“Why do we have to have Advanced Potions, of all classes, with the Slytherins?” Harry whined and Hermione rolled her eyes. A sea of students strolled shoulder to shoulder towards the Great Hall for dinner.
“You’re just angry Snape won’t let you and Ron work together after you blew up your sorry attempt at a Pepper-up Potion last week,” she scoffed, tossing her long caramel curls over her shoulder.
“Give it a rest, ‘Mione,” Ron groaned, “Parkinson refuses to lift a finger for our brews. It’s hard enough for me to figure out what we’re doing without her glaring at me!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I got paired with Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. Stop complaining.”
“At least your partner does some of the work,” Harry muttered, grimacing as he thought about how he spent the entire class fending off Theodore Nott’s advances instead of monitoring the potion color.
“Are you two listening to yourselves? Are you saying you’d rather work with Draco bloody Malfoy?” Hermione asked incredulously. While yes, it was nice to not have to worry about staying at the top of the class, he had done nothing but tease her mercilessly over the past few weeks, making Potions class a living hell.
The hallway in front of them became more congested. Something was obviously going on ahead of them. Hermione planted her hands on the boys’ shoulders on either side of her and raised to her tiptoes, craning her neck to try to see over the heads of those in front of her.
She stomped back to her heels with a frown. Wolf-whistles erupted from all around and Hermione turned to Ron in confusion. “Can you see what’s going on up there?”
Ron paled and threw an arm around Hermione’s shoulders in an attempt to lead her away from the commotion. Unfortunately, with the crowd pushing against their backs, there was no way to avoid the spectacle without continuing forward.
“Who cares?” he forced a laugh and led her around the side of more ogling students, Harry trailing closely behind. “I’m properly starving, let’s just get something to eat.”
As the cheering grew louder, Hermione looked around them to try to piece together what was going on. When the bodies finally parted and Hermione saw what had caused such a holdup, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Right there, in the middle of the hallway, her supposed boyfriend Zacharias Smith was full-on snogging a Ravenclaw in the year below them. One hand tangled in her long blonde locks, the other firmly planted low on her waist, Zacharias seemed emboldened by the cheers erupting around them. Hermione felt her vision tunnel into his hand sneaking lower and lower onto the Ravenclaw’s arse, and time slowed as all the sound got sucked out as if in a vacuum.
Tears welled in her eyes and she clutched at her bag strap in a vice grip, desperately trying to anchor herself to keep from breaking down in the middle of the hallway. Cheeks heated in embarrassment, she shrugged off Ron’s arm from her shoulder, put her head down, and shoved her way through to the stairwell. She angrily rubbed away traitorous tears that spilled down her cheeks, completely oblivious to a pair of molten silver eyes following her every move.
Hermione allowed herself exactly one night of heartbreak. She took a hot bath, let Lavender and Parvarti plait her hair, and read a trashy romance novel that routinely was passed through Gryffindor in times like these. Logically, she knew her and Zacharias would never work out. It was a fling, she told her herself, and he made a mistake she wouldn’t allow him to repeat.
When Zacharias sought her out a few days later, she looked straight through him like they’d never even spoken, much less dated for a few months. No one treated Hermione Granger like second best.
Days in the aftermath passed in a blur. She kept busy, externally projecting an image of apathetic nonchalance, only allowing her emotions to emerge late at night between the security of the maroon curtains adorning her four-poster.
Just when she had begun to stop caring, something happened. Sitting at the Gryffindor table for dinner one night, Ginny gasped so loudly Hermione almost spilled the entire contents of her goblet.
A low whistle from her left. “Would you take a look at that?”
Whilst skulking over to the Hufflepuff table, the hood of his robe had fallen, exposing Zacharias Smith to the majority of Hogwarts. He was sporting a nasty black eye, split lip, and had many small lacerations on the end of his chin. Now that she paid attention, he seemed to be walking with a limp favoring his left side and grimaced as he straddled the bench.
“Who do you think is responsible for doing that to that prat?” Ginny leaned forward conspiratorially. The rest of Gryffindor eagerly glanced through their ranks, not so patiently waiting for one of their own to claim responsibility.
“Ron?” Seamus asked before ripping off a large chunk of a turkey leg with his teeth.
“Nah,” Ron grumbled, digging into his mashed potatoes. “Wish I could claim that was because of me, though.”
A few minutes later, Hermione turned back to Ginny with pure confusion across her face when no one had spoken up. “Well if it wasn’t one of us, then who?”
Ron and Harry had taken it upon themselves to find the source of this mystery knight who put Zacharias in his place. They’d stayed up all night theorizing and checking the Marauder’s Map, hoping for any hint or a repeat confrontation to no avail. Even by breakfast the next morning, they remained optimistic when they had still not gained any leads.
Hermione allowed this side project of theirs because deep down she wanted to know who’d bloodied her ex up the Muggle way. Judging by the injuries she’d seen, not a single blow was delivered by wand. She wasn’t arrogant enough to assume it was because of her, but if it was, well that made the mystery person all that more intriguing.
Zacharias walked into the Great Hall mostly healed, the remnants of his black eye motivating to divert his eyes, and he claimed to any that asked that he’d simply lost balance on one of the moving stairs and fallen down a flight.
Hermione daydreamed her way to Potions, only half-listening to Harry and Ron’s rambling, and unceremoniously dropped her bag under her station. As she prepped for today’s brew, she let herself consider her options for who she’d like to come to her defense.
She was so lost in this fantasy that she nearly missed Malfoy’s covert entrance right before class started. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she forced herself to focus on Professor Snape’s pre-lab lecture.
Not unusually, Malfoy fidgeted from his place at her side by spinning his signet ring around his finger absentmindedly. Like usual, he eventually spun just slightly too hard, and the ring clashed from his hand onto the lab bench and skittered across before stopping in the middle of her parchment.
Her focus was drawn to it immediately, and she watched as he reached across to snag it up. Eyes widening, she grabbed his wrist as it tried to sneak back away from her. Bloody knuckles.
Honey met silver as she clutched his wrist, trying to communicate with her eyes what she wished she could blurt aloud right now, Professor Snape be damned. He stared back, like an animal caught in headlights before wrenching his arm from her grasp and turning his body away from her.
Any attempts to get him to talk throughout their class were fruitless, and when he rushed out the door the second they were dismissed, Hermione haphazardly collected her belongings before she chased him out the door.
Long legs carried him through the dungeons much quicker than Hermione could ever dream, but bystanders shot from her path as they witnessed her go after him- likely trying to avoid whatever Golden Trio-related conflict that was sure to arise when involving Draco Malfoy.
Miraculously, she slipped through the door of the classroom at the last second. Feeling the walls shake as it slammed behind her, they both threw up locking and privacy charms before dropping their bags and turning to face each other.
“What, Granger, taking up stalking now?”
“It was you, you were the one that fought Zacharias,” an observation, not a question.
A scoff. “Yeah, like I would ever-” he cut off, startled as delicate fingers gingerly took his hand up to her eyes for examination.
She tsked at him before turning for her bag, likely to retrieve the vinewood in its side. Draco gulped but allowed her to push him back against a nearby desk. Squeezing his hand in hers, she beamed at him before looking back down, using her want to heal the partially-healed wound.
“Was it because of me?” A quiet, insecure question. Vulnerable.
Who was he to squander the little bit of light she’d bestowed upon him? “Yeah.”
A flutter of the heart, a flip of the stomach, a glance to check for sincerity. A genuine thoughtfulness met her and she smiled, really truly smiled at him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He waited until her gaze returned to his own. He’d do it a million times over if she’d just look at him like that again. “I know.”
“Then why?” An almost whisper. His hand was nearly fully healed.
“He made you cry.” Her head shot up in surprise, her eyebrows preemptively furrowed in an inquiry ready to be made.
He wasn’t exactly sure what had possessed him to answer so honestly, albeit succinctly. That really was all there was to it. He’d never experienced the red-hot rage that overcame him as he watched her banish tears from her face because that absolute twat wouldn’t know the good thing he had with her until he shattered it at their feet.
The relief he got in causing Zacharias to bleed was more effective than any Calming Draught. It took a while before he found the right time, but ever the Slytherin, Draco didn’t mind laying low for the perfect opportunity. Alone in the Prefect's bath, late enough that everyone else was hurrying to the Great Hall for dinner, Draco force-fed the prat his fists until he was satisfied he’d suffered more than he’d made Hermione.
His hand throbbed the entire meal but he barely felt it as he watched her from a few tables away. The expression on her face when she’d seen someone had cared enough to have her back was enough to dull the pain.
It was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now.
The words poured from his mouth like he’d chugged Veritaserum. “He’s a fucking idiot, treating you like that. The tosser didn’t even know how lucky he was to have you.”
Honey eyes roamed his face, always analyzing, seeming to check for any inconsistency that would out him to her. She found none.
She dropped his hand and set her wand next to him on the desk once she’d done all she could to heal him. She hesitated. “Well, thanks Malfoy. While I don’t condone violence… I really appreciate the sentiment.”
He nodded, swallowing heavily as he watched her worry her bottom lip between her teeth. He ran sweaty palms down his thighs and noticed that he towered over her even sitting on the desk.
Draco couldn’t care less who it was that moved first. The only matter of importance being that Hermione was stretching up from between his knees, palms planted firmly on his thighs, allowing him to cradle her face in his hands and crush their lips together.
Like a match to a flame, they ignited. No matter how hard they tugged, grasped, pulled, they couldn’t get close enough to each other. Kisses became more hurried, his hands moved to tangle in her long locks, and he thought he’d go mad at the way her fingers traced from his thighs up to his chest.
Her neck was straining due to the uncomfortable angle, but she clutched at him further, only determined to get him nearer still. A small sigh escaped her lips when his broad hand finally found its way to her waist and the following groan in response stoked the fire growing below her navel.
As Draco kissed down her jaw, sucking a dark red love bite below her pulse, he suddenly spun them and switched their positions, nudging himself between her thighs as he lifted her onto the desk.
She didn’t let herself overthink. In fact, the way he was kissing her, Malfoy seemed just as intent on preventing her mind from taking over as she was. Instead, she lost herself in him. His cologne was all around her, his hands roaming over her body, and she ached for him.
Hermione threw her head back, baring her neck to his ministrations, and in a moment of boldness guided his hand to touch the soft skin above her knee at the edge of her skirt. He unlatched himself for a second, pupils blown wide and dark as he waited for her to take it back.
She pulled his head back down, stealing the air from his lungs in response.
The brunette witch bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and the coppery metallic taste of blood trickled into his mouth. Her tongue traced the bite before slipping into his mouth, and she swallowed his sigh. The soft moans and whimpers he elicited goaded him on. Slowly, he slid a splayed palm beneath the hem of her skirt, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
His fingers ghosted over her skin, traveling up and up and up until they gently teased the edge of her knickers, a stark contrast to the punishing way his lips met hers.
Kissing her was like drowning, he thought.
He gulped in as much air as he could when he resurfaced between her kisses. The deeper he got pulled, the easier it was to let himself sink, and fuck did he want to sink into her right now.
She clung desperately to his platinum locks, sending shivers down his spine when her fingernails grazed his scalp. Hermione suddenly shifted and his fingers slipped under the lace between her thighs and his mind blanked.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he groaned into her throat as he pushed two fingers inside her heat.
Hermione didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice with the moan that escaped her as he finally stopped teasing her. She clung to him tighter and threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut as he began fucking her with his fingers.
“That’s it,” he whispered against her skin, and she felt an elastic begin to stretch deep in her abdomen. “Let me hear you. Show me how good I make you feel.”
His words only spurred her on further. She tilted his head back up to hers, raking her nails into the nape of his neck, and smirked when he hissed.
“I’ll say whatever you want me to if you fuck me right now,” she mumbled against his lips and felt as his hand stilled.
She pulled away, one hand snaking down his chest to his buckle, where his pants were straining to contain the hardness within. Staring deep into his eyes and seeing how conflicted he was reflecting back at her, she grasped his length. “Draco Malfoy, I want you to fuck me into this desk. I need you inside me,” she whined as she rolled her hips, and if she hadn’t been so bloody close to cumming on his fingers she would have been embarrassed by the brazen tone of her voice.
The picture playing through her mind of him kicking the shit out of her cheating ex-boyfriend was one of the hottest things she could imagine. She could so easily see him bent over, fist drawn back as he punched, bloodying up his knuckles as he did even worse to Zacharias’ face. Her face warmed as she considered what he’d done for her .
Draco blinked and she felt his cock twitch beneath her hand before he nodded and she tore open his belt, ripped open the zipper, and freed him from his pants. Still maintaining eye contact, she spat into her palm before gliding her hand up and down his length.
He swears his heart almost stops at the sight. It races instead, taking off in his chest as she pumps him and looks up at him with those fucking eyes. Her touch sets him off and it takes every bit of restraint in him to hold off and let her have her way.
Draco watched her for a minute before he began fingering her again, kissing a slow and meandering path from her shoulder up to her lips. By the time he reached her mouth, she was gasping and rolling her hips, tugging on his cock so rapidly he knew she must be close. The elastic in her belly tightened and tightened until it snapped.
“Cum on my fingers like the good girl you are,” he commanded against her lips and was rewarded by the rhythmic contractions of her pulsing around his fingers shortly after. He leaned back to gaze at her face, watching as her cheeks flushed with color and her jaw dropped slack, feeling every sound that escaped her lips travel directly to his cock.
When she floated back down to earth, he slid his fingers out from inside her and popped them in his mouth for a taste. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his cheeks hollowing out, as he savored her taste.
No, maybe that was the most erotic image of Draco Malfoy she’d ever seen. Despite finishing moments before, Hermione felt herself grow even wetter at the sight. The ache for him only deepened. While he was good with her hands, she craved the kind of fullness only a hard cock could provide.
He released his fingers with a pop before grabbing her by the hips and yanking her down to the edge of the desk.
“You taste better than I ever imagined,” Draco slid her knickers down her legs before he took his dick in his hand and stroked himself a few times as he teased her entrance, coating himself in her wetness.
She felt drunk at his words, lust taking over completely. As she moaned, she wrapped her legs around his waist, trying desperately to get him closer to her by pulling on his shoulders and squeezing her ankles against his arse. He chuckled in between nibbles on her earlobe, causing tingles to shoot down her spine.
“Malfoy, please,” she begged, tangling her fingers in his hair once more to keep his face pressed against her own. She was throbbing with need and if he fuck her soon she was going to go mad.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he smirked and thrust his hips forward, groaning in pure bliss as her velvet heat enveloped him entirely. Hermione sighed in relief, relishing in the sweet sting of being stretched around his dick.
Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he began moving at a torturous pace, testing out different angles until he found the one that made her gasp and squeeze his cock inside her.
He sped up, making sure to hit the same spot each time, and grabbed the opposite edge of the desk behind her for leverage as he pounded into her. Her arms were thrown over his shoulders, ankles locked behind his back, head thrown back in ecstasy. He had never seen her look so beautiful.
As he felt the telltale signs of his impending release, he grabbed her chin in an attempt to force her eyes to meet his once more. “Look at me.”
She ignored him, arching her back just a little more, and feeling his thrusts become even harder. Indignation flood his bloodstream. He increased the pressure on her chin, satisfaction bleeding into his chest as he finally drew her attention.
“Watch me as I fuck you, Granger,” his gravelly voice intoned and she obeyed instantly. She would have done anything he asked if he just kept hitting that one spot and she felt herself heat even further at the way he looked back at her.
“Fucking prat never made you feel like this, did he?” He panted, and Hermione shook her head, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. She was so close, only a little more, and she’d be there. His hand grabbed for her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she felt herself come to the edge again.
“No one has ever made me feel like you, Draco,” she moaned and watched as his pupils dilated even further.
His hips slammed once, twice, three more times before he bottomed out and they crested together, panting hopelessly against each other’s lips and clinging to one another as though they were their lifelines.
When they came down from their high, feeling boneless and sated, they smiled and she giggled in almost disbelief at what had just transpired between them.
Seeing as he already began to soften inside her, Draco pulled out, watching as his cum leaked from her onto the desk, and conjured a cloth to clean her up before he tugged her knickers back in place and smoothed out her skirt.
Righted at last, they walked to retrieve their bags, and before Hermione could undo the charms on the door, he held her wrist.
“Who would I have to beat up if I wanted to do that again?”
Honey met silver as a grin crossed her face and she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his once more.