Pansy's Volcano

They are not mine, which is a shame because I don’t think JKR would let them do this.


Chapter Twenty Eight

Draco had spent the most frustrating afternoon of this term so far. After returning from Hogsmeade he had stomped through the Slytherin dungeons, finding three other members of his Quidditch team who had not taken advantage of the Hogsmeade visit, and ordering them outside for a practice. They seemed duly horrified, as it was already gone 3.00 and the sky was not only darkening with the impending dusk, but also the threat of rain.

However, their Captain was in a strange mood and they knew better than to provoke his uneven temper, so they reluctantly trailed behind him to the broom store.

A light but persistent drizzle began shortly after they began flying but Draco insisted that they continue practicing. At the time the weather had seemed to suit his mood, but as the hour wore on and the players grumbles became louder and the fouls more frequent, Draco finally lost his temper and sent the remnants of team inside to run laps around the training circuit.

He took their brooms himself to put away, slamming the door on the storage room with such force that he heard a couple of brooms fall over inside, but he didn’t bother to rectify the situation. He was cold, wet and hungry, and even after pushing himself to a point of near exhaustion he still couldn’t get the picture of Hermione Granger in her Slytherin-green robes out of his head.

He hadn’t realised quite how late it had gotten, and as he marched towards the Great Hall for dinner and saw that the large clock in the entrance hall was pointing to Hurry up food’s nearly all gone, he acknowledged with a grimace that he probably owed the boys an apology for keeping them outside on the magically lighted Quidditch field for nearly four hours in the rain. He would have to go in to dinner in his wet uniform, and have a shower later.

There were very few students still eating; a couple at each of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, another handful of Gryffindors, but Draco would be the only Slytherin there until his poor victims arrived from the track. He found himself staring at the exact spot where the Gryffindor three usually sat, and suddenly realised that he had spent the past six years sitting in the one position at his own table which gave him the best view of Granger. He wondered if there was some deep mystical meaning to that fact, then told himself that it was just nonsense brought about by hunger.

He rushed the rest of his dinner down and made his way gratefully towards his private rooms, thanking God that he didn’t have to share a bathroom with three other boys any longer. Tonight he wanted all the hot water to himself. He didn’t really expect to see Granger in the study as he passed through, but nonetheless he still felt a pang of disappointment when she wasn’t there.

He went to his own room and shrugged out of his now drying uniform, leaving it in a heap on the floor for the house elves to pick up. He collected a towel and some clean shorts to take into the bathroom with him. It was getting quite late now, and he acknowledged unhappily that he would not be seeing Hermione again today.

Draco decided to take a bath instead of a shower. His clammy wet clothing had made him feel chilled through and his bones were aching after the strenuous practice. He turned on the Wizard Wireless Network as he ran the water into the bath and waited idly by as the bath filled up, listening abstractedly to the music. It was Saturday evening and at this time of night the station played Muggle Request Hour, a selection of only Muggle songs which Draco had come to appreciate more over the previous two summers, away from his father’s influence.

He waited until the water had reached a mark inside the bath which read Danger; overflow likely then dipped the tip of his wand into it murmuring a charm to keep it at the correct temperature, before he stripped off and lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh of relief.

He was slowly drifting into a delicious daydream in which Hermione was sharing this bath with him, when the words of the radio d j penetrated his pleasant little fantasy; ‘And now we have a request from a venerable figure, a wizard who is an inspiration to us all and a man with a name we all know and love! At the very special request of Professor Albus Dumbledore himself, Headmaster of the world renowned Hogwarts school, I bring you Faith Hill and her lovely song, Breathe. Professor Dumbledore has asked that this song be dedicated to all the young lovers out there, to all the Romeos and Juliets of the wizarding world. So here she is.’

As the music began to play, Draco shot up in the water with a splash that sent a small tidal wave across the bathroom floor. That song! Dear Lord, he had almost convinced himself that he had imagined his closing dance with Granger at the Halloween Ball; the fact that his behaviour had never been mentioned by anyone in his own House had finally led him to believe that the whole thing had been an alcohol induced fantasy which he had liked to bring out and enjoy on several occasions since then. But this - this was too much of a coincidence! That a request for the song should have come from the Headmaster himself, and with such an odd dedication? Draco may not have been a follower of the old wizard, but he knew enough of the old codger’s skills and omniscience to accept that there was no such thing as a coincidence where Dumbledore was concerned. After all that was the reason why he had bound all the paintings in the Head’s study and his own bedroom with a privacy spell on the first day of term.

His erotic fantasies about Hermione had evaporated for the time being and Draco laid back again, his mind now trying to decipher what Dumbledore could be scheming which involved himself and the Head Girl.

He must have fallen asleep in the bath, because when he finally stirred to get out he was surprised to see it was almost curfew, and therefore a good thing he wasn’t scheduled for patrol duty tonight. After drying himself and pulling on the shorts he had brought into the bathroom with him he walked into his bedroom, rubbing at his hair with the towel. He was just about to roll into bed and face another night of tossing and turning and dreaming about the Head Girl, when he heard screaming coming from Hermione’s room.

He had snatched his wand from the end of his bed and was halfway across the common room, Alohamora-ing Hermione’s door as he went so that it would be open when he reached it, before he was even aware of what he was doing.

The screaming ceased suddenly and he had enough presence of mind to stop on the threshold and check inside before entering in case there were hordes of criminals (Death Eaters?) in there just waiting to capture as many students as possible. He muttered Lumos and shone the beam from his wand into Hermione’s bedroom checking all the corners, but all he found was the Head Girl herself, sitting upright in the centre of her bed with both hands fisted into her hair.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was panting hard as if she had run a race. No villain then - apparently just a nightmare. However, even dreams could be dangerous; there were many witches and wizards skilled in the art of invading people’s subconscious through the use of psychedelic potions and the power of auto-suggestion, whilst the subject was sleeping.

Draco moved slowly into the room, trying not to startle Hermione. ‘You Okay, Granger?’ He asked as he approached the bed, and she finally opened her eyes to look at him. Her expression showed confusion and the lingering traces of panic; he immediately wanted to kill whoever it had been that caused this fear to disturb her sleep.

‘What happened, Granger?’ he continued, dimming the light at the end of his wand now that he was confident there was no threat within her rooms. ‘Nightmare? Was it about you-know - ah, Voldemort?’

Hermione wouldn’t look at him and instead pulled her hair over her eyes and buried her face in her hands. ‘No, it was nothing really. It was just …..silly,’ she muttered and he frowned. This was not Hermione - like behaviour. He moved closer and perched carefully on the side of her bed.

‘Are you sure? You sounded really freaked,’ he pressed. ‘You can tell me, you know.’

Hermione shuddered. Apart from the whole embarrassment at the subject of her nightmare and her over-reaction to it, she was totally astonished that he was showing such interest and concern.

‘You should tell me,’ he pressed. ‘It’s not good to keep these things bottled up inside. Or should I get one of the - others?’

As he stumbled over his new sensitivity, Hermione was beginning to set her dream into perspective. Here was Draco Malfoy, sitting in her room on her bed, and worrying about her because he felt bad that she had awoken screaming from a nightmare. About a haircut.

Hermione had actually suffered from very few bad dreams over the years; she knew Harry’s rest was constantly disturbed by tormenting images of his parents, and other darker images that Voldemort tried to feed him over the years as he increased and then waned in power. Indeed, it wasn’t truly until he had begun a more physical relationship with Ginny that he began to see less restless nights. But, considering all the things they had shared and experienced, Hermione rarely suffered from nightmares, and all of a sudden it struck her as extremely funny that Draco Malfoy of all people, should be showing concern because she woke screaming from a dream about her own vanity.

She had never much liked her hair, and all of a sudden it seemed hysterical to her that a dream, no less, about having it all cut off should cause her screaming fits. She took another look at Draco’s concerned face and couldn’t contain the laughter any longer. She collapsed back onto her pillows giggling helplessly, and Draco stared at her as if she had totally lost her wits, which only made her laugh harder.

‘Granger,’ he growled. ‘What is your problem?’

Hermione finally stifled her giggles and grinned up at him from her spot on the pillows, and Draco found his breath freezing in his lungs at the impact of that smile which he had seen so many times before, but never, ever directed full force straight at him.

He realized all of a sudden what a precarious position he was in physically. He was perched on Hermione Granger’s bed dressed in nothing but a towel and a pair of boxer shorts, and now that the adrenaline levels were sinking back to normal he was suddenly aware of things which he had not noticed immediately, and considering the way his body reacted around Granger these days, he thought a hasty but strategic withdrawal was in order.

Hermione was wearing a tight grey tank top with a picture of a monkey printed in the center, and a pair of cotton print shorts with smaller simians leaping around all over them. She was breathing fast from her giggling episode, and Draco’s eyes fixated on the outline of her nipples against the thin grey cotton as she breathed in and out. He could feel all his blood rushing downwards, which would be an unconcealable disaster dressed as he was. He bit his tongue and fought against his arousal, clenching all his muscles as he tried to envisage dampening pictures in his mind; Potter humiliating him on the Quidditch field again, Snape teaching double potions naked, Weasley in a pink tutu….and there it was, that one! If he could just hold onto it…he shut his eyes and concentrated very hard on keeping a frilly pink-clad Ron Weasley there on the inside of his eyelids.

‘Draco,’ he heard Hermione’s voice, husky from her laughter and the image wavered, but he refused to open his eyes and look at her, for he knew that if he did he would be lost. ‘I am OK, really. It was just a silly girl thing….If you must know, I had this dream that I let Lavender and Parvati give me a make over for the Christmas Social and they wouldn’t let me watch them, and then when they turned my chair around and showed me, they had cut all my hair off, and I mean all of it! So you see, it was nothing bad really, just -’

He wasn’t strong enough to keep his resolve against these words; his eyes snapped open and he found his gaze ensnared by hers, eyes locked into each others, and the smile faded off her face as her throat became suddenly dry and the intimacy of their situation became apparent to her as well. Draco raked his gaze over her chestnut curls messed up from sleep and her panicked clutching earlier. He reached out one hand and picked up a solitary curl between his thumb and forefinger, and they both watched entranced as her hair wound itself like a twining vine around his finger as if it was enchanted to life, and then tightened until it was secure. Draco raised his eyes slowly back to hers and they were suddenly both breathless.

‘Don’t ever cut your hair, Granger,’ he growled, and the pitch of his voice caused tremors to run from the top of her scalp along the length of her spine and right to the very tips of her toes. She could feel her nipples hardening and a hot damp swelling begin between her legs, and suddenly she understood what words like fecund and yearning meant in all those gothic Muggle romance novels which her mother was so fond of reading. Her body felt like it didn’t belong to her any more, like it was getting ready for something she didn’t quite understand, but knew was inevitable. She wasn’t quite sure what was happening between them, but she knew it was dangerous.

Looking away from his eyes proved to be even more foolish. Draco Malfoy undressed was a truly spectacular sight. His hair was still wet from his shower, and wet it fell into soft curls all over his head; Dear Lord, Malfoy had curls - no wonder he was always so strict with the hair gel. Who would ever take seriously the Prince of Slytherin with a halo of blond curls? He had a dark green towel draped across his shoulders which was a perfect colour to highlight his silver eyes and golden hair. Her attention was captured by his forearms; she had dreamt about Draco’s arms many times since the Halloween Ball and seeing them again now, slightly stretched out as he held onto her hair left her breathless and shivery.

It didn’t seem to matter where she looked any more. Every part of him had apparently been designed specifically to raise her temperature into the danger zone. He was more compact than either Ron or Harry, but beautifully created. His naked chest like his arms, was lightly coated with golden hair slightly darker than that on his head, and her eyes helplessly followed its path downwards to where it thinned out over his navel and arrowed down into the grey waistband of his shorts. To her astonishment he had a tattoo, which spread out around his navel, of a sunburst; it was inked in russet and orange and the sight of it almost made her drool. It was so unexpected on someone like him, and she realized then that there was no other mark on him anywhere, not even the one that most of the school feared he had been wearing since his father was taken to Azkaban.

But, oh - beneath that tattoo there was nothing before a pair of green boxer shorts in some soft clingy material which devotedly outlined every curve and swell of that which it was meant to contain. Hermione could feel herself flushing, and she knew that Draco could see where she was looking, but she could not turn away. She traced the size and shape of him with her eyes, from the rounded mushroom shaped tip - he had obviously been circumcised as a baby - along the length of his cock and down to the softly rounded swell of his balls which were almost spilling out from the leg cuff, and right before her entranced gaze she watched the changes occur.

Draco was panting now. He defied even Professor Snape to remain in control under the searing heat of her eyes. The fantasy of Ron had evaporated into the boiling steam of his growing arousal….Ron who? He felt her every glance as if it were an actual caress and he was incapable of controlling or concealing his reaction to her. He wanted her to see what she did to him, to watch how helpless he was in the grip of this incomprehensible lust for her. He wanted to know if she felt it too. He wanted to throw her down on the bed and do unspeakable things to her body and hear her scream out his name as he did every single one of them. He wanted to lock her in a room with him and not come out for a month.

Hermione watched as his erection grew, she marked the damp spot which appeared on his shorts, evidence of his growing arousal as he began leaking in readiness for her. She stared mesmerized as his cock swelled until it outgrew the confines of his boxers and the tip of him pushed under the waistband and stood above the edge of his underwear weeping his arousal proudly for her to see. She traced the swollen sacs of his balls with her eyes, tightened up already in preparation for his release, and wished she dared put her hands where her eyes rested.

Of course, tension and arousal stretched to so painful a limit had to snap and it was Draco who broke first. Hermione was too inexperienced to know what was happening to her, but Draco ached for her, to be inside her and incinerate himself in her heat. He spoke only her name, on a hoarse moan, ‘Hermione,’ he gasped and her eyes flew up to meet his, drowning in the look she saw there; his pupils dilated so there was only a fine ring of silver outlining the black. She felt like she was going to spontaneously combust at that look.

He was not sure which of them moved first; maybe they moved together in perfect synchronicity, but the next second they were falling together back to her pillows, mouths clinging desperately together, hands clutching, bodies writhing, trying to get closer and closer until they became one being. Before her, Draco had never known that kissing could be like this; such a complete and total subjugation of oneself to another person, so deep that she seemed to be drawing his very soul out of his body and into hers. His erection thrust against her stomach, slipping beneath the hem of her monkey shirt and making her tummy sticky and damp from the copious leaking of his arousal. His left leg was thrust between hers and she was whimpering in her throat as she rubbed her own swollen wet flesh against him through the fabric of her shorts.

He drew away from her mouth and she whimpered in distress, which changed to moans of approval as he kissed her face and throat, trailing caresses down her chest until he found her breasts, and without a single thought, ripped the tank top down the centre so he could have better access to her skin. She gasped out a protest, but was secretly thrilled by the primitive gesture, and then all thoughts deserted her as his hot mouth closed on one of her nipples, suckling it and rolling it between his teeth until she was almost in tears from the sensations he created.

He looked up at her from his position, through swirls of hair which had now dried into waves over his forehead. ‘I want to do this to you all over,’ he hissed into her skin. ‘I want to kiss you and taste you in every curve and fold of your body. I want to take hours just learning the silk of your skin and the scent of your arousal….’ he stopped briefly in his verbal seduction to lick and caress her other nipple, and Hermione sobbed.

“Yeessss, Oh, please, Draco, I need…I need…I -’ she stopped unable to form thoughts. She didn’t know what she needed, only that she did. Who would ever have expected it, that Draco Malfoy would love words as much as she did, would know the power of them over another being, would know the exact right words to drive her wild? She caught his head in her hands and dragged him back up to her mouth. She couldn’t survive another minute if he wasn’t kissing her again. She was the aggressor now, her tongue driving into his mouth, finding his own and playing with it until he took over.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his hand grazed down her body to the waistband of her shorts and then lower, inside, until he was sliding them over her hips and away to be forgotten at the end of the bed. He caressed the smooth skin of her behind, learning the curve of her bottom, the silky crease where her leg joined her hips, moving ever closer to the burning centre of her body. She was still rubbing herself against his thigh and without the fabric of her shorts between their naked flesh, he could feel how swollen and wet she was and it made his head spin. She found the friction of the fine hairs on his legs almost unbearable where she was so unbelievably sensitive. His fingers finally found their way between her legs and his thigh and at the first touch of his thumb against her swollen button she jerked and moaned so wildly that he wondered if she had come just from that contact.


She twisted on the bed trying to find an angle which would give her greater contact with his fingers, and knowing exactly what she needed, he slid his middle finger along her slick wet folds, and up into her body while his thumb continued to pass over her swollen clit. She bounced as if she had been electrocuted, and she was truly sobbing now, so close to something that she had never experienced before, and Draco had a terrible thought. She was so responsive he feared he might cum in his shorts, but she also seemed so shocked by what he was doing that he suddenly had to ask before he lost control entirely and blew the whole thing.

‘Granger,’ he got out between clenched teeth, still unable to stop his fingers and hips from thrusting against her. ‘Hermione, have you ever done this before?’ He was sure she had never slept with the Weasel, but after all she was a Muggle-born, who spent all her holidays away from the wizarding world and exposed to all those Muggle boys who might not have been anywhere near so blind as he had been for the past few years. His studies this year had led him to believe that sex in the Muggle world was just as accessible if not more so, than it was here in the confines of the school walls.

She gazed at him with huge dazed eyes, not really understanding what he was asking, silently urging him to continue. He gritted his teeth and tried to hang on to his sanity which was dangling by a thread and not helped at all by the need in her eyes, or the movement of her hips. ‘Mina, are you a virgin?’ he managed with his last grip on reality, and he nearly died on the spot as he read the answer in her face. He sank onto the bed his face buried in her neck, panting hard and fighting for control. ‘Don’t move,’ he hissed. ‘Just - just give me a minute.’

‘No - don’t stop,’ Hermione managed to get out. ‘Please, you can’t stop, not now. I need - something…..’ her voice trailed off miserably, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

‘We aren’t stopping,’ he said firmly and saw the relief wash over her face. ‘Just going about it differently.’ He rolled onto his back pulling her into his side, and they both looked downwards to where his throbbing erection thrust out from his shorts. ‘Help me off with them,’ he whispered and her hands reached down and pushed the fabric out of the way, as he raised his hips to help her. Now there was nothing restraining his cock and it rose angrily into the cool night air. Draco didn’t think he had ever been this hard in his life before. He was swollen and red and aching to be touched, but he knew if he took Hermione like this he would likely rip her apart and he was so close to cumming right now it would be all over before for him before he even broke through her virginity. Two months of nocturnal fantasies had left him so desperate and ready for the reality of this that he knew he was hovering on the verge of screwing the whole thing up.

Hermione deserved her first time to be something special and he couldn’t do that right now, but he was the one who was supposed to be experienced and he would have to fix it. ‘Give me your hand, I don’t want to hurt you - I’m too close - ’ he whispered, and she slid her right hand into his own and let him wrap it around the length of his erection. He moaned as he felt her small fingers grip him and shook from his head to his toes with the effort of holding off his monstrous orgasm. He guided her hand a couple of times in the rhythm until she was moving freely herself, and then watched her as she brought him closer and closer to the brink of climax. It took mere seconds until he realized he wasn’t going to last, and he groaned out to her. ‘ Oh, God - Mina, I’m coming - I’m coming now. I can’t hold it any more! Don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh, oh, oh Fuuuck!’, and with that his cock erupted with all the force of a volcano. He felt the orgasm start in the depths of his balls and travel like wildfire along the length of his engorged penis until it burst forth all over their joined hands, all over her stomach and his, and sprayed upwards to coat the hardened tips of her nipples with the white cream, and still he came until he couldn’t feel his legs and his arms.

When he finally returned to his senses, he saw she was propped up on her elbow watching him with a slight frown and chewing on her bottom lip. He reached out a hand which felt as heavy as lead and caressed her cheek, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said breathlessly.

‘Um, why did -’ she began obviously embarrassed, not by his orgasm, but by what she was thinking. ‘Um - you said…that… um - we wouldn’t stop, but now you’ve - ah, alone -and we didn’t - I …ah - you know… and I still - ’ she trailed off and Draco was enchanted to realise that he understood every single delightful babble, and that she actually wasn’t horrified by what he had done, and still wanted him.

He pulled her on top of him and planted kisses all over her face until he could feel her whimpering and rubbing against his thigh again. ‘Mina,’ he whispered. ‘I was too close to make it good for you. I’d have gotten a inch inside and lost it, I’d have hurt you and disappointed you and put you off. But now we’ve….. taken the edge off, I’m going to spend the whole night showing you exactly how much we are not stopping. Starting right now.’

‘But, can you? I mean - so soon? I thought guys couldn’t - do it again immediately -’
Hermione began, still hugely embarrassed but determined. Draco took her hand in his again, and moved it back down to where he was still hard and ready for her, taking great delight in the aroused gasp which escaped her lips and the way her eyes flew downwards with little or no embarrassment this time.

‘Maybe I couldn’t, not for just anyone,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘But you do things to me Granger, that I never knew it was possible to feel.’ He rolled her over onto her back and began licking her breasts and Hermione realized hazily that he was cleaning up the evidence of his previous orgasm with his tongue, and although she could have been incredibly grossed out by his actions, instead she found it unbelievably erotic, and she grabbed his hair pulling his mouth back up to hers so that she could taste him, too.

Draco gasped and pulled away briefly, searching her eyes for evidence that she knew what she had just done, and his perfect little Gryffindor just licked her lips and smiled at him. He was already incredibly hard again, and wondered briefly if he should make her give him another hand job before he took her the first time, but her squirming body rubbing against his leg convinced him that she wouldn’t accept any more delays, and Merlin knows, in his whole life he had never wanted anything more than to be inside her right now, right this very minute.

He slipped his hand back between her thighs, moaning as his fingers found the profound wetness leaking from her body onto his leg as she frantically rubbed herself against him in an effort to increase the friction against her swollen clit. He moved himself away from her accompanied by whimpered protests, and spread her out across the bed so that he had access to every part of her arousal. He dipped one finger inside her body, curving it upwards to find her sensitive spots, then joined it with another, all the time keeping up the slow motion of his thumb barely glancing over her nub; she was writhing on the covers now, her whimpers music to his ears. He wanted her so close to orgasm when he entered her that the mere sensation of his cock passing over her clit would send her over the edge, so much so that she would barely even feel the barrier breaking.

She was sobbing again now, actual tears leaking from her eyes and his name sometimes recognizable in the jumble of whimpered words she was gasping out to encourage him to do more, faster, now. Trouble being, his own arousal was once more so overwhelming he wasn’t even sure he was capable of judging when she got to that point and taking advantage of it.

Suddenly she let out a wail, ‘Ahhhhhhhhhh…’ and her body curled up from the mattress. Draco, letting instinct take over, simply rolled over and thrust in. No finesse, no gentle preparation for his entrance, just his body sinking into hers as if it had been created solely for this one moment; and in spite of his carelessness, in the end it appeared that his tactic had worked. He barely felt a tug as he broke through her virginity, and he was fairly sure she didn’t even notice for she was sobbing his name and other indecipherable words so loudly whilst her inner muscles pulsed around his cock and nearly brought on his second climax without any movement on his behalf at all.

I can do this, I can do this, he kept repeating over and over, as he held himself motionless within her, waiting for the waves of her release to slow down, but he nearly bit through his lip with the effort of stopping himself from moving. He had never in his whole life experienced anything as beautiful as Hermione Granger coming apart in his arms.

Finally the aftershocks left her body and she stopped shaking and opened her eyes to look at the boy hovering over her. Her face was red and her hair was clinging damply to her sweaty forehead, but her eyes were dark with satisfaction and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He decided she was just about the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life. He touched his forehead to hers and allowed himself another long deep exploration of her mouth, before beginning to move slowly inside her. She gasped as he thrust and her eyes snapped up to his in question.

‘Did you think that was it?’ he whispered. ‘I’ve only just started….’ He watched as her nostrils flared and her eyes dilated again, then began a slow, thorough motion deep inside her body. She began whimpering almost immediately and her legs automatically curled around his hips encouraging him deeper into her warmth. She was incredible, every move she made was as if she had been created especially for him. Draco was so close again that he couldn’t see any way to hold off this time, and though he didn’t expect that she would be able to come again so soon, he moved his fingers down so that he could caress her insanely sensitive clit and try for a second time.

But his glorious Lioness continued to surprise him; just as he inched his fingers towards her folds his cock nudged against her g spot inside and with a clenching moan that tightened every single internal muscle around his desperate erection, she came again, pushing him so far over the edge that he was in free fall space. He froze, the force of his release so great that every muscle in his body locked; he was incapable of any movement, any sound. All that existed was her body milking him of his seed as his cock erupted into her so long and mind numbingly that he thought his head might explode, and he finally collapsed against her shoulder drained of all but euphoria.

When his brain cells eventually began to reconstruct themselves post orgasm, it finally dawned on him that this was actually real and not just another one of his erotic dreams - it had actually happened; that he really and truly had Hermione Granger in his arms - that he was even now still cradled deep within her body, and it was a thousand - a million times better than any fantasy he had created from a few overheard comments in the Potions corridor.

He burrowed his face into the curve of her neck softly worshiping the skin beneath her ear, whilst she clutched desperately on to him as if she was afraid he would disappear. If he hadn’t been so close he would have missed hearing her chanting under her breath like a prayer, ‘Oh God, Oh God, Draco -’

He couldn’t have put it better himself.

************************

So there it is. I thought I might spring it upon you all with no warning; I hope it comes up to expectations.
As for Hermione’s hair - well, I couldn’t really let the girls do that to her, now could I? And in regards to Draco’s little solo act…Well, what can I say - he’s a teenage boy full of rampant hormones and I think he more than made up for it later (or will do…)!! Besides, I have a fondness for that infamous hair gel scene in Something about Mary which I must confess influenced Draco’s actions here.

Kylara, I hope you think that he managed to perform sufficiently - slightly better than “Get in, get off, get out,” !!