Drunklust
Story: Drunklust
Storylink: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600016289
Category:
Genre:
Author: angelfromhigh
Authorlink: http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296841860
Last updated: 11/08/2008
Words: 6625
Rating: Adult+
Status: Unknown
Content: Chapter 1 to 2 of 2 chapters
Source: Adult-FanFiction.org
Summary: It was the perfect plan. Every tear that threatened to fall would be replaced by a sip of beer. Of course even the most perfect of plans can be made more interesting. Especially when a certain blond grabs the next stool. M/F, Oneshot, Oral
*Chapter 1*:
This is a one-shot in two parts.
“You’ve reached Ginny Potters Firemachine, I’m not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a brief message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Ginny, I will be at the Thirsty Toad until exactly 1:30 this morning – at which point you will need to apparate near-by and pick me up. Apparition when drunk is not recommended – and you see I’ll be quite drunk. In fact I’ll be rather sloshed and not likely able to walk a straight line, let alone apparate home. You see your brother was using his penis to think again. And unfortunately he was using it in someone else. And thus I need –“
“You’ve reached Ginny Potters Firemachine, I’m not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a brief message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“-Gin your firemachine cut me off – as I was saying, your brother, my now ex- was cheating on me – with some tramp whose name rhymes with ginger…it might possibly be Ginger. Anyways the point of this message is to remind you of your obligations as my ex-maid of honour. You will pick me up from the Thirsty Toad at 1:30 to ensure I make it home safely. See you then!”
Hermione was completely sober when she left that message.
She was no longer that sober.
Three years she had wasted on that jerk – ‘that jerk’ would, of course, remain nameless until she could come up with an adequate hex that would bestow on him the pain he had given her, something the cruciatus curse couldn’t match.
And as she felt a tear threaten to fall, she took another swig of her beer. That had been her system all night. Every possible tear would be drunk away.
She hadn’t spoken to anyone since arriving, except the barkeep.
In fact that had been an interesting conversation.
She had plopped down in her seat and said “Beer please.” She thought she had hidden her pain by keeping the sentence short and sweet.
She was wrong. The bartender, someone mildly cute, bore his eyes into hers until she finally cracked “I just caught my boyfriend cheating on me with someone who’s named after a spice! I’ll be sitting here for most of the night until a friend comes to pick me up.” When the he didn’t respond, she asked “I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”
He shook his head no, and moved on his way.
But the relationship between the two had been solidified when she clunked her empty bottle on the counter, and magically a second one appeared in front of her. Well his name was ‘Lester’ but for the night, her bartender would be the only magic that mattered.
Sometimes Lester would wonder over and plunk another beer down – not that she drank quickly. She sipped her beer rather slowly, only occasionally taking large gulps when the big sobs threatened to break free. But it’s not like it took many drinks to get Hermione a little tipsy on her feet.
At one point a stranger looking equally distraught sat next to her. Looking back, Hermione would wonder what this stranger looked like exactly, or perhaps she would wonder what gender this stranger was. She would remember telling this faceless stool-mate something along the lines “If I had a kid I would not name the unfortunate child a herb. It would be like calling him or her ‘Nutmeg’ or ‘Gillyweed’, honestly who does that to their poor kid…Ginger, I tell you!”
To which the stranger laughed and mentioned something about an apple and a rumour… something Hermione could not make heads or tales of.
The stranger eventually left, leaving the seat to her right empty – which Hermione preferred – much less conversation that way. All she needed was Lester and his endless supplies of beer.
Someone in the Universe did not get that memo.
She recognized the smell before she even saw him. It smelled expensive and like a new car. Why anyone would want a new car smell was beyond Hermione’s sober comprehension, but in her current state the man could have smelled like a skunk and she probably wouldn’t have cared.
He placed his order, and she secretly hoped he hadn’t spotted her.
The universe clearly wasn’t receiving any of her mail that night.
“Granger, don’t you know how pathetic it is to sit in the corner of the bar by yourself, scowling at your beer?” Draco Malfoy drawled in a bored tone. He hadn’t even turned his head to glance at her.
“If I weren’t so sloshed right now Malfoy, I’d think of something more clever to say than this.” And fearing a tear in front of her co-worker, she took another sip.
“Granger, without the usual punch,” he said receiving his drink. Grabbing the stool next to her he added “I’m disappointed.”
“Only room in your head for one emotion at a time Malfoy, don’t waste it on disappointment!” She wasn’t even trying to say it with gusto. Instead she finished off the beer.
He watched as the bartender replaced it within mere seconds.
“Where’s Weasley to keep you under check tonight?”
She snorted at that comment and took a large chug of beer before she dared to speak.
“He’s currently keeping a dear Parsley under ‘check’,” she said with a dry chuckle. She kept her head facing forward and didn’t speak a word.
“Parsley is an unfortunate name,” he said looking at his own firewhiskey.
“Well it’s something in the herb and spice family.”
They sat in a comfortable silence, she sipping her beer, he his firewhiskey.
They had been working together in the same office since graduating Hogwarts. After the war, she had gained special permission to take her NEWTS apart from the rest of the students and graduated with the others. Both ‘the jerk’ and Harry joined her and passed admirably.
The job offers started as soon as Voldemort had been defeated. Graduate or not, Hermione was a hot commodity in the wizarding world.
In the end she accepted the job that shocked most. She had always been a “to change is to do” kind of thinker. Therefore she attacked the area that needed the most change – the Daily Prophet.
How could the wizarding world protect themselves against catastrophic events in the future if they didn’t know about them? While Harry went on to become an auror, and ‘the jerk’ entered the ministry, Hermione wrote about them.
And Malfoy was the fastest rising advertising executive in the newsroom. The reporters and ad folk always had an uneasy truce – the advertisers got more money, better hours and more respect from management, but without decent writers they’d be screwed – thus exemplified the dynamic between the two worlds.
Although the shock to her system, seeing Malfoy for the first time since the final battle, had taken Hermione a few moments to recompose herself, she nevertheless was determined to maintain the tentative peace between the newsroom and ad desks.
He of course wasn’t.
They’re actions were always the talk of the other employees. The names they would call each other, the looks they would give each other, the rumours they would spread – nothing compared to the food fight last March (there was still jello on the ceiling that just couldn’t be enchanted off.) Their schoolyard rivalry turned into a mild work place competition – who could outdo the other in a war of words (and sometimes jello.)
While sitting in his companionable silence, Hermione began to analyze the past few months at work.
Perhaps the passion behind her fight with Malfoy had something to do with her lack of passion in bed with Ron.
In fact the sex had been so horrendous towards the end, she found herself fantasizing about everyone from her boss, to Malfoy, to the underage mail boy (she was only human, and he did have gorgeous eyes).
And this train of though led her to finish her entire beer in one gulp.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy observed this behaviour. Since she had accidentally bumped into him at work on his first day, he was sure his life would be hell. And here he was two years later – and he desired her more than she could ever realize.
He lived for the days when she would come back with a biting remark that no one else could match.
He enjoyed the verbal sparring as they passed each other in the hall, and the constant battle for superiority.
But mostly he enjoyed watching her as she sauntered around in muggle jeans and a button up shirt. And the way her hair fell down to the middle of her back. And the quiet laugh that would sometimes snort.
And the daydreams. Somedays he wondered how he made it through any work when all he could think of was ripping her clothes off and taking her in her tiny cubicle.
Perhaps he was feeling the effects of the alcohol, or perhaps he was just preying on her weakness, but he turned and opened his mouth. His full intentions were to tell her that her lips would look much better wrapped around his cock instead of the neck of the beer.
He turned to her and opened his mouth, when a familiar voice cried out behind him, “No more beer for this one!”
Turning in his chair he saw the world renowned Mrs. Potter, and new he had missed his chance – there was always another day at the office.
“Let’s get you home Hermione,” said Potter, nee Weasley.
“You’re 10 minutes late!” Hermione said with a scowl.
“I had to talk Harry into staying put for the night,” Weasley replied. “He wanted to come and pick you up himself.” It was at this point that Weasley had noticed Draco’s presence. With an odd but fleeting glance of curiosity, she helped Hermione to her feet.
The two walked out after Hermione drunkenly settled the bill. Looking over her shoulder, Hermione cried out “See you tomorrow Lester!” and then she took a quick glance down and caught Malfoy’s eye.
She was already working on her third beer when Malfoy grabbed the stool next to her.
“So Granger you missed a hell of a day at work today!” he drawled as he ordered a firewhiskey.
She said nothing. It was not like her to miss work. She even went in once with a fever of 104 (and she still managed to break the headlines that day).
She figured she got a free pass today.
“Here anything more about your dear boyfriend and ‘Pasnip’?” he asked, trying to get a rise out of her.
“Not my boyfriend, and not ‘Parsnip’, she’s most definitely an ‘Onion’.” Hermione said with a small smirk – Ginger, honestly the possible fun she would have with that name.
He didn’t know why he was there. Something about the look she gave him last night made him return.
And she was glad he returned. Because so long as he sat next to her, she could waste her time thinking of something other than ‘the jerk’. In fact at the moment her mind was wondering to thoughts she never should have about a certain blond ferret.
But again, she got a free pass.
In fact, she had been toying with this idea since he had sat down yesterday.
Nothing would hurt ‘the jerk’ more than sleeping with the one man he would murder if given the opportunity.
She liked to think herself above such vulgar tactics. In fact sober she had completely rejected the idea. But here she was, on her fourth beer of the night, and Malfoy was starting to look more and more dashing.
Not that he wasn’t dashing before, she reasoned with herself (afterall she wouldn’t be doing this if he weren’t at least somewhat attractive – she did not fancy the idea of waking up next to someone only to discover she had a case of beer-goggles the night before).
He was tall-ish.
Well he wasn’t ever going to play professional basketball or anything, but he was taller than Hermione, which is all that counted in her mind.
He was handsome…ish. He had decent facial features. No one would ever mistake him for a model, his nose was slightly too pointy (and crooked from repeated punches to the nose). He eyes were a dull grey, nothing particularily striking about them, simply grey. He did however have luscious looking lips.
And he wore his wizard robes quite well. His shoulders were well defined (she was a sucker for a nice set of shoulders – something she had always found Ron lacked).
He was, of course, a massive prat who loved to get her riled up for no reason other than to kill some time. He was egotistical and believed himself to be god’s gift to women. He was whiny and self absorbed – and why did she want to sleep with him again?
She looked at the beer in her hand and remembered her predicament – oh yes, to severely piss Ron off.
They sat in pure silence for what felt like an hour (Lester at the end of the bar wondered if all the alcohol had made the pair mute).
She was waiting for him to make a move, he was working out a way of making the move without getting slapped in the process (hey she had just been cheated on, he did have SOME compassion – just not very much).
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted him open his mouth and promptly close it again.
It was unnerving to see Malfoy in a state (why did she want to sleep with him?).
He seemed un-composed and unsure of himself – two words she never thought could be used to describe Malfoy.
For his part Malfoy wondered when he had turned into a bloody ninny. He didn’t fancy getting slapped so asking Granger for a quick shag in the bathroom was out. And asking her if she wanted to “go back to his place” seemed far to cliché.
He, of course, blamed the vast amounts of alcohol he had consumed thus far.
Alcohol, he determined, was a very good social lubricant. It could be used tactfully in awkward conversations to use as a distraction (he’d many-a-times gotten sloshed because of bad date conversation and a bottle of booze).
However seated next to Granger was possibly the oddest thing that he’d done in a long time. The more she drank, the longer the silence stretched on. The longer the silence stretched on, the more he drank.
It was a rather vicious cycle.
As he contemplated this, he completely missed Hermione swivelling in her stool to face him.
It was perhaps the fifth beer she had consumed. Perhaps she really did have a touch of Gryffindor courage. But whatever it was, she decided that now was the moment she gets her revenge on Ron.
Placing both palms on his left thigh (out of necessity for balance more than anything) she looked him straight in the eye.
“Malfoy,” she started out drawing a breath. “Will you please have sex with me tonight?”
He didn’t even respond. He simply grabbed her wrist and apparated them to his place.
“You could have warned me, you know,” Hermione mumbled as she stumbled upon landing.
Her stomach lurched rather unpleasantly and she took a calming breath.
She grabbed whatever happened to be nearest for support. The chair under her fingertips felt soft, and she wished desperately to lie down on it all of a sudden.
She felt him come up behind her. She looked up, and realized that although Malfoy would never win any height competitions, he was indeed rather tall when he stood directly over her.
“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” he whispered in a voice Hermione didn’t realize he possessed.
His eyes were lustful, full of yearning that Hermione hadn’t seen on Ron in months.
She could feel the heat rush to the apex of her thighs.
Feeling bold once again she reached up and kissed him.
He had a small cut that was healing on the right side of him bottom lip. It felt slightly rough, but was barely noticeable after a moment of kissing.
He slipped his tongue skilfully between her teeth. As he rubbed his tongue up the side of hers, he felt himself lurch.
He swayed slightly on the spot and automatically clamped his mouth down, biting his tongue in the process.
“Ow! Fucking shit.” He cried as he released her mouth.
He hadn’t even realized he’d encircled his arms around her waist, until he felt himself pull her with him when he swayed once again.
She felt her body fall with his as he tumbled to the ground. He was clearly more drunk than she had originally anticipated.
When he crashed to the floor with a loud “thump”, she immediately broke out into a fit of giggles.
She hadn’t even registered their vertical positions.
He looked at her incredulously. The pain in his tongue was subsiding but instead of tending to his needs, she was laying on top of him laughing.
At him.
This was not acceptable.
In what he believed was a debonair move (in reality it was clumsy and uncoordinated, but neither would remember that the next morning) he tightened his grip around her waist and flipped her onto her back.
She squealed at the action, but once on her back gazed up at him with a small smile. A simple enough smile that instantly hardened him.
Her eyes were half lidded and her mouth slightly parted. Her dimples appeared ever so lightly across her cheeks.
He settled himself between her legs and rolled his hips gently into her crotch, brushing his hard cock against her. She responded with a growl and wrapped her legs around him.
He lowered his face to hers and feverishly kissed her. He kissed as though she were air and he were a dying man in space.
He kissed and tried to convey every burning desire he’d felt for her since they’d begun working together.
He kissed and wanted to make sure she remembered his name each time she kissed another man (he did not delude himself enough to believe there was something permanent in tonight).
For her part she poured every hated emotion towards Ron in each kiss. Each stroke of her tongue against Malfoy’s was a bitter reminder that her and the man she once loved would never be together forever.
But as his hands left her waist and travelled, ever so gently, up to her neck, enticing a shiver in her she hadn’t felt in ages, she slowly realized she would never have sex with Ron again.
And that thought excited her.
Here was a man who was clearly aroused by her – a man whom she found arousing.
And as his mouth left hers, she moaned in displeasure, but felt her breath hitch as he latched onto a sensitive spot behind her ear (one Ron was never able to find).
She closed her eyes contently as she slowly traced her fingers up and down his spine – running them over his delicious looking shoulders.
She hadn’t even realized his left hand had reached her breast until he gave a little squeeze.
Through the fabric of her shirt Hermione felt a tingle spread throughout her entire body.
She arched her back into his palm, and sighed contently. As his hand moved to the hem of her shirt, Hermione realized another sensation was taking over.
The world behind her eyes was starting to spin.
She opened them quickly focusing on the ceiling as she tried to calm herself down – not only from Malfoy’s wonderful ministrations, but now from the inevitable onslaught of drunk “spins”.
She closed her eyes tightly and prayed for the spins to stop, as Malfoy’s hand inched its way under her shirt. His hand felt wonderful against the skin of her stomach and she truly did not want Malfoy to stop.
But dear god the spins were getting bad.
As her world lurched from left to right in her mind, Malfoy relished the small love mark he’d left just below her left ear. Small enough to be tasteful, large enough to be notices, high enough so it can’t be covered up – perfect.
He noticed her eyes shut tightly and stopped himself cold – had he been so drunk as to not realize he’d been hurting her?
“Granger?” He mumbled removing his hand from under her shirt.
“Granger, are you ok?” The genuine concern in his voice shocked her slightly.
“I’m spinning.” She mumbled as she opened her eyes. They were unfocused and drunk looking.
“I’m sorry?” he questioned.
“The world. It’s spinning –“
“Well I knew my skills were admirable, but we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet,” he mumbled perplexed.
“Because of the alcohol you ponce!”
Realization suddenly dawned on him.
“-Oh.”
He carefully lifted himself off her, sitting on the ground to her right.
He gently grabbed her arm and helped her into a sitting position.
She closed her eyes and swayed softly on the spot.
“I’m sorry Malfoy, I can’t. I’m too drunk.”
Expecting him to kick her out of his place, he surprised her greatly by grabbing her arm again and helping her to her feet.
He stumbled slightly as he stood; wishing he’d had less to drink as well.
“Ok Granger. We sleep and then continue where we left off tomorrow morning,” he announced with a slur.
“You want me to sleep over?” she asked quietly as she leaned into him.
“Well, I can’t exactly take you home myself in this state. And I do expect proper compensation tomorrow morning,” he chuckled as he led her to the bedroom of his flat.
She wrapped her arm around his waist and mumbled something about slags never spending the night.
“But you, Granger, are anything but a slag,” he said they stumbled ungracefully into bed. She contently closed her eyes. She suffered those few moments of a spinning world before a drunken induced sleep overtook her.
His plans to freshen up before bed failed as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He too suffered the brief spins before allowing sleep to take him.
He hadn’t even realized his arm was still draped around her waist.
A/N - Next chapter = more smut. And I couldn't figure out how to italicize the firecal conversation - hope there was no confusion.
Anyone catch the jab at famous people naming their kids silly names?
A/N2 - I tried to fix a couple spelling errors I noticed. Part two will be loaded by the weekend.
*Chapter 2*:
Hermione’s head hurt.
Oh god did it ever hurt.
Her mouth was parched. Her tongue felt like sandpaper.
But her head hurt far too much to move.
Hang-overs suck!
So she did the only sane thing she could think off, she ignored it all and went back to sleep.
She didn’t even bother paying attention to the fact that she was curled neatly under the arm of someone – or that she was drooling on that someone’s shirt.
Draco felt like a ton of bricks had hit him in the gut. His stomach was simply in pain.
And his mouth was parched. His throat felt coarse enough to grate cheese on.
But dammit his stomach just hurt too much for him to move – if he did, he might vomit.
As quickly as he woke up, Draco had passed out again. Never noticing the way he hugged the foreign body next too him closer each time she took a breath.
Hermione woke up with a mild headache.
In the moments before realization hit her, Hermione felt nothing out of place with the situation she was in – in fact, she was rather content lying right where she was.
But as she lay there, memories from the night before began to flood her mind.
A drunk proposition – a kiss – a spinning world.
She didn’t dare open take a peak – she feared that her comfortably pillow would indeed turn out to be the man she did not want to see at that very moment.
Gryffindor bravery be damned – if she just stayed here long enough with her eyes squeezed tight she could eventually convince herself that this was all a dream.
A very erotic and enticing dream – but a dream none-the-less.
She heard a groan next to her.
Nope, not a dream.
Carefully opening one eye, she was met with a gently rising and falling chest covered in a familiar looking shirt.
Oh. And a small white spot of drool – well that’s lovely.
Her eyes travelled up the shirt to the lightly snoring face of Malfoy. He looked rather peaceful as he slept. Until one of his gentle snores turned into a violent snort – the kind that shook the whole body – the kind that generally woke a person up.
He mumbled incoherently as he raised his right arm to rub his nose.
She watched his eyes intently, praying they didn’t open.
Therefore she missed his left arm travelling across his body (subsequently dragging her closer to him) and cupping his crotch – the morning erection in his crotch to be more precise.
As her body was quickly pulled onto his, and her thigh rubbed against his hardened cock, she let out a small squeal of surprise.
His expression in that instant would have been comical to Hermione if she weren’t so mortified.
His eyes snapped open and widened. His mouth dropped down and hung there for an instant – all while his hips unconsciously thrust upon her.
She started open mouthed at the man laying half-under, half beside her.
And suddenly she found herself on the ground.
Malfoy had gotten up too quickly, and Hermione didn’t quite enjoy falling on her ass.
“Oh fucking bloody shit” she heard from atop the bed.
The mild throbbing in her head was growing. Suddenly from the top of the mattress a head poked out.
“Shit. Sorry Granger,” he mumbled as he surveyed her collapsed state on the floor.
Her hair was a tangled disaster, she had a small crust of left over drool on her right cheek, and her makeup was smudged under her eyes.
And dear-lord did she ever look shaggable.
His morning erection stiffened even further.
He simply stared at her for a minute, before realizing that he’d been staring at her for 59 seconds too long.
Tentatively he reached a hand towards her and helped her up.
“Thanks Malfoy,” she grumbled softly. Once standing, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself.
It seemed rather rude to simply leave. What would she say? ‘Uh, thanks for the almost drunken shag to almost help me get revenge on my ex. It was almost fantastic I’m sure – perhaps another time?’
No, that didn’t quite fit decorum.
She was fidgeting in place and to Draco, it looked rather adorable. Slightly innocent and prudish with a hint of valiant courage – she wasn’t going to meekly walk out of the awkward situation.
“There’s hang-over potion next in the top night stand,” he said, simply watching her. It took a moment before she snapped into reality. Her eyes re-focused on him, and a blush crept to her cheeks.
“Huh?”
“Hang-over potion – top drawer,” he indicated towards the stand.
Without a word, she moved to open it. Next to the hang-over potion was a box of magical condoms – meant to produce various magical sensation. Her blush deepened, as she thought dumbly about the notches on Malfoy’s bed post – more specifically, how she was almost one of them.
She took a big gulp and felt the headache that had been forming begin to subside quickly.
He coughed lightly next to her, and she noticed he also had extended his hand.
Silently passing the potion over, Hermione took the moment to categorize the room. It wasn’t the typical bachelor pad – not that Hermione had seen too many.
It was rather clean, with no dirty laundry hung over the desk chair. A black and white photo of a mountainous landscape, Hermione assumed somewhere from Europe.
The furniture all matched. All made of dark, almost black wood. But the walls were painted a light shade of green, and the sheets matched.
As she examined the room, he examined her.
She really had grown into a beautiful witch.
He’d only been able to examine her briefly the night before, but the feel of her body told him she had the curves. She was by no means a tiny person. Her hips were widespread, but her breast matched them perfectly. Her waist, however, was tiny and fit. Her lips were a little thin, her nose a little smooshed, but her eyes shone and her skin was flawless.
Her hair was a natural disaster (should have been reclassified as the eighth wonder of the world) but it was firery – just like her – she was perfect.
As his thought wandered to remembering the feel of her supple breast in his hand the night before, the sheets covering him began to tent noticeably.
When she met his eye, she was caught in his intense gaze.
She could, once again, feel the heat pooling at her thighs – the slow burning desire that needed to be quenched.
Her eyes slipped down his form. His shirt was hugging his body tightly and she could see the defined muscles in his abdomen.
Her eyes landed on the peak currently at his thigh.
Her mouth watered. Her lips went dry – the whole kit-and-caboodle.
He’d noticed (what man wouldn’t notice a luscious women staring at his erection as though she was stuck in the desert and his penis was the only source of fluids – now that was a naughty fantasy he wouldn’t mind trying!)
She was breaking under his intense gaze.
She had to get out.
“Malfoy I sho-“
He cut her off with a bruising kiss.
She didn’t even pretend to protest – she just melted.
He pulled her back onto the bed gently, while his mouth savagely attacked hers. Thrusting in and out, placing more pressure and teasing by pulling it away.
Her legs settled on either side of his as his hands ran up and down her back.
For her part, Hermione was having difficulty thinking while his hands wandered her body. She drove her hands into his hair and was simply running them through his silky softness.
Her hips were gently rocking onto of his jeans and he couldn’t suppress the moan.
This is what he loved most about sex (well maybe second most), the anticipation of the removal of clothes, the hands over the body, the lips in intimate places, the ultimate thrust – the anticipation could draw him to his knees with pleasure.
As he moved his mouth gently away from hers, finding that spot just above her ear. He figured last night’s mark deserved a twin.
As he set to work on her neck, he barely registered her hands taking on a life of their own.
They travelled down from his hair and grasped his shirt hem lightly. Her fingers splayed across his sides and sent a shiver up his back. She had a gentle touch, almost too soft, almost ticklish – almost – instead her hand moving gently up and down his side, abdomen, upper leg, buttocks – it burned him up from the inside. He abandoned the spot above her neck and crushed her mouth with another kiss. His need was growing painful, and his boxers – his loose fitting boxers – were becoming too tight. And then she grasped him – and he almost lost it.
‘Snape….the greasy old bastard flying on a broom’ he thought. Anything to calm himself down. ‘Potions homework, lab explosions, late night detentions…. Late night detentions with Hermione. As she slowly rubbed-‘
“Oh bugger!” he mumbled into her mouth.
She paused her ministrations on his member long enough to pull away slightly and look him in the eye.
“What?”
“Nothing…it was nothing…” he said quickly. And then he looked at her. Her hair was splayed across the bed, and her eyes were dark with lust and her lips were swollen and red. “Cor, you’re beautiful.”
And she smiled.
And for the second time in two days, her smile almost undid him.
And he realized that once…once couldn’t be enough.
Her hand had resumed movement, but he reached between them and grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“I…I can’t.”
She looked at him with questions in her eyes. As realization started to dawn on her, the humiliation began to weigh on her.
Here was Draco Malfoy, scum of the earth, refusing her, when she was openly giving herself to him.
This had started as revenge…but now – the way he had looked at her… it was so much more.
She would not cry. He didn’t want her…that was fine…she would not cry!
Shoving his shoulder gently, she pushed him off of her.
“I’m not the one with a rock hard penis. But ok, if you can’t, you can’t!” she mumbled as she began to sit up. “It’s your loss. I’m pretty damn good in bed, mind blowing in fact!” she hoped that didn’t sound desperate.
She couldn’t look him in the eyes, as she was positive her face was beet-red.
“Hermione wait,” he grabbed her wrist again.
“Please let go of me. You were revenge. Plain and simple,” she tried to shake her wrist free. “I don’t need your pity.”
He didn’t know what to do.
He gave her arm a yank and brought her back down to the bed, and before she could get up, rolled back on top of her.
“Malfoy, get off me!” she squealed. She squirmed underneath him.
“When you walk past my desk in the mornings, with your notebook sticking out your back pocket, I get so fucking hard, I usually skip my morning meetings.”
He ground his erection into her again to prove his point.
“When you prance past me in the lunch room and we exchange insults, I usually have to go wank in the bathroom before I can get back to work.”
She had stopped squirming.
“At first I thought I just wanted to bang the fuck out of you. But then I started noticing things. I hate noticing things. It’s distracting and I shouldn’t be noticing things about you.
“But there it was. I’d notice the ink stain on your fingertips. And the mole at the base of your neck. Or how you always put your sugar in your coffee first, and then your milk. Or that you alphabetize your books in your office. Or that when you weren’t getting any from Ron you’d look at me like your looking at me now – and I would dare to hope, usually for a moment or less, that you could possibly want me too. I thought…” he paused trying to figure out his next words. “I thought I could do this with you…I thought I could just be your revenge. I thought I’d be OK with it. But then you smile at me and … and I realized I can’t. Somewhere along the way I had…”
She held her breath as he paused again. Hoping he wasn’t about to say what she thought he was going to say. She had just fallen out of love. She couldn’t handle someone else loving her just yet….
“Somewhere along the way I had realized I…sort of…fancied you…more than I should have.”
He fancied her? That was it?
Ok so maybe she didn’t want him to love her. But still…all he did was fancy? What was he, back at Hogwarts?
“I’m sorry you …fancy me?”
He blushed…actually blushed.
“Well don’t make it sound like I’m some sort nanny-boy. I realized I was more than just lusting over you,” he said, now not wanting to meet her gaze.
“So you more than just lust after me?”
“Well… yes, I suppose.”
And her reaction was anything but what he expected. She laughed.
Hard.
As in belly-shaking, eyes leaking, can’t breath kind of laugh.
He was offended.
Truly offended. He started to climb off her but she circled her arms around his back and her legs around his waist, trapping him against her.
As she caught her breath, she exclaimed “Draco you are a ponce!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re a ponce!”
“Well you’re insufferable!” he retaliated.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked, finally meeting his stare.
“I have no bloody idea. I’ve never really more than lusted after a person before.”
And she giggled again.
“Are you thinking of awkwardly dating, and the whole shebang?” she asked.
“Well I was thinking more of doing this-“ and he thrust his cock against her again “on a more frequent basis. But if to do that, you would want to date…then I would find that acceptable.”
He lowered his face to hers and once again captured her lips.
She couldn’t take the foreplay any longer. She reached between them and pulled down his boxers, while fumbled with her pants.
He barely pushed them to her knees when he thrust inside her. He buried his face in her neck and mumbled incoherently “ so tight…so hot…so perfect…” over and over.
He thrust over and over, angling himself to brush against her clit as he did. He could hear her moaning and snaked his hand between them to rub her clit more ferociously.
She hadn’t been satisfied in months – maybe years – so it didn’t take much for her orgasm to hit. He could feel her walls tightening around him as she arched off the bed.
Her toes curled as she let out a soft scream. And he watched her as she rode out her orgasm; her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her lips parted in a now silent ‘O.’
And when she came down…she looked at him through hooded eyes and smiled…and that was, again, his undoing.
His thrust became erratic and within seconds he came.
She stroked his back, with that gentle touch, after he’d collapsed on her.
They basked in the afterglow, exchanging those subtle sweet kisses and caresses, neither wanting to move.
“So does this mean for another round I’m actually going to have to take you on a date?” he mumbled into her neck.
“Yup.”
He began to role off her, but she tightened her hold.
“Oh I meant another round any other day…today you get a free pass…”
He looked at her and cocked his eyebrow.
“..free pass? An all day free pass?”
“Something like that,” she giggled.
“Before we do this, do you have any feelings left for the weasel?” he asked seriously.
“Ron was my first love,” she replied truthfully. “But I haven’t loved him in a while,” she paused as she weighed her words. “What he did to me was…it really hurt me. Even if I didn’t love him. It really hurt me. It’s going to take me some time to get over that.”
He nodded.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said very quietly, lowering her gaze to the tip of his nose.
“I can’t promise. But I’ll try,” he said, cupping her chin and tipping it upwards. “And I can certainly promise to never sleep with anyone named after a herb!”
“Or a spice!” she added with a chuckle.
“Nutmeg really is an unfortunate name.”
A/N - ta da...There's a small Grey's anatomy reference in there. If this got a little heavy towards the end it's because of Grey's.
Hope you enjoyed!