All the Right Moves

Hermione made her way from the Head Girl common room. She could hardly believe that she had to share the area with her most hated enemy. Draco and she had despised each other since their first year. She mostly figured that was due to her friendship with Harry Potter. Also there was her heritage to consider. Hermione was muggle-born; or born to a family of non-magic folks. Most people would not consider that a problem and treated her with much respect due to her exceptional ability when it came to magic; everyone that is except Draco. Draco came from a pure-blood family which turned its nose at everyone that wasn’t. He had been calling her a mudblood for years, which is a heinous term for someone of muggle-born heritage.

When she had received the news that she was going to be head girl she was elated. She figured that she would be sharing the title with her best friend Harry. After contacting him over the summer she discovered that Harry did not receive the title of Head Boy. Hermione was puzzled over this. She racked her brain to figure out who else would even come close to receiving that honor. She finally stopped worrying about it, and figured she would learn who it was when she made it to the Head Girl car on the Hogwart’s Express.

She had arrived early to the Platform 9 ¾ at the King’s Cross Station. She made her way into the car, and sat down. She immediately opened her bag and took out her books for the new year. She had spent weeks reading. She was determined to make a good impression and be the best Head Girl that Hogwarts had ever had.

She sat there with her nose in her book, when all the sudden she heard in a familiar icy tone, “Oh isn’t this just perfect.” She looked up and looked at the boy in a mixture of surprise and contempt.

He was tall, about 6’2”. He was slender, but toned, and had obviously spent some time outdoors over the summer as he was sporting a tan; a much better look than the pasty white skin he used to have. Her eyes gazed upwards and she took in the platinum hair, which had grown out a bit, and was not plastered to his head; rather it was intentionally loose and misplaced, giving him a rumpled bed head look. Then her eyes locked with his. Brown doe-eyes met steel gray eyes which were full of intensity. She had never noticed how attractive he was, but then he opened his mouth to speak, and that brought her crashing back to reality.

He said disgustedly, “I cannot believe that they would give such an honor to a filthy little mudblood. This is why father has been trying to get rid of Dumbledore for years.”

Her cheeks got pink with fury and she stood up. She didn’t know if she over-reacted because of what he had said to her, or whether it was because she was embarrassed that she had been looking so keenly at him.

She spat back at him, “Well I don’t understand why they would give the head boy position to a conceited, nasty little ferret. But there is a reason your poor excuse of a father could not get rid of Dumbledore, and that is because he simply isn’t powerful enough to. Dumbledore is many times the wizard your pathetic excuse for a father is, and by the way I’m no happier about this than you are.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she felt a sharp pain across her face and she fell backward into her seat. Draco had slapped her hard against the face, and caused her to loose her balance and she fell to her seat. When she felt her dress robes rode up her legs a bit, and showed the creamy expanse of skin that made up her shapely legs. She peered up at him looking hurt and angrier than he had ever seen her.

He looked down at her, looking contemptible and said, “Don’t you ever speak poorly of my father again, or you will get much worse than that, mudblood.” At this he turned and walked out of the room to leave her to think about what had transpired.


As he left the Head Boy car, Draco mind was a swirling mass of confusion. He actually felt bad for slapping her, but the defiant part of him told him it was justifiable. She had insulted his father, and that was something that was unforgivable. Then his thoughts turned back to Hermione’s legs. They were slender, but shapely. They were a beautiful shade of honey brown. Obviously she had spent some time out in the sun, probably in one of those bikinis that the muggles liked to wear in the summer time. Then Draco imagined her in a bikini.

It was true, Hermione was attractive, her hair was no longer bushy; she had apparently learned how to tame it and it fell in soft waves. She had large brown eyes, that were large, but in a good way. She also had a great looking body. She was slender, but she was very developed. Draco could almost imagine the soft curves of her body writhing beneath him, but then he thought about her status. She was an infuriatingly smart, talented witch, but she was an insufferable know-it-all. She also stood up to him, which he was not accustomed to; his father had long ago taught him that women were not equals with them. They were meant to do a man’s bidding, no questions asked.

He couldn’t believe that he had spent so much time thinking about her. He made his way to the car with some of his fellow Slytherins including his personal tramp, Pansy Parkinson. She had been in love with him as long as he could remember, but she knew her place. Despite the fact she was beautiful, and respectful, and did whatever he asked, he could never love her. He had no respect for her. But he had been spending too much time thinking about the mudblood, and he was desperate to do anything to get his mind off her. He walked into their car, and told the other’s to get lost.

He walked over to Pansy and pushed her to her knees. Pansy unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper without him saying a word to her. She knew what he wanted, and she was determined to be the best girl for Draco. She did not want him considering any other girls and getting his kicks elsewhere. She wanted to marry him after Hogwarts, and start a family. Granted she hadn’t told Draco any of this, but that was because she didn’t want to anger him.


She remembered what happened when she tried to ask him whether she was his girlfriend or not. He slapped her and pushed her down and had his way with her. He had been so angry he had only sought his needs, and it hurt when he had entered her. He pounded into her without considering her needs. He pulled out quickly when he was about to come, and he came all over her. He called her a dirty little slut, and left her a mess and crying. He didn’t come and see her for a month after that. She knew she was being punished for trying to push him. She never brought back up anything that was pressure him after that.

She pulled his cock out of his pants. She licked up and down the shaft slowly, as if licking an ice cream cone, and then she took him into her mouth. She applied light pressure as she sucked his dick; while she simultaneously kneaded his balls in her hand. She knew what her man liked, and she quickly brought him to climax. He came in her mouth, and she reflexively swallowed it all down. He zippered up his pants and pulled his robes back down.

He turned to Pansy who had risen, and said, “I’ll find you later, you little cocksucker.”

He turned and walked back to the Head Boy car, his head now feeling clearer. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to the mudblood, but he figured whatever fluke of an attraction that he was feeling was just due to pent up sexual frustration, which he just took care of. When he got back to the car, he was surprised to not find her in there with her nose in a book. In fact, she wasn’t there at all. She’s probably off with Potty and the Weasel, he thought. At least I can have some peace and quiet. He didn’t see her again on the train ride.