Watching

DISCLAIMER: I am not J.K. Rowling and I own none of the Harry Potter characters or anything associated with them. I can promise you that if I did own them I wouldn\'t be writing this, I\'d be swimming in a tank full of money with a naked Tom Felton *grin*.


Watching

I\'ve been told that there are two kinds of people in this world: the kind who believe it is their duty to do the right thing, remain innocent, and be selfless, and then there are those who believe that they should live life to make themselves feel and look good. If this is so, then I am the latter, although to be honest I don’t really believe that this division in fact exists.

I see how people behave; they all act whatever part they believe they have been cast. Those two, the ones attempting to not make eye contact, they’re my favorite form of entertainment lately.

Do you see how she throws herself into the conversation around her? That is probably the biggest mistake she makes. You see, I know her. I know how she behaves around her friends; little Miss Innocent. To them she’s quiet and bookish and, in their eyes, bordering on asexual.

She throws herself into this role to distract herself from the truth. There are only the two of us, herself excluded, who really know her. We know her sharp wit, her passion, the sounds she makes when she finally lets herself go. We know the look that consumes her, that pleasure so overwhelming that it borders on pain.

Now him, he’s a much better actor than she; not to insult her intelligence or anything of that ilk. He rules this house; cool, aloof, sometimes almost cruel. He concentrates on his meal never looking her in the eye, but he does see her.

He lifts his face, a bored expression graces it, and scans the assembled crowd. He knows where she is sitting, who she is with, and what she is eating. He fools them all, but not me.

No. I know what’s going on behind those cold eyes. He is remembering. He can recall the way she felt in his arms only hours ago. He remembers what perfume she put on, Beautiful, the color of her knickers, green—a gift from him--, and he remembers how many love bites she had to hide this morning, twelve (a smug look crosses his face at this).

But most importantly, he remembers that he is meeting her in twenty minutes in their room.

They dubbed the Head common room theirs because enchantments prevented them from entering each others rooms. The plush couch, covered in velvet cushions, remained transfigured into a queen sized bed at all times, save those days when the heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin paid them a visit. On those days it was turned back as it was meant to be, seemingly innocent.

He couldn’t help but smirk whenever McGonagall or Snape found themselves sitting on his and Hermione’s bed.

Dinner finished and Draco begged off his friends’ insistent pleas for company with the usual excuse of ‘Heads’ Business’. She was waiting for him when he arrived, sitting primly on the bed, a false pout on her lips. He bent and kissed her soundly on the mouth, giving her a command to strip as he pulled away from her.

She stood and let her robe fall to the floor, pooling around her feet. He settled himself in a wingback in front of the fire, admiring her form in the flickering light. She removed her tie; first loosening the knot, then pulling it over her head and through her, now shoulder length, curls.

The top few buttons of her shirt were already undone, and she slowly made progress of releasing the rest.

Draco was reclining in his chair by now; legs spread, lazily drawing his fingers up and down his clothed length. Her eyes darkened at his seemingly unconscious actions. She pulled her shirt away from her shoulders, allowing it to slowly slide from her arms, all the while thrusting her lace covered breasts toward him.

The zip on her skirt was lowered next as she bent double to remove it. She knew he liked the sight of her running her hands down her thighs.

He groaned at the sight that met him when Hermione righted herself. She didn’t wear nylons or knee socks like the other girls in their class. She stood before him in nothing but a sheer, white, lace push-up bra and thigh highs.

She apparently didn’t feel it necessary to replace the panties he had confiscated that morning.

He loved her in white lace, looking so virginal when he knew all the while that the opposite was true; that was just one of his kinks he supposed.

Her hands went behind her back to release the catch on her bra, letting her breasts drop just a bit with their weight. Her stockings remained where they were as she sat back on the bed, spreading her legs to his hungry gaze.

Draco freed his cock from his trousers, letting her see just how aroused he was. His length stood, red and swollen with anticipation, pointing in her direction. He grinned.

Growling out his request to her, Hermione spread her legs further reclining against the gold velvet pillows. It took her a long time before she was comfortable enough to admit that she loved to be watched while she touched herself.

There was something about having Draco there, watching her, groaning in need and arousal that made Hermione cum in a way that nothing else could. No one would ever believe that the quiet Gryffindor was sexually active; much less that she was an exhibitionist. She wasn’t sure when she realized that being watched as she pleasured herself turned her on.

She was so shy the first time she and Draco had masturbated in front of each other. Now, Draco didn’t even have to touch Hermione; she could cum just from his watching her.

She ran her hands, palms open, fingers spread, down her body. She palmed her breasts, too large to fit in her hands, and then slid them teasingly down her sides and across the soft skin of her abdomen. Looking Draco straight in the eyes, Hermione put two fingers in her mouth and moaned as she sucked on them.

She brought her hand down to cup her weeping mound and slid her wet fingers along her nether-lips. Moving in closer to her core, she drew circles around her erect clit with one hand, and pumped two fingers into her flesh with the other.

Draco groaned at the sight she made; back arched, both hands gripping her pussy, head rolling side to side as she mumbled incoherently.

He rolled his balls in the palm of his left hand, massaging them while squeezing his cock to alleviate some of the pressure she was causing him.

Hermione came then, body still, back arched, toes curling into the mattress, a silent scream on her lips, her fingers still pumping her pussy furiously.

Draco couldn’t hold back anymore. He shed his clothes quickly, dropping them haphazardly on the floor as he made his way to the bed.

Hermione had not come down from her climax yet when Draco pulled her hands out of her dripping core and replaced them with his mouth. He sucked her lips into his mouth, then ran the flat of his tongue up her weeping slit. She cried out this time as another orgasm gripped her.

Draco pushed himself up over her body to claim her lips in a fierce kiss. He shared Hermione’s taste with her, knowing that she enjoyed her flavor as much as he did.

Gripping her arse in both hands, Draco pulled Hermione down flat on her back and entered her roughly; he knew she preferred it that way. There would be time for slow sensual love making later, right now he knew that she just wanted to be fucked, and hard.

Hermione’s legs fell open further, if it were possible, as Draco slid his hands from their position on her arse, down her thighs pulling her stockings down to her ankles in their wake.

Hermione’s arms went around Draco’s back, crushing him against her chest, digging her nails into the hard muscle she found there.

Draco’s hands wandered back to the pliable flesh of Hermione’s bum again, gripping it as his thrusts gained speed. At the feel of her inner walls clenching him tightly, Draco came with a scream low in his throat.

He collapsed on her then, pulling her close before rolling onto his side. They exchanged words of love before falling into a peaceful slumber.

This is who they are; not the shy bookworm and the spoiled prince, but two lovers trying to find themselves in each other.

I alone know this, well…apart from them that is. It’s amazing what a person can learn about someone, when they reside, unnoticed, upon a wall.

~Fin~


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I hope y\'all liked the story. I freely admit that I am a review whore and any you may be willing to leave will be much appreciated! Thanks for reading.