Work Text:
There was a lot to be said for working at the Ministry. Draco Malfoy, once marked as the youngest Death Eater, now proudly wore the Auror Robes he once thought impossible and out of reach. Another perk? Annoying the fuck out of a certain bushy haired swot named Hermione Granger.
Draco relished the days he caught her in his grasp, ensnaring her in a battle of wits and hate as he fucked her silly. He loved the way her hair grew three sizes, and her magic crackled around her, charging the air with an electric buzz before she’d angrily smash her lips to his.
It was these many sparring sessions, these years of instances, that had culminated into his present day addiction. Her body, pinned beneath his, thighs trembling around his hips, her voice breaking on his name as though it had always been inevitable. All that fire, all that defiance, and now she routinely let him put it to better use, filling her up until there was no space for anything but him. And Merlin help him, Draco fucking loved it.
He loved the primal, ruinous thrill of owning her like this, of fucking Hermione Granger so deep he swore he could brand her from the inside out. It was supposed to be hate, it was supposed to be a release of years of tension, but the filthy satisfaction he got from spilling into her, from filling her until he could feel his spend leaking back onto his cock, was nothing short of obsession.
Draco Malfoy, of all people, couldn’t get enough of pumping her full and watching her shudder when he told her to hold it in and leave no drop spilled, until he was sure it’d take. And to his utter surprise, Hermione Granger would always reply the same way.
I want you to fuck a baby into me.
The day Draco realized their kinky commonality; was the day Draco became a one woman man.
Hermione Granger had never thought herself desperate. She’d had no shortage of suitors since her status as Golden Girl War Heroine and breakup with Ron Weasley. But Hermione could not deny that a very grown up, very handsome blonde haired wizard had started occupying a majority of her thoughts.
She wasn’t sure when it’d happened, or how, but the fact of the matter was, that their years at Hogwarts were long over, and, even she could admit there was no reason for them to still be at odds with each other. Which is how, everyday for the past year, her lunch breaks had become preoccupied with special appointments.
“Granger.”
That familiar low timber sent tingles down her spine, her head coming up to meet the grey eyes of a certain Pureblood Wizard. Her eyebrow arched as she took in his appearance, surmising that he’d just gotten back from assignment, as his full Auror regalia suited him today.
“Malfoy.”
Draco prowled towards her desk with the same confidence he’d always had since their school days. He twirled her chair around so that it would face him, placing his hands on the back of the chair and its armrest, bending over so that his face met hers a hair's breath away.
“Did my pretty little cumslut miss me while I was away?”
Hermione bit her lip, thighs clenching at his words. It equally pleased her and infuriated her that he’d always known exactly what to do and say to get her skirt hiked up and her knickers pulled down. He’d been gone for three weeks, and, while they hadn’t officially claimed exclusivity, somehow it had become a secret rule to her.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” she muttered, even as her body leaned toward him, open and inviting.
His grin was all sharp edges and sin.
“Then why are your thighs pressed so tight together?” His eyes dipped low just for a moment, before they came back to rest on her rosy, parted lips. “Tell me Granger, did you let anyone else fill this greedy little cunt while I was gone?”
Her breath caught, cheeks flushed.
“No,” she whispered before she could stop herself. “No one.”
Draco grinned in satisfaction, his cock hardening at the omission. There were few things in life that could make Draco Malfoy excited. Hearing he owned Granger’s cunt was one of them.
“Does my good girl want a reward for waiting so long?” Draco crooned, dragging his fingers down the curve of her neck and collarbone, dipping beneath the now open buttons of her blouse to tweak her pebbled nipples. “Oh? What’s this? No bra today, Granger?”
Hermione arched into him, her generous tits on display to him. Draco dropped to his knees, taking a handful into his mouth. Hermione moaned as his tongue swirled her nipple, tweaking the other one in his hand. Draco could do sinful things with his tongue when he wanted. Hermione’s head fell back, a moan slipping out before she could stop it. His mouth was hot, greedy, worshipping in a way that made her stomach twist. With shaking hands she scrambled for her wand. A whispered Colloportus and Muffliato sealed the door and soundproofed the room. Draco chuckled against her skin, pulling back just enough to catch her eye.
“That’s my clever little witch,” he praised, smirk tugging at his lips. “Always thinking ahead. Now I can make you scream properly.”
“You’re insufferable,” she snapped, though the breathlessness in her voice betrayed her.
“And yet,” he drawled, rising back up to loom over her, grey eyes glinting, “your pretty thighs are already soaked through for me, aren’t they?”
Hermione’s face burned, but she refused to look away. That only seemed to please him more. He crowded her chair, hand sliding up her thigh until his fingers slipped beneath her skirt. His knuckles grazed damp silk, and his grin widened.
“Fuck, Granger… all this for me?”
A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it. Draco leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Three weeks, and you’ve been sitting at this desk, aching for my cock. Tell me you’ve touched yourself. Tell me you came thinking about me.”
Hermione let out a shaky breath, half-defiant, half-undone.
“Maybe I did.”
“Maybe?” His fingers pressed harder against her soaked knickers. “Don’t lie to me. Did you shove your fingers in this sweet cunt pretending it was me?”
Her silence was answer enough. Draco didn’t waste another second. As if he had been just as starved for her as she had been for him. He tugged her skirt up roughly, bunching it around her waist, and slid to his knees in front of her chair. Hermione’s breath hitched. At this point, she should be used to the sight of Malfoy, Draco Sodding Malfoy, kneeling between her legs. He was always a rather generous participant in their sexcapades. Yet the sight never failed to make her dizzy. He hooked her thighs over his shoulders like it was his birthright.
“You should see yourself,” he rasped, fingers teasing at the damp edge of her knickers before snapping them aside. “Spread out in your tiny little office, waiting for me to fuck this pretty little pussy with my tongue.”
She bristled.
“I am not waiting for you–”
Her protest turned into a strangled gasp when his mouth closed over her cunt, hot tongue flattening against her clit in a slow, devastating drag.
“Oh Gods,” she keened, one hand shooting to grip the arm of her chair, the other threading desperately into his pale hair.
His tongue circled, flicked, pressed, and every nerve in her body sang with it. He moaned against her, like her taste was the only thing he needed to get through his day, and the vibration made her hips buck. His hands clamped around her thighs, pinning her against his face, forcing her to take every obscene lick, every flick of his tongue. Her nails dug into his scalp hard enough to make him grunt, but the bastard only seemed to further his pursuit.
“Malfoy–”
“That’s right,” he hummed against her clit, tongue flicking mercilessly. “Say my name while you soak my mouth, Granger.”
Hermione’s head thunked back against the chair, eyes squeezed shut. This wasn’t supposed to be like this, she wasn’t supposed to want it this much. He was arrogant, infuriating, smug, and right now he was the only person who had ever (continuously) made her fall apart just from his mouth.
Her thighs trembled around his shoulders, but instead of easing, he doubled down, tongue sliding lower to fuck into her before sucking her clit again. She whimpered, high and desperate, tugging his hair like she could pull him away, but her hips ground shamelessly against his face, betraying her. Bugger.
“Oh. You’re going to make me—”
Draco pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, chin shining with her arousal.
“Already? And here I was planning to draw it out.”
“Don’t you–” She tried to catch her breath, to regain an ounce of dignity, but it shattered when he shoved two fingers inside her, crooking them just so while his mouth sealed back over her clit.
The moan that ripped out of her was humiliating. Wanton. Nothing she would ever let anyone else hear.
“Come on, Granger,” he coaxed, curling his fingers deeper, dragging that spot until she saw stars. “Be a good girl and cum all over my fingers for me.”
Her legs clamped tight around his head, her nails scratching against his scalp, and her whole body arched off the chair. The orgasm ripped through her like fire, and she screamed, actually screamed, as wave after wave wracked her. Draco groaned low in his throat, sucking her clit like he was trying to suck her soul, drawing every last shudder out of her until she slumped boneless against the chair.
Hermione panted, utterly undone. Her blouse was still open, breasts on display, skirt bunched up around her waist. She should’ve been mortified. She should have berated herself for allowing Malfoy the upper hand. Yet, knowing what would follow, what would come next, was enough to swallow her pride. Instead, she just sat there trembling, Draco Malfoy’s face buried between her thighs like it belonged there. Like he belonged there. And, if Hermione was honest with herself, he really really did. Her stomach dropped.
Merlin, what was she doing?
This wasn’t supposed to be…anything more. She didn’t want it to be more. She couldn’t. They weren’t officially exclusive, certainly weren’t dating, in fact they were nothing. Just two Ministry officials who shared the same sexual proclivity. They were two people taking advantage of a mutually beneficial arrangement. She was allowed to have good sex. So why did her chest feel tight? Why did her stupid heart ache like she’d just admitted something dangerous every time she'd imagined someone else in her position? She blamed it on post-orgasmic bliss. Egypt was calling from inside the house.
“Hey.” His voice was…concerned? Godric help her.
Slowly, his head lifted, his chin still shining with her slick. His silver eyes were too sharp, too knowing. He frowned, almost gently.
“Where’d you just go in that busy little brain of yours?”
Her lips parted, but no words came. She hated how raw she felt under that gaze.
“I–” She shook her head quickly, forcing a weak laugh. “Nowhere. I’m fine.”
He didn’t look convinced. His thumb stroked idly against the inside of her thigh, grounding, waiting. Patient. It made her squirm.
“Malfoy.” Her voice cracked. She reached for his jaw, pulling him closer, needing him to move, to stop staring at her like he could peel her open without a wand. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”
His jaw flexed.
“Granger…”
She knew he was going to argue, knew he’d hesitate. She couldn’t bear it. So she went for the one thing guaranteed to break him.
“Please,” she whispered, and her voice was wrecked, needy. “I miss you filling me up. I need it.”
His groan was violent, torn from his chest as his head dropped against her thigh.
“Fuck, that’s not playing fair and you know it.”
Hermione threaded her fingers through his hair, willing herself to maintain emotional control.
“Let me be your good girl, Malfoy. Fill me up and I'll hold every.last.drop. until it takes and I’m carrying your heir.”
Draco shot her crazy eyes, pupils blown wide. The clink of the belt of his Auror pants answered her and Hermione's hands greedily reached for his rock hard cock. The minute she gripped him, Draco hissed through his teeth, head snapping back as if her touch burned. Thick and hot in her hand, he twitched against her palm, and she felt drunk off the power of it, of the way Malfoy of all people buckled when she touched him. It was maddening. It was addicting.
“Fuck, Granger,” he rasped, his voice so low it vibrated straight through her chest. His hips thrust shallowly into her fist, hungry and impatient, like he couldn’t stand even the faintest delay. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you? About me pumping you full until you're dipping down your thighs at work.”
Her breath stuttered, her grip tightening as slick pooled between her legs again. Merlin, she hated him for knowing exactly how to break her down. Hated how her body betrayed her, thighs falling open, cunt aching for him.
“Yes,” she whispered before she could stop herself, cheeks burning.
His laugh was dark, wicked, triumphant.
“It seems I am not alone in my thoughts then.”
Before she could dissect that, he moved, fast, decisive. With a sweep of his arm, parchment, quills, and ink bottles went crashing to the floor. Hermione gasped, half a mind to protest the mess, but Draco was already gripping her waist, lifting her onto the now cleared desk. Her knickers were tugged down in one brutal stroke, left dangling off one ankle before he pocketed them. Hermione bit back a moan at the action, finding it incredibly hot, her pussy clenching around nothing. He didn’t bother with her skirt, he shoved it up around her hips, baring her to him, leaving her blouse open and her tits flushed and heaving from his earlier torment.
“You-you absolute menace,” she tried to snap, but her voice came out breathless, ruined.
She wanted to scold him for making chaos of her meticulously organized workspace. But what really burned her, what really made her nails curl into the polished wood, was how desperately she didn’t care.
“Salazar Granger, listen to yourself,” Draco mused, stepping between her thighs. His cock was thick and heavy in his fist, the tip dragging through her slick folds until she whimpered. “Trying so hard to be angry when you’re soaking my cock before I’ve even given you what you’re begging for.”
Hermione’s whole body jolted as he nudged her clit with the swollen head, dragging slow, filthy circles. Her thighs quivered, her breath hitched.
“Shut up,” she gasped, though her hips tilted helplessly toward him.
Draco smirked, leaning in close, his lips brushing her ear as he pressed against her entrance.
“Make me.”
Draco didn’t slam into her. No, he was far crueler than that. He pressed forward slow, deliberate, inch by inch, watching every flicker of reaction chase across her face. Her parted lips, the way her eyes fluttered, the little whimper she tried to bite back when he stretched her open.
“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, voice strained. His hand gripped her thigh tight, holding her wide for him, the other braced on the desk. “It’s like you were made for my cock.”
Hermione’s head fell back, her nails biting crescents into the polished wood as he sank deeper, deeper, until he bottomed out into her. Her cunt fluttered around him and he groaned, eyes squeezing shut like he was fighting the urge to spill already.
“Please,” she gasped, writhing against him, thighs trembling. “Please, Malfoy, stop dragging it out.”
He stilled, cock buried deep, forcing her to feel every maddening throb. His smirk was wrecked, trembling at the edges, his restraint paper thin.
“Already begging?” he taunted, though his voice cracked on the words. He leaned down, lips brushing hers. “So greedy for it, aren't you? You missed this, missed me splitting your tight little cunt open. Say it. Say you missed me filling you up.”
“I–” She clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer, voice breaking. “I missed it. I missed you. Now move, Draco.”
Oh. Oh. Yet another thing for her to dissect later. It seemed as if his control shattered. He pulled out only to slam back in, hard enough to rattle the desk beneath her. The pace he set was punishing, all sharp thrusts and the sound of skin meeting skin, his breath hot and ragged against her cheek. And then, oh gods, he started talking.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
“I swear no one else, no one else could ever-”
“You’ve ruined me.”
The words tumbled out frantic, snarling, and fevered as he thrust into the deepest spot he could reach. His hips snapped with brutal precision as though he could drive the truth back into himself with every thrust. Hermione’s eyes flew open, her body clenching tight at the rawness in his voice. He didn’t even seem to notice what he was admitting, lost in the haze of her cunt wrapped around him. She moaned his name and his rhythm faltered, his forehead dropping to hers as he groaned.
“Fuck, say it again. Say my name baby. Please.”
Hermione pressed her chest into Draco’s, caught in the throws of pleasure. She was so close, so damn close to nirvana, she could barely think as she clenched around his cock.
“Draco, oh, oh, gods yes.”
She broke with a cry, clenching and him, shuddering as her orgasm contracted within her. Draco groaned as he watched her fall apart, his own arrival oncoming. He buried his face into her neck, pressing a palm down onto her flat stomach as he filled her with his spend, muttering filthy things as he did so.
“Not a single drop can spill, Granger.” He said afterwards, panting still inside her.
She made a move to extricate herself from his softening cock, keeping her legs crossed so nothing dripped down her thighs, like the good little cumslut she was. Draco watched her grab her wand and point it at her belly, casting the contraception charm. He conveniently ignored the searing stab of disappointment that he definitely wasn’t feeling at her actions. Definitely not.
“Welcome back, Malfoy.”
Draco smirked as he cast a scourgify on himself, tidying his Auror robes.
“Mm. Quite. Same time tomorrow, Granger?”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I suppose I could make time.”
Draco grinned.
“Don’t deny yourself the privilege of bouncing on my glorious cock, Granger.”
Hermione turned back to her work as if she hadn’t just been fucked senseless.
“Goodbye, Malfoy.”
Ginny Zabini took one look at Hermione Granger and knew, with absolute certainty, that she’d just been freshly fucked. By whom, she couldn’t be sure, but she had a very, very strong suspicion of a certain blonde wizard to be the culprit. It was no secret the two former enemies were absolutely in love with each other. Well, no secret to anyone other than themselves. Ginny honestly wasn’t sure who had the bigger cognitive dissonance, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that one of her oldest friends was stupidly gone for the Malfoy Heir.
“Are you going to the Ministry Gala next week? Blaise has to go as the Games & Sports liaison and I don’t really want to attend without you.”
Hermione shot her friend a look.
“You know very well I’ll be in attendance. My House Elf Rights Bill is due in front of the Wizengamot and I must continue to garner support and donors.”
Ginny smirked.
“Speaking of donors…a little birdie told me you’ve found a certain blonde one.”
Hermione froze momentarily before schooling her features. It wasn’t a secret, per say, it was just a very big denial still on her part of anything more than a mutually beneficial situationship.
“You did, did you? Well, if Malfoy wants to assuage his post-war guilt by donating to worthy causes, who am I to say no?”
Ginny rolled her eyes but her smile was downright feral.
“You’re holding it in right now, aren’t you? You keep clenching your thighs together.”
Hermione nearly choked on her tea.
“Ginny! That’s, that’s nonsense.”
Ginny shrugged.
“Oh no need to be shy, Hermione. Malfoy is fit these days, I don’t blame you for wanting him.”
Hermione looked offended.
“You’re married to Blaise, Gin.”
Ginny shrugged.
“And Pansy Parkinson became a Potter. Stranger things have happened.”
Hermione shook her head.
“I’ll see you at the Gala, alright?”
Ginny smirked and gave her friend a once over once again.
“Oh and Hermione? You might want to glamor your neck. Malfoy certainly knows how to leave a mark!”
Hermione’s hand flew to her neck in horror, quickly conjuring a compact mirror. She pursed her lips at the clear hickey on the side of her neck. She was going to murder Draco the next time she saw him.
Draco knew he was fucked the moment Granger descended the staircase to the Ministry’s grand hall. Her gown was gorgeous and entirely fitting, navy blue and silver accents shimmering with each movement of her legs as she came closer. She had no escort, which oddly made Draco relax. He hoped she wasn’t seeing anyone. Sure, they fucked regularly, but it was always stolen moments at the Ministry. They didn’t usually interact outside their shared friend group outings.
While Draco had decided to become a one woman man for the moment, they had never explicitly stated exclusivity, so Draco had no idea what was going on in Granger’s mind. As he watched her mingle with the crowd, he was reminded of earlier, how he had her begging on his cock, how he had filled her with his spend and told her he would fill her until it took. He imagined what she’d look like, if she hadn’t cast the contraception charm. He imagined his heir in her belly, filling her, stretching her as she flirted with Ministry members, hanging on his arm.
The thought made his cock twitch in his slacks, but he quickly tamped it down. When her gaze finally found him across the hall, his stomach flipped. She stilled, just slightly, before raising her glass in acknowledgement. The picture of composure. But after all of their escapades together, he’d like to say he knew her quite well. He knew the way her pupils widened when she wanted something, the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed too hard. A memory tugged from the corner of his mind at the way her throat swallowed him down. Draco set down his untouched drink, weaving through the crowd with single-minded determination.
“Malfoy,” she greeted smoothly when he reached her, as though his presence didn’t immediately make her chest rise quicker.
“Granger,” he purred, his lips curved in wicked delight. “You look positively breathtaking this evening.”
“Thank you.” A light flush crept up her neck and settled high on her cheekbones. Her tongue instinctively darted out to wet her lips. “You look…”
“Fuckable?” He supplied, his voice laced with something embarrassingly like hope.
Her breath hitched just enough to satisfy him. It wasn’t a no. Without waiting for protest, he curled his hand around her elbow, guiding her through a side corridor lit only by floating sconces. They passed portraits that huffed indignantly, but Draaco didn’t stop until they reached an unoccupied room. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them.
“You’re out of your mind,” Hermione whispered, though her back hit the wall willingly as he crowded her space.
Draco’s lips curved.
“Maybe, but we have done worse.” His hand slid to her hip, the satin of her gown bunching under his fingers. “You walked down those stairs looking like that and expected me to just stand there?”
“People will notice-” she tried, but her words dissolved into a sharp gasp when he pressed his thigh between her legs, pinning her more firmly against the paneling.
“Let them.” His voice was a low growl, a sharp tug of possessiveness creeping through.
He was positively gone, almost deliriously so.
“You should be on my arm tonight, not making small talk with people who’d sell their souls for five minutes of your attention.” His lips skimmed her jaw, hot breath fanning her skin. “And the whole time, I’m standing there remembering that it’s been far too long since I stuffed your cunt full.”
“It’s been a day, Draco.”
“Is my pretty little cumslut saying she doesn’t want it?”
An insistent ache crept into his chest at the thought but his mind was beyond any form of rationality. He raised his thigh, just a little higher until it was snug against her warmth. A whimper escaped her lips and he looked at her knowingly, his lips curving at the edges.
“Words, Granger.”
She scowled, but there was no heat to it.
“You know I always want it.” She huffed, rocking her hips once against his thigh for emphasis.
“Want what?” Draco crooned, pulling back just enough to look at her, grey eyes molten with intent.
“You,” she whispered, teeth catching her bottom lip. “Your cock.”
He hissed softly through his teeth, the sound almost feral. His hands bunched her gown higher, dragging the fabric up her thighs until his knuckles brushed bare skin.
“That’s my good girl.”
Her breath caught when the cool air of the room met her heat, and then his fingers hooked her knickers aside, finding her already slick. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her neck.
“Fuck, you’re always ready for me.”
“We need to be quick, please just—”
“Greedy little thing.” He growled, shoving his trousers down just far enough, the ache in his cock near painful as it sprang free.
She made quick work to wriggle her knickers down her thighs, kicking them to the side before he scooped her up from the back of her thighs. Her hand reached between them, lining the tip of his cock up with her entrance. His eyes flicked between her own before he slammed into her, the sharp sting of the first thrust stealing her breath. Her cry was muffled when he crushed his mouth against hers, swallowing every sound as he drove into her, desperate and unrelenting as he body folded against the wall, legs hooked in his forearms. The wood of the wall rattled with each thrust, her back arched as he held her hips pinned, his pace brutal with an all consuming need.
“Take it,” he gritted, sweat dampening his hairline. “Take all of it, Granger.”
Her nails tore at his shoulders, the dress slipping down to expose the top swell of her breasts.
“Gods, Draco.”
He buried his face against her neck, teeth scraping over her pulse.
“Say it. Say you’ll let me breed you right here with the whole Ministry on the other side of that door.”
Her whimper broke into a moan, her walls fluttering around him, and Draco nearly lost it, rutting harder, faster, like he could drive the thought into existence through sheer force. She clung to him, but then her hand slipped down between their bodies. Fingers brushing where they were joined.
“Fuck,” Draco snarled, hips stuttering as he felt the faintest drag of her touch against the base of his cock. “Keep touching yourself. Want–Need—to feel you come on my cock.”
Her laugh was breathless, desperate.
“Want to come—need it, Draco—”
His pace faltered again at the use of his given name. He shook it off, his heart hammering.
“My greedy little slut, so good for me. So perfect for me to fuck a baby into.” he rasped, grabbing her and hiking her up higher around his waist to drive deeper.
The new angle had her keening, fingers circling her clit frantically as he pounded into her. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the dim room, wet and obscene. Her slick coated him, dripping down his cock, and his vision nearly blacked out with the force of his oncoming orgasm.
“Look at you,” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers, watching her crumble beneath him. “So fucking desperate for me. Fuck, working yourself while I fill you, going to milk me dry.”
Her walls clenched violently around him, her breath catching in a strangled sob as her fingers pushed her over the edge. She broke apart with a cry muffled against his shoulder, her body shaking, pulsing around his cock.
The sensation wrecked him. Draco slammed forward once, twice, then buried himself to the hilt with a hoarse groan, cock throbbing as he spilled inside her. Hot, thick, endless. He pressed her harder into the wall, grinding through every pulse of release, as though determined to force it deeper.
“Take it,” he panted, teeth sinking into her shoulder as her cunt milked him. “Take every drop. I want it to stick, Granger. I want you to swell with my heir, ruined for anyone else.”
Her nails scraped down his back, her own aftershocks leaving her weak and trembling.
“Gods.”
Her thighs trembled around his waist, a sated smile on her face. His heart clenched as he observed her. He did that. He made her feel that way. He wanted to curse his traitorous heart. After a moment, he slipped from her warm heat and set her down on wobbly legs.
He crouched down, grabbing her knickers from the floor and tapping her calf once in instruction. An amused, almost fond chuckle escaped her lips as he helped tug her the fabric back up her legs. His fingers scooped any of his spend that had slipped from her, pushing it back into her with a satisfied smile on his face. He noticed she didn’t reach for her wand this time. He secretly hoped she’d forget to.
“When you walk around the Gala tonight, when you talk to your donors, remember who's dripping down your thighs, who owns this pretty little cunt dried and filled with my cum.”
Hermione fixed herself with a flourish. She waited until the door closed before she allowed herself to bask in the aftermath of being freshly fucked by Draco Malfoy.
Hermione smiled as she returned to the Gala, smoothing the lines in her evening gown and making sure to glamor her hair back into place as little wisps had come loose from her elegant bun. She felt her cheeks burn as the evidence of what she’d just done spread between her thighs as she walked. She picked up a glass of champagne off a catered tray and waited exactly three minutes before approaching Newt Scamander, an essential backer of her push for House Elf Rights. She saw Malfoy also reenter the room, looking as polished and poncey as he always did, as if he hadn’t just railed her six ways to Sunday.
She rolled her eyes at his cocky grin, grey eyes meeting hers as they flitted to her core and then back up. He raised his eyebrow in a silent communication between the two and she turned away in answer, bringing her attention back to Scamander and willing her thighs not to rub together, sticky with spend. She felt her wand in her holster on her leg and though the war had ended years ago, it was a habit she’d never quite been able to part with, keeping her wand on her at all times.
“Ah, Miss Granger, so lovely to see you again. You look ravishing tonight.”
Hermione smiled politely, batting her lashes slightly in the way she knew worked on Ministry men and other important guests and dignitaries. At these Ministry Gala’s, it was not the time for her fierce feminism, but of challenge, game, patience and waiting and playing the demure long game.
“You’re charming as always, I see. Britain has treated you well, yes?”
Newt smiled as he sipped his Champagne glass.
“Mm. Quite. The views here are always rather bewitching."
Hermione did not miss the veiled pass. She laughed lightly, the sound like tinkling bells, and conveniently ignored the death stare currently sawing into the back of her head from a Wizard she knew all too well.
“Newt Scamander, right?”
It happened so fast Hermione didn’t know how to react. She felt the arm slip around her waist before she could pull away and her Champagne glass lifted from her hands and into much larger, pale ones.
“Draco Malfoy, Auror for the DMLE.”
Newt laughed and glanced at the arm around Hermione’s waist.
“Ah, Mr. Malfoy, yes, how could I forget such a name?”
Draco smirked and tightened his arm around Hermione, pulling her closer to his side. She tried to discreetly move away, but his grip remained firm. He shot Hermione a look as if to say let me help. Hermione hesitantly trusted her former enemy.
“Yes, well, a little birdie told me Miss Granger here had a House Elf Rights bill coming before the Wizengamot. The Malfoys have proudly donated 100,000 galleons to the cause. I imagine it would be quite helpful, yes, Hermione?”
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. She wondered who that anonymous donation she’d received last month was from and now she’d had her answer. She tried to ignore the way her heart did summersaults in her chest or how suddenly the feel of Draco’s arm around her waist was a comfort, not a hindrance.
“Well, on good faith and allyship, it is only right that the Scamanders’ shall match such a worthy donation.”
Hermione smiled a brilliant, all encompassing smile and thanked the Wizard profusely for his contributions. The night wore on, Draco never leaving her side once as he helped her work the floor. Hermione couldn’t stop smiling as the progress made towards her goal of House Elf Rights became more realized than ever. It was only when the night wound down and guests started to disperse that Hermione pulled Draco with her through the floo and into her Diagon Alley flat.
“Alright, Malfoy, spill it. What was your angle here tonight? Do you expect something in return from me?”
Draco twirled a curl of hers between his fingers.
“Easy Granger, can’t I just want to help you? Must there be a motive?”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“There is always a hidden motive with you snakes. Out with it, Malfoy. What do you want?”
Draco bit his lip, struggling with himself. If he laid it all on the table, if he bared his feelings now, he could potentially lose the one thing they had together. The best sex of his life. If it worked out in his favor? He’d no longer have to settle for stolen moments in the Department of Mysteries or hidden trists in the daylight. He could have her, all of her, and everything that came with it. Marriage, children, love. He wanted it all so badly with this witch it drove him mad.
“I’m in love with you, Granger.” He ran a hand through his hair, forcing her to look him in the eyes as he made up his mind. “I’ve been stupidly in love with you for years. I don’t just want you in hidden alcoves or office trysts. I want you every day. I want to be the first person you see when you wake up and the last you see before you go to bed. I want to walk with you on my arm everyday and accompany you to every Gala, function, or event. I want to call you my wife and fill you with my babies. I want to raise stubborn little swots and poncey Malfoys. I just want you. I want it all with you. That’s the truth, Hermione. That’s my motive.”
Hermione did not know what to think or say. She felt a million emotions all bundled into one word. Love. He loved her? Her, Hermione Granger, Muggleborn witch? It had stopped her brain completely. She let her mouth fall open into a small ‘o’ and suddenly found the floor very interesting.
“Y-you do?”
Draco pulled Hermione into his chest, wrapping her in a tight hug.
“Stupidly.” Draco placed a kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s not just temporary for me. I mean it, Granger. I don’t want a life where you’re not in it. And now that I’ve had you? I will never let you go.”
Hermione closed her eyes and let her body melt into the taller, broader wizard. She breathed in his scent, letting the familiar notes of cedarwood, firewhisky, and bergamot envelop her senses.
“Is it crazy that I feel the same? That I want to be the witch you come home to every night? That I am your first thought when you wake and your last thought before you go to sleep? I want to be the mother of your children, the wife on your arm at Gala’s and events, and I want it all with you, everyday too.”
Draco brought both his hands up to thread through her hair, cupping her neck and the back of her head.
“I love you, Hermione. I’m only sorry I waited so long to say it.”
Hermione smiled and leaned in for a slow, tantalizing kiss. It was tender and passionate, exploratory and asking.
“I love you too, Draco Malfoy.”
He smiled as he swept her up into his arms, bridal style, carrying her up the steps of her moderately sized flat and to the bedroom she pointed to on the left. He threw her onto the bed and climbed on top of her, gazing at her with so much love and devotion.
“I’m going to make love to you now, Granger. I’m going to worship your body, explore every inch of you that I can, taking my time with you. I’m going to watch you come apart on my tongue and my cock, and I’m going to whisper how much I love you as I fall apart with you. And this time, when I come inside you, I’m going to get you pregnant. I’m going to give you exactly what we both want and you’re going to let me.”
Hermione could barely think as her pupils blew wide with love, lust, and desire. Her thighs clenched together, her knickers soaked from his words alone. He smirked as his fingers dipped below her dress slit, sliding up along her thigh to push her knickers aside and rest his long middle finger right along her slit, teasing, but not entering.
“Draco, please.”
And this time, as he made love to her, as he took her apart over and over again, the outcome could be nothing but mutually beneficial.