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Thank you Mr. Malfoy

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"Stay still, little one."

It was easier said than done, considering the only thing Hermione wanted to do more than anything was move.

More specifically, she wanted to ride the cock that was currently stretching her beyond the point of sanity, and chase the orgasm Severus Snape kept teasing her with from the moment she'd sunk down on his massive dick.



"Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger. Though I've always known you to be infuriatingly difficult when it came to following the rules, I would think you'd have learned by now." His voice was like satin—smooth and wicked as it caressed her senses. Her pussy pulsed around him, desperate for even the slightest bit of friction. "Now, finish your grading."

The swan feather quill creaked in protest as her fingers tightened around it, as if gripping it any harder would help her concentrate on the task at hand. Clearing her throat, she tried to right her mind and focus on the words scribbled on the parchment before her.

How she'd ended up like this, with Severus Sodding Snape of all people, still felt as close to kismet as she'd allowed herself to believe. She had been three years out of the Academy, and looking for a Potions Master to study under so she could work towards earning her own Mastery.

She could have picked anyone. Her marks were excellent, and the fact that she was a war hero didn't hurt, but she didn't want to pick just any Potions Master. She wanted the best. And, more importantly, someone who would push her limits and encourage her to grow. Someone who would challenge her.

Severus Snape was the obvious choice.

But he wasn't interested.

At least, not in the beginning. It has taken three separate visits, and one sternly written missive from Minerva to finally get him to concede.

At the time, she'd thought him the same sour old man she'd known him to be. Later she'd found out it was because the moment she'd waltzed into his chambers—twenty-three and fresh from her studies on the Baltic Sea with glowing skin to show for it—Severus had desired to have her, to claim her as his own.

She was no longer the bushy-haired girl he once knew, but a woman—confident, radiant, and exceedingly clever.

It took three weeks under his tutelage for her to find herself in his bedchambers, and three more until she'd discovered their dark sides were a matching set. She'd been bent over his desk, dress robes gathered around her waist, knickers tangled at her ankles, when she'd first blurted it out.


She would have been mortified, but Severus hadn't stopped. No, he'd made her say it again, and again, and again until he brought them both to bliss. And it was only in the post-orgasm haze that the realization came, but from that moment on, they had never looked back.

It was their little secret, hidden from the safest of prying eyes in the castle, and far from the tabloids that begged for just a morsel of her life to publish in the papers and peddle to the public.

His hand, which had lain lax against her thigh, moved, long fingers stroking the soft inner skin. Up, down, up, down. It was a methodic rhythm that should have been comforting, and it might have been, if it weren't for the fact that with each pass, his hand traveled higher and higher until…

"Daddy." Her eyes shut tightly, body trembling from the delicate brush of his fingertips sliding across her parted slit.


Merlin, this was too much. She couldn't take the stretch, or the way her body begged for friction, or how desperately she needed more.

"Please." Her plea twisted and turned in her throat until it came forth as a slow whinge that felt almost shameful. "Please. I can't take it any—"

She was prepared to grovel, to suck his cock whenever he fancied—yes, even during his 7th year class hidden under his damn desk like he'd requested before—but the promises of debauchery to come were lost the moment a sharp knock cut through the quiet of the dungeon's classroom.

A prick of fear lanced her, infiltrating her veins with ice as the thought of getting caught became so very real.

She dropped her quill, red ink splattering across the parchment, dotting her cream blouse. "Fuck." Pushing at the edge of the desk, she began to wiggle herself free from Severus' hold.

"Come in." His arm tightened around her middle, long fingers curling around her mound, splitting to accommodate his cock, which remained firmly nestled inside her.


She had never excelled in Legilimency, only trying her hand at the exceedingly rare branch of magic years prior to help Harry. She'd never really wanted to read people's minds, as interpersonal relationships weren't exactly high on her priority list, but in this moment, she desperately wished to know exactly what Severus was thinking as he held her in his lap, finger stroking across the hood of her clit.

It felt as if the world was moving in slow motion when the door crept open, the mixture of fear and pleasure swirling like a tempest until the very marrow in her bones couldn't decide if she should fight to free herself from Severus' hold or stay and take the pleasure he was pulling out of her.

They were seconds away from getting caught.

She'd be fired.

He'd be fired.

The papers would surely find out!

Merlin, she'd have to explain what this bloody relationship was to Harry and Ron, and quite frankly, she didn't really have a name for it just yet. They weren't necessarily dating, but it wasn't like they were seeing other people either.

Her thighs trembled and her fingers curled into his forearm, nails sinking into the thick layers of his overcoat. Her breath caught in her lungs as a pair of polished loafers appeared on the worn stone floor.

"You really ought to consider yourself lucky that you are my friend, Severus. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't have dared to leave the comfort of the Manor—especially with the way you summoned me."

Lucius Malfoy.

She would have recognized that voice anywhere: it was refined, polished. Like finely spun Acromantula gossamer. The way in which he spoke—the inflection and tone—was utterly distinguishable.

He spoke with a sense of entitlement that would rival British royalty. Every syllable dripped with the confidence that he believed his family held unrivaled power, and he had complete contempt for anybody and everything deemed not worthy of his time. Which, evidently, included those he would call friends from time to time.

Though she had long forgiven the Malfoy patriarch for his indiscretions during her youth, allowing his penitence to be a true restart for his life, she couldn't help the way her hackles instantly rose.

He strolled into the room with the same aura of arrogance he'd always conveyed, cane in one hand, the other tucked loosely in the pocket of his robes. But he looked different than she last remembered him.

Gone was his signature waist-length, white-blond hair in favor of a much more modern look. A cropped quiff was artfully combed, giving him an almost youthful appearance, if not for the specks of gray that peppered his well-groomed facial hair.

Had she seen him on the street, Hermione would have never guessed him to be Lucius Malfoy. No, the wizard before her was a far cry from the one she once knew.

He was…. dare she say it, fit.

Piercing blue eyes found her with little difficulty, and though he appeared as aristocratic as ever, there was a glint in his eye that told her he, too, was caught off guard.

"Oh… Hello, Miss Granger." Each word was uttered slowly, as if he were trying to comprehend the sight before him. "I wasn't aware Professor Snape was already hosting a guest."

Her cheeks were flushed, she could feel the heat radiating down her neck, though truthfully, she wasn't certain if it was from embarrassment or exertion. Severus had begun to stroke his index and middle finger around her clit in a rhythm that was certain to induce madness.

She could have returned the hello.

She could have at least lifted her hand in silent greeting, but instead, the moment her lips parted, a soft whimper managed to work its way up her throat.

"Now, now, Little One." Severus' voice was in her ear, his hot breath tickling the skin at her neck, and she felt the tip of his aquiline nose brush through her curls. "Is that any way to greet my guest?"

As the mortification of what just occurred set in, Hermione shut her eyes, not wishing to see Lucius' reaction as she struggled to remain composed.

No wiggling.

No noises.

Calm, docile, in control.

She knew what Severus wanted of her when they played this game—the 'sit on addy's cock and keep it warm while we work' game. The same one that usually ended with several well-earned orgasms.

But she also knew she was seconds away from losing what little remained of said control.

The snap of loafers on the stone floor drew closer. "Do you make a habit of allowing your pupils to sit in your lap, old friend?"

"She's not my pupil anymore, Lucius. Surely you are aware of that."

"Are you not training her?"

"I am guiding her."

"Evidently in more ways than one."

The dark slip of laughter from behind her sent an electric shock down her spine, as if there was a single connection between her brain and her pussy. She clenched around his cock, sliding her hand down his arm to lock around his fingers.

"P-please." The plea was barely uttered, just a whisper, praying he took pity on her state and stopped his fingers from strumming against her before she tipped over the edge.

Lucius' footsteps slowed, and she could hear a slow intake of air that let her know he was finally privy to what was happening beneath Severus' desk. Shame and pleasure manifested as a deep blush that bloomed across her cheeks, and she turned her away from where she knew the blond stood, the rough weft of Severus' frock brushing across her cheek.

"Go on, Little One." Severus clearly had no shame exposing their relationship, nor her body. He widened his legs, forcing her own to open more as his fingers picked up speed circling her clit. "Let's show Daddy's friend what a good little slut you are. I bet you could come in three."

Three? Three bounces on his cock? Yes, she was pent up, and yes his cock was about as bespoke to her desire as was possible, but three?

No. She simply couldn't.

"Take pity on the witch, old friend." Lucius clicked his tongue.

Severus' free hand stroked across her skin, thumb sweeping over the softness of her inner thigh as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "You can, can't you Little One? And if you do, I promise I'll give you more. I'll lay you on this desk and stuff your pretty little cunt until you're full of my come. That's what you want, isn't it? To be dripping with Daddy's come."

"Gods." Nimue, Circe and Mother Shipton herself would have been brought to their knees by the man beneath her. It wasn't magic that made her putty in his hands, although through the fog of lust, she vaguely wondered if he were her own personal lust potion. "Yes."

"Say it…"

Her throat worked around stifled whimpers, hips rocking into his fingers ever so slightly, praying her wouldn't notice and punish her. "I can do it… I want to come."

"I want to come, what?"


"Good girl. Now, why don't you open those pretty eyes and look at Daddy's friend?"

She scrunched her nose, upper lip curling as she warred with her instinct to disobey. Her brat side, as Severus referred to it, was begging to be unleashed. Normally she wouldn't fight it, mainly because being bent over his knee was one of her favorite aspects of this little relationship.

But it was different now.

Now she was in front of his friend, and he was showing her off, as if she were some prized possession or treasure to behold.

The reality was, Hermione knew she was more than her body.

She was intelligent, magically talented, and possessed a keen sense of self that Severus seemed to appreciate. She had always been—for lack of a better term—a swot; all her life she had often heard praise for her intellect.

But beauty? Well, that was rare indeed.

She had been dubbed 'The Brightest Witch of her Age,' not the most beautiful. In her youth, her hair was wild, her teeth slightly too large, and her attention to personal detail in the form of fashion considerably lacking.

Truth be told, she wasn't exceedingly better now. She knew a few handy beauty charms that tamed her frizz into curls. She knew how to apply a tasteful amount of makeup to enhance her features when needed, and she figured out the wonders of a properly tailored set of robes.

But she was far from Aphrodite and she knew this. For him to want to show her off—physically speaking—stoked a primal desire within her that felt so contrary to the logic that dictated her daily life.

Considering the enigma that was her relationship with her once hated Potions professor, this foreign feeling seemed par for the course.

Steeling her courage, Hermione cracked open her eyes, letting them adjust to the low light of the lab before she turned to find the blond wizard.

Lucius was leaning against Severus' desk, bright blue eyes locked on hers, and his normally apathetic facade was shattered. Between the cracks, she could make out tendrils of desire.

His pupils dilated as his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the desk, the rise and fall of his chest something short of a pant.

Despite herself, Hermione arched, electric shocks snapping down every limb as she lost herself to Severus' wicked fingers.

She was supposed to ride him, no more than three times, to find her end, but the way Lucius looked at her, combined with Severus' dexterous fingers and wicked words were her undoing.

She tried to keep her eyes open and listen to Severus' edict as her body trembled through her orgasm's crest, but once the wave crashed and she was pulled under, it was all she could do to stay upright. Her pussy spasmed around Severus' cock, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat as she let go. Her spine arched, as if a thread pulled upward from the very centre of her chest, and her head tipped back against Severus' sternum as she lost herself to a prolonged oblivion.

Distantly, she could make out the low timbre of Lucius and Severus' voices, though the specifics to their conversation seemed lost, miles away as she floated back down to Earth, trying to recall the involuntary aspects of breathing.

"—you certain?" Lucius was close, just in front of her. "You're typically not fond of sharing."

"I do not like sharing when the witch is not keen."

"And Miss Granger?"

She felt lips at her temple, the soft brush of breath tickling her curls. "Her inner desires revealed her to be most interested in the idea." Severus' fingers were curled around her hips beneath her skirt, thumbs stroking softly against her lower back.

Her mind struggled to make the connection to what just happened, as if a thick post-orgasm fog prevented the synapses in her brain from firing at a normal speed. It wasn't until she felt a brush at her knee cap, and the distinct tickle of breath creep at her inner thigh that she lifted her head to look down and find the source.

"M-Mr. Malfoy?" It was hard not to be shocked by the sight before her. Lucius Malfoy was many things—proud, arrogant, handsome. He held himself to a lofty standard that seemed damn near untouchable, despite his numerous fallacies, which is why seeing him before her, kneeling on the dirty stone floor between her and Severus' parted thighs was almost incomprehensible.

His wand rested behind him on Severus' desk. Even in the darkened light, she could make out his tented trousers. "Welcome back, Princess," he purred, lips curling in a predatory smile.

Hermione couldn't deny the trickle of anxiety that ran down her spine, but the desire that still pumped in her veins was headier than logic. She shouldn't feel this way about him. She shouldn't crave to hear him whisper that pet name, and she certainly shouldn't run her fingers through his hair, but she couldn't help herself.

She wanted—no, needed—to know if it was as soft as it appeared, if it slipped between her fingers as easily as Severus' chin-length locks.

"Hi…" There was probably a better greeting for a man who was inches away from your bare pussy, though what that was, Hermione wasn't entirely sure. Her nails scratched lightly at his scalp as his clipped locks slipped between the valley of her fingers. "You cut your hair."

Lucius pressed a kiss to the inside of her opposite knee. "I did."

"It's nice."

"Thank you."

"You look younger now."

Behind her, Severus chuckled, the soft laughter rumbling at her back, and Lucius, who had worked up to her inner thigh, nipped gently at the sensitive flesh. "I wasn't aware I looked old before, Princess."

"I-I didn't say—you didn't!" Hermione's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, though why she wasn't absolutely mortified over being so exposed and instead over her words felt rather contrary. "It's just… this looks… much nicer."

Lucius hummed, the tip of his sharply angled nose tickling along the junction of her thigh and pelvis ever so slightly, skimming the surface of her skin. "Well, thank you."

"I think her compliment is deserving of a reward. Don't you, Lucius?" Severus' thumbs applied pressure on her lower back, slowly arching her hips forward. "Little witches should be rewarded for good manners."

"They should and I know just the reward." Lucius' blue eyes flashed up to her just seconds before his lips pressed at the top of her slit.

A sharp intake of air cut through the silence of the dungeon, and her hand, which now rested on Lucius' shoulder, curled into the crisp wool of his robes. Whatever devious game Severus and Lucius were playing was clearly discussed before tonight. Though they had tried to play it off as not premeditated, Hermione held no doubts when Lucius scooted closer to let his tongue slide down her cunt and press against the base of Severus' shaft.

"Gods." She could practically hear her mind fizzle and crackle, as if spontaneously combusting at the sight before her, watching as Lucius took time lavishing the thick base of Severus cock.

Behind her, soft groans echoed. Basic and primal, they gave way to Severus' feelings on the matter with no room for doubt. "Move, Little One." His command was uttered with a shift of his hips.

Hermione wasted no time following his command, though she couldn't look away from what Lucius was doing—as if entranced by the sight. She used his shoulders for purchase, slowly easing herself up and down Severus' cock, finally scratching that itch of desire that he had denied her all evening.

"Fuck, Severus," Lucius murmured against her mound, "you two taste… so bloody good."

The air in the room no longer felt languid, as if the magic had a mind of its own as it danced around them. Fueled by Lucius' words, her soft moans grew louder with each rise and fall of her hips.

Lucius stayed between their legs, palms pressed tightly against her thighs, making distinctly satisfied sounds, as if it were the only place in the world he wanted to be. It wasn't until Severus barked out an order for him to stand that he stopped and listened.

Severus' hands pressed on her hips, blunt nails biting at her skin, until he slowed her to a stop, sitting on his cock once more. "Mr. Malfoy is going to fuck your mouth, Little One." One hand moved to slide up her spine, fingers knocking on each vertebra as he bent her forward. "You're to swallow every drop of his come, and thank him for fucking your mouth after. Do you understand?"

Tension coiled in her stomach before radiating outward. It was all she could do not to moan at the very prospect.

"Y-yes, Daddy." She nodded and looked up to Lucius, watching his eyes blaze as he began to unbutton his trousers.

The lithe ropes of muscle outlining his hip bones were exposed as he lowered the elastic band on his shorts to expose his cock, the head already glistening. Hermione licked her lips at the sight.

Reaching forward, her hand cupped his side, edging him closer until she could take his cock in her mouth.

She started off slow, taking her time, exploring his length and girth, letting the salty, heady taste of Lucius dance across her tastebuds until she was drunk off his desire. It wasn't until she'd finally set a rhythm, tongue sliding across the underside of his cock as he worked to and from the back of her throat, that Severus finally began to move beneath her.

Both of his hands returned her hips, practically holding her aloft as he began to fuck her in time with the rise and fall of her head.




Hermione was ruined, with no hope for ever returning to what one might consider a normal sex life after this. She needed this—to feel desired, to be used and ravished. To have both of these men take her—claim her.

Sometime inside her clicked into place like it never had before, like her magical core was finally aligned after years of missing pieces, and at that exact moment, it felt as if the world shattered.

The heat from earlier that had consumed her returned, but this time as an inferno. She felt like a collapsing star, with no hope of saving herself. Imploding. Around her, colors burst to life, creating what she could only assume was a supernova of magic that swirled and forced them together.

Hermione could feel Severus find his end in time with her, his thick cock pulsing deep inside her cunt just as Lucius' seed spilled down her throat. She held onto Lucius' waist, desperate to ground herself in the chaos as she tried to swallow as much as she could.

And just as quickly as it happened, the magic around them subsided.

The papers that had been neatly stacked across Severus' desk were blown about, inkpots shattered with pools of red and black spread across the floor of the potions lab.

Burners and tables were askew, some knocked over and others pushed to the opposite side of the classroom.

The expulsion of magic was far from normal, but neither Lucius or Severus seemed concerned as they tried to catch their breath.

Hermione slowly slipped from Severus' lap, legs shaking as she rose to her full height. A trickle of come slid down her inner thighs as she peered around Lucius to assess the damaged room.

She slowly turned around, looking down to Severus, who sat in a wide-legged stance, his cock softening against his thigh. His cheeks were flushed pink, softening his normally sallow skin to a healthy glow. His hands were behind his neck, elbows splayed wide in a pose that was easily the most relaxed she'd ever seen the wizard before.

He arched his brow at her slowly, lips thinning ever so slightly as he cocked his head to the side.

"Oh!" It seemed silly to do now, considering the wreckage of accidental magic around them that clearly needed to be addressed, but she wasn't going to argue—not if it meant doing what had just happened again. Her tongue swept across her lips, hands smoothing her wrinkled skirt as she looked to where Lucius leaned against Severus' desk.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice was soft, still broken as she tried to collect her breath.

Severus cleared his throat. "For?"

Her blush spread down the column of her throat and across her chest. "For fucking my mouth while Daddy fucked me." She gulped, trying to gauge any sort of reaction from Lucius, who once more wore his mask of apathy.

Blue eyes flashed between her and Severus, nimble fingers buttoning his trousers. "Anytime, Princess." His hand lifted to smooth back his hair. "Though, I will say, next time we will not meet in these chambers. The lighting in here is dreadful, and I am not fond of having bruises on my knees because Severus refuses to use Cushioning Charms."