Pictures

The noise from the dance flitted around her, but she couldn’t hear it. All she could hear was the pulsing of her own heart as she excused herself from her friends, the pounding thumps exploding in her ears and her blood rushing through her veins sounding like river rapids. He’d never wanted to do this so publicly before. She supposed she shouldn’t have danced with Dean. Seamus and Dean had snuck in a bottle of fire whiskey and the effects had made Dean extra affectionate tonight. Dean’s actions while they were dancing were harmless enough, but it did send Pavarti running to her asking if there was something going on between the two of them. However, Dean was not her current problem and neither were Pavarti and the gossip mongers of Hogwarts. Her current problem was waiting on the lawn under the big tree. Making her way onto the courtyard, she passed groups of giggling fourth years and snogging couples. It would be incredibly easy for one of them to wander over to the tree and discover what was about to take place.

She walked to the tree and stood under it, waiting for him. She could feel him watching her and she knew he was trying to make her nervous. It was working. She was about to go back inside and rounded the tree when she came face to face with his cold pale grey eyes. The branches of the tree marred the moonlight so that only his eyes were illuminated, but that was all she needed to know his mood. She could smell him and there was a sour note to the typical sandalwood and musk that usually permeated around him. Apparently Dean and Seamus weren’t the only ones to sneak in a bottle of fire whiskey. She forced herself to remain still as he regarded her and she met his gaze. She had done this enough times now that she shouldn’t feel embarrassed, yet she always did.

He leaned forwards and kissed her, demanding, passionate and angry. He had no right to be, and yet he was. Exclusiveness wasn’t a part of their deal. He ran his tongue over hers and she fought for dominance, eventually winning before he pulled away and grabbing her by the shoulders, pushed her to the ground.

“I thought I told you to wear blue,” he growled as he fumbled under her dress pulling at her knickers.

“I wore blue to the last dance we had.” She bucked into his hand as his fingers stroked her wetness before plunging into her core. He played with her folds a few moments before undoing his trousers, causing his enormous cock to come into view. The sight of it always made her catch her breath and she still wasn’t sure how he managed to fit all of it inside her.

“No matter,” he grunted as he positioned the head of his shaft at her entrance. “I hope you keep this dress. The color pink goes very well with the virginal façade you’re trying to keep up and I want you to remember that I fucked you while you wore it, right outside, less than twenty yards from where your friends and head of house were. I hope you weren’t planning to go back to the Gryffindor rooms with Thomas, because I doubt he’ll be pleased that not only are you not a virgin, but you wreak of another man.” He began pumping into her with abandon and she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in closer and biting on his ear to hear him hiss.
“You bastard, I hate you,” she said as his thrusts became painfully slow and deep.

“Don’t talk dirty, love. I don’t need it. You in this dress almost made me come just watching you come down the stairs. I’m glad they made that stupid rule that the Head Boy and Girl had to attend the Leaver’s Ball together. I wouldn’t have been able to stand watching Thomas run his slimy hands all over you.”

“Why should you care what I do with Dean? All you care about is making sure that your part of the bargain gets fulfilled.”

“I’ve just decided that I don’t share,” he groaned as he pulled one of her legs up to rest on his shoulder.

“What!” she cried and attempted to sit up, but he pushed back down. “You can’t just change the rules like that!”

“I can change the rules whenever I want. You’re more than welcome to leave our little bargain. I’m sure Potter would love to see those pictures as would Dean. I could make copies and hand them out on graduation day. I bet your parents would love to see their little girl wrapped around her best friend’s most loathed enemy like a whore.” He paused to shift inside her and he moved the top of her dress down so that one of her pert nipples was exposed. Suckling on her like a babe he began to pump in earnest again. Hermione closed her eyes and cursed him for being so good at what he did. She knew she would agree to his terms because she was terrified of what might happen if those pictures got out. Closing her eyes and losing herself in the feeling, she thought back to six months ago and the events that caused the pictures to happen in the first place.


~~~~~FLASHBACK~~~~~

She ran through the halls with tears staining her eyes, but not yet falling. She wouldn’t let them fall until she was safely back in the Head’s common room. She had just gone to Gryffindor Tower to see her friends and to visit Ron. The two of them weren’t officially dating, but they had kissed out by the lake and he’d carried her books to class for her all week. She wanted to talk to him and find out what they were so she headed through the portrait of the Fat Lady and into the comfort of her house common room. Everyone had been warm, but vague in answering questions of Ron’s whereabouts. Finally, Colin Creevey let it slip that he was in his dormitory. Hermione tried to head up, but Dean stopped her saying she might not want to see what was up there. A dreadful feeling in her stomach made her push past Dean and when she got to their room her heart stopped. Ron was fucking Lavender Brown on his bed like his life depended on it. They never even noticed that she was there because she ran from the scene immediately.

Finally coming to her own portrait she shuffled in and flopped down on the couch letting her tears fall. She would always be the good girl that boys took home to their mothers and slept around on when her back was turned. Was she that awful that she couldn’t inspire passion in somebody? Yes, she was bookish, but she certainly wasn’t ugly and it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t be willing to have sex with someone she cared for, she just didn’t advertise it the way that Lavender did. Leaning back into the sofa she hit something hard. Reaching under the cushion she pulled out a bottle of Ogden’s Fire Whiskey. She’d never drank before, but now felt like the perfect time to start.

Three shots in she was feeling very warm and much better about herself. The portrait opened and the head boy walked in. If he was shocked to see the normally stringent Hermione Granger drunk, he didn’t show it. Rather he sat down and asked her why she felt it necessary to pinch from his stash. Taking another shot she relayed the story to him and poured her heart out. When she was done he didn’t say anything, he merely leaned forward and kissed her. She accepted the kiss and before long she was putting all her frustration from being rejected by Ron into giving the Head Boy the snog of his life. She drank more of the whiskey and at some point her robes and tie came off before she was being carried upstairs to his room. Everything else was a bit hazy after that.

When she woke up, her head was pounding and her mouth tasted like she had given Crookshanks a bath with her tongue. She stretched her legs and that was when she realized she wasn’t alone. There was an arm over her waist that curled in reflexively pulling her closer when she tried to move away. As her backside touched the skin of that person, she realized she was naked. Knowing that there was only one person that it could possibly be, she steeled herself and rolled over to look into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“Morning, love,” he said with a sarcastic smirk. She concentrated very hard on not screaming and shimmied out from under him to try to retreat back to her own room. She only got as far two steps away before he was up and had snaked a hand between her thighs, his long fingers gripping the tender flesh to tug her back to him. When she stumbled he pushed his arms under her and lifted her back to the center of his bed, laying his lean, naked body on top of hers. “Where do you think you’re going? You promised me another round in the morning.”

“Another what?” Hermione was horrified. Not only was she intimately pressed up against her best friend’s nemesis, it had become apparent that she had done something with him last night. “I don’t have to do anything Malfoy, now get off of me.” She had to get out of there. Most of all she had to prevent Harry and Ron from finding out.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chastised. “You promised me and I intend to collect. You put on one hell of a performance last night Granger. If I hadn’t seen the blood for myself I would never have believed that last night was your first time.”

Hermione went cold. She was sore between her legs and Malfoy’s comments made her freeze. She couldn’t have, could she? “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.

“Oh you don’t, hm?” he smirked at her discomfort. “How about I give you some proof? You were more than willing to smile for the camera.” Leaning over her he retrieved a set of pictures, but not before bending to her exposed breast to flick his tongue across her sensitive pink nipple.

“How did you get pictures developed so quickly if they were taken last night?” she asked, dread filling her stomach.

“I created a dark room in my closet. Photography has always been a hobby of mine. Once you were asleep I had to get these developed, they were too good to wait. You talk in your sleep, by the way.”

“I do not!” she squeaked before taking the stack of moving pictures he offered. Once she got them she was horrified. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined doing these things, much less with Draco Malfoy. In one picture, she continually opened her bra and massaged her own breasts while licking her lips at the photographer. In another, she was giving him head and looking up at the camera to wink suggestively. In another she masturbated while wearing his Slytherin tie and nothing else and the final ones were the worst. In each successive one she was wrapped around Malfoy, her hips moving in a desperate attempt to get her own pleasure. In some she was submissive, in others she moved like a wanton little whore. It appeared that they had exhausted every possible position and in each one she was obviously enjoying herself.

“Do you like them? I was considering making a portfolio.” Malfoy slid over to her, taking her in his arms as if they were proper lovers who cared about one another.

“I’m taking these, and I’m leaving!” she exclaimed. She tried once again to exit, but his voice stopped her.

“Go ahead, Granger. If you want your own personal copy that’s fine. I’ll make matching ones for scarhead and the weasel. I’m sure they would love to see what their little princess can do.”

“You wouldn’t…” her mouth was dry. What would people think of her? Would Harry ever look at her the same way if he saw those pictures? Her entire sense of self worth was wrapped up in being the sensible bookworm persona that she portrayed. If she lost that, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. She would lose respect from everyone because she had allowed Malfoy to defile her and she had enjoyed it. Looking at him, she realized that he was deadly serious. He had a lot to gain from taking these pictures public, she didn’t. “What do you want?” she asked him, ready to burst into tears.

“Well, you do owe me another go at it and I’ve got a little morning glory that won’t take care of itself, pet.” He smirked and leaned back in bed.

“So, if I sleep with you again, you’ll give me the negatives?”

“No, I just won’t show these pictures to your Gryffindor friends. You can’t doctor photographs in the wizarding world, so they’ll know you had a smashing good time.”

“I could say you put the Imperious curse on me.”

“Look at your eyes, pet. You don’t have the glazed, zombie look of someone under the Imperious.”

“What will it take to get these back?” She had already resigned herself to her fate.

“Oh, I’ll think of something. For now though, I want complete access to you in exchange for making certain that these pictures aren’t blown up to life size proportions and hung in the Great Hall.”

“What do you mean ‘complete access’?”

“I mean, I want you at least twice a week. You’re a bloody good shag, Granger, and I’m not giving that up.”

“Are you completely crazy? No!”

Malfoy pretended to think for a moment. “I wonder how long it will take before Potter decides to speak to you again.”

Hermione sighed in defeat. This would hurt Harry terribly. The war was over and although Malfoy had not joined the Death Eaters, his father had done enough harm for six more Malfoy generations to be tainted by his name. Harry had never trusted Malfoy and still hated him with a passion. So did Ron, for that matter, but Hermione didn’t give one whit for Ron at the moment. “Fine, but I want your word that those pictures and this…this ‘affair’ will never see the light of day in Hogwarts.”

Smirking, Draco replied, “You’ve got it.” With that, he covered her body with his own and proceeded to take what was promised to him.

~~~~~END FLASHBACK~~~~~

When Hermione came, Draco drank her moan before spilling his warm seed into her belly. He lay inside her for a moment before getting up and adjusting his dress robes. Hermione sat up and fixed her hair before letting Draco help her to her feet. Feeling their combined fluids on her thighs, she rubbed them together before trudging back to the ball room and the oblivious couples that were her friends. Hoping that no one had noticed her absence she made her rounds through the room making sure that everything was okay. When she looked over at Ron and Lavender snogging their hearts out, she couldn’t hide the twinge of jealousy she felt. Why couldn’t Ron have noticed her?

Draco stepped back into the Great Hall and watched the head girl attempt to look as if she hadn’t just had her brains shagged out by her best friend’s enemy. Said best friend was currently talking to her and looking at her with pity as she looked on at the Weasel and Lavender Brown. The weasel really didn’t know what he was missing. He’d gotten head from Brown last year and while she was willing, she was unenthusiastic. The Weasel’s loss had been Draco’s gain, however. Since deflowering the head girl he’d only had one or two trysts with other girls just so that he didn’t lose face or make anyone suspicious, but he hadn’t even wanted any of those. Granger was giving him exactly what he needed and it was all the sweeter because not only could he make her squirm, it was happening right under Potter’s nose.


They had agreed on at least two shags a week and Hermione never disappointed. Draco thought of how ironic it was that the one girl that didn’t want a repeat performance of his skills in bed was the only one not clamoring for it. He usually made it a habit to not sleep with the same girl too much. They tended to get too clingy. He knew he was good in bed, but what most girls were after was his fortune. Since his father’s fall from grace he had inherited the Malfoy fortune and properties. At least with Hermione he knew she didn’t have any designs on trapping him into marriage. It was incredibly freeing to be able to fuck without looking for ulterior motives. He knew she wouldn’t be in his bed if he didn’t have such good dirt on her, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was screwing the Gryffindor Princess almost nightly, no strings attached. Watching her exit the ball, Draco decided that he would leave as well. He wanted to watch her take off her jewelry and dress and then he wanted to fuck her into the mattress. Twice in one night would be heavenly and if she passed out in his bed, he could finagle a morning shag out of her as well. Grinning to himself he made his way to the head dorms blessing the day his mother insisted he take up photography.