Work Text:
Hermione had been foolish enough to believe that living with her ex would be easy.
Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration—nothing about them had ever been easy.
The breakup itself had been excruciating, a decision Hermione had agonized over for months after watching his relationships with his parents erode due to disagreements over his life choices. Namely, her.
When he hadn’t argued with her decision, that told her everything she needed to know. He'd been stoic and matter-of-fact about the whole thing, and Hermione did her best to follow suit.
It was silly anyway, expecting him to fight for her when she was the one who’d broken things off.
And yet, he was still here.
Living together was supposed to be temporary. He’d offered to move out once he found a place, and Hermione had offered to help him look.
Neither had quite gotten around to it, and nearly two months later, she was forced to admit to herself that living together was neither temporary nor easy.
For one thing, he was nearly always home. Hermione couldn’t get away from seeing him day after day, feeling that annoying pang in her chest every damn time.
For another, it hadn't seemed to occur to him that walking around in a towel after his shower was no longer acceptable. She’d learned to hide in her room when she heard him in the shower lest they have any other half-naked encounters that led to less than good decision making on Hermione’s part.
And lastly, he’d recently started dating again. Granted, it was admittedly at her urging.
She was far from ready to move on herself but there was no reason why he shouldn’t. Yet again, he’d all too easily obliged.
Hermione dove into work, taking on extra projects here and there, anything to keep from thinking about it, or letting regret creep in.
When he told her he was going out on a third date on Valentine’s Day, he’d said it flippantly like he expected her not to care. She responded just as flippantly because she didn’t. Really.
It was fine. She was fine.
***
On that particular day, Hermione had a long, stressful day at work.
Valentine’s Day was normally one of her favorite holidays. She loved the gaudiness of it, the chocolate, the decor, the romance of it all. This year, it made her want to run for the hills.
Everywhere she looked, red and pink hearts floated around the Ministry, and everyone else seemed inexplicably and irritatingly cheerful.
All the festivity was enough to give her a migraine.
She came home to an empty flat, grateful for the quiet, already knowing what she needed to take the edge off. Maybe after, she could fall asleep and forget that the merlinforsaken holiday even existed.
Hermione tried not to think about where he was or even worse, who he was with. Instead, she chose to focus on the positive.
He was out, and finally, she could release some tension without having to place silencing and privacy charms in every nook and cranny of her room for fear that her ex-boyfriend would hear her.
Not even bothering to fully undress, she shimmied her knickers out from under her skirt, and lay down on her bed, setting her wand to vibrate.
It was unfortunate that the only thing that seemed to work to get her off was him.
No matter how hard she tried to replace it, to erase the memory of how he’d felt inside her, fucking her deep, her mind always circled back to him when she touched herself.
As always, she surrendered to it.
She thought of him, dropping his towel in the hallway, cupping the underside of his cock, the perfection of which she’d been all too familiar with, holding it like an offering to her.
Her hips began to undulate as she imagined dropping to her knees and licking salt from the slit, then taking his cock deep into her throat, finding comfort in the familiar weight of him on the back of her tongue.
She thought of what he might say, how his hands might slide into her hair, forcing her to take him faster, deeper until she gagged.
She whimpered his name, her cunt clenching around nothing as she imagined he’d pull her up, turn her around, yank her skirt up and her knickers down and—
A throat cleared.
Hermione gasped and jolted up, only to find Draco standing in her doorway. He was dressed in formal robes looking every bit the part of a man who had been out on a date.
Except…he wasn’t.
“What are you doing here?”
His throat bobbed, and his eyes looked a bit crazed or dazed, she wasn’t quite sure which.
“I live here,” was his hoarse response.
Hermione stared at him from her bed, skirt pulled up to her waist, her wand still buzzing happily in her hand.
Well, this was awkward.
He was supposed to be out romancing his new beau on Valentine’s Day. Instead he’d caught Hermione about to give herself perhaps the most intense orgasm of her life simply from remembering what it felt like to be throat-deep with his cock.
Not to mention, it was unlike him to just come barging into her room.
“I heard—” Draco swallowed again. “I thought I heard you whimpering and, well, I guess I did hear you whimpering and oh Salazar— I’ll just go.”
Hermione had never seen Draco turn quite so pink in her life (well, save for the moments just before he came when he was fucking her stupid) nor had she ever seen him retreat quite so quickly from the threshold of her bedroom.
Well, shit. She lay there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.
She could Obliviate him. Merlin knew she was an expert at that by now. A little too good at it really.
That seemed extreme. Everybody masturbated. Even Draco, though she tried not to think about it too much because of…obvious reasons.
Although it was better than imagining him with anyone else. Just the thought of that was enough to make her sick.
Or, she supposed, she could pull what was left of her Gryffindor courage, and she could face him and have a conversation like the two adults they were supposed to be.
***
With her cunt still wet and twitching, she tossed her wand aside and rose from her bed. She didn’t bother putting her knickers back on—her Ministry approved skirt was long enough to cover her bits.
She did, however, attempt to fix some of the curls that had sprung out of her bun, attempting to muster some semblance of dignity, though she quickly gave up.
Walking down the hall towards the guest bedroom—now Draco’s room (temporarily!)—she noticed his door was mostly closed, but he’d left it open just a crack.
She froze when she heard him—frantic, ragged breathing, and the telltale sound of skin sliding on slick skin.
Peering through the crack, she saw him. He stood facing away from the door, but she could still see his hand moving on his cock, up and down the length, twisting up at the tip, while his other hand cupped his balls.
He’d clearly been in a hurry. His trousers were still on, his belt still intact. He’d simply unzipped them, to get to his cock. She wondered if he was thinking about his date or if—
“Godsdammit, Hermione. Fuck,” he swore quietly as his hand moved faster. “Gods, I wanna fuck you so badly.”
Hermione stopped breathing and her cunt tingled. She leaned in unintentionally, mesmerized by the sight of Draco fucking his hand—to thoughts of her, evidently.
She should go. Scurry back to her room and finish what she’d started, then pretend the whole thing had never happened.
The floorboards creaked.
Reflexively, Hermione jumped away from the door, but it was too late. He turned and saw her there. There was no point in hiding, and she stepped around to face him full on.
His face looked about the same as hers probably had when he'd walked in on her. She could feel heat in her cheeks and knew they were likely an unflattering shade of pink.
“Hermione, I—“
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I understand.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off of his cock, harder than she’d ever seen it, the head swollen and flushed, glistening precum at the slit.
Unconsciously, she licked her lips, and his cock twitched as she did so.
“Hermione.” He gasped her name out this time.
They stared at each other, and before Hermione could really even begin to clock who moved first, she was in the center of his room, up on her tippy toes with her arms around his neck.
His tongue was in her mouth, and his cock was pressed wet and sticky against her belly, hot through the thin silk of her work blouse.
They were both moaning and whimpering and muttering half formed, ridiculous words.
They fell on the bed, him on top of her, catching himself with his hands on the mattress. He lay between her legs with his cock nestled right between her folds.
“Put it in me,” she moaned arching up against him. “I need it. You–I, oh gods.”
He grunted, grinding himself against her, leaving a warm, wet trail, before the head of his erection nudged into her soaked entrance.
All it took was the slightest shift of his hips, and then he was inside her. Hermione’s head fell back, gasping and crying out, and she wrapped her legs around him.
He buried his face in her neck, swearing with each thrust. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
But they were, and there was no going back now.
And oh gods, it felt like nothing she could ever describe. The perfect stretch of him, moving inside her, dragging along all of her most sensitive spots, as if he were made for her specifically.
It was devastating, it was stupid, it was fucking everything.
Hermione had tried very hard, day after day after day, not to love him anymore, but it didn’t appear to be working. Her heart throbbed and the muscles of her cunt clutched him tighter.
“So fucking warm and tight and wet. Too fucking perfect,” he muttered, palming her breasts through her blouse, mouthing down her throat. “Hard as I try, I can’t fucking forget how you feel.”
The cold metal of his belt buckle against her tender skin made her gasp, and she clenched, hard.
“I’m gonna come, Draco. I’m—oh shit—”
And then she was gone, lost to everything except the contractions of her cunt, and the pulsing of her clit, the slick heat of him moving in and out, and the ruinous way in which they fit together.
She heard Draco groan and then he froze, trembling as he came into her, with warm spurts of his release that seemed endless.
For what felt like an eternity, they lay tangled together, pulsing and throbbing and gasping and moaning.
But what goes up, must come down, and all too soon, their eyes were open, staring wide at each other as they grappled together with what they’d done. Again.
He shifted off of her, and Hermione lay there for a moment, gathering her wits before sitting up.
“We said we wouldn’t do this again.”
Draco sighed, throwing his arm over his eyes. His cock was slowly softening against his thigh, leaking a wet, pearly trail on his absurdly expensive black trousers. “I know.”
“How was your date?” For a moment, Hermione felt guilty, bringing it up now, like this, with that bitter edge in her tone that she tried so hard to hide.
If there was one thing other than Obliviation Hermione was good at, it was falling into Draco Malfoy’s bed against better judgment.
“Awful,” he muttered after a moment, moving his arm and sitting up to face her.
Hermione feigned nonchalance, something she was decidedly not good at when it came to him.
“What happened? I thought you liked her."
It felt dirty talking about Draco’s new situationship with his cum between her legs.
“She is nice. That’s not the problem.”
Hermione stood up, wincing as a warm sensation slid down her inner thighs. Before, he would have licked it out of her, or pushed it back inside. Maybe it would have inspired another round.
“Then what is?”
“She’s not you, Granger.”
Her breath caught, and she watched his eyes glaze over as they followed the trail of his cum down her leg.
When they met hers again, the heat there made him appear practically deranged. “Nobody is you. And that’s the fucking problem.”
She whimpered, her hand pressed stupidly to her chest.
“I–I thought you liked her. You took her out for Valentine’s Day. I thought it was getting serious. I thought—”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s exactly it. You thought. You never asked me what I wanted. You told me you wanted out and I gave you that.”
“No.” Hermione shook her head. That wasn’t what had happened at all. She had given him an out and he had taken it.
As if he hadn’t heard her, he ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled a long whoosh of breath. “I’ve tried to move on. I know that’s what you want. I’ll look for a place tomorrow.”
“What I want?” Hermione shot back. “You didn’t seem all that fussed about breaking up. You didn’t even fight it. You started dating her within a month.”
“You told me to.” Draco laughed, a bitter laugh she had never heard before. “Granger? Have you met you? There’s no point in arguing when you’ve already made up your mind.” He was breathless, relentless.
“You said you wanted to break up and I gave you what you wanted. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still fucking here. I’m still rich, Granger. I could have left instantly. I could have gone to Blaise and Theo’s or crawled back to my parents. I literally own other properties in this city. And yet, I’m still fucking here. Sleeping next door to you, and wanking every fucking night remembering the sounds you make.”
“But,” she tried to protest. But the truth was, Hermione was out of air.
He hadn’t fought the breakup because he’d thought she was breaking up with him for her own sake. Because of course, she hadn't told him why she'd done it. Because she was, in fact, a fucking idiot.
“You seemed unhappy sometimes,” she said softly. “Lost. I didn’t want you to feel like you’d lost your entire family because of me.”
He let out another frustrated laugh, and shook his head. “Two things can be true. I can be upset about my parents and still want to be here with you, Granger.”
Hermione’s eyes burned and she hated herself for it. She’d been so matter-of-fact about their breakup. She’d made a point to be. Draco Malfoy didn't beg. Of course he'd accepted it with grace.
“This can’t be what you planned for your life. A two bedroom flat, an elderly cat, and a girlfriend who works too much.”
Draco, on the other hand, was dry-eyed and furious.
“I don’t want anyone but you. I don’t care if my family never speaks to me again. I don’t want to date other people. I don’t want to move out.” His eyes bored into hers and she shivered a little. “Everything I want begins and ends with you.”
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it. Took a step closer to him. Gods, she was so fucking stupid sometimes. So caught up in her head about everything, even (or maybe especially) when she'd had everything she could have wanted. She just had to ruin it.
And yet, he was still here.
It all hit her then, and again, like muscle memory, her arms twined around his neck, and his tongue licked into her mouth.
He cupped her arse lifting her, and hauled her back to the bed.
This time, he dropped onto the mattress with her on top of him. He growled, practically tearing at her blouse, pulling down her bra, and grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin of her breasts.
“I don’t want anyone else to ever see you like this. I don’t ever want to see you touching yourself and get so fucking hard I think I might die, and not know who you’re thinking about.”
“It was you,” she whined, grinding down on him, her cunt leaking a combination of their cum into the lap of his trousers. His cock was hard between them and she wiggled trying to get it where she wanted it. “It’s always fucking you.”
Draco lifted her enough so she could pull his trousers further down his thighs, and then she knelt over him, aiming him, sinking down, down, down, until she panted into his neck.
He flexed his hips, punishing her with a deep thrust, and she cried out.
“I only told you to start dating again.” she paused to breathe, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “because I thought it might keep us from doing this.”
Draco took charge, tightening his hands on her waist as he slammed her down on him again and again.
“Obviously,” Hermione gasped, “it didn’t work.”
“You’re so fucking frustrating,” he growled. “Infuriating witch.”
Hermione clung tighter to him. “Stay. Don’t go. Don’t date anyone else ever again.”
“Done,” he gritted out, when she clenched hard around him. “And when we’re done here, I’m buying you a ring and asking you to marry me.”
Her breath caught and for a moment she felt him tense, as if afraid he’d said the wrong thing or pushed her too far.
“Alright,” she agreed, a smile in her voice.
At her response, he gentled his movements, rocking into her slow and deep, catching her chin to make her look him in the eyes.
“Yeah?”
Hermione was about two seconds away from coming. “Yeah.”
He exhaled shakily and nodded. “Good. And then we’re going to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I’m going to—fuck—I’m going to lick chocolate off these perfect tits.”
“Uh-huh,” she gasped.
“And you’re not gonna make any more silly fucking decisions on my behalf.”
Her nails scraped down his back. "Okay."
Draco buried his face in her neck and groaned brokenly, filling her up and taking her with him.
When her orgasm hit, she almost sighed with relief as her cunt spasmed, milking him and milking him.
They shuddered and moaned together, and when they came back to earth this time, Hermione didn’t bother making excuses to herself or him. She let herself stay, let him curl his body around hers and make a mess of her.
Cunt, skin, heart.
Because the truth was, nothing about being with Draco would ever be easy.
But gods, loving him was.