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I think I want to be in love with you, but I don’t know how.
Angela Carter - The Magic Toyshop
Their relationship is rather unique.
That’s what Hermione thinks at least as she lays on her side, eyes flickering over the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy. The soft sunlight that trickles in through her window softens the sharp angles of his cheekbones.
She isn’t sure if what they have is romantic. Malfoy certainly didn’t treat her any differently after their little tryst at the Halloween Party. Well, actually, that’s not completely true. They shagged rather frequently now.
With November almost over, Hermione was focused on creating her schedule for the next semester and passing her finals. Whatever was going on between her and Draco wasn’t exactly at the forefront of her mind, as far as she knew, once the semester ended so did their interactions.
“It’s just sex?” Ginny had asked, brows raised and a little twinkle in her eyes.
“Essentially, it’s not like we’ve had the relationship talk or gone out on dates.” Hermione shrugged.
“Don’t you go out for coffee or lunch during the week?”
“We were doing that before we slept together, before I even invited him to your party.” Ginny just hums in thought.
“Well, whatever it is, I’m happy for you. You deserve a good shag.” Harry of course walked into the kitchen right at that moment, gaping at his wife and turning red, which basically ended the conversation. Ginny had gotten a good laugh out of it.
Hermione carefully sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed so she can shower, however all of that is put to a stop when long fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her back into the middle of the mattress. The heat that flushes through her as her body connects with the wizard next to her should probably be embarrassing.
She lets her eyes flutter shut again, giving her body to him, letting him press her firmly against his bare chest.
“And what are you getting up to?” Draco’s voice is low, still filled with sleep, and she shivers.
“I was trying to get out of bed.” She mumbles and he tsks, nose brushing over her hairline.
His erection presses hot and hard against her thigh, and Hermione smiles as his hands begin to wander under her camisole, fingertips lighting a fire up her navel and over her breast.
“What can I do to convince you to stay right here with me?” He palms her breast, thumb rubbing over her nipple and Hermione sucks in a breath, wetness gathering between her thighs.
Draco turns on his side, pulling her so that he can angle a knee between her legs, pressing it up until her clit is pressed just perfectly against his thigh. It’s reminiscent of their first time together, something he liked to do, to make her give into pleasure.
“I asked you a question.” Hermione blinks up at him, lost in the sensation of rocking back and forth over him, slick building in her knickers so that she slides so easily.
“I suppose you could do something for me.” Her hands wander over his broad shoulders, fingernails scraping against his neck.
“And what’s that?”
“Kiss me.” She says cheekily, trying to scoot herself up so her lips can meet his. Draco takes pity on her by swooping his head down, hand firm on her hip to keep her in place. His kiss sets her on fire, parting her lips for him so his tongue can sweep her mouth, and she can’t help the little gasp that escapes her.
He’s relentless, insatiable, insistent as he presses his lips to hers, devouring her as if he hadn’t fucked her just last night. It leaves her breathless, stealing the air from her lungs, she’s practically delirious from his touch. Her clit throbs against his thigh, cunt clenching eagerly around nothing, pressure building low in her pelvis.
Hermione wants him to fuck her now, but he usually likes to give her an orgasm beforehand. Always two orgasms at least, he’s tried for three before but she had wiggled away. Three was much too selfish, before him she was lucky if she was able to orgasm once during sex.
“Such a good girl,” He murmurs into her mouth, and she whimpers when he pinches her nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. “Are you going to come for me like a good girl?”
His mouth dips to the pulse point under her jaw and her brain short-circuits, and for just a moment, she’s writhing mindless against him without a worry in the world. So, yes, she’s definitely going to come for him.
In fact, it only takes a few more slides across his thigh and her cunt clenches and throbs, orgasm pulling her under and echoing through her body. He’s pulling at her chin, moving her face up towards him, but everything is somewhat blurry as she continues to rut through the aftershocks. His thumb is on her jawline, caressing her bottom lip, gliding over her cheek and he’s saying something to her.
“Oh god,” She manages, completely breathless, and he steals a kiss from her as she realizes he’s already sliding her knickers off of her. Apparently, she’s insatiable, because she’s already aching at the thought of his cock in her.
Draco easily slides her underneath of him, trapping her head between his forearms, cock hard and heavy against her stomach. She grins up at him, trying to wiggle her hand between them to guide him into her. Surprisingly, he lets her, actually smiling at her in a way that makes her heart race.
“Eager witch.” He says, placing a kiss on her brow bone and pressing his hips forward so he sinks into her slick cunt. Hermione lets out a whimper, no matter how wet she is, taking his cock is always a stretch. She can feel every push and pull of him against her walls, clinging to him and pulling him into her.
“Fuck– oh my god –” Hermione can be a bit of a babbler once her minds gone a little, words escape her lips, and she’s not quite sure what they are. All she knows is he’s thrusting into her so perfectly and her second orgasm is already pricking at her.
“So good–” Malfoy groans, dropping his forehead against hers. “So perfect every fucking time.”
“Malfoy,” She stutters, “I’m gonna–”
“You know better than that.” He growls, biting her lip and she yelps at the sting. “Try again.”
He pushes into her fully this time, pelvis flat against hers so he can hit deeper, her arms fly out to try and grasp onto something for leverage, desperate keen leaving her lips. Her hands end up grabbing his arms, nails digging into his flesh as he pounds into her.
“Ah – please, Draco!”
“Much better, are you going to give me another one, sweet girl?” She’s gone at that point, climax taking over as soon as he expressed his satisfaction with her, cunt squeezing his cock.
“So good for me, made for me .” He groans, hips stuttering as he spills into her, and she gasps at the sensation. She trembles through her aftershocks, and he stays inside her so she can twitch around him, body losing all tension and sinking into the mattress.
Draco is surprisingly tender in the afterglow, something that had caught her off guard at first. He would press languid kisses against her lips and neck, nose nuzzled in her hair, body perfectly molded against his. He drowns her in affectionate words that wouldn’t normally leave his lips.
Sweet girl, darling, lovely, perfect, mine.
He says these words to her when they’re having sex, but her brain is usually on standby so she doesn’t actually process them until he’s cuddling her like a cat, blushing like a fool as he murmurs sweet nothings in her ear.
After finally showering and making a quick breakfast, Crookshanks winding around her feet nearly the entire time, Malfoy is at the door pulling on his black coat. He looks positively wicked like this, stark blonde hair against the sharp black angles of his coat, and when it’s paired with his signature scowl practically everyone jumps out of his way when they’re walking around campus. It makes her want to jump his bones every time.
“What are you up to today?” She asks as she helps to straighten out his coat, brushing off nonexistent dirt as an excuse to touch him.
“Visiting my mother.” He answers, the corners of his mouth are pinched, making him look rather sour. Any tenderness from this morning worn off and pocketed away deep down to wherever Malfoy keeps it.
“Ah,” She nods, channeling Gryffindor bravery as he walks towards her floo. “Next week is the last full week of classes.”
Malfoy nods, taking the lid of the vase she uses to hold the floo powder.
“Then finals, and then winter break.” She smiles, and his expression doesn’t change, not seeming to catch on to what she’s trying to needle out of him. That or he doesn’t want to tell her.
Alright, fine.
This is the part that confuses her, the part she’s hesitant to tell Ginny about. The emotional whiplash of him worshiping her body, whispering sweet words that she would have never bet on leaving his lips, to going cold moments later and having to warm him up all over again.
It’s not like it wasn’t like this before they slept together, he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotions or openly flirting with her. No, he scowled at her over a cup of coffee and chastised her for not eating or walked quietly beside her. God, maybe she was reading too much into this.
Drop it now Hermione, before you develop anymore feelings.
“Have a good weekend.” Is what she settles on, stopping a few steps away from him, holding her hands behind her back. It would be weak to reach for him, much too desperate, she can’t bring herself to rely on him.
Then, because he doesn’t want her to understand him whatsoever, he leans forward and gives her a quick kiss goodbye before disappearing into flames of green.
For fucks sake.
“Okay, so just to make sure I’m understanding everything, he’s super nice and sweet before and after sex. But then he’s cold and quiet.” Ginny asks, stirring her gin and tonic with a straw.
“Yes, but even when he’s being a prat, he’ll still do nice things for me.” Hermione sighs.
“Like what?” Harry joins in, leaning over the kitchen counter, brows furrowed. Ginny summons one of her shoes to launch at her husband's head.
“Last time I checked, this was a girls only conversation.” She says with narrowed eyes. “Remember the last time you walked into one of those?”
“Listen, I’m aware Hermione is a consenting adult who can do what she wants, that doesn’t mean I want to hear about who’s shagging her.” Hermione rolls her eyes as Harry continues. “However, if Malfoy’s being a prat, then I want to know.”
“I don’t need you to defend my honor.” She says. “Anyway, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted us, he’ll do nice things for me like buy me lunch, carry my bag, or sit with me at the library.”
Ginny purses her lips and Harry looks unimpressed.
“I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but I mean, is that really nice? Or just like expected dating behavior?” Ginny asks and Hermione smacks her hand down on the table in frustration.
“That’s what I mean! We’re not dating! We’re lab partners and we’ve shagged a few times, but it’s not like we’ve been on an actual date.”
“You invited him to the Halloween party though.” Harry points out and Hermione gives him a withering look that immediately makes Ginny cackle, which only makes him look more confused.
“What?”
“Harry, when did you last remember seeing Hermione and Malfoy at the party?” Ginny asks, looking very amused while Hermione wants to slam her head into the table repeatedly.
“I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention, you did put an entire bottle of vodka into the punchbowl.”
“Yes, yes , I’m aware of how everyone feels about my heavy handedness. Darling, what I’m trying to say is that they left the party early to shag.” Hermione buries her face in her hands to avoid seeing whatever facial expression accompanies Harry’s undignified squawk, trying to feel grateful that at least Ginny left out the part where they shagged in the backyard.
“He’s just so fit!” Hermione finally caves, letting everything she’s had buried for the past few months flow out of her. “Like, so bloody fit. Plus, he’s a whiz with Chemistry, I actually look forward to lab with him. He makes me feel–feel–I don’t know! I guess that’s the whole point, he actually makes me feel something.”
She slumps over, downing the rest of her vodka cranberry, shivering as it goes down because as stated before, Ginny had a heavy pour.
Her redheaded friend pats her hand sympathetically.
“Plus he’s basically a sex god right?”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Hermione agrees, ignoring Harry as he gags at the counter.
“Okay, enough of that.” Harry grumbles. “You can talk about all that later when I’m not around. Hermione, I just want you to be careful. I don’t think Malfoy is a bad guy, but I certainly don’t understand him.”
“This is ridiculous.” Hermione decides. “I’m mooning over a man like a bloody fifth year, I just have to accept it for what it is, and get over it.”
Yes, she’d just have to accept that whatever they had going on was coming to an end once the semester was over. Ginny and Harry shared a look, then turned back to Hermione.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a relationship–”
“No, I’ve just got a little sidetracked. Time to refocus on my work and stop worrying about dating.” She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince ultimately, her friends or herself.
The flames of their candle wavered, and perhaps it was time for Hermione to pull back and just let the smoke rise.
They go about their usual quiet on Monday, with their final project being due at the beginning of next week, it’s their only conversation topic.
He walks her from class like usual, and she separates from him to grade papers.
And Hermione hates the nerves that have grown from weeds to vines in the pit of her belly, curling around her heart and up into her throat. She wonders when she’ll choke on them. She’s furious with herself for getting attached, but at least she had caught it early, before she started to count on him.
He’ll leave. They always leave.
Hermione slips back into her routine before Malfoy came along, refocusing her efforts into her projects and classwork. Sleep eludes her that night, as well as Tuesday, but that’s not too much of a surprise. It always came in waves.
A cave of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.
Malfoy stares at her when she enters the lab on Wednesday, and she pretends not to notice, throwing her hair up and grabbing the goggles he has laid out for her. Once they’re out of the building afterwards, he tugs on her elbow, frown evident on his face.
“Let me take you home.” He says, trying to redirect them from her usual route.
“No, I can’t today, I have to finish preparing the exam for Dr. Wenly’s class.”
This makes his brows furrow, eyes narrowing at her.
“After then, I’ll wait.”
Hermione bites her lip, vines clawing at her throat, trying to swallow them down. She’s never actually denied him before, and she honestly wonders how he’ll react.
“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.”
Malfoy stares at her for a moment before nodding.
“I’ll see you on Friday.” Then he places a kiss at the top of her head, giving her hand a squeeze before she begins her walk to the biology building.
There’s become a point in her life, since the war, in the years that linger where her brain manages to shut everything out. Where she can push out thoughts and feelings to focus on one specific thing, to go into a survival mode, that’s what she calls it at least. It happens to her at least once a semester, when things get really intense, or around certain times of year when her memories run away from her.
Hermione lets her body take over, trying so hard to take pliers the the vines that wrap around her inside, let them fall and be dissolved in the acid that sits in her stomach.
In this exhilaration, there is desolate loneliness.
She doesn’t sleep that night, but she does manage a few hours on Thursday.
When she looks in the mirror on Friday morning, she does look rather horrid, so she casts a light glamor. Along with some muggle makeup, concealer under her eye and along with blush to give her some color so she looks more like a woman than a ghost of the verge of extinction.
Malfoy sees through it, of course, but that doesn’t matter because their final is on Monday. That’s it. It’s not like he’s discussed wanting to see her afterwards anyway, so she just needs to get through today and Monday. He’s wearing that fucking coat, the black one that makes him look sharp and despicable in the best ways, it makes Monday seem so far, it makes the rest of her days seem so lonely.
“You look terrible.” He tells her as they leave the building, and she rolls her eyes.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yes, as you’ve mentioned. I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing you this weekend then?” His tone is…well she doesn’t quite understand it, and when she turns to look at him, he’s pulled his expression neutral.
“You certainly don’t have to, I’m sure you’re busy as well.”
“Are you staying on campus today?” She blinks rapidly and opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. “Actually, you’re not, I’m taking you home.”
He wraps an arm around her to move them forward and Hermione splutters.
“You can’t just–!”
“I can, and I am. You can run back later for all I care, but right now we’re leaving.” She realizes then that he’s still carrying her bag for her, and the chances of her managing to get it back without using magic are nonexistent. She’s so tired, her body wants to collapse in on itself.
When they arrive at her flat, Crookshanks meows happily at her, and Malfoy walks right into her kitchen to put the kettle on. She tries to ignore him, walking over to the couch and pulling out one of her texts while Crooks crawls into her lap.
It’s when Malfoy hands her a plate with a sandwich on it that Hermione is fairly certain she’s gone insane. She looks up at him, blinking like an idiot while he just stares expectantly back down at her.
“Eat you fool, I don’t know how you haven’t whittled yourself away to nothing yet.” Then he turns and goes back to the kitchen.
She’s still staring at the sandwich when he returns with a cup of tea.
“Granger, it’s not that complicated, you take a bite and chew.”
“I know how to eat!” She snaps, flush rising up her neck to her cheeks.
“Oh really? What is it then? Not to your liking?” He taunts, silver eyes sharp in a way that definitely should not arouse her.
“No–” God, she really doesn’t understand him. “You just didn’t have to do that, thank you.”
She mumbles the last part, taking a small bite and avoids his eyes.
Malfoy crosses his arms, taking a seat next to her looking annoyed. Obligation. The word weighs down on her, making the little amount of food in her belly curdle. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to take care of her.
Give him the excuse he needs to leave, her brain tells her.
“I’m sure you’re busy with finals projects, I won’t keep you.” Hermione says, finishing her food and placing it on the coffee table in front of her. “Thank you for lunch, that was very kind.”
“I’ve finished my projects, I only have our final lab next week.” He replies, standing and offering his hand, which she stares at in return.
“What?”
“We’re going to do a little something called taking a nap, I’m sure you’ve never heard of it, so let me teach you.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, pulling her off the couch and lifting her up into his arms.
Oh for fucks sake.
“Draco Malfoy!” She practically screeches, attempting to kick her legs.
“Oh hush, you can hex me after your nap.”
Despite all her thrashing and kicking, he sets her gently onto the bed, looking quite smug as he pulls the blanket over her. It’s ludicrous really, being tucked into bed by him.
“You’re ridiculous.” She accuses, and he slides in bed next to her.
“You’re one to talk, have you managed to sleep at all this week?”
“I slept three hours last night.” She says lamely, and Malfoy tuts. Her eyes burn, panic bubbling up in her chest, which is ridiculous because she has no real reason to be upset.
She just wants to be numb, it used to be so easy when she was numb, to work herself until the brink of nothing and dangle on the edge. Her bed brings her no comfort, body tensing, and she thinks maybe her blood bubbles beneath her skin. Yes, her lungs are being strangled, breath rapidly leaving her to deflate until she’s nothing but skin and organs.
“Granger?” Draco’s voice is soft, calling to her from somewhere out of her vision, but she can’t seem to turn her head.
He needs to leave, he cannot see her in such a way, which she supposes is a little delusional considering the torture she once went through on his drawing room floor. But that had been out of her control, everything then had been out of her control, not anymore. No, everything is supposed to be for her now.
A gentle touch caresses her cheek, cool fingertips tracing upward over her forehead. Hermione’s gaze finally focuses, blinking Malfoy into a clear image ( frowning, he’s always frowning) .
“You should probably go.” Hermione manages to say, voice surprisingly even despite the fact that her lungs are surely deflating inside her ribcage.
Malfoy’s eyes widen just a fraction, if she were someone that didn’t spend most of her time staring at his stupidly handsome face, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed it.
“I’ll go once I’m sure you’re asleep.” He retorts, looking very unamused.
The chance of her actually falling asleep is extremely unlikely, she has so much she needs to get done.
“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.” She glares up at him, rather childish she supposes, but no matter. He was being ridiculous, and so weird . Draco was never this pushy, at least not since the day she fainted after lab and he forced her home from campus.
“I can help with that.” His voice is smooth, low in a way that makes heat settle into her bones. It catches her completely off guard, lips parting in surprise only for him to lean down and press his own against them.
He always smells so wonderful, like cedar and fresh linens, her hands wander into his hair before she even realizes she’s doing it, clutching silken strands between her fingers. Hermione can feel him smirk against her mouth, dipping to nip at her jaw and lave his tongue over her pulse point.
Malfoy pulls back the covers, gently settling over her, not putting his weight down so he can make quick work to undress her. Hermione feels a laugh bubble within her, inflating her lungs and breath finding her again.
She sits up slightly and lets him remove her jumper, he tosses it off to the floor to join her trousers. Should she be frustrated with him? She’s fairly certain this wasn’t one giant ploy to shag her, but at the same time she’s very sure it’s not because he cares about her well being either.
His fingers run over her ribs, mouth still lavishing her neck, and a steady pulse builds between her thighs. Hermione lets out a sigh when his hand slips under her brassiere, thumbing over her nipple, mouth dropping to nip at her collarbone. In the few amount of times they’ve shagged, he’d picked up on how to work her body alarmingly quick.
That scared her too, that he paid attention. He studied her, and very rarely did Hermione find herself as the subject rather than the academic. It was a ruthless study of her, he did not want to leave any detail unturned.
Draco’s tongue circling her nipple snapped her out of whatever spiral of self-pity she had let herself fall down, she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure that built, her knickers already embarrassingly soaked.
“Come back to me.” He murmurs, lips skimming the underside of her breast, cool fingers ghosting over her clothed clit, the sensation making her hips jolt. “Let me make you feel good.”
He always made her feel good. That’s what got her in trouble in the first place.
It’s when his lips reach her navel that she gets an idea of what he wants to do, so Hermione sits up, trying to tug him back up to her mouth. He’d attempted this once before, but she’d managed to distract him then, oral sex had never been a particularly exciting experience for her and it always ended in her having to pretend to be grateful for something that had given her nothing.
“Nice try, lay back down.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but Hermione plans on arguing anyway.
“I promise there’s no need for that.” She responds, closing her thighs only for him to pry them back open with one hand, peeling her knickers off with the other.
“I assure you there is.” Malfoy says, swirling the tip of his finger in her arousal before pressing it back onto her clit, and damn him, her lashes flutter at the feeling. He knew just the right amount of pressure that had her begging for more.
She wants to fight, but her voice dies in her throat when he easily slips two fingers inside of her, an embarrassing keen leaves her lips instead. He curves his fingers up, searching for the elusive spot he’d hit with his cock once before, that spot that made her vision white out.
“My sweet girl,” He murmurs, nipping at the inside of her thigh, “Let me taste just how sweet you are.”
Hermione processes what his words mean just a tad too late, but when his lips wrap around her clit she practically melts back into the sheets. He devours her like an animal, like it’s his fucking birthright, fingers pushing farther and farther back into her cunt while his tongue works incessantly against her slippery folds.
It was perfect, of course it was, because it was him. His fingers curved so wonderfully inside her, his tongue swirled over her, and she realizes the rather lewd sound she’s hearing is coming from her and she should probably have the decency to be ashamed.
Except the shame does not make an appearance because Draco adjusts the angle of his fingers, curving them upward once more and hitting her just so perfectly .
“Oh fuck– yes— please right there –” Her words are slightly slurred, her cunt flutters around his fingers, more slick spilling into his palm as pleasure continues to build low in her pelvis, hot in her belly, consuming her in fire.
“Such a good girl, my perfect, perfect witch.” Malfoy praises from between her thighs. “You tasted just as sweet as I imagined.”
A whine escapes her as he suckles on her clit again, fingers continuing to press against that spot in her cunt, a pressure she’s never felt before begins to build in her abdomen and she twitches from the feeling.
“You’re not going to deny me the taste of you anymore, are you?” He challenges, his gaze is raw starlight that burns too bright, she’s not sure how her skin isn’t smoking.
Words fail her, brain shutting off as he continues his ministrations.
“Answer me, Hermione.” He nips at her inner thigh and she yelps, his voice is dark.
“No!” God, she’s almost in tears, she’d never felt like this before. “Whatever you want, please–”
He rewards her for her words, tongue teasing over her clit as she tries to keep her hips still. Her brain is mush, certainly mush, he’s ruined her. What the fuck was he doing to her?
“Fuck– oh my god –” Her thighs snap around him, but she tries to push his head away with her hands at the same time, because fuck it felt so good, but she was so certain her body was about to snap.
Malfoy lifts his head, using his other hand that isn’t buried inside her to rub her clit, and he presses a gentle kiss to her navel.
“You’re doing so well, darling.” He encourages, eyes gleaming so earnestly it hurts her. “Such a good girl, letting me take care of you, do you feel so good?”
It should be patronizing, the way he speaks to her when they’re like this, but it doesn’t feel that way to her. Not when he’s looking at her like she’s hung the moon, light shining from his irises.
“Yes– ” The words are strangled as they leave her lips. “So good— please –”
“Are you going to come for me? Always so pretty when you come for me.” She’s hanging on the edge of something, body coiled taunt as she tries not to curve inward on herself, Malfoy is her guiding light out of the tunnel. “I think I’ll finish you with my tongue, would you like that darling?”
Hermione sobs, body quivering as she tries to make her voice work again.
“Please – yes, Draco please —” He takes his time finding his way back down to her, resting his cheek against her thigh and staring at her cunt with a devious sparkle in his eyes, which was something she would definitely need to talk to him about later.
However, then he sucks on her clit again, and she finally bursts. Her vision whites out, stars smattering across the cosmos that makes up her body, cunt squeezing and clenching around Malfoy’s fingers. Hermione is fairly certain her brain has completely melted in her skull and pleasure continues to fissure out of her, sparking and catching flames, making her burn even hotter as he continues to coax an orgasm that just keeps going and going out of her.
There is nothing to compare this orgasm to, and she’s trying and hoping she doesn’t look like a complete fool as her body wracks with each aftershock. She registers vaguely that Malfoy is placing gentle kisses against her clit, his fingers have stopped their movement, but he lets her continue to pulse around them. She’s completely wrung out, empty, as if he had squeezed every ounce of pleasure from her cunt.
Only when her body stops twitching and she sinks boneless into the mattress does he finally pull away, and he’s so, so tender as he does. His lips press soft kisses against her thigh and move up her body, whispering those sweet nothings to her all the while.
“So good for me—”
“—don’t deserve you–”
“Beautiful witch—”
“I could do that to you forever–”
Hermione has the decency to blush as she tries to catch her breath again, feeling light as a feather against her sheets.
“You were positively stunning, what a pretty mess you made for me.” He tells her, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and that’s when she notices it. The wet splotches across his jumper, and panic quickly finds its way back to her body.
“What…?” Hermione forces herself up, mortification freezing every muscle in her body when she realizes that it’s across his trousers and the white of her sheets. There’s a wetness between her thighs that is so much more than usual, horror increasing when she realizes it’s actually dripping off of her. “Oh my god!”
She slaps her hands over her mouth and Malfoy has the fucking nerve to chuckle.
“Malfoy, oh my god, I’m so sorry–I’ve never—I mean that’s never happened to me before!” As if things couldn’t get any worse, she feels her eyes start to burn, tears welling and threatening to spill.
“Then how lucky I am to be the first.” He’s gentle with her, pressing his body against hers and wrapping an arm around her.
“It’s all over you! And–and you had your face– !” Hermione is desperately trying not to lose her mind, but he just smirks at her. He looks so fucking smug, but his eyes are sparkling, as if he’s never been more delighted in his life with his chin and lips covered in her. Little droplets of her orgasm drip from the corner of his lip, his tongue darting out to catch them and she shudders.
“Yes, like I said, quite lucky to have tasted you.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s incredibly sexy.” She’s going to hit him, or hex him, but considering her wand is in her trouser pocket on the floor, hitting will probably be quicker.
He catches her hand however, lowering it until it presses against his straining erection, and she gapes at him.
“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.”
There's a flutter low in her belly, heat flushing through her at his words. And despite having the most intense orgasm of her life, her cunt begins to ache again at the thought of his cock inside her.
She pulls up his jumper, wiping the sheen of her arousal off his face with the hem before tossing it on the floor with the rest of her clothing and pulling him in for a kiss. He responds by pulling her into his lap, and she quickly unbuttons his trousers.
“I think you’ve ruined me,” He laments, eyes lazy as they trail down her body, taking extra time to admire her naked chest. “I can’t even wank without thinking of you.”
Hermione wants to scoff, because that’s just utterly ridiculous, but she gets distracted as his cock pops out from his trousers. Malfoy hisses at her touch, she slides her hand around the ooze of precum around the head, stroking and squeezing him. He gets impatient, pulling her up and overtop of him, sliding his cock between the sticky mess of her.
She moans as she sinks down on top of him, his cock stretching and pulling her insides, bumping against that same spot that made her burst only moments ago.
“Fucking hell–” She’s breathless, second orgasm already pricking at the base of her spine, it’s embarrassing.
Draco lets her grind down on top of him, letting her chase what she needs, his hands are firm at her hips while his mouth sucks bruises on her neck. She can’t come so soon, not yet, she knows his ability to pluck pleasure from her body is astonishing but it simply can’t be this astonishing. No, she needed to slow down.
Hermione tries to switch tactics, stopping to move up on her knees, to bounce on him the way she knows he likes. The way that forces noises from him, where he can’t keep his eyes off her tits and looks at her like she’s the first naked woman he’s ever seen, it gets her quite drunk on power. However, his hands hold her firm, and she struggles against him for a moment.
“What are you doing, kitten?” His grip around her tightens, holding her still.
“I—” She stops, face heating at the thought of having to admit how close she is to coming again so soon after her first. “I want to make you feel good.”
In hopes of distracting him, she tips her head down to kiss him. And while he does seem distracted as he licks the inside of her mouth, his grip remains firm so he can begin to push her back and forth on him again.
“Draco–” She whines, orgasm bubbling back to its previous climb, her hands scrambling to his chest to try and push herself off.
“Oh dear, are you close again? Is that what you’re trying to stop?” His grin is devilish, and it sends another wave of heat rolling through her body. He angles her forward so she grinds perfectly against him and her eyes roll back, his cock rigid and hot inside her.
“That’s it, take what you need, darling.” And Hermione wants to argue, to push back, to do something, but considering the fact that her brain was barely recovering from being completely melted a few minutes ago…well it doesn’t take her long to melt again.
“Such a good girl you are, and you’re my good girl aren’t you?” Malfoy’s tone dips, and she has to bite back a moan. “ All mine . I’m the only one that makes you like this, isn’t that right?”
He’s speaking into her lips, and she swallows the praise without hesitation, it dissolves like sugar on her tongue. Her peak is well within reach and she’s not sure if she should let it happen or try to stave it off again.
“Draco–please, I’m so close–” The words leave her throat as a gasp, his fingers quickly finding her clit, cunt pulsing around him in response.
“That’s my girl, can you give me another one?” His mouth presses against hers as she cries out against him, cunt spasming as her orgasm washes over her again, heat shooting up her spine and skin crackling.
Somehow, during her second climax, Hermione ends up on her back. Draco hovers above her, pressing heated kisses against her lips as she tries to catch her breath, chest rapidly rising and falling so it presses against his.
“Hermione,” Her name rolling off his tongue makes her shutter. “I want you to listen to me carefully, darling. Can you do that for me?”
She thinks she’s nodding, she must be because he smiles at her.
“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.” Her eyes go wide with panic, and his smile quickly turns devilish.
“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.”
Hermione whimpers, the feel of his cock making her eyes roll back.
“There it is.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to her throat, and then he begins to fuck her in earnest. “So perfect just like this, you were made for my cock–”
Fucking, fuck, fuck —it’s a mess, slick from her previous orgasms drip from her with each thrust, spilling down her thighs, but it’s so good . She vaguely hears herself begging, begging for what? She’s not really sure, but she knows that Draco’s going to give it to her. He always does.
The build of her third orgasm is vicious, almost painful, yet so wonderful as Draco pounds into her relentlessly. It’s her favorite way to see him, control slipping, breath catching, and eyes nearly feral as he looks at her.
“Draco–I can’t, it’s too much–”
“You will.” He snaps his hips and she nearly yelps, pulling air into her lungs and tears welling in her eyes. “You’re going to give me one more, let me see it, darling.”
Her world is spinning, she’s lost in the euphoria of another orgasm. She’d be surprised if her brain would ever fully reform as Draco pulls every ounce of pleasure from her body,
“Let me feel you come on my cock, I need it. Hermione, I need it –”
Hermione is devoured, shrieking as the taught string that’s left of her pleasure snapping, cunt pulsing around Draco’s cock and he finally gives over to his own pleasure. With his cock buried inside her, he spills hot and molten, mixing with the new wave of slick that gushes from her.
His weight is a welcome blanket as he relaxes on top of her, skin sticky and warm against her own. Oh god, she’s never came that much in her entire life. Fuck, she’s never fucking squirted in her entire life either, yet he’s managed to pull that from her too.
She’s ruined, entirely ruined. No one had ever managed to make her body react the way he could make her react.
Hermione’s heart rate finally begins to settle, the exhaustion that’s been hiding beneath her skin surfaces, and the rhythm of Draco’s steadying breath begins to pull her under. His arm reaches around her, pulling her into his side as he mutters a cleansing charm and cleans the mess that pools between her thighs.
He’s muttering something to her, but she isn’t really able to focus, brain still melty inside her skull and the world around her fuzzy as her eyelids droop. His lips press against her jaw, and his familiar cedar scent lulls her down into darkness.
It’s completely dark when Hermione opens her eyes again. She’s ridiculously groggy and her bladder pushes instantly at her.
After throwing on a ratty shirt from her closet, she steps into the soft light of the hallway to use her toilet, and god her cunt is sore, and she should probably shower. A shower would have to wait because given that Crookshanks wasn’t snuggled into bed next to her, Draco was probably still in the apartment.
Hermione winces from the light of her living room, Draco turning his head from where he reads a book on her sofa, the mercury of his irises gleam in the low lamplight, a ball of orange fur curled at his feet. The radiance of him echoes through the small room, finite, as though she’s still dreaming.
“What time is it?” Her voice crackles in her throat, Draco closes the book and her heart nearly leaps into her throat when she sees the title on the cover. The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories.
“Half ten,” He responds, setting the book on the coffee table.
“Fuck, I should not have slept that long. I’m sorry, you didn’t have to stay, please don’t let me keep you any longer.” She spins on her heels back to the entryway where she set her bag to retrieve her textbook.
A hand on her shoulder stops her.
“Let's slow down a moment, shall we?” She realizes that he’s changed clothes, now in a long sleeve and joggers.
“I should really be studying.” Hermione responds Draco rolls his eyes at her, tugging her back into the kitchen.
“I think you can spare the rest of your evening to properly take care of your body.”
She blinks wildly at the takeaway on the counter, the two containers that are left under a stasis charm. He turns to put the kettle on and something hot bubbles within her. Embarrassment for earlier, despair for his obligation, the panic that all of this would be over soon. That once the semester ended he would be out of her life and she would be alone in this flat again.
There would be no one to brighten up her monotonous days, to force her to stop and get a coffee in the middle of her busy schedule, no one to poke at her when she gets too serious, or kiss her when things got too overwhelming. It had only been two months. How could she let this happen to her? How could she have been so stupid to let him wedge a place in her heart?
“I still need to study, and I have a project to finish–” She spewing excuses, pushing down those fucking vines that continue to regrow within her no matter how many times she takes an axe to them.
Draco slamming his hand down on the countertop stops her thoughts, and she looks up at him surprised. His jaw is clenched, eyes screwed shut, and she can tell that’s trying to keep his breath steady.
Here it is. This is what she’s been waiting for. That he’s going to leave, that he’s tired of her, that he’s done.
“What is going on with you?” He grits out through clenched teeth and her hackles rise.
“I told you. I have a busy week and finals is in two days–”
“No. No, I don’t believe that one bit.” His eyes are stony and her pounding heartbeat echoes in her ears.
Just cut me out already.
“You don’t believe it?” She asks incredulously.
“No. What’s going on with you?” Draco repeats, arms crossing, pulling himself up to full height to stare her down. Hermione refuses to be intimidated into a breakup.
“Whatever you’re instigating, I’m not buying into it. I know what you’re going to say, so just say it already.” She stands toe to toe with him, trying to force her face neutral, to hide the turmoil that brews inside her.
For a few moments, they say nothing, standing in tense silence. He is the wolf again, all sharp teeth and Greek fire, perhaps he’ll tear her to shreds with his cruelty and leave her for the vultures, throw her bones into the fire, and she’ll have deserved it for her foolishness.
“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.”
That throws her off, her brows burrow in confusion.
“What?”
“You were sleeping. You were eating. You seemed to be doing well.” His voice softens, posture breaking, head dipping down so his nose brushes against hers. Hermione nearly breaks.
“The semester ends this week.” She says weakly. Now it’s his turn to look confused.
“Yes.” He agrees.
“And lab will be over.”
“Yes, that is how classes work.”
“We won’t have lab together anymore.” Hermione says. “You won’t see me anymore.”
His hands find her biceps, squeezing gently.
“Why won’t I see you?” He’s never spoken to her this softly outside of sex before.
“We only see each other on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, then Saturdays when you stay over.” Hermione doesn’t know how to be more clear. “I tried to say something last Saturday. You didn’t say anything, so I figured I just wouldn’t see you after our final.”
“That's what you were trying to say? All you did was talk about the semester ending!” He goes ramrod straight again and Hermione is tired of the back and forth.
“I’m sick of this! Are you breaking this off or not?”
“No! Why would I break things off?” Draco huffs, chest puffing out.
“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.”
“While you were fucking me!” He scoffs, spinning away from her as the kettle finally begins to whistle.
“Oh, so just because I said it during sex, I must not mean it?” Steaming water splatters into the mugs, splashing over the edge. “I mean everything I say to you.”
He turns, movement sharp.
“Everything.”
Hermione’s cheeks heat as every filthy word, every sweet nothing, every whisper runs through her mind in that moment. He clatters a tea cup in front of her, as if to prove a point.
“You only say it during sex and then you essentially say nothing at all once our clothes are back on, how was I supposed to understand that?”
“So that means I’m lying?”
“Well from every relationship I’ve had before—“ Hermione cuts herself at the slip of her tongue, eye widening and snapping her mouth shut.
They’ve never talked about past relationships, never talked about anything really if this argument was to prove how poor their communication truly was.
They all left. Always. They said they cared, it always ended up being too much, sweet words to part her legs and then nothing once it came to her nightmares and sleep deprivation.
Draco seems to realize all at once what she’s about to say, eyes widening. It’s too vulnerable. She wants to go back to shouting.
“I’m not worth any more of your time, Draco. It’s a waste.” She doesn’t know when she became so weak, isn’t sure exactly when she started thinking of herself as a waste of time.
He’s across the counter in a flash, and he’s holding her, hands cupping her jaw to force her to look straight at him.
“You’re insufferable, and you drive me fucking batty.” He sucks in a breath. “You’re careful, precise, and so bloody detailed. I’ve never seen anyone absorb information like you do, nonetheless actually understand it.”
Oh dear, heat pricks at her eyes and she blinks rapidly to will it away.
“You’re cheeky and clever, your mouth is sin itself, and I could suffocate between your thighs and die happily.” He’s got that damn smile on again, the one that lies just between sweet and snarky.
“I squirted on your face.” She grumbles, feeling crude, and Draco laughs. Laughs.
It’s a wonderful loud noise that’s low and bounces off the walls of her flat, making Crookshanks jump up from he sits on the sofa. She’s caught in the crossfire, body rippling with warmth, noise ringing in her ears. He’s never laughed like that before.
“Alright,” He concedes. “Drown between your thighs and die happy.”
He closes the gap between them, lips pressing gently against hers, and she decides that she must confess. Because Draco is trying, clearly trying to express to her what has been living between them, and she is no good at vulnerability, but she must try.
“I like you.” Hermione says quietly, almost a whisper, but not quite.
And gone is the snark from his smile, leaving only the sweet that she often sees in the afterglow of sex. Tender is a word that comes to mind, but she’s not sure, for insecurity has made a home inside her.
“It frightens me, after–after everything. And I’m supposed to be brave, but I can’t decide if bravery is vulnerability or protection.” She admits and Draco nods. “I feel like I’ve done everything possible to scare you away, yet you’re still here.”
“I like you.” Draco echoes back to 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.”
Another kiss and she realizes her cheeks are wet when his thumbs brush across them.
“Let me take you back to bed, four hours of sleep is certainly not enough to compensate for an entire week.” And she lets him. He brings the teacup with him, filling her room with soft light for her to finish the mug as he fusses over her.
It’s funny when he does this. Such an odd fellow he is sometimes.
“Are we giving this a proper go?” Hermione asks sleepily once the tea is drunk, burrowed deep within her covers, lids growing heavier.
“If you’ll have me.” Draco responds.
“Are you going to be this nice all the time?” She mutters, body threatening to give into sleep when he turns out the lights. She hears him scoff.
“Do you want me to be nice to you all the time?” He retorts.
Hermione thinks for a moment, imagining him cuddling up to her in public then cringes, it’s almost impossible to picture him doing something like that. She’s never really been that kind of girl.
Also, she would never admit this to him, but she does quite like that people freeze and move out of the way when they’re walking together. When he’s sharp features, dark clothes, and staring down anyone that comes into his line of vision. It sends a thrill up her spine.
“No, I like it when you save it just for me.” She can feel Draco smile, his face tucked into her neck, nose pressed into her curls.
“Only for you. It’s only ever been for you.”