Author: RZZMG PM
Hermione Granger's 10th Hogwart's Reunion turns into the hottest night of her life as Draco Malfoy challenges her to a drinking game! FIC CHALLENGE. One-shot. Romance/Humor/Hot Shagging: Dramione/Draco x Hermione & Soft Slash-Blaise x Theo. COMPLETE!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Hermione G. & Draco M. - Words: 9,577 - Reviews: 89 - Favs: 573 - Follows: 52 - Published: 03-17-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5824536
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This was a Fic Challenge presented to me by UNSEENLIBRARIAN. Her requirements were:
1. Draco x Hermione = main pairing (of course!), Post-Hogwarts.
2. George and Ron Weasley should be in important roles. However, those two cannot be working together/business partners in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It would be nice to see all living Weasley siblings at some point. Fred is dead. Ron is not a dick.
3. Harry is prominent but is not an Auror.
4. Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott are a romantically involved couple.
5. Limericks should come into play.
6. Include a corn or hedgerow maze.
7. A boggart, Fang the boarhound, orangutans and elephants should appear at some point in the story.
8. There should be purple and orange corduroy fabric somewhere.
9. Incorporate this piece of dialogue: "Wait, no! Those don't fit in there!" "Oh, well, they do now..."
10. Please let there be sex. The really good kind. :) With laughter.
Revision 1.0 (original submission) - March, 2011
Revision 2.0 (revised submission) - February, 2012
STORY DETAILS: This one-shot story twists the timeline so that the entire set of events in "Deathly Hallows" takes place in a compressed three month time period instead (June-August, 1997). Voldemort is defeated by Harry in August, and the school is repaired with magic and reopened for business in late September that same year. As a result, everyone returns to school and graduates on time (late June, 1998 for Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco). The Epilogue portion of "Deathly Hallows" is completely tossed out for the sake of this fic. THIS IS A COMEDY/ROMANCE STORY, WITH ADULT (MATURE) THEMES.
TIMELINE: June, 2008
CHARACTERS FEATURED (in alphabetical order by last name): Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Harry Potter, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini
SUMMARY: Hermione Granger's 10th Hogwart's Reunion turns into the hottest night of her life as Draco Malfoy challenges her to a drinking game! Limmericks and alcohol and sexual tension abound!
RATING: M+ (NC-17 –sexual situations, including explicit heterosexual consensual sex; non-explicit homosexual snogging; profanity; alcohol consumption; and a dirty limerick).
IMAGES FOR THIS FANFIC (characters, outfits, etc.), can be found by going here: http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / (remove all spaces from that URL to make it load properly).
It was June in London and it was sticky hot, with humidity hanging like a blanket over the city. It seemed the entire population of the overcrowded concrete jungle was eagerly awaiting the rains to finally drop and cool down the busy streets, but alas, there didn't appear a cloud in the sky to ease their discomfort.
Hermione hated the humidity, as it did terrible things to her hair, and she'd never been fully comfortable in London either, having been raised in the countryside of Surrey. Thankfully, she and her two companions had only seconds to experience the muggy weather and the hustle-bustle outside before hurrying into The Dorchester Hotel in Mayfair.
The three Apparated together into the Wizard's Lobby in the newly renovated structure, completely avoiding the Muggle clientele. They were met at the magical elevator by an old fashioned, uniformed operator. His suit was red, with gold tassels. The man stepped aside to let them enter the car, took their invitations to the Class of 1998's Ten-Year Reunion Bash, and then pressed the correct button sequence for them to reach the proper floor. The party was being held in the penthouse suite.
As she, Harry, and Ron stepped out at the top they stopped in the small, marble-tiled foyer to get their bearings. There was a door to a gender-neutral water-closet off to the right, another for a coat room to the left, and a door into the suite itself directly before them. A greeter took their coats and Hermione's purse, and they were invited to enter the main room.
The three friends stopped before the heavy, double-doors leading into the suite and played Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who would go first. Harry lost, as he always did, picking scissors as his opening move every time. "Best of three?" he offered, holding his hand back up in anticipation.
"Blimey, Harry, you faced Voldemort with less fear," Ron pointed out, jostling his reluctant friend to the front. "What's the big deal? It's only a school reunion."
"Yes, Harry, you're being completely ridiculous about this whole thing," Hermione rationally agreed, helping Ron with the shoving.
Her friend turned on her, a cross between annoyance and panic in his piercing green gaze. "Then you go first."
"NO!" Hermione practically shouted. Embarrassed by her outburst, she cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean no, thank you. You lost the toss anyway." She started pushing Harry back towards the door again. "Now be a brave Gryffindor and get!"
"But-" The-Boy-Who-Was-A-Big-Fat-Chicken argued, sinking his heels into the floor. It might have worked better had it been wood or carpet, but as it was, Italian marble didn't have much adhesiveness, and Harry almost lost his footing and tumbled to the floor. Thankfully, Neville Longbottom came out of the suite at just that exact moment and grabbed Harry with a speed belying his former clumsy self.
"Harry! Hermione!" their friend greeted with a bright, excited smile, closing the door quickly behind him. "It's been a long time!" He turned to see Ron standing in the back. "Oh, hi, Ron," he hailed with a wave. "How have you all been?"
From where they stood, in that momentary peek through the opening, Hermione could barely make out a dimly lit space with a lot of bodies and weird lighting, but strangely, the room was utterly quiet. She assumed that meant there was a Silencing Charm cast upon the walls and flooring to assure soundproofing.
To all three guests' immense relief, they spent the next ten minutes in the foyer getting reacquainted before Neville excused himself to use the loo. At that point, the best friends knew they had no choice but to move forward. Simultaneously taking a collective deep breath, Harry put his hand on the door handle. "Now or never," he breathed and entered, Hermione close at his back, Ron at hers.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the sound enveloped them. It was overwhelming. The heavy beat of booty bass played, and raucous laughter combined with dozens of conversations, nearly deafening in its decibel level.
Hermione almost stopped and turned right back around, intimidated by the scene before her. Only Harry's grasp on her arm and Ron's nudging hand on her back kept her walking forward. "I don't think I can do this," she shouted in Harry's ear, trying not to get drowned out by the heavy thumping that literally shook the walls.
"Yes, you can!" Harry yelled back over his shoulder. "We can! Too late anyway! Might as well have some fun!"
Ron leaned down into her other ear. "Yeah, live a little, 'Mione!"
With that, her two friends escorted her into the room between them. A loud roar went up in the crowd upon recognition of the newcomers, and George Weasley, DJ for the night, got out his wand and loudly announced their attendance.
"The house is about to come down, ladies and gents! It's Harry Potter, come in all the way from California! Followed by the delectable school marm, Hermione Granger! And last but not least… oh, hi, Ron."
A scream went out through the packed room again in greeting, and Hermione spied Ginny shoving her way through the bodies to get to their side, bottles of Butterbeer in hand for all of them. "Aye-up!" she shouted above the music. "About time you three got here!"
"What are you doing here?" Ron bellowed. "You graduated in '99!"
Ginny, dressed in a rather slinky halter top in a ravishing colour of gold that set off her eyes, grinned. "It's a mish-mosh party," she explained. "Free for all!"
"You come alone?" Hermione screamed the question, having to repeat it twice for Ginny to understand. Her friend shook her head.
"Astoria's with me," she yelled. She and Astoria Greengrass had become friends after Hermione, Harry, and Ron had finally left Hogwarts ahead of her, and the two were currently flatmates living in Soho. "She's over there," Ginny pointed off to the left side of the room, "talking to Adrian Pucey."
Everyone knew Ron had a thing for Astoria. He'd been after the youngest Greengrass girl for the last eight months, as she worked down the street from him at Ollivander's Wand Shop. Hermione wasn't bothered in the least; she and Ron had tried dating twice, the first time right after the war, and the second time a year later. They'd both agreed finally that they were better off as friends. He'd dated on and off since, just as she had, but neither had found "the one" yet to settle with - which was just fine with Hermione, because she was busy with her career. She'd just transitioned out as the Charms teacher at Hogwarts this year, and moved into private enterprise, purchasing space in Diagon Alley to open up her own Charms Shoppe, which included an inventory of rare, magical Jocale items.
"Ah," Ron stated, slamming his hands into the pockets of his rather fashionable, dark brown slacks. Hermione had to admit, her ex looked good tonight, wearing a white button up shirt, and with his red hair grown out long and tied back with a leather throng as Bill had always kept his at the same age. "Think I'll just… check out the food," he stated, heading off towards the direction Ginny had indicated. "See ya!" he waved over his shoulder.
Ginny and Hermione traded a knowing grin, and then the redhead turned her full attention on Harry, giving him the once-over, noting his tight-fitting, green dress shirt that made his eyes pop behind his glasses, and slick charcoal grey pants. She seductively smiled. "Hey, Harry. Long time no see."
Although Hermione was sure Harry could hardly hear Ginny's greeting, as she hadn't spoken very loud, Harry was, nonetheless, dumbstruck by Ginny. He stared at her like he was a starving man and she was the last pot noodle on Earth. He hadn't seen her in over five years, Hermione knew, ever since he'd left England (escaped, was more like it!) to go to America to establish a wizarding school in San Francisco. Doing so, he'd effectively managed to successfully dodge the unrelenting sycophants and unforgiving politics that the war had left in its wake. Unfortunately, it had also meant the end of his relationship with Ginny, as she hadn't wanted to leave her job as Star Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, but the time and distance obviously hadn't changed their feelings for each other. Hermione best friend was currently eyeing Harry as a tasty piece of prime rib with horseradish on.
Embarrassed by the show, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. "See you later," she called out, taking a bottle of beer from Gin's hand and moving further into the room, leaving the two to their amusements.
After being stopped by various former schoolmates for the seventh or eighth time with the same set of questions - How have you been? Are you married yet? How's Hogwarts? Is McGonagall ever going to retire? Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum - she finally squeezed along the far wall and made her way around it, towards an area that had less activity. She was feeling, quite honestly, a little overwhelmed, not used to such loud and stuffy events.
Finding a good place to 'people watch' - an upper balcony that looked down upon the high-ceilinged room – she leaned over the stainless steel railing and slowly sipped her beer.
Up here on the second floor, the music was greatly muted, much to her ears' appreciation. There was a pool game going on at a table in one corner, another small bar in the center against the back wall with a hotel staff member manning it, and six couches scattered throughout, all upholstered in a rather loud purple and orange corduroy that matched the art deco on the walls and were intentionally laid out in a way to encourage conversation or lazing about.
As she looked around, with the booze free-flowing, and the heavy beat of trance, dance, and pop pumping in the background, Hermione was shocked to witness things she'd never even dreamed she'd be exposed to.
Down below, she saw many faces she recognized pressing their pelvises together and grinding to the music, unconcerned about how slaggy they appeared. On her floor, in a darkened corner, the handsome Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini, and the equally sexy Transfiguration teacher, Theodore Nott, were practically humping each other on one of the couches, their faces smashed together, as the song "Forever" by Chris Brown played in the background. It looked like this wasn't the first occurrence between them either by the way Zabini was lovingly stroking Nott's arse and tonguing him with slow, sensual kisses. They definitely had a hot yin-yang thing going there, and Hermione blushed as she turned once more to look over the railing at the crowd below instead, tipping back her Butterbeer and swigging half of it in a single go.
She waved as Luna Lovegood-Scarmander suddenly spotted her and enthusiastically jumped up and down to catch her attention. The witch was dressed to her usual bizarre taste: she was wearing some silver and gold spangled outfit that looked like a prop from the old 'Star Trek' television series. Next to Luna stood her much older husband, Rolf. The man was fifteen years her friend's senior, and to Hermione's way of thinking, his face resembled that of Fang the boarhound, with wide jowls and large, deeply set eyes. She'd never tell him or Luna that, of course, but when he raised his head to wave at her, too, she couldn't help but stifle a giggle at the mental comparison once more.
The next thing she knew, the whole room was waving upwards at her. Of course, that's because George on his wand-mic told them all to do so. He impishly grinned up at her after the fact, knowing she hated such attention. George had ever been the type to get his rocks off watching people squirm.
She was going to tell his mother that he was mean to her - that ought to fix his little, red wagon.
When she'd finished her beer, she turned to the bar and requested another. With a shake of his head, the bartender told her they only served the hard stuff on this floor, and directed her to the other bar down below for Butterbeers and 'other fruity girl drinks.'
"What's wrong? Can't hold your hard liquor, Granger?" a familiar voice crooned in her ear.
Speaking of condescending gits…
"On the contrary, Malfoy," she spit back and loudly ordered a Firewhisky. The bartender poured and passed, and with an arrogant smirk at her formal tormentor, she tipped the drink back, swallowed it in one go, and slammed the glass down on the bar, calling for another. When she'd downed that one as well, Malfoy - looking all together too handsome in a dark blue dress shirt and black slacks, his silky, platinum hair styled short so she got an unimpeded view of his captivating, wintery eyes - ordered her another and one for himself.
"Cheers," he clinked glasses with her and they took the shot together, and then shared a challenging grin when they both clunked their empties on the bar at the same time. "Well, well," he leaned in to her ear so she could hear him. "It would seem there's a bit of the 'wild' in you after all, Granger." His hot breath on Hermione's collar made her shiver. "Care to go another round?"
She glared up at him, refusing to be intimidated. "I can hack it if you can," she defied him. He smirked, turned and ordered another round for them.
He'd played a similar game with her across the floor at the last big Ministry function they'd individually attended six months back (a Ball to honour the new South African Minister's appointment to represent his continent). Hermione had been hiding in one of the corners (the one with the life-sized, faux stuffed elephant standing in a diorama that resembled the Serengeti Plains), having just escaped the Captain of the Irish National Quidditch Team's attentions (disgusting roving hands on the man, the great, hairy orangutan!), when she'd scanned the crowd and unintentionally connected gazes with Draco Malfoy.
He'd been leaning in the opposite corner across from her, apparently hiding amongst the palm fronds of a fake desert oasis display. In mock salute, he'd casually raised his champagne glass at her and drained it in one go.
Not willing to be considered the passive, blushing virgin, she'd followed the handsome blond wizard's lead, greeting him right back with an elegant tip of her glass and swallowing the contents of her drink in a single pull. He'd raised an eyebrow at her in interest, a small smile gracing his (sexy!) features, and picking a fresh glass off a passing waiter's tray, repeated the trick. Hating champagne, as the sulfites always gave her a nasty headache later, but not wanting to be undone, Hermione had met him glare for stare as she, too, emptied the contents of a second glass in seconds.
For some unknown reason, Malfoy had chosen to end their game then with a respectful nod of concession, and sauntered off to find his date de nuit. She'd decided to call it an evening not long after, too, tired of the politicking and conversational inanity going on around her. Trudging back through the hedgerow maze to the edge of the grounds where the Apparition point was located, she'd gone home alone, disappointed.
Now, here he was again before her, playing a tit-for-tat that, somehow, was rather enticing in its naughtiness, despite being rather tame and 'safe.' This, she decided, was fun – something she'd seriously been lacking in her life for the last few years.
And well, neither Ron nor Harry could say she hadn't taken their earlier advice to cut loose to heart, could they?
Malfoy passed her a fresh shot of Firewhisky. "To reunions," he toasted, and gulped his drink down. She repeated the salutation and engaged in blatant mimicry, letting the smooth alcohol warm its way down her throat.
He held up his hand. "Before we go further, you should know that I had two before you showed up. So, either we call it here or you catch up before we proceed."
Hermione tweaked an eyebrow at him in amusement. "What's wrong? Can't hold your hard liquor, Malfoy?" she threw back at him, ordered another and downed it.
Immediately, her head started swimming.
Bloody buggering hell! She knew combining beer and liquor was a bad idea. However, her pride was now involved, and admitting defeat just wasn't in her make-up. Small challenge this may be, but she would win it and prove to Slytherin's former Prince that she could take the worst he had to dish out! It was just a good thing she'd had the forethought to have a full meal and taken a potion that reduced alcohol's effects dramatically upon the system before coming here tonight.
Malfoy didn't need to know that, though.
Her companion narrowed his eyes, sharply assessing her current state. "Right, I think you've had enough all ready," he proclaimed.
Annoyed, Hermione pushed a finger into the man's (hard-muscled!) chest. "What gives you the right to decide that for me? I'm a big girl. I can have a few drinks if I want."
The corners of his (oh, so kissable!) lips quirked upwards. "Not in my place you can't," he informed her. "I don't want to have to clean up your mess if you lose it all over my floors, Granger."
Hermione blinked several times. "What do you mean, 'your place'?"
That patented Malfoy smirk wound its way up Draco's (handsome!) face.
Her jaw hit the floor. "NO!" She looked around. "Y-y-you own this room?"
His grin could put the Cheshire Cat to shame.
Forget the floor. Hermione's jaw did the Macarena down the street, and hitched a ride to Liverpool while it was at it.
"You own this entire hotel?"
Malfoy nodded. "I bought it two years ago, but just finished remodeling in December. This is the first big event in the Orple Suite."
Rolling her flapping tongue back into her mouth, Hermione frowned. "Orple? What kind of name is that?"
He pointed to the couches that Zabini and Nott were currently reclining upon. "Orange and purple. Orple." He shrugged. "I didn't come up with it. My interior designer did. She's genius actually."
Hermione gave a rather unladylike snort. "She's either that or a nutter. 'Orple.' Really?" She shook her head in amusement.
Draco tilted his head, considering her words. "Oh, she's definitely a nutter, too, although I think your lot used to call her 'Looney' back in school."
Hermione blinked again, completely at a loss for words. She looked around, and realized that everything she was seeing – the oddly shaped, colourful pictures in stainless steel frames, the mauve and orange painted walls, the wacky track-lighting that crossed the length of the room, the floor to ceiling glass walls on two sides that allowed an unimpeded view of Hyde Park across the street, the light blond hardwood floors, and the matching stainless steel railings for the stairwell and balcony – all of it screamed Luna's touch.
"You're right," she agreed. "She is genius, isn't she?"
He nodded, and glanced around the scene, taking everything in with a quick sweep of his iron gaze.
"So, you're hosting this party," her brain finally put two-and-two together, and she grinned silly. "Wait – you're throwing a party for everyone? These are the same people you hated when we were kids, Malfoy."
Two (sturdy, packed!) shoulders nonchalantly shrugged. "It's a laugh, isn't it? And if anyone needs some fun in their lives, Granger, it's you and me," he cheekily replied, returning his attention to her.
"Modesty doesn't become you. You just wanted to show off," she figured and waved to the bartender for another round. The man actually looked to his boss in question before acting on her order. "Oh, come on!" She threw up her hands, ready for a row, but then realized she had the perfect weapon for getting her way instead: kicking Draco Malfoy's ego around. "I think you're just intimidated that a female could drink you under the table," she accused the tall (gorgeous!) man before her, arrogantly folding her arms.
A dark gold eyebrow shot up in amusement. "Me, intimidated by you? Doubtful, little girl. But if you insist upon proving which of us is the better man…" He nodded to his employee and the keep served them up both another shot. "Drink this up, and then we'll start even," he offered, handing her a shot glass. "After that, it's one for one." He wickedly leered. "Let's see how good you really are, Granger."
An hour later, Hermione was metaphorically flying around the room. She was sitting on the same long couch as Nott and Zabini (who were still making out, both of their shirts now opened, showing off some rather impressive angles and curves), next to Malfoy.
Scratch that. Technically, she was leaning her head on the git's chest, her right leg flung casually over his, her dark grey skirt riding high on her thigh, her right hand resting over his left (nicely defined!) pec. They were slumped down into the soft cushions together, laughing and joking. He'd been telling her raunchy jokes and they'd swapped stories about their exes and their lousy, but humorous, bedroom experiences.
The music downstairs was still going strong with the fierce, thumping beats of club bass despite the late hour, and the sound of conversation droned on in the background, although greatly reduced. She figures that some people must have already gone home already (spoil sports!). Upstairs, the pool table was now abandoned, and aside from her, Malfoy, the bartender, and the two gay, former Slytherins they shared the couch with, they were alone on this level.
"Okay, okay," she giggled, still riding a slight buzz. Well, maybe it was a tad more than a 'buzz.' Basically, she could have skipped the Riddikulus spell all together in the case of a Boggart showing up just then, and simply laughed the bugger away herself. "I've got one," she announced. "How about this?"
She cleared her throat, narrowed her eyes and tried to remember the words to the dirty limerick she'd memorized out of a book on soft porn short-stories and naughty poetry that Ginny had purchased for her after she'd broken up with Ron the second time around. Her best friend had told her that she needed to get more in touch with her 'feminine free-to-fuck side' now that she was on the market again, so she'd read the blasted thing cover-to-cover… a few times.
"A look and a touch that inflame,
Wild feeling burst forth without aim;
All senses on fire,
Mad passionate love that's not tame."
She stumbled over the third line, but managed to get it all out.
Malfoy quietly contemplated her words. "Overwhelming desire. Mad passionate love." He was looking down at her smaller fingers, running a fingertip over each nail. "I like the sound of that. Is there more?"
Her brain was much too fluffy then to think. She concentrated, attempting to focus on recalling the next stanza. "Um, something about heat… Oh, I know!"
"Bodies pressed with excited infusion,
Moist kisses exchanged in perfusion;
Arms and legs in love knot,
With the blood piping hot,
Wetness matched with a rock hard protrusion."
Malfoy's fingers lazily begin stroking her up and down her bared shoulder, pulling the thin strap of her dark green silk top down, exposing her golden skin to his delightful caresses. "Mmmm… can you recall some more?" he murmured against her curly hair. "It sounds like it's just getting good."
She nodded. "It's my favourite poem of all time! Even more so than 'The Waste Land' by S.T. Elliot." She shook her head. "I mean, T.S. Elliot. I memorized it," she proudly boasted. Pursing her lips, she tried to recall the rest.
"Clothing ripped to the floor without care,
No thought given to how or where;
Both lovers are randy,
A rug or couch handy,
Bare rumps and sweet bumps that they share.
Two partners that fit like a glove,
Long moments of unfettered love;
Motion at fevered pitch,
Each relieving their itch,
Unconcerned with which one is above."
She hardly noticed when Malfoy's other hand moved to settle on the thigh she'd flung carelessly over his legs, but she did groan in pleasure when he began tracing small circles on her knee, moving up her flesh to her skirt hem, then back down. He repeated the provocative stroking several times, and Hermione sighed in happiness. That felt so good!
Snuggling into his chest, she tilted her neck back so that her nose was at his collar. Gads, he smelled yummy, too! She had the strangest desire to lick right there above his pulse…
"More?" he asked, and she nodded, enjoying what he was doing to her. He chuckled. "No, I meant, was there more of the poem?"
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Oh, yes, there is. Let me just think…" She attempted to ignore what his hands were doing, focusing on her recall of the next part of the poem.
"Joint explosion will soon be at hand,
The lovers have reached Promised Land;
Sighs and cries inter-weaved,
Perfect sex is achieved,
Grand fulfillment for each firebrand."
"I'd love to hear you sigh in that way," her companion remarked, the hand on her shoulder moving to her neck, fingering through her hair.
Draco's soft exhalation tickled her cheeks. She took a deep breath in astonishment… and inhaled the fragrance of his cologne – a refined, oriental woodsy scent that enticed. It combined with the scent of the Firewhisky on his breath to cause her body to involuntarily respond. Her nipples tightened, her knickers damped, and her stomach flipped as a million butterflies began fluttering around inside.
Was she really sexually attracted to Draco Malfoy?
"Tell me the rest," he bid, compelling her with a honeyed, low voice.
Hermione swallowed, trying to calm the shaking that had suddenly over taken her limbs. She blinked up at him, stupefied by the feelings coursing through her, unsure exactly as to what was happening and why.
"Go on," he lulled, sliding his hand further up her thigh, slipping under her skirt to slowly caress her over her satin panties. "Give it to me, Granger."
She stammered the first line as he touched a single finger over her clit through the fabric, but then quickly managed to rasp the remainder out.
"The eye of the storm is now here,
Restful lull with low whispers so dear;
Loving cause for refrain,
Passion builds up again,
Full arousal and thrill reappear."
"Tha-that's all," she faltered, panting as he made desultory circles around her lower lips. She began jabbering then, unable to stop herself, as her nervousness combined with the inebriation to bring out the very worst in her. "I-it's really quite a… beautiful poem. The author is very talented. He captures the essence of passionate love, I think. Although, I wouldn't know… as I've never felt anything like it. But it sounds really nice."
"Is that so? You've never felt that way?" Malfoy asked in a tone so sensually dark and soft that it made Hermione's chest hitch. Daring to glance up into his face, their gazes locked, and she trembled at the blatant sexual hunger evident in his expression. Her body flushed with an answering arousal.
Frightened by her response, her eyes dropped to his shapely lips - those same lips, she now realized, she'd wanted to taste since that Ministry Ball half a year ago, when they'd mocked her from across the room. She licked her own lips to wet them, and his eyes tracked the movement.
"No, I've never known that kind of feeling before," she confirmed for him.
Unfortunately, that was the truth. She'd loved Ron, but it had always been emotional and physical fumblings between them; too many misunderstandings and hurt feelings. They hadn't even lasted long enough to make anything passionate between them happen. And she could never really commit her heart to her most recent ex-boyfriend, Oliver Wood, because he'd wanted to mould her into the perfect, housewife and mother, and she'd never been comfortable with the idea of giving up her career or personal pursuits at so young an age. That reluctance made her keep a part of herself back from him, which was what led to their breakup the previous September. There were a few short term serial dates with other men in between, yes, but no fire or commonality to make them worth pursuing.
Malfoy's fingers were playing with the edges of her knicks, asking permission for entrance. With only a moment's thought to wonder what on Merlin's rod she was doing (hell, isn't it obvious? You're getting in touch with your 'feminine free-to-fuck side' just like Ginny wanted!), she adjusting her hips, allowing an opening. Without delay, he pulled the fabric to the side and quickly slipped past, touching her wet flesh for the first time. Gasping at the intimate contact, Hermione shut her eyes and leaned her head down on her partner's shoulder, feeling her cheeks – already red from the alcohol – flame to life. With a tight grip on the fabric of his shirt, she held on for the most reckless ride of her life.
The arm about her tightened, pulling her in close as Draco leisurely explored her slit, and it suddenly grew both much too hot and too chilly in that room. Had the June nighttime air somehow managed to sneak into the hermetically sealed window casings and wall joints of the suite?
With slow, gentle caresses, Malfoy touched her. He moved with careful attention, as if he were memorizing her most secret spot by feel alone, taking his time to run over every damp curl, to stroke down her labia, then to press at her opening, gathering her juices with a few small strokes of his middle finger. He slowly began smearing her fluids all up and down her seam, causing her heart to pound maniacally under her ribcage, and when he brushed against her clit, Hermione turned her head into his chest and moaned into his shirt, shivering from head to toe.
"Yes," she sighed as he found that one perfect spot where electricity arced into her core. "Yes, right there." He rubbed circles around the fleshy area, and she squirmed in his arms, gripping his shirt tighter. Beneath her palm, his heart beat as fiercely as her own. "Go inside," she begged tilting her mouth up to his ear and whispering her wishes. "Please go inside me."
He groaned, turning his head so that their cheeks were pressed together, and his fingers moved down her sensitized skin, found her opening and slipped inside, two together. She gasped, feeling her flesh parted and opened up. It had been so long – nine months, and not much self-pleasuring going on in between because she'd been so depressed after breaking up with Oliver. Now, the fire in her belly, too long denied and finally reignited, was unquenchable. Her hips started pulsing in time to his hand's thrusts, and her lips sought out his. "Kiss me," she pleaded. "I want to taste you."
With an exultant hiss, Malfoy captured her mouth, slanting over her, thrusting his tongue in time to his fingers and her hips. They moved as one with the single-minded goal of achieving her climax.
Mewling between kisses from the exquisite pleasure he was bringing her, she feasted on his warm, willing mouth. Like a wanton mistress responding to her lover, her hips surged to meet his hand's pumping rhythm. All the while, her grip on his shirt tightened.
She rode the wave of fulfillment all the way to the edge of madness and insanity. When he twisted his fingers and stroked her clit just right with his thumb, the tension in her abdomen pulsed free. With a joyful cry, Hermione let go and flew into the warm, rushing bliss.
When reality returned long moments later, she opened heavy eyelids and forced her sluggish brain to take a mental inventory. Her body was on automatic pilot, as if it had experienced the shock of a lifetime and was coming out of it. Her limbs were shaking all over, and her heart rate and breath were only then returning to some semblance of normalcy.
Through a guarded, wintery gaze, she noted that Draco was waiting on her for his cue as to what to do next. His whole body was rigid and straining against hers, and his fingers were still lodged deep inside her, unmoving. He seemed unsure as to her reaction to what they'd just done.
His eyes spoke volumes, though: he wanted his turn next.
"Holy shite, that was fucking hot!" Theodore Nott declared, clearly impressed. "You tore his bloody shirt!"
"Merlin, Granger, who'd have thought you'd had it in you?" Zabini chimed-in, clearly amused.
Hateful reality broke the moment, and Hermione's eyes widened in understanding: Merlin Almighty, she'd just let Draco fecking evil git ferret Malfoy finger her pussy in public, hadn't she? Godric's great toupée! Could she be anymore shameless?
She bit her lip and closed her eyes, groaning with embarrassment. "Out, please," she mumbled to her partner, and felt his fingers slip from her pussy, and rearrange her knickers. "I'm not sure what came over me," she began, too terrified to open her eyes just yet, trying to keep her voice from rising in hysterical panic. "I'm sorry."
Truthfully, she wasn't sure why she was apologizing since it had been Malfoy who'd shoved his hands up her skirt without invitation initially, but still…
"I'm not," Draco stated.
Taken aback by such candidness, she opened her eyes…
Oh, Merlin, he licking his fingers! He was actually glossing his lips with her come!
"I've wanted to do that to you since fourth year," he growled, leaning in to capture her mouth again, letting her taste her body's essence on his tongue as it speared into her over and over again, breaking down her will.
Against her better judgment, Hermione melted into Malfoy, that passion she'd so obviously wanted to experience staring her right in the face, taking her over. Winding her fingers through the soft fringe of his hair, she caressed and grabbed onto his baby-fine, platinum strands. Circe and Morgana, he tasted of her mixed with him... and it was fecking amazing!
With great reluctance, Draco eventually pulled his mouth off of hers. "Come home with me," he offered, nuzzling her throat. "I'll fuck you all night long. I'll do anything to you that you want. Anything, Granger."
She shivered at the thought his forthright invitation conjured in her overactive imagination. Anything, huh? Without allowing herself any more time to think, she nodded, giving in to Ginny's good advice. "Take me," she begged him in a whisper against his ear.
Disentangling them, he stood, offering her a hand up. She took it, and they made to quickly leave.
At the other end of the couch, Nott pouted. "But you can't go! That was one hell of a show! I want more!"
Smacking him on the arse, Blaise growled. "You've got me, you wankin' man-slag."
Theodore huffed and crossed his arms. "Prove it," he dared. "Wear that outfit I bought you for your birthday sometime this week."
There was a pause. "You superficial slut," Zabini accused, sighing in defeat. "You just want me in designer clothes so we'll be disgustingly matchy-matchy. It's all about the looks with you, isn't it?"
The attractive brunette flicked his long, glossy mane of hair over his shoulder and stretched, wiggling his hips over his lover's lap. "Not precisely. It's also about the technique."
Zabini groaned and dragged the handsome wizard's face back down to his for another brutal kiss, and this time, his hands were going for Nott's pants. As she and Malfoy turned away, she distinctly heard the two lovers dispute something that left her cheeks enflamed.
"Wait, no! Those don't fit in there!" Nott protested, squirming under Zabini's hands.
"Oh, well, they do now..." Blaise stated.
The last sight Hermione had of her former co-workers was them laying down flat on the couch, Blaise on top, Nott's long legs wrapping about the other man's waist. They were grinding against each other, lip-locked like their lives depended upon it. It was obvious they were in love, and even though homo-erotica wasn't her thing, Hermione had to admit that Blaise and Theodore were quite the sexy couple.
"Merlin, isn't it bad enough being a cheap drunk? Now I've become a voyeur, too," she muttered.
At her side, holding tight to her hand, Malfoy chuckled. He went to the bar and spoke to the Keep, giving his employee last minute instructions regarding the room and the guests. The man nodded, and then Draco pulled her into his arms, and with a wave of his wand, they Disapparated from The Dorchester.
As soon as they arrived in Malfoy's bedroom at, presumably, his family's Manor House, he'd pounced on her. They hadn't even made it to the bed, dropping to the carpet on the inside of his bedroom door, tearing at each other's clothes in a rush. They'd only managed to get the most important ones off before he was buried deep inside her with a single, hard thrust. Their first coupling was hot and fast and over in minutes, as they both came hard together.
In the afterglow, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. When Draco looked a little offended, she laughed harder. "I can't believe we couldn't even make it to the bed," she finally let him in on the joke.
A wicked, arrogant smirk worked its way up his cheek. "I can't believe you tore my shirt."
"I can't believe you finger-fucked me in front of Nott and Zabini," she countered around a wide grin.
"I can't believe you let me," he sassed back.
"I can't believe you shredded my knickers," she pouted, reaching down and adjusting their bodies to pull the remnants up, holding the ragged strips of black satin between them. "My favourite pair, too."
He kissed her nose. "I'll buy you more." He shifted on top of her and started moving in and out of her with some serious powering of his hips, his cock as hard as steel again.
"Wow, I can't believe you can go again so soon," she yelped in surprise when he rammed into her, his grip on her thighs firm.
"I can't believe it either," he teased, sitting up on his knees and lifting her legs onto his shoulders, pulling her pelvis to his. "I haven't been this randy since I was a teenager." She was about to reply when he shushed her. "Would you hush up and let me fuck you again, Granger. You talk too much sometimes."
She pursed her lips together to keep them closed, but they didn't stay shut for very long.
Flesh slapped against flesh, and she looked down between them, watching him hammer into her as she'd never been done before. His cock was long and thick, filling her with every stroke to the point where pleasure bordered on pain. She wailed when she came, and he shouted her name (your family name, but what did you expect from Malfoy, really?) as he released his hot seed up inside her again.
Slumping over her, sweat dripped from his forehead to roll down her cheek, mingling with her own. With a groan, she put her shaky legs down and worked on regaining her control by shutting her eyes and relaxing.
After long minutes, she peeked up through the fringe of her lashes to catch Draco's concentrated assessment of her face. There was a wealth of questions in that look.
She smiled and asked, "What is it?"
He shook his head, the curiosity in his grey gaze hidden away with a subtle shift in emotion. "Give me a few minutes and we'll go again."
The teasing imp within just couldn't resist… "Do you think we could try for the bed this time?" she inquired.
He looked up, gauging the distance between where they were entangled on the carpet and the large, King-sized monstrosity in the center of the room. He tsk'd. "Not sure. It's a long way."
She waggled her bottom and giggled. "We could always crab walk."
He made a face. "I've already got rug burn on my knees, Granger. What more harm can you possibly inflict upon me?"
Narrowing her eyes, Hermione leered. "You said anything I wanted, Malfoy," she reminded him. "Given that, I'm sure we can think of something else to make you sore and knackered."
They managed to get their legs under them, stripped off the rest of their clothes, and made it to the couch nearby before he bent her over the back and took her hard from behind. "Like this, Granger?" Draco taunted as she moaned over and over again as he thrust away. He slapped her arse.
She nodded. She'd never had anyone touch her like that before, ever. It was strangely arousing. "Again, but not so hard," she commanded and he complied. Her nipples tightened and she clenched around his length. He groaned this time. "Like that, Malfoy?" she goaded back.
He slapped her again. "Draco," he demanded, pulling her arse cheeks apart and she just knew he was watching himself go in and out. "Oh, fuck, yeah… hell, your pussy's so tight and hot!" He was shoving into her with all his strength, burying himself to the root with each stroke. "You want to come, Granger?" he asked, panting.
She nodded. "Gods, yes! Make me come hard."
The rhythm incrementally increased until she was positively wailing from the pleasure, her clit rubbing against the leather couch with each shove, leaving a wet, slippery trail under her. He grabbed the back of her hair a little roughly and pulled, bowing her spine.
"Then say my name," he demanded. "Say it again, Hermione."
"Draco… Draco, Draco, Draco, DRACO!" she wailed and he matched his thrusts to each calling of his name until on the final cry, she climaxed hard, screaming. Everything inside tightened, stars exploded behind her eyelids, and her body quivered like a bow string, vibrating uncontrollably at the shock of being released. She felt the rush of his hot semen spurting into her as he let go in that same moment, filling her up in a flood of warm liquid.
He collapsed on top of her, his fingers still entangled in her curly, mussed hair, his other hand still gripping her left hip, keeping them connected. He kissed the curve of her spine and her shoulder, as his breathing slowly returned to normal. Eventually, when she made to move, he pinned her to the couch with his weight, and shoved his still-thick length back into her again. "Not yet," he growled, and bit the back of her neck with a love nip, much like a lion would do to hold its mate in place. "You don't move until I say."
Surprisingly, being dominated in such a manner was quite appealing to her, and she instinctively knew he wouldn't hurt or humiliate her. Such knowledge allowed Hermione to relax under his attentions.
Feeling her capitulation, Draco softened. He lightly touched her with dancing fingers all up her back, around her waist, cupping her breasts in the front, then back around to grip her hips. As he pushed upwards into a standing position, his fingers caressed her butt cheeks, then dipped between her slit and under to flick her clit. She jerked in response, sensitive there now.
Reaching up, he took one of her hand in his, moving it between her legs so she could feel where they were connected. "You feel that, Granger? That's me inside you," he asserted, leaning over her again to place his lips against the shell of her ear. "I've had you three times now," he uttered, licking her lobe, nibbling on it. "Did you like it?"
She nodded. "Yes. I've never come like that - never that hard or that much in one night. It was incredible."
Turning her head, she glanced at him over her shoulder. Somehow, some way, this handsome man had been able to give her the passion she'd always wanted to experience, but had never been able to find until now… which was rather ironic, given their past history. How had such an incredible connection been made? This was Draco Malfoy, the wizard who had once professed to despise those of her magical lineage – and the wizard she'd once professed to despise above all others.
Wow. Ten years had certainly made quite a difference in everyone's life, it seemed.
"Can we do it again?" she asked, feeling her arousal returning, and desperate never to let this feeling go now that she'd finally discovered it.
Malfoy's eyes widened, and he smirked. Swooping in, he snogged her fast and hard. "My kind of girl," he praised and pulled out of her, helping her to regain her balance. "Thank Slytherin I took an emergency Rejuvenation Potion before the party or I'd have had a heart attack by now."
She giggled. Gads, she hadn't laughed like this in a really long time. It felt good.
They kissed as he backed her into his bathroom, and after adjusting the water temperature, they took a shower together, cleaning up.
Really, she didn't know why they'd bothered, since as soon as she was 'clean,' he dropped to his knees before her and ate her out, making her all sticky and wet again. Then, as she came, he regained his feet, pulled her up and braced her against the wall. Eagerly anticipating what was coming next, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Want it?" he teased, rubbing the head of his cock against her greedy opening.
"Fuck me," she demanded.
He slammed home with a roar of approval.
"I wanted to take you like this back in school, in the Prefect's Bathroom," he admitted, grunting in her ear as he pounded away inside her. "I wanked off to that image most of fifth year."
"No wonder you were always so grumpy then," she mouthed-off, nibbling on his pale throat.
"I was not grumpy," he disputed, gripping the outside of her thighs so hard she was sure there would be bruises there later. "I was sexually frustrated. Big difference."
She sucked on his flesh, leaving a love bite. "Semantics," she argued.
He bit her back, marking her up in the same manner. "Point is, Granger, I've wanted you for a long time, and you're finally all mine now." He pushed his pubis against her clit and his tempo increased. "Fuck, hurry up and come, Hermione."
"Oh, yes," she moaned in a long sigh, and once more, her body melted into his. "Just like that," she mewled in his ear, encouraging him to bang away while she held on for dear life. "Godric, you feel so good inside me, Draco! Don't stop!"
Their orgasms were simultaneous - a twin explosion of incredible feeling. They called out for each other, tangled up so intimately in the moment that to Hermione, it felt as though she were one with Draco.
When the rapture passed, it left them each weak as kittens, vulnerable and sated. Her lover slid with her down the wall, until she sat on his lap and he was holding her to him in a tight embrace. It took a long while for them to catch their breaths.
When his heart stopped pounding against her ear, Draco pulled back a bit and kissed her again. It was perfect: not too light, not too demanding, long, slow, and full of burgeoning feelings. Their eyes met as their foreheads pressed together.
Between one blink and the next, Draco's look of wonder was suddenly replaced by a nervous anxiety. Hermione noted it with growing trepidation. "What is it?" she asked, gently touching his face. "Have I done something?"
He tilted his head, clearly unsure as to how to answer that question. "I think-" He paused, looked down at her lips, seeming to be struggling with some internal demon. "I think you should know something. I'm not sure how you're going to take it, but I want you to know that I definitely would like to keep seeing you after tonight. If you'll still want to see me, too, that is."
Eels slipped through Hermione's belly at the ominous warning in his tone. Oh, gods, he was going to tell her he was married, wasn't he? Or that he had a sexually transmitted disease. Or that he secretly had plans to be the Dark Lord of the Luxury Hotel industry…
"W-what's wrong?" she dared to ask.
He sighed, his expression resigned. "I set tonight up so that this could happen between us," he admitted in what Hermione was sure was a rare moment of forthright honesty. "I threw the party for you."
Right, not that bad, after all! An extremely nice gesture, in fact, if a little underhanded. Kind of like a surprise party, in a way.
For some reason, though, he seemed to think what he'd done would be construed in a negative fashion. Hermione tried to show him with her facial expressions that she was clearly confused by his concern. She was perfectly fine with what he'd just told her, after all.
"And why is this a bad thing?"
He looked a little abashed. "I lied to you. It wasn't just chance that I approached you upstairs at the bar tonight. I had plans to seduce you all along – for months, since the Ministry function, in fact. I've found that I… I like you, Granger. A lot more than is probably sane." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I set-up this whole elaborate scheme of throwing the reunion bash just to get you in my bed. I mean, I wasn't exactly sure how I'd talk you into it - you're rather unpredictable, you know - but I knew I was going to do whatever it took to get you here tonight."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Call me daft, but isn't that what the art of seduction is all about?"
His gaze shot to hers and he blinked, totally thrown off by her calm response to his revelation. "So, you're not mad that I was dishonest with you?"
Shaking her head, Hermione smiled. "You threw me a party that ended up making a lot of people happy, spent a fortune probably in the doing, and all so you could get me to notice you. I'm actually rather flattered, Draco. Not mad at all. I don't understand why you'd think I would be."
Clearly bewildered, he said, "Because Weasley said you'd hate being deceived."
Hermione gaped. Now she was shocked. "Ron was in on this, too?"
Draco shook his head. "Wrong Weasley."
She considered tonight's events carefully, replaying things in her head from the moment she stepped through the door to the suite.
"Ginny. That tricky witch!"
He nodded. "Actually, she and her brother, George, conspired with me."
"To get her with Harry, Ron with Astoria, and me with you," she surmised. "What did George get out of it, though?"
"The gig, money, fun," he shrugged. "All of the above."
Hermione grinned. "Well, if this is the lengths you'll go to so I'll come to your bed – a place I haven't been yet, I might point out – I wonder what you'll do to get me to go on an actual date with you."
Draco smiled in relief, feathering her cheek with his fingertips. "You may have to do with me just asking you. I'm not sure if I can top tonight's extravaganza, sweetheart."
Leering, Hermione bent forward and pressed her forehead to his, noses touching. "Then, please, allow me to 'top' it," she teased with the double entendre, clenching her lower muscles to squeeze around him again.
Draco groaned. "You know, I think I love reunions," he mumbled against her lips with a grin.
Please review, if you feel inclined! Would love to hear thoughts!
Jocale items = Jewellery crafting. I made it up for this fic. Basically, it's the cutting of gems and precious stones, and enchanting them to do a variety of things (such as help the caster focus, or let them detect magic being used on them, or allow them to talk to someone far away… whatever, you get the idea), then setting them in metals for pendants, rings, bracelets, earrings, etc.
De nuit = French for "of the night."
"Mad Passionate Love" is a poem by Joel D. Ash (1999 – www(dot)poeticlimericks(dot)com / ), and used without permission. I hope Mr. Ash doesn't mind, but this truly is a beautiful limerick and since this was one of the requirements of the fic challenge, I thought it would be nice to share his talent in this forum.