Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not my world. K. Thanx. Bai.

What's Your Fantasy?



"Honey Butterbeer!" The barman slammed a frosted bottle on the countertop.

The waitress, already balancing two regular butterbeers and a basket of chips, grabbed the drink and added it to her tray. She shimmied and sashayed through the gauntlet of chairs and outstretched feet to a booth of three witches.

She loved their table. They were frequent guests, coming in every Friday and once or twice during the week and they were always nice to her. Most importantly, they were excellent tippers.

"All right, ladies?" The waitress passed out the drinks and put the basket of chips in the centre of the table. "Where are the rest of you?"

"Oh, they all went to help George close down the shop," the red haired one, Ginny Weasley, said. "They probably won't be round here tonight; they're listening to the Magpie Magic play the Chudley Canons on the wireless and Ron's got money on it."

The waitress knew the shop to be Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, the joke shop at the end of the road. 'They', in this case, were Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

"Oh, well, I hope he wins big."

"Not bloody likely," Ginny said. "The Canons haven't won a game in three seasons.

The waitress smiled. She didn't follow Quidditch, so she would have to take Ginny's word for it. "That's too bad—enjoy your drinks!"

The three witches didn't speak until the woman was out of earshot. Then Ginny said, "I don't think I've ever seen such a huge arse in such small trousers."

"Ginny!" Hermione admonished, her eyes round as saucers. Two tables over, the waitress pulled a quill from her ear and took another order, but didn't seem to hear Ginny's comment.

"Well, it is."

Luna Lovegood, the third witch at the table, laughed.

"Still," Hermione said, "she could have heard you." Ginny shrugged and dipped a chip in the Worcestershire sauce. Hermione shook her head. There were times when the differences between Ginny and her brothers were hard to tell.

"Anyway," said Hermione, getting back to their conversation. "What do you think of Ron's new girlfriend? I think she's nice."

Luna tucked her pale blond hair behind one ear and seemed to really give it thought. Ginny did not.

She swallowed and then said, "Oh, don't get me started. Her arse could have its own village."

Hermione's eyes widened, though she couldn't deny Ginny's statement. Ron's newest interest was on the fleshy side.

"I sort of think Ron likes a nice, round rump," said Luna.

Hermione crinkled her nose. "Is that why the two of us didn't work out? My arse isn't round enough?"

"'Round rump'? You make her sound like pot roast," Ginny said.

The three of them were quiet for several seconds, and then burst into giggles. The laughter carried on until Ginny spoke again.

"Okay, okay." She lowered her voice. "I have a serious question … and don't laugh."

"Well now that you've made the request…."

"Forget it, I can't."

"Oh come on, I was only having a go at you," said Hermione. "I give you my word that I will not laugh." She managed to keep a straight face while Ginny eyed her sceptically. Ginny then turned to Luna.

"You know I won't laugh."

Ginny took a deep breath and Hermione thought she was being rather dramatic--very uncharacteristic behaviour. "Okay," she started. "Have you—I mean, do you ever have any fantasies?"

Hermione blinked. "What? You mean like—"

Ginny's face blushed a shade of crimson that clashed horridly with her hair. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "I mean, sexual fantasies."

Hermione nearly coughed up. The three of them were good friends and often discussed relationships … but some things, they kept to themselves. This probably should have been one of them.

"Oh, yes," said Luna. "Neville likes for me to cook in the nude."

Hermione swallowed. "Erm, that sounds more like a fetish—a dangerous one."

Luna looked thoughtful. "Hm, I suppose you're right."

Hermione didn't know if she had been right that it was a fetish or dangerous—most likely, both. Either way, she shook her head, trying to clear the image of Neville and Luna from her mind. "Right. Gin, what are you talking about?"

Ginny ducked her head inside her hands. "Oh God," her muffled voice said. "I shouldn't have even brought it up."

"Well, now you have, so out with it."

Ginny took another deep breath. "The other night, Harry and I were … you know …."

"I wish I didn't," Hermione said, not wanting to think of her oldest friend in that way. "But go on."

"Well Harry was … going at it and he asked me to say dirty things to him. Right there! In the middle of sex!"

Hermione waited for the punch line while Luna smiled. "Well, that's appropriate. Did you do it?" Luna asked and daintily ate one chip.

Some of Ginny's colour came back. "Well, sure. But it was awkward at first because I had no idea what he wanted me to say. We had never done anything like that before … then when I said his—"

"Hold it right there. We don't need to know what you said," Hermione interjected. Girl talk was one thing, but sharing private talk between lovers was another. Hermione was fiercely private and discreet when it came to her sex life. It was only natural that she preferred her friends to be same way. Of course, being around the Weasley's, Hermione knew that privacy was a rare gem.

"What? I only said—."

"No. Nobody wants to hear what you and Harry yell out during sex."

"I do," said Luna.

Hermione made a face. "Well you two can swap stories later."

"Oh come on Hermione, stop being such a prude and …" Ginny's voice trailed off and a look of regret came over her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Heat spread over every inch of Hermione's skin. Ginny was the only other person who knew how much those words bothered her. She forced a smile and outwardly tried to give no other sign that the comment had stung as much as it had.

All of her friends secretly thought she was a prude, Hermione knew it for a fact. Seamus had even started to call her The Professor, as in Professor McGonagall, ever since she had once refused to play a stupid game of 'truth or dare?' What? Just because she wasn't a sexual deviant made her a prude? And if she were a deviant, because she didn't shout it from the roof tops, was that prudish as well?

Hermione blinked her thoughts away and smiled. "You're right Ginny. I'm being awfully square. Go on with your story."

Ginny studied her in the way that Harry often did when he didn't believe a word she'd uttered. Ginny had probably picked it up from him. "I'm sorry," Ginny said, looking worried. "I really didn't mean it."

Luna swallowed more chips and wiped her fingers with a napkin. "Sometimes, the truth hurts more than a lie, you know."

Hermione glared at Luna then back to Ginny. "It's fine," she said through clenched teeth. "Just—tell your story."

"Hermione I—"

"Just … tell us, Ginny."

Ginny stared for the space of a heart beat, then dove back into her tale.

"Well, I won't say what I told him—but let's just say the effect was toe-curling. Anyway, I asked him why he wanted me to say dirty things to him. He got completely embarrassed, you know Harry, and finally said he sometimes imagines I'm saying those things to him during sex." She grinned devilishly. "I rather like the idea…."

"Hm," Luna said thoughtfully.



"Anyway," Ginny said. "He said, 'sometimes I imagine that you've got me tied up and you're saying all kinds of naughty things.'"

"Hm," Luna said again.

"Will you stop doing that?"

"Well, that makes sense." She said nonchalantly, picked up another chip and popped it into her mouth.

Hermione made a disgusted noise. She couldn't bare the thought of actually eating while images of a naked, bonded Harry floated around in her mind.

"What are you on about, Lovegood?" Ginny asked. She flung her long hair over one shoulder and faced Luna.

"Oh, just that it makes sense for Harry to be a little submissive." She paused and smiled at the blank looks on her friends faces. "You know, he's always been the hero, the one in charge … The One. So it makes sense that he'd want to be submissive during sex. You know, for balance."

Ginny looked thoughtful while Hermione looked worried for her friend's sanity. "Right,' she said. "If you say so."

"No, no it does make sense," said Ginny.

"Don't tell me you believe that--?" Hermione asked, she had almost said drivel.

"Come on, Hermione, don't tell us you've never had a sexual fantasy?" Her honey eyes sparkled. "Something you'd never ever imagine yourself doing but you always wanted to?"

"I have," Luna said. "My number one fantasy is where I'm on a field mission in the Amazon and the Rain Prince takes me on the edge of a cliff under a waterfall." She daydreamed. "I've even made Neville the Rain Prince loincloth, but he won't wear it. Says he doesn't feel right climbing rocks with his dangly bits exposed."

Hermione was speechless, and Ginny laughed. "See, Hermione," she said, "everyone has them. I've always wanted Harry to dress as a famous Quidditch player and make love to me in the showers when he's all gritty after a hard practice. Without the glasses."

"That's not a fantasy Ginny. Harry is a famous Quidditch player and that's actually how you lost your virginity," Hermione pointed out. "Be more creative."

"I suppose you're right—but I love Harry in uniform!"

Hermione couldn't help but to laugh at her friend's enthusiasm. "Too much information."

All three women laughed. The pub had become even more crowded as they sat there, but they were so deeply immersed in the strange but interesting conversation, that they hardly noticed anything going on around them.

"So, Hermione …" Ginny said.

"So what?"

"Tell us your fantasy," Luna said.


"Oh for Merlin's sake, tell us. We know you have them…yours is probably the kinkiest of them all," Ginny said with a wicked grin. "Let me guess, you want to do it in the stacks."

Hermione cringed. "The library? That's ridiculous."

"Alright, no Naughty Bookworm then. What about this Mystery Man you're seeing? What kinds of fantasies do you have about him?"

Hermione took a sip of her honey butterbeer and primly dabbed her lips with a napkin. "I don't know who you are referring to, Ginerva."

"Like hell!" Ginny exclaimed. "You have been seeing this bloke for months now—when are you going to let us meet him?"

Hermione scoffed. "If I'm lucky, then never. We'll go on dating for all eternity without me ever having to throw him to the wolves. The wolves in this case would be my friends."

Actually, Hermione longed to be able to go out in public with her friend. She wanted nothing more than for everyone to sit down for Saturday morning brunch without any awkwardness. She was just waiting for the right time; whenever that happened to be.

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "I will have to discuss it with him, but I won't make any promises. And if this happens you mustn't bombard him with awkward questions."

Luna smiled. "Deal."

Ginny didn't look satisfied. "Why are you treating him like a dirty little secret anyway?"

"You can't make me feel guilty about this, Ginny. We're just not ready to go public, alright?"

"What is it? Is he a fat bloke? Is he unnaturally short, ugly?"

"Is his you-know-what crooked?" Luna added innocently.

Hermione made a face. "None of the above, and please don't refer to his you-know-what."

Ginny laughed. "Fine, but you still have to tell us your number one fantasy."

"Oh God," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "We're back to this?"

"We never left it—you just tried to distract us with your Mystery Man talk," Ginny said.

"You're the one that brought him up!"

"You're doing it again…."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. There was no way to win a verbal spar with Ginny Weasley. It was best to concede early and save oneself the trouble. Hermione thought hard. What was her number one fantasy?

Immediately, images popped into her head and she felt her cheeks flush with excitement. The element of surprise mixed with fear and lust was a heady combination. Oh no. She couldn't tell it. It was too … risqué.

"You've thought of it, I can tell," Ginny said, her energy entirely too eager for Hermione's liking.

"Tell us, Hermione. Our word that it will stay with the three of us," Luna added.

"Please," Ginny said, "Our word."

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Hermione lowered her voice and looked around. She was surprised to see so many people in the pub. But, for all of their excited whispering, no one spared the three of them a glance. She turned back to her two friends.

"Fine, my number one fantasy is to make love to a familiar stranger," she said in a rush. Her face was burned with embarrassment and she hoped that at any moment, the earth would open and swallow her whole.

Both Ginny and Luna looked Confunded. It wasn't often that one could confuse Luna. She had a cosmic, philosophical way of thinking that often left everyone around her scratching their brows.

"You have got to explain that one," Ginny said.

Hermione pondered a different way to phrase it. If she said it too plainly, they would think she'd gone mad. She spoke carefully. "I fantasise that a strange man would breach my wards or break a window and force me to make love to him. But, there's something oddly familiar about this man—I know him. And eventually, I surrender to him."

Hermione's heart thundered while her two friends worked it out. It was Luna that said it first.

"You want to be raped?"

"Keep your voice down," Hermione said. "And no. Did you hear me? I said I surrender…you cannot rape the willing"

"Wow," Ginny said, "I knew yours would be the kinkiest. It's always the bookish ones."

Hermione cringed. "Can we please just change the subject? And not a word of this to anyone—Ginny!"

"What? Why me?"

"Because I can already tell you're itching to tell Harry. Well, if I know Harry, he won't appreciate hearing my sexual fantasies. So, please keep it quiet."

Suddenly, the three girls heard a chorus of masculine laughter coming from the booth directly behind Hermione. She froze. Had they heard her confession? Were they laughing at her? Hermione was about to ask Ginny if she could see who it was when her worst nightmare came true.

Draco Malfoy stood up from the booth with an empty pitcher in his hand. He walked right past their table without so much as a glance, but Hermione knew better. He'd heard every word, of that, she was certain.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

"What is it?" Luna asked.

"Malfoy, he heard."

"What?" asked Ginny, "How do you know that?" She turned in her seat to get a look at Malfoy at the bar.

"Shush! Sit down!" Hermione said. She sunk further down into the booth. Having Malfoy hear what her number one fantasy was seemed worse than anything she'd ever experienced…that included being tortured by his crazed Aunt Bellatrix.

Malfoy walked by their table again, this time with a full pitcher of ale and a basket of chips. He didn't spare them a glance.

Ginny whispered, "He doesn't know anything."

"Of course he does," Hermione hissed. "Why do you think he's ignoring us? He's trying entirely too hard!" She hid her face in her hands. "I've got to get out of here."

Ginny and Luna stared at Hermione as she frantically dug into her bag for money. She threw four sickles onto the table and slid from the booth.

"Hermione, you're overreacting. No one was even paying us any attention."

Hermione ignored Ginny, because she knew better. As she made a hasty break for the exit, Hermione was convinced this would go down as the most humiliating night of her life.


The little house was in a village even further south than the burrow. It perched on a hilltop where the next neighbour was over a mile away. The distance didn't matter when it came to methods of travel for Hermione. However, when it came to quiet, privacy and seclusion—it made all the difference.

By the time Hermione finally made it home, she had worked out in her head a good story to explain away her "fantasy". She would just tell them she made the whole thing up; they would laugh and forget it. And as for Malfoy, well, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it seemed more likely that he hadn't heard a thing. She and her friends had been whispering in a very crowded pub. Ginny was right, she had just been overreacting.

Hermione cleaned herself up, and opened her bedroom window. It was a warm, muggy night, the kind that made you kick the covers aside and let the night air be your blanket. The breeze would feel good. She crawled into bed and burrowed her face in the pillow.

A faint whiff of his cologne and natural scent filled her senses. Briefly, Hermione entertained the idea of letting her friends meet her "Mystery Man". She smiled at that as she drifted off to sleep feeling better than she had just one hour ago.


Hermione woke up, sweaty and alarmed.

She sat up in the darkness, listening and staring into the shadows cast by the shaft of moonlight shining through the window. Everything was still and silent, as if the time had briefly slowed everything down to this moment. There wasn't even much of a breeze coming in. Finally, when she had chalked the feeling up to a bad dream, Hermione kicked the covers aside and turned to lie down again.

Suddenly, a strong pair of hands flipped her onto her stomach and tried to pin her. She screamed and bucked violently. The figure was thrown off and fell into the bedside table, causing everything on the surface to pitch onto the floor—including her wand.

There was no time to think, no time to find her wand, no time to even see who her attacker was. She scrambled as quickly as possible to the edge of the bed, her only thought screaming to get as far as possible from this person.

"Wait," the attacker said. He lunged and caught her ankle and pulled her back to the centre of the bed.

"No!" She screamed and yelled and fought but it was not enough.

He ignored her and pinned her again, this time holding her down with his weight. Hermione pushed and pushed against him but, he was gripping both wrists above her head and there was no way she could get enough leverage to throw him off again.

She was trapped.

He mumbled a spell and she felt both arms being pulled in opposite directions and bound to the bed posts. Finally, when she was secure, he relaxed his grip and eased his weight. He panted heavily in her ear.

Terror stole through her body from head to toe as she realised what this man was about to do. She was miles from anyone. He could rape her and probably kill her and it would be hours before anyone found her dead, violated body.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her throat was sore and voice weak.

He didn't reply, and she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, and gripped a handful of her hair. He forced her cheek into the mattress and leaned into her ear. "No peeking, love."

His breath smelled of ale and peppermint. She tried again to turn her head but he firmly pressed her head into the mattress and all she could see were her pale yellow sheets and his shadow across them.

He kept one hand fisted in her hair, not painfully, but with just enough pressure that she couldn't lift her head. With the other hand he trailed a soft hand along Hermione's hip and back up her thigh. Tears sprung to her eyes and she couldn't believe she found herself in this situation. She couldn't understand why.

She felt his hand continue up her thigh, shaping her bottom and Hermione jumped in surprise. She clenched her thighs tightly, her muscles quivered with the effort.

"Why are you doing this?" she said. A sob escaped her mouth.

The hand on her bottom froze and the other released her head. The sudden loss of his grip was dizzying. His body weight lifted as he sat back on his heels.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Hermione took his sudden withdrawal as an opportunity to crane her neck over her shoulder. The soft light of the stars shone white in his hair and as he shifted, the shadows outlined his distinct jaw.

"Malfoy?" she asked, straining against the bonds. "Untie me right now!"

"I thought you wanted this?"

"What? Why on earth would I want to be attacked in the middle of the night?" And suddenly, Hermione had an awful thought. He had heard. Draco had overheard her humiliating confession at the pub. There was never a time she wished more for a Time Turner or better, to never have been born at all. "Oh no."

"Hermione …"

"Oh no. You must think I'm some sort of freak. Untie me, please."

Draco brushed his knuckles across her exposed upper thigh. "You're not a freak, Granger. Not because of this, anyway." He brushed her thigh again, this time sending shivers tingling down to her toes.

Hermione ducked her head into the mattress. Waves of fear, relief, and an awakening arousal crashed in her gut. Now that he had not been utterly repulsed, she didn't quite know what to make of him. Should she be upset with him? Thankful? Whatever the emotion, she was almost certain arousal shouldn't be it.

Yet, she was unable to stop the goose pimples on her flesh when he ran his palm along her inner thigh.

"Why did you never mention this before?" Draco asked quietly. "This fantasy of yours?" As he talked, his hands were busy caressing the sensitive skin at the crease of her hip. He trailed a finger along the line of her knickers, toying with them before quickly dipping his fingers just inside to stroke her outer lips.

Hermione vacillated between anger and arousal. She squeezed her thighs shut, and Draco's finger pulled away and trailed down her thigh. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You didn't answer my question."

Hermione bit her lip and then said, "I don't have to answer your questions. Now, untie me."

Draco laughed and the warm breath, ale and peppermint, now made sense. He had followed her straight from the pub. She wondered just how much he had heard. Everything?

"I can't do that." He said, huskily.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're still angry, and frankly, I'm afraid you'll hex my bollocks off the moment I release you."

Hermione scoffed. "You broke into my home and attacked me in the night. I'd be well within my rights!"

"See? And that is the very reason why I can't release you. Not yet." He planted one kiss on her bared shoulder and then sat back on his heels again.

Hermione heard the clanging of metal and looked over her shoulder again. She couldn't see very clearly in the dark but after a moment, his shirt and trousers landed on the floor in a pile.

"What do you think you are doing?" Even though it was quite obvious as to what he was doing, Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking. In spite of herself, Hermione felt a thrill of arousal clench in her gut.

Draco rested his hands on her calves and slowly spread them apart. As he spoke, he began to glide his hands along the contours of her body; the backs of her knees, the tops of her thighs, lower back. His grip was gentle but firm enough to overpower Hermione's effort to resist.

"I was hoping I could make you forget all about our little misunderstanding," he whispered.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out in surprise when Draco swiftly pulled her knickers over the swell of her buttocks, and then off. In this position, she felt completely exposed to him. Strong hands gripped the meat of her buttock and firmly squeezed. He quickly slipped a finger into her ridge to tease her until she felt the tingle of arousal throughout her body. He dipped his thumb inside, and curled it to scrape along that spot and moved inside her until she began to gasp—her only acknowledgement of his touch.

His fingers moved quickly and with the sole purpose of causing Hermione to forget her anger and give herself over to sensations, to sex. Hermione didn't make a sound but her body thrummed. Her hips began to move in tiny undulations against his hand. And much more quickly than he would have imagined, Hermione quivered around his fingers, the only sound was the breath going out of her as she came.

Hermione lay on the bed, spent and still angry. "Untie me," she said between pants.

"We aren't finished yet, Granger." Draco trailed the hand that had just brought her, along her thigh. "You're smell is intoxicating," he whispered, his tone deep enough to make Hemrione turn in time to see him lift two fingers to his mouth. He looked her squarely in the eye. Even in the scarce lighting, Hermione saw the intimate look of pure passion and lust in them.

Draco nudged her knees further apart and settled himself between them. He curled his body over her until she felt the erection settle against her bum.

"Hermione," he said, right next to her ear. "Do not be angry with me, love. I'm happy that I overheard your conversation because you would have never told me otherwise. This opens up so many possibilities for us." He laughed and the breathy action moved her hair and exposed her neck to him. He suckled that bit of creamy skin until the blood flowed beneath the surface.

Draco moved his hips and Hermione jumped as the tip of him touched her bare centre. He moved so that the thickness of him slid against her wetness. And then, he thrust forward, just a tiny motion and the head of him popped inside.

It was too much, and in a last ditch effort to defy her arousal, Hermione whispered, "Untie me, Malfoy. Please…don't."

"I untied you ages ago." And he had. Hermione moved her hands beneath her, embarrassed that she had not realized it earlier.

Her embarrassment was quickly forgotten as Draco dropped his hips so that his length slid deep inside, and they were one. Draco's grunted and Hermione lifted one knee out, surrendering to him and the way he made her feel. He drew himself out, and she lifted her hips, clinging to the tip of his erection before he thrust forward again and she met it with a low moan. He repeated, and each time Hermione drew herself higher and higher on her knees until she had completely opened herself to him.

Draco gripped her hips, digging his fingers in and plunged into her with long, hungry strokes. From this angle he easily reached that spot within her that was now the centre of her world. She, Draco, and that bit of him buried deep inside was all that mattered.

He curled his hand around her hip and began fingering and stroking her. Her hair, her whole body vibrated with each thrust as they moved faster and faster in the night. All that could be heard was the wet, rhythmic sound of their love-making. Gradually, Hermione's arms grew weak and she dropped her head back to the mattress, her arse still in the air.

She was trembling and bucking against him—trying to hold composure until she said in a broken, hoarse whisper, "Draco, I'm coming."

The damn broke. Her whole body contracted and she jerked and writhed and pulled at her pale yellow sheets. It seemed she felt every vein in his erection as she gripped him. Draco painfully dug his fingers into her hip. "God, Hermione."

The pair fell to the bed, boneless and breathless. Hermione turned to her lover, the first time she faced him all night. Immediately, almost reflexively, her hand brushed a lock of silken blond hair from his forehead and she stared into his pale grey eyes. She was almost embarrassed by how easily entranced she became by his looks alone. He gazed back into her face and stroked his thumb across her cheek.

"I heard one other thing tonight," he confessed.

Hermione eyed him warily, for with him, there was no telling. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

He smiled, that wicked, handsome smile and kissed her mouth gently. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. "Your friends want to meet me."

"My friends already know you quite well, I'm afraid."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

"My friends don't want to meet you they want to meet the Mystery Man."

"We're one and the same, Granger." he said, and a tiny frown appeared over his brow.

"No, I meant, they want to meet this guy that they have conjured up from their imaginations. I'm fairly certain they aren't expecting it to be you."

"I'm sure they can handle it."

Hermione propped herself up on one elbow. She searched his face for silent cues that might give him away. "Are you saying you want to meet them?"

Draco mirrored her movement. "Do you want me to meet them?"

Hermione's heart thudded because the answer was yes. She nervously chewed her lip and his face remained impassive as he awaited the answer. It took her two tries to say, "Yes."

"I will if you fulfill a tiny little fantasy of mine."

"What?" she asked, incredulous

He smirked and Hermione knew it meant trouble. "That little Naughty Bookworm bit."


AN: Hello. Random one-shot idea that came to me. Seemed like an interesting idea. Wrote it after 2 am, it's not beta-read or anything. Sooo, please forgive me if it doesn't make sense or there are typos. Thanks for reading! Hope you like it!! Please review!