A/N: This is my entry for the Champagne and Countdowns Fest hosted by Beyond the Book Fanfiction Nook on FB. The authors have been revealed and so I'm now cross-posting from ao3. Purely dramione smut with very little plot.
Prompt: Someone has spiked the Champagne fountain with a potion that has drinkers feeling rather feverishly lusty. What smutty goodness ensues thanks to the mysterious prankster?
Warnings: Dub-con in the form of a lust potion, Implied Imperius off-screen Dub-con
Thank you to Desbratty and Akashathekitty for taking a quick look-see at this!
Disclaimer: All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this writing.
Hope you enjoy Xx
The brunette witch trudged towards the kitchens, her rage palpable to anyone who had the misfortune of crossing her.
"Get a hold of yourself, Daphne," she muttered under her breath. Time to turn up the charm in front of the Head Boy.
Her mind was still reeling.
To think that Theo - her Theo - would break up with her right before New Year's! It was outrageous. No one broke up with Daphne—Daphne was the one who did the breaking up! The whole thing was so ludicrous it made her feel physically ill. She wanted to know why, at the very least. That arsehole didn't tell her why. He was so impassive lately - so void of bloody emotions - there was no passion in his eyes whatsoever.
A wicked smile curled across her lips.
So the prat isn't capable of feeling those sort of feelings right now? She scoffed, fingering a small heart-shaped vial she wore around her neck. It glowed a pale pink thanks to the contents it housed. I'll make him feel those feelings in leaps and bounds. He chose the wrong bloody heart to mess with.
In the kitchens, Higgs and a group of Hufflepuffs were selecting a crate of champagne from the supply stores. Her eyes roved around curiously, wondering which barrel exactly was the one that led to their common room.
"Terrence." She flashed him her most sultry smile. One she hoped was disarming.
He stiffened, before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "What do you want, Greengrass?"
Daphne pouted. "Now that's no way to talk to a lady, is it? I just want to check the goods Hufflepuff is bringing to Slytherin's New Year's bash out myself." She gave him a careless shrug. "You know, we only tolerate the best."
"Yeah, whatever." He gestured flippantly. "It's that crate there."
Her eyes sought the crate in question with all the keen attention of a predator. Triumph flared through her as a dark laugh rang loudly in her head. She could practically taste her vengeance, and boy was it ever sweet.
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed as she slipped her Charms text back into her messenger bag, "I think you're a bit obsessed. Ever since the train incident, Malfoy is all you can ever seem to think about."
"I'm not obsessed." Harry shot her a dark glare, as if the statement were an act of aggression in itself. "I'm telling you," he glanced around worriedly and then dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. "I think he's a Death Eater."
"Malfoy?" Ron twisted his face in distaste. "He's all pants and no trousers, mate.."
Hermione sighed. "Harry's just paranoid."
"I'm not either," Harry hissed. "I told you the things he said to me on the train, you know, before he bloody well stomped my face in."
"All talk." Ron shrugged.
Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. "You guys are impossible."
"Harry, Draco and his friends are just boys." Hermione stopped to look around before continuing in a lower voice. "Not Death Eaters. Their our age—sixteen and seventeen. Merlin, teenagers don't become Death Eaters."
Ron nodded. "Hate to say it, but she's right, mate."
"If it makes you feel better, we'll keep an eye out at the New Year's Bash since the Slytherins are hosting this year. All Houses are invited, we have to go anyway. And really, does them extending the invite to all houses sound like something straight off of a Death Eater agenda?"
"And now you lost me." Ron blanched as he peered at Hermione like she'd grown two heads. "You expect us to go?"
Ron sputtered. "Because it's Slytherin!"
"Don't be a child, Ron."
"It's probably part of some perverse Death Eater agenda." Harry knitted his brows together in contemplation. "They're snakes, Hermione. Who knows how they think?"
"Well I know that I happen to be a fan of house unity and if my presence at a Slytherin party can help foster growth between houses, than I'll be there. Ginny, and I both will, actually. You two will be the only sixth years spending the New Year alone in the Tower, and all because of your blind hatred."
Hermione stormed off, leaving Harry and Ron to stare dumbfounded after her.
The Dark Mark stood out glaringly against the pale skin of his arm. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away. The skin was still puffy, signaling the freshness of the Dark Lord's mark being emblazoned on his body. He was well and truly His now, from now till death. Whatever modicum of carefreeness he'd felt in the beginning of fifth year certainly hadn't followed him into sixth.
His father had been a failure and now sat rotting in Azkaban. It was up to Draco to bring honor back to the Malfoy name.
"Put your sleeve down," Nott bit out sharply. "Suppose someone sees?"
"Who died and made you king over us all?" Draco quipped, then scowled as he yanked down his sleeve. "Besides, we're in our Dorm. Who the fuck do you think might see us?"
Nott shrugged. "Just a good habit, Malfoy, no need to bust my bloody bollocks over it."
Zabini's expression was incredulous. "What about you and this nutter idea to invite the other houses to our party tonight, hm, what the fuck have you been smoking?"
Nott steepled his fingers in front of his face before laying his hands patiently on his lap. "Does the art of deception elude you?"
"I'm not sure if you noticed, Blaise, but we're all suspected of being Death Eaters right now. We need to be do something so unexpected that anybody who questions it sounds ridiculous. This needs to be done."
"Might need to be done, but doesn't mean I have to enjoy it," Zabini grumbled.
"Just keep your big mouth shut and don't make a single move without receiving orders first," Draco snapped. Lately, rage was about the only thing he felt.
Nott darted a wary glance between the two Slytherins and sighed. "I know you two find it challenging to keep it in your trousers, but this needs to be rather… discreet. No pillow talk, no telling the slags you call girlfriends. I broke up with mine, I suggest you do the same." Nott examined his fingernails, as if the idea of carrying on with a witch was truly revolting.
"What's the point of life if you can't bed witches? I swear, torture a few Muggles over the summer and get branded with a mark and all the sudden you both turn into two melancholy fucks. I don't even know you two anymore. "
Draco didn't argue the sentiment. As far as he was concerned—Zabini hit the quaffle through the goal.
When she strode past the collection of couches and noticed the tastefully decorated table with the Champagne fountain and self-filling flutes, Hermione could not help but take one for herself. She could scold herself that it was the first thing she did, but whether or not she wanted to admit it to Harry and Ron, she did have slight reservations about coming tonight.
She was hardly naïve - and she certainly didn't trust the Slytherins fully - but she was confident in her own prowess and should someone attempt to try something, she could certainly defend herself. What was more, how else could one find out what the enemy's intentions were unless they gave them a little bit of leadway? Some rope to hang themselves, as the saying went. At least that was what her logic propelled her to do. If there was an underlying scheme, Hermione would find out.
And if there wasn't, she would be there to encourage unity among the houses of Hogwarts.
Her anger at Harry and now Ron was what ultimately drove her to come tonight. Ginny had decided that they should take some care in putting themselves together for the event, and so she allowed the younger witch to poke and prod at her hair until she had it straightened to a substantial length that fell past her shoulders. Hermione even put a bit of makeup on, and wore a white long sleeve peasant top that revealed her shoulders and her best designer jeans. She hardly had occasion to dress up, and she certainly didn't want to throw herself headfirst into the snake pit without trying a little bit.
Nerves fluttering, she tipped the champagne flute to her mouth and took a sip, relishing in the way in fizzled on her tongue as it slid down her throat.
Where was Ginny anyway? Had they just arrived and already she was being ditched? Hermione may be a courageous lion, but she didn't much care for attending a potentially hostile party by her lonesome. Uncharacteristically bothered, she downed the rest of the champagne in one fell swoop.
Distantly she registered the sound of glass breaking and again wondered where her friend had gone off to.
The thought dissipated into nothing however, when a sudden heat began to creep up her neck. Merlin! But she became hot rather quickly. Uncomfortably so, actually. So much so that she regretted wearing her hair down. Where was a damned hair tie when she needed it?
Adjusting the stretchy material at her shoulders, she felt the clear attention of someone's gaze on her. Whirling on the spot, she turned to see Malfoy staring at her. Sweet Circe but his eyes were the most startling shade of grey. She mentally berated herself over such a silly deduction. Of course they were! They always had been but they were somehow much more noticeable this time. Not only that, but they were kind of… beautiful, really. How many people actually could boast of grey eyes? And his - well they were sort of depthless - like heavy laden with knowledge and secrets or something. She could laugh at such a silly, romantic thought, except she didn't much feel like laughing.
She was hot.
He was still staring.
She did what any lion would do when swept up in the gaze of such a surprisingly beautiful snake.
She turned and fled.
Draco could hardly stomach the unwelcome guests who invaded his childhood sanctuary with their filthy presences and likely muddled blood.
They flitted about the room just as bold as brass, apparently unaware of the fact that he would relish putting any one of them at the opposite end of his wand. Fucking parasites. He needed a drink. He bid one of the floozies that never strayed very far from his side to go fetch him one.
It was almost laughable—how unconcerned with the looming war they all were. Did they not care? Were they that oblivious? A part of Draco envied such ignorance. He had been ignorant once before too, and it truly had been bliss. It was nice to think he knew everything and he was everything and everything basically revolved around him.
It was one hell of a wake up call when he realized just how wrong he'd been.
He tipped the glass back and downed the contents in one graceful drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Instantly, he felt as if the temperature had risen several degrees. His brows drew together in confusion. The castle was a drafty old place—why should he feel hot in the dead of winter? He adjusted his collar in an effort to assuage his growing discomfort.
He could swear he heard the sound of glass breaking, and that should have alerted him that something may be amiss, but it didn't.
He turned his head in the direction of the noise and he was struck senseless by the vision that was Granger.
He waited for the bile to rise in his throat.
Alarmingly, there was nothing funny or insulting or cruel he could dredge up about Granger. She looked rather… nice. Even wearing common Muggle clothes as she was, she still looked… appealing. Her hair was down and somehow tamed. It was enough so that Draco could make out the delicate features of her face. Plump lips and long, sweeping lashes and a splattering of freckles that graced her nose and fell out onto her cheeks.
As if sensing his assessment, she glanced his way. Their gazes cut like shards of scrying crystal.
Draco's brain scrambled for words, his thoughts splintering into a million pieces. Those eyes - honey brown and fucking doe-eyed - vulnerable. They belonged to the type of creature you wanted to protect, but Draco didn't want to protect anyone. When had he? Her open gaze made him feel like he was approaching the orbit of the sun, and maybe that's why it was so hot in here. His vision seemed to focus in on just Granger and she was the only person he was aware of.
So of course he noticed when she turned and fled like a coward.
Oh, but Granger. I wasn't done with you by half.
Theo stood, mouth agape and watched with the rest of the stunned onlookers as Ginevra Weasley attacked Zabini's mouth, her legs wrapped tightly around him as she fisted his Armani coat in her freckled hands.
"Salazar's-balls," he swore. "What did you lot put in the bloody champagne, Higgs?" For that was the only solution for the peculiar behavior. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Ravenclaw student approach the champagne fountain and with a flick of his wand, the fountain was suddenly resting high up on the ceiling.
Higgs crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Are you accusing Hufflepuff of tampering, Nott?"
He twisted his shoulders in a flippant gesture that showed he didn't much care either way. "A coincidence, would you say?"
"No, I wouldn't say. I'd ask your girlfriend. She's the one that came to sample the goods."
Pansy was clawing at Zabini, trying to pull him off of the Weaslette. "Get off her, Blaise. She's put you under a spell or something." But they refused to be separated. Next they'd be fucking like rabbits right there in the dungeons.
"Daphne!" Theo bellowed, watching with grim disapproval as she stepped around a horde of Slytherin girls. "What the fuck is this shit?"
The picture of innocence, she clasped her hands behind her back and stared up at him with wide eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Daphne," he said again, voice dangerously low. "You'd better tell me now, sweetling."
Her eyes fluttered at the old endearment and Theo knew he had her.
He pressed on. "What mischief have you been up to, Pet? You can tell your Teddy-bear." He would fucking murder her. For embarrassing him like this, the Avada she would get.
Her eyes glazed over, and then she confessed her sins. "The Tentigio potion." She smiled smugly. "I spiked the champagne with it. You really did hurt my feelings, Theo. You shouldn't have played with me like that."
"I didn't play with you, you twit. We're fucking over and that's the end of that."
Hurt and betrayal flashed across her face but those emotions were quickly replaced by unabashed rage which burned hotly in her eyes.
"You do realize that particular lust potion brings out inherent feelings of affection?" Higgs asked him.
"What do you mean?" Nott smirked. "Are you saying when the She-Weasel threw down her cup and launched herself at Zabini, the-Italian-Stalion actually has feelings for her?"
Higgs lips twisted in a smirk as Theo's faded. "Exactly."
"Who else drank the champagne before we discovered it was spiked?" He surveyed the room. Where was Draco to help him with this fucking mess?
He turned to see Daphne's wand pointed in his face.
Before he knew it, he was accepting the outstretched glass she held and drinking its contents in one, long gulp.
Higgs chuckled. "I should step in. I know I should, but I just can't. Nott is one annoying fuck." He turned and rejoined the party.
Daphne was… beautiful! He couldn't tell her no. He was a slave for her. He'd go to the ends of the earth for her. She was his angel and he was her Teddy-bear. He told her so.
She waved a finger in his face reproachfully. "No, no, Theo. You've been bad. And bad boys do get punished. Follow me to receive your punishment."
Like a dutiful slave, he followed Daphne straight up to the Slytherin dorms amid the catcalls of the more lucid party guests.
Hermione adjusted her shoulder sleeves for the umpteenth time, wanting to simply yank the damn things off. She was so hot! Heat swept through her like white, hot desperation, leaving a trail of liquid fire in its wake. She wanted… something. Contact, maybe? With another human body.
With a certain human body.
Pale skin. Platinum blond hair. Grey eyes.
Feeling flushed, she once more adjusted the top of her blouse. Merlin, it was only a single glass of champagne! Why was she feeling so… randy. The cobblestone walkway caused her to stumble. Where was she even? She'd wandered to a part of the castle she rarely frequented, especially after dark. Was she to bring in the New Year lost, then? Lost and… quite turned on. Miserably so.
Her jeans felt so tight! She rubbed her hands down her fabric-clad thighs, a vision of a certain Slytherin assaulting her. Merlin, but how he'd filled out this year. She pressed her back against the stone wall and arched it as she called a picture of him up in her mind. Had she told Harry he was just a boy earlier? Erm… no. He was - she whimpered - a man, certainly. Dear God, why did she even leave that party? She should have stayed, if not just to oogle the real him instead of her mind's eye's version.
She was rubbing her ass against the wall.
Appalled, she stepped away and stumbled yet again.
Fuck, had she lost her mind? Sweet Morgana—she just said fuck, even if it was just in her head. Something was well and truly wrong with her. Maybe she could find the Slytherin Common Room again? Maybe she could beg Malfoy for a kiss? Just a New Year's one. Not a big deal or anything. She would explain it was good luck, and then…
...And then she would kiss him and God help the person that tried to stop her.
And there was that wall again. She needed to stop sidling up against walls. She needed to get to her room at least. At least if she were there she could - she blushed furiously - try to relieve her little problem herself, dare she hope? But how would she ever get there? One could not simply squirm to their room.
"Wayward lions should never find themselves alone in the dungeons, Granger."
His voice, echoing in the empty hallway, was raw, wrong somehow.
He listed his head, looking at her with a strange expression on his face. "It's dangerous," he continued. "They're vulnerable."
Dear God. She should say something in return, but what? And how did one say anything? She searched her brain for anything useful. Wow, Malfoy. It's nice that you can communicate via English, are there any other skills you possess that you wouldn't mind sharing?
"Malfoy," she said instead. Nice.
"Granger," he drawled, and Hermione thought that at this point it may be wise to be worried. Shit! She was alone in the dungeons with a snake, on his territory, and if his darkened eyes were any indication—he meant her harm. "What are you doing here? Just… lingering in the dungeons. Are you waiting for me?"
Her worry escalated. "Oh… well… why would I be waiting for you?" If there was a tremble in her voice, it was a small price to pay in exchange for being able to articulate herself with actual words.
"You left the party early." He loosened his tie. Was Malfoy hot too? "Did you not find it suitable to your liking?"
"Oh." She fiddled with her fingers now, flaming crimson. "No, it was a very nice party, as far as parties go."
"But you left."
"I was hot."
His nostrils flared and she licked her lips, suddenly wanting desperately to kiss him. It was such a bizarre urge, but it was far too strong to ignore. She wanted to kiss him and she wanted to kiss him badly.
"Hot?" He cocked his head and it somehow reminded her of a predator.
Who knew Malfoy could be so foreboding. Aside from this year, she only thought him irritating. How people change.
Suddenly, he was too close. Personal space—what was that? He was taking it over. The heat was stifling. "I'm sorry," the dark inflection of his apology turned her insides to molten lava. "It's just… you smell so fucking glorious," he rushed, his eyes glowing with awe. "I never knew before, but how could I not have noticed." He loosened his tie until it hung halfway down his chest. Sweat begun to culminate on his neck and Hermione was struck with the odd notion to lick it off. What the bloody hell was wrong with her? "Come with me."
It was a demand, not a question, but she answered it anyway.
"Anywhere. Anywhere we can be alone. I just want to kiss you."
Her stomach flipped. The admission lay heavily in the air between them. Malfoy had just confessed he wanted to kiss her. The earth must be spinning on its axis right now. Statements like that weren't possible in the universe she called home..
"Just kissing." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Is that all?"
"Yes." He nodded eagerly. Too eagerly. "An innocent snog. Unless…" he peered into her eyes, "unless you want more?"
Did he appear hopeful? Hermione must be losing her mind. Lust exploded through her chest and raced down her spine. The idea of shagging the man senseless streaked across her brain. She shook her head against the foreign and completely uncharacteristic lustful thoughts. "I'd like a New Year's Kiss."
Malfoy extended his hand. "I'd like to give it to you."
She was soft.
Softer than he would ever have imagined.
Her hair was so fragrant he couldn't help but burrow his face in it. She made him dizzy with want. Whatever Draco had imbued in that had caused him to be so reckless in the first place wasn't helping. He placed a hand on the back of her neck, gentle but firm in his grip.
This was it. There was no going back after this. Once he pressed his lips up to hers and sucked her dirty blood to the surface, he would taint himself forever.
He could give a fuck less.
He slanted his mouth against hers with all the ferocity of a wild animal and instead of recoiling, his blood sang. He knew it was coming but he inexplicably wasn't prepared for the explosiveness of it, for the miracle that happened when they finally connected. His teeth bit her bottom lip hungrily, then sucked the spot until it was swollen. It was a battle of wills, because in typical Granger fashion, she did not let him take the lead. When she kissed him, all he could think about was the softness of her lips as they brushed his and how wild and frantic he was for more of her decadent taste.
Her kiss was a sweet caress that laced fire through his bloodstream, infecting him like poison through his system. If this is what it was like to be tarnished by her filth, then he would bear the burden daily. He realized they were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, but the urge to deepen the kiss was overwhelming. Her essence swept over him, pulling him in deeper. Something citrusy-sweet and intrinsically Granger drugged him senseless.
"You taste so good," he praised, as he secured his hands around her waist. "Fuck you're delicious."
She gasped and then he was slipping his tongue in her mouth, twining it with hers in a struggle for dominance. Exploring the decadent flavors of her mouth became his life's mission. It gave him a voracious sort of thrill to know he was doing this when he knew he shouldn't. His tongue thrashed against hers, searching and exploring and grazing against teeth. Fucking forbidden Granger, and damn if she didn't taste the sweetest just like all the age old sayings went in regards to forbidden fruit.
"Mmm," he moaned into her mouth whilst seizing her hips possessively. His body was on fire. Innocent snogging? No way! He had to see how far she'd let him go. Coax her, press her, beg her, whatever he needed to do to get her to let him do more. He had to have her. He'd sampled the fruit and a taste would never be enough.
He felt the steady thrumming of her heart against his chest and around a moan he shoved his hands into her hair. His cock was hard. Incredibly hard. He never got so wound up just from snogging alone but with Granger he had. Savoring her exquisite taste was enough to have him throbbing and he was losing his way, dissolving and all because of her.
He broke away, panting and licked a trail along her ear. "Look what you do." He pressed himself against the vee of her thighs so she could feel him. "So bad, Granger."
"Malfoy." Her eyes were heavy-lidded and confused. "This can't be just a kiss. I feel so hot. I can't—."
His tongue devoured her. His mind raced and pretty soon it would shatter into a million pieces but that was fine as long as he had her. He would break screaming her name. They both needed air, but they didn't care. Dizzy with want he tongued her with blatant sexual desire, telling her just what he intended to do when she let him go further, and she would let him. Salazar's balls, but her lips were the most potent aphrodisiac. Forget whatever he had been slipped, this was better.
Free hand securing her waist, he pressed her closer and his arousal jerked, throbbing with the need to be encased in tight, hot perfection. Granger, would let him. If she didn't, he may as well commit himself to St. Mungo's Ward for the Mentally Insane. That's what she did to him. Turned his mind to mush. His adrenaline pumped as if readying himself for a fight, and maybe this was a fight. With her it had always been a battle. But now she was yielding and he never could have guessed how much better things were when she yielded.
She shifted underneath him and there was a fiery tightening in his balls. He broke away from her mouth and forced his eyes cool and focused on her decadent body. Part of him wondering how he could possibly be allowing this to go further, but who sodding cared if he allowed it to go further? He wanted her and that white, hot need eviscerated everything else from his mind. He curled her leg around his hip and let his hands wander brazenly over her chest as he sucked her neck.
"I like this blouse," he said between licks while simultaneously tugging it down. Granger arched her chest and made the most delightful sound. "Did you wear it for me?" His eyes roved over her bra-clad breast. It was strapless and easy to be rid of. He yanked it down too. "Did you know it was for me that you would share your New Year's Kiss with, beautiful?"
"No, did you?" she quipped, her voice breathy.
He growled, and then he dipped down to suck on her tits and stake his claim. Granger was his. His hands glided everywhere as his mouth worked over her chest. The sounds that permeated the empty classroom were vulgar enough to make a portrait blush and that only spurred him on further. He trailed a hand up her thigh and slipped it between her legs, brushing the jean-clad skin of her inner thighs. She squirmed deliciously underneath him.
"Merlin, Granger. If I'd known you were packing these underneath all those robes, I might have been nicer to you."
"Would you have?"
"Yes, beautiful." He twirled his tongue around her nipple whilst gently kneading the other breast.
"That's foul, Malfoy." Her attempt to chastise him was ruined by the high pitch of his name. "And since when do you think I'm beautiful?"
He moved his mouth to suckle her neck, kissing and nuzzling it hotly. He found that certain spots made her writhe in pleasure and he focused his attention on those pulse points more frequently. "Let's just say, tonight the scales have fallen from my eyes. I want to fuck you so bad it hurts."
Alarm bells rang off in his head at the honest confession, but when she only moaned in response he hardened to steel and couldn't resist palming his erection.
"The jeans," he rasped. "Off."
Her fingers flew shakily to the small button of her trousers and she began peeling the second skin from her body. Draco removed his coat as she did, all the while watching her. His eyes were glued to her lower body, and then to her light blue cotton knickers once they were exposed to him.
"I can smell how wet you are." He made quick work of ridding himself of his shirt and trousers so that just his black silk and uncomfortably tented boxers remained. He flexed a hand across her bare midriff as he knelt down to suck the hollow of her neck. "Spread your legs," he whispered against her skin. She let out a low whine in response but kept her legs frustratingly closed. A finger skimmed between her knees and up the crease lightly. "Come on," he teased. "Be a good girl and spread them for me."
Ever so slowly, her knees fell apart displaying her precious knickers to his roving eyes. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her closer. "Fuck, Granger, I can feel the heat radiating from between your legs. So hot and so wet, I just want to slam my cock deep inside you so I can feel you around me, I want to bury myself deep inside you, would you like that?" He dropped one leg and ran his fingers over her cloth-clad slit. The sounds escaping her throat were music to his ears. She looked tormented, and he felt a jolt of triumph at being the one to make her feel this way. "Yes, Granger. You don't understand what those sounds you make do to me. I love to hear you pant. It makes me want to slam my tongue, my fingers, my cock into your pussy and watch your gorgeous face twist in bliss. Want me to, beautiful?"
"Yes!" she cried, whipping her head back and forth in desperation. "I want you to. Please, Malfoy."
The painful yearning was really becoming tortuous at this point. He was beginning to wonder if he could stick his tongue in her and somehow not manage to come instantaneously. He licked his lips before leaning down to kiss her and spectacularly her mouth opened to him. Wet, hot heat engulfed his tongue while his fingers slipped underneath her knickers to discover even hotter, tight, liquid lava. Magic thrummed through his body.
The noises that left Hermione's throat didn't sound like anything she'd made before. Malfoy inserted a finger slowly into her pulsating channel, and withdrew it a second later. She gripped the sides of the desk, her mind going fuzzy as the heat wrought havoc through her body.
"Malfoy," she gasped, rocking her hips towards him.
"You want me to touch you again, beautiful?" he inquired roughly, his silver, hot gaze piercing through her. He brushed her lightly, his knuckles just skimming her clit and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.
"Malfoy, please," she begged, unable to string together longer sentences. She'd never been so hot in all her life. The feeling was so foreign, but all-consuming and impossible to ignore.
"Please what? Do you want my fingers… my tongue… my cock? You'll have to tell me, love." There was a taunting lilt to his voice that caused the burn between her thighs to intensify. It was bleating and thudding painfully with white, hot yearning. The need she felt was mirrored in his darkened eyes. She made him hungry, and such a thought was an intoxicating revelation.
"Everything," she arched her back, her bra too tight below her breasts and his gaze locked on them, "I want you to do everything."
His face splintered with raw lust, and then he was wrapping his arms tightly around her legs and pulling her to his mouth urgently. Something cracked at the base of her spine as she surged forward, but she didn't care, because she could feel the heat of his tongue as it melted into her. She let out a sharp moan and clutched his shoulder with one hand while digging her fingers in his hair with the other, pressing him to her shamelessly as she arched into him. One of her flats was missing, wrapped up in her hastily discarded jeans, and the other was still on her foot. She pushed her heels into his sides as he latched his mouth onto her core and then proceeded to devoured her.
Shots of pleasure shuddered through her as her mind went blissfully blank. There was room for nothing more but that intense longing she felt for him. Each fervent swipe of his tongue was met with a litany of mewls and whimpers from her mouth. He let her leg hang around his neck and thrust a finger in her scorching heat while he licked around her clit.
"Fuck," he whispered against her huskily. "One finger and so tight already… so tight, Granger… imagine how my cock will feel."
He continued to lap at her, only stopping to mumble filthy things which to her shame only made her feel more hungry for him. He told her how perfect she looked spread open for him like a good little Mudblood, and instead of pushing off the desk, grabbing her things, and fleeing the room, she only moaned louder. She was a sobbing mess and he had reduced her to that. Each seductive word and every flick of his fingers or curl of his tongue brought her closer to the edge, the coil in her core tightening. His hand gripped her ass firmly to keep her from bucking against him because she was there - right fucking there - and she'd give anything for him to send her careening off of the ledge she found herself on.
"Don't close your eyes."
Her eyes fluttered open.
"I want you to see me do this to you."
She caught a flash of black across pale skin, and absently noted the Dark Mark emblazoned on his forearm. Still, her mind was languid and only archived that little bit of information for later. Harry was right. Whatever. She did not want to think about Harry right now. She wanted to think about the Death Eater that was kneeling between the slopes of her thighs and lapping her up like she was a delicious treat.
A cruel Death Eater.
She could make that distinction.
He kept her so cruelly on the edge of reaching her pleasure, as if to punish her. His fingertips alternating between tracing lazy circles and rubbing her quickly. Her pulse thrummed through her as her body prepared for something big—the promise of sweet delirium.
"Malfoy, please!" Her head thrashed back and forth as she writhed against him. "I can't take it."
"I know, Granger." He broke away and crawled up her body but his fingers stayed. He stared down at her with indescribable intensity. "Tell me what you need, baby. I'll give it to you."
She felt his arousal - so rock hard it had to hurt him - pressed up against her stomach. There wasn't an ounce of shame left in her. She'd already endured Pureblood insults and barely batted an eyelash at the discovery of his Dark Mark, she could tell him the filthy thing he wanted to hear.
She pressed up on her forearms, feeling far sexier than she had any right to, but he made her feel that way. Chocolate eyes sought out molten metal. "I want to come, Malfoy. Make me come."
He let out an anguished groan that shot straight to her core and then he worked his fingers frantically, all the while coaxing her and praising her. He told her how beautiful she was - filthy - but beautiful, and how he wanted to see her face twist in pleasure more than he wanted air to breathe. The ledge ran up to meet her and her mouth fell open in a silent scream as a shuddering wave of heat wracked her body.
Lightheaded, she felt his lips press against her mouth, hard and demanding. He kissed her and she relinquished her death grip on the desk to cradle his face in her hands. Aftershocks of pleasure caused her to buck, but there was nothing to clench onto thanks to the absence of his fingers. Prepared to voice her complaint, she could only moan her appreciation as she felt him poised at her entrance, his erection prodding. She was recently sated, but still craved fulfillment, that strange heat spurring her on.
Heart hammering, she watched as Malfoy clung tightly to her hips and pushed into her entrance an inch at a time. His face was twisted as if he were in agony, but each move was made with precise focus. The typically vocal Slytherin was uncharacteristically silent.
Feeling wicked, she squirmed in his grip in an attempt to distract him. "Mmm, Malfoy. That's nice."
"Fuck," he slid into further and swallowed convulsively, "be still."
But she refused to. He had taken joy in torturing her and she wouldn't take it easy on him. She only felt the tip of him in her, his wide girth spreading her, but it was enough to squeeze him, causing his eyes to instantly widen and a groan to wrench from his lips.
He fell forward on his hands, releasing her hips and hovering over her. From this angle, she could admire the strain in his face. She took a moment to flick his sweaty fringe behind his ears. The arms that caged her were shaking. He was mouthing the word fuck over and over.
Hermione did not have the patience, she wanted this man and she wanted him badly. Her vision had shrank to him alone. The need to have him take her hard and fast had her arching wantonly.
"Malfoy," she brought her hands to his arse and used all her strength to push down, "haven't you teased me enough, baby?"
Something wild and predatory flashed through his eyes as he thrust into her, sheathing to her to the hilt and slamming right through her thin barrier.
She gasped at the jolt of pain, but the pleasure she felt far outshadowed it.
"Fuck, Granger," his face was torn as if he were battling himself, "not with Potter or the Weasel?"
She shifted her hips experimentally. "Please don't talk about them now." She swatted his hand away as he tried to still her hips and moved again underneath him. "Just shut up and shag me."
His mouth fell slack as another aftershock caused her walls to flutter around him. "With pleasure."
And then he was moving, and she knew she could get another orgasm with the way he was slamming into her though she was still buzzing from her last. The recently snapped coil seemed to magically straighten and become taut once more. She let her head fall back on the desk with a clank as her eyes screwed shut in pleasure.
"So good, Granger," he snapped his hips and stared down at her in disbelief as his pleasure mounted, "so perfect, fuck, beautiful, you feel so good. You're so tight… feel so good… ah… I love it. I want more. I want to see you come again. Your face is so flushed… and pretty when you… ah… come. I'll never fucking forget. You're so hot beautiful, fucking scorching, ah… I'm not gonna last."
Letting instinct drive her, Hermione raised her hips to meet his and squeezed on every downward thrust. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and brushed against something that caused her to moan in pleasure with the change in angle. She arched her back and dug her heels into him as the exquisite sensation rocked her. He hit that sweet spot every time and soon she was panting with need.
"Yes, beautiful, make those sounds for me. I need to hear them," he drawled. "I need to hear you." The muscles and tendons shifted in his arms as he held himself above her. "Give them to me… don't hold back." The speed in which they moved was manic, and she found herself running up to a chasm far deeper than the last. Desperate and frantic, she slithered her arm around his neck and fisted her fingers in his hair. The need to squeeze him was overpowering and when her pleasure hit her the second time, white light exploded behind her eyes. He soon lost his steady rhythm and pounded into her with abandon, growling her name when he came.
His erection didn't soften, and the bleating need she felt was still wild for more.
"What the fuck is happening?" Malfoy furrowed his brows in confusion as he attempted to regain his breath.
"I don't know." Hermione jumped him then and they both went grappling to the floor. "But I want more."
"So do I."
He kissed her and she straddled him, heart hammering as his hands wandered possessively over her body, exploring each curve. The bizarre heat she felt earlier in the evening hadn't left her, and apparently it hadn't left him. His need was voracious and he was still hard as a rock. She took her time lowering herself on him until just the tip was inside her. Her hands ran through his deceptively soft hair and pulled and tugged, mussing it up thoroughly. Sweet Circe, but he looked good like this. He looked like hers. And each kiss she gave him was meant to claim him. He tasted like champagne and peppermint and something forbidden. He tasted provocative and so intrinsically Malfoy.
He gripped his hands on her waist and tried to pull her down on his hardened member, but she strained against him, content to merely tease him for now. He broke their kiss with a growl and moved to her neck, where he focused with rapt attention. He nuzzled and sucked her most sensitive pulse points until he had her writhing with want. Grey eyes were brimming with possessive hunger, and Hermione suspected that he wanted to brand her as much as she wanted to claim him.
When he clamped down on her shoulder a moment later, she knew it to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt.
"You're mine," he told her with grim satisfaction, his tone gravelly and his hands moving to squeeze and knead her breasts.
"What an archaic notion," she quipped, her voice low and husky. "And your what, exactly, your Mudblood?"
Malfoy clenched and unclenched his jaw. "My witch."
And then he was kissing her once more, searing his mouth to hers as if to mark her forever. He nipped at her bottom lip punishingly spurring on the delicious heat that poured through her. She wouldn't be outdone. She dropped herself fully, impaling herself on his cock. His touch lightened and his mouth fell slack from the feeling of being encased in her scorching heat once more.
She clutched onto his shoulders and pushed her hips back and forth, gasping in pleasure as she felt him rub over and over on that sweet spot deep inside her.
"Malfoy," she breathed. "Oh my God."
His fingers tightened at her hips and he moved her up before slamming her down, groaning at the friction such a movement created. "Like this, beautiful. Shag me like this."
Hermione was nothing if not a fast learner. She rode him slow and hard until she had him begging for her to go faster. There was no more talk of Mudbloods or filthy blood. He sang nothing but incoherent praises as she moved over him in the most intimate way. His body was heat and hard planes as she let her hands roam his back, neck, and chest, tracing the muscles and scars she found there. She found that she liked when he sucked on her breasts as she rode him, and so he did so diligently.
"Fuck, baby." His eyes burned into her - eyes of a predator - and the rawness only made her want to give herself to him completely, somehow.
Squeezing between their two bodies, his fingers found her clit. He rubbed her leisurely and the exquisite feeling made her lightheaded. Her body was singing and aflame with heat. She felt his tongue sweep across her lips, but couldn't focus on anything but the burning desperation that flushed between her legs like a rabid animal. The musky cloud of their arousal and the sheer feeling of his fingers as she continued to move over him had her spiraling towards her pleasure a third time. Her brain was splitting and in a blinding moment of ecstasy, her universe exploded and she went lax in his arms. He gripped her hips harder and pounded into her relentlessly through her orgasm until he was howling with his own.
Hermione woke up feeling sore in all the wrong places.
She was sleeping on something hard and her muscles ached with a fury. More alarmingly, someone was cradling her.
She froze before working up the courage to turn around and see who it was she was in the arms of. The shock she should feel at discovering Malfoy was indeed the culprit was short-lived. Memories from the night before came flooding back to her in all their provocative glory. She flamed crimson when she saw how naked they both were. She went even redder still upon registering the fact that Malfoy did not look so bad nakad. On the contrary, he looked rather exceptional.
Her eyes searched frantically for her clothes but they were strewn about the abandoned classroom and - Merlin! - where was her bloody wand? There wasn't much she could very well do about it, as Malfoy had her anchored down in a sort of death grip.
"Malfoy," she whispered urgently, as she shook him. "Malfoy!" She shook him forcefully, using his coat they had apparently been sharing to cover herself. It was freezing! "Let go of me!"
He looked content if not serene, and Hermione felt bad for waking him but she needed to figure out what to do. His eyes fluttered open. He looked hazy and uncertain, but to her shock, he actually graced her with a lazy half smile. "Granger," he said calmly.
"Malfoy, can you please let go of me? I need to…" she gulped and averted her eyes. "I need to get dressed."
Awareness dawned on him and he whipped his arm away so fast it blurred.
"Turn around," her voice was low and urgent, as if they could be discovered.
He rolled his eyes. "Really, Granger? After everything?" But he listened to her just the same.
Hermione wrapped the coat around her like a towel and moved quickly to pluck their clothing from the floor, throwing his at his feet. Her bra ruined, she shrugged into her shirt and pulled on her jeans without bothering to put on her knickers first. She could only find one of her flats.
"You can look now," she told him, but blushed furiously when she turned to find him in the process of pulling on his trousers.
"Erm… what… how…. I don't understand how that happened." Her nipples hardened in her shirt and she wished desperately for a bra, but even more she needed a shower. She was distinctly uncomfortable between her legs. "Sweet Morganna, what if I'm pregnant?"
His head whipped around. "You weren't on the potion?"
"I wasn't sexually active." She nibbled on her swollen lower lip. "So no, I had no reason to be."
"That doesn't sound like the responsible Granger I know," he grumbled.
Hermione tugged at her hair, brushing her fingers through tangles. A giddy sort of thrill burst through her. She knew she was not looking at the situation with the singleminded focus she typically tackled a problem with, but her mind was knackered. "Oh God, a Death Eater baby. I can't even imagine." She turned accusatory eyes on him. "Why did you not come prepared, Malfoy? Surely you would have reason to be."
He sighed, a muscle twitching by his jaw as he buttoned his shirt. "I don't know what hit me last night."
"Well do you? No? didn't think so. Maybe our drinks were spiked at the party. With a lust potion, I'd wager."
She fiddled with her sleeves, remembering the strange heat that convoluted her thoughts since imbuing in the champagne. "You're probably right." He was definitely right. She could hardly blame him, however convenient it would be to do so. He was a victim just like she her. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, it isn't your fault."
"No, it's yours for not being on the potion as every other witch in fifth year and up is."
"It's not the time to point fingers."
Malfoy placed his hands in his pockets and just looked at her. His usually styled hair was completely riled - her doing - she remembered with a blush and maybe a small sense of pride.
"So… what do we do now?"
He looked at the ceiling, as if the solution was hidden there. "I should Obliviate you. You know too much."
"No?" His brows rose in surprise. He took a step toward her quietly, and then suddenly his hawthorn wand was dangling loosely in his fingers—fingers she blushed to remember had been places she'd let no other wizard before. "I'm good at it, Granger." His voice was soft and wholly calm. "I would be precise, I promise. I wouldn't take anything extra"
Hermione felt suddenly panicked. She didn't want to lose her memories! It had been her first time, and… it was glorious. With sudden conviction, she realized she wanted to keep them desperately. "Please don't, Malfoy. I don't want to forget. I…" she looked away, averting her eyes. "I liked it."
"I won't tell anyone." She turned around with hope in her eyes. "I promise I won't."
"Still. I can't have someone know a secret like that about me. Surely you see why."
"So you didn't like it?" Tears clogged her throat as hurt briefly flashed across her stormy gaze.
"Don't be daft, Granger, of course I liked it." He looked away and swore. "If I'm going to erase your memories, I don't mind confessing it was the best night of my life—potion induced or not. In fact, the potion's long since worn off and I still feel like I could have another go with you right now."
"Oh, God no."
"I know, I know. I'm not trying to, I'm just letting you know. I more than liked it. Fucking Salazar, I wish…" he glanced away, rage contorting his face. "I wish things didn't have to be the way they are. I wish the circumstances were different. I know you probably think that's pathetic."
"I don't think it's pathetic," she was quick to assure him, hope surging in her chest.
She shook her head. "I think… I think exactly the same thing. About last night, I mean. My feelings… they haven't gone away."
"What are you saying?"
She gnawed on her lip, unable to believe she would even suggest such a crazy idea, but dear God—she couldn't lose him! "What I'm saying is… what if we keep meeting each other… in secret?"
Her heart hammered in her chest as she waited for his reply. She tried to assess his reaction but his face was inscrutable. Seconds ticked by and she had the overwhelming compulsion to take her words back.
"Granger," he looked torn once more, but determination blazed in his eyes. "Hermione. I'm a Death Eater. You know I can't… Merlin, we are on opposite sides of a war."
But Hermione would not let him say no. She wanted this. It was true that they were technically enemies, but what if she could make him change? If even a little bit of those feelings he felt for her under the influence of the potion had followed him into the morning, then they stood a chance. How could he not begun to think differently if someone he cared for was at risk under the regime he served? He would eventually come around—he had to! Her intentions were noble. Wars were won thanks to unusual alliances. Besides, she wanted to keep seeing him for selfish reasons, regardless if she could admit that to herself or not.
"Please, Draco." She took a step closer and he took a step back, but she didn't stop her advancement until his back was pressed flush against the wall. "It's more than lust… what I feel… it's a connection. I want to keep seeing you because I'd like to. Don't we owe ourselves that much?" She listed her head, and he watched her warily. "Can't we just try it? I'll make a wizard's vow not to tell your secret, but just give it a chance."
His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes burned into her intensely as he inwardly grappled with his answer. "You really want to?" He searched in her eyes for the answer and she nodded vigorously. He threw his head back against the wall and balled his hands into fists. "I don't need a distraction, Granger. I don't need to catch feelings for someone. I'm under a lot of pressure."
"Fine," she cooed, closing the space between them and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Not a distraction. Just someone to blow off steam with." The lie curled off her tongue so easily, even her Slytherin might be proud. A mad giggle rang in her head at the possessive reference. She had no intention of being flippant with him, but she would let him think so for now, until he was wrapped up so deep he would surely turncoat for her. She could already see the budding feelings he tried to deny in his eyes. "I promise. I won't be a distraction, well, just a positive one." She smirked and mischief smoldered in her eyes.
"Fuck, Granger." But she could see the fight drain out of him and give way to acceptance. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips as his hands anchored themselves around her hips. His voice was low and gravelly as he spoke, causing gooseflesh to spread across her skin. "When and where do you want to meet again, beautiful?"
Triumph shrilled through her chest and she allowed her eyes to sparkle with delight as she reached up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear.
It was only the first battle, but she had won, and if she played her cards right, it would be the first victory of many.