Actions

Work Header

Dabbles of Dramione

Summary:

A plethora of drabbles (all Dramione) of varying length. No update schedule. Relevant side-ships and warnings will be listed in the author's note.

Notes:

Hello there! Welcome to my little collection, where I will randomly post little (or large) drabbles whenever I feel like it, so no update schedule. I have no beta, thus all mistakes are mine. Comments and Kudos would be much appreciated and thank you for reading!

Chapter 1: Who She Wanted

Summary:

Side-ships: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley/Padma Patil
Warning: Panic Attack

Chapter Text

As of yet, Hermione couldn't find a reason to regret attending the Malfoys' Christmas Ball. Mrs Malfoy and Draco had been wonderfully polite, Draco and she had entered into their usual banter and shared a few dances. And damn, didn't he look handsome. Well, they had been working together for two years, good coworkers and even better just friends.

And the gathering was not mostly made up of Slytherins and purebloods, as she had earlier nervously, foolishly thought, rather several of their coworkers, Draco's family, friends- both his and hers- and then people who they had probably called out of etiquette.

She had a glass of wine in her hand, had eagerly chatted with Neville about a cross-breeding of Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacula, congratulated Pansy and Harry on the former's pregnancy and made conversation with Ron and his fiance, Padma.

It started when the party was winding down.

She had made all socially necessary small talk with most of the guests, except a few here and there. Hermione was just planning to leave when she saw the catalyst.

Hermione had met her a few times before she, Harry and Ron had gone on the run, even nearby. But that had been before Bellatrix.

Andromeda Black Tonks.

Andromeda resembled her late sister Bellatrix immensely; both had piercingly blue eyes, dark brown hair, and the haughty expression, though Andromeda wore it better and much more gently.

Hermione knew Andromeda wasn't Bellatrix, but the moment she spotted her, Hermione's mind dragged her back in time.

Where did you get this sword from?! Crucio!

She was eighteen again, terrified and dirty, lying on the floor of Malfoy Manor, under the wand of Bellatrix and the pain.

She watched Andromeda roll her eyes at something Molly said before the pair of them laughed. Both of the older witches grew blurry in her eyesight and her shaking hands and shoulders carelessly dropped the glass, and she faintly registered the sound of the glass smashing as she darted towards the doors.

She slid down the walls of the hallway outside the ballroom and huddled into herself, cracked sobs tearing out of her throat one by one. Her arms and legs curved into herself, the attempt to protect herself from her trauma barely working.

You are lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts!

"Granger?" She dimly heard a voice ask.

When she coaxed her heavy, tear-soaked lids to open, she recognized Draco by his most identifying parts; his pale blonde hair, the soft, silvery glint of his intense steel eyes, and his pale complexion.

She mumbled something, the weak sound not quite as loud as her heavy breaths and her heart pumping louder than a drum.

She faintly recognized Draco hesitantly rubbing her arms, from her shoulders to her wrists and a shudder passed through her entire body. From her panic attack. Definitely from her panic attack.

"Do you want me to go get someone else?" His gravelly voice was not quite its usual drawl.

She knew Harry was still here, probably christening some poor closet or something in one of the Manor's many rooms with Pansy, the former having been there for many of her breakdowns. If she said yes for Harry, Draco would go find him for her in a heartbeat.

But Harry was not who she wanted right now, no. She wanted Draco to be her knight in shining armour right now, chasing away her nightmares. She wanted his comfort, his fingers, which were rubbing a hypnotizing pattern into the back of her neck.

We found it, please!

She crawled into his lap as much as she could and shook her head into his shoulder because honestly, she could not care about propriety right now, and she guessed he probably didn't either.

He brought his arms around her trembling form, and she felt a small, gentle kiss being pressed against her temple, hesitantly. His arms around her loosened, as if he expected her to jerk away from him, but that was the last thing she wanted.

She angled her face upwards and towards his lips, but he took her chin in his hand, stopping her.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, the shape of the words breathed onto her mouth.

"Yes," she sighed.

A beat, then—

He pressed his lips to hers, soft and supple as he devoured her mouth. His touch was entirely reverent, as he stroked and licked with his tongue, bit and suckled with his teeth, and made her soul shiver.

This, she thought, tangling her fingers into his silky soft hair, This changes everything.

 

Chapter 2: An Illusory Death

Summary:

Warning: Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death

Chapter Text


She slid down the length of the wall, tears welling up in her eyes. Her hands carefully cradled the lifeless cat, his eyes glassy as he lay limp.

Dead. Crookshanks was dead.

A whimper tore out of her throat, and she let go of his body, for it to bounce on her stomach, swollen from her second pregnancy, and drop onto her lap.

With an anguished cry, she tenderly stroked the rough fur, ran her fingers over his soft nose, though it felt like foam, she thought confusedly.

She heard him before she saw him; her husband's footsteps, having heard her sorrowful noises of distress.

He sat down beside her and curled his arm around her shaking shoulders, as she looked at him; eyes glassy with glittering tears, flushed cheeks and trembling lips.

He slowly, lightly rubbed her shoulders with one hand and pulled the cat away from her, inch by inch, trying very hard to keep her calm, lest he spark her fiery temper, already irritable from her multiple bouts of morning sickness.

"Hermione," Draco said gently, "Why are you hugging and crying over Scorpius's stuffed cat toy?"

Chapter 3: The Failed Scoop

Chapter Text

Rita slammed an elbow into the Ministry Security Guard's ribs, and darted after the Granger girl, intending to get even a scoop for her article. Either that or she'd have to do some heavy editing.

"Ms Granger, are you dating ex-death eater Mafoy just to restore his image out of pity?!" She called out.

Granger hissed, annoyed, and turned around abruptly, making Rita slam into her very tiny boobs. Hopefully, she would tell the whole truth of their fake dating plan out of annoyance.

Muddy brown eyes flashing in annoyance, the mud- muggle-born said in a cold voice, "Listen, Skeeter—"

"—Ms Skeeter, if you please," she said smoothly, smirking.

"—Ms Skeeter, it is wholly obvious you did not obtain an O in transfiguration in your N.E.W.T.s or O.W.L.s at all—"

Rita set about stating her patently false knowledge in transfiguration and how she had proved it in her exams. She left out the parts about cheating.

"—Because, if you had, you would have done something about your face—"

Well, that was rude. Of course, she had done something about her face. She had gotten the mud- muggle-style plastic surgery on her nose.

"Your nose in particular, since it can't seem to stay out of other people's business. Mine and Draco's as of now!"

The security guards, having interrupted their chase of the beetle—err, human—in pursuit of a man begging Harry Potter to adopt him as a son, returned with full annoyance.

"Take this bothersome beetle away, gentlemen!" The gold-digger snapped.

Needless to say, Rita did not get her scoop.

Chapter 4: Lyra's Birthday

Summary:

Side-ship: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy

Chapter Text

"Absolutely not. I'm not doing it." Lucius interrupted his daughter-in-law before she could finish her sentence.

"Think about how upset Lyra would be, and how her birthday party would be ruined." Hermione implored.

"I don't bloody care if the girl we hired is coming or not! I'm not dressing up like that cheap-looking tart my granddaughter is obsessed with!" He grumbled, annoyed.

Lyra chose that moment to bound into the kitchen where Lucius was arguing and definitely winning with Hermione.

"Mummy, when's Barbie coming? I wanna see her!" She demanded.

Hermione shot him a look before telling her, "I'm sure Barbie will be here soon. Shouldn't you be with Nana Cissa and your friends,

darling?"

"Okay, mummy!" she said enthusiastically, bouncing back to the deck where Narcissa was serving cupcakes to Lyra's primary school friends.

"I would have asked Narcissa, but she's chaperoning the girls," Hermione said, her tone beseeching.

Lucius gave an exaggerated sigh, then grudgingly responded, "Fine."

 


 

It was not fine. It was horrid and the pink clashed horribly with his hair and his knees were visible.

To be clear, he was talking about the dress Hermione had forced him into, stifling a giggle.

Even worse, he had had his hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing bright, pink high heels which bloody hurt.

He admired Narcissa a lot right now.

All he had to do was go out there, give a wish to the birthday girl, give her the hideous plastic tiara—and no he couldn't replace it with a better one from the Malfoy vaults—and give a little speech about the power of friendship, then sprinkle a jar of pink powder around him and disapparate.

Simple. Easy to do.

He was a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! He was a leader! People feared his very surname! Granted the last thing he'd led was Death eaters to capture a prophecy- still, this was simple.

He straightened his gaudy gold necklace then stepped out into the deck.

Chapter 5: The Ungayment of Draco Malfoy

Notes:

In case some of you feel I am being sexist or sexuality-shaming, I implicitly state: I respect all forms of sexuality, this is just something my brain wouldn't kick out of my head.

Chapter Text

"Why are you gay?"

The question was unexpectedly thrown at him without any warning over Monday breakfast, and Draco looked up from his eggs and toast after he was finished choking over it and across the table to glare at Theo.

"I'm not gay!" he scowled.

Theo was looking at him, eyes widened mournfully, but Draco knew better. He would say mischievously.

Beside Theo, Blaise snickered. "It's not like you're being your usual flirty self," he said, poorly attempting to look off thoughtfully into the distance.

"Maybe because I'm not interested in any chasing any vapid airheads?" He glowered.

Theo sighed dramatically. "Don't you miss the taste of boobs?" he said beseechingly.

"I. Am. Straight." He said coldly. Getting up from the table, he—

—bumped into his Co-head, who fell backwards, pulling him down with her, his face ironically wedged into her boobs, which he had to admit were rather soft and supple.

He jumped up as if he was on fire, and immediately offered her his hand. She accepted his stammered apology and hand and ran off, after eyeing him.

Theo snorted. "Mate, I didn't mean right now. If you wanted to cop a feel of Granger's chest, you could've done it properly."

Draco glared at him, worthy of Snape's and his father's combined, shot a stinging hex and stormed off.

Her mounds were supple and soft

Shut up.

 


 

McGonagall was explaining some sort of detailed law in transfiguration in Tuesday's class when Theo leaned over and whispered, "Cock is great too, but only when a hot girl has yours in her mouth."

Draco's quill ruptured the parchment and formed an inkblot. "What the fuck, Theo?! I'm fucking straight!" he hissed.

"At least tell me you got a hard-on from smashing your face in Granger's tits," he murmured.

Had they been erect?

"Shut the fuck up about Granger's tits!"

He didn't realize he'd bellowed his reply until the whole class was staring at him. McGonagall looked like she was gonna lose her shit, Potter and Weasley looked furious, and Granger- damn her- was smirking.

"Anything you would like to share with us, Mr Malfoy?" McGonagall asked curtly.

"No, professor," he grumbled, sinking low into his seat. He kept his head down for the rest of class. Literally. And wished he could curse Theo for the sniggers he kept hearing every few minutes.

 


 

Fuck Theo. Fuck Theo to infinity and beyond. Worst Wednesday ever.

He was lying on a bed in the Infirmary, shirtless, the skin on his chest an angry red, when the sodding bastard visited, whistling cheerfully.

"Theo, what the fuck?" He groused.

"I just want to check on my friend," he said blithely.

"You fucking burned my chest in the first fucking place," He snapped.

"Did I?" He used his horrible 'innocent face' card.

Granger rounded the corner, a jar of healing salve in her hand, and Theo had the fucking nerve to smirk and say, "Granger. Didn't know you were on healing duty,"

She sighed and said, "Nott, let me do my work."

He smirked again and said, "As you can see, my boy Draco has hurt himself. Very fortunate you were here."

She rolled her eyes and Draco's suspicions grew.

As her hands rubbed the salve along his chest, he couldn't help but think how soothing and arousing it was and how her hands would feel elsewhere and—

—and he had to think about Weasley to fade his growing erection. Did she notice? (Fuck. She did. Occlude!)

When she was done, he shuddered in relief. Definitely relief, and almost bolted from the hospital. He wanked off to her, and repressed the urge to hex Theo when the git smirked at his flushed face.

 


 

Theo struck again on Thursday's mixed Slytherin and Gryffindor class of Defense Against Dark Arts. The Professor was describing how Aurors used to ride dragons to defeat dark wizards in the early ages of magic.

Some idiotic starry-eyed Hufflepuff called out that Potter, Weasley and Granger had already ridden one and wasn't that so cool?

Theo—fucking Theo—said, "If there's another dragon Granger wants to ride, he's right here!" Then slapped Draco's back heartily.

He pulled Theo aside right after class ended. "What the fuck are you trying to do?" He hissed.

"I'm un-gaying you, you git." He smirked.

That smirk—that fucking smirk—the one he wanted to punch off Theo's face pushed him over the edge.

"I AM NOT GAY." He proclaimed.

Then to prove his point, he grabbed the first person that came out of the classroom and kissed him/her.

It was not Weasley, thank Merlin, nor Potter.

Granger. He was kissing Granger. Her lips were so soft and tasted like honey and—

—and he pulled away and glared at Theo. "See?!" He demanded, his voice, gruff. "Not. Gay."

Theo opened his mouth to make some other stupid remark, but it had to wait because Granger pulled his tie towards her, muttered,

"Get back here, Malfoy," before pressing herself back against him.

He ignored the wolf-whistles, cheers and Potter's and Weasley's groans, and followed orders.

Chapter 6: Hermione's Cock

Summary:

Side-ship: Theo Nott/Blaise Zabini

Chapter Text


Hermione stormed out of Malfoy Manor and to the Manor's large backyard. She pointed a quick sonorus to her throat. In her incandescent rage, she did not notice the third figure in the sky was missing.

"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW OR I WILL BE LIABLE TO THROW HEXES. GIVE ME BACK MY COCK RIGHT NOW. YOU KNOW I NEED IT TO PLAY AND YOUR PETTY PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVENESS HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH. IF YOU DON'T RIGHT NOW, I WILL WITHHOLD SEX."

A moment passed, then a voice boomed down from the sky, unmistakably not Draco's.

"GRANGER, I'M AFRAID DRACO'S SCRUMPTIOUS ASS HAS GONE TO THE LOO."

Oh, God. Blaise.

"AND BY COCK, I ABSOLUTELY MEAN SHUTTLECOCK. FOR BADMINTON."

"YOU COULD JUST ANGRY SHAG DRACO INSTEAD- MAYBE SOMETHING TO HIS ASS THIS TIME- LIKE BLAISE SUGGESTED? NOW MIGHT BE A GOOD TIME TO TRY SPANKING, GIVEN YOUR MOOD."

She sighed. There was Theo's crassness. Honestly, the two were perfect for each other.

"I'LL GO FIND HIM. THANKS."

A snicker.

Chapter 7: The Enemy Trap

Chapter Text

Draco walked into Hermione's flat, the Chinese food which she had requested in hand, expecting to see her waiting for their usual lunch. Instead of his girlfriend,—

"Potter?" He asked indignantly. "What are you doing here?"

The Boy-Who-Probably-Barged-In was sitting as cosy as he could be, watching some muggle sports, a bottle of wine on the table. He silenced the contraption and stared at Draco suspiciously. "Malfoy? I thought Hermione said she was going to be running late and told me to let myself in."

Draco rolled his eyes. His witch had the subtlety of a mountain troll. He turned around to leave but a click from the closed door heightened his suspicions. He strode to the door and attempted to tug it open but it was locked from the outside.

"A variation of the locking spell, for half an hour. Potter, unlock the door. Granger told me to leave my wand." He said shortly.

The Chosen Git gaped at him like a fish. "Hermione told me that too!" He exclaimed. "She's Parent Trapped us! But in an enemies way," he added as an afterthought.

Though he didn't know whatever the fuck that meant, it probably was some inane muggle phrase relevant to their situation and rolled his eyes. "Evidently, Potter." He drawled.

He set the bag down on the coffee table and sat on the couch, as far away from his nemesis as possible.

Potter gaped at the Chinese, too. "Is that—" then rattled off the same name the shop owner had said which he couldn't be bothered to try to understand. "That's my favourite!" He cocked his head and pushed the bottle of wine near Draco "Is this your favourite wine or something?" He attempted to gaze coyly at Draco, but to him, it looked like a creepy squint.

Draco begrudgingly picked up the bottle and examined it.

"Chardonnay, 1994? That's!—" He cleared his throat. "I know that wine," he said blandly.

Draco glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. What on Earth was he supposed to do with the next twenty?

Chapter 8: The Best Howler Ever

Chapter Text

Hermione plopped down at the Gryffindor table next to Ginny, drawing a plate of eggs and bacon towards her. "Good morning!" She said brightly.

The redhead grimaced. She glowered at her coffee as if it had personally insulted her. "'S not working," she mumbled.

Hermione beamed. "What's not working?"

"The coffee. I still feel like there's a centaur stampede in my head."

Hermione sighed. "To be fair, you knew you knew you were going to have a massive hangover when you organized the Gryffindor end-of-exams party."

Ginny groaned and thumped her head on the table, narrowly avoiding the coffee. "I think some Slytherins might have snuck in from their party but I might have hallucinated it. Might've been a strip dance too. Should've been there."

Hermione slurped her orange juice, loud enough to make Ginny whimper. "Well, I had a lovely night. Draco was at his party- pity, I wanted to go over the Arithmancy essay with him- nonetheless, I finished it without him Then, I had the Head's common room to myself the whole night so I reorganized my books."

Ginny turned her head to look at her. "Why're you so cheerful?"

Hermione sighed again. "It's a beautiful morning, and I'm going to spend the rest of it studying subjects I love. Need I say more?"

Ginny squinted. "Didja get fucked?"

Hermione choked. "Goodness, no! Why on Earth would you say that?"

Ginny shrugged. "You have that glow. The 'I just got boned until I can't walk straight' one."

Hermione gave a trilling laugh "I have a feeling today is going to be a beautiful—"

An elegant eagle owl flew down to the table, a smoking red letter in its beak. Both the girls looked at it curiously. Actually, Hermione did, and Ginny looked like she was debating whether or not to skewer it.

"Fuck," Ginny cursed. "I'm going to murder Ron for telling mum I smoked."

"Is that-" Hermione began, but she was cut off when it burst open.

"HEY GRANGER!" The howler screamed. "I'M SO DRUNK RIGHT NOW. SO LIKE, I FANCY YOU, SSHHH. IT'S A SECRET. DON'T TELL ANYONE. SUCH A FEISTY GRANGER, SMART GRANGER, SEXY GRANGER— DAMMIT BLAISE, GIMME BACK MY QUILL. REALLY WANNA FUCK YOU—" Followed by some unintelligible mutters. "I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS IN ADVANCE, GRANGER." A smooth voice drawled.

"Oh god," Hermione whispered, her face redder than Ginny's hair.

She looked over to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy looked like someone had told him he had to give a speech naked, and beside him, Zabini who looked bemused.

"Bahahahahahaha—" Ginny burst out. "This is the best shit ever."

"Shut up, Ginny," Hermione muttered, elbowing her.

"Best howler ever," Ginny said, wiping tears from her face.

Chapter 9: A Dress With Buttons

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Potter. I see you still have the most horrendous taste in fashion." Draco smirked as he stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his clothes.

Harry rolled her eyes. "Malfoy. I see you've tempered down the poncy urge to wear a tuxedo everywhere you go. As if you don't know having children will result in you being covered in food all the time."

Draco rolled his eyes and nodded his head, stepping aside as Hermione stepped out in a burst of green fire. "Ah, a change of topic to divert the fact you can't dress to save your life. I am a Slytherin after all. I practically invented it."

Hermione gave an exaggerated sigh. "Please don't do this today of all days. Please let's just enjoy lunch in peace."

Harry clutched the pasta necklace James had made for him and made a face of mock horror. "Hermione, this is just banter—"

"Daddy, is miss Herminny here?!" A voice shouted from upstairs.

"Yeah, James!" Harry shouted back.

There was a whoop then the sound of feet pattering down the stairs.

He made a face at Hermione. "He's been bothering me the whole morning asking."

Draco smirked as they made their way to the dining room. "It's because he knows how sexy she is. Ow, Hermione! No pinches!"

Harry gritted his teeth as he cast a warming charm over the spaghetti. "He's six, Malfoy—"

"Daddy, lunchtime?" James said, bouncing into the room.

"Thank god for small mercies," Hermione muttered.

Harry peered at him. "Yeah. Did you put away your toys?"

The little boy nodded. "I putted all of them away, daddy."

James looked bashfully at Hermione. "Hello, miss Herminny."

She bent down and smiled brightly. "Hello, James!"

He pulled out a crumpled rose from his pocket and thrust it at her. "For you, miss Herminny."

Harry elbowed Draco when he heard the muttered Your kid is stealing my wife.

Hermione beamed and tucked it into her hair. "Thank you, James."

She made to straighten when he tugged at her dress. She looked at him.

"Your buttons are shiny," he told her. "Can I touch?"

"Sure," She said.

His hands went straight to her tits, and he rubbed them. The buttons, to be clear.

"Hey!" Draco objected. "Get your hands off my wife! Potter, do not glare at me like that."

He pulled Hermione back, who bit her lip, eyes sparkling. He did not find this as hilarious as she did.

"James, dear," Hermione said, amused, "Why don't you look at my pretty watch instead?"

Draco glared at Potter junior. "If you want a girl, then go for Loony's kid. Not my wife."

The child looked to be on the verge of tears. "I just wanted to touch the buttons." Now he burst into tears.

Harry glared at Draco, who looked properly abashed and muttered, "Bollocks."

He mouthed a curse then pulled the child into the other room to calm the upset child.

Hermione turned to Draco and rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to upset him."

He stepped closer, his eyes dark. "He was touching your tits. Nobody is allowed to touch them except me. They're mine. "

Hermione tried to muster up some degree of annoyance, but goddammit he was so hot when he got possessive. "He's a child. "

Her voice still came out shaky though.

His lips were barely inches from hers. "Even then. You're—"

Harry's voice came through. "Oye! No snogging in my house, you two!"

Chapter 10: A Caramel Dairy Milk

Summary:

Side-ship: Hogwarts Alumnus/Veela

Chapter Text

It had been half an hour since they'd stood at the painting of some Hogwarts alumnus guarding the eighth year common room—who had long since vanished within a veela's two corridors beyond, whom he was 'dating'.

Half an hour of arguing about whose fault it had been.

Malfoy had groaned, "We would've been on time if it wasn't due to your bloody map."

He was referring to her extremely detailed map of all the most important corridors, alcoves and classrooms they had to check, including several popular snogging spots.

And she had grumbled and said, "I wouldn't have had to make a map if you didn't try to take the shortest route possible and skive off early."

But deep down, the truth, she knew, was that they had simply treated tonight's rounds like a game of cat and mouse; she had dragged him along the routes in her map, he had spotted one of his shorter routes and tried to sneak off, she spotted him, they argued for a bit before relenting and A) she grudgingly took his path or B) he muttered some curses before trudging after her.

Before they knew it, it had been after midnight when they reached the portrait guarding the common room and promptly got stuck outside- no matter how many unlocking spells she tried. (The room was warded by McGonagall herself anyways, to automatically lock in case any tipsy eighth year who had ignored curfew tried to force their way inside; courtesy of Zabini.)

Hermione sighed and transfigured her jumper into a squashy purple sleeping bag, before dropping onto it. She cleared her throat, so that Malfoy looked down at her, then patted the space beside her. He looked at the empty canvas a moment longer, as if debating arson, then slumped beside her.

"Hey," she said, nudging his knee.

"Ow. What, Granger?" He frowned at her.

"I've got a dairy milk. bar Want half?" She dug out the hunk of chocolate she'd charmed to stay cool from her pocket.

He squinted at it. "What's that?"

She rolled her eyes. "A chocolate. Obviously. "

"Muggle?" He asked.

Her shoulders dropped, as if she was disappointed for some absurd reason, and her palms felt hot and clammy holding it out like a fool. She made to shove it back in her pocket. "Never mind," she muttered.

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, and his hand felt smooth and warm wrapped around her. "Granger, wait. I'll have it."

The bright purple letters declaring the name of the candy blurred.

"It's fine Malfoy—"

"Don't chicken out on me, Granger," he said and grabbed her wrist, ripping open the wrapper with his teeth, biting a chunk off, his lips brushing her fingers.

Her heart stuttered.

He chewed and raised his eyebrow at her. "Caramel?"

"It's my favourite," she admitted, her cheeks stained red.

He flashed a wide grin. "Mine too."

 


 

McGonagall found them in the morning, curled into each other in a single purple sleeping bag in front of the portrait for the eighth year common room.

His head was buried in the crook of her neck, arms slung around her hips. She was curled into him, their legs tangled together.

She stared for a minute, before the corners of her lips curved upwards slightly. Then, walked away.

Chapter 11: The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword

Summary:

Side-ship: Theo Nott/Harry Potter

Chapter Text

The pen is mightier than the sword.

As Theo had predicted before they started the 'practice', Granger and Draco predictably burst into an argument across each other on their shared couch in the room. He winked at Potter and mouthed told you so, who rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Obviously the pen—"

"The actual object which can cause harm—"

"Sticks and stones may break—"

"A proverb?!—"

"Bloody hell," Potter groaned. "I can't even tell who's going to win the debate competition between you two, you argue like shit."

Despite himself, Theo chuckled and leaned over to kiss his temple."With their need to fight every other minute? You should have called it."

He rolled his eyes. "Technically, you did."

"For fuck's sake, Theo," Draco muttered, as did Hermione, "It's Hogwarts' first debate competition!"

"Ah yes," he nodded. "And since you're the top swot, you have to swot it out in this too."

"Hey, I'm second to her," Draco added (unnecessarily).

"So you're participating in the name of your competitiveness?" Potter grinned.

"That, and if either of us wins, there's a bet in place. Don't think you'll want to know the terms- Ow, Granger, that hurts!" He leered the last part, then rubbed his arm, failing to look excessively pathetic in Theo's opinion.

She glared half-heartedly at the blonde.

"Hey," he picked up their list of debate topics, attempting to change the topic. "You didn't finish the debate."

They both ceased their eye-fucking to swivel their heads at him.

"Pen." said Hermione as Draco declared, "Sword."

She huffed and he groaned.

"Tell me this, Granger, how can a pen hurt someone?" He snarked.

"How about this?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. Picking up the pen kept on the paper with her notes, she stabbed the tip into his thigh.

"Oww," he whined. "That hurt. Were you trying to castrate me or something?"

She giggled, then conspiratorily whispered, "I can't, I adore your cock too much."

That was too much for Theo. He made a choking sound as Potter groaned and clapped his hands over his ears.

Draco merely smirked and instantly sought her lips. After a minute, the Malfoy heir's hand snaked its way to her skirt.

Potter groaned and tugged Theo out. He tossed a "Ciao, lovebirds!", leaving the amorous couple to their devices.

Chapter 12: Nike Sneakers

Chapter Text

He stared at his feet forlornly and made a face. "What are these called again?"

Granger taped the last of the wrapping paper for Potter's birthday gift and made a sound of annoyance. "They're a brand of sneakers named Nike, Draco."

He made another face. "They have two tails."

Her head snapped up "I thought you tied the shoelaces?"

He tugged at his collar. "I did— they came off again."

She huffed and moved to his seat on the couch. She kneeled in front of him.

He smirked and leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. "By all means, blow me, Granger."

She swatted his knee. "Prat. Raise your leg."

She manoeuvred his foot onto her thigh, and his breath hitched. Her fingers made a quick motion, looping the white string into a bow, then did the other foot.

She looked up at him slowly and bit her lip, eyes dark. "Would it be terribly impolite if we were late by a few minutes for Harry's birthday?"

He grinned wolfishly. "Potter will live."

Then yanking her to her feet, he pulled her into his lap, seating her on his growing erection and pulling her head to hers.

Chapter 13: Soon

Summary:

Warning: Implied/Referenced Torture

Chapter Text

He lurched in, his entire body is convulsing. He stumbled and collapsed onto the carpet, spitting out blood.

She shook herself awake and hurried to his side. Her wand was already in her hand, as was a pain-numbing potion.

He took the flask in his trembling hands and swallowed it in long gulps.

"How many times?" she whimpered.

His steele-grey eyes matched hers, and she knew what form his response would take. He lost count—

"—after eight," he grunted hoarsely.

She helped him to the bed, his lean frame leaning on her wearily, and she undresseed him for bed carefully, softly, his thumb smoothing away each tear at the sight of every wound.

She delicately moulded herself against him and run her fingers through his silk-soft hair. He wounded her curls around his fingers.

"When?" she whispered.

"Soon," he breathed.

Chapter 14: An Honest Woman

Summary:

Side-ship: Brigita Zabini/Butler

Chapter Text

"I'm going to murder Pansy." Hermione stumbled into his study, and draped herself over the couch. Her work robes were presumably dropped off somewhere outside.

He looked up from his report, and his mouth quirked into half a smirk. Pushing aside his report he leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up onto the desk, and said, "What'd Pansy do now?"

She kneaded her temple slowly and said, "She made a little trip into my office today. Apparently, she's donating to my Golden Snidget support repository."

He made a humming sort of sound and indicated for her to continue.

"Then she said she was hoping to see you, her friend Brigita wanted to see if she could meet you for lunch, putting substantial emphasis on the fact that she's pureblooded, rich and.. 'actually interested in continuing the Malfoy line.'" There was a tremble on the last few words.

Draco sighed, then crossed the room. He turned her lightly so she was curled into his side. Brushing a few stray tendrils out of her face, he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Brigita Zabini is the dullest airhead I've ever had the misfortune to meet. At my mother's Yule gala last month, she really asked her whether she hired the pixies on the Christmas tree. And the whole reason she's trying to marry is that she's pregnant with her butler's baby, so her parents want to pass off the child as a legitimate son."

Hermione peered up at him. "That's so horrible," she said softly, fingering his jumper.

"Do I need to have a talk with Pansy?" He asked, the arm slung over her shoulder rubbing patterns onto her skin.

She deflated somewhat. "No. I mean, what she did say is true," she muttered.

He grimaced. "Hermione, I don't care at all that you're not ready for children yet. I care about you, and if the Malfoy line ends with me, that's that, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. Her eyes sauntered along to the framed photo of Pansy on the mantle, smirking broadly. She glared at the perpetually beaming woman.

Draco snorted and gently tugged her curls. "If looks could kill...Pansy would've died yesterday."

"No," she responded. "I would've hacked her to death a week ago, cut up her body parts into tiny portions and mailed it to all her idiotic society friends, each with a letter explaining why pureblood society is mind-numbingly horrific."

He huffed out a breathy sort of laugh. "Sounds specific."

"I've given it some consideration."

He snickered at that. "Go right ahead."

She gawked at him, mildly appalled. "Draco! You're an auror you're not supposed to encourage me!"

He rolled his eyes. "Pfftt. I can do whatever I want. If my wife wants to murder my ex-girlfriend, I can most certainly help her." He winked down at her.

She laughed.

"Remember to wear gloves." He whispered into her ear.

She turned her head, facing his chin, matching his tone. "Yeah? What if I get caught?"

He grinned. "Then you'll be the accused victim desperate to do anything to be pardoned, and I'll be the corrupt auror."

She giggled, then climbed into his lap, straddling him. "Auror Malfoy, please let me go free. I'm willing to do anything." she pleaded.

The laughter in his eyes died as they darkened. He raised an eyebrow. "Anything, Miss Granger?" his voice rumbled.

She bit her lip deliberately, and snaked her hand towards his cock.

"Anything," she murmured.

He pulled down his pants and kicked them off, his member straining against his boxers.

"Best get to work then." He groaned. "Prove you're as honest a woman as you say."

She then fell to the floor between his knees, stroking him through the fabric. "Oh, I will. "

She did. Thoroughly.

Chapter 15: The Date

Chapter Text

A shadow cast on her copy of The Sky Is Falling made Hermione sigh audibly then look up. "May I help you?" she asked, snapping the book shut loudly, placing it beside her Starbucks cup.

The table shook from the force of her slam, and a bit of coffee spilled out and onto the cover of her book. She mentally apologized to the book, and not the coffee, because the British had done a horrible job of making it.

The man gave an overconfident smirk and took a seat on the chair across from her. "Cormac Mclaggen. And I believe we can both help each other," he winked.

She gave a bland, polite smile, saying nothing.

He was undeterred, pressing on, "I don't think I've seen you around London before, my uncle's in the Home Ministry and he knows practically everybody. You are...?"

"I'm Hermione. I'm visiting from America," she answered. "Taking a trip away from home." Her fingers twitched and crawled inches towards her book.

He winked. "I'll get straight to the point. I think you're gorgeous. My uncle's hosting another one of his little parties tonight and I know you'd obviously be delighted to be seen with me."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I have a date tonight," she said.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'll give you a better time, c'mon. You're gonna be with Cormac Mclaggen. People are gonna be jealous of you."

Internally, she was already thinking of ways to escape. Instead, she said, "I'm afraid I value Sidney Sheldon, some music and a glass of wine more."

He frowned. "I haven't even heard of this Sheldon bloke. Where's he gonna take you, Olive Garden? It's at a five star hotel, baby. Come on."

His hand reached out to circle her hand, and he leaned in slightly to whisper, "I'll make sure you have a good time. My skills in making sure a lady has a good time are extraordinary."

The double entendre was not unnoticed by her.

She was irritated now. "look, I'm honestly not—"

"I believe the lady said no, Mclaggen. Leave her alone." A new voice drawled.

They both looked at the blonde man at the next table.

Cormac glared. "Fuck off, Malfoy. This is a private matter and none of your business."

Malfoy chuckled, the rich throaty laughter bouncing around the room. "Please, Mclaggen. There's no private business here, you're harassing her."

"Why don't you fuck off and go kill some immigrants, just like your dear old dad did?" Cormac sneered.

Hermione had had enough. "Alright! Cormac, please leave. I don't want to go anywhere with you!" she said heatedly.

"You can join me if you'd like. I'd love to tell you about how my company is helping people all around the globe." Malfoy said pointedly, pulling out another chair.

Cormac laughed humourlessly. "An easy choice. The corrupt minister's son or the important senate's nephew? Fuck off, Malfoy."

Hermione stood up. "I'd actually spend time with someone who's been a perfect gentleman to me thank you," she said coldly.

Cormac's face was stony. "Enjoy spending time with the bastard." he stormed out.

She looked at Malfoy who cocked a finger towards her, and she sat down at his offered seat.

Malfoy huffed out a laugh. "Good riddance."

"Thanks, Malfoy—"

"Draco, please. I'm not my father. And it was my pleasure, truly," he interrupted.

"Well, Draco, he was starting to get annoying, to be honest. And I'm sure it was." she laughed.

He flashed her a grin. Leaning in closer, his breath tickled her ear. "At boarding school, we used to call him feelsy Mclaggen. Disappointing to see he hasn't changed."

She swallowed. "I can imagine why."

He looked down at her copy. "So you have a date with Sidney Sheldon, huh?" he grinned.

She grinned back, like they were both in on a joke. "I do, and I can't wait for it."

He sighed dramatically. "Truly a lucky bloke to be in the company of such a beautiful woman. I envy him."

She giggled. "I'm sure you'll survive somehow."

Chapter 16: The Malfunctioning Memo

Chapter Text

It had been fifteen minutes and despite their yelling and pounding on the door, no one had come to their rescue.

Hermione had tried every unlocking spell she knew, and Malfoy had tried to levitate to the now-wet, dust-coated desk to slam into the door.

They failed. All, the while a sprinkling drizzle showered upon them, drenching them bit by bit.

"This is one fuck of a mix-up," Draco huffed.

"I'm sure my memo said hippogriff—" Hermione began.

"—And I'm sure my memo said animagus thief." he countered, interrupting.

She wiped her face, sighing. Looking back, she blamed it on the interdepartmental memo. Definitely the memo.

Hippogriff trapped in Conference Room 2, it said. Please assist.

It was a bit odd, being the Head of the Department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, but nevertheless, she hastened to help.

When she reached, there was absolutely no wild beast rampaging about, only an annoyed blonde who had shouted don't let that door close behind you! a minute too late, trapping them both inside (the door locked from the outside). Of course, being the argumentative pair they were, had screamed and snapped at each other.

"Granger," Draco smirked, drawing her back to their unfortunate situation.

"What?" she frowned.

His eyes drifted down her face to her chest and she followed, cursing.

Her white shirt had been soaked by the rain, making it completely see through. The green bra that she had thrown on this morning without a thought was visible.

"Here, you can have my jacket," he offered.

She blinked. "Thank you, Draco."

Instead of handing it to her like she'd thought he would, he slid it off himself, walking up to her, much too close to be considered polite, and draping it around her shoulders. He whispered, "For the record, you in a green bra is something I'll never be able to get out of my head."

She swallowed. "Maybe you need to touch up your occlumency then."

He chuckled at that. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe some things are so enticing, it's hard to stop thinking about them."

As it turned out, the mishap was due to a malfunctioning interdepartmental memo. The note for catching the animagus thief posed as a hippogriff, who had actually been hiding in the ministry's quidditch field, had been written alongside a note for fixing the raining ceiling in courtroom 2, and somehow the memo for the robber had been split into two, one for a hippogriff and one for a thief, sent to each of thems, switching up the locations as well.

But it did provide an amusing tale for Theo to use for his Best Man Speech at their wedding, as a starting off to their relationship.

Chapter 17: Forever, Eternity And Infinity

Summary:

Side-ship: Draco Malfoy/Holly Green
Warning: Implied/Referenced Major Character Death

Chapter Text

The thunderclouds boomed, pounding against the windowpane, roaring in violent fury. Bright, blinding, violet lightning followed, illuminating the night sky as it rained, soaking the woods outside the window.

The minute hand on the old grandfather clock reached twelve, and it clanged seven times.

The wind rattled against the lattice, then blasted it open, forcing its way inside the room.

Hermione jumped up from her seat and strained against it until it rammed sealed, then wavered to the couch, and sank onto it.

She pulled the heavy, thick, ancient-looking portfolio lying on it closer. It was made of leather, and had only two words engraved on the front: my love.

She hadn't meant to touch that one carving Draco had specifically asked her not to touch, the wooden cross, but—

Well she did mean to, but it was so finely carved, and the way he seemed so mysterious about it, maybe he'd hand-carved it, and she was so curious—and he was out at work anyways. He wouldn't know, would he? He was due home any minute but—she just wanted to know so badly.

She'd run her fingers over it, appreciating it, and suddenly it twisted, and a concealed compartment pushed out from the mantelpiece, where she'd found the journal. And if this book was hidden away, it meant—Draco had secrets.

She loved Draco, her husband, with her whole heart and soul, but sometimes he mystified her. He insisted he was a light eater and ate a very limited amount of all the dinners she prepared. He was the CFO of his company, and departed early in the morning, returning in the evening.

When he'd first started dating her, he somehow knew everything about her- flowers and colours and food, and- all of it, and passed it off as coincidental. He had no family at all. No cousins, or aunts or uncles or grandparents. His parents had died in a burglary gone horribly. He said he was 25, but he could easily pass off as 20. The manor—manor—had been his parents.

And now she had this one, confounding opportunity to know and-

she was just so curious. And he was her husband, so she had some right to know didn't she?

The journal smelled of old, crisp paper—a scent she loved (he'd known that too)—and it was bound together by a simplistic red ribbon. She undid the bow, holding her breath.

To her confusion, it was all about- Draco and Holly Marshall. Her heart sank. He'd never told her about his first wife. And he assuredly didn't look 40 years old.

But there was more. His matrimony certification to- Holly Green, in 1962. Little memoirs, like movie stubs, carnivals and circuses and such. Letters from and to Holly. A few valentine's day cards. A small poster of Pretty Vacant by the Sex Pistols. A drawing of a curly-haired, dimple-cheeked woman who laughed, shoulders heaving, a wide smile. Between its folds, she found a pressed chrysanthemum, looking like it could crumble any minute.

In the last few pages, there was a photo. Her breath hitched. Holly was a brown-haired woman, all in curls. She had brown eyes and dimples.

She looked just like Hermione.

But this woman was not Hermione. She wore a fringed suede miniskirt, with a yellow buttoned up top. She wore heavy, golden loops as earrings, and a silver heart-shaped locket.

Hermione's hand flew to her throat. That was her locket.

She stood up shakily. She was startled to feel wetness on her cheeks. Draco had a first wife. Draco had had plastic surgery. Something was very wrong—

"Where did you find that book?"

She glanced at the doorway. He was standing there, paler than moonlight, contrasting with the violent flush to his cheeks. He was panicked. He crossed the room in an instant, pulling Holly's memoir away from her, sealing it close.

She could almost see his thought process in his head. "I told you not to touch the cross!—"

"Draco—" her voice broke. "What is this?"

He was panicked again. Cajoling. "Hermione, please, I can—"

"Why didn't you tell me about—Holly? Was she—she your first wife?" She whispered.

He'd lied. There'd been- another woman. And she'd never known.

"No," he pleaded. "I can explain—"

She tried to move away but his hand on her wrist was stiff and strong, like chains securing her to where- she'd thought she belonged. "I think I'm going to stay with Harry and Ginny—"

"No!" He all but yelled frantically. "Hermione, I love you."

"Then who's Holly?" She asked, voice tiny.

He was quiet. Too quiet. Then eventually—

"She's you. You're her."

Her breath stammered. "W-what?"

"Hermione," he whispered, a reverent plea. "I'm—I'm a vampire."

And abruptly it all made sense. Explained away all of his strange behaviour. He took a step or two more towards her.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she questioned.

He bowed his head, looking dejected. "I wasn't sure if you'd love me once you knew I—I'm an undead monster."

She flared up. "You're being ludicrous. I love you because of who you are. Because you're- unconventional doesn't change anything."

Then he rushed into her, melting against her body. He pulled her down the couch, wrapping his arms around her. He gripped her hand, squeezing gently, giving a grateful little smile.

"Tell me about Holly—or me, or whatever." she insisted.

He sighed. "Holly was you in your last life."

She stared at him, a lump in her throat. "I thought, she was someone else..." she muttered.

He raised his hand, his palm rubbing her face to cup her cheek. "How could I ever love anyone but you, in any lifetime?" he said softly.

She shut her eyes, moving her cheek against his palm. "In the 1960s?" she probed.

"I was born Draco Malfoy. My parents were Lord and Lady Lucius and Narcissa Black-Malfoy," he began formally. "The 1968 flu pandemic devastated England, eliminating most of my family. For wizardkind, it was a horde of wild, ungovernable vampires."

She drew a sharp breath.

"We were to be married, then on our wedding eve, we were spending the night before our union together. They attacked us."

"Oh, Draco..." she said, pressing his hand. He dragged her in, until she was curled into him.

"The vampires killed—killed you. I tried to save you, and I failed. I got turned instead. I couldn't save you."

She kissed his jaw. "It's okay, I'm here now," she said soothingly.

His voice was rough. "After you died, I was desolate. I didn't know what to do with myself. I had everything. My parent's estates and money were left to me, I was immeasurably rich. But it was never enough because I didn't have you."

He nuzzled his face into her hair. "I solely roamed the world. When I met you, I—felt like life had given me another possibility with you."

"And I couldn't help but fall in love with you." she smiled.

He chuckled. They were wrapped into each other, silent for a moment. Just existing.

"So, what about sunlight?" she ultimately asked.

He gave a muffled snort. "Myth. Old vampires simply preferred the night more."

"The cross, then?"

His hold on her stiffened. "It was my father's. He had made it himself. But vampires simply didn't like Christ."

"Garlic?"

"Critically obnoxious. It makes our fangs hurt."

"Fangs..." she pondered.

He was still, then pulled away. "Hermione—I hope you'll still let me love you now you know. But—if you want me to leave you, I will do whatever you want."

"Don't be silly, Draco. I love you. I don't want to leave you." she insisted.

He sighed, comforted. "I love you too."

There was another moment of tranquillity. She took a breath, mind spinning. Draco was holding on to her tightly, like he never wanted to let her go.

"Hermione...? Can I ask you for something?" he asked warily.

"I'll do anything for you," she said passionately.

He wavered. "Hermione, I don't know what I'll do when you die again," he said softly. "I want want everlastingness with you. I want you forever."

She gasped. "You want to turn me into a vampire too?"

He was very quiet. "Unless—you don't want to. In that case, I'll do- whatever you want."

But then she thought of countless times, of neverending days and nights and dawns and dusks, with Draco, forever, eternity and infinity. It sounded like paradise.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Draco!"

He was hopeful, his eyes like melted steel. "Yes?"

She couldn't help herself; she kissed him, throwing her arms around him, crawling into his lap. "I always want to be with you," she said breathlessly.

Chapter 18: You

Summary:

Side-ship: Narcissa Black Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy

Chapter Text

The doorbell buzzed twice, then there was a frantic pounding on the door.

Hermione sniffed, rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through the unruly mess of her hair, wrenched free from the elegant bun Ginny had helped her prepare for Draco's parents' ball. No use for any kind of fanciness for the ins and outs of pureblood aristocracy now.

Getting up, she pushed aside the large wad of used tissue paper, lifting off her comfort blanket and tugged open the door.

Draco was leaning against the doorway, all pale and flushed. He was still in his suit, though there were obvious wrinkles. He was panting, like he'd just run a marathon.

"Draco?" His name fell from her lips like a puff of breath.

Had he run all the way from Wiltshire?

"I—I meant to apparate into your field," he stammered. "But I accidentally spun into that restaurant we always go to in town."

There was a painful jolt in her heart. "You ran a mile from town?" she asked softly.

"I would do anything for you." The deep look in his eyes was going to damn her. She wanted to step closer, to fall in. She wanted to look away.

Instead, she stepped back, allowing him inside. He hung his jacket, removing his shoes, like he had done before a thousand times.

She distractedly snapped the ice-cream-box lid's shut, moving it from the couch to the table. Folding her arms over her t-shirt, she stared at him.

"Why are you here. Draco?" she hoped her voice came across as tired. Empty. Done. Finished.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry for how this evening went," he said hoarsely, thumbing his cufflinks, and she heard what he wasn't saying.

I love you. Don't leave me. I don't deserve you. All insecurities he'd professed throughout their relationship.

She scoffed, voice trembling. "They publicly announced your courtship to Astoria Greengrass, Draco."

He took a step closer, orbiting towards her. She was the sun and he was the earth. "I've never loved any woman but you, Hermione,"—he said her name how a priest would proclaim God's—"and I never will. I would rather die than marry anyone but you."

She took a sharp, trembling breath. She wanted to go cry into her blanket some more. "If that's true, why did it take you fifteen minutes to come after me?"

"I'm done with playing by their rules, trying to show them how amazing you are, when they deliberately choose not to." he hissed, clenching and unclenching his fists. After you left, I announced to everyone that I would not be courting Astoria, that you were my girlfriend and I love you."

She'd been a fool these six months. Her rose-tinted glasses were gone.

"We're never going to work, Draco. I'll never fit into your upper society." she sniffled.

She turned away, but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him, their astronomical roles reversed. His arm curved around her shoulder, and the other latched onto her chin, making her look up at him.

"Fuck them," he breathed. "Fuck them all. You're perfect as you are. If a bunch of old, conservationists can't see that, then that's on them."

"But—you'll be disinherited, like they threatened you with—" she hesitated.

He made a noise of profoundly anxious irritation. "What does your heart choose, Hermione? Forget everyone else, forget the world, what do you want?"

She could resist the temptation of the sun no longer, and like Icarus, she flew, fell, into him. Buried her face into his chest, arms around his neck. "You," she said, muffled. "You forever,"

His arms curved around her, moulding them together like a puzzle.

I love you.

Chapter 19: A Rainbow Of Shades

Chapter Text

Her pinky brushed his first, and he thought it was a mistake. Then she did it again, and he curled against her. Ever the stubborn Gryffindor, her nails dug into the side of his finger.

 

Soft.

 

She let go—doing nothing to help his nerves—then drifted her fingers along his, pushing them into his closed fist, resting against his palm. He squeezed her hand, a display of everything he could not bring himself to say. She, in return, pulled both their hands up to his mouth, placing a soft, tender kiss over his skin.

 

Warm.

 

Then, he dragged her—their hands towards his lap, so that her half of skin rested right over his cock, straining against his trousers. She shivered, then scraped her nail on the fabric of his trousers.

 

Fuck.

 

She leisurely began to stroke up and down his length, until he could take it no longer, thrusting upwards, sideways, anywhere, desperate for her. She stopped suddenly, and he almost growled. He could practically imagine her smirk.

 

Please.

 

She let go, to fully take him in her hand, slipping under the fabric. Tightening her grip, she stroked him, up and down and everywhere. The colours at the edge of his vision danced closer.

 

Merlin.

 

He finally exploded, all over her hand, spilling into his slacks as well. It was a rainbow of shades, reds and yellows and greens and whites. He bit his lip so hard it probably drew blood, stifling his groan.

 

Hermione.

Chapter 20: Ode To A Broom Closet

Chapter Text

Draco slammed Hermione against the wall, inside a conveniently unoccupied broom closet.

The Magical Maintenance worker refilling his Mr Clean It bottle magically vanished.

"Fuck, Granger," he grunted, "I'm so fucking hard for you."

To prove his point, he ground his cock against her wet-as-a-waterfall centre. She moaned loudly and the few people outside the closet magically disappeared as well.

"Ohhhh Drrraaayyycooohhhh!" She bleated, as he started on her neck, kissing and licking, sucking and biting.

He slid his hand between them to cup her entrance.

"Mmm, good heavens, darling, your fingers feel scrumptious!" Hermione mewled, bringing out her inner cat, digging her nails into his back.

"You're so wet, and you clench so good around my fingers," he growled, like an actual fucking wolf or shit.

"Oh pleasseeee Drayycooohhh, I need you now!" She whimpered, and he groaned.

Draco shoved his trousers down to his knees as she hiked her skirt up to her waist, and he slammed inside her, pounding her hard enough to shake the walls (of the closet).

Now if anyone was outside, they would have noticed (because what rational ministry actually builds thick walls for broom closets?) but nobody was there, because this is fanfiction, so this was totally fine.

Within a minute, Hermione blurted, "I'm coming, Draco!"

He husked, "I seem to be reaching my orgasm as well!", pushing his hips into her erratically.

"Indubitably, my good sir," Hermione yowled.

They both dissolved into their pleasure, screaming and yelling loud enough to think someone was being murdered. And he totally didn't come inside her. 100% sure. Swear to God.

He softened inside her, pulling out and gave her a I-just-got-fucked-so-hard smile which she returned.