Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Summary: When you are in a room with an unconscious Draco Malfoy with only a bowl seperating the two of you, what do you do? What do you do?!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my perverted little brain

Notes: Am totally plagiarizing myself here. I used a similar concept once before for an H/Hr fic of mine (although it went through an entirely different course). The inspiration is a certain scene from that old Tom/Nicole movie Far and Away. And the title, well I couldn't think of one so I just put in the Queen song I'm listening at the moment. Freddie Mercury rocks. No betas, all mistakes to be blamed on coffee. I also understand I've ignored the level of hostility between D/Hr, simply because I DON'T WANT TO WRITE ANGST! I wanted to have fun, fluffy smut. Second part shall be posted in two days (I promise) PLEASE REVIEW!!! KTHXBIE!


She was going to survive this. She was not coming out of this a murderer (because there was no way in hell he would ever get the better of her, of course).


Those were the thoughts happily running through Hermione Granger’s head as she walked towards the Forbidden Forest with Ginny Weasley beside her, their arms hooked together, and four paces behind Draco Malfoy.


Hermione had gotten detention earlier that afternoon for speaking out of turn in Snape’s class, seventh year Potions. Actually, she would like to make it clear that she was unmistakably tricked. Snape had surreptitiously raised an eyebrow at her while her hand was raised, and she had fallen for it and took it as permission. Of course he had berated her for disrespecting a teacher and being an insufferable know-it-all. And just her luck that it was one of those days when her mind-mouth reflex was working full time and said, “Can you not come up with anything else?”


At that, Snape instantaneously announced that she was going to serve detention that afternoon in the Forbidden Forest. With Draco Malfoy (who was unrightfully given detention by McGonagall when he was just innocently dropping slugs down Neville’s collar, according to Snape). She felt as if he pricked her with a very large needle, and then dropped an elephant on her head.


She certainly did not want to serve detention with Malfoy alone. It was a spell for danger. In fact, she would go as far as to say that Hermionia Malfoya was the fourth unforgivable curse. Wait, that didn’t sound right. Definitely did not sound right.


Thankfully Ginny was caught snogging a sixth year Hufflepuff somewhere along the third floor corridor. And just in the nick of time. The Hufflepuff was given detention with Filch (poor chap) while Ginny was thrown into Hermione’s and Malfoy’s mix.


Thus the odd bunch walked out of the Hogwarts Castle at precisely four o’clock in the afternoon, walking down the field, past Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. They were to collect Avinnelids, thermophilic animals that were used for making Warming potions, especially needed now that winter season was nearing.


“Thank heavens you’re here, Ginny. I don’t think I could last two seconds alone with this git without hexing him to the next dimension,” Hermione whispered, ducking her head closer to the girl who was half a foot shorter than she was.


“I wasn’t exactly planning to do you a favour, but glad I could be of service,” she answered with a smirk. “Besides, what are you worried about? He’s not going to try anything. He’s not stupid, you know?”


“Well, he has a talent of grating on your nerves with just the simple act of existing,” Hermione explained.


“Good point,” Ginny said. The two girls snickered lightly.


“I can hear you from here, Granger,” Malfoy yelled at them without turning to look at them.


“Good then, so now you know I don’t like you,” she answered cheerily.


Ginny giggled at Hermione’s remark as Draco turned to glare at her. Though he didn’t say anything. Two years ago this unresponsive nature would’ve surprised Hermione. It truly seemed uncharacteristic for the Malfoy heir to let go of an insult, but that was the way he had been ever since his father’s arrest.


In fact, if Hermione were going to be honest with her self, she had been the one harassing the blond Slytherin these past few years, never letting go of a chance to attack his dignity even when unprovoked.


Of course, it was only to even up all the abuse she received from him the first five years, she reasoned to herself. Nothing wrong with a little vengeance; it’s not as if she actually did him any harm.


Thus Hermione continued to talk. “So Malfoy, bought any peroxide lately? Because your roots are beginning to show.”


Ginny practically snorted out the pumpkin juice she had that breakfast from laughing so hard.


“I’m not in the mood, Granger,” he merely replied.


Hermione, who was holding Ginny up by the arm, the girl still not able to recover from her giggle attack, said, “Is that what you told Parkinson last night?”


Malfoy appeared unnerved though he didn’t say anymore and continued to walk, intent on ignoring the derisive snickers the two girls behind him were making. He was so busy calming himself down that he did not see a deracinated tree root protruding from the soil.


Thankfully, Hermione did.


“Malfoy, watch out!”


“I’m not falling for that ag—Aarrggh!”


Ginny let out an anxious squeal as Hermione rushed to Malfoy’s side. He fell down face first and Hermione, gathering all her strength, turned him around so he was lying on his back.


“Malfoy, are you alright? Say something,” Hermione asked as she shook him by the shoulders.


Ginny came up behind her. “What happened?”


“I think the fall knocked him out,” Hermione answered, strained worry in her voice, “Oh, we have to bring him back to the castle. He’s too heavy to carry.”


“Well I suppose we’ll have to leave him here, then,” Ginny said as if it was the only logical thing to do.


“GINNY!”


The redhead shrugged. “We were instructed not to do magic, you know. And besides, he’s Malfoy.”


“He may be the biggest prat in all of Scotland but we’re not going to just leave him here to die,” Hermione said, her head shaking in disbelief, “And this is an emergency so I suppose it’ll be okay to use magic.”
G
Ginny only rolled her eyes. “You know if it were the other way around, he’d leave us here at the mercy of horny centaurs.”


“Ew.”


“I know, I squicked myself too,” the redhead answered with a sour face.


Hermione shook her head as if to remind her self to focus on the task at hand. She took out her wand from the makeshift holster (a loose garter from one of her old uniforms) tied around her left thigh and muttered, “Mobilicorpus!”


Malfoy’s sun-deprived body floated in mid-air. Hermione maneuvered him deftly, making certain he didn’t hit any tree or its branches.


“What’re you doing?” Ginny questioned with an impatient tone, “Don’t be so careful. Bump his head a few times, might knock some sense into him.”


“I don’t think he’d appreciate it if he woke up with purple bruises on his perfectly anemic skin,” Hermione answered with distaste on her face.


“Are you sure we should take him back to the castle? You know, Snape is going to blame you for what happened, right? Sure he’ll pin some guilt on me too, but he’s going to be blaming you for everything,” Ginny thought aloud.


And though Hermione dreaded the thought, she knew Ginny had a point. Snape would definitely use some event like this to further his favorite pupil’s cause; as well as to make her life just a bit more miserable; which is basically his favorite pupil’s cause.


“We’ll take him to Hagrid’s first then.”
As sAs soon as they caught site of the ironically tiny hut, Ginny ran past Hermione and up to the back door and banged her fist on it.


“Hagrid, open up!” Ginny squealed.


Hermione just reached the steps to Hagrid’s hut, Malfoy’s body still suspended before her, when the half-giant opened the door and immediately gasped at the scene that greeted him.


“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, what happened?” Hagrid exclaimed sounding very much like someone just kicked his shin.


“He fell. We didn’t do anything to him! He was being stupid and blind! So not our fault!” Ginny explained for Hermione.


Hermione cut in, “It was a bad fall. He may have hit his head, I haven’t checked.”


“Bring him in here, I’ll see to him,” Hagrid instructed.


He ushered the two girls inside but as soon as Hermione safely levitated Malfoy’s body to Hagrid’s bed, he shooed them out the door.


“I need to, err, check for bruises and apply some healing salve. You stay outside and I’ll call you when he’s prepared,” he replied to their loud protestations.


And with that he slammed the door at the two girl’s faces.


“Do you think Malfoy’s going to die?” Ginny asked out loud, as if she had only really meant to think it.


“GINNY! Don’t say things like that,” Hermione said, biting a worried lip.


“What? It’s a valid question. He might’ve hit his head and we all know he’s a bit soft in that spot,” Ginny added the last part with a snicker.


Hermione turned to her with a critical look. “Ginny, if he dies, we’re in big trouble. And besides, no matter how horrible he had been before, I would never wish that upon him.”


The smaller girl blushed and looked down her small hands. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”


“It’s alright, Gin.”


“And I didn’t know you were so in love with him.”


“GINNY!”


The redhead never got to answer as the hut’s door flew open and a red-faced Hagrid greeted their eyes.


He huffed. “You two get in there and watch Malfoy while I go get Poppy.”


He fled the spot before either had a chance to breathe a yes and left the still swinging door open.


The two girls quickly ascended the steps. Ginny went in first, while Hermione drug the door closed behind t It It was at the very moment when Hermione heard the distinct click of the door locks that Ginny Weasley’s lucid and obscene scream permeated the brunette’s ears, rendering her deaf for a few seconds.


“What is it?!” Hermione asked, the interrobang reverberating loudly in her question.


Ginny only pointed towards Hagrid’s bed in response. Hermione felt her blood shoot up from her feet.


Draco Malfoy was lying unconscious on the bed in all his pale glory with only a green cereal bowl to keep his dignity.


“Oh god,” Hermione squeaked like a little mouse tempted with cheese, “I think I’m going to go barmy.”


“I can’t be seeing this! My eyes!” Ginny said, covering her face with her hands.


Hermione turned to look at her. “You realize there’s a big gap between you index and middle fingers, right?”


Ginny gave her a cheeky grin and put her hands down. “Who am I kidding, the man is beautiful?” She tilted her head to the side and sighed as if she wasiriniring Michelangelo’s David.


“Don’t stare at him, it’s rude,” Hermione berated her though she kept stealing glances at Malfoy’s almost naked (if it weren’t for that damn bowl) form.


“Hagrid did tell us to watch him, you know,” Ginny said with a coaxing wink.


Hermione stared at her with conniving eyes. “And we should, he might fall from the bed.”


Ginny giggled and spied Malfoy with a naughty grin on her face. “I have an idea.”


Before Hermione could ask about it, Ginny was already walking to Malfoy’s direction. Hermione’s long legs caught up with her quickly.


“Gin, you’re not going to….”


“Yes, I’m going to.”


“You can’t!”


“Oh come on, he’s sleeping. Don’t you want to know what all the hoopla’s about?”


“That’s invasion of privacy, Gin!” Hermione reasoned.


“See, Hermione, those only apply to humans,” she jabbed with a wicked grin.


“Ginny, I’m serious. I do not want to see Malfoy’s thingy,” Hermione insisted, the commanding tone of her voice a mismatch with the redness of her face. She grabbed Ginny’s arm for effect.


“Well if you still call it a thingy, you’re not allowed to see it,” she answered with an exaggerated sigh in resignation.


Hermione let out a relieved breath and smiled.


Ginny continued. “But I can say penis, and I therefore am allowed!”


“GINNY!”


“Go sit in the corner Hermione,” she replied, sticking her tongue out. Shruggrugged her arms away from Hermione’s grasp and started for the bed. And blame it on serendipity, but just then they heard Ron’s voice calling out to them from outside the front door.


“Ginny! Hermione! Hagrid said you were here, open the door,” Ron yelled.


“Oh dear. I don’t think he’ll be too happy to see Malfoy like this,” Ginny stated.


“Like you were?” Hermione remarked sarcastically.


“Do shut up, Hermione, we have a situation at hand. What do you think he’ll think if he sees us with Malfoy, like this?” she said with a snooty roll of her eyes.


“Something really nasty, I guess, involving us and our wanton and debauched desires,” she concluded calmly.


“You truly are the smartestch tch in Hogwarts,” Ginny answered. “How I wish my brother was smarter.”


“Well, he would be half correct. You had wanton and debauched desires,” Hermione jested and Ginny poked her in the rib.


“I’ll go out there and lead him away. Try not to kill hot ferret man in his sleep,” Ginny said with a wink as she headed for the door.


“I’ll do my best,” Hermione called out to her retreating back.


Ginny opened the front door slightly and slipped her lithe figure through the small space, not giving Ron time to sneak a look inside. She locked the door behind her. Hermione heard muffled snippets of their conversations. Ginny said something about “Fang,” “flatulence,” and “gas” which immediately convinced Ron to walk back with her to the castle.


Once their footsteps were out of earshot, Hermione turned to look at the unconscious figure on the bed.


“Well, this is awkward,” she said to no one.


Hermione walked towards a chair beside the bed, her feet treading as light as butterfly kisses, as if afraid to wake Malfoy up. She sat on it and assumed a prim position; her knees and feet locked together, her hands tightly clenching the hem of her skirt and her shoulders stiff as boulders. Perhaps if she sat like a little girl, the bad, dirty thoughts would go away.


But how could it when the most perfectly chiseled man was served buffet style in front of her? She did not know what Malfoy had been doing, but he did it right. It definitely was not Quidditch. She’d seen Harry and Ron without their shirts on and neither looked as good as the boy lying in front of her.


Good wasn’t even the term to describe Malfoy. More like scrumptious. Steaming and rich like roast beef, tempting and sweet like ice cream. Ice cream, yes, that’s something she’d want to lick off him right now.


“STOP IT!” she groaned a little too loudly and smacked her forehead with her palm.


Hermione held her breath as Malfoy’s eyes twitched. She sighed in relief as his face relaxed, confident that he remained unconscious. He shifted a little, as if to find a more comfortable position. And this movement almost caused Hermione a heart attack, as it caused the bowl to slide towards one side. A whistling intake of breath swallowed the room as the bowl exposed a teasing bit of blond curls.


Hermione could not fathom why but she started giggling madly. There was only one way to stop this inanity and that was to make sure all of the Malfoy family jewels remained concealed from her traitorous and wandering eyes.


She made her way to the bed, her entirety as red as the tomato pin cushion of her mother. She moved carefully, almost as if she was scared the green bowl would jump out and attack her. For a moment she was tempted to touch the skin on his hipbones, just to see if it was as th ath as it looked. Merlin, those hipbones are beautiful. She let her hand graze it lightly, only to pull it back when she felt a jolt of electricity enter the tips of her fingers, electricity that made her think she could do anything. Even bad, naughty things that Harry Potter’s best friend should not be doing.


She had to cover Malfoy, pronto.


Hermione held her hand out, shaking like she was afflicted with Parkinson’s, and set the tip of her index finger on the base of the bowl. She tried to prod it to cover Malfoy but it seemed something was blocking the way. She took a deep breath; she will have to move it with her whole hand if she wanted it done.


Hermione bit her lip and closed one eye as she reached over the curve on the other side of the bowl and began to push. She was so focused on the task at hand that she did not notice Fang coming up behind her until he gave the back of her knee a lick.


“Eeep!” Hermione yelped as she jolted forward, unable to maintain her balance.


She fell over Malfoy and slid towards the other side of the bed with the bowl in her hand. She landed on the floor with a thump followed by a crash.


“Awww,” she moaned.


Her wrists and ribs suffered most from the descent. She lifted her torso up, using her palms as leverage. There were shards of green glass around her. She maneuvered carefully so as not to scrape herself. She got onto her knees and wiggled around.


“Granger, what’re you doing?”


Hermione could’ve sworn her stomach fell out of her butt at that moment.


“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”


She covered her eyes with her hands and curled down on her thighs trying to erase the vision of Malfoy’s rather impressive assets.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked perplexed. He was very near her, she could tell from the way his heat affected her body.


“MALFOY YOU’RE NAKED!”


There was a moment of silence before all hell broke loose.


“Holy shit!”


Sounds of sclingling and swishing were heard as Malfoy reached for the white linen on the bed and wrapped it around his waist.


“It’s safe to look now,” he said, breathing heavily.


Hermione slowly lifted her head to find him standing right in front of her. Except this time the flowing linen outlined his strong, muscular legs. She should definitely stop thinking of him with adjectives borrowed from cheap romance novels.


She didn’t have time to say anything as he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her up.


“Granger, tell me what the hell I’m doing in Hagrid’s hut completely naked on his bed?” he said menacingly. Well, as menacingly as a naked man could. His face was so close to hers and she could feel the hot air of his breath brushing her nose with every word he uttered.


“Well, if you put it like that, definitely sounds shifty,” she replied with a nervous laugh.


Malfoy only tightened his grip on her in response.


“You were knocked unconscious, because you were too thick to listen to me. And then we brought you here and I think Hagrid put some sort of healing balm on you; that was why you were naked. Well, not really naked there was a bowl to cover some private parts,” her voice began to falter at her latter points.


“Well where’s the bowl?” he asked suspiciously.


“It, um, broke?” she said fretfully.


“Did you break it?” he asked. There was something in his eyes. Amusement perhaps? It couldn’t be, Hermione thought.


“I didn’t mean to!” she squeaked.


Hermione expected him to be horrified, to be angry, to yell at her, try and strangle her even. She did not, and never would have in all her years at Hogwarts, expect him to laugh. But that was exactly what he did.


His laughter sounded caustic but the glow in his eyes said otherwise. He seemed thoroughly amused by the situation, which made Hermione feel an apprehensive twist in her gut.


“Stop laughing!” she commanded with a weakened voice. The lightheartedness of his approach made her think of possible unsettling conclusions to their afternoon; particularly one that involved Malfoy announcing to all of Hogwarts that she had molested him.


“Granger, I didn’t know you had it in you,” he said suggestively. She was highly aware that his grip on her shoulders had loosened but she did not try to move away.


“I told you, I didn’t mean to!” she insisted. She could feel her cheeks flush as if all her freckles were on fire.


“If you wanted to see it, I would have gladly given you a private show,” he whispered to her, voice low and husky.


There was that look on his eyes. She saw it once before, during the Yule ball, with her hair held up and his guards held down. She understood for the first time what it meant and wondered how she was able to miss it.


“It was an accident. I swear,” she breathed, vaguely aware that she was leaning her head forward.


“I’m sure,” was all he said before he brought their lips together.


Everything about him was unexpectedly something. He was unexpectedly soft, like delicate chiffon cake, unexpectedly sweet, like sugar quills on sale, and unexpectedly gentle, like a loyal husband of a decade.


His tongue was warm and comforting like a wool blanket as it slid along her upper lip, urging her to open up for him. He explored the hot cavern of her mouth with much enthusiasm, ashe whe was trying to show her everything that he was in just one kiss.


He pulled her closer to him, their hips rubbing together causing the blanket wrapped around his waist to fall down his hips. The distinct feel of his erection pushed against her stomach. She knew instantly where he wanted this to go.


She put her hands on his chest and steadily pushed him away.


“I don’t think I can do this,” she explained.


“Just this, or all this?” he asked calmly.


“All this,” she said. Something inside her told her not to look at his eyes.


“Bravery never did work for Slytherins,” he said with a mocking tone.


Hermione didn’t know what to say. For the first time in her life, she knew for certain that she had hurt him, in a way more painful than any jeer or hex she could’ve given him. She didn’t feel as good as she once thought she would have. What do you tell someone you had deliberately hurt?


She didn’t know, and so she fled.