This was my pinch-hit for the 2013 Otter & Ferret Fic Exchange (otterandferret . dreamwidth . org) entry. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. This fanfic is a one-shot. Here was the prompt I worked from:

Prompts: Hermione studies Women's Studies; Draco, English Literature. Sparks fly; Likes: A happy or at least hopeful ending, but I'm not averse to angst in the story. EWE fic. A story set after the war. University fic. Sex God!Draco; Dislikes: breathplay, kink involving urine, feces, etc., or humiliation. Voldemort wins AUs. Extremely dysfunctional relationships.

Thank you to my beta, LS! Thank you to the Mod for putting on this fest. I really had fun trying something new and was challenged by the prompt!

Please review!

DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Post-Hogwarts, EWE (year: 2003).

MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy

SUMMARY: For two years, they've been friends at University, taking the same curriculum. For the last year, he's been in love with her in secret. For almost half of that time, they've been fuck buddies of the amazing kind... but only after he lights her fuse and gets her blood roaring. Oh, what fun Draco Malfoy has riling Hermione Granger up!


WARNINGS: Explicit heterosexual sex; Explicit profanity; Characters a little OOC for the sake of this plot

Notes: I listened to the fabulous song, "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol while writing this story.






Material along which a small flame moves to explode a bomb or firework.


Being an unrepentant shit disturber was one of Draco Malfoy's best attributes.

As socially important as his impeccable fashion sense, his ability to out-smirk anyone, and his sexy physique, the talent to positively annoy others had been, he was sure, hereditarily coded into him upon conception. It was the one thing he positively excelled at without fail in his life, and was the easiest thing in the world for him to fall back upon when facing tough social opposition. The best defence was, he'd always believed, behaving offensively.

Therefore, he'd made it his life's priority to, at least once a day disrupt someone's good mood with a completely random, totally awful comment.

For shites and giggles, Draco often practiced this God-given talent on the irritating and the dim – read: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Sometimes though, behaving in such a manner provided him an even better opportunity than egging on the Dunce Cap Duo – one he'd found himself craving more and more of each time it succeeded: to enjoy a little angry sex with Hermione Granger.

The woman was a lioness in bed. Well, actually, against walls and on top of desks and over sofas and in chairs (he hadn't actually had her in a bed, yet). She clawed, she bit, she sucked, she squeezed, and she was openly, unapologetically loud when she orgasmed (who'd have guessed the Bookworm was a screamer?). Having her come apart all over and around him was magnificent. The best sex of his life, actually-

-which explained why he tried to provoke a repeat as much as possible. Like now, as they sat across from each other in silence, studying for tomorrow's English Lit exam.

As anyone smitten by Hermione Granger could testify, however, she was not an easy woman to fancy. A man had to fight for the right to possess her in any manner, especially in a manner that was guaranteed to make her give up her tightly-held control.

After two years of friendship, one year of unrequited love, and five months of an occasional "with benefits" arrangement between them to pace the way, though, Draco now knew a closely guarded secret about her – one that guaranteed him an 'in' with her every time: in the hidden vaults of Hermione's heart, she wasn't willing to submit to any lover unless he was willing to submit to her as well. She didn't believe in one-sided feelings, and refused to let a man get away with being emotionally distant while she gave him her all.

That was just fine by Draco. He'd already jumped the sanity rail the day they'd shaken hands and agreed to give things a clean slate soon after realizing they were taking the same curriculum here at Uni. Then he'd had his mind blown the first time they'd fucked. He figured he might as go all in and reap the full benefits of his inconvenient (but not unwelcome) feelings for Granger.

Which brought him to the present…

He'd just spent the last half-hour licking his lips and playing with his long bangs, two things he knew Granger enjoyed watching. Tragically, she wasn't biting this time, though, too engrossed in her studies to give more than a cursory glance his way.

Right, then, he'd just try a little harder.

With blatant lust, he stared at the amazing cleavage shot she was unintentionally providing him, hoping to get her attention that way instead. The attractive, green (his favourite colour on her) dress-shirt with the top three buttons undone was a gift from him last Christmas, and she wore it like a pro. However, right then, he wanted nothing more than to rip the bloody thing apart, watch the buttons fly, and have her pull his face right into her breasts in a silent plea to take things all the way between them once again.

After ten minutes, he gave up the leering when it was clear she was oblivious. Her books had her captivated once more.

Well, he'd just have to pull out the big guns then…

Sticking the right approach on the first try was the key to properly seducing Hermione. Draco knew all he had to do was to start an argument over a subjects she was particularly impassioned about -the rights of the subaltern, revisionist history, the law and power-grabbing by the elite, and the very sensitive topic of gender roles in society- and he could unravel her like poorly–wrapped gauze.

The trick was in correctly estimating just how much to push right out the gate, though. Too little, and her interest would quickly fizzle as she turned to more stimulating things to occupy her mind (like reading). Too much, and her fury would completely override her libido's call (and put him on the receiving end of one of her nastier hexes).

Fortunately, Draco had been born for such a challenge. He was, as mentioned previously, aces at stirring up trouble…

"I've decided 'Taming of the Shrew' is my favourite of Shakespeare's stories. Petruchio is a Slytherin sex god. I worship him."

As expected, Hermione's glance flickered to him over the top of her book. Her brow furrowed in the beginning stages of annoyance – first because he'd interrupted her reading, and second with such a ridiculous statement, said out of the blue.

"Do you want me to assure you can't produce an heir, Malfoy? I can do it, you know."

Draco fought off the triumphant smirk that desperately attempted to tackle his lips, and focussed on maintaining a bland expression. Appearances were everything in this game, and one tiny wrinkle at the corner of his mouth could blow the whole thing.

Keeping his tone as sincere as possible, he pushed a little harder. "I further believe I'd relish the opportunity to train my own version of a Katherina. To bring a stubborn, unpleasant harpy to heel and to teach her that obedience to her husband is the most important attribute in a marriage would be a magnificent triumph!"


A muscle in Hermione's cheek twitched.

"Are you having a Tourette's moment," she growled, "or is this one of your bizarre flashbacks to Pureblood Primary again?"

Damn, the woman was a spitfire… and didn't that just turn him on all the more! Clearly, he'd have to try harder to crack her nut, though, as she seemed determined to hold onto her control.

"Barefoot and pregnant is a good look for your gender."


Her eyes narrowed in warning.

"Keep it up and I'll Conjunctivitis Curse you somewhere sensitive."

He ignored the threat entirely. "Did you know I'm planning on running for Minister on the platform that all women be required by law to wear a collar with their man's name on it?"


The tap-dancing, chortling devil inside his chest was almost too much to contain as he watched her reaction grow to his outrageous provocation.

Predictably incensed, with cheeks flaming red and dark eyes flashing fire and nipples fully erect through the fabric of her blouse, she sat forward in her chair and snarled, "Ginny taught me a good Castration Hex recently. Care to see it?"

Ho-ho-ho, she was his! Just one more push…

"You know, you remind me exactly of Katherina in the play: a swotty, little hellion who needs to learn her proper place."


Her book slammed shut and was tossed aside. "And I suppose you're going to say the predictable and tiresome cliché that a woman's proper place is warming your flea-ridden bed?"

A dark, exultant smile slid across his lips.

"No, it's bent over my knee, her bare arse in the air."



How they got back to Hermione's flat without splinching was a miracle as far as Draco was concerned, as neither he nor Hermione was inclined to give much concentration to anything except ripping into each other.

The moment they appeared in her living room, though, things really became frenzied.

Gripping the edges of her blouse, he tore it straight up the divide, just as he'd fantasized, and attacked her exposed throat with his teeth. "I love this spot," he growled as he suckled and marked the tender skin directly above her pounding pulse. "Right here, this spot is all mine."

She'd gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers, and struggled to yank it up and off of him. "You wish," she panted, tossing his shirt to the floor once it cleared his head and arms.

He bit her harder just to prove his point, and smoothed his hands up her waist to cup her barely-covered breasts, stroking over her skin. Hermione arched into him and he felt the edges of her bra… It was her best one: dark green satin with black French edging. The one he'd purchased for her two months ago.

"Are you wearing the matching set?"

"No," she answered around sucking on his earlobe, her fingers making quick work of his belt. "And I didn't wear it just for you, either."

A chuckle rumbled through his chest as her implication became clear. "My naughty, naughty girl, I love it when you lie."

He shucked her shirt and left the bra in place, pulling the cups down to expose her hard, beige nipples. His thumbs feathered over them and she gasped with pleasure. He pinched them and rolled with expert touch, knowing the exact pressure to heighten her arousal. She made an adorable, "Oh!" noise.

"Like that?" he teased.

"Yesssss," she hissed under her breath.


She whimpered.

He obeyed her need, lightly tugging until her sweet nips were prominent against his palms.

Hermione dug her fingernails into his shoulders and let her head loll back. She gave a deep, throaty moan of approval.

Draco pressed his mouth to her ear as if he were imparting a secret and whispered to her, as he knew she liked. "Do you want me to touch your pussy now? Put my fingers inside you and fuck you until you come all over my hand? Or would you rather I press my tongue against your clit?"

She shook in his arms as he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her in tight.

"Can I have you again today, Granger?" he asked, completing their ritual.

They may desire each other like animals, but in this one thing, Draco behaved the gentleman. If she told him 'no', he'd back off. He would never force sex on a woman, especially this woman.

She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "Yes. Take me to bed, Draco. Right now."

With a pull of strength, he had her up in his arms, and carried her bridal style through the open door of her bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, unsure if her Floo was active or not, much too jealous a man to allow an accidental witness to what he was going to do to her.





To join or blend to form a single entity.


She was hot and wet, and everything he wanted.

After an amazing round of fingering and cunt licking, she'd come against his lips, bathing him in her musky, feminine essence. He'd lapped up every bit like it was a favourite dessert.

Next came the fucking. Where he was sensual and flirty with his oral skills, now he let loose his internal beast. Hermione was completely on-board with that plan, as raw and as feral as he. He'd pounded her pussy hard and she'd wailed into his shoulder, clinging to him and holding on for the ride (it was his seduction, after all). Their flesh met with loud smacking noises and the bed shook on its frame, the headboard slamming into the wall.

His orgasm consumed him, pulling him down and drowning him in wave after wave of shattering ecstasy. He'd come with a cry of her given name, his spine bowing with his release. Granger followed a few thrusts later, his fingers rubbing her clit just right as he'd impaled her over and over until both of their tremors stopped.

They'd held onto each other in the afters, silent except for the sounds of their harsh breathing and pounding hearts. Eventually, even that tapered off and the hush of the afternoon traffic outside her window became the white noise in the background instead.

She'd wanted a shower. He'd denied her the opportunity to cut and run, as she'd often do after the sex was done, by distracting her with kissing and questions and caresses meant to lull her until she became too sleepy to want to get up.

"This is different, isn't it?" she finally asked, her voice a bit shy and whisper-quiet. "Us, I mean."

"Yeah, it's different," he admitted, stroking his fingernails very lightly over her arm, relishing in just touching her again.

She tilted her chin up to meet his eye. "Why?"

He stared up at her too-white ceiling, given a fresh coat just last year, and noted where the painter's had missed a spot. "Because you don't care that I was a Death Eater, and I don't care… that you dated someone as spotted and small dick'd as Weasley."

"I'm serious," she chastised while trying to stifle a giggle.

"So am I."

She shoved him.

He sighed, and made the impromptu, on-the-spot decision to just get it all over with and throw her the bone she was digging so hard to uncover. Simultaneously, he prayed it wouldn't be the biggest mistake of his life.

"It's because I like the way you look when you read or argue, and you like the way I watch and provoke you. Because we get each other in a way no one else does - the silences, the meaning behind the words, the gestures others miss." He looked down at her and smoothed a curl from her forehead. "Because I can't seem to stay away from you, no matter how much I tell myself I'm unworthy of being here. Because I can't stop dreaming about having moments like this for the rest of my life. I just can't… stop."

She stared at him for a few, silent moments with incredulity, with panic, and with hope - as if she was just then coming to a major revelation. Then, a brilliant smile split her lips, showing off a beautiful set of teeth. "You can't stop driving me mad, you mean," she teased. "Picking arguments just to get us here."

He chuckled. "So you noticed, did you?"

She snorted and gave him a light love tap on the chest. "It didn't take a genius, Draco. It isn't a very good ploy. Too Slytherin."

That made him laugh out loud. "So, I'm predictable now."

Reaching down under the bed sheet, she stroked over his cock. He hardened in seconds, ready for a second round in a magical minute.

"Oh, yes," she admitted, her eyes glued to spot where her hand moved under the covers. Her voice was breathy with renewed arousal. "You're very predictable… and I rather like it."

He slicked her palm and fingers with his dew, dampening the sheets as she glided up and down his length, her hold possessive. He rolled his hips and groaned as she cupped his pouch.

"Ah, fuck, Hermione," he sighed with pleasure. "I want you again."

In a fluid move, she rose above him, positioned him perfectly, and sank down onto his cock to the root.

"Yes, take me," he begged, giving her all the power this time.

She was glorious as she rode him, her hips and pelvis surging, her breasts lightly bouncing. A thin layer of sweat gleaned over her skin, and her wild hair fell like a curtain down her back, curling to her waist.

Sliding in and out of her silken sheathe again, Draco felt a sense of belonging, of coming home. He'd never felt such a thing with a woman, and it took him by surprise. Staring down the length of his body at where they were intimately connected, he realized how much he needed this – needed her.

"Okay?" she asked, panting and shaking, the same as him.

He nodded, unable to speak just then.

She spread her knees wider to either side and leveraged her weight on her palms, which rested on his chest. The new angle allowed him to slide deeper into her.

She was so tight, a snug furnace that fit around him and pulled him in, held him close, kept him warm.


"You feel so good," he admitted, staring at her mouth as she continued to rock back and forth, up and down. "Made just for me."

With a light grip and a small tug on her elbows, he drew her down so their chests pressed together, closing the distance between them. It was a metaphor for his feelings: she narrowed his world by inches, until he could see and breathe and know only her. He kissed her with soft need, and focussed on serving her every desire.

For the first time, they made love.

He was remade when he came deep inside her this time, their mouths fused the same as their climaxing bodies were, their heart beats synched.

Remade… reborn.


Epilogue: 2017

"Now, remember what we discussed, Scorpius."

"Yes, Father. I won't forget."

Draco gave his son a hug goodbye, as he prepared to board the Hogwarts Express for his first day of school. "Goodbye, Son."

Scorpius turned and gave his mother a hug as well, ever the affectionate child.

Hermione bravely fought back her tears. "Write as much as you need, and stay close to Rosie and Albus, no matter what House you're sorted, right?"

Their son sighed with impatience. "I know, Mum. Geez, you've said it a million times: interhouse unity. I got it. Can I go now?" He was practically thrumming with excitement.

"Go," Hermione shoo'd their boy. "Stay out of mischief!"

Draco pursed his lips to keep from smirking as he wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her in close. He'd given Scorpius the exact opposite instructions as his wife (well, the boy had adopted his father's penchant for shit disturbing on an epic level).

"Goodbye, Father, Mother," their son offered a final time at the train steps, and then he shouldered his satchel and boarded the train. He didn't look back at them through the windows until he'd found a seat in the same compartment as his two best friends, Rose (Weasley's daughter with Susan Bones) and Albus Severus (Potter's spawn with the She-Weasel).

When the train pulled out, everyone waved.

Before they turned to join the Potters and Weasleys on the platform to walk out together, Hermione rounded on Draco.

"What exactly did you discuss with our son, hmmm?"

Draco feigned innocence. "Nothing."

His wife raised a brow at that blatant lie. "Once more, with feeling."

He shrugged, and kept his arm firmly around his wife's waist as they walked behind the troop of redheaded adults in front of them, heading for the platform's exit. "He merely made the observation that barefoot and pregnant was a good look for you. I happened to agree."

From the corner of his eye, he watched her frown as she puzzled through the unspoken message. "But I'm not pregnant again… Oh!" She rounded on him, eyes wide with excitement, smile beaming. "You've thought about my proposal for another child!"

He snorted. "Thought about it? Hell, witch, I barely got finished reading it this century! Wherever did you find parchment that long – from a solicitor's private stash?"

She stopped them by pulling him out of the mob and closer to the wall, letting the others get ahead. "Truly, Draco, do you really want to try again? I know there will be a twelve-year gap between Scorpius and a new baby, and Wynnie's only two now, but I'd always wanted three."

He took a deep breath and smiled as he let it out. "I suppose, if I must. It will require a lot of practice, you realise. These things don't always happen right away."

Hermione practically bounced on her heels, her happiness spilling out of her to infect the world. "I'm up for it, I promise!"

Aroused by the conversation, he pressed in closer to her. His steely erection bumped against her covered core. "If I concede, you have to concede something, too: you're to wear the collar for me every night until you're pregnant."

He'd bought the kinky sex accessory for her for their third anniversary. The first night she'd worn it, they'd conceived Scorpius. The next time had been years later, and they'd conceived Wyndalla. Hermione hadn't worn it since, but he'd caught her occasionally fingering the strip of leather with the silver buckles, considering it.

Using their robes as cover, she reached between them and stroked over his erection. "Make me," she countered, her dark eyes glittering with naughty promise.

"Oh, I will," he vowed, "and I'm going to spank your bare arse over my knee after I put it on you just for your willfulness. I will teach you to be a proper wife if it's the last thing I do."

"Misogynistic Neanderthal," she accused. "I'd like to see you try." A small, excited squeal of delight escaped her lips. "Give me a thirty second head-start," she requested as she took off, excusing herself as she pushed through the dwindling crowd for the exit.

"Thirty seconds. Sure," Draco agreed, shaking his head at her naïveté.

Four seconds later, he took up the chase.