A Refreshing Change

This story is a follow-up to my fic, Set the Table for Three, but can be read independently. I would recommend reading that one, but if you don't, you need to know that Hermione has been in an intense sexual relationship with Lucius. One night she and Lucius included Draco in their activities. Since then, she has found it hard to stop thinking about her lover's son ...

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It had been two months since the night Draco had come round for dinner, and Hermione had not seen him since.

The whole event had been a matter of curiosity to her. She detested Draco with a passion, but that evening had been carried away by the overwhelming lust she had for his father. However, she could not deny that the desire had transmitted itself then to the younger man. She had frequently replayed the moments between them in her head; the image of Draco pounding into her while his father looked on was not one that she could, nor wished to, forget.

She and Lucius had not mentioned the incident since, and their lives had settled back into their usual erotic haze of near perpetual arousal.

But Hermione could only admit to herself that she now thought of Draco often. She would close her eyes and picture his pale, smooth torso rising up before her; so slender, the muscles taut but with a subtle swell under the surface. It was a thing of beauty, she could not deny it, and the fact that his body was so much a part of Lucius seemed to be drawing her to it.

She could taste him in her mouth for days after the encounter. His mouth and his cum were utterly distinct to his father’s, something which fascinated and intrigued her. On occasions since, when she had taken Lucius into her mouth, she had recalled the feel of Draco, how he had been more slender, but still completely delectable. She had hungered for him then, and it had become clear to her that her desire for him had not faded.

Did this evoke a sense of guilt in her? It did not.

It was Lucius who had initiated the encounter. She had never considered Draco as a sexual being before then. If it had not been for the thrill Lucius had derived from seeing her with his son, she knew she would still not find him attractive.

She was in love with Lucius. It had taken a long time to admit it to herself, but when she finally had, she wondered how there had ever been any other way. He had awakened in her such a profound realisation of self. The ‘passion paradox’ she had termed it. She was drawn inextricably to this man who represented to her everything she wasn’t, but who had accepted her, exalted in her, and brought her more pleasure, more life than anyone she could imagine. Yes, their relationship was far from conventional. Hermione had discovered things about herself that she had never imagined possible, as indeed had Lucius. With the pleasure often came pain. Pain and control.

They rarely discussed the psychology behind this, but the need to give and receive it was so fundamental to their relationship, to their identity and the healing of their pasts, that there was no need to.

And his son was part of that.

The night at the Manor had revealed to Hermione that Draco was inexorably linked to them, through his own torment, through his own suffering.

She remembered his face as he had left that night, watching as Lucius had once more reached down to her womanhood, pulling her pleasure from her yet again. Draco had never seemed so lost. Hermione had delighted in it at the time and had abandoned herself to his father’s perfect attentions. They had not slept all night.

The control they had both exerted over Draco that night thrilled her, but had shifted her perception of him. She wanted to taste it again. Wanted it for herself. Wanted it for Lucius.

Still, as she sat for a quiet lunchtime drink in the Leaky Cauldron, she was thinking not of the son, but the father. She took a sip from her glass and looked up at the noise of the door creaking as someone entered. It was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione immediately felt a smile capture her features.

He stood momentarily, glancing around the room to take in who was there. Their eyes met. He looked mildly surprised to see her, but turned away with a sneer and approached the bar. She lowered her head, and returned to her drink.

After a while, footsteps approached.

“Granger.”

Hermione raised her head and met the cold eyes.

“Hello, Draco.”

Silence.

“Do you want to sit down?”

The young man did not respond immediately, and looked away from her, apparently wrestling with a decision. Then suddenly, he pulled the chair out with a clatter and sat on it.

She smiled to herself and kept her eyes trained on him.

He did not return her gaze and ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly.

“How have you been?” she inquired after a while, appraising him curiously.

“Alright.”

“Work OK?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“Draco ...?”

“What?”

She waited until he met her eyes.

“It was really good.”

He flushed a little and the corners of his eyes twitched with disgust. “My father is depraved.”

“Then so am I.”

He sneered.

Further silence. Hermione at length broke it.

“I can’t forget it. I don’t want to forget it.”

At last he looked at her evenly. She held his gaze, then rose from the table, returning a short time later.

Reaching down for her drink, she finished it swiftly.

“Room six. Ten minutes.”

Hermione walked away, leaving Draco alone at the table.

He stared out into the room, the muscle in his jaw working incessantly. His foot tapped manically under the table. He drank nothing. But, after exactly ten minutes, he threw the contents of his glass down his throat and made his way up the stairs.

Finding number six, he paused briefly, his fingers coming to run through his hair again. He raised his hand, forming a fist and bringing it within an inch of the door. He paused. Draco’s head fell, and his hand with it. Then almost immediately he raised it again and knocked firmly.

Footsteps approached steadily. Hermione came to the door and held it open for him. Not looking at her, Draco walked in and stood uneasily in the centre of the room.

She closed the door, locking and silencing the room thoroughly with a charm, and turned towards him, walking slowly and deliberately over.

He glared across at her, resenting her power over him, but knowing he had already risen to painful hardness.

Hermione approached and glanced up and down his body. He was dressed in jeans, but had a smart black jacket like his father often wore. She knew that she only found this young man attractive because of the similarity to Lucius, but at this moment, she wanted his son as an individual. Instead of drawing in closer to him, as she knew he wanted, she circled him, slowly and sensuously; a cat with her prey. He felt a hand on his shoulder, drawing across his back, catching the hairs at the nape of his neck. He drew in a breath.

Her hand remained on his other shoulder and she moved to stand before him, leaning up and whispering in his ear. “The last time I kissed you, you tasted of strawberries. I liked that.”

Hermione ran her fingers down his torso, reaching inside his jacket briefly and allowing her warm hand to press against his firm abdomen. He inhaled again.

Then slowly, so slowly, she leaned up to him, her mouth parting a little, her tongue flitting out to wet her lips. He could hardly breathe. Her swollen ripe redness was a mere breath away from him. She smiled a little, then just as she was about to grant them to him, pulled back and giggled slightly. “Patience, patience ...”

Something inside Draco snapped. He grabbed both her arms roughly, pulling them behind her back.

“Enough teasing! I’m not one of your toys!”

Hermione’s eyes widened, but she could not deny the twist of pleasure which coiled through her.

“My my! You’re more like your father than I thought.”

It was Draco’s turn to lean into her. He still held her arms behind her back, pinned at the wrists, but he breathed against her ear, more sensuously than she had imagined possible.

“You like that, don’t you? You like doing what my father tells you. You like his control over you.”

He gripped her arms tighter, pulling them into her. She cried out with sudden pain. “Does that hurt? Hey, Granger? Does it?” His voice was now soft and malevolent, poured into her ear. “Answer me!”

She turned to look at him, her face twisted a little with the discomfort he was causing. “Yes.”

He looked at her with realisation, his eyes sparking. He saw an equal fire in hers. “You like that too, don’t you? You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

She breathed heavily, but would not lie to him. She knew the signs of her unstoppable desire; the twist inside, the throb of her womanhood, pulsing, swelling, yearning. The father ignited it in her with the merest look, and now the son was doing the same. “No.”

“You’re a filthy little Mudblood bitch, aren’t you?” His voice was more dangerous than she could ever recall. She stifled a moan of longing, not wanting to give him too much satisfaction, too soon. Draco continued. “Do you know how much I hate you? How much I have always hated you? But when you started fucking my father, I wanted to kill you more than ever before.”

She looked at him as impassively as possible. She was not scared, but she could not ignore his control over her at that moment. It was not how she had imagined the situation to be.

She had wanted the power, and tried briefly to fight him. She struggled against his hands. It was useless. For someone so slender, he was remarkably strong.

“No. This time –“ he sneered against her, his voice low and dangerous like his father’s, “we do it my way.”

Draco pulled her arms hard again and drew another gasp. She knew from the shift in her belly that she had decided to capitulate to him; and that she would reap the benefits with her pleasure. She resisted a little more and elicited a twist of her wrists. It hurt. Her belly jolted with desire. His breath was hot in her ear. She could feel his lust through it, heavy and palpable against her. “I want to be in your mouth. I’ve thought about it every single fucking day since. I can’t get the image of your hot little Mudblood mouth sucking my cock out of my head.”

Hermione bit her lip involuntarily in anticipation. She immediately wanted to enact the picture he had just painted for her.

He released her wrists and she drew her arms back. They had grown numb and she moved them tenderly, allowing feeling back into them. Draco reached for his belt and pulled it swiftly out of his jeans. “Don’t get used to it, you slut. Turn around.” She did so without question. She could feel her desire dampening the inside of her thighs. As had become her habit, she wore no underwear. With a grunt of urgency, Draco captured her wrists again and bound them tightly behind her with his belt. The hard leather dug into her flesh and she writhed her arms a little to relieve it. She could not, but soon enough her lust overrode the discomfort and it translated merely as pleasured anticipation to her mind.

He turned her around again and looked down at her with his familiar arrogant sneer.

“Now – on your knees.”

Hermione knelt before him, her mouth opening with longing. He pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them, then did the same with his boxers. Her belly twisted as his smooth long shaft rose towards her. Again, the excitement and thrill of having another man’s cock surpassed any comparisons she may have made with his father’s.

Draco grabbed her hair hard and pulled her head back. She groaned with pain, but raised her eyes to his, opening her mouth for him. He gave her a twisted smile then pushed her onto his cock. Immediately she closed hard around it, delighting in the full round head. Draco groaned as pleasure engulfed him. “Fucking hell! Fuck, how I’ve waited for that. Take it, bitch, take it all.” He pushed further into her, slowly at first, allowing her tongue to work its magic on him.

Hermione sucked and pulled at him as if she had been starved. Her delight in the task could be heard in her mewls and moans, but her mouth was so full of him that they were muffled against his cock, merely adding to the heady erotic tension in the room.

At first he worked her head on him, moving her up and down the flesh regularly, allowing her lips and tongue to draw his pleasure out as his other hand gripped the lower shaft. Then she looked up into his eyes, and he could hold back no more. Pushing forward, he lowered himself down further. Hermione relaxed her throat. After much practice, she had learnt to take his father’s complete length down her; she knew this would not be so hard. She had done it before. Draco’s long shaft descended past the back of her mouth, until she felt it moving down into her throat. She could no longer breathe. She clenched around it. Draco gave a guttural moan of triumphal satisfaction.

God, how she loved this! The thrill she derived from holding someone in her mouth at their most vulnerable, yet their most vital, tasting them so bare, so palpable on her tongue, stripping them of all their dignity but giving them the most exquisite pleasure; it was always a moment of epiphany. Each person was balanced precariously on a teetering seesaw of control. The man was using her, abusing her even, but knew he would do anything to continue the perfect pleasure as this woman debased herself so willingly for him. She could hold a cock down her throat, unable to draw breath for a considerable time, feel it swell inside her, tighten her muscles around it. Then she would pull back, or allow Lucius, as it always was, to pull her back. He always knew the perfect moment, never too late, never too soon.

Hermione now needed to draw in air. She tried to pull back from Draco, but found herself unable to, due to his hand pushing her onto him. She felt her mind swim. A slight feeling of panic started to well up in her. She held his gaze and knew the panic was reflected in her eyes.

He continued to push her down, gazing at her in wonder. She wondered if she could take any more. Did he know how desperate she was becoming? At last, just as she thought she would pass out, he brutally pulled her back. She gasped in as the air rushed back to her lungs, panting heavily. He granted her time to recover. Hermione gasped for breath, her saliva thick in her mouth. He had not relinquished his grasp on her hair, and soon she felt him pushing her towards him again. She resisted momentarily, but on glancing at the smooth, desperate head of his cock, so engorged and rigid, she could only open frantically for him once more. She turned her eyes up to his.

“Yes, yes, again, again.” She knew she was begging him.

He sneered, pushing her immediately down again, all the way, his own deep, delirious groan breaking the air around them. “Fuck, you’re incredible, you’re incredible, slut. Take it, take it, take it.”

Again, his cock was fully in her. Hermione clamped onto it hard, staring up into his eyes. She held him as long as she dared. Her lungs began to protest their need for air, but she ignored it, focusing only on the intense sexual rush she was experiencing.

Only when Draco could sense her complete surrender to him did he pull her back again. She dragged her lips hard over his flesh as it went, and he knew he was there. Grasping his cock hard in his own hands, not releasing his grip on her hair with his other, he pumped the shaft urgently. It only took a moment for him to come violently with a grunt of exultant pleasure, a stream of obscenities pouring from his mouth. His cum burst out, covering her face, neck and chin. Hermione’s mouth sought out his release, and the few drops she caught on her tongue she swallowed avidly.

Draco came down slowly, gazing with wonder at the sight before him. This brilliant witch, who he still detested, covered in his seed, desperately trying to taste as much of him as possible.

He reached down and scooped up much of his cum onto his fingers, forcing them into her mouth. She sucked at them hungrily.

Draco then leaned over and pulled Hermione roughly to her feet, pushing her towards the bed. She fell forward onto it. Her own lust was all consuming, her body shaking with desire. She desperately wanted to be touched, to feel, something, anything.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her up so she was kneeling, her face pushed into the bed, her arse raised up to him.

“Fucking hell, Granger, I can see your pussy dripping from here.” He came to kneel beside her, stroking her hair out of her face, whispering in her ear. “Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to touch your soaking cunt, your hard little Mudblood clit?”

“Uh huh,” she could only groan.

“I know you do. Your cunt is burning for me, isn’t it? Isn’t it?!”

“Yes, yes, yes. Touch me, please, touch me, fuck me, fuck me.”

“You know what, Granger? As much as I would love to plunge my cock as hard into your tight cunt as I can, I think you need to learn your lesson first. You see, all those times you put me down, made me look like a fool at school, beat me, beat me out of what was rightfully mine ... stole things from me, stole my father from me!” The last words were shouted brutally. Hermione flinched. “You got away with it, Granger. I think it’s about time that was addressed ... don’t you?”

Hermione looked at him fearfully.

“Oh, don’t play the innocent with me, Granger. I know what my father’s like. I’m a little pussy cat compared to him. None of this will be new to you, believe me. Still, it’s always a refreshing change to try someone different, isn’t it?” He smirked, and ran his hand down her back, coming to rest against the soft flesh of her backside. He caressed and stroked it. She mewled. Then suddenly, almost unexpectedly, he raised his arm and brought his palm down sharply to smack against the flesh. Hermione gasped at the sting. Draco was looking at her intently. He smiled a little more. His hand rubbed over her rump, then he withdrew it and did it again. The spank resounded through the room. Hermione flinched, the pain more pronounced this time. It only caused her pussy juices to flow relentlessly onto her thighs.

Draco raised himself up and positioned himself perfectly to throw his arm down onto her. His face furrowed with determination and severity. He raised his arm high behind him and brought his hand down forcefully. Hermione was jolted up the bed, the sting causing her eyes to water. Draco now started a regular pattern of spanks, alternating between the cheeks of her reddening rump. A slight sob was torn from her with each impact. It merely made him increase the viciousness of his blows. His cock dripped relentlessly onto her legs. He did not stop his strokes. The pain at first seared through her, bringing moans of agony from the witch, but at length the burn shifted into a glow of sensation, travelling over her flesh and into her burning cunt.

Draco could tell she had altered her perception. Her cries of pain were now mere groans of satisfaction. He laid into her ever harder, his cock throbbing with each smack that resounded loudly into the room. His arm started to ache, but only told him he was achieving his aim.

“That’s for being more popular than me.”

Whack.

“For being cleverer than me.”

Whack.

“For beating me in every fucking exam I ever took.”

Whack.

“For that fucking Potter.”

Whack.

“And bloody Weasley.”

Whack.

“And that’s ...” Whack “... for my father.”

“Spread your legs.” She did so. She heard him inhale deeply, girding himself. She knew what was coming.

He brought his hand down harder than ever, making contact with her clit itself. Hermione screamed as the most extraordinary combination of pain and pleasure tore through her.

“And that’s for saving my fucking life, bitch.” He did it again. She cried out, not sure if it was in agony or with the approach of an orgasm. Her clit was on fire. And again. And again. “Why the hell did it have to be you?” He was almost weeping.

Hermione was shuddering with pain and desperate, frantic lust. Her arms were numb from being tied behind her back and her backside and clit throbbed with a searing agony, but in the midst of it all, she desperately needed her release. Her body could bear no more. She had controlled her own tears, through the beating, through the insults, but now she needed to come or she thought she would break down. Just as she felt her resolve collapsing he moved and there was something at her soaking, tormented folds. Something so soft, wet and tender she did not recognise it at first, so different was it to what had just been. It was his mouth.

Draco sucked and licked her tormented pussy suddenly and deliciously. Hermione let out the longest moan of relief and pleasure, as if her soul was being released from within. He laved skilfully and agilely, questing in to taste her juices before running his tongue back up to rub hard over her inflamed clit. She came instantly.

Her body juddered uncontrollably against him as the pleasure ripped through her, heightened by the burning heat of her rump and pussy. She cried out with fulfillment and turned her head out of the sheets to hear her own ecstasy. The rapture continued to pour over her body, her body which had been so primed with sensation that when it finally arrived it soaked back into itself over and over again.

As the last convulsion finally left her, her legs straightened and she collapsed uselessly onto the bed. Hands came up and undid the belt. Her arms fell immobile to the side, blood rushing back into them painfully.

She lay prone, almost lifeless, incapable of thought, the atmosphere of the room heady with the aftershock of her rapture.

Should she have felt gratitude, revulsion, anger? Her psyche allowed her no emotion whatsoever.

She could only acknowledge that she had wanted what had happened.

After some time, as her body continued to recover, Hermione felt a cool substance rubbed onto her backside, soothing its heat. It was exquisite. Draco’s hands massaged gently, removing some of the pain merely with his touch.

The contrast to his previous manner was overwhelming.

“Why are you doing that?” she managed to exhale out.

“Because I want you to be able to take more,” he said callously.

She smiled blearily, not believing him entirely.

The ointment soothed her quickly and she lay on her side, feeling the burn subside. He came to lie next to her, on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

They were silent for the longest time. There was nothing that could be said. Their acceptance of each other was complete.

“Did you ever think about sleeping with me at school?” she eventually asked curiously.

“Sleeping with you!? For fuck’s sake, Granger. I wouldn’t call what just happened between us sleeping with you!”

“You know what I mean.”

He sniffed out a laugh.

“All the time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Opposites attract and all that. Y’know, I’m a bloke. We want to shag anything that gets under our skin, for whatever reason. Never would have done it though. Hated your guts too much. Still do, by the way.”

“Don’t worry – I still hate you too.” She smirked at him.

He looked across and couldn’t stop a small smile spreading over his own face.

“Did you ever – think of me in that way?”

She had to be honest. “No.”

He was clearly disappointed. “Don’t mince your words, Granger.”

“I never thought of you like that until the night with your father. But since then – I’ve thought about you – a lot.”

“And when you thought about me – was it anything like what just happened?”

She paused.

“Sometimes.”

More silence.

“Do you let my father hurt you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Is it essential to your relationship?”

“No, but it is reasonably frequent. Sometimes – there is just a need to exert control – and to give in to that control - to remind each other and ourselves of who we are, of what we have been through. People who are as wounded as us, Draco, and I include you in that, we need to hang on to feeling, sensation, to remind ourselves that we are alive. You just demonstrated that.”

He sighed. “I suppose it was something like that.” He paused. “Does he let you hurt him?”

“I am not going to answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is not up to me.”

Another pause.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he loves you?”

“Yes. In his way.”

Draco sniffed derisively.

“Will you tell him about us?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be here with you now if I thought he would mind.”

“You think he’d like it?” He sounded incredulous.

“He may.”

Draco sniffed again. “You’re both fucked up.”

“And you’re not?”

Silence.

“Draco.”

He turned to her.

“Kiss me.”

He suddenly realised that so far they had not done so. It somehow felt odd now, as if it was too intimate, too forgiving. He was not sure he wanted that. He hesitated.

“Strawberries,” she whispered, moving closer to his mouth. He parted his lips and she touched them sweetly. She moved her mouth against his. It was the most beautiful, tender moment. He almost wept, picturing his brutality with her earlier, his cock choking her, his hand beating her.

“How can you ...?”

“Shh ...” she breathed into him, deepening the kiss. Her tongue moved languidly within his mouth, searching for his own. He joined it with hers and they danced, mingled, slowly and sensuously. Strawberries. He felt his cock growing thick and hard and knew he would have to be inside her. He had resisted it so far. He did not have to wait much longer as she flung her leg over him and positioned herself over his engorged head quickly.

Before she lowered her body, she bent down and plundered his mouth again. He captured her lower lip between his teeth and she pulled back hard, causing blood to be drawn from it. She licked it off and laughed deliriously.

Then slowly she moved down, sinking onto him inch by inch. Her head fell back and a moan rolled up out of her to fill the air. Draco too let out a cry of satisfaction, not taking his eyes from the sight of him disappearing into her. It was even better than he had remembered.

She started to move, slowly, up and down, withdrawing almost fully before squeezing down onto him again. She leaned back so that he caught her g-spot each time and her own moans became louder with each plunge. Draco knew he could not hold on for long and gripped her hips hard, pushing her down onto him.

But her hands came to his and she brought them up to her breasts. He rubbed over them lightly at first, flicking the nipples with gentle touches.

“No,” her voice was surprisingly harsh. “You know what I want. Hard.”

He gazed up at her in awe, but immediately took her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and squeezed them.

She inhaled. “Harder.”

He pinched them tight.

“Harder.” Her voice was insistent, desperate. He complied, pinching her nipples then twisting them brutally. His face flinched as he saw what he was doing to the tender buds, now red and distorted, but as he looked up, her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. A long slow breath was released from her as she focused on the sensation pulsing through her body. She stopped all movement and continued to breathe out slowly. He could feel her pussy tightening hot and urgent around him. He twisted harder. Her eyes opened and stared in glazed blankness at the ceiling. She was almost delirious. He had never known such sexual power. He felt triumphant but profoundly humbled in equal measure.

His cock throbbed. He needed to feel her.

“Move, slut.”

His words made her refocus, and she started to move along him again. He kept his hands at her nipples, and her body no longer distinguished between pleasure and pain. Her backside was still throbbing from his assault of earlier, and each time she slammed down onto him, a reminder of it surged through her. Draco was delighting in the agony being drawn from her nipples, and ensured he maintained his grip on them.

Hermione lost all sense of reality. Her body was simply channelling sensation, be it pleasure, pain, anticipation, she could no longer tell. She arched her back and moved quickly on him. With a final push along her burning walls, she came explosively, her body engulfed in wave upon wave of rapture. Draco felt her, saw her and could hold himself back no more. He raised his hips off the ground to be as far into her as possible, and came desperately, shooting up within her.

“Oh fuck, oh fucking hell, Granger. Unbelievable, you’re unbelievable, you filthy slut.” He sobbed his truth out, as his body was gripped with the most cataclysmic orgasm he could remember. “You filthy dirty fucking Mudblood whore, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

With a final groan of release, the last ripples subsided from Hermione and she collapsed against him as he released her nipples at last.

Neither spoke again.

She eventually rolled off him to the side. He hated coming out of her soaking hot pussy, but tried not to show it.

He glanced across at her breasts. The nipples looked angry and sore. She noticed him looking.

“Don’t worry – they’ll recover. Soon enough too. They’ll be ready for more. They love it.”

“You talk about them as if they’re your friends.”

She laughed. “They are. You need to be acquainted with all parts of your body and what it’s capable of to fully experience the pleasure you can derive from it.”

“Seems like you’ve practised a lot.”

She smiled. “So have you, apparently.”

“You forget, Granger ... I’m a Malfoy.” He smirked at her. She continued to smile back. “Although, I did find you – particularly inspiring.”

“God! A compliment from Draco Malfoy. I am honoured!”

His smirk widened, then his face grew serious again.

“Does – he – do that to you?”

“Of course.”

He was not sure he liked the matter-of-fact manner she was exhibiting.

She looked at him. She could tell he was finding the discussion odd.

“I want to be honest with you, Draco. What happened at the Manor means you deserve that. I won’t forget the look on your face at the end. I ...”

“What?”

She was silent.

“What, Granger? You didn’t seem bothered at the time.”

“No. And for that ... I’m sorry.”

He did not respond. After a time, Hermione spoke again.

“I have to go. I should be at work now anyway.”

Hermione got up, showered quickly, then returned to dress before him. He could not stop looking at her.

“Thank you. For apologising.”

She smiled. “Do you want to see me again?” she asked openly.

“Yes. But ...”

“But what?”

“Father ...”

“I do not know if I shall tell him yet. And anyway, he will come round, even if it is not initially. I know him. You’re a part of us now, Draco. We cannot deny that. He cannot. After all, it was he who set the ball rolling to start with.” She continued dressing. “I want you to come round to the Manor again soon.”

His cock immediately twitched. The thought of sharing her with his father again, knowing what he now did about what she could take, was almost too much.

“Did you hear me?” She was insistent.

He looked up at her, almost embarrassed to show how much he wanted it. He nodded quickly.

She turned to go. “Goodbye, Draco. I will see you again soon.”

She gave him a slight smile and left the room, shutting the door abruptly behind her.

Draco sighed and fell back on the bed. He may have thrust his cock so far down her she could not breathe, bound her, beaten her, but he knew full well that everything that had happened between Hermione Granger and himself, had happened because she had wanted it to.

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Hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts. x