Authors Note: This is for the Decedent Desserts Challenge, found at the Twin Exchange forum. Also, angelically-devilish outdid herself beta'ing this, so much love for her.
Hermione let out an irritated huff and watched as the pair of Ravenclaw fourth years raced back to their common room. Their echoing giggles irritated her more than the fact that she had just caught them out after hours. Just once she would like to be taken seriously by the rest of the student body.
She stood in the middle of the sixth floor corridor, listening to the ancient groaning of the castle - the stones moving against each other, the moaning of wood as doorways changed and morphed, and the clatter of Peeves causing mischief somewhere far below. The sounds were familiar and comforting, and the castle seemed to be as alive as it had been before the final battle. It made her inordinately happy that nothing had changed upon her return.
Nobody was more surprised than her when Draco Malfoy had been announced as Head Boy along side her. She left the corridor and checked her watch, finding it close to midnight and the end of her rounds. She wondered where Draco was and if he had once again shirked off his duties and gone to bed early.
Theirs was a rather tense relationship. It was clear that Malfoy was feeling remorseful about his role in the war, but everybody knew what he had done he had out of loyalty to his family and to save his own life. His name had been cleared and he - like so many others - had returned to Hogwarts for their seventh and final year. He never looked her in the eye, he barely spoke to her, and Hermione wondered if he was still haunted by that night in Malfoy Manor, just as she was.
She grimaced and wrapped her arms around her waist, her body – as if it knew what she had been thinking about – protesting as she stepped on the marble staircase. The long-term effects of the Cruciatus were something she had never looked into before. Most research focused on the curse itself - nobody had ever spoken to the victim about the ongoing pain and other such difficulties before. Sucking in a breath and walking down the ever-changing stairs, she decided to depart from the pity train before it left the station, as there was no point wallowing in what couldn't have been prevented.
Giving a thorough sweep of the Great Hall but finding it empty and silent, she decided to stop by the kitchens to see if the house-elves had any left over cherry pie from dinner. The paintings along the long hallway were all asleep by the time she came to the still life of the fruit bowl. She reached out and tickled the pear and watched as it revealed the kitchen's entrance.
She entered with a small smile, expecting an army of house-elves to greet her. That smile left, however, when she realized there was not a house elf in sight - just a certain blonde who was sitting at a small table in the corner of the room happily eating a large slice of pie.
She stopped short and contemplated turning around and forgetting all about the midnight snack. Draco didn't seem to notice her at all; his head bowed over a book as he absently cut a chunk of pie and bought it up to his mouth. The movement was graceful and looked almost practiced. If it had been her, she would have ended up with pie down her front and all over her book.
Her stomach growled as she watched him eat and deciding she would rather endure his company with pie involved than go to bed without, she addressed him.
"Are you finished your rounds?" she asked, breaking the silence and stepping in to the room.
Draco slowly placed his fork down on the plate, closed his book, and turned to look at her. His piercing grey eyes made her shiver as she once again thought about leaving.
"Yes, everything was fine on the west side of the castle. I came here for some peace and quiet before I returned to my common room," he told her in clipped tones, his annoyance at being disturbed was palpable.
She took a deep breath and decided to plunge forth, refusing to be intimidated when she had as much right to be there as he did.
"There were two Ravenclaw's on the north staircase, that was all," she replied. "I thought I would nip in here for some pie before heading in for the night."
He continued to stare at her, his face masked.
"Well I am sorry to disappoint Granger, but you wasted your time."
"I did what? You have no right to tell me where I can and can't go," she spluttered indignantly, folding her arms across her chest.
Malfoy merely smirked, shook his head in disbelief, and turned back to his book, effectively dismissing her.
"You misunderstand," he drawled.
"I do?" she asked with disbelief, watching as he picked up the fork and brought another bite to his mouth.
He swallowed before answering: "This is the last piece of pie."
"Oh," she replied, flushing at her outburst and feeling like she should apologize.
""Oh" indeed. So if you will just toddle along and leave me be, we can both get on with the rest of the night," he said, another bite of pie disappearing between his smirking lips.
Hermione stood in the doorway of the kitchens, not knowing whether to be furious over his pompous, overbearing attitude, or just take his advice, forget about the pie, and go to bed. She stared as his elegant hand, with its long tapered fingers, separated another chunk and realized that there was enough pie there to serve three people.
"I could," she conceded lightly. "Or you could share."
The forked dropped, the book was snapped shut and that beautiful blonde head swung in her direction again. He arched an elegant pale eyebrow at her, but she swallowed and stood her ground.
"No," he said simply, staring her down now.
Hermione resisted the urge to shiver at his quelling gaze.
"Such a gentleman," she said with mocking sweetness, taking those last few steps into the kitchen and sitting down in the chair opposite him.
"When it counts," he gritted out, "but this is my pie, and I have no intention of sharing it."
"Scared?" she asked, adopting his familiar smirk.
"Of what? Catching your germs?" he scoffed, picking up the fork again and taking a deliberate bite, closing his eyes to savour the taste.
"No, of what people might think if you were nice to me," she replied, watching his tongue poke out to taste the residual sweetness on his lips. She found herself licking her own in response and flushed the moment she became aware of the action.
"Nobody would believe you if I was," he replied after a moment, his stormy grey eyes opening lazily to survey her.
"Probably not, but who's to say I would go around bragging about it? I just want some pie."
"Well it's mine and you can't have it," he stated with a pout.
"Mature as always, Malfoy." she sneered, folding her arms across her chest.
"Maturity has nothing to do with it. What is mine is mine. That will never change."
"It's a piece of pie!" she cried, throwing up her hands.
Draco smirked, clearly enjoying her flustered state and popped another forkful in his mouth, letting out an exaggerated moan as he chewed happily.
"You could beg me you know," he teased when he finally swallowed.
Hermione pursed her lips and clenched her teeth, hating that he had the upper hand.
"I don't think so."
"Aw, come on. It's easy. Just say 'Please Malfoy, I'm begging you..." He stopped mid sentence and laughed when she turned bright red.
"You're such a prat," she growled seconds before she reached across the table, snatched the fork right out of his hand, and stole a bite of pie.
"Why you..." he cried when she sat back in her seat, munching happily on the cherry goodness.
"See, was that so hard?" she asked, reaching forward again to take another forkful. Malfoy's hand shot out to grip her wrist roughly before she could even reached the plate.
"Let me go," she told him, tugging on her wrist to no avail.
"I said no," he said quietly, the fork dropping to the table with a clatter.
"And I said please. So what?" she asked, tugging again.
"Now who is being childish?" he asked, his fingers flexing around her wrist.
Hermione was the first to break the tense staring contest between them, looking down at his pale fingers on her tanned wrist. Between them sat the half eaten pie.
A wicked grin spread across her features, making him frown, but his grip did not slacken. Before he could guess her intentions, her other hand shot out and she used her fingers to grab a chunk of the cherry-filled pastry.
Draco watched in horror as she bought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean one by one. Hermione let out a satisfied moan as she sucked each finger, swirling her tongue greedily around her digits. She smirked, thoroughly enjoying herself as Draco's mouth fell open and his cheeks bloomed pink. She was just running her tongue between her thumb and finger when his other hand came up to grip that wrist too, pulling it away from her mouth.
The satisfied grin she had been sporting faded when she caught the heated look in his eyes. She paused in the process of licking the crumbs from her lips as he suddenly pulled on her wrists hard – hard enough to force her halfway across the table – his face crashing into hers as his mouth sought her own in a desperate, fiery kiss.
Hermione had never been more shocked in her life. Malfoy was kissing her – the Draco Malfoy was actually kissing her.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat as her brain shut down and she gave in to the desperate kiss. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed to continue on.
His fingers still gripped her wrists as he deepened the contact, she vaguely observed that he had the softest lips she had ever felt on hers, his breath smelt like pie and his silky hair brushed against her forehead when his face slanted against hers, trying to find a better angle.
She whimpered as the onslaught continued and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth, letting out a groan when he tasted cherries. Hermione was confused, her heart pounding wildly, and she realized with some shock that she was extremely aroused by the things Malfoy was doing to her. Never before had a kiss felt so right.
Draco moved around the table and her brain seemed to forget about analyzing the situation. It didn't matter that she was suppose to hate him, that his family had tried to kill her, or that he had been her rival in almost everything since they had started at Hogwarts. All that mattered to her was that he never stop the delicious torture his lips were performing upon hers.
His kiss was still desperate, as if he couldn't stop, couldn't get enough of her taste and feel. She brought her bound wrists up to his chest, slowly rising from the chair – kissing him back with equal fervour – letting him straighten out a bit. He was tall – so much taller up close – and he was much leaner than she had expected. The hard lines of his body pressed intimately against her when she stood and the feel of him moulding to her curves was making her a little dizzy. He seemed to be lost in the same hormonal cloud she was, and she wondered why their heated banter had never resulted in this reaction before.
Probably because they had never really been alone before.
She moaned when he let go of her wrists, his fingers coming up to skim along her biceps, all the way to her collared neckline. She shivered when he touched the sensitive skin and gripped his school shirt tightly in her sticky fingers when he began to slowly undo each of her buttons.
Draco pulled back from her mouth, his breath coming in short pants as he slowly parted her shirt. She released her grip on his own clothing and let him peel the fabric down her arms, his lips on her neck, causing nerve endings to set off everywhere.
Hermione gasped when he pulled one cotton bra cup down, his mouth searching, his tongue wrapping around one taut nipple with the same desperation he had exerted when kissing her. She let her head tip back, her hands moving up to grasp tufts of his fine hair.
Draco took advantage of her momentary lapse of control, running his hands down the flat planes of her stomach to hitch her skirt around her waist, gripping the backs of her thighs. She moaned as his hands caressed her body, thrusting her chest out further, encouraging him silently.
He smirked and pulled back from her chest, making his way back up with renewed urgency, taking her lips and plunging his tongue back into the hot wet cavern of her mouth. He applied enough pressure to the backs of her legs to let her know what he wanted. Hermione needed no further urging as she practically jumped in to his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Backing them into the nearest wall, he ravished her mouth as he began to slowly grind his hardness against her softness. Hermione cried out gently, feeling dizzy and flushed and wanting him to do things to her she had never imagined him capable of doing. Draco gripped her hip with one hand, his fingers digging in enough to leave a bruise, and used his hips to pin her to the wall as he reached between them.
Hermione continued to kiss him back enthusiastically, feeling the backs of his fingers brush against her dampening core as he released his own arousal from the confines of his neatly pressed pants. She gasped against his lips, panting heavily now as he turned his attention to where she needed it most, pulling the fabric of her cotton underwear to the side, seeking her scalding heat and testing her readiness.
She was more than ready for him. Her body was flushed, her chest was heaving, and she felt that if he didn't touch her soon she would likely pass out. In her limited experience she would never have guessed it could be like this, and he had barely touched her. Yet, even now as he pressed against her intimately, she knew that this is what sex was supposed to feel like – stimulating, exciting and addictive.
Draco let out a half tortured groan moments before he pressed forward and plunged into her welcoming softness. There was a slight resistance at first - her body tight from little use - but it wasn't long before his insistent body had hers yielding. He pulled back and plunged in to her relentlessly, taking everything and demanding everything in return.
Hermione had little option but to hold on tight and go along for the ride, feeling the smooth flexing of his Quidditch-honed muscles, the hot puffs of breath in her wild curls and his throbbing member claiming her as his own, just as he had done with the piece of forgotten pie. She let him take her to new heights, feeling her inners walls clenching tightly, hearing his sharp intake of breath as her body tensed and came apart around him.
Draco had never felt anything so good in his life. The witch wrapped herself tightly around him, her whole body seemed to convulse and shudder as she found her release. That was all he needed to reach climax, pressing her into the hard wall as he claimed her mouth once more, crying out as he pumped his hips wildly in to her shivering body.
When it was over he released his death grip on her thighs, his limp body pressing hers in to the stone cold wall, their harsh breathing the only sounds in the empty kitchen. He felt her stir beneath him, her hands running up and down his chest as she seemed to realize just what she had done, and with whom. He straightened up, smirking as he looked down at the dishevelled Gryffindor, feeling inordinately pleased to find her speechless.
It was a rare occasion indeed.
Fixing his clothes with cool efficiency, he pulled even further away and turned back to the table where the half-eaten and partially destroyed pie stood as a silent witness to the night's debauchery. He sat down calmly, picked up the fork and separated the destroyed side from the good side, pushing both pieces apart.
Hermione seemed to regain some of her wits, using the wall as support while she adjusted her own clothing and attempted to fix her hair. She watched him warily as he pulled out his wand and summoned a second fork to the table, silently placing it where she had been sitting earlier.
Still unsure what to make of the last ten minutes, she cautiously approached the table and sat down. Draco began eating, flicking his book back to the page he had been on and pretending as if she wasn't sitting across from him, staring as if he had grown a second head.
"Eat, or it'll go to waste," he instructed after a few moments, not even bothering to look up.
Hermione frowned, but still picked up her fork. It was after the first delicious mouthful that she finally found her voice.
"Malf- I mean Draco..." she started quietly, but he interrupted her.
"I hear they are serving blueberry pie on Tuesday night," he said conversationally.
Hermione flushed, her eyes almost bugging out of her head in disbelief.
"Blueberry is nice," she replied uncertainly.
"I agree, not as good as cherry, but close. Anyway, I believe I shall pop in here after my rounds to see if there is any left over," he said, glancing up at her.
Hermione was shocked to find that instead of his usual smirk, he was smiling at her.
She was even more shocked to find herself smiling back.
Thanks for reading!