Alohomora!

additional disclaimer:
this was created as an entry for a one-shot lemon malfoy/hermione contest that my friends and i had. normally, i wouldn't write one-shots.




Hermione looked at her watch in panic. Oh no, she thought. She was already 2 minutes
late for Potions, and she had only just entered the dungeons. She held onto her books
tighter, and started to jog. She wasn't in the mood for Snape's anger, but she realized that
she didn't have much choice. She gritted her teeth and rounded the last corner at full speed,
abandoning all self-consciousness. Suddenly, she was on the floor, books piled
everywhere, and someone else's legs were tangled in her long robes.

"What where you're going next time, Granger!" a snarling voice identified the legs as
Malfoy's. She scowled and knelt, collecting her books as Malfoy grabbed the two he was
carrying and stood up. She stopped feeling herself being watched, and blushed,
immediately conscious of her form bending over. She looked up to see Draco, tilting his
head in a miixture of amusement and satisfaction. She pursed her lips and went back to
work, grabbing the last book.

"What are you looking at, Malfoy?" a stern voice echoed along the dungeon walls. Snape
had come out of the classroom, hearing the commotion. He now stood above the both of
them, smirking. "My, my. What an interesting rendezvous I've interrupted. You two
obviously cannot stay away from each other long enough to make it to class on time. Since
I'm so amused by the idea of this juxtaposition of houses, I won't deduct points - yet. But,
Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, you will have detention with me, tonight, at 7:30," Snape
chuckled.

"Professor! Honestly! It's not what it looks like!" Hermione snapped, grasping the
suggestions Snape had thrown at them. She was not going into detention with the snotty
Slytherin mother's boy next to her.

"Enough! I don't care what it might or might not be. I've seen sufficient evidence to make
my decision. Now get into the classroom before I stop being so generous!"

Malfoy glared at Hermione, walking behind her and Snape back into the classroom.

"You filthy Mudblood. I had plans for tonight," he whispered.
"So did I, but I wasn't the one staring, now was I?" she whispered back venomously,
before sliding into a seat next to Ron. Ron opened his mouth, but before he could say a
word, his curiousity was quelled with an angry glance from Hermione. He closed his
mouth quickly, fighting the urge to ask her what the hell was going on.

Potions was even more frustrating than usual, with Snape making pointed remarks to both
Malfoy and Hermione. The rest of the class was in uproars by the end, but Hermione
rushed out, fuming.

"Wait!" gasped Harry, running with Ron to catch up to her. "What on earth happened?"
Hermione stopped, looking around furiously.

"I was late for Potions, and then I ran into Malfoy - literally. My books went everywhere,
and so as I waas bending over to pick them up, that pervert was looking at my ass, and
Snape noticed where he was looking."

"What ass, Granger? Do you honestly think you have one worth looking at?" Malfoy
appeared, grinning wickedly. The disappearance of Crabb and Goyle over the summer had
morphed him into something less frightening, and more markedly immature. Hermione
rolled her eyes, then stalked away as Harry and Ron watched in mild amazement.

"I knew she had an ass," said Ron. "Cute one, too," he added. Harry looked at Ron,
chuckling, and jogged to catch up with Hermione.

Seven-thirty rolled around all too quickly for Hermione. Rounding that last, not-so-
memorable corner, she sighed, and prepared herself for the worst.

"Finally decided to show up, Miss Granger?" asked Snape. His cold eyes held more than
a whisper of danger, and a glint of laughter. Malfoy stood to the side, pointedly not
looking at Hermione. "Well, I'm most glad that you did, because I have an interesting even
planned. Seeing that you two can't keep yourselves off of each other, I've taken that into
consideration. You need to learn a lesson. You need to learn to be careful what you desire,
because you may not be ready for it. I'm about to teach you how dangerous desire can
really be." Snape was obviously enjoying the brilliance that he could see in his own plan.

"It's Friday night, as I'm sure both of you are well aware. Therefore, you will have plenty
of opportunity to catch up on sleep tomorrow. Now follow me!" he commanded, leading
them out of his office and across the hall, into an empty dungeon room. "I shall be retiring
to my chambers to sleep. You must find a way to survive the night." Snape declared.
Then he mumbled a few words, sending invisible flames up Hermione's robe, burning her
skin. She gasped, and looked at Malfoy, to see how he was reacting to the fire, but his
eyes were wide, and he was shivering and convulsing, as if he were being frozen. The
door slammed, and both turned to it just in time to hear Snape lock the door.

Her skin alive with heat, Hermione ran to the door, colliding again with Malfoy. But this
time, when their bodies made contact, her skin stopped burning. She gasped, realizing
what Snape had done. She put a hand on his arm. Malfoy looked at
her,

at once, no longer shivering.

"Malfoy, I think...I think we have to keep in...contact with each other. Because I feel like
I'm burning when I'm not - when I'm not touching you." He looked at her skeptically,
then pulled away. They both gasped in pain, for it seemed to have magnified tenfold. They
locked onto one another's arms.

"He must think that you and I are a ...couple, Hermione," he spat, though with less
maliciousness in his voice than usual. He looked at her, gauging her reaction.

"I had figured as much. Stupid bastard," Hermione lamented. They looked at each other,
drinking in the image that each were bound to until the morning. A few scars accented
Draco's cheekbones, from battles over the last years. He was looking into Hermione's
eyes shrewdly, as if trying to calculate her worth. Hermione's eyes were sharp and
piercing, and a few wisps of hair were caught in her long eyelashes. Her lips pouted
naturally, and she had a few scars of her own.

Malfoy broke away from her gaze, and looked at the floor.
"Listen, Granger - I mean, Hermione - sorry about the comment I made about your ass."
She looked at him furiously.

"Oh, you mean I do have an ass?!" she broke away from his hands, shuddering as the
invisible fire seemed to eat away at her skin. He grabbed a hold of her, panicking, and they
fell to the floor, on their sides. Both gasping for breath, they turned their faces away from
each other. "Sorry, Draco. Sorry about that. I forgot."

"It's okay...Hermione." Draco managed. Now that he had seen her eyes, it was almost
painful to turn away from them. He wanted to dive into them, immerse himself in her gaze.
One of his arms was trapped beneath her ribcage, but suddenly he didn't mind so much.
He grabbed her chin with his other hand, forcefully, wanting to look into her eyes again.

Hermione started, then returned his gaze. She almost wanted to move, so that his hand
wasn't so close to her chest, but she couldn't find it in her to turn away. His eyes seemed
to reach inside her, and she wished that she was wearing something even more
conservative than her robes. It was the same feeling she had gotten when she was picking
up her books, only intensified. She blushed.

He smiled a little, reveling in the realization that he had made her blush. Suddenly he
wanted to take control of her, and make her do more than just blush. He wanted her
quivering in his arms, he wanted her to give herself up to him. He almost pulled away as
he registered his own feelings. But then he felt her finger, trailing up his neck. It was just
a susurration of a touch, but it sent a wave of emotion crashing down his spine.

She wasn't sure why she was doing this, but she had the urge to touch him. He looked
almost too perfect, and she wanted to see what he felt like. She wanted to know what he
felt like everywhere. She wanted him to know what she felt like. She caught herself.
What was she thinking? This was Malfoy. This was the inconsiderate, immature boy that
had called her a Mudblood just this morning. This was the Slytherin leader that had
tormented her and her friends since 1st year. This was the egotist that had stood up for
Voldemort all those years. But she remembered his fleeting compassion as he helped
Neville off of the ground during that epic battle. She remembered when he turned his back
on Voldemort and fought for a new age of wizardry. She remembered how he looked at
her this morning. She felt his smooth skin almost melt beneath her fingertips, and his hand
that hadn't left her chin.

He smiled at her. And it wasn't a malicious smile, or a cocky smile, it was a curious smile.
Draco was unsure of himself, and it showed. Somehow this cemented everything in
Hermione's mind, and her hand found it's resting place, cupping his jawline.

He suddenly rolled on top of her. He couldn't take anymore of this teasing, gentle
touching. He needed to feel her tremble beneath him, like a hummingbird, so tense. He
was tense himself. He leaned over her face, his hair resting on her forehead. She looked
up at him, slightly nervous. He smiled again, this time sure of himself, and reassuring her.
He leaned down further, and his lips brushed hers.

She needed more than this teasing, gentle touching. She grabbed the back of his head and
kissed him ferociously. His lips met hers with almost an electric touch, and she shivered.

He could feel her shivering beneath him, and he took it as a sign to continue. Her lips were
firm, but willing, and reminded him of summer peaches. He wanted to drown in the taste
of her, but he'd settle for just kissing her - until her hands started to wander.

At first she just liked running her fingers through his hair, but she wanted to feel his lean
muscles ripple beneath his skin, and change. She wanted to feel the power of the human
body in her hands, and she ran them down his back, delighting in the energy beneath his
skin. Her fingers trailed down, down, down, until she reached the outline his belt made in
his robes. She stopped, nervous as to what to do next. This had never happened with Ron
and her. There was never this power, this raw energy that she could sense now. Perhaps it
was the magic that Snape had bound them with, but she couldn't get enough.

Draco needed her to continue. He needed her fingers to trace along every sinew in his
body. He stopped her, and sat up straddling her hips, and ripping off his robes, revealing
his pants and shirt beneath. He dived back to her soft lips. She returned her hands to his
back, but this time reached up beneath his shirt. He found her hands and guided them
along his belt for a few seconds. She didn't need anymore urging, and explored his soft
skin, just under his belt. He felt so velvety, and she couldn't pull away.

He was mesmerized by the waves of sensory pleasure washing over him. But he needed
more. He was overcome with the need for more feeling, more touch, more Hermione. He
pulled away, and sat up again. Hermione lay on the floor beneath him, taking deep breaths,
and looking up to him with wild, curious eyes, silently asking why he had stopped. In
response, he tore off her robes and flung them across the room. Before he could return to
her lips, she pulled him to her, and kissed along his jawline. Her kisses were featherlight,
and tantalized him. But he was done playing around. He grabbed her fiercely, pinning her
slight form down with his weight.

Hermione returned the kiss even more ardently when she felt his hands reaching up
underneath her shirt, stroking the lines of her ribcage and the dip in her waist. Then he
ripped her shirt open, holding their kiss. A few buttons popped, scattering to the outer
edges of the room. Hermione, taking the hint, ripped off his, and they lay together,
passionately kissing, and delighting in the intoxicating friction of their skin.

Draco could feel her hipbones, exaggerated by the distribution of her weight. He wanted to
crush her, to enfold her like she had never known before. He moved, slightly, testing what
the change in pressure would result in.

Hermione gasped. She could feel Draco - all of Draco - pressing against her. She replied
to his pressure with a bit of her own, grinding against him, in a rhythm that she knew
instinctively.

His hands wandered. He knew he was ready, but a sudden burst of sensitivity told him
that she wasn't quite on the edge yet. He knew he could take her there. He explored the
hollow beside her hipbones, and the line running along the very top of her thighs. She
moaned, and pressed against him. He quickly quieted her, tiptoeing his tongue around the
edge of hers. Instead of exploring from above, he pulled up her skirt, exposing her damp
underwear before ripping those off too. Then he resumed his caresses, moving lower, and
lower, enthralled by the softness and wetness that was inherent in the territory. He wiggled
his fingers, and stroked. She arched her back, against his weight. She wanted to know
him, every aspect of him, in every way. Malfoy had transformed, and she could sense it.

She broke off, turning her cheek to rest against his while her hands reached for the button
on his pants. She fumbled with the button just long enough for him to get worried, and
then she inched downward. She tried to concentrate on the ceiling above them, and not on
his labored breathing, or the silken skin yielding beneath her hands. She recoiled slightly
when reaching his shaft, but when his hips ground into hers at her touch, she acted on his
response, and tentatively grasped it.

"Out," he whispered, just loudly enough for her to wonder if she had heard it. But she
pulled down his zipper, and took his penis out anyway. Hermione turned her head so that
she could see what it looked like, finding it long and firm. She started testing different
movements when all of a sudden, he grabbed her cheek and pulled her face towards him.
As their mouths met, he grabbed her hands, and pinned them to the ground beside them
She could feel his body move, and suddenly, there was a pressure against her folds. She
intuitively spread her legs, desiring as much contact as was possible.

Draco thrust forward, needing to experience her. Her body was alive, and squirming in
pain and pleasure. She broke away, gasping at the sensation that was filling her. She felt
more alive than ever before. Before he was halfway in, he met a slight barrier, but he
pushed through, compulsively. He engulfed himself inside of her, relishing the wetness
that was gently pressing from all directions. He pulled out, and in, noticing the shudders
and tremors rippling through her body. He got lost in the rhythm, with each push being
driven to faster frenzies. His hands on her wrists could feel the wild pulse as she writhed
in rapture.

She opened her eyes, startled, yet elated as she felt herself being filled like never before. It
was enough to send her over the edge, into a state of bliss that with all of her words and
clever comments, she would never be able to pin down. It was a feeling of freedom, and
contentment, but still yearning for someplace she just couldn't reach. And then she reached
it, finding a level of understanding, and power, and a strange vulnerability, all at the same
time. She looked up at Draco.

Their eyes were wide with wonder and exhiliration. They looked at each other for a few
minutes, in amazement at the feelings that had flooded through each other, so intensely.
Then Malfoy pulled out of Hermione, and laid his head on her chest, feeling her heartbeat.
They breathed deeply, and silently, trying to come to grips with all that had just happened.



Snape got dressed with vigor the next morning. He was a little nervous. Hermione was
sure to have hexed Malfoy into pieces by now. He realized that they weren't a couple, but
that's what made the punishment work. Perhaps Hermione had even found the
counterspell. She was a clever witch. Annoying, repulsive, conceited - but clever. He was
a little anxious, now. What if Malfoy was hexed to pieces? Well, whatever the case, he
could have Hermione expelled in a heartbeat.

"Alohomora!" he whispered, intent on not disturbing what was sure to be the ruins of a
battle scene. What he saw shocked him. Hermione was laying on the floor, asleep, her
skirt above her waist, and shirt open. Draco was laying on her, his head resting between
her breasts, his shirt open, and fly clearly unzipped. Both looked content, and exhausted.
Snape backed out, shocked, and closed the door behind him again, not bothering to lock it
this time. His plan had backfired. What was sure to have been a night of torture for each
had metamorphosed into a night of love and happiness. He took a deep breath. Potions
was going to be torture for those two lovebirds from now on.