Mudblood Fever and Lingerie

Mixed Emotions

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, and whispered the counters to her silencing spells. She didn’t want Lavender or Parvati to hear her crying. It would be too hard to explain why. Neither were muggleborn, and she doubted they would understand how deeply Malfoy’s words had cut her. She’d wanted to hit him. Instead, she was crying, alone in bed. Again.

She rolled over, remembering the feeling of her fist hitting his face in third year. It brought a small smile to her lips, and she dozed in and out of sleep, imagining hitting him again, watching him go sprawling across the floor. She thought of Ron. He didn’t seem to mind that she was muggle-born. He’d wanted her well enough before Lavender had sunk her claws into him. Maybe she was just feeling pent-up tension, and needed a release. Ron had been good for that at least.

“Come here, ‘Mione.” He whispered, lying next to her quietly. Lavender was just in the next bed, and she had no idea. Ron kissed her, softly, making her whole body feel inflamed.

“I need this. I need you,” he whispered, his hands running along her body. “No one else will ever be good enough.”

“Oh, Draco…” The name slipped out of her mouth, and she looked up, horrified, at Ron’s face.

“Malfoy?” He asked, stunned, his face dumb, twisting into rage. “Malfoy!?”

“No, I-” She tried to calm him, knowing how he had to feel, unsure where the name came from.

“You want Malfoy?”

“Of course she does, Weasel,” the cold drawl wrapped its arm around her shoulders. She looked up into silver eyes. “No one but me will ever be good enough.”

“No…” She felt like she was spinning, the two silver orbs tangling her mind.

“No one else deserves you. We make a perfectly balanced pair.” He sounded too reasonable as the orbs got bigger. She felt a searing heat on her lips, and the orbs vanished, leaving the feeling of hands on her hips, long fingers gripping her perfectly, lifting her onto her bed. The heat was flooding through her, making her need this. Need him.

“Draco…” The name fell from her lips as they met his, as he pushed her robes out of the way, reaching bare skin, and her heated core.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, his blond hair framing his face, his smug smirk in place as he looked down at her bare body. Her face flushed, and she looked away.

“You’ll always be the most beautiful.” Ron whispered, kissing her neck.

She bolted upright, panting, and looked at her curtains. She was alone within them, no blond sneer, and no amber lies. She could feel her heart racing, and felt disgust ripple through her. She couldn’t believe she’d dreamt of Ron saying such things, or Malfoy. Neither was realistic, and neither would happen. Or happen again, in Ron’s case.

“Beautiful…” She muttered to herself, as though cursing it, laying back on her bed. There was no sunlight coming in, so it had to still be early morning. She tried to sleep, but couldn’t seem to force her brain off. She kept thinking of her dream. Neither scenario had been realistic, but they’d both been arousing. And she could feel the result keeping her awake. She tentatively slid a hand across her thigh, lifting her nightgown, and touching the pair of brand-new knickers. They slid off easily, and she resumed rubbing herself, closing her eyes, and imagining.

“‘Mione.” The panting voice was Ron’s his hands roaming over her body, familiar with the shape, the feel. He always got right to the action, sliding in as quickly as possible, making her wiggle, and adjust to the invasion.

“Aww, yeah…” He moaned, touching one of her breasts as he moved too quickly to the main event, always hastier than she’d like.

“Feel like testing it, Granger?” The voice was warm, and teasing, fingers sliding across her stomach, pale against her tan skin. Blond hair tickled her thighs as his head dipped between her legs, taking her into his mouth, and forgetting himself.

“Let me…” She panted when he came back up, and sank to her knees, undoing his jeans, and pulling his erection out. It was warm in her mouth, fingers brushing through her hair gently, encouraging words whispered above her.

“Come here.” He sounded demanding as he pulled her up, pressing his lips to hers, unable to resist any longer. His face was above hers, pristine, his hair combed back as he brought her to ecstasy.

She opened her eyes, breathing heavily, trembling as she cleaned herself up, and donned her knickers, pretending she hadn’t just gotten off thinking of that whiny prat. Was he still whiny? She couldn’t recall any proper whining from him this year, only a bit of complaint here and there. Hermione thought of Ron, and remembered what Malfoy had said in the owlery. She fell asleep, grinning, thinking of how accurately he’d described how she sometimes felt about her two best friends.