Midnight Rendezvous

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are my property, and all belong to JK Rowling and the affiliated persons. All I own is the plot.

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Midnight Rendezvous


He didn’t know why, but he just had to look for her.

Where the hell was Granger these days, anyway, if she no longer retreated to their Heads’ rooms? Of course, he could start searching in the library, even though it was nearly midnight, since it was seventh year and they did have a lot of studying to do.

And even if it hadn’t been seventh year, and there was not much studying to do, chances were that she would be in there anyway, just for the hell of it.

And as he walked up to the cozy fire lit reading room of the library, he saw her there, curled up on a crimson red sofa, a glass of cocoa tucked into her sleeve with a bright green straw emerging from it that she was vigorously sucking on. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, and she wore a navy blue turtleneck sweater.

Just the type of attire for someone twice her age, Draco observed with some sympathy.

“Very mixed up today, aren’t we Granger?” he started, and he was amused to note that she was startled by his sudden presence there. “Blue sweater, green straw, red sofa – one wouldn’t be able to tell which house you were actually in, save for the fact that you practically reek of Gryffindor so much that I’m surprised you haven’t started growing a mane yet.”

Her surprise was subsided as she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, and he cursed her for looking so damn attractive at that moment.

There was absolutely no way he could let this prey get away.

“And I’m surprised you haven’t got fangs and a slithery tongue yet, Malfoy,” she returned.

“Care to confirm that remark, Granger?” he smirked, licking his lips at her, and she rolled her eyes at him and went back to reading her book.

She evidently didn’t expect him to take a seat opposite her, and when he did, she slammed her book shut and took a deep suck on her cocoa.

“Yes?” he said innocently at her, and she glared at him.

“Why are you sitting there, Malfoy?”

“Because I assumed that this was a public space that was waiting to be occupied.”

“Not by you, but.”

“And not just by the air, either.”

She groaned in frustration at him, and he had to suppress a chuckle as she opened her book once more and pointedly started to ignore him.

“Reading a biography on good old Godric, are we?” he began, while she chose not to answer.

He sighed, and spread his legs languidly on the stretch of sofa, massaging his hair so briskly that she evidently could not stand it any longer.

“Would you desist with that?”

“But it’s time for my noon scalp massage,” he answered incredulously in mock-hurt tones. “These locks don’t grow without adequate stimulation, Granger. Come to think of it, other things don’t grow without adequate -”

She widened her eyes at him threateningly, and he shrugged at her, before sighing very loudly as he took a book from the pile she had laid on the table between them.

“One Thousand Terrible Incantations of Mutilation?” he read, looking up at the girl in disbelief. “Bit cheery for you, isn’t it Granger?”

She leaned over swiftly and snatched the book squarely from his hands.

“I’m starting to think it might come in handy after all,” she said pointedly, and he chuckled a bit nervously before her.

He decided to try a different tack.

“Feeling generous today, Granger?” he ventured, and she looked at him sternly for elaboration.

“If you’re thinking of asking for a favor, Malfoy, I would recommend a good solid few days of groveling before hand. It would certainly be the most hard work you’ve done in a long time.”

“So you would consider it, then?” he quickly said, surprised that she had not completely rubbished his request.

She sighed.

“Charity is always noble work,” she said reluctantly, and he had to forcefully stop himself from rolling his eyes at her blatant display of Gryffindority. “Depends what you want.”

She was interested. She was definitely interested.

That meant that now was the time to withdraw slightly.

“Oh, nothing,” he said quickly, and he savoured the frowning expression that had come to her face. “It’s probably not something for you, anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” he said very slowly, as though he were deliberating it in his mind. “I mean, I think it’s probably not the sort of thing you could ask of a… Gryffindor.”

She swung her legs from around the armrest to come to the floor, and glared at him sternly.

“What’s with you and defining people by their houses, anyway, Malfoy? Not everyone is clear cut in what house they fall in.”

“Ah, but you and I certainly are,” he replied, and she frowned at him.

“And like you know me, anyway?”

“Of course I know you,” he instantly retorted. “Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer’?

She widened her eyes at him.

They were huge and brown and utterly endearing.

“That’s a muggle saying.”

“And there’s much to be learnt by it, too,” he stated, wagging a finger at her. “Just because muggleborns have tainted blood, doesn’t mean that there’s nothing useful to be learnt by them.”

“And just because we may not be ‘pureblooded’, doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve some respect!” she snapped at him, and he forced himself to think of her as just a very hot girl for the moment and not a Mudblood at all.

It would certainly make this all much easier for him.

“You and I could be great together, Granger,” he started, and her eyes widened once more, but this time in complete and utter shock. “Pureblood, mudblood. Evil, good. Warm, cold. The paradoxes just keep coming to my mind.”

“And that’s where they shall all remain, in your mind only and never in reality,” she said.

She closed her book and got up stiffly to leave, and he stumbled forward to grasp her arm in his hand.

She looked at him quickly, as he thumbed her soft, tanned skin.

He rose to stand opposite her, and though she was tall and slender, he completely towered over her, and he couldn’t help but feel his trousers bulge tenfold.

How could Granger be a Mudblood and still be so damn attractive?

She couldn’t possibly have tainted blood, couldn’t possibly…

“Even if I cherish them in my mind,” he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, “Reality will always be so much more better.”

And he captured her in an iron grip, and she was startled by him as she beat her hands on his chest repeatedly, yelling for him to let go.

He hushed her, and saw that thin rivulets of moisture were pouring down her cheeks, and her dark eyes glistened with fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said slowly, wiping her tears gently, so that her eyes widened in surprise at him. “I just think it might be time to start my groveling.”

And he kissed her neck slowly, and she gasped, and he could tell that she had been holding her breath for some time indeed.

Her skin was so soft and firm, and his hand moved to undo the tie in her hair so that it fell loosely to frame her face.

She leaned her head back as he continued to ravage her neck, and her waist and back fit so snugly into the palm of his large hand, as he massaged her through her sweater, until he came to an earth-shattering realisation.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Granger wasn’t wearing a bra.

Hermione Granger wasn’t wearing a bra.

He froze as he came to regard her face, and her closed eyes suddenly opened to reveal a mahogany fire that blazed so beautifully that he had to look twice at her to make sure that she was still the same girl in his arms.

“Granger, you’re not –”

“Protesting?”

“No, I mean you’re not –”

“Screaming for you to let me go?”

“I was going to say, you’re not –”

“Kicking you in groin for trying to come onto me?”

“YOU’RE NOT WEARING A BRA!” he yelled in exasperation, and his voice echoed in the vacant library so many times that a faint red colour came to the girl’s cheeks.

“Well, it is nearly midnight,” she said softly, as though that were adequate explanation.

He looked at her pointedly.

“I see.”

“Well, those things can get uncomfortable!” she defended somewhat haughtily, and he couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably beautiful she looked in that instant. “Plus, I didn’t think anyone would come in here at this hour, anyway.”

“Right, because you’re definitely the only lunatic that would read a book at this godforsaken hour,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him as she punched him lightly in the chest.

He was still holding her tightly in his arms, and his eyes couldn’t help but sweep over every inch of her face as he finally saw her, not just as an enemy or a Mudblood, but as a wondrously enchanting woman in her own right.

“Come to think of it, why aren’t you protesting and kicking me in the groin?” he whispered, tangling a strand of her hair around his finger.

She withdrew her gaze from him, as though embarrassed, and he wished he could kick himself in the groin for disturbing their moment.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, and he was relieved, since he didn’t really want an explanation anyway.

“You know, Granger, we’ve been in the Heads’ Rooms all year, and this is the first time we’ve come within an inch of each other without our wands raised in anticipation of an argument.”

She laughed.

“I think this is more fiery than one of our arguments ever could be,” she said pointedly, and he was surprised by the insinuations of her comment.

“I like that kind of talk, Granger,” he half-growled, bringing her waist closer to him, as she tried to maintain a neutral exterior.

He pulled her head back gently whilst clutching her hair, and dipped his head to nip at her neck once more, and she sighed, a sound that seemed utterly musical to his ears as his hand slid up underneath her sweater to massage the smoothness of her elegant back.

“Granger, I want you so bad,” he couldn’t help but say, and she suddenly pushed him backwards towards the sturdy wooden wall that was behind him.

He was surprised by her forwardness, and spun her around so that she now rested against the wall, and he brought his hand around to the front of her chest, tickling her belly button so that she cried out for mercy and pulled his head even closer to her reddened and raw neck.

She gasped in pleasure, as his other hand brought her long leg up to wrap around his body.

Her hands shakily moved to pull his shirt off his chest, and as it came off smoothly in one motion, he smirked at her.

“This isn’t my first time,” he needlessly said, and she half-frowned at him.

He quickly added, “but this is definitely the best so far.”

His hand came up suddenly to massage her breast under her sweater, and she bit her lip very hard, as her body drooped under his pleasurable strokes and rubs.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, breathing heavily, as Draco gave her body no mercy in his lustful possession of her.

Her leg instinctively pulled his waist closer to her body as her hands ran over the vast expanse of his chest.

She was so bloody hot and she smelled so bloody good that it was utterly intoxicating, and Draco couldn’t resist from taking her sweater off so that he could see her body finally in all its glory.

Her skin was creamy and glowing, and her breasts plump and aching for his touch. She blushed under his blatant scrutiny.

“Granger, where have you been hiding?” he whispered hungrily, kissing her neck as his mouth dipped lower and lower towards the valley between her breasts.

She slid down the wall to sit down, as though exhausted, clinging onto him for dear life as he crawled between her legs and took one breast in his mouth while massaging the other.

“Please,” the girl whispered urgently, “please don’t stop.”

“I will never stop,” Draco promised forcefully, his index finger trailing down low to plunge into her bellybutton as he continued to suck her nipple dry.

She screamed, and Draco found the sound to be utterly exhilarating, just like the rest of her glorious form.

He had surely died and gone to heaven. This reading room in the library was definitely an incarnate of heaven.

His hand massaged her scalp, and he found the feel of her mounds and mounds of magnificent curls to be nothing short of amazing.

She was the definition of beauty, and he was on the verge of looking her up to discover her true meaning, in every depth of the notion.

He slid a hand down her pants, and looked at her quickly for reassurance.

Her eyes were burning with such need, and she desperately struggled to open her mouth to goad him on, but he raised his other hand to her mouth to stop her from speaking.

She would need all the strength to endure what pleasure he would give her later.

Her underwear was seeped with moisture, and her cheeks colored in embarrassment as he looked at her quickly in surprise.

He kissed her sweetly on the lips, whispering a faint, “You’re beautiful,” to reassure her, and she took the initiative to pull her pants and panties down in an urgent tangle of arms and clothing.

He massaged her back vigorously all the while, and after he unzipped and pulled down his own pants, his hands firmly and gently clasped the cheeks of her buttocks, as he placed her on his lap so that their parts were barely touching.

It caused utmost agony to the both of them, and as Draco, holding the girl’s back in his arms so that the mound of her breasts pressed tantalizingly against his own chest, spun them around so that his own back was now resting on the wall, the girl hastily tried to push closer towards him so that he might finally enter her and end their agony.

“Not yet,” he said gruffly, and an impatient moan escaped the girl’s lips.

He gently laid her back on the ground before him, and she bent her head towards him from the floor with a look of surprise on her face, as he trailed his index finger down the long axis of her body towards the neat mound of brown curls that sprouted gingerly below her stomach.

His hands then moved underneath to grasp the firm cheeks of her buttocks, and he raised her lower body to rest on his now bent knees, spreading the valley of her legs open and leaving her swollen sex vulnerable to his scrutiny.

She let out a helpless cry as his finger plunged slowly into her, searching agonizingly slowly for the tender button of flesh that would activate her senses and leave her absolutely alive and invigorated.

He pressed lightly on it once he had found it, and she let out a small gasp. His finger then ran slowly over it, and her breathing grew heavier and heavier, as he quickened his pace so that he was now rubbing her clit with merciless force and vigour.

She screamed continually, yelling for Draco to never, ever stop just as he kept reassuring her that he never, ever would, until liquid began to pour and pour from her sex, and her body turned limp as Draco finally withdrew his finger from her.

He hungrily lapped up her juices, squeezing her buttocks, as he tasted her as though she were a life-giving oasis.

He quickly propped her up, and plunged his tongue soaked with her juices, into her own mouth, beckoning her to taste the sweetness of her own self.

Their tongues played a violent match, as the girl sucked on his tongue so eagerly that he couldn’t help but bring her closer and closer in towards his waist.

“You taste so fucking good, Granger, so fucking good,” he insisted in an urgent grunt, and the girl began rocking against his waist and moaning continually as Draco rubbed her sweaty back through her hair.

“Oh my god, Granger,” he whispered repeatedly, as the girl nipped on his ear and rubbed the tender spot an inch or two above the slit of his buttocks.

“Do it now, Malfoy,” she suddenly provoked, her hand rising to support Draco’s head as her rocking became more and more violent. “Do it now, for god’s sake, DO IT NOW!”

He instantly pushed her down to the floor, rising above her to rub her breasts briefly, and she moaned uncontrollably as she squeezed the cheeks of his buttocks eagerly in her hands.

He came to rest gently on her as he entered her, and she stifled a cry, as he filled her so entirely that it was an amazing feeling of utter completion.

His hand slid underneath to support her neck gently, and they both rocked gently to a melodious rhythm, his blue eyes fixated on her blazing brown ones that were now an endearing shade of ebony.

She bucked her hips to quicken the rhythm, and he was only too happy to oblige, his thumb flicking over the nipple of her breast repeatedly as her hands gingerly squeezed his buttocks in encouragement.

“This is beautiful,” the girl whispered, her eyes wide with desire for the boy rocking above her.

He quickened his pace and smiled blissfully at her, the utter pleasure of their circumstances too overwhelming for him to be arrogant or haughty at this present time.

“You’re beautiful, you’re utterly and completely beautiful,” he urged, and she smiled underneath him, as the pace became gentler, and then started alternating between that and vigorous.

He finally came within her, and collapsed on top her, before bringing her body closer towards him as he shifted their forms so that they were sideways on the floor, facing each other.

He was still within her, still spilling into her as they kissed gingerly whilst repeatedly whispering sweet nothings to the other, in their arms, as their midnight rendezvous died blissfully that very night.


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