Chapter Text
She sat tapping her nails on the grungy surface of the bar, her head full of stress. Work wasn’t going the way she had hoped or planned. Hermione had worked in the Department of International Magical Co-operation for almost seven years, and each time she tried to pass a bill she had worked religiously on, it was shot down, and she’d be back to the drawing board.
The Ministry preached progression yet showed none.
It was a Thursday night. She had come directly to the Leaky Cauldron, parked herself on a bar stool, and began downing glasses of Sauvignon Blanc. She picked at the skin on her cuticles, internally thinking of vexing comebacks to her infuriating coworker, Cormac McLaggen, who seemed to have every bill he proposed passed. He was probably out right now at that damned wizards-only gentleman’s club he and the rest of the Wizengamot were members of —while she sat here fighting his imaginary self in her brain, fermented grapes running ragged through her empty stomach.
She was putting everything into her work—her entire life, her entire existence—to help make the magical world on par with the ever-changing Muggle one. Countless relationships had suffered because of her dedication. Ron and she had ended only six months after leaving Hogwarts; the strain of his Auror hours and her endless pursuit of justice had deteriorated whatever momentum they had. Just last year, she had started dating Dean Thomas. It was hot and heavy at first, but it fizzled out as she stayed at her desk past 8 PM each night. Ginny and Harry were new parents, and although she loved her nieces and nephews, going to Grimmauld Place to complain about work while toddlers screamed didn’t seem like the right place to air her frustrations.
So, she sat and choked her anger down.
"‘nother one, Ms. Granger?" Tom the barkeep asked politely.
She nodded as she downed the last ounce of white wine.
"You can put Granger's tab on mine, and maybe throw in a basket of bread. Soak up some of that booze," came the voice that instantly made Hermione roll her eyes. She turned to see the smoky gray eyes of Draco Malfoy.
Perfectly fucking posh.
She saw Malfoy almost twice a week at the Ministry, though she had no idea what he actually did besides schmooze Ministry officials, talk loudly and arrogantly, look infuriatingly handsome and fit, and stare at her until she felt herself wanting to wriggle out of her skin.
“I don’t need bread.” She replied quickly.
“I’ve watched you down six glasses in the past hour and a half, and I’m positive I saw you in your office at noon, so I can only assume you didn’t have any lunch. Unless you want to pass out on this filthy floor, I suggest you have a piece of bread,” Draco quipped, seating himself on the empty stool next to her.
She groaned. “And I’m positive that Tom has this floor cleaned twice a day,” she smiled at Tom, who blushed guiltily as he handed her the next glass and slid Malfoy a glass of what looked like Firewhiskey.
“The day he has this floor cleaned even once a day is the day I become Minister of Magic. So I can’t bloody well see that happening,” Draco quipped with a smirk, taking a swig of his drink and pushing his other large hand through his blonde hair, letting a piece fall back over his forehead.
“Why are you sitting with me?” Hermione asked, annoyed.
“Why are you sitting here drinking alone?” he countered.
“I could ask you the same thing. I don’t see a gaggle of blond socialites following you. I thought that was your thing,” she snapped. She just wanted to be left alone; she didn’t want to be Malfoy’s source of entertainment or pity—or whatever this was.
“Gaggle?” Malfoy almost snorted with laughter.
“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes.
“I just happen to have friends, Granger—something you clearly don’t have,” he retorted. It wasn’t said with malice, just a sharp direction, but it still stung.
“You must love hearing the sound of your own voice. Do these ‘friends’ ever get a chance to say anything? Anytime you’re at the Ministry, I can hear your voice echoing down the hallway—always confident, always arrogant. And now, here you are, clearly bothering me and interrupting my evening with your incessant talking. So, my question is: do you ever just shut the fuck up?” she hissed back at the sting he had just unleashed upon her.
She was already in a foul mood, drinking alone and loathing the solitary life she had crafted for herself, so she didn’t need to be lectured by Draco fucking Malfoy on maintaining friendships.
Her eyes met his, widening in surprise.
His grin twisted into a maniacal one as if he were delightfully caught off guard. He dragged his thumb over his pursed lips as if considering a retort.
“You want me to shut up?” he asked with a breathy, low laugh, inching closer to her. His legs were spread wide, his feet planted firmly on the ground, trapping her between the bar and his body.
“Please,” she replied, although she was feeling deliciously suffocated by his closeness. His cologne wafted into her nostrils, and she found herself breathing harder to absorb the leathery scent.
"Then sit on my face,"
Draco said it in the self-important tone he always used with his colleagues as if it were a totally normal suggestion about a problem.
“What?” She spun around, almost in disbelief, as if the alcohol had made her hard of hearing.
“If you want me to shut up so badly, then why not come back to my flat and sit on my face? I promise the only sounds you’ll hear are your own,” he continued, half his smirk lifting the right side of his cheek, his tongue pressing against the back of his canines.
She stared, her pupils moving back and forth, meeting his gaze. She watched that devilish tongue dart from his teeth back to the roof of his mouth.
She felt a hot stab in her belly as she eyed him, deciphering what he truly meant.
She wanted to call his bluff.
This is what men like Malfoy did: they teased, they poked, they prodded. But they never truly paid attention to her; they just wanted to provoke the lioness, as if they got off on it. Dean had, and she was positive Malfoy wanted to as well.
But Hermione wasn’t in the fucking mood for his shit tonight.
"And why do you think I’d want to do that?" she said dully as if his question hadn’t stirred her.
"I'll put it to you in a proposal format since you seem familiar with those," Draco replied smoothly. "I think you’re fit as fuck, I’ve never shagged a Muggleborn before, and I have a massive cock….. I just know you have the tightest pussy, and I’d love nothing more than to test if you can take me" He closed the gap between them, whispering words that sent a pulse between her thighs, making her tighten them.
She tried to remain composed, but his overtly confident offer and his annoying hotness were itching under her skin.
Still, she wanted to call his bluff.
Draco wanted her to storm away, to get up and leave, to maintain his persona of being an intolerable womanizing ass and her the overworked and undersexed prude.
She screeched her barstool back and stood, her legs wobbly beneath her. Flipping her curls toward where he sat, she took a step toward the doorway.
"Gran—" he began, cueing the apology he no doubt had prepared for this reaction.
"Well, are you coming or not?" she rounded, feeling smugness run through her veins as his pupils widened in surprise and his eyebrows raised in confusion.
There were a few moments of silence as if he were waiting for her to pull the rug out from beneath him or slap him for his overstep.
"Are you going to sit there and look stupid, or show me to your flat? I thought I was about to be shagged." She sneered, feeling a level of control she hadn’t felt in years. It was sobering her faster than any potion, charm, or coffee ever could.
"Ah, yeah, fuck yeah." Draco stood rather quickly, rather desperately too, Hermione noted, as he straightened his robes. She didn’t think she had ever seen him look so disoriented, and it drove another cadence downward.
She just looked at him, bit down on her bottom lip, and lifted her eyebrows in agreement.
Draco wrapped one arm lightly around her waist and walked her toward the back alley, covertly enough not to raise any awareness of the drunken witches and wizards in the booths around them.
The pounding adrenaline was coursing through her, and undoubtedly him, as she watched his jugular pulse from her vantage point a foot lower than him, as he guided her through the door.
Once she had passed the wooden threshold, the door slammed shut, and the moon rose in the sky. The crisp, cold air hit her lungs.
Draco looked down at her as if he was about to speak, but she grabbed the front collar of his robes and pulled him down to meet her muzzle, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking gently. He groaned in agreement and wrapped one hand around her hips, moving the other toward her jeans.
Unbuttoning the top button and shoving his hand down the fabric separating her knickers from her flesh, his fingers just touching the wetness beginning to pool. Hermione felt her head spark at the sensation.
“You’re going to like this,” Draco grunted, pulling away as he steadied two of his fingers above her clit.
Then, he twisted on the spot.
The sensory experience in her trousers was exquisite as Draco’s and her body curled together in the force of the Apparition. The pressure of his hands, massaging involuntarily as they were battered through space and time, and the compression of the muscles had her on the verge of cumming in the seconds they were bound together by the spell.
As soon as her feet hit the solid marble floor, she gasped for air as the brink of release slipped away, the thumping on her clit devastating.
Draco’s hands grasped her head, and he dove back in for a punishing kiss that was sure to bruise her lips. His fingers, which had just been inside her, were now twisting in her curls.
Hermione pulled away slightly, her head still in a tailspin. What the fuck was she doing here?
She had meant to call his bluff, not fall prey to his trap. But the hunger in his touch, in his kiss, gave her an unwavering sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t getting in any other aspect of her life, and she couldn’t tear herself away now.
“Malfoy,” she began, her breath ripping from his mouth.
“Don’t tell me to stop now, Merlin, don’t change your mind,” he said, almost pleading. It stoked a flame in Hermione’s core to see Draco Malfoy so lost, the opposite of his usual overly haughty self.
“No, I wasn’t…. Where do you want me?” she questioned, looking around the flat for the first time. It was huge and regal, with marble floors and columns. They were on the ground floor, and she could see a small terrace garden in the back. It looked like Muggle London, perhaps Knightsbridge or Kensington; she couldn’t be sure.
“Oh fuck, everywhere,” Draco groaned.
She looked back up into his eyes, swirling with charcoal black, and his hair now hung messily over his face.
“Why do you live here?” she asked, almost forgetting the fact that she could feel the erection in Draco’s pants now throbbing against her hip. He wasn’t lying about the massive part, and he was only continuing to grow.
“Because it’s nice,” he said quickly, as his hands wrapped around her waist. Without another word, he hoisted her up, and Hermione voluntarily wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Yes, but it’s Muggle London,” she continued as Draco began to walk with her across the long foyer, not breaking a sweat, which again was annoyingly hot and infuriating all at once. The way he lifted her with such ease made her tighten her grip around his broad, muscular shoulders.
“They don’t have flats like this in Diagon Alley, and I haven’t lived at the Manor in years,” Draco added casually as he tried to pepper small kisses on her nape. Hermione’s hands latched around his neck in response, feeling the strength beneath her fingers.
She rolled her head back as the heat from his breath caressed her ear, and he nipped at the bottom of her lobe. Two white French doors opened as they turned down another hallway.
“If I only get this one chance to have you, it’s going to be on my bed,” Draco said in a strangled voice as if he had internally battled about where he was going to shag her.
Hermione’s back hit a soft mattress and a pillowy down duvet, holding her still he crawled onto her. His mouth returned to hers, shutting off the swirling thoughts of being pushed into Draco Malfoy’s bed in his posh muggle London flat.
The fact that he seemed to be unraveling at just the thought of fucking her made her even more soaked than she already was.
Hermione didn’t understand. Just half an hour ago, his voice had been an irritation, but now she wanted his melodic words replaying in her mind as he whispered filthy sentences into her ear, all while her legs were wrapped around his firm torso.
But she couldn’t let him know that.
She wanted to be in control, she wasn’t any other day. Not at work, not in her personal life, but she could be in control now, with him.
“It’s time I shut you up, isn’t it?” Hermione purred, thrusting her pelvis upwards to roll over his hardened cock. She watched as his eyes rolled back momentarily and his jaw went slack. The muscles in his forearms trembled as he rolled onto his back, granting her the position that he had promised.
Hermione moved and stood at the edge of his bed, barely taking in the surroundings. The room smelled of his cologne, dark wood accents, immaculate wardrobe and tailored suits, plush bedding, and pillows.
Locking eyes with him, Draco glowered as she pulled off her blouse, unsnapped her bra, and let her breasts bounce with the sudden lack of support.
“Fuck,” he choked on his gulp.
She was determined to leave him quivering.
She pulled down her already half-undone trousers, standing in front of him in her soaked-through knickers. His heavily lidded eyes stared at the discolored fabric and he licked his lips.
“Take them off,” he growled, and Hermione nodded in agreement.
She hooked her thumbs in the loops of her thong straps and delicately tried to pull them down. The wetness of the fabric clung to her cunt for a moment longer before gravity finally pulled them apart.
“Merlin, that’s hot,” Draco moaned as the fabric tore off her and dropped to the floor. She moved both legs and crawled toward where he lay.
“You should take this off unless you want me to drench it.” She allowed herself to moan as she began to straddle his chest, the grip of his fingers on her thighs becoming painfully intense.
“I don’t care about this shirt… Come up here so I can taste your cunt, Granger.”
Draco pulled at her thighs, struggling to bring her core closer to his lips. But an even fiercer fantasy took hold in her mind.
She positioned herself over him, just enough to still see the grey sparkling in his eyes and the light beads of perspiration on his brow. She sank down slightly and adjusted her position so that her bum rested on his chest, dominating his moments, as his tongue flicked out frantically to taste the arousal spreading across her inner thighs.
“Mead….” He mumbled. “Soon you’ll taste like my cum,” The soothing sensation of his lick sent shivers through her system.
“We’re going to do this my way,” she began, and she saw the gleam of danger in his eyes as he was about to protest. “I’m going to turn around and take your cock in my mouth, and you’ll keep eating my pussy.”
The look in his eye now turned to one of sheer lust, and Hermione felt the familiar puddle of lechery form in her pelvis. She twisted herself, placing one delicate leg over the other.
“So fucking dirty, Granger… fuck,” he groaned heavily as she positioned herself, bending over him. Her body leaned down toward the throbbing heat of his cock still caged behind the zipper of his trousers, desperate to be unleashed, with her pussy and arse directly over his face.
Stretching forward, the pull on her back muscles tingled her spine, enhancing the sensation of his lips trailing up her legs. She massaged both hands over his erection, and as soon as she pressed down to create deeper friction, Draco buried his face into her cunt. The pleasure ripped through her so intensely that she let out an aching scream.
“Draco….”
The sound of his name only strengthened the work he was putting in with his mouth. Hermione was already on the brink of cumming, and she hadn’t even pulled out his cock yet. Her brain was so overloaded with pleasure that she was seeing stars.
But she couldn’t lose control now. She couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of wearing her down to a whimpering mess before he had even fucked her with something solid— the solid that was between his legs.
With all her energy, she focused on rolling down the hem of his trousers and struggled to get his briefs over the bulge that was straining against them. It took some effort, and she was certain it was because he was entirely within his right to be as cocky as he was—he was huge. The length wasn’t overly long, but the girth was impressive, and the head would surely stretch her to the brink of what she had ever experienced before.
Hermione leaned deeper, her tongue dancing over the precum at the tip of his cock. Draco rutted up his hips, and she felt his entire tongue jerk up into her cunt, stifling a moan in his chest. His moans were intoxicating, more so than the cheap wine at The Leaky. She had never had any issues taking a man to the back of her throat, but she knew that unless she could unhinge her jaw, she’d never be able to take him to his bollocks.
But Hermione Granger did love to challenge herself.
The flutter in her stomach intensified as she licked up his shaft. Every inch of her body felt alive, the effects of alcohol coursing through her veins. The warm, leathery scent mixed with hints of spice enveloped her senses as she brushed her fingers over his base.
She imagined what he would feel like inside her, as she stroked him up and down; drooling down onto him.
Though she needed to be properly warmed up, Draco's fervent attention behind her made it clear he was willing to do whatever it took to bury himself between her legs.
Hermione let her mouth wrap around the tip, placing both hands at his anchor and slowly taking him deeper into her throat. Draco thrust upward greedily, his moans vibrating through her. She was so soaked that the vibrations sounded more like an underwater gargle.
Draco sucked hard on her clit, his hands moving to spread her ass wider than she had ever allowed. Usually, she would have felt a twinge of embarrassment, but with his cock hitting her gag reflex, she could hear herself choking as Draco gave her a long, steady lick from hole to hole.
She melted into him, her jaw relaxing as she took him to the hilt, surprising herself with how much of his cock she was managing to handle.
“You fucking goddess, bloody hell… you are amazing,” Draco grunted as he finally pulled his face from her dripping wet core.
Hearing Draco Malfoy moan obscenities and praise while drowning in her was a form of therapy Hermione hadn’t realized she needed, healing wounds she hadn’t even known were there.
“I need to fuck you,” Draco growled, grabbing at her thighs and flipping her over—reminding her that he had only allowed her control, and at any time he could take it back.
Draco moved to his knees, looming over her. His face was a mess, with liquid smeared across his cheeks and lips, his hair tousled. He shed the remainder of his trousers, which had bunched around his ankles. His shirt was ruined, soaked through down to his collar. He unbuttoned it with one hand and roughly knocked her knees apart with the other, re-exposing her swollen cunt.
The sight of the naked man now kneeling over her was a type of perfection that she really didn’t want to have to associate with Malfoy, but fuck…..he was pure sex.
Every inch of his body was sculpted; dark tattoos sleeved on his arms. She had never noticed before, as he was always in a suit, but now she saw a dragon’s head wrapped around his ribs and a delicate silver chain around his neck.
She suddenly craved the feel of that chain hitting the bottom of her chin as he thrust into her.
“Accio Elixir,” Draco muttered, and a small vial shot out from one of the deep mahogany drawers, filled with an oily, translucent liquid.
“Elixir?” she questioned breathlessly.
“Intensity Elixir. I make it myself,” Draco said, barely registering her question as he uncorked the vial with his teeth, and began to emulsify the oil between his thumbs.
“Intensity Elixir? Is that Ministry-approved, Malfoy?” she asked, her tone sharp.
He laughed a throaty laugh. “No………but don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t be using this on that beautiful pussy of yours unless I knew it worked and wasn’t harmful.”
The way he said “baby” stirred something uneasy within her, but she chalked it up to Malfoy being cunt drunk; he couldn’t possibly have meant it seriously.
“I’m not the first witch who’s tried it, then?” she added slyly.
“I’m no saint, Granger…but you might just be the damned last.” He pushed forward; sinking his thumb into her clit where the oil took hold of every nerve ending in her body, heightening her stimulation to an almost unbearable level.
“Ahhhh… ohmyfuckinggod…” she wailed, her voice trembling as her body convulsed, and Hermione was engulfed by an intense wave of pleasure and pain that had melded into a single, all-consuming force, each pulse of her heartbeat amplifying the electrifying mix of euphoria and discomfort.
“I’m going to ease you into it, okay, baby? It’s a lot at first… I know. But it’s going to help when I put my cock inside you,” Draco said in a calming, soothing voice.
Hermione continued to shake as he gently rolled his thumb over her clit, his touch so soft it eased the quaking inside her. All she could do was let out a small, breathless purr, a tear of want slipped from her eye. He had tamed the lion inside her, and she hated him for it.
“I knew this pussy was going to be fucking tight,” Draco grunted in a smug tone as he aligned himself with her weeping cunt, soaking his bedding straight through to the luxurious down.
Hermione involuntarily arched her back into him, guiding his thick head to her entrance.
Draco looked down with a smirk, and Hermione reached toward him, her hand stroking him up and down. Her eyes locked onto his, heavy-lidded and rolling back as his mouth opened in a gape. “Granger…” he moaned as her hand stroked him faster, bringing his tip to the peak of her wetness.
Draco grasped her legs firmly, lifting them and resting them on his shoulders. With deliberate care, he spread her further apart. Positioned himself and slowly eased the head of his cock into her.
“Fuck… so tight, baby… I know you can do it,” he panted as Hermione felt another electric jolt shock her frame, the Elixir working its magic. The overwhelming stretching sensation that should have been there was instead replaced by a heightened sense of craving.
“All the way… fill me… all the way,” she begged.
His jaw tightened with some restraint as he penetrated a little deeper, letting out another strangled word.
“Nrgh..I don’t want to hurt you,” he pleaded desperately, as she rocked her hips, inching his resolve loose.
“You won’t, Draco... you feel so good… please… all of you,” she urged, knowing she had given up control as soon as she let him rub her down with some homemade hormonal enhancement.
He was sinking to his hilt. She looked down, watching in awe as Draco struggled, his chest rising in ragged strained breaths, his eyes locked on the sight of his cock sinking into her stretched cunt.
“Fuck…this is the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had,” Draco grunted as he pulled back out of her, then watched himself plunge back in.
“Draco,” she wheezed, his compliment embedding itself in her mind as all she could focus on was the decadent fullness of him.
He felt incredible, indescribable, incomparable to anything she had experienced before. Desire burned within her, intensified by the intoxicating scent of his sweat and the agonizingly rigid movements inside her. The way his body pressed against hers, his strength, and his eager tone only made her want him more.
Draco’s thrusts quickened, his grip tightening under her calf as he pounded deeper into her. One hand moved to her breasts, massaging and cupping her bouncing tits.
“I need to see how far you can take it, baby, how much I can stretch you,” Draco added finally giving Hermione the unrelenting pressure she had been desperate for.
Her body rattled, and Draco’s girth filled every fraction of her. His twitching deltoids and hands felt amazing on her delicate body as he roughly grabbed at her with starving want, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back and fixed on her.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Draco gritted as his thrust became more demanding.
“Don’t stop,” She moaned as he hit the spot she needed to crumble. Draco removed Hermione’s legs from his shoulders, grabbed her hips, and with a swift, powerful movement, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled her on top of him.
Finally, she felt a pang of pain; the angle was so deep. She began to cautiously ride on top of his cock, moving her hips up and down, sliding on his shaft as he matched her movements, his hand grasping the back of her head, tangling in her curls.
“Do you like that? Do you like the feel of my cock buried inside you?…. I always hoped you were a little slut Granger.” he whispered as she bounced up and down, her eyes rolling back into her skull as he pulled harshly on her hair.
“You feel so fucking good,” Hermione breathed as she rode him. Her words of encouragement drove Draco more rapidly into her as she kept trying to steady herself on him.
“Draco...” she whined, digging her nails into his shoulders, feeling her body about to be overtaken by an earth-shattering orgasm.
Draco's groan was akin to a snarl, driving into her with relentless force, his movements becoming more chaotic —filling her completely until she was on the brink of bursting.
“Cum for me, baby, clench on my cock... fuck, you’re so tight, nowhere to squeeze but me…… and it’s so good... you’re doing so good..” His words were strung together by incoherent rasps as Hermione climaxed, intensified by the Elixir, he had her body rippling onto his. Her legs shook, screams ripped out of her throat, barely noticed as strong arms held her together.
Hermione’s head became light and blank. Unraveling everything she had been holding for days. Anger, resentment, fear, loneliness—it all came apart as she exploded, hitting her apex. She rocked lifelessly on him as he held her tight.
“Fucking hell, Hermione...” Draco choked with a thick voice as she felt the final aching throbs of his cock emptying inside her.
Hermione re-entered her body, looking down with strenuous breaths. She was dripping with sweat, her pussy stuffed full of his cum and cock, and it was running out between where their bodies connected.
She tried to think, tried to move, but she was boneless. The only perception was a heightened sense of exhaustion and the squeeze of his arms fastened around her.
Even in her sedated state, she felt herself hitting the softness of the bedding below before her world went dark.