Claiming Hermione

There was something here. Something tentative and delicate that fluttered in Draco’s throat. Something so unsure of itself that if he breathed too hard it might flicker out of existence. But maybe, if he could just be careful, if he could just be gentle enough…

But it was impossible. It had always been impossible. Draco knew this. He’d known it all along.

And yet, Hermione Granger had walked with him from the dungeons to the Great Hall. Next to him. From his room.

He couldn’t stop grinning.

Even at the Head Table, in front of all the students, McGonagall and Snape, and the all-knowing eyes of Dumbledore, Draco fought hard to keep the smile off his face. He was in a constant state of expectation. Like any second now, he was going to see the snitch right in front of him, flashing white in the sun.

Any second now he was going to win.

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

Any second now, Hermione was going to lose it.

She ground her teeth hard to keep from laughing and shot Draco a warning look. His lips twitched and his fingers skittered at the back of her knee again. She narrowed her eyes at him.

With one long arm casually hanging at his side, Draco had pulled her robe up to her bare thigh under the table and was lightly stroking the soft, spongy area in the fold of her knee. It was wreaking havoc on her nerves.

If her face wasn’t bright red from the simple fact that she was sitting in the Great Hall with nothing but her knickers on under her robe, then her posture – spine-straight and rigid from Draco’s teasing – was surely going to give her away. And still, despite the fact that she’d seen him naked – and had sex with him (twice!) – she still felt very flustered in his presence.

She wiggled her knee away from his fingers and watched him clearly struggling to hide his amusement. It was hard not smile in response. There was a lightness in Draco’s face that Hermione had never seen before. A quickness or a glittering in his eyes, or a maybe a brightness to his skin. It was mischievous and delightful, and a little overwhelming, and it made her heart feel larger in her chest.

His fingers skipped across the delicate bend of her knee again and started to move a little higher under her thigh. Lightness or no, Hermione clenched her jaw tightly against the sensations and decided that two could play this game. Quickly, and with a strength that surprised him, Hermione bent her leg back and squeezed, effectively trapping Draco’s hand.

A smug smile threatened to break over her face at Draco’s startled expression as he tugged, trying to remove his hand.

And a moment later, as if he was in on her little scheme, Dumbledore turned to Draco.
“Well, Mr. Malfoy, have you had any luck locating our misbehaving ghost?” Hermione thought she might burst in triumph.

Draco froze with his hand still trapped under the table and his cheeks reddening quickly. “No… No, Sir. I…” he stammered while he searched for an excuse. “I haven’t seen him yet.” Technically, it was the truth. He glared at his toast with a disgruntled frown.

Hermione released his hand and he brought it up to the table where it safely circled his goblet.

“Witch!” he grumbled just loud enough for only her to hear.

She grinned openly and speared a chunk of potato.

She was going to be a little sad when they went back to sitting across the hall from each other like strangers.

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

“I assume you know about Draco’s request to join The Order,” the headmaster sat at his desk and waited for Hermione’s response.

After breakfast he had stopped her in a corridor on the fifth floor. The same corridor, in fact, where she had performed embarrassing and lewd acts under Draco’s command just a few days earlier. Hermione had shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, desperately trying push away the memory of her skirt flipped up and Draco’s hand pressed hard over her mouth while she…

She wanted to be anywhere but there, and she sighed in relief when they left the corridor to make their way to his office.

Now he was peering at her calmly over his spectacles.

Hermione straightened her back and nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

“And you may also know that he has agreed to submit to questioning under Veritaserum.”

She nodded again.

“And that we’ll be going to Headquarters.”

Hermione stared for a second. “Headquarters?”

“Yes. Harry is there now, along with the Weasleys, and a few other Order members.”

Immediately her mind tried to picture Draco – Draco Malfoy – at Grimmauld Place surrounded by Weasleys. Ron’s face came to the forefront of her mind, pinched and red with anger the way it had been at the Yule Ball. She frowned.

Seemingly following her train of thought, the Headmaster continued. “I was wondering if you were free to join us.”

In the back of her mind, Hermione smiled. It wasn’t really a question. Ever since Harry had taken charge of his destiny and demanded to be privy to everything concerning him, the war, and Voldemort, Dumbledore was more forthcoming with his intentions. And that included with her.

But to face her friends, outside of school, knowing what she knew, what she had done… with Draco… She shoved her hands under her thighs.

“Sir, Harry mentioned that Ron was rather upset about it. Isn’t there, I mean, are you sure going to Grimmauld Place is a good idea?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Weasley is going to need some guidance to see things…” he paused and leveled his gaze directly at her, “for what they are.”

Scratch that. Dumbledore was just as cryptic as ever.

“And you think that I can help with that.”

“Sometimes, we need our friends to show us the way. It seems that you and Mr. Malfoy have overcome your obstacles and developed a comfortable relationship.”

Hermione’s stomach swooped.

Relationship.

Relationship.

The word floated around in her brain, distracting her like a lazy bee slowly buzzing about the room. She shifted in her chair nervously. She hoped Professor Dumbledore wasn’t aware of the nature of their “relationship”. And with the constant state of anticipation she had been in, she would hardly call it “comfortable”. Before she could make any reply, though, Dumbledore interrupted.

“I think Draco could use an ally tomorrow.”

“Of course, Sir.”

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

At a small wooden table surrounded by obscure potions books, Hermione propped up her elbow and let her chin fall into her palm. She sighed.

Warm, late afternoon light streamed through the tall library windows and caught in the dusty library air. Hermione stared into it, glassy-eyed and unfocused.

She slept with Draco.

A beam of speckled light cut across her desk and Hermione turned her palm up in it as if she could catch the suspended particles in her hand. She stared at the little white particles swirling slowly over her hand and never settling.

Her eyes drifted down to the open book in front of her and she squinted at an ancient drawing of a rare brown algae found in the shallows of the Black Sea. It was possible that in the right combination and quantity, the addition of this plant to her potion would have both calming and persuasive effects.

She glanced at the small map on the opposite page of a seaport in Odessa in the Southern pocket of the Ukraine. It wasn’t terribly far from the dragon compound where Charlie Weasley worked. She flicked her wand at the map and then at her parchment, where a duplicate appeared. She wrote “Charlie” underneath the map, and set her quill down again to look back into the rays of dusty light.

For almost a full day she had been trying to make progress on her experimental potion, only to find herself staring off into space once again. A soft, steady hum had moved into Hermione’s thoughts, creating a kind of quietness in her mind. All her lists and notes and things to remember were suddenly, inexplicably, hushed into silence.

She slept with Draco Malfoy. Slept with him.

It was an odd sort of knowledge – to know what that was like. To know the regular soft sound of his breathing, and that his skin was hot, and that his perfect hair was messy when he woke up. She felt like she had been told a closely guarded secret. Draco had shared something personal and private with her. She wondered, then, if that meant that Draco trusted her? Or, maybe, to Draco, it wasn’t a private thing at all. Maybe he had slept with all six of the girls he had slept with. Er, seven.

Hermione frowned.

The chiming of the dinner bell pulled her out of her thoughts and a ball of erratic energy bloomed in the pit of her stomach and spread outward.

She was going to see him again.

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

The library might not have given Hermione much respite from the onslaught of Draco, but meal times were worse. Torturous affairs where she felt like she was being hit from every angle. Anticipation and anxiety, excitement, fear, desire and longing. She was under siege.

Sitting next to Draco now, while he answered a brave first year’s Quidditch questions and pressed the length of his strong, warm thigh into hers, made Hermione feel upside down and backwards. She wanted to eat slowly and prolong the time next to him, and wanted to escape before she spilled her tea on herself. Or worse, on him.

A minute after the first person finished eating, she stood and left as calmly as she could manage. Outside the large oak doors, Hermione took a steadying breath. Three steps towards her room, she stopped and turned around.

Should she wait for him?

Or would he think she was easy?

She bit her lip and turned back towards Gryffindor Tower.

If she left, would he think she was scared? Alright, she was a bit scared. But she wouldn’t have Draco thinking so.

She turned around again. A sharp line creased her forehead and she looked down at the stone floor.

But if she went to him two nights in a row would he expect her to show up every night?

She frowned. She didn’t know exactly what it was that they were doing, and God she wanted to do it again, but there was no way she was going to let it take over her life. And then a terrifying thought:

What if someone else came out first?

Turning swiftly, Hermione walked straight to her room before she could change her mind. She completely forgot to check the Great Hall that night for any sign of Peeves.

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

Draco hovered high in the air over the far end of the Black Lake, sitting motionless on his broom as his cloak swirled gently around his legs. It was the last night of the year. In the distance little spots of orange light flickered to life. The castle looked like it was trying to lose itself in the grey-blue monochrome landscape. He let his eyes drift down to a line of deep purple haze hugging the snowy ground.

He felt disconnected. Small. Like a gust of wind could swoosh in and pick him off the face of the earth, and no one would know. Or care. His absence would hardly be felt.

He had no parents to feel the loss, no true friends to break bonds with, and an empty manor that was probably relieved with his absence. Even the Order probably felt he was no more important than an annoying pebble in their shoe, despite Potter and Dumbledore’s suggestions to the contrary.

And then there was Hermione Granger. And he was in love with her, and he couldn’t tell her because if she told him she didn’t feel the same, he might tumble out into the atmosphere.

A gust of wind tried to push him out of its way and Draco braced himself against it. With his teeth chattering and his bones frozen, he lifted his eyes to the disappearing horizon.

For the last three hours he had cut scars across the grey sky, flat on his broom, racing his thoughts at blinding speeds. His body screamed through the air, battling gravity and wind and air pressure and cold and the infinite number of things that could go wrong tomorrow.

But it was no good. It was a fight he couldn’t win.

There were a hundred ways they could humiliate him, a hundred secrets he didn’t want to share, one of which had been frustratingly absent the last two days.

As the Order meeting drew closer, he was even more anxious to be near her. To extract every second he had left with her while he still had time. Just for a little while longer to be wrapped up in her heat, her need, and her tenderness. Because even if she didn’t love him, she was at least kind.

And the longer he went without touching her, the more the bubble of happiness that had filled him waned, only to swell again each time she climbed onto the bench next to him in the Great Hall with her cheeks pink and a small, nervous smile just for him.

But then she would be gone again, and his whole body ached with unanswered hunger.

He shifted his weight on his broom to ease the stiffness in his joints and tried again to call up that feeling of hope, to recreate the swelling in his chest, but it eluded him.

An image floated into his mind. Hermione Granger, her head thrown back with laughter as her body curled under his tickling fingers. He smiled to himself and wondered with a dark sort of humor, how he had gone from not being able to stand the Gryffindor goody-goody to depending on her presence for his very happiness.

And then he thought again of the Order and what they might ask him about her, about his past behavior toward her, and, more frightening, about his current feelings about her, and his smile faded.

They had a complicated history. His history with the whole trio was complicated. Granger, Potter, the Weasel. Complicated and marked with his own ugliness and inadequacy.

Letting his eyes travel slowly from one end of the choppy lake to the other, Draco cataloged seven years of hate.

His stung pride when Potter rejected his friendship. Every underhanded scheme to get the the three of them in trouble. Every cold, disappointed glare from his father when he failed to tarnish their shining reputation. And every time afterward that he vowed again to bring them down. And every ill-bred, jealous, bitter “mudblood.”

And even though things were different now, everything he had imagined the Order asking, all his answers, were twisted into something awful. Something damning.

As he slashed through the sky, he could see them in his mind, towering over him, eager to prove that he was no better than his name, eager to nod sanctimoniously at each other and say, “you see, we knew he was a bad seed.” By the time he had exhausted himself, he was almost sure they were right.

For a long time, Draco just hung in the air, watching the weak sun give up, and the grey sky slip into a darker grey.

When the castle was just a shadow, and his bones ached from the cold, he slowly began to make his way back.

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

By the time Draco got there, the balcony of the Astronomy Tower was alive with excitement. Dumbledore’s New Year’s Eve fireworks displays were legendary and the copious amounts of butterbeer and champagne for everyone of age certainly added to the celebratory mood. After spending every holiday at Hogwarts, Draco had seen it before.

He stood at the back of the small gathering of students and staff, grateful that they were all turned out to the snowy, color-washed grounds with their faces angled up in awe. A warming charm made the temperature comfortable and the air smelled slightly of sulfur or maybe electricity.

Left to right, he scanned the crowd. Snape had come. And McGonagall. And the first and second years had pressed themselves eagerly against the stone railing. A crease briefly formed between his brows and he scanned again from the beginning. And again.

She wasn’t there.

An immense hollow feeling engulfed him, a black hole opening in his chest, and Draco blinked up at the sky.

Surely the Gryffindor Princess wouldn’t shun Dumbledore’s little party. She must have left early. Or maybe she hadn’t come at all. Either way, she was undeniably absent. He clenched his jaw and tried to not let disappointment swallow him.

An irrational urge to search again gripped him, but instead Draco pushed her out of his mind and fixed his gaze to the sky. Shimmering gold light pulsed above the Black Lake in a dense sphere, sending hundreds of rays arcing into the night sky. Raining down to be reflected in the glittering surface of the lake.

Small pops and swirling sounds filled the air while a shower of colored light twisted in the sky like lovers in a sensual dance. For over an hour Draco kept his eyes on the beautiful display feeling like the world was mocking him.

There was no going back. His betrayal to his lineage was irrefutable now. A solid thing. Set in stone. Somehow, he was going to see to it that the Malfoy name’s association with darkness would end with him.

Unfortunately, if the Order didn’t want him, he wasn’t really sure what he was going to do. Contrary to his Slytherin tendency for scheming, this time Draco didn’t have a back up plan. He had never really believed that he could be anything other than his father’s son.

His father’s son. The last living Malfoy. A once great and noble family. He was king of a mountain that needed to be razed to the ground.

Draco let out a long sigh. He felt tired and worn down and he wondered how much longer he needed to stay. Another ten minutes perhaps. He stared at a large yellow ball of light high in the air, and let his eyes go fuzzy and unfocused as it changed colors and expanded slowly above him.

Gold.

Orange.

Red.

Magenta.

Purple…

She was there.

She was there.

He could feel her. A soft column of energy sparkling just behind him. Just to the left. And he could smell her. That strange, subtle mix of amber and honey and oranges and jasmine folding slowly around him. Circling and filling him up. Squeezing his heart so that it contracted tightly like one of Dumbledore’s fireworks right before it exploded.

He couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Just in case it wasn’t real. Draco stood there, perfectly still, taking slow, measured breaths, while the back of his body tingled with his awareness of her and the crescendo sounds of the fireworks hit his ears like explosions in a distant battle.

Time seemed to slow down, and just when Draco was convinced he had made it up, she stepped up next to him.

Yes. There she was. A dark orchid-purple ribbon lost in the honey curls and a black dress with her knees showing and a little bow at each bare shoulder.

She had come to him. Again.

And there was the shy smile, hampered this time by her lower lip being pulled between her teeth. And her bright, and brief, self-conscious glance. Draco groaned internally. God, her nervousness was like a lust potion.

She focused on the color-lit sky and Draco watched her shift her weight under his gaze and try to pretend that she wasn’t affected. She fidgeted with a seam on her dress for a moment and then she seemed to make up her mind about something and she decidedly dropped it and lifted her chin.

He would have smirked, but instead his memory was suddenly skipping back in time, to the defiant tilt of her chin that first night in his room, and to a late night in the HCR just after Blaise’s attack, just after he’d found that note proclaiming them friends, just after she’d asked him to be her first. And then further, to that Halloween night after the masque, and her confession about what she wanted. And then he was remembering that bright corridor and her head tilted back in submission.

Draco’s stomach clenched with arousal.

Hermione Granger hadn’t just wanted to give him her virginity. She wanted to give him control. And no one. NO ONE. Had ever wanted to give him that before. That it would be her to trust him so implicitly took his breath away and left him blinking again at the night sky.

With a sideways glance, Draco looked down at her again. Hermione’s attention was fixed firmly on the sky like a lesson she had to commit to memory. Like tomorrow morning Dumbledore would be testing her on the subject of fireworks. She looked like everything the Head Girl should be. Proper. Tidy. Unerringly good. Everything in place with the exception of her wild hair. But Draco noticed a small muscle pulsing at her jaw – a barely visible sign that maybe she’d like to be free of her responsibilities for a little while.

Draco turned his gaze back to the red and pink sparkling lights and pushed away the strange, protective instinct that was coursing through him.

As the dazzling display continued overhead, they stayed like that. Two Head Students, standing at the back of the gathering, just a little too close, with their faces lit up under the flowering lights.

The excited hum of the gathering grew louder as the final minutes of the year approached and a hundred or more little globes of light spun in the sky, pulling their rays in, making them wrap around like thousands of squiggly Saturn’s rings, tangled around each other and struggling to not fly off into space.

The sky was almost too bright to look at. Feeding themselves on their own light, the spinning spheres grew and grew. Gathering in towards each other over the Black Lake and setting it on fire.

Electricity sparked hotly through the air until the tension was a palpable thing, rising, rising, building and growing.

At his side, Draco could feel tiny pricks of energy popping between her bare arm and his and he wondered if she felt it too. He focused on the huge, blistering cloud of color, pulling inward and throbbing like it was about to erupt.

And then. Softly. Quietly. Her small hand tipped into his.

Oh.

Draco’s eyes slid closed.

Suddenly, every ray of light, every ounce of energy, was being pulled into him, coalescing in the center of his chest, tightening just behind his ribs, and gathering in a single point of blinding light.

And then she squeezed his hand gently and the point of light burst open.

Light bloomed behind his eyelids. Exploded over his upturned face, washing it in warmth and color. And Draco felt like he was exploding with it. Unfolding and expanding, it spilled out of his chest and down his legs through his feet, into the ground.

In an instant, Draco was connected to everything. To Hermione, to the stone balcony of the Astronomy Tower, to Dumbledore and Snape and McGonagall and the bright faces of the students. Like bright shining cords had burst from his ribs in every direction, tying themselves to everything in their path, and spreading out further to attach to the next thing. He was attached to everything.

Intrinsically linked. Written into its history. Just as it was written into his.

As if from far away, he heard her gasp, and finally, Draco opened his eyes to the shower of golden light raining down.

Ten.

The sky became a sheet of turquoise sparks.

Nine.

He wanted to kiss her.

Eight.

Now.

Seven.

The Black Lake glowed gold and orange like it was on fire.

Six.

He had to get her out of here.

Five.

The urgency throbbed in his chest.

Four.

The sky lit up magenta. Purple. Then magenta again.

Three.

Two.

Fuck.

One.

Millions of little meteors filled every inch of the night sky, falling down in an slow, quiet shower over them. It was breathtaking. Draco turned to see Hermione’s small mouth open in awe and the soft white light shifting over her cheeks and nose.

Feeling his gaze on her, Hermione looked up at him, her eyes still wide and innocent. A moment later, Draco was dragging her behind him, through the Astronomy classroom, out the door and hurrying down the long winding staircase.

On the third floor, next to the door of the Trophy Room, Draco couldn’t wait another second and hauled Hermione to him. Pushed her into the wall with his body and dove to her mouth. His long fingers lost with the orchid ribbon in her hair, holding her head in place as his tongue searched and searched her mouth for satisfaction.

Draco pushed his thigh between her legs and the heat from her there spread over him. She ground herself against him.

Oh god. This wasn’t enough. This was never going to be enough.

And then they were flying down the hallway again, down steps, and another hallway and more steps, and past the Great Hall. Draco could feel his arm stretched out behind him, and her hand clutching his like a towline.

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

Hermione stumbled into the darkness of Draco’s room and gasped when the fireplace lit up and he was on her again. Pushing her into the wall where the cool stone shocked the backs of her bare arms.

That nameless taste – that taste that was Draco – was in her mouth again, tightening the coil of desperation and need. Her hands scrambled over his torso, gripping at his shoulders and tugging his shirt from his belt.

Draco growled into her mouth. He was pushing so hard into her. There was an intense knot somewhere deep in her gut and at her core, and she writhed in the small space he allowed her to relieve the ache.

The little black dress bunched up around her legs and the soft flannel of Draco’s trousers rubbed her inner thighs as she ground her pussy hard against his leg. The friction – the barrier – was maddening. She bit his lip in frustration.

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

He was going to fuck her right now.

Up against the wall.

Right here. Right now.

He was going take her, lose control in her, and just slam his cock into her hard and fast until they were both bruised and spent and falling onto the floor.

Hermione’s hands drew a fast, disjointed map over his body. Chest, back, arms, in his hair, over his ass, while her hips rolled frantically into his. And then her hands found their way under his shirt and swarmed over his stomach and his sides, marking a hot, unruly trail over his skin.

He was losing.

Losing to Hermione Granger again. Losing to her curls and her whimpers and her small frantic hands. And he had already lost so much to her.

This time he wanted to win.

Draco’s fingers found their way out of her hair and moved down to grip her upper arms. He meant to push away from her, but her mouth still held him there, his tongue wrapping around hers again and again. He couldn’t escape her mouth.

His grip tightened and a deep growl forced its way through his body as he wrenched himself off her and away from the wall, bringing her with him and spinning her out into the room so that the backs of her thighs collided with the bed.

The cool air swirled around them with the movement. And even when they stood motionless, like two immovable mountains, Draco could still feel it swimming over his face and heated neck.

She was breathing hard. In his peripheral vision he could see her chest heaving in the firelight. But it was her eyes that held him. Hard and dark, and focused sharply on him. Draco’s magic thrummed in his veins like a barely controlled energy.

Time stretched out between them while they stood there at the foot of the bed. Two opponents locked in a fierce battle. Each waiting for the other to strike.

And then the fire popped too loud and Draco reached out with one hand and grasped the strip of fabric at Hermione’s shoulder. He watched her eyes narrow slightly. She was daring him, and he felt the answering fire in his chest. Draco yanked the fabric down – hard – and bared one beautiful round breast and dark, rosy nipple.

Hermione’s breath hitched but she made no move to cover herself. Knowing that she would follow his next move closely, Draco held her gaze for a moment and then let his path slide down to her exposed breast and the tightly furled nipple, hardening further in the cool air.

“Take it off.”

Her eyes were wide.

“Now, Granger.”

She dropped her gaze and swallowed and slowly slipped the other strap off her shoulder. The dress dropped to the floor with a hush.

“Everything.”

Hermione tucked her thumbs into the little black knickers and tugged them down her lean legs and stepped out of them. Black. Knickers. Draco was momentarily sad to see them go. But his cock throbbed at the sight of the dark triangle of curls hiding what he was once again about to claim as his, and he quickly forgot about the knickers.

She shivered a little. A light sheen of sweat had broken out at her hairline. Draco looked at the satin orchid ribbon, slightly askew in her messy hair, and decided that he would take this final thing from her himself.

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

Hermione tried to fight the instinct to step back as Draco took a step towards her. There was a commanding tone in Draco’s voice and a feral look in his sparkling grey eyes. It was both terrifying and exciting, and it only fanned the desperate achy need that was still building in her pussy.

Hermione felt her own nakedness intensely. Especially in contrast to Draco, whose shirt was merely untucked and rumpled. She could feel her nipples contracting so tightly they ached, and the wetness that had already seeped out of her was cool in spots on her thighs, and hot and slick between her pussy lips. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

The feeling of nakedness increased when Draco’s palm slid along the side of her neck and pushed her hair over her shoulder, fully exposing her front. She had both the instinct to curl in on herself, and also to bare her neck further. She didn’t move.

But then he leaned in and sucked at the skin below her ear. An involuntary moan escaped her and her head tilted backwards. Where everything was fast and furious before, every touch and movement now felt deliberate and concentrated.

Draco’s other hand came up to her chest and lightly, much too lightly, his fingers ghosted over her pebbled nipple. Hermione arched her back to push into his hand and he chuckled darkly against her neck.

His hand trailed down her belly to her curls where her legs were pressed tightly together. He tapped her mound.

“Open up,” he ordered.

Hermione willed her legs to move. It didn’t make sense because she was desperate for him to touch her there, but she just couldn’t do it. He slapped at her lightly and repeated the order more firmly. When she still didn’t move, his hand came down harder. She groaned at the pressure and finally, finally her legs opened a little.

Hermione closed her eyes and clenched her fists, ashamed of how close she was to begging him to put his fingers in her pussy. She almost whined when he only ran a long finger lightly over her wet lips and then brought it up to his mouth. She watched him suck on his own finger and tried not to fidget in his grasp. God. That was so unfair!

And then a new sensation caught her attention. Satin being pulled through her hair and over her shoulder.

She sucked in a deep breath. And then held it when Draco’s hand suddenly fisted the curls at the base of her neck and tugged backwards. His breath was hot and menacing in her ear.

“I’m going to open you up. And fuck you. Hard.”

Hermione’s stomach swooped violently and Draco pushed her back roughly so that the bed caught her behind the knees and she was thrown onto her back.

She stared hard at Draco, standing over her like he was planning her destruction. A red, hot blush broke out over her face and neck.

Draco brought his fingers to the buttons at his collar. He was still holding the orchid ribbon in one hand as he made his way down the row of buttons. It was distracting. And confusing. And Hermione tried to ignore them as Draco’s pale creamy skin was exposed and washed in the warmth of the firelight.

But, with each button that was undone, with each new section of smooth skin, realization began to dawn on Hermione and her eyes grew wide. When the shirt finally hit the floor and Draco stood over her in only his black trousers, still clutching the damned ribbon, Hermione’s heart began to pound furiously in her chest.

Draco pulled the ribbon slowly through his hands and smirked at her. If there was any doubt as to his intentions, it vanished when he pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved it at the ribbon creating four much longer ones.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Hermione balled her fists at her sides and squeezed. She could feel the soft fabric of Draco’s trousers brushing against her knees, still laying over the edge of the bed. Draco seemed to be waiting for something. His eyes were narrowed as if he were studying her or he was far away with his thoughts. Hermione wanted to scream at him. To hurry up or stop or just…anything! But then his hands were warm on her closed thighs, moving down to cup under her knees. As her knees came up, his warm hands continued down her calves to her ankles. With one ankle enclosed in each of his large palms, Draco placed her feet flat against his chest.

It was oddly intimate. And somehow calming. Just a little.

But then Draco pulled out the end of one of the ribbons and began to tie it to her left ankle and calm was not at all how she felt.

Hermione took slow deep breaths so she wouldn’t panic or squirm or simply pass out from the adrenaline coursing through her. The satin was cool and whisper-soft sliding over her legs and ankles.

Around and around and around he wrapped it, so slow and so careful. And watching her face the whole time. Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away from the intensity in his eyes as the smooth, shiny orchid ribbon became thick around her ankle and up the lower part of her calf. God, he was torturing her!

He tied off the ribbon on her left ankle and let the long remainder trail down to the floor. She wiggled her foot a little against his chest. It was hardly snug at all. It felt rather like a nice hug. Draco waited a moment and then began to tie her right foot.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. The ache at her core was overwhelming. Her muscles contracted around the emptiness there and she couldn’t stop her hips from rolling. A sharp tug on her ankle from Draco seemed like a warning to lay still. The threatening look on his face made Hermione tighten her stomach muscles to stem her desire.

Why the fuck was he going so slow?????

But she knew why. Hermione locked her gaze on his again. His eyes were dark with dilated pupils, and his hands sure as they wound the slippery ribbon around her ankle. But there was a tiny hint of concern there. She could see it. A small line between his brows. He was giving her time to change her mind. He was giving her an out.

Draco tied the knot at her right ankle and Hermione’s heart made another hard thud against her ribs. He gripped her hips and pulled her down a little so that her ass was at the very edge of the bed. He pulled his wand out of his pocket again and cast a silent spell at the hanging ribbon.

The loose ends of her purple ribbons made serpentine patterns in the air until Draco touched the tip of his wand high up on one carved bedpost, and then the other.

Hermione’s mouth went dry. She had been trying to imagine herself with her legs spread eagle on Draco’s bed. The image was largely responsible for the blotchy red patches on her cheeks and upper chest. But this… This was somehow worse.

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

Draco smirked. He had been a little worried that he was going too far for the virginal Head Girl. Alright, she wasn’t a virgin – anymore – but she was hardly experienced. But her gyrating hips had given her away. And she was Hermione Granger. If she didn’t like it, she would let him know. Probably painfully.

As Draco watched the ribbons wrap themselves around the large grooves in the bedposts, he pulled her ankles off his chest and held them straight and open while the slack was taken up. Inside he was grinning triumphantly.

Outside, his cock was hard as iron at the sight of her pussy, pink and glistening, and opening more and more as her legs stretched wide with the taut ribbon. He smoothed his palms down the long line of soft flesh at the insides of her legs, moving up over her heated thighs towards his goal.

The ribbon finally stopped winding and Draco could see the muscles in her slim legs straining under the pull of the ribbon. She tried to swivel her knees in to hide herself and was unsuccessful. Draco watched her blush spread between her breasts and felt his control slip a little.

But it was incomplete. Before he allowed himself to touch her, he had one more task.

This time Draco made quick work of it as he came around the side of the bed and kneeled just above Hermione’s pillow of curls. She had her eyes closed tightly and he almost laughed when he had to pry her fists from the bedspread. The ribbons made neat fishtail patterns from her wrists to halfway up her forearms. When her arms were pulled taut to the bedpost at the head of the bed, straining gently, Draco sat back on his heels and inspected his work.

It was glorious.

He had Hermione Granger, the prim and proper Gryffindor Head Girl, tied up, pulled open, and writhing in her tight bonds.

Draco leaned over and put his mouth next to her ear. His long fingers sunk into her soft hair and his fingertips rubbed at her scalp. “I can see your pussy in the mirror, Granger.” He watched her legs twisting uselessly.

Draco licked at the shell of her ear. “I can see how wet you are from all the way over here. And I haven’t even touched you yet.” She turned her face into her arm and tugged once on her binds. Draco smiled.

“I can see your pussy juice dripping out of you. Can you feel it, Granger? Can you feel it dripping down over your tight little asshole? I could probably fuck you in the ass using only your pussy juice.”

She whimpered into her arm and he chuckled.

“But, not tonight, Granger. Tonight I want to see that pretty pink pussy spread open for my cock.”

Draco watched her take a deep breath, her nipples hard and straining upwards. He couldn’t resist. He pulled his hands out of her hair and reached out to pinch a nipple in each hand, being careful not to touch any other part of her breasts. He rolled the hard little buds between his fingers and Hermione’s back suddenly arched off the bed. He pinched harder and she moaned.

“That’s right, Granger. I know you like it rough. Not the delicate princess everyone thinks you are, are you?” She didn’t answer and Draco pulled her nipples up into the air, letting the weight of her full breasts and gravity tug at the sensitive buds so that she had to arch her back even more. Her eyes flew open and she took several gasping breaths against the pain. Draco gave her abused nipples a final tight pinch and let them fall. He’d like to do that with her pussy.

Draco climbed off the bed and went to stand in front of her spread legs again. God. She was beautiful. From her wild hair and flushed cheeks and chest, to her reddened nipples heaving with her breathing, to all that soft golden skin, and this perfect, pink pussy, shining with wetness.

Draco looked down at the tendons at the apex of her thighs as they strained hard. She was stretched in a very wide ‘V’ with her pussy angled up perfectly and the lips just starting to spread open. She was starting to squirm in her embarrassment at being looked at so closely. Draco smirked. She hated being looked at.

Using both hands, Draco pulled her pussy lips open and held her there.

Yes.

He stared down into her dark pink cunt. It was a sight he would never get tired of. Hermione Granger’s impossibly pink pussy. Spread open so wide. So open and so hot and slick. It took his breath away. He sunk his fingers just into the gaping opening and pulled her open again, further, stretching the skin taut and uncovering her swollen clit.

He groaned.

Draco’s cock jerked hard. It was making a strong case for freedom and he regretfully left Hermione’s sex to unbuckle his belt. He looked up at Hermione to see her face red with embarrassment and her need for relief. If it was anything like his, she was probably ready to scream. But then, Slytherins have copious amounts of patience compared to Gryffindors.

He brought his trousers and pants down together quickly and bent to step out of them. His cock jutted out and up in victory, pearly precome already beginning to ooze from the tip. Hermione’s eyes were open again and staring in fascination at his cock. He grabbed it around the base and slowly stroked it. It was what she wanted, he knew. And he was just going to tease her a little with what she couldn’t have yet.

Draco stepped closer so that his cock was directly over her splayed pussy, and very close. And stroked it. His knuckles ghosted over her pussy lips and nudged at her clit. Hermione tried to jerk her hips upward for more. She whimpered. Draco gripped his cock harder and did it again. Slowly. And again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned loudly and decadently in pleasure.

But he had to stop or he would come all over her. He would save that for a special occasion.

He stepped back and kissed her right ankle. A long slow, sucking kiss just above the orchid satin holding her in place. Her foot twisted in its binding. Draco’s tongue made a long line down the inside of her leg, stopping to lick at the back of her knee, where she twitched and let out a small plaintive sound. And then he kissed and sucked, open mouthed and hot, inside her thigh, just where her leg bent and inches away from her clenching pussy.

His fingers pulled at her swollen pussy lips again and he blew hot breath on her clit.

“I like you like this Granger. With your legs wide open and your pussy spread open for me.”

A distressed groan escaped her. He was getting to her.

“How does it feel to know that I can use your body any way I want and there is nothing you can do about it?”

Draco blew on her clit again and then let go of her lips. He watched her eyes frantically search the ceiling and her breasts heaving with rapid breaths. She was close to losing it.

“I wonder what all your little Gryffindors would say if they could see you like this. What would they think of their precious Golden Girl?”
He let a finger trace lightly up and down her soaking slit. And then he went in for the kill.

“What would they think of you if they knew how much you like this? What would they think if they knew how badly you wanted it?” Cause he was sure now. She wanted this. And needed it. She needed this chance to surrender like this.

“Tell me how much you want it, Granger.” His hand made wide, gentle sweeps over her protruding, wet pussy lips, just touching her sensitive clit on each pass. From her attempts to roll her hips up, Draco was pretty sure she was about desperate to come. Truthfully, he was pretty desperate himself. But the chance to watch her fall apart like this was too enticing.

“Tell me, Granger” She didn’t make a sound. It was amazing to Draco how hard it was for her to ask for what she wanted. He wasn’t sure if it was pride or shyness, but it wasn’t serving her.

“Tell me, Granger!” Draco slapped her open pussy. Hermione gasped and it turned into a groan as she rolled her hips.

“Come on, Granger, say it,” Draco growled and slapped her pussy again, harder this time. She bucked and a desperate sob broke out.

Draco brought his hand down on her pussy, the wet sensitive flesh making a loud thwacking sound in the quiet room. She moaned again, quicker, but still no words.

“Do you like having your pussy spanked, Granger?” He slapped her again. His cock felt like it was going to burst. He slapped the swollen flesh again. He was not being gentle. Her pussy was dark pink and slightly swollen. But she was trying so hard to roll her hips in her tight confines. Like she was trying to beg with her body.

Draco spanked her pussy again and again. Her hips bucked madly. He could feel his face and neck and chest heat up with arousal. But he needed her to say it.

He spread her puffy lips with one hand, just barely exposing her clit and let his fingers slap the bundle of nerves. “Tell me you want it, Granger, or I’ll have to stop.”

“No,” she whimpered. Draco kept her lips spread but didn’t slap her again. Her hips bucked in plea and she let out a distressed sob. He listened to her panting and trying at last to screw up her courage.

“No. Please. No.” It was a quiet, pitiful attempt, but she was getting there.

“You have to say it, Granger.”

“Yes… I want it. Plea…se,” her voice broke. Hermione’s eyes were shiny and Draco began to panic that he really had pushed her too far.

But then in a tiny, clear voice she continued, “I liked it. I like…,” she sucked in a breath, “I like you being in control. Please… please, I want you to… I want you…”

I want you. It made his heart ache.

Draco bent over and sunk his fingers underneath her head. He captured her lips in his and kissed her with all the sublime ache he felt for her. It was hot and gentle and intense and so full of want that he had to break the kiss before he broke open.

He lifted his head and looked down into her amber eyes.

“Fuck me.” It was a low, deep growl that came out from clenched teeth and caught Draco off guard. As though her admission had freed some primal self. Draco’s cock throbbed and he positioned himself at her swollen abused entrance.

In a long, deep thrust, Draco buried himself in the hot, wet sheath of Hermione’s pussy. His eyes slid shut and he stayed there for a moment feeling her walls squeeze almost painfully around his cock. He took a few deep breaths and tried not to come right then.

“Please, Draco.”

Draco straightened and pulled out of her slowly. Her thighs trembled and he wrapped his hands around them and gripped them hard. He shoved back in hard. And again. And again. Somehow, her pussy squeezed him even tighter and Draco increased his pace.

He looked down between them at his cock, slick and shiny, disappearing between her wet lips, and then tugging at the inner flesh of her pussy as it clung to his shaft when he pulled out.

A prickly flush crept up Draco’s back and shoulders as he pounded into her. Hermione’s little begging moans pushed him faster. Harder. Her desperation making him desperate too. Her bound body tugged at the ribbons with every thrust and he watched, enthralled, as her head tilted back and the tendons in her neck pulled taut. Her back arched. He was lost in the moment, thrusting into her, on the edge of watching her fall apart.

He was fucking her like a man possessed. Like he needed to see her stripped her bare. To fuck her so thoroughly that she would know nothing but him.

He was going to come.

Draco released one of her thighs and his came down in a small slap on her engorged clit. She screamed. A guttural, rough, vicious scream that felt like it tore through Draco’s head and down his spine.

His own strange, loud groan ripped out of him as he slammed into Hermione’s convulsing pussy one last time. His body was rigid and his head thrown back as he exploded inside her.

Minutes, or centuries, later, the ribbons released their hold on the posts and Draco’s sweaty, flushed body was falling on top of her. Hermione. Under him. Hot and sweaty, like him. His arms dug underneath her and clutched her tighter, his face buried in the soft curls at her neck.

He could feel the words forming in his mind. Little clouds coming into existence. There. Almost there. Soft. Quiet. I love you. He opened his mouth next to her ear. But they wouldn’t materialize. He couldn’t tell her. Not tonight when there was so much at stake. Maybe not ever. But he let his mouth stay open a moment just in case.

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

Hermione’s eyes never opened after he fell on top of her, cradling her torso to his. Her legs curled around his thighs, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers threading through the hair at the back of his head. The long ribbons draped over his back. But her eyes remained closed.

Draco lifted his head to look at her. He smiled.

She was a mess.

Her hair was tangled and wild and stuck to her face and neck in wet curly strands. And her skin was sweaty and blotchy pink on her cheeks and down her throat. She looked exhausted.

She was exquisite. This was the image he would keep with him tomorrow. His proof that he was worth something. Something good.

He rolled to her side and closed his eyes, trapping the image behind his eyelids.

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

Later, long after their breathing had evened out, and the ribbons were strewn across the floor, and they lay next to each other on their backs, eyes still closed at the edge of sleep, her voice found him.

“Draco?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you scared?”

Draco looked at the ceiling and blinked. With three little words she had made him feel instantly vulnerable and stripped. And a part of him hated her for it. And loved her for it.

His mind searched for an answer that wouldn’t leave him exposed and defenseless, but all he found was the truth.

In the silent space between them, her small hand founds his and she threaded her fingers in his and squeezed.






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((((( beta'd by the brilliant eevilalice. Thank you! ))))))


I know this was so long coming! I hope you like this chapter! And I'd love to hear what you think!