Draco Malfoy is a Sexy Bass Turd

This is written for the cliché challenge at Granger Enchanted. I picked Head Girl! Hermione, which isn’t exactly a stretch for me since Hermione is Head Girl in like half of my fics anyways lol… so woo hoo cliché!!

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It was at the final quidditch match of the season that she first noticed him... really noticed him. Slytherin had been taken down once again by the famous Boy Who Hadn’t Died Yet, and although she cheered and clapped like a loon with the rest of her house, her attentions were far from focused on the giant gold cup that was being handed to her best friend. No, her eyes had drifted elsewhere, and were now stuck like flies to a sticky paper trap, unable to save herself from certain death.

Because certain death it would be indeed. Though at first she was only aware of the pale, sweaty, muscular abs of the boy in question, it was just a matter of time before the rest of him came into focus. He had ripped off his muddy robes and threw them to the ground in a huff over the loss. Hermione on the other hand, was in a different kind of huff, over a different kind of loss…One from the loss of the green quidditch uniform. When did he grow up from the scrawny little prat she knew and loathed?

If only it could have been anyone else. Literally anyone else could have been at least mildly acceptable. But it wasn’t. It was Draco Malfoy she was drooling over. The bane of her existence since her very first year at Hogwarts, and who was supposed to continue to make her cringe until graduation. She would never forgive her traitorous eyes and pestilent hormones for this.

What she really had to ask herself was why. Why now, after she had spent all this time in close quarters with him while they went about their Head duties in forced politeness? Well, only in the presence of others of course, behind closed doors it was the same as always. Mudblood this, and ferret that… Bastard, whore, bitch, know-it-all, prick… I hate you, don’t touch me, don’t look at me, don’t breathe my air, don’t use my razor, etc. etc. etc…

It just didn’t make any sense. Luckily she only had a mere four days to go before she would get too caught up in exams to busy herself with these unwanted feelings. Four days was hardly any time at all. It wasn’t even a week. She could ignore her urges for a measly four days. It couldn’t be that hard… right?

Right!

Day one. She woke up, showered, brushed her teeth, failed to tame her hair and struggled to pack her many books into her schoolbag. Mafloy stormed over to her while she was eating, berated her for using his razor (like he needed to shave!), and she had followed him into the hallway where they engaged in their daily heated feud.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to use my razor? If I wanted to share with filthy mudbloods I’d be sure to let you know! In the mean time, get your own damn shaver!”

“First off, how dare you approach me at breakfast in front of my friends, ever do it again and I’ll reciprocate the gesture and see how you like it,” she stated scathingly, satisfied that he held his tongue, as it meant her threat hit home.

“Secondly,” she continued. “I would use my own razor but you keep throwing them away! And it’s not like you have anything that needs shaving, you couldn’t grow a beard if you bathed in hair growth solution!” She met his gaze and crossed her arms, daring him to counter her. Her eyes narrowed when he only smirked at her outburst, igniting her anger a step further.

“”Firstly,” he mocked her in a high-pitched, bossy girl voice. “I wouldn’t have to throw them out if you would stop leaving them in my shower.”

“You leave yours in our shower!” she interrupted him, flaring up in an instant.

“Secondly,” he proceeded on as if she hadn’t said a word. He leaned towards her and she reflexively took a step back, her breath hitching in her throat. His smirk widened and he took another step so she was pressed against the wall, his lips barely an inch from her ear. “Someday soon, you’ll appreciate a man that shaves there, mark my words, Granger…” he whispered huskily. His hot breath sent shivers down her spine, his musky cologne clouding her judgment, and his proximity making her heart beat uncomfortably hard against her chest.

A second later he was gone, or maybe it wasn’t a second, it could have been years and her mind would still be trying to comprehend what had just happened. For the briefest of moments, his lips had brushed up against her ear. He had intimately touched her, and it was one hundred percent deliberate, one hundred and ten percent intoxicating… and eighty-seven thousand percent wrong!

She tried to move but her legs quaked beneath her, so she remained safely propped against the wall. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not now, not when she had the most important exams of her life coming up. Not with the one person she couldn’t be with; the man she despised more than flying, Umbridge, and ex Minister Fudge put together!

She crumpled to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She had to ride this out, this- whatever it was- with Malfoy. Her future depended on it.

The morning of day two was, if possible, worse than day one. She had moved on from hope, to straight on denial. She had nothing to worry about. Pshhh… Malfoy, what Malfoy? She didn’t like him, or want him, or need him in any way, shape, or form. Any feelings she had thought she had for him, were simply a figment of her imagination, brought on by extreme stress for the upcoming exams.

She continued to tell herself this all throughout the day. At breakfast when Harry had questioned her if Crookshanks was ready to go home, and she had mumbled something about “bastard ferrets” as way of response before shoving a large amount of eggs in her mouth, she had explained it away as a simple word mix up. After all, ferrets were rodents, and mice were rodents, and surely Crookshanks would miss the many ‘bastard’ mice in the castle.

In class when Professor Flitwick had asked her the incantation to test if food was fully cooked, and she had jumped in her seat and answered “Make-o Doll foy” without even hearing the question, the professor had excused her. The little wizard even sympathized with her, and said that he understood how stressful exam time could get, especially for the seventh years. She was very stressed, and if it was a good enough excuse for the professor, it was good enough for her as well.

She daydreamed her way through the rest of her day two classes, unable to keep her mind free from visions of blonde hair, grey eyes, and an infuriating half smirk for long enough to have any idea what was going on around her. Only when Harry gripped her by the shoulders and shook did she snap to attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and by that time the class had already filed out.

She had skipped dinner and locked herself in her bedroom, where she took out her frustrations on her pillow. She could no longer deny the attraction to the pureblooded prat. Now she was just angry. This was all Draco’s fault, and Merlin help him if she got anything less than ‘Outstanding’ on any of her NEWTS! The little bastard was probably doing this on purpose just so he could finally beat her top grades.

Well, she wasn’t the brightest witch of her year for nothing. She would just have to march right up to that slimy git and show him what she was made of! She’d curse the sexiness right off him and be good as new!

This seemed like the perfect plan, as it combined all her feelings from the past two days; hope, anger, and of course, denial, because she was fooling herself if she thought that it would actually work.

She waited for him to come back from dinner, ignoring the stabbing hunger pains emitting from her gut, and focused solely on what she was going to say.

Listen here, Malfoy. I don’t care if you think you’re God’s pureblooded gift to mankind or if you’re Filch’s long lost love child, nothing gives you the right to corner me like you did in the corridor this morning. I’ve had to look at your pointy ferret face every single day this year, and frankly, I can’t take it anymore. Now, after this weekend is through, we have a week of exams and a week of waiting, and starting this very second I don’t want to see your scowling face or hear your ferret voice ever again. Do I make myself clear?

“Good evening my bushy-haired beaver. I see you’re going for the ‘extra bush- less beaver’ look today. I really think it suits you,” Draco spoke in pompous cheerfulness as he made his way across their common room. Hermione snapped out of her mental chastisement of him long enough for her blood to boil and send steam shooting out her ears. That’s what she felt like at least. The sight of him sneering cheekily at her while she was on the verge of an eruption of volcanic proportions was enough to blind her of all the self-control she had ever possessed. With her hands balled at her sides and her heartbeat pounding like kettledrums against her temples, she saw red.

“ARRRGGGGG! I hate you I hate you I HATE YOU! I HOPE YOU TRIP ON YOUR FERRET TAIL AND FALL OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH YOU VILE RODENT SCUM!” she screeched at the top of her lungs, her face scrunched up and her hands tangled in her frizzy hair. So much for the speech she had so painstakingly composed, though screaming felt a lot better than being calm and collected at the moment.

She let her heavy breathing subside, and slowly lifted herself off the couch, glaring around the room. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

“Did you say something, mudblood?” he drawled as he exited his bedroom. Their dorms were on the second floor, connected by a balcony that overlooked the common area. Hermione was seething at this point. If she was going to go through all that effort to explode, he had damn well better be in the room to witness it! But no, he had just kept on walking like he had better things to do… The nerve of him!

“I said I-“ She stopped, she couldn’t speak another word. Draco had just taken his last steps down the staircase, revealing the reason he had ducked into his bedroom. He was now wearing a loose-fitting pair of black swim trunks. They looked like they could fall off at any minute, barely hanging on by his protruding hipbones. A faint trail of hairs from his navel disappeared under the elastic band of the shorts. No shirt, just a towel slung casually over his shoulder.

The temperature in the room soared and Hermione’s throat went dry. Someone with the personality of a rusty nail should not be allowed to look that good.

“If you’re going to gape at me like that, I think I should charge,” he sneered at her, running a hand through his silky blonde locks, his lips cocked to the side in his trademark smirk. Hermione’s mouth snapped shut, but she was still at a loss for words.

Her brain had shut down and let her hormones take over. A primal urge from deep within an unknown part of her insides fought its way to the surface. She wanted to tear away those bothersome shorts and feast on his sculpted manly body until the aching hunger between her legs was satisfied.

She vaguely heard his light footfalls as he walked towards her. Only when they ceased did she seemingly come out of her trance. He was standing in front of her now, barely two inches away. Her feet slid backwards until her calves hit the sofa, and she fell back into the cushions, gawking up at him. He placed a hand on either side of her head, leaning down so he was staring straight into her wide, brown eyes. She gulped.

“Took you long enough to catch on, Granger. All year we’ve been forced on each other… I’ve been forced to share living quarters with the likes of you, and I can honestly say it’s been Hell on Earth. It’s only made me hate you more than ever, because inside that hate, lies something else, something deeper… beyond our control. I knew it would only be a matter of time until you felt it too…”

His voice came out in a low whisper, sending her senses into overdrive. She swore she could feel every particle of hot air that hit her cheek. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end, frozen in the spell of his words. He bent lower and continued, his nose buried in her hair and his lips just grazing the lobe of her ear.

“I’ve at least been able to let out some of my frustrations on a select few of ah- privileged witches. But you couldn’t get a man in your knickers if you lured him there with riches and sweets. So now you’re feeling it tenfold, and you know as well as I, that there’s only one thing you can do to stop it.”

He caught the sensitive skin of her cartilage between his teeth and ran his tongue along the edge. She let out a soft whimper, unable to control the noise from leaving her parted lips. Her entire body was on fire, practically shaking with unrequited need. Chuckling lightly, he pushed himself off the back of the couch and into a standing position.

“Where are you going?” she asked before she could stop herself. He slowly turned to face her, wearing an expression so smug it should have been illegal.

“NEWTS are coming up, Granger. I’ve got some studying to do down at the lake… Everyone knows the first thing they test on is the Bubble-Head Charm,” he replied smoothly.

“Oh… right,” she managed to squeak out. She breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the portrait. She needed him as far away from her as possible. She didn’t trust herself to resist him any longer, and by the way he spoke to her only minutes before, she knew he wouldn’t refuse her. It was a deathly combination. Thank Merlin he was leaving for the night.

“You’re welcome to join me,” he called from the portrait entrance. He closed it behind him a second later, without waiting for a reply. He didn’t need to hear it, he knew exactly what she would do. If the intense urges she was feeling were even half as strong as his own, she stood no chance in hell of fighting them off. He figured a cool dip in the lake would sustain him until she overcame her inner goody-two-shoes and joined in.

Meanwhile, Hermione was holding a pillow to her face and screaming. It was the only thing that even began to relieve the tension she felt all over, but the second she stopped, it returned with a vengeance. Her lips ached to be kissed, her breasts yearned to be fondled, and her core was throbbing to be filled. She felt drugged, and exhausted from fighting it. He had entered her bloodstream, surfing through her veins like a poison and burning her from within. The cure would be nothing more than fighting poison with poison, and she’d already had a taste. There was no going back, she knew it was pointless to resist.

On her way up to the bathroom to grab a towel she vaguely registered the sad thought that she hadn’t even lasted two days. Two days trying not to crave the man she loathed, and she’d caved like a moldy ceiling tile.

She was pathetic.

No, she wasn’t. She was Hermione Granger, model student, best friend of the Chosen Boy Who Lived Again (and again, and again, and again...), Head Girl with top grades in every subject, and the list just went on and on. All this, and she was now being manipulated by something she’d never before deemed important enough to be granted a second thought. Something she always believed was for lesser beings, who simply lacked the mental capacity to be fulfilled by reading a book or solving a difficult Arithmancy equation. Sure she had occasionally felt the tickle of arousal when she’d read about sexual education, or when her fellow students were putting on those horrid public displays of affection, but she’d been able to ignore it then.

This time was different though. It was all consuming, like her female anatomy was revolting against her. It seemed to have quietly built up an army while she was busy pretending it didn’t exist. The revolution was imminent.

She wanted sex, and she wanted it bad.

As a last, desperate attempt to salvage what remained of her dignity, she turned into her bedroom and grabbed for a book. She threw herself on her bed and tried with all her heart to concentrate strictly on the yellowed sheets of Hogwarts, a History.

Three pages in and she knew it was hopeless. Only certain words like ‘rise up’ and ‘indulge’ registered in her brain. How was she supposed to study for NEWTS? If she couldn’t even focus on her favorite book of all time, there was no way she’d be able to get through her numerous textbooks.

She knew what had to be done. She hadn’t worked this hard for almost seven years just to throw it all away because she was too proud to sleep with her mortal enemy. If sex was the one thing that stood between her and the perfect score on the tests, then so be it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and the thought of getting a mere ‘Excellent’ on the end of the year exams was her idea of a very desperate time.

Without further ado, she slipped on a pair of sandals, snatched a towel from the bathroom rack, and stormed from the common room like a tigress on the prowl.

Her mind was spinning as she descended the many staircases and sped down the empty halls. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, and more importantly, how bad she wanted to do it. It was so unlike her! Her nerves were tingling just thinking about it, the tension and excitement acting like an overdose of caffeine potions. How far would they really go? Maybe all she needed was to kiss him and this whole thing would end. Maybe she had just gone temporarily insane and the cool air would bring the real Hermione back to life. Maybe she would get down there and be so revolted by the sight of his half-naked body glistening in the moonlight that she would-

Ravage him like a-

“Hermione!”

“Harry wha- Ack!” she screeched, tripping over her own feet and tumbling forwards in a jumble of terrycloth and Hogwarts’ robes. Harry caught her a second before she hit the ground. Of course, she had expected him to in all honesty. Harry had the hero gene implanted in him since age one, and had saved her life more times than she could count on two hands and feet. She felt secure and safe in his arms… He was strong! She knew it of course, they had all grown up considerably in the past years, but she had never felt it first hand like this.

She found herself breathing rather hard, and not just from her near brush with death… err… well, near brush with minor injury. Her lungs filled to the brim with the musky scent that was Harry Potter, and her skin tingled where his hands were gripping her arms.

Oh no, this can’t be happening!

“You ok, Hermione?”

“Yeah, thanks, Harry,” she told him while attempting to gracefully regain her footing. To her dismay, Harry kept a safe arm around her shoulder as they continued down the hall to no place in particular. In no time at all she was subconsciously snuggling against him, enjoying the security she felt tucked under his arm.

“Where were you going?” she asked him.

“Oh, nowhere I guess, just trying to clear my head,” he shrugged. Hermione wasn’t surprised. Ginny had dumped him over a month ago, and ever since he’d been more withdrawn and spent a lot of time wandering off by himself. Neither of them gave any explanation for the break-up, and no one had expected it. As far as Hermione knew, they weren’t even fighting! She was curious, and perhaps Harry needed to talk about it in order to move on?

“Harry, do you... you know… want to talk about anything?”

He stopped and turned to face her, his brows furrowed and his dark green orbs studying her critically. She was taken back by the intensity she saw in his eyes. They almost seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the- now incredibly warm- corridor.

“You mean, do I want to talk about Ginny, don’t you?”

She only nodded, nervous all of a sudden, for no apparent reason.

“Things just got… complicated… She wanted… things…”

Something clicked in Hermione’s head. It surprised her and turned her on all at once, and then scared her out of her wits because she was so turned on. She wasn’t supposed to think of Harry as a sexual being with sexual problems and needs!

“She wanted to be intimate with you?” she asked him softly. Curiosity was going to be the death of her.

Harry let out a puff of air and stared determinedly at the ground.

“Yes…” he said so low that she barely heard him. She placed a hand on his arm. He seemed to tense and relax all at once. And then it was like a switch turned on to release the floodgates, and he was letting out everything he’d held in for so long, unable to stop.

“It’s not like I didn’t want to! She’s just so much more, well… experienced than I am and she’s been with guys who are experienced and with everything that has happened I haven’t had time to- well… you know!” he said in one breath, waving his arms for emphasis. Hermione nodded encouragingly and he continued.

“She couldn’t even talk to me anymore, she just wanted sex! Then I lied and said I’d already done it plenty of times so then even if I wanted to do it with her I couldn’t because then she’d know I lied!”

“That’s perfectly understandab-EEK!” she squealed, losing her balance for a second time. Harry caught her… again. They started walking and he placed his arm around her… again. It was way too hot in the castle. From far away the cool lake called to her invitingly. Harry had become quiet again, and she didn’t know what else to say to him. Her brain was thinking horribly dirty things, and she was afraid she’d offer to help him ‘practice’ if she opened her mouth.

So, they continued to walk in awkward silence. Hermione thanked some unknown deity when they made it down an entire staircase still in the upright position, inhaling deeply in relief. Again his scent infiltrated her being. She was reminded of Draco, and how he always smelled of the outdoors, even in the winter months.

She’d never noticed this about Harry. Actually, she’d never noticed a lot of things about her friend. Like how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, and how green and intense his eyes would get when he was worried about someone he loved. He’d grown into such a handsome man right before her eyes, only she was too busy with her head in a book to notice.

Suddenly she understood why people said not to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach. Her hunger for all things male had her lusting after her very best friend! In her eyes she could sink no lower, which was what she had thought when she wanted to feast on Draco’s evil rodent man parts! This was worse! With Draco at least she could just have a simple night of hokey-pokey and go about her life as if it didn’t happen. If she acted on any feelings for Harry it would change everything between them. She had to get away. She had to get to Draco and get rid of these urges before she did something really stupid.

“What are you doing out, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in the library studying?” Harry asked her, thankfully breaking the silence between them.

Yes she should be studying… She would be if it wasn’t for the current circumstances. Was she really that predictable?

“Yes I was umm… just going down to the lake to practice the Bubble Head Charm, everyone knows that it’s always on the test,” she replied quickly. It was the first thing that popped into her head, but she instantly regretted it. If she was in fact about to get busy with her sworn enemy, telling Harry where she would be was about the stupidest thing she could possibly have done.

“Oh great, I’ll just run up and get my trunks on and join you,” he said brightly.

“Oh Harry but-“ Too late. He was already sprinting down the corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. Now what was she supposed to do? All she wanted was to get herself screwed, and instead she had royally screwed herself.

She figured she had two options. One would be to head Harry off and convince him that studying in the common room would be much more efficient. Only, that would leave her and Harry to themselves, and something told her that that was not a good idea. The other option would be to run down to the lake, find Draco, and move them to a more secluded area. Harry would probably just think she’d changed her mind, it wouldn’t be the first time. And besides, he did have five floors to go just to get his swim shorts, and then he still had to backtrack down. Whereas, she was only two levels above the ground floor…

Her feet started moving below her towards a cocky blonde Slytherin, propelled by the electric sparks that were currently coating her knickers. Only one thing was certain…

Every year of school had ended with an adventure, to say the least. Year one they went through the trapdoor to reach the Philosopher’s Stone. In their second year she had awoken from being petrified only days before the trip home. Year three she had helped Sirius escape with Harry. Fourth year was the return of Voldemort. Fifth year was the journey into the Ministry, and the past year was the death of Dumbledore followed by the most prolific war the wizarding world had ever known.

This year would be no exception. Even with Lord Voldemort six feet under, she was going to end the year with a bang. It was fate!

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Ok so I really wanted to finish this story before I posted it because I don’t like to have so many unfinished WIPs up at the same time (I’m sure you don’t like it either!), but since the deadline to the challenge is creeping up on me I decided to post now. It’s only going to be three chapters, Plot-sex-plot lol. And I am working on my other fics I promise!! Cruel needs like 2 sentences for the next chapter to be done but I’m having a block on it and I cannot seem to spit them out… ERR!! Soon though guys, thanks for sticking with me!!