious; you like to be in control.”
She pulled his legs together and sat on them, leaning forward to hover over his chest.
“I watched you back girls into corners, pinning their hands over their heads when you kissed their neck. Pushing them against the wall, caging them in with your arms. I watched you hold them from behind, grinding your hips into their ass.” She mimicked what she’d seen, rolling her hips while she straddled his knees. He could feel the wet spot on her pants. “Wouldn’t want them to think they could lead you around by your dick, would you, Draco? Wouldn't want them to know you couldn't get laid in school. Wouldn’t want them to know that they could have you begging and crying for release like a desperate little boy. That wouldn’t be…the Malfoy way.”
He wasn’t laughing at her anymore. His eyes were dark, half lidded, his jaw slack as she crawled up his body, rubbing over the bulge between his legs.
“Malfoys don’t beg for anything do they? Not even an orgasm.”
“No,” he said quietly. “We don’t.” He quickly bent his knees, knocking her forward against him. She squealed as he captured her mouth, kissing her hard, his tongue thrusting deep between her lips as he locked his legs around her waist. “But right now I’d do almost anything to feel your mouth on my cock.”
She saw red, her whole body shivering with an aching want that she hadn’t felt in nearly a year. The way he kissed her, his tongue fucking her mouth as he groaned beneath her made her dizzy with lust. He was right. She wanted to get laid. She wanted him to want her like he’d wanted the girls in the club, taking her, devouring her. He broke the kiss to breathe and she rocked hard against his erection, dragging her pussy up and down his length.
“I hate you Malfoy,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head.
He smiled, swirling his tongue around one of her hardened nipples before sucking it between his lips.
“I assure you the feeling is mutual baby,” he rasped, licking up the side of her neck. “But trust me, it’ll be a good fuck anyway.”
Chapter 3: Passing The Time
Her intention had been to tease him. She was going to taunt him within an inch of his life and leave him aching, locking herself in the bathroom. That was her big plan, to kill him with blue balls. But as soon as his lips touched hers she’d given up, given in, desperately needing to know what it would be like. Of course she HAD fantasized about him in school…the forbidden fruit, the dark, brooding bad boy who seemed to have no interest in anyone, not even Pansy who all but threw herself at him at every opportunity. What had he been hiding under that mysterious exterior?
His lips broke away from hers and she pulled back to breathe, glaring at him with frustration, anger and lust. He was hard beneath her spread legs and she ground against is erection, the fabric separating them damp and hot.
“You’re not going to uncuff me?” He asked, leaning forward to try and kiss her again, but she pulled back, her lips curled into a wicked grin. “I can do amazing things with my hands, Granger.”
Again she put a palm to his stubbled cheek, giving him a feigned look of extreme pity, her bottom lip pouting out.
“Not a chance Malfoy,” she said, brushing her lips over his. “But don’t worry, you’ll give me what I need somehow.”
He growled his frustration as she kissed her way down the thick tendons in his neck to lick at the jutting ridge of his collarbone. He snapped his hips up against her and she wiggled over his cock, her tongue trailing down his chest to the shiny, fading scars that sliced through his pale flesh.
“This better not be a trick, Granger,” he muttered, his voice strained, breathy. “I need your mouth...”
She smiled but didn’t look up at him. The desperation in his words made her hotter, seeing him straining to get to her lips, all but begging her to touch and lick him. She could have gotten herself off just watching him struggle.
“No trick,” she said, crawling down to crouch between his spread legs, pulling at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Just two anonymous people fucking in a hotel room to pass the time, right?”
His dick popped free, long and hard, weeping at the tip. This was what he'd been hiding, and it was worth the wait. She flicked her tongue over the head and he groaned.
“Right," he said, doing his best to sound bored. "Just…passing…the time.”
He watched, wide eyed as she took him into her mouth, her warm tongue laving over the shaft as she sunk deeper and deeper, until he could feel himself nestled tightly against the back of her throat. What he wouldn’t give to grab her hair, to hold her head and furiously fuck her mouth; but the look in her eye when she glanced up at his face let him know that she relished controlling him, keeping him at her mercy. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to pin her to the wall and make her scream like he’d dreamed of so many times over the years, and that’s just what she wasn’t going to allow.
She sucked harder, hollowing her cheeks, humming and licking, her warm palms massaging his balls as she bobbed over his cock, her cunt dripping at his groans and growls. Pulling away with a wet popping sound, she stood and turned her back to him, peeling off her yoga pants and bending at the waist to pull them free.
“I can see from here how wet you are, princess,” he said, twisting and pulling in his bonds. “Its smeared all over your thighs, baby. Do I get to taste that?”
“Sure, Malfoy,” she said. “But I’ll feed it to you.”
She sat at the end of the bed and spread her legs, bending her knees so he could see the slick, shining pink folds of her neatly trimmed snatch. He was mesmerized by the way she stroked herself, running her hands up and down the insides of her legs and over her stomach, eyes closed, head thrown back in ecstasy. Her hips rolled and she sunk two fingers inside herself, pumping slowly, her hand drawing out little wet sucking noises between her legs as she met each thrust with a buck of her hips, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. There was something erotic about making him watch her, knowing he couldn't touch, knowing he couldn't stop her to take what he wanted. She knew she was making him harder and hotter with each pass of her fingers over the hard nub of her clit.
“More,” he said, almost to himself. “Add another finger, kitten.” He was surprised to find that she did as he asked, moving faster now, the sounds of her soaking pussy making his chest flush, his cheeks hot. He could smell her. His dick ached for her, the arousal throbbing in his belly. “You’ve never looked hotter, Granger. God I want to fuck you right into the ground.”
Slinking towards him on all fours she reached between her legs, coating her fingers in her own slick juices. She knelt beside his chest and slipped her fingers into his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirling around her hand nearly made her come. He licked away every drop of her cream, his eyes burning into hers, daring her to pull away. He could see how badly she wanted him, how her eyes rolled back when he sucked at her flesh, her cheeks pink, her mouth fallen open, breathing heavy across his chest. When she pulled her fingers out he kissed her palm, licking down to her wrist.
“Uncuff me,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the corners of her mouth, peppering her cheeks and jaw with light, teasing kisses. “Uncuff me and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll cry.” She was close enough that he could lick the shell of her ear. “I’ll make your body shake and sweat, you won't be able to fucking speak, your pussy wringing every drop of spunk from my dick while you scream my name. I’ll lick the sweat and come and tears from your body and start all over again with my face buried in your cunt, sucking your clit until you beg me to stop. Uncuff me, Granger and I’ll give you the fucking you deserve.”
Unable to stand it another minute she scrambled over his body for the ancient key in the nightstand. Wrapping her arms around his chest from the front she released the cuffs. It would be hours before the magic dampening effects wore off, and his wand was safe and sound on the dresser across the room. Still, she squealed when he suddenly grabbed her, flipping her onto her back, his mouth devouring hers, his tongue and teeth and lips attacking as he teased her with the head of his cock between her legs.
“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing her throat, pinning her hands above her head. “Tell me what you want,” he said, pushing inside her, only in inch, just enough to make her beg for more. She squirmed as he held her still, nipping and sucking at the skin of her throat, waiting for her to say it. He needed to hear Hermione Granger say it.
“I want you,” she said, pushing her hips against his, trying to draw him in. “I want you inside me.”
He shook his head, pulling away completely, stroking her face, his fingers threading through her hair.
“Not good enough, Granger. What do you want? Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, straining forward to try and kiss him, to feel his tongue in her mouth again, his body pressed against hers again, the weight of him on top of her. “Please.”
He let her kiss him, both of his hands cradling her head as he lowered himself on top of her, but still he hadn’t heard what he needed. He hadn't heard what he’d dreamt of for so long.
“So close, love. Try again. Because I’m getting anxious to start.”
He pulled back and she looked him in the eye, those cold grey eyes now with pupils blown wide, his cheeks pink, lips swollen as he panted for breath. His hair hung in front of his eye and in a blink she saw everything. She could see back 12 years to when they were first year students, serving detention in the forest, how he frowned when he saw her laughing with Ron and Harry. She saw him laughing as her teeth grew in front of his eyes, the anger and frustration on his features when he first called her a mudblood. But she saw other things too. She saw the way he warned her to leave the campground before the dementors arrived. She saw him watching her in potions as they discussed lust vs love. She saw him staring at her during the Yule Ball, Pansy standing angrily beside him. It was hard to believe, but she could see it now. He’d always wanted her. He didn’t love her, didn’t even like her, but he wanted her, bad, and for a moment she regretted having never realized it before now. The fun they could have had.
“I want you to fuck me, Draco,” she said, purposely using his first name.
“Good girl,” he breathed, and sunk into her with one deep, hard thrust.
For a moment he didn’t move, just staring down into her face, watching the little twinge of discomfort flash across her features as she adjusted to his size. He smoothed her hair back from her head and kissed her hard on the mouth as he started a fierce, unrelenting rhythm, hammering between her legs until she was groaning and grunting, her fingernails digging into his back. He stopped and flipped onto his back, pulling her to ride on top of him, holding her hips to guide every thrust, hissing through clenched teeth. She started to tremble, bucking and rolling, whining as his dick brushed over that sweet, beautiful spot inside her, sending sparks up her spine.
“Oh fuck Draco…please….please let me…” She pressed her hands on his chest and pushed back harder, faster, making her purr, nails dragging down his chest.
In response he slid his middle finger down over her ass, finding the tight little entrance hidden there. He circled and pressed forward, still thrusting up into her.
“I get this next,” he breathed, sinking his finger deep into her ass, making her back arch as she screamed. “God I can’t wait to stuff my dick in this tight little hole and make you squirm,” he wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down to his mouth. “Kiss me when you come,” he said, licking at her lips. “I want to feel you moaning in my mouth.”
He continued to fuck her ass with his finger, his cock slamming up through her fluttering walls. She did as he asked, closing her mouth over his when she felt the climax overtake her like a white wave, a rippling electricity from head to toe, throbbing arousal low in her belly as her insides milked him, clenching and squeezing, urging him to finish.
“Not yet witch,” he growled, pulling out and flipping her onto her stomach.
He slapped her ass and pulled her up onto her hands and knees, sliding into her still quivering pussy and snapping his hips against her, working towards his own goal. It was too much, she was oversensitive, every nerve ending on fire, and sure she couldn’t come again, but he ignored her groaning and reached around her waist to stroke her clit anyway, making her howl and whine, backing up against him.
“Yes, yes! Oh fuck yes!” She whined as he grabbed her hair in one hand and pulled.
He thrust faster and harder, until she was pushed to the top of the bed, her hands braced against the headboard, a pillow tucked under her belly.
“Good girl,” he said again. “Take it all.”
She could barely hold herself up, her body loose and limp in his strong hands as he pushed harder, deeper, driving her towards another orgasm.
“Hold on, kitten,” he groaned, and she could feel his pace growing erratic, his thrusts quick and shallow as he neared the end. She gripped the headboard and cried out his name again as he dug his fingers into her hips, a spreading warmth filling her insides.
He folded himself over her back, kissing between her shoulderblades and the nape of her neck, his fingers running through her sweat soaked hair.
“Just as I imagined,” he whispered, catching his breath. “So fucking tight. So good.”
He pulled out and lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms so that she could hear his heart still hammering against his ribs. She still hated him, and she still needed his information. She still had every intention of bringing him in to the Order, but obviously something had changed. There was a spark between them that had exploded and she didn’t regret acting on it for even a moment. It was the best sex she’d ever had; angry and passionate, feral; and she strongly suspected she’d never have it that good again. He kissed the crown of her head, his fingers tracing circles around her nipples, down over her stomach, through the dark curls between her legs.
“How long until Garrison gets here,” he muttered into her hair.
“I don’t know,” she answered, comfortable laying against him, her cheek on his chest. It didn’t mean a thing; it was just comfortable.
“Good,” he said, pulling her closer, his fingers tickling over her back. “I’m getting some sleep.”
She’d meant to stay awake. She’d meant to lay in his arms and wait until he was snoring before extricating herself and calling Garrison again. She’d meant to do her job and bring back Malfoy, the 500 galleon bounty heavy in her pocket.
Instead she woke up an hour later, still naked, tucked neatly into bed, her hands shackled to the headboard in her own wizard cuffs. She struggled and swore as she heard her phone ringing across the room; Garrison announcing his arrival. Turning her head she saw a piece of hotel stationery folded into a little tent on the nightstand, the note written in his neat, narrow script, her wand resting right beside it.
“Better luck next time Granger! I’ll be waiting. I hear Hawaii is nice this time of year.”
He’d drawn a ridiculous little heart and the initials DM at the bottom. She swore and pulled at the unbreakable cuffs, screaming his name in a much different way than she had a few hours before, but when she looked up at the ceiling in defeat, all she could do was smile.