Nicest Thing

Author’s Note

Sorry for the lack of updates. Summer has arrived and I’m trying to enjoy it as much as I can before school starts up again. I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with Not All That Glitters is Gold and if I am going to write a sequel to Nothing Like You and I. Right now, my muse has decided to go on a little vacation and I’ve become a little obsessed with watched all three seasons of Heroes. I love me some Zachary Quinto. Lol.

Anyway, here is the newest chapter! I hope you like it. It was a little fun to write.






Fourteen tries later and Draco was finally ready to venture out into the Muggle world. Why they opted for various forms of clothing was beyond him. Robes were easy in that wizards and witches of wealth could show off just how much they were worth without deciding what layers went with what. It did help that the wealthy had their own 'stylists' as Muggles would call it - from what he read in the magazine without moving pictures. Strange and captivating all rolled into one.

Draco looked at himself in the mirror and brought his fingers to his hair, fluffing his bangs over to one side. He tilted his head to the side and clasped at the base of the vest he wore. Sneering only slightly, Draco huffed and stalked out of the room.

He paused when he reached the top of his stairs and groaned at the sound of heels clapping on the floor below.

"Draco, love, I was in the neigh-" her shrill voice echoed in the vastness of his large entryway, "What in gods' name are you wearing?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow and moved down the stairs in a quick, yet calm, manner. He paused when he came face to face with the tall, dark haired ex-ex-ex-girlfriend of his; Pansy Parkinson.

"Hm?" Draco asked, looking down over his outfit, "Does it not look good? I have it on authority that this was fashion..."

Pause. She paused and Draco suppressed a smirk. Her eyes danced across his form as a light blush faded across her high cheek bones - obviously she had some major charm work done to un-squish that puggish face she once had.

"Oh no," Pansy squeaked quickly, "I meant to say that you look...ravishing."

She eyed him like a prized cow waiting for the slaughter and she was the proverbial butcher. Draco sniffed and scratched his nose, looking around a little as if waiting for Pansy to hurry up and leave.

But this brought to question exactly how and why she was here; if it was for anything other than to annoy the bloody hell out of him before his date with Granger.

"What can I do you for?" he asked, moving past her into his dining room where he nearly collided with two house-elves bickering about which table linen to use.

"The light viridian," Draco interrupted, watching their round golf ball sized eyes look at him. Draco turned and looked at Pansy, "Well?"

"Oh," Pansy said quietly, trying to put on her best seductive stare.

It reminded Draco of constipation but who was he to judge how some one screwed their face up? Pansy flittered over to him and brought her hand to the crook of his arm, slowly turning him to face her.

"You father sent me," she cooed, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

Of course. The old man was adamant on having Draco pair off with a pureblood that he sent the first thing with two legs and a tiny brain over to try and sway him. Suffice to say; Draco already had Pansy and he was not really impressed.

A woman who cried like a dying cat was hardly attractive, but Draco wasn't one to critique a person on their sexual prowess. Maybe when he was younger it was a kind of sport but certainly not now.

"How much did he pay you?" Draco asked, watching Pansy huff.

"I'm not some kind of scarlet woman, Draco," she hissed, lightly grasping onto his arm, "Your father has the notion that we'll make such a lovely couple and I know the Falmouth Falcons are going to have their annual ball and I was thinking..."

"I already have a date," Draco was quick to interject, clearing his throat loudly with his hand.

Pansy's face fell for a split second before it was overshadowed by the overwhelming look of something smelly under her nose.

"Really?" she asked condescendingly, "And who are you taking?"

"I don't believe it's any of your business," Draco replied, shoving a hand into his pocket. "Besides, it's a few weeks away and things might change between now and then."

Hope. Her normally possessive, annoying glare was changed to hope. Damnit. She smiled wirily at him and rubbed his arm.

"Oh?" batting her lashes, Draco grunted, "Alright. Well, I see you're busy."

"What gave that away?" he muttered, only to hum when she looked at him quizzically, “It was nice to see you again, Pans.”

Draco brought his hand to her lower back to usher her out of the room, fighting the urge to punt her once they reached the threshold of his entryway door. Pansy smiled brightly at him and brought both hands to his chest, letting her fingers slide down the slick buttons of the vest he wore.

“Floo me when you get back home, yeah?” she cooed in a question, leaning up on her toes to brush her lips against his.

Draco craned his neck out of the way very subtlety and heard her moan when her lips touched his chin instead. He brought his hands to her shoulders and literally yanked her from him, putting her at a more accommodating distance.

“That was,” Pansy breathed, apparently trying to make best of the situation – which in her mind she was probably one foot on the Golden Brick road to Draco’s trousers.

“Tell your mother I say hello,” Draco quickly interrupted, turning her promptly and shuttling her out the door.

She spun around to speak but Draco had already slammed the door in her face. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, rubbing his forehead slightly. Draco brought his fingers to his chin and wiped the wetness from his skin.

He frowned and turned toward the stairs, making several short leaps up them in order to wash his face….a couple times.





So, Draco did quite well when it came to being wandless in the Muggle town Hermione lived it. In fact, he had enjoyed it a little more than he should have, especially when Hermione seemed to become livid by his fascination with just about everything and then would help explain everything. He was sure at one point he embarrassed her by asking what a pin-wheel was so loudly that a few people turned to look at him.

They muttered something about him being a tourist, but when Draco wanted to set them straight Hermione had brought her hand to his to silence him. It worked and he found himself smiling; not smirking, grinning, or leering, but smiling.

The moon was high in the sky and the rain never seemed to let up, yet it didn’t matter. Draco was currently sprawled on his back bare-chested. His arm snaked around the shoulders of the bushy-haired former Gryffindor and smirked when her topaz eyes met his.

“What time is it?” she breathed, sitting up slightly.

“3 am,” Draco replied, leaning over to capture her lips.

Hermione moaned into the kiss and brought her hands to his hair. He loved when she ran those dainty fingers through his messy locks. Rolling her over onto her back, Draco fiddled with the sheets that sort of separated them until he was towering over her.

“We should get some sleep,” Hermione whispered, a light shade of pink over her cheeks.

“Sleeping is definitely not what I think we should do,” Draco grinned, settling between her soft supple thighs.

Hermione moaned softly, but not one of pleasure, one of annoyance. He could only find himself smiling down at her. Bringing a hand to her forehead, Draco brushed a lock from her heart-shaped face and trailed his fingers through them.

“You’re like a rabbit,” she sighed, “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Not when I’m having a good time,” Draco replied, brushing his lips against hers.

Hermione wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders and leaned up. Her breasts tickled his chest as she arched her back. Draco devoured her mouth, bringing a hand to her hip just as she began rolling them against him. If she were claiming that he was a rabbit, what did that make her? A bloody minx.

Groaning at the friction, Draco’s breath caught in his throat. He pulled slightly from her as she snaked a hand between them, trailing them down his stomach and lower. Closing his eyes, Draco groaned when her fingers wrapped around his hardening length and slowly began stroking him.

He rocked his hips slowly against her hand, feeling her fingers tighten around him or him growing harder; he couldn’t tell at this moment and he didn’t bloody care. He felt her other hand move to his chest and push him a little.

Moving to his knees quickly, Draco felt the sudden burst of cold air hit his bare skin as the blankets fell from his shoulders and pooled around his thighs. Hermione sat up and brought her lips to his jaw, tracing kisses across his face, down his neck and lower. Much lower.

His eyes fluttered close as he felt the warmth of Hermione’s mouth envelop him. The gods were tormenting him by creating such a lovely creature. Bringing his hand to the top of her head, Draco parted his lips as an ecstatic moan escaped his throat.

Hermione’s hand moved to his thigh, resting it lightly as she traced her tongue along the side of his length. Her warm breath tickled the thick halo of golden hairs surrounding his length, but that hardly mattered. At her precision and increased tempo, Draco found his head rolling back slightly as another groan escaped.

Bringing his hands to her shoulders, Draco brought her to him with a hazy of lust. His lips crashed against hers, tasting himself in their kiss. Hermione’s fingers dug into his shoulders, nipping at his skin lightly as she drank from his mouth.

“Turn around,” Draco breathed, moving Hermione to her hands.

She turned her head and watched over her shoulder as Draco caressed her backside, “You’re such a pervert.”

Draco’s eyes flickered toward her and he grinned, “And you love it, love.”

Positioning himself over her, Draco brought one hand to her shoulder and slammed his hips forward. Hermione let out a small cry and jerked forward with the movement. Setting a quick, rough, pace Draco grunted with each movement. He could feel her constricting walls against him, feel her falling over the edge again and again.

Her hands gripped onto the sheets in front of her as her body bucked under him. Draco listened to her moans surround them and mix with the sounds of their slapping sex. He leaned over, grasping onto the headboard as he drove his hips into her slick cunt.

“Oh gods,” Hermione stuttered, panting heavily as her body swayed.

Draco grunted loudly and snaked a hand over her taut stomach and between her legs. The sound she made when his forefinger and thumb pinched at her sweet bundle at the apex of her thighs made him shudder. She ducked her head, resting it on the pillow as her entire front half of her body fell onto the bed.

The door to her bedroom opened, causing Draco to halt and turn toward the intruder prepared to hex the hell out of them. But instead of an intruder, a human intruder, Hermione’s damn cat sat at the door way with his large glowing yellow eyes.

He felt Hermione’s hand reach out behind him, “Draco, what’s wrong?”

Draco’s nose twitched, “Your cat is in the room.”

“What?” Hermione turned her head and scowled, “Crookshanks! Get!”

Crooks just looked up at them with a quizzical stare and remained still. Hermione waved at the cat to shoo him but it just sat there…staring. Staring.

“Forget him,” Hermione breathed, bringing herself to her elbows, “He’ll leave soon enough.”

Growling slightly, Draco restarted his pace, slowly with stiff strokes. “Forget him?,” he nearly snarled, bringing a hand to her hips. “I’m not fond of a viewing audience.”

Hermione moaned and whispered, “What? Afraid of your inadequacies?”

“Inadequacies?” Draco snorted, increasing his pace, “What inadequacies?”

“It’s just a cat, Draco,” Hermione literally cried out as she came.

Draco grunted at the tightening of her quim around his length and paused only for a second. He brought his lips to her back and snaked an arm around her stomach, propping herself against her. His hips moved, gyrating into her backside with thick heavy slaps that echoed across the room.

“Gods, Draco,” Hermione moaned, burying her face into her pillow as she let out a muffled cry.

“Hermione,” he moaned into her back, his teeth clenched as a loud growl escaped his throat.

His body tensed as he spilled his hot seed into her body, claiming her as his for the umpteenth time this night. Panting heavily, Draco brought his hand to the headboard and pulled himself upward, literally afraid that he’d crush her and smother her in the pillow.

Draco rolled onto his back and had nearly forgotten about the cat when he jumped onto the wicker chair across from the bed. His eyes glared at Draco, warning him not to mess with his owner. Draco sneered and shot a glare back at the cat, almost as if taunting him.

He stopped when Hermione brought her hand to his chest and moved closer to him. Resting her chin on the center of his chest, she smiled.

“Stop glaring at my cat, Draco,” she warned, “You’ll wind up with all of your clothes torn to shreds.”

“Is that a warning?” he asked, puckering his lips slightly, “I think I could take him.”

Hermione giggled and leaned up, pecking his lips, “You wish.”