How Draco and Harry Became Draco And Harry

or What Draco and Hermione Could've Had if She Was At All Competent with Wandless Magic.

Harry smirked as he slid into a chair across from his best friend. In all of his seven years at Hogwarts, he had never seen Hermione do anything but study whilst situated in a library. Yet, here she was, moaning and squirming away like nobody's business. She built up to a resounding climax (it was literally resounding. Harry could almost feel it.), and shook back down to a few occasional tremors.

Harry had just seen Hermione in the throes of a Wet Dream. A year ago, he would've found that shocking (Hermione can't have wet dreams! She's a girl! etc.) and weird (Hermione can't have wet dreams! She's my best friend! Best friends are always asexual! etc.), but Harry had over gone a sexual revolution since he decided that redheads didn't go well with his complexion. Bye-bye, Ginny. Hello, sweet everybody-else.

She began to stir (as in, awakening. Not in passion. Hermione doesn't have that fast of a reaction time. Sorry, folks.), and Harry smiled at the possibility of humiliating her for at least five minutes.


Hermione sighed lustily, her eyes glazed over with remnants of her damn good dream.

She looked around, hoping not too many people had experienced Naughty Head Girl Going at It in the Library (One Night Only!). As she turned her head, she saw Harry with a grin so sharp it could cut scissors.

"Oh, it's you. Hullo, Harry. I suppose you've just seen me orgasm, and you sat down in hopes of humiliating me for at least five minutes. Go ahead. Have at it. I'll be here for a while with nothing else to do."


Harry's grin dimmed a bit at her nonchalant attitude, but he quickly turned it back up to full power. It was the one nice thing even Moldievort would've said about him: he was nothing but persistent.

"So, you and Ron, eh? Wink wink nudge nudge, hmm? Have a good time?-"

He would've blathered on for an infinitely long time ("Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"), but Hermione cut him off scornfully.

"Ron? Psh. Who would have a wet bloody dream about Ron but Ginny?"


(Intermission: A small red-haired girl walks angrily up to Hermione, and slaps her clean across the face.

Ginny: You stupid bitch! Some people think incest is attractive!

Hermione (snorts): Yeah, if it's Lucius/Draco, or James/Harry. Not two redheads awkwardly fucking away.

Harry (unashamed): My dad and I are quite hot, aren't we? But only in the fics where he's not dead. The others are a bit creepy. (Harry beams.)

End Intermission- Back to Hermione)


"No, I was dreaming about the only other guy at this school worthy of causing a wet dream. Besides you, of course. You really are quite fit. But you're my best friend, and therefore asexual, so I can't have wet dreams about you."

Harry blinked confusedly, and tried to think of any guy at Hogwarts that would be arousing to even the so-called Sexless Bookworm. He couldn't, so he blinked confusedly again.

Hermione sighed impatiently. "Draco. Malfoy. As in Draco blond god, hello, let me rip your shirt off with my impressively white teeth Malfoy?"

Harry was overwhelmed with emotions. Draco Malfoy. Who could possibly-? Who would ever-? No, Hermione had to be playing a joke on him, because she didn't want to admit that she had wet dreams about Ron. With that thought in mind, he threw back his head and let loose Harry Potter's Carefree Laugh© No. Two.

Hermione scowled at him. "Don't you shove your copyrighted laughter at me. I'm serious! Haven't you ever thought of him in a way that's remotely not "My Worst Enemy Now That Snape and That Funky Snake Bastard Are Dead Now"? Picture it. You wake up in a dark room, having no idea where you are. You only know you're naked against a wall, your hands and feet held there by Semi-Permanent Sticking Charms. And then, you feel a tongue trail slowly across your collarbone, teeth dragged across your shoulder."

"You shiver, and your mind races with confusion. You think, who the hell is this sexy kinkmaster, and why the fuck did he choose me? But then thoughts are lost, as his tongue, his teeth, dip lower… and lower…"

Hermione sighed, and then looked critically at Harry, who by this time was in alternate states of drooling ecstasy and mindless panting. "But I suppose he can't lick you out. You're not a girl. Pity. Oh well, I suppose he'd just tell you in that husky I've-been-shagging-all-day tone he has to spread your legs wider after he removes the Sticking Charms on your feet. And you feel the brush of his magic tingling down your legs, like you want his essence to be. And you spread, more than you've ever done before, and it aches, but you know it'll be worth it when he- Oh! Puts his tongue right there and swirls it around teasingly. And you cry out, and he lifts his head up, and you see stormy grey eyes in the shaft of moonlight that mysteriously appears in the room. And he says, his voicedropping down into what I like to call the Sex Register, 'You're mine, -'"

Potter. I'm going to fuck you now. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his erection beyond Epic Proportions. He had never known that Hermione could be that vivid of a story teller. He would have to keep that in mind for future "House get-togethers" (i.e., mind-blowing orgies). It truly was a wonder that he had never thought of Malfoy as the sexy Slytherin he truly was. He had such sexy eyes, and a sexy smirk, and Harry was sure he had a sexy Quidditch-toned body.

Alright! Harry had beaten around the bush long enough (approximately 5.7 seconds)! He would no longer deny his feelings for that sexy Slytherin, and he would prove how much he felt for him. Right. Now.

He glanced at Hermione, who was doing her own Squirmy Dance in the chair, and saw in her expressive eyes that same sentiment which Harry was declaring in his own heart: It's Time to Fuck a Malfoy. Her eyes narrowed and she oh-so-casually reached for her wand. Harry frowned in pity for her, and flicked his fingers in Hermione's direction. Her face turned pleasantly blank and her eyes dreamy.

Harry leaned across the table and whispered, "You are having a nice wet dream about Ronald. You love him, and want to have at least seven children with him."

Hermione smiled sleepily, nodded, and plunked her head back down. Harry watched for a few minutes, until she was in the state which he first saw her in. He patted her head, she moaned Ron's name, and tried to rut against his hand. Poor girl, he thought as skipped happily towards his sexy Slytherin. She should've known no one can compete with Harry Potter's Wandless Nonverbal Obliviate.


In a small dormitory, a peaceful Draco Malfoy had just begun a nice mid-afternoon nap. He didn't expect a horny Harry Potter to blast into his room approximately three-and-a-half minutes later.

He was quite put out at first, but in a half-hour, he seemed to be getting over his disappointment…


Author's Note: Um… Hi. :] This idea just popped into me head, and I had to write it.

Many people have told me they started out as Dramione fans, and then were plunged into the world of Draco/Harry, and have never looked back.

Yep. I'm one of 'em.

It was actually started in an attempt to be Hard-Core Smut, but half-way through writing this, I started reading all these fics where the author only used two words to describe Draco throughout the entire bloody thirty chapters. Or something like that.

Ahem. Sexy Slytherin. Cough cough. So it's partially an attempt at parody, but I dunno if I succeeded.

You tell me.