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Hermione and Malfoy were spending yet another lunch in the Library, the former reading her favorite novel while the latter worked on yet another extra assignment in the class he loved, but was growing very quickly irritated by.
“Can you put that book down for a second and help me?” Malfoy said abruptly, pushing back from the table with a groan. “If I look at this star chart for another minute, I’m going to explode.”
Hermione simply turned the page and read on. “I don’t care how much you hate Astronomy, Draco . I’m not going to do the assignment for you.”
“I never asked you to,” he snapped, though there was little to no heat behind his words. He was playful as he rubbed his temples and grumbled, “It’s ridiculous how ridiculous I find the subject when my name is bloody derived from it.”
“You just don’t have an artistic bone in your body. That’s why you can’t spot the constellations.”
Hermione had to catch the balled up piece of paper that was flung her way before it hit her nose. “Play nice ,” she said, trying to hold back a grin.
Malfoy smirked, his eyes flashing with wicked humor. “Never with you.”
If you’re wondering why muggleborn Hermione Granger and former Death Eater Draco Malfoy were acting rather chummy in the Hogwarts Library, one could only shrug and say, “It just happened, I guess.”
It had all started when the two of them had been assigned as heads for their final year at Hogwarts. Hermione was the only one out of her friends to elect to return, Harry working as an Auror and Ron helping George out at the shop. Neither one of them had been pleased at the idea of her sharing a dorm with the snake, and even Hermione herself had even been apprehensive, despite having received an apology from Malfoy via owl earlier that summer.
In the end, her nerves were completely washed away on the train ride to Hogwarts. She had left the compartment where she, Luna, Neville, and Ginny were hanging out to find a moment to prepare herself before seeing Malfoy again, but he had found her outside of the head’s compartment before she’d been able to get her thoughts in order.
He’d asked if she’d gotten his letter, and when she said she had, he’d asked rather quietly why she hadn’t responded. It had taken her a while, as she had been so shocked by the question itself, that she had been unable to stop the truth from coming out.
I didn’t think you’d care to hear from me. I thought it was just a box to check off of your list.
Malfoy’s eyes had narrowed, he’d let out a sharp breath, and responded so quickly, Hermione had been more than taken aback.
You will never just be a box to be checked off.
Hermione had only been able to nod silently, her heart in her throat. Her thoughts were all drowned out by the deafening buzz from feeling the weight of his stare, no longer hateful and judging, but regretful and determined, washing over her.
After that, a tenuous friendship was born.
They cohabited beautifully in their shared dorm, and it was safe to say that they worked together in far more instances than just academically and as student leaders. They found common interests, like potions, arithmancy, and even talked in depth about muggle literature.
It had snowballed from there, where now the two of them talking, walking, or laughing together all about the castle was considered a normal occurrence. Their cohabitation and lack of mutual disdain had been a bit of a shock to the student body, but by mid-October, everyone had seemed to grasp that Hermione and Draco had managed to overcome their past, so everyone else might as well get on board. No one gave them weird looks, worried after Hermione’s safety or tried to accuse Malfoy of doing anything nasty by the beginning of December, and it was then that their friendship truly started to grow into something… more.
At least, for Hermione it did.
They spent nearly every waking moment together after Halloween, and it took Hermione a while to realize it. Sure, she saw Ginny and Neville at meals and in class, but she barely saw Luna anymore, and she rarely hung out outside of their dorm. It was honestly where she would rather be, sitting on the sofa in their living room, debating some random topic or introducing Draco to yet another muggle thing that managed to blow his mind. They stayed up late, snuck into the kitchens for snacks, and made each other laugh more than anyone could have thought possible. They shared the same sense of humor, were on the same level intellectually, but were different enough for there to still be surprises. The two of them were thick as thieves after just a few months, and it was then that Hermione realized that she had a problem.
Unfortunately, she had fallen head over heels for her roommate/friend/study partner.
It was easy to manage at first, as Hermione could remind herself that Malfoy wasn’t interested in her like that. But, after they grew to be more comfortable around each other, Hermione couldn’t help but read into his behavior more and more. Malfoy would give her his joking bedroom eyes when she wore short shorts around the dorm, and he had been gaining confidence when it came to sitting closer, pulling her in for a hug, and other overt touches. He never failed to compliment her hair, her eyes, her freckles– nearly everything he had ever spoken ill about before. It was that reminder that made Hermione unsure if it meant what she wanted it to mean.
Ginny was convinced Malfoy was mad for her, but that was neither here nor there. She was biased at best. Her mission all year had been to get Hermione laid by someone other than her brother or Hermione’s muggle neighbor.
Back in the library, Malfoy gave her book a curious look, his brows furrowing. “What even is that book, anyway? I’ve seen you read it all the way through thrice in the past week alone, and you’ve had it on you for months . It has to be good if it’s held your attention for so long.”
Immediately, Hermione stilled, her hand pausing in midair as she was reaching to turn the page. “It’s just a novel,” she said, quickly, waving a hand. “Nothing to do with school.”
“Oh.” Malfoy leaned back and jutted his chin toward it. “Well, what’s it about?”
“I… uh….”
See, the problem was that this book was a bit…well…it was completely the opposite of what people thought a studious book worm like Hermione Granger would read. There was nothing overtly academic about it, though Hermione had learned plenty from it, and the plot was rather one track minded. It was an exploration of the senses and boundaries, so to speak.
In short, it was the filthiest romance novel Hermione had ever read.
It was one of the many ‘smutty’ books Hermione had started reading as of late, courtesy of Padma leaving one behind after class. When Hermione had gone over to snag it to return it to her later, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking at where her classmate’s bookmark had been. The scene had left Hermione feeling far more than intrigued, and with a flush, she had raced to the owlery to place an order at Flourish and Blotts.
Her reading habits spiraled from there, and before she knew it, she had found the perfect novel. It was steamy, it had a great plot, and the emotions that Hermione had felt while reading had been all over the place in the best of ways. The story was about two people, previously enemies, who were forced to work together and eventually fell in love.
The main female character, Lucy, desperately needed to be taken care of, both body and mind. She had just been through hell and back and she needed to take a long deserved break. The main male character, Zander, wanted nothing more than to be the thing that kept someone living and breathing for the next moment. He was obsessive, protective, and more loving than Hermione thought a man capable. From there, a daddy/baby girl dynamic had been born, and the book descended into an introduction of sex and kinks that had left Hermione breathless. It was a bit much, but it was just literature, she told herself over and over again.
That was until Hermione couldn’t stop imagining Malfoy as Zander and her as Lucy.
Malfoy was caring in the same ways, protective, and just as possessive. If Hermione had agreed to see him at a certain time, she would not be missing it for anyone, as he always made very clear. He would smolder when they got closer late at night, his eyes warm and his hands inching forward, but never crossing the invisible line on the couch between them. He looked like he wanted to keep her warm on every cold night, and sometimes, he said things that made Hermione wonder if thoughts of the two of them kept him up as many nights as they had kept her up.
Imagining Malfoy as Zander had consequences.
See, Hermione liked to color code her books with magical highlighters according to a certain list or set of information she was looking for. She had modified the coding system to better fit the genre once she got into romance (cough, smut, cough), and if she were being honest, it did help her when she wanted to go back to her room after a long night with a certain someone and find a certain scene if she wanted to feel a certain way.
The colors and labels were:
Blue: actual tears
Green: Do me like this!!
Pink: words that cause waterfalls
Yellow: made me lol
Purple: award winning writing
And when she received a new set of highlighters that Christmas and a silver one stared up at her mockingly, Hermione hadn’t been able to stop herself from adding another color and label, not when it so perfectly matched the living thing.
Silver sparkles: him
She used silver to highlight the things that she wanted Malfoy to do, with, and for her.
It was all of these thoughts– her crush on Malfoy, the filthiness of the book, and the possibility of him seeing her notes –that spun around in Hermione’s mind in the half a second it took for Malfoy to realize that there was something in the book that she didn’t want him to see.
Malfoy’s face morphed into a playful, intentional expression, and he leaned forward in his chair. “What are you reading, Granger?”
“Nothing of consequence,” Hermione said brusquely, closing the book and setting it to the side. She kept her hand on top of it, though, just in case. “Honestly, it’s like you’re going to try every tactic to get out of doing your extra work. You’re not going to pass your NEWTs if you don’t study!”
“That’s not going to work on me and you know it.” Malfoy’s grin kicked up a notch when he noticed Hermione’s gulp. “What’s the book about, Granger?” he asked again, his voice softer, more cajoling. “Tell me, or I might lose my mind wondering.”
“Why?” Hermione blurted, wondering herself why he was suddenly so interested in the book he’d seen her with every day for the past few weeks. Of course, it had a glamored cover, but he couldn’t tell that.
Could he?
Malfoy’s grin kicked up on one side, fully turning into a smirk. “Granger, if whatever’s in that book got you to blush like that and glamor it nearly beyond recognition, then you can bet that I want to know exactly what’s in it.”
He could.
Hermione’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Nothing intelligent was going to come out anyway, so she simply gaped like a fish, unsure if she wanted to run and hide, tell him off for teasing her, or crawl across the table and into his lap and beg him to read it out loud to her.
He just looked so bloody good in his quidditch sweater.
Malfoy’s grin became sinful. “Oh, Granger. You must have a treasure over there.”
“It’s nothing,” Hermione insisted, blinking out of her stupor. She worked quickly to shove everything back into her bag, feeling even more flustered when two students walking by caused several quills and papers to fall to the floor. “It’s just– it’s personal,” she continued, scrambling for everything. She slapped her bag shut and stood straight, her hands smoothing down her skirt. “So leave it– just leave it at that.”
Hermione went to leave, clutching her things and her heart tight to her chest, but before she could make it around the corner of the stack they were studying behind, Malfoy called out, “How could I leave it alone when your blush just got two shades darker?”
She hoped she imagined his chuckle when she stumbled around the corner.
It wasn’t until an hour later in Herbology that Hermione realized her book was gone, replaced in her haste by Malfoy’s book on ancient Indian star charts.
Hermione subsequently silenced the vicinity, leaned beneath her desk like she was going to grab something from her bag, and screamed out loud in the middle of class.
She couldn’t go back to their dorm.
This was the conclusion Hermione had drawn after hiding in the restricted section of the library for the past three hours. She knew of an area that she hadn’t shown him yet, deep within the depths of the restricted section, so she sealed herself away to scream into the void, vent to no one and nothing about how unfair it was that she had to be humiliated so thoroughly, and pray to whatever god or goddess that would be willing to spare her.
Eventually, Hermione got to her homework and started working, but there wasn’t enough of it to truly distract her from her impending doom. Malfoy was kind and he was a good friend, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking the absolute piss out of her for reading porn with a plot. Her mind kept spiraling between what she would find in their dorm upon returning, what Malfoy thought about her labels and highlighted sections, and how he would treat her knowing exactly what got her hot and bothered.
It was agonizing, thinking about Malfoy looking into her mind in such an intimate way.
The entire time she proofed her Transfiguration essay, Hermione wondered about the lines she had highlighted pink (words that make waterfalls) and green (do me like this!!!). She knew her favorite pink highlight by heart, and even thinking it had her flushing.
Zander smirked down at her, his hands gripping her thighs so tight, she knew she’d have bruises tomorrow. “You’re not getting away from me. Not now, and not ever. So, you better buckle up, because I’ve been starving for you, and I intend to eat my fill.”
And her favorite green quote? Hermione had to undo one of the buttons of her blouse even thinking about it.
“I’m going to own everything about you,” Zander breathed, his hand stroking down Lucy’s throat with equal amounts of threat and sweet, sweet promise. “Your mind is mine to protect, your body is mine to covet, and your soul is mine to treasure. Your orgasms are mine , your pussy is mine , and your mouth is mine . You will be treated like a queen, and every night when I fuck you, you’ll know just how deeply I feel for you. Make no mistake, Love,” he breathed, his eyes wild with want and something that the young girl was hesitant to name, “you’re going to let Daddy love every single inch of you like I was born to, and you babygirl… you are going to love it even more.”
Hermione conjured a glass of water and downed it.
At around half-past eleven, Hermione ran out of work and patience. She couldn’t push off going back any longer, so she clung to the only hope she had: Malfoy hadn’t finished reading, and he was planning on attacking her the next morning.
So, she left the sanctuary of the library and headed back across the castle toward the Faculty Tower. As she walked to their dorm, she couldn’t help but think about what chapter he was on. She wondered if he had gotten through the trials and tests that Zane set for Lucy, or if he had progressed even further, finding himself reading about the learning curve that Lucy and Hermione had experienced when it came to being submissive.
The thought of Malfoy reading about Lucy’s first punishment was enough to set her skin ablaze with both desire and embarrassment. She had highlighted so much of that chapter. Really, it had been more about the mindlessness of subspace than anything, but Hermione had gone back and put silver sparkles over several of her previously highlighted sections.
As Hermione pushed the portrait door open, she was prepared for an empty living room, a closed bedroom door, or at the very worst, Malfoy walking through the kitchen to grab something to eat and giving her a snarky comment before returning back to her precious book. However, none of these things were what welcomed her upon stepping over the threshold.
Malfoy stood between the couch and the coffee table, his back to her until the sound of the portrait swinging on its hinges alerted him to her presence. When it creaked open, he turned around at the waist, those eyes trained on her in a singular way. His arms were crossed, her book tucked between his fingers and dangling low, taunting her nearly as much as the small smirk gracing his features.
She’d never, ever seen him look so happy and confident at the same time.
Hermione stopped, frozen in place. The sound in the room dulled, and the only thing that rooted her to the floor was the feeling of her socks rubbing against her shoes and the thick strap of her bag digging into her shoulder. Everything came down to the look of absolute triumph on Malfoy’s face.
He looked right back at her wide-eyed stare, and grinned .
Hermione’s breath rattled in her chest, but she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t react. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the victorious Malfoy before her, looking like he had won the keys to the kingdom.
“Did you know that I read much faster than I let on in our study sessions?” he asked, breaking the silence.
When Hermione said nothing, Malfoy clucked his teeth and shook his head. “I figured as much. It’s why you expected me to still be in my room, right? Reading your little book, still on my way to discovering just how to get you to squirm and scream?”
Hermione couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, nor his tone of voice. After all of the subtle, subtle flirting the past few weeks, it knocked her back a step. His tone was predatory, almost degrading, but the smile on his face and the look in his eye…she almost couldn’t believe it, but Malfoy looked decidedly proud of her. Like he had been waiting for this moment– waiting for her to admit that she liked those things.
It made her squirm where she stood, wondering about what other things she could do to make Malfoy proud of her.
Shaking her head clear of dirty thoughts, Hermione took a step out of the entrance, forcing herself to swallow her jitters. It’s just Malfoy, she reasoned with herself. He’s just going to take the mickey out of me for being a closet freak, right?
Right?
“Well? Did you finish it?” Hermione forced out through a heavy breath, looking up at Malfoy from beneath lowered eyelashes, her head tilted forward to hide her flushed cheeks.
Malfoy’s head tipped from side to side, his grin slowly widening. “In some aspects. In others… not so much.”
Hermione had no idea what that meant, but the words felt purposeful, so she kept her mouth shut. If anything, she hoped to get out of the altercation without saying much, hoping that an ‘Are you finished?’ would suffice for the start of her getaway.
“It was an eye-opening book, you know,” Malfoy continued, smiling down as he unwound his arms. He brought the book up and traced the spine and the front cover, the glamor now long gone. Meeting her eyes again, he asked softly, “Do you want to hear the parts I found the most intriguing, especially once I found out how much you liked them?” His silver eyes sparked. “Your key and highlights were rather…insightful.”
Oh no. This was too much. She couldn’t do this.
“If you’re going to just make fun of me for what I choose to read in my free time, then I’d like to just skip that and go straight to bed,” Hermione breathed out shakily. She had to stop this before it started or she’d never recover. She thought she could take whatever he had to say, but even this was too mortifying for her to endure. What was she thinking, daydreaming about Draco Malfoy wanting in her knickers like the books she read. And, now that he knew, she’d have to move out, go sleep in Ginny’s bed, possibly even change her name.
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed slightly before they seemed to flash with a certain understanding. Standing straight and with slow, purposeful movements, he started walking toward her. “Granger, I think you’re confused.”
“How so?” she asked after finding her voice, her eyes wide and fixed on the carpet in front of her, dragonhide boots coming into view far too quickly for her racing heart.
Malfoy began walking around Hermione’s still form slowly, flipping open the book. “Your pink highlights are for words that made you wet, yes?”
At Hermione’s shocked squeak of indignation, he simply chuckled and flipped the page again, ignoring her as he read, “ Don’t you want to sit on my face, babygirl? Don’t you want me to take care of you, let my tongue fuck you like my cock so desperately wants to, but you won’t let it?’” He tsked, then leaned in right behind her left ear. “Such naughty, naughty things you’re reading, Granger, but it’s naughtier that you weren’t sharing them with me.”
Hermione sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. “ Malfoy… I just– it’s some light reading and…”
She trailed off because Merlin , his voice… . And reading those words? Hermione could already feel herself getting warm, unable to stop the reaction her body was having to the way Malfoy reenacted one of her favorite scenes.
“Do you want to hear my favorite things that you highlighted green? Hmm?” Malfoy hummed, drawing his words out. He was like molasses, slowly sinking around and into her, the feeling of his eyes like a hot press between her shoulders and thighs.
When Hermione didn’t answer (she was convinced now that this had to be a dream, that she was in some kind of alternate reality and was about to be rudely woken up by her alarm), Malfoy read another passage aloud. “ What’s that?” Zander asked, pressing her further and further into the mattress. “Did something squeak out? A name that I know that you’re just dying to call me, to use to beg and plead with me?” She felt him step closer behind her when he asked in a delicately soft voice, “I wonder what word he wanted her to call him, Granger? Do you know which one it is?”
Hermione saw him from her peripheral first, then she felt the heat of his body as he stopped just behind her and to the left. The book found its way around them both, Malfoy holding it up in front of her to a specific page that had more than a few silver highlights.
Oh no. Hermione knew this page. She knew this page by heart.
“I wonder what these silver markings really mean, Granger,” he murmured so softly, so sweetly, Hermione couldn’t help but tremble. She wanted to fall back into his chest, to end this game, this charade, and plead with him to soothe the burning in her skin, but she stood still, locked in her tremors. She still wasn’t sure what Malfoy’s end game was, and she wasn’t willing to throw herself off of the tower for him yet.
“Will you read them to me?” he asked, his lips brushing the curve of her ear as he leaned in further. “There are a few that help me guess, but I want to be sure.”
She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. The only thing Hermione could focus on was not falling to pieces over the nerves of having him so close and the unparalleled amount of desire coursing through her veins. She couldn’t speak, because it would end the game, end the facade that she didn’t want him, and then she’d face the real judgment.
She was close to losing that battle.
Malfoy wasn’t having it. “I asked you a question, Hermione,” he said sternly, her first name causing a breath to escape from behind closed lips. Clicking his tongue as he inched closer, he added darkly, “Tell me which one, or there’ll be consequences.”
Without her consent, another gasp escaped from between her lips, a soft sound accompanying it.
Orders. Listening. Consequences. Things Hermione thrived with.
When Malfoy chuckled, a low rumbling deep in his chest, Hermione felt her knickers begin to stick to her skin.
Malfoy was crowding her at this point. He wasn’t touching her, not overtly, but his presence was more than overwhelming. The heat of his body and the emotions rolling off of him were nearly suffocating. “Is your favorite silver highlight on this page, darling? I thought it might be after I finished reading.”
He only gave her a second before he growled in her ear, his other hand clamping down on her waist, “Tell me right now, Hermione. Is it on this page?”
“Yes,” she gasped out, her shoulders straightening from the shock of him using her given name again and the feeling of him finally touching her pulling her from her nonverbal hase.
Malfoy nearly growled out his words. “Point to it. Now.”
Raising a shaky hand and wondering how on earth she had gotten into this predicament, Hermione pointed toward the center of the right page. “There,” she whispered, feeling unbearably unsteady. There wasn’t a highlighted line or passage that wasn’t filthy in the entire book, but she still picked her favorite one.
He was right in her ear, right up against her back, his free hand ghosting her hip when he whispered roughly, “Read it to me. Out loud.”
“ I can’t ,” Hermione immediately responded, blushing seven shades of crimson at how whiny her voice came out. God, she sounded like such a brat.
Malfoy’s only reaction was to sigh and lightly, gently slide the hand on her waist around to her stomach, both of his arms now caging her in. “If you good,” he whispered against her temple, his lips brushing her skin and making her breathing pick up with every word, “I promise I’ll reward you with something that you’ll enjoy.”
Oh fuck.
Hermione’s knees were trembling the entire time she read the short passage. “I want you to control me as much as you care for me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “I want you to love me as hard as you used to hate me. I need you…”
She fumbled, but a squeeze to her elbow pushed her on.
“I want you to fuck all of my thoughts away, make me scream and cry, spank me when I’m bad, and soothe away the pain when I’ve finally learned my lesson,” she said, nearly fallen back against his chest from shaking so hard by the time she finished. “Do you want to know why?”
“Why, Hermione?” Malfoy responded softly as he pulled the hair back from her cheek, just like it said in the book.
“Fuck,” Hermione whispered, her eyes closing as she finally, finally fell back against Malfoy’s chest.
“Finish,” was his firm order, the double entendre setting Hermione’s skin ablaze.
“ Because I want you to be my Daddy ,” Hermione whispered, her voice helplessly frail and shaking from nerves and lust. God, she had to be dripping between her thighs.
Malfoy tutted then made a comforting noise as he dropped the book to the coffee table. “Granger, you never told me how badly you needed to be taken care of.” Sweeping all of her hair over her left shoulder, he leaned in to exhale his next breath against the gooseflesh of her neck. “I could have stepped up for the job long before now.”
Hermione’s whole world tilted on its axis.
Pulling from his arms, she spun, looking up at him with wide eyes. “W-w-what? What do you mean?”
Gone for the moment was the dark hunter from before. Those silver eyes no longer glowed with a preternatural killer instinct, instead replaced by the warmest tone silver had ever known.
“Hermione,” he began softly, raising his hand up to her cheek with a knowing smile. “Don’t tell me you haven’t known for just as long as I have that this–” He gestured between them, “–was inevitable.”
“I–I–but you— I don’t—”
Malfoy crooned, low and in the back of his throat, then regained the space that Hermione had created between them, keeping her in place with a hand on her upper arm and her cheek. “Use your words, Granger. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
Her thoughts were whirling, a cascading downpour of previously held conclusions being slashed and shredded. The only thing that could come out was, “How long?”
“A while,” Malfoy replied with a slow smile.
When he saw the dissatisfied look on her face, he rolled his eyes and added, “Fine, do you want me to tell you how long I’ve wanted to fuck you, or how long I’ve wanted to be your Daddy? Because those require two different answers.”
Hermione could only gape at him and whisper, “Both, I guess.”
Stroking her cheek, he said with all the confidence in the world, “I’ve masturbated to you since you slapped me in third year. I’ve wanted to be your Daddy since I noticed how desperately you needed someone to take care of you.”
“And how long has that been?” Hermione insisted, her cheeks flushed from his nonchalant confessions.
Malfoy’s eyes roving over her face stopped to stare directly at her, and he looked like he wanted to pull her to him. “Granger, I’ve wanted to take care of you like that ever since I knew what the entire kink was.”
She couldn’t believe it. It was too good to be true. Malfoy– Draco –wanted her, and he wanted her like–like–like that.
Like how she wanted it to be.
Malfoy watched as Hermione took in the information, all the while playing with the curls cascading around her face. His other hand stroked the exposed skin of her arm, soothing her without words.
“So,” Hermione started, working up the courage to look him in the eye. “You…want me?”
His returning grin was sinful. “Oh sweet girl, I more than want you.”
Hermione gulped.
Malfoy began walking them backward toward his door, his eyes igniting with silver flames. “Do you want me, Hermione? Are you ready for all that it entails? Because this ?” He reached behind him with an empty hand and wandlessly summoned the book from where he had dropped it earlier and brandished it lightly. “If this is what you want? You would find me more than willing and much, much more creative than Zander.”
“Yeah?” Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. She was in shock. Bliss filled, hopeful shock.
He placed the book down on the back of the couch as they passed it, still walking step by step toward his bedroom. “Do you understand now? Do you know what it means when we go past that door? What I want with you?”
She knew he was talking about the proverbial door of their relationship as well as the physical door behind her, but it was no use. Hermione had wanted Malfoy for so, so long, and to have him in any context would be incredible. But to have him in the context she craved more than anything, and to have him want it too?
This was her dream come true.
“I understand,” Hermione said softly, her hands shaking as they rose to clutch at the sides of his shirt. She needed something to steady her before they began.
But Malfoy tutted, and she wasn’t sure why. That was, until he raised his hand from her arm and lightly, gently braced it against her throat, his fingers pressing ever so slightly against her pulse.
His voice was dark when he said, slow and as soft as sin, “You understand…what? What’s my name?”
If Hermione’s knickers hadn’t been soaked before, they were now.
“I understand… Draco,” she said, the words nearly a whimper for how hard she was shaking as they tumbled out.
The response from Draco was everything. A growl rumbled in his chest, and he groaned low in his throat as he fell forward, his head tipping to rest between her neck and shoulder. Her back hit his door a second later, his hand cupping the back of her head to cushion the blow.
“That’s it baby,” he whispered, pressing up against her. He was so big, his broad shoulders, his smell, and his height making Hermione feel like she was completely encapsulated. She had to bite her lip to hold in a moan when he nipped at her throat, but Draco caught it. “You can be loud, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”
Hermione let a moan escape from between her teeth the next time his fingers squeezed her throat, and if the victorious sound Draco snarled out as he pushed open the door and pushed them in was anything to go by, he was pleased by her reaction.
Kicking the door shut behind him, Draco walked Hermione backwards with a hand on her throat and another at her hip, squeezing and pressing her into him to the point that she could feel him, hot and hard against her belly. Hermione’s breaths were coming in near pants from his hold and from the exhilaration, and it only seemed to fuel Draco further. His eyes flashed between his hands and her face, the look in them voracious.
Hermione gasped when his hand was suddenly gone from her throat, now free to scoop her up with both hands clenched beneath her thighs. On instinct Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, and Draco groaned, his mouth falling to her neck and shoulder as he walked them to his bed.
“I’m going to eat you alive,” he hissed, sucking at the junction of her neck and shoulder to the point that Hermione couldn’t help but let out a little noise when his mouth popped off of her skin.
“Mark you all up,” he murmured under his breath, kissing his way up her neck and to her jaw. He laved at it, headed toward her ear before dragging his teeth across her lobe. “Make it known to everyone that you’re mine .”
“Draco,” Hermione moaned, her head kicking back. She was so overwhelmed with him, with his scent, with his fingers gripping her to the point where she knew she was going to have bruises, that it was the only thing she could utter.
“That’s not my name,” Draco said, chuckling darkly as he set her down on the end of his bed. Running his hands up and down her sides and to her hips, he tugged her to the edge as he squatted before her, his silver eyes alight with mischief. His fingers found their way beneath her school skirt, still donned after her long day, and his fingernails scratched at the tights that covered her skin. “I think we can find some common ground when it comes to my name, but I will admit that I have often dreamed of you screaming my given name like your life depends on it.”
With a screeching RIIIIIIIP! Draco tore Hermione’s tights off of her waist, the band at the top intact while he ripped through the fabric covering her thighs and knees until they dangled in scraps about her ankles.
“Draco!” Hermione shrieked, having loved those particular tights.
For his part, Draco merely laughed, his fingers digging into her naked skin and tugging her to the point where she had to slam her hands down behind herself on top of the covers to keep herself upright.
Draco knelt down on one knee and let his head fall to her lap, his nose working beneath her skirt while his fingers drug themselves down her thighs. Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head at the gesture, and she couldn’t help but squeeze her knees together, leaving a space for Draco’s cheek between her thighs
“Wearing such sinful things aren’t we, Granger,” he hummed while running his finger back up to feel the lace-trimmed knickers she was sporting. Horrifyingly enough, they were black with constellations. “Teasing me with those sheer tights, begging for me to rip them off of you. Gods, just asking for me to make your arse red for taunting me every single day.”
Hermione squealed equally from the effect of his words and from the way he quickly spread her legs wide open, thighs propped up on either side by forceful hands. She was also a bit confused about how he was that turned on by her opaque tights, but to each their own.
Draco groaned as he ran his tongue up the inside of Hermione’s thigh, causing her to jump and thrash lightly in his hold. “You smell so sweet, I think I’m inspired.”
Pushing the flaps of her skirt up for his personal viewing, Draco took in the soggy knickers clinging to her skin, causing the silver in his eyes to look purely ravenous.
“I really will eat you alive,” Draco murmured, squeezing and digging his fingers into her hips. Hermione bit her limp and whimpered, feeling his fingers slip beneath the stringy band of her knickers. “But not before we get a few things straight.”
Before Hermione could blink, her knickers were ripped off of her body and dangling from Draco’s clenched fist.
He looked at them with a curious eye before breaking out into a wicked grin, looking down at her. Hermione could only swallow thickly in response, desperate for more of his touch, his heat, his sinful words. She wanted more.
Draco lifted one of her legs by reaching down and snatching her ankle, using one hand to hold her while the other slipped the shoe off of her foot. “Your first rule is,” he said softly as he kissed the inside of her ankle, “you’re not allowed to wear any tights. Ever .”
Hermione whimpered. She loved her tights.
“What was that?” he asked, grinning as he set her foot down, only to do the same to the other side. Draco kissed that ankle a bit longer, his teeth grazing up her calf as he said clearly, “I forgot to mention rule number two. Everything is verbal.” Setting her leg down, he smoothed both hands back up her thighs, his eyes on his prize. “When I ask a question, sweetheart, I expect an answer.” His eyes flicked up and stayed. “ Out loud.”
Oh Merlin, Hermione thought to herself, biting her lip. “Okay,” came her choked response.
Draco hummed, though the sound was more foreboding than welcoming as his hands pushed her skirt up, up, up, until her stomach and everything beneath it was put on display for him.
He sighed, his eyes closing as he breathed in her scent. “You’ll only get one for now because I’m not sure if you’re being a brat or just so turned on that you can’t think, but the next time you don’t say ‘Yes, Daddy’ or ‘Yes, Draco’, I’m going to make you come so many times that you’ll be begging me to give you a break.”
“Yes, Draco,” Hermione quickly gasped, her hands squeezing the sheets beneath her. She still wasn’t quite ready for the other “D” name they both wanted her to call him. Draco had such a nice ring to it, afterall.
And the other one…that meant a lot .
“Good girl,” Draco crooned, his nose trailing further up the inside of her thigh, just stopping short of touching the sparkling mess Hermione had been creating. “So good that I think you deserve a reward.”
Hermione’s heart raced in her chest. “What… what kind of reward?” she asked, her breath and words hitching when his hands began circling behind her thighs to hold her open to him, then coming to clamp down on her hips from behind.
Draco chuckled, his breath hitting her just so that Hermione groaned, desperate for his touch. “If you can keep your eyes open, you’ll see.”
Her eyes shot open, meeting Draco’s at the same moment that he laid his tongue flat against her center, licking with a thick, wet stripe.
Hermione gasped, her hands clutching at nothing, wanting to grab him by the shoulders or by his hair, but not knowing what she was allowed to do, what he wanted–
“ Leglimens ,” Draco whispered against her clit, his lips brushing it with every syllable.
Hermione shrieked when he sucked at her at the same time he whispered seductively into the recesses of her mind, I always knew you’d taste like honey.
And then, he began truly eating her alive, all while crafting a sinful monologue to fill her mind while she struggled to keep her eyes open.
I’ve been starving for you, he said while making the most salacious noises, slurping and sucking from her like she was a dripping popsicle in the summer. Been dying to see you just like this, bucking and pushing your hot little cunt into my mouth.
On and on it went, and Hermione only lost herself further and further into the haze of pleasure that his tongue and lips and words brought her under.
Needed you like this.
Fuck, you taste divine. I could drown in you. Let me drown.
Push back against me like that, yesss. Fuck, show me how needy you are.
You’re going to come so hard, sweetheart, he crooned each time he drew back just before Hermione could tumble over the edge. When she growled in frustration, Draco would merely smile and remind her of his threat to eat her alive.
Hermione could feel it building within her for the fourth time, and before long, her eyes were nearly fluttering shut. But, at the last second and with a shouted, Open your eyes! resounding in her head, Hermione’s lids lifted all the way open in time to watch Draco suck her clit into his mouth, pulling an orgasm from her body and a cry from her lips all at once.
“ Draco!….oh god, oh god, Draco… ” Hermione moaned, tears streaming down her cheeks while her fingers gripped the sheets, coming harder than she ever had before.
It rolled through her body, Hermione’s hips undulating as pleasure sparked in every cell of her body. Draco groaned into her skin, licking up her juices as they dripped down her thighs and his chin, all while Hermione gasped and twitched, her eyes wide and unseeing as her mind reeled.
How am I going to survive his cock? was the only discernible thought she could make out.
Draco didn’t wait for Hermione to recover enough to assist him in moving her up to the center of his bed, choosing to move her on his own, hands gripping her at her hips. Hermione fell back against the pillows with a gasp, the air expelled swallowed by Draco before it could escape her lips.
He was everywhere. His hands, his lips, his smell, his weight. Everything was overwhelming in the best of ways. His tongue tangled with her own, licking into her mouth with the taste of her come swearing between them while his hips ground into hers. It was like being surrounded in the essence of them , and Hermione was nearly high off of it.
“Gods,” Draco growled, ripping himself away. He gripped her jaw with one hand and placed the other next to her head, tangling in her hair. “You tasted—” he said, bending to kiss her neck, nipping her between his words, “—like—fucking— sunshine .”
Hermione moaned when he sucked particularly hard at the junction of her neck and shoulder. She felt so undone, so messy. It was thrilling, being so cloudy in the head, but in the best of ways.
Draco sat up, not waiting a second before snapping his fingers and vanishing all of Hermione’s clothes. Everything— her skirt, her blouse, and bra all were gone, leaving her completely naked while Draco sat on top of her, completely clothed and nearly all the way buttoned.
Hermione let out a pitiful noise and moved to cover herself, not sure about the abruptness of her nakedness, but Draco wasn’t having it. He dove forward, snatching one wrist and pinning it to the bed while the other held her hips down, his thumb coasting along skin that was dangerously close to where she wanted him the most.
“Don’t act shy for me now, darling,” Draco said coyly, his lips and teeth nipping at her neck and breasts while she squirmed underneath him. “You’re so close to being where you want to be. Let me put you there, baby. Let me make your brain quiet while your body sings.” His voice turned soothing while his hand began to drift down the inside of her thigh, his fingers gently grazing hot, wet skin. “Let me take care of you, Hermione.”
She couldn’t stop her legs from falling open to his searching fingers anymore than she could stop the moan from coming out at the feeling of his tongue tracing her breasts.
“That’s my girl,” he crooned, his fingers dipping into the sticky wetness that was still dripping from her. “Let me give you another one. Let me play with your pretty little pussy until you call me the name I want.”
Hermione keened when the pads of his fingers pressed gently against her throbbing clit, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. He swirled his fingers, and Hermione’s eyes rolled in the back of her head. Draco grinned against her nipple, his teeth catching it with a gentle bite at the same time he pushed two fingers into her.
Hermione’s thighs started shaking. “Oh god…”
Draco tutted and removed his fingers, using the wetness he had gathered to swirl far too gently across the top of her clit, now even lighter with his touch. “That’s not my name, baby.”
“D-D-Draco!” Hermione cried, desperate for him to speed up, to press harder, anything to get the wave to finally crest instead of continuing to build again .
The swirling stayed so soft, it was making Hermione’s thighs were now vibrating with tension, her hips circling in desperation.
Draco’s voice was equally as soft as his hands when he replied, “No, baby. Not that one.” He gently tapped a single finger against her clit, causing Hermione to cry out and buck her hips, but he continued on, saying, “I know you want to come from my fingers, my darling girl. Call me what I want to be called and I’ll make you come.”
Hermione’s teeth were pressed tightly together while he played with her pussy, dropping his fingers slightly to tease around her outer lips, his fingers just barely dipping into her before retreating entirely.
“Please,” Hermione moaned, her brain not functioning. What was she supposed to be calling him again? All she could think about was the need to come, the need for him to circle faster, fuck his fingers into her deeper. Anything to get the wave to crest.
Draco moved his fingers to her clit and swirled them viciously before growling into her neck, “ Fucking call me Daddy then, you needy, fucking witch, or I’ll stop and tie you to this bed and edge you a thousand more times.”
His words made Hermione scream from behind clenched teeth, feeling herself clench on nothing while her clit throbbed and begged for just the tiniest hint of stimulation to push her over the edge. She couldn’t think, let alone speak.
Faster and faster, he started circling his fingers, pressing them just ever so slightly against her swollen bud, building her up. “You’re so close, baby. I can tell. Call me daddy and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you so wet that I can just slide right in. Then you’ll come all over my cock, just like the good girl I know you are.”
It was beginning to zip through Hermione like a lightning bolt, and she was desperate for it. With pleading eyes, she cried softly, “Please, Daddy,” and Draco’s fingers sped up the perfect amount to cause her entire nervous system to focus on her center as fireworks exploded beneath her skin.
Hermione’s head kicked back, her throat working as she moaned, shaking and trembling as Draco’s fingers found themselves fucking into her pussy. The entire time, Hermione gasped and cried out into his neck.
Draco quickly moved his body to settle over hers, his hands everywhere. “Love getting you ready,” he groaned, kissing up her breast and neck before assaulting her mouth once more. He nipped her lip, breathing into her how beautiful she looked when she came, how fucking good she was going to feel when he slid his cock into her, and Hermione whispered just as filthy of things back, lost in him.
“Going to fuck you so good, baby,” he moaned, reaching between them to run his cock up and down her folds.
Hermione keened, back, “Please, Daddy, please fuck me. Please fill me up. I’ve felt so empty for so long, oh Merlin, please.”
“Fuck you until you’re branded by me,” he breathed, his free hand coasting up her throat. His tongue licked up her mouth, dipping in to taste her sloppily while his hips worked his cockhead to her opening. He used her slick to slide just barely in and out, making Hermione delirious with want. “Tie you to this bed until you know what you are to me.”
“Yes,” Hermione gasped in response. “I’m yours. I’m yours. God, please just make me yours. ”
They were delirious, caught in their chemistry of his dominance and her submission.
With a hand on her throat and the other caging her in from beside her head, Draco slowly pushed inside, his eyes wide and caught in her own while they panted into each other’s mouths, moaning and licking at each other with each gained inch.
When he was fully seated, Hermione sobbed, the pressure unlike anything she’d ever felt. Draco hissed into her neck, bending low over her to fully cover her with his body.
Turning his head to kiss her cheek, he whispered against her skin, “Are you ready, love?”
If Hermione hadn’t been sold on Draco before, she most certainly was at that moment. “Please, Daddy,” she sobbed back, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as her shaking hands framed his face.
Draco began slow and sensual, his hips dragging back and forth against hers, pulling moans from Hermione’s throat each time his pelvis ground against her clit. His hands squeezed at every inch of her. The hand at her throat moved to her shoulder, pushing her down into the mattress. The other hand fell to her hip, his grip pulsing with each glide of his cock in and out of her. It was all maddening, the feel of his hands groping her while he slowly became more forceful, fucking her harder and harder while his words found their way to her.
“So fucking good,” he ground out, his thumb digging into her hip. “So fucking precious, making your pussy so messy for me.”
“You’re so tight, babygirl,” he crooned, his fingers trailing over her breasts only to squeeze and lick them. “Such a pretty little body, just made for taking my cock.”
“I’ll never forget the look on your face while I slid into you for the first time, darling,” he growled, nipping at her throat while Hermione moaned, pinned to the mattress by his weight and his words. “You’re such a good girl for taking my big fat cock when you’ve got such a tight, tight little pussy.”
Hermione was inconsolable. She was sobbing out responses of yes, Daddy, please, and oh god.
It felt like forever and no time at all that Hermione felt that tell-tale sign of an approaching orgasm. Her head started kicking back and forth, her words a jumbled mess while she clung to Draco’s neck, her mouth working over his shoulder.
“Oh fuck– Daddy, please, I–”
“Are you going to come, babygirl?” Draco purred, his head picking up to look her in the eye. He held her face and started really working his hips, fucking into her so expertly she swore she was seeing stars. “Is Daddy going to make you come again?”
“Yesss,” Hermione hissed, her word getting cut off with a high-pitched moan, her hips starting to twitch beneath his.
“I’m going to come with you,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth, his eyes a liquid silver. “Tell me where I can come, baby. Tell me where you want me to paint you.”
“In–in–inside! On–I’m on the– potion!” Hermione cried out, feeling like she was going to choke on air if the sensations within her built even more before exploding.
Draco groaned with pleasure, his fingers sliding into her hair while his other slammed to her hips and held them still, forcing her to take him how he wanted her to. “That’s it, darling. I can feel it coming. Come on Daddy’s cock.”
He kept talking her through the build up, kissing her cheeks and lips with little pecks and flicks of his tongue. “That’s it, there you go, baby. You’re so close, my sweet girl,” he whispered, watching as Hermione’s eyes widened at her impending release. “Show me how sweet you can be for me, baby. Come for Daddy like the good girl that you are.”
It cracked through Hermione like lightning this time, yet everything nearly went dark as her body fell limp to the pleasure that barrelled through her. This was truly the most intense orgasm of her life.
Draco choked on his next moan, his hips stuttering as he came with a groan, his head falling to the crook in her neck. His hips slowed, pulsing in and out of her center while their breaths slowed, their bodies still vibrating from their releases.
Hermione was so spent that it was no surprise to her when looking back that her head lolled to the side, and she fell promptly asleep.
When Hermione awoke, it was to the feeling of someone trailing their fingers through her curls.
She slowly blinked her eyes open to a dimly lit room, candles being the only light source, and gradually became more aware of the fingers working out the tangles she had with the lightest of touches, fingers moving through her thick tresses and trailing down her neck like they didn’t want to wake her.
When she looked up, still half-asleep, she was shocked fully awake to see a softly smiling Draco Malfoy laying on his side, his head propped up by his fist while his other hand disappeared into the hair laying across his chest.
Immediately, Hermione tensed, but she didn’t move any further. Not when the memories of their previous activities came flooding back to her, and the only thing covering her being a thin, silk sheet.
How in the world had she ended up exactly where she wanted to be, was all she could think.
“Hello,” Draco said quietly, breaking Hermione from her internal dissection. His eyes roved across her face in a way that was almost wistful for a moment or two, his mouth setting into more of a grim line than a smile. When they finally returned to hers, she saw how guarded he was.
“Hello,” Hermione returned softly, settling back gently into the pillows she was resting against, feeling nervous.
Still, Draco didn’t remove his hand, nor did he stop trailing his fingers through her hair while he said rather carefully, “I know that a lot happened last night. It was intense and rather quick– much quicker than I would have liked to have started this.”
Swallowing after taking a deep breath, he continued, his eyes moving to stare at his hands in her hair. “I won’t hold you to anything you said last night. If it was in the heat of the moment and if you’re having second thoughts, I’ll understand with no hard feelings.”
Hermione’s stomach completely fell out from underneath her. Peering up at him and feeling rather small, she asked, “Are…are you having any second thoughts about last night?”
His eyes immediately sought hers, bright and filled with conviction. “Absolutely not, Granger. I meant every word I said last night. Every word.”
Her flush took over her cheeks and neck when she said, “Well, I did too.”
Draco’s tension immediately dissipated, and he broke out into a soft, wondrous look. “You’re positive?” Running his hand up and down her uncovered arm now, he said somewhat unsurely, “I know that we both said a lot of things but if you’re–”
“Draco,” Hermione said softly, rolling over onto her side. She slowly grasped his hand, now free of her curls, and smiled shyly up at him, letting the bit of hope that had started to grow last night fully blossom. “I’d like to be with you in any capacity you’d have me, if that’s alright with you.”
Draco blinked rapidly at her before barking out a laugh. Then, without warning he wrapped his arms around her and hauled Hermione into his lap.
“Draco!” she screeched, but she really didn’t care, giggling at the way he held her to him and simply breathed, running his nose up and down the back of her neck.
“Hush,” he responded, nipping at her throat. He turned her in his lap and said rather seriously, his hands coasting over her cheeks to push her hair back from her face, “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this, Granger. Now that I have it, I’m going to milk it for every second that it’s still mine.”
“I think I can handle that,” Hermione whispered, grinning as she inched up to press her lips to his jaw. “I think I’d quite like that, actually.”
“Would you, now,” Draco murmured, squeezing her closer.
“I would,” Hermione whispered, biting her lip as she drew back to watch his reaction to her next words. “I really would like it… Daddy.”
Draco’s eyes became silver once more, and with a chuckle and kiss against her cheek, he whispered back, “Anything for my baby girl.”