Chapter Text
Professor Malfoy cancelled their detention on Friday too, not even bothering to tell her personally, but sending the message to Theo only. And she would have dismissed it as nothing personal, if he also didn’t cancel their weekly liaison. And then another. And another.
For someone who cared so much about testing her knowledge and making her life miserable, Professor Draco Malfoy wasn’t doing a really good job. He ignored her in the Dark Magic classes too, only occasionally grilling her on subjects he knew she had no idea about and enjoying her humiliation.
She felt his gaze on her sometimes, mostly when he thought she wasn’t looking, too busy reading the textbook or listening to Theo’s ridiculous stories. But even if she didn’t see him looking at her, she felt him. She felt his attention and his frustration and anger and everything in between.
A month had passed since the Malfoy Manor burnt. A month since her nightmares disappeared. A month since he last spoke to her.
“Hey, Theo.” She jabbed him in the ribs, causing him to jump in his seat. The Dark Magic classroom was still empty as the class wasn’t about to begin for the next forty-five minutes. That was exactly why she was here and why she dragged Nott out of his bed at seven in the morning. She Levitated a cup of steaming, black coffee and a croissant onto his desk as a little bribe. “What do I have to do to talk you into risking another detention?”
His eyes flashed and he sobered up almost instantly. She knew he was partying with his friends all night after the Quidditch game they won, but she needed his help—needed to do something before the weekend came and she would have to suffer another humiliation of her liaison professor avoiding their meetings.
Theo eyed the croissant for a long while before stuffing half of it into his mouth. Gods, this boy couldn’t eat like a normal person. “How big of a detention are we talking about?”
Hermione’s eyebrows rose and she reached to brush off crumbs of the pastry from the corner of his mouth. “Do you even—” He caught her thumb between his teeth, a low laughter rumbling in his chest. “Care? And stop doing that.”
“Well, it did take me three days to get rid of that dragon shit reek the last time we served detention together, so—”
“That detention wasn’t my fault,” she pointed out. “But I guess it might be worse than that. If you play your part well.”
She knew Theo had noticed her little crush on Professor Malfoy, aka his best friend and someone like an older brother. And she supposed he had also known why he wouldn’t talk to Hermione, though no matter how many times she asked, he kept his mouth shut.
Hence, it was entirely possible he wouldn’t agree to help her this time. “I will only ask you one… okay, maybe two, questions. Okay?” She nodded. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into with him? I’m not talking about the fact that he’s your teacher but—”
“I guess I’m about to find out,” she cut in. “But he can’t ignore me forever, Theo. You know what he did last month, don’t you? I couldn’t even thank him because the tosser has been avoiding me ever since.”
“And you think using me to make him jealous is the solution to this?”
“Why, did you tell him that we’re not fuck buddies anymore?” Hermione caught his chin and angled it so they’d face each other. He smelled of coffee and butter and for once, she wished she had a normal taste in men. “Did you, Theo?”
He chewed up his laugh, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Of course not. I’ve been telling him about all the places in the library I made you come,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “And all the places you made me come, too.”
“I have no doubts your imagination is… limitless when it comes to debauchery.”
“Oh, if you only knew.” He pried her hand off his face and shoved her further into her chair, the hard ridges biting into her shoulder blades. His face was so close to hers that his messy, still damp from the shower, curls tingled her skin. “Do you want to know how I did it yesterday?”
She couldn’t help when her heart jackhammered in her chest. It was her body’s natural reaction to closeness, the warmth of another human body. And Theo, even though nothing ever happened between them, was really generous with giving away his warmth.
“Mhm,” she hummed. A quick glance at her watch told her that Professor Malfoy should be in the classroom any minute now. “Do tell, Theodore.”
His cock twitched in his trousers and she felt every inch of it against her stomach. “Fuck, Granger,” Theo hissed. “Don’t say my name like that or I’ll fucking come in my pants.”
“At least you’ll stop complaining about your blue balls,” then, a little lower, “ Theodore.”
She smiled against his lips, teasing her with the nearly-touch of hers when he groaned, pulling her onto his lap before she knew what was happening. “You’re a menace,” he whispered in her air, his hand sliding a little too low on her back.
“And you are—”
“Am I interrupting something?” A low voice filled the room as Draco Malfoy swept inside. “Don’t you have your own rooms? And what are you doing out of bed before eight, Nott?”
To his credit, Theo sobered up pretty quickly, though he kept his hand on her arse, squeezing it almost possessively. “There are people worth getting up before the sunrise, sir,” he teased. She wondered how many times Professor Malfoy was close to murdering him in the years they’d known each other. “If they can make you see the stars anyway then why waste—”
“Fascinating. I wish I could give a single fuck about your celestial experiences,” he interrupted. “You can tell me about it tomorrow. I expect to see you on the Quidditch pitch at half past five in the morning.”
“It’s Saturday—”
A slow smirk spread on his face. “Then you will have all day to dedicate to your detention,” he said flatly. “You, Miss Granger, follow me to my office.”
Theo, to his credit, acted profoundly offended by the injustice. “So what, she gets to serve detention in your office while I have to get up in the middle of the night on my only free day?” He pressed his hand to his chest, shaking his head vigorously. Hermione could barely contain her laughter.
“Would you rather take Miss Granger’s place?” A knowing look passed between them and her classmate grimaced at the mere thought of it. “I thought so.”
Before she stood up, Theo winked at her conspicuously and murmured, “Good luck. Remember I warned you about this.”
“But the class—” she protested.
Professor Malfoy was not in the mood to argue. “The class is cancelled. Let’s go,” he snarled. “We’re going to have a long overdue chat about following the orders, Miss Granger. And I’ll make sure to teach you a proper lesson this time.”
She followed him without another word, thankful that there were absolutely no students in the hallways just yet. She was, however, about to protest when she thought he would make her climb the fucking stairs again, but he opened another secret passage and shoved her inside.
A voice in her head chanted loudly: What the hell do you think you’re doing, Hermione? He is your teacher. Your teacher. Teacher…
She ignored the voice.
And smiled when Professor Malfoy’s lips crashed against hers. “I need to get you out of my system,” he groaned in between kisses, “or I’ll fucking explode.”
Hermione was wet before he finished his next sentence.
When he called her a slut, she was ready to beg him to fuck her, right there in that dark and dirty passageway. She didn’t care what it said about her, or him, or the world for condemning their actions.
But he clearly wasn’t planning on fucking her—not there, not just yet.
He did, however, intend to make her tremble with need for him.
He kissed her like a man possessed, claiming her lips and forcing his tongue inside her mouth; tasting her, devouring. One of his hands grabbed her wrists and secured them above her head while he used the other to tilt her chin the way he wanted at a given moment. Up and down, left and right, he changed the angle nearly every second, as though searching for the perfect way to kiss her.
And she moaned into his mouth every time, making his smirk reappear for a split second when she did. “I tried to stay away from you, Miss Granger. But you just fucking had to make me lose control, didn’t you? What would have happened if I was late for the class? Would I find you bouncing on Theo’s cock to make me angry?”
“Yes,” she said. Because it was all that was to be said. The truth she wouldn’t even try to hide from him if he gave her a chance to explain; the truth that should have been embarrassing but felt like the rightest thing in the world. “You don’t get to ignore me like that after you go all the way to fucking England and burn your house to the ground,” she breathed, her chest heaving. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. “If you don’t want this, then all you have to do is tell me. But don’t fucking—”
He silenced her with another kiss, pressing his chest against hers, but keeping his hips at a distance still. Hermione coiled her leg around his and tried to pull him closer, which only earned an amused chuckle from him. “You think I don’t want this, little witch?” His cock pressed against her stomach as he leaned further forward. He was so close she could smell the mint and whiskey in his cologne, overwhelming as usual. “Does this feel like it?”
She shook her head, breathing him in. Taking him in as the ridge of his cock pressed harder and harder, until she could practically feel the throbbing vein on the underside of it even through all the layers of their clothes.
He bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. “Words, darling. I’m going to need you to use your words from now on. Loud and clear, do you understand?” His tongue collected the two drops of blood that welled on her bottom lip. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
“Y-yes.”
A smirk. “Yes, what?”
She looked up at him through her lashes. There was no anger left on his face, only the same frustration she was certain he could see in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” The praise sent a shiver down her spine; more heat coiling in the pit of her stomach, soon to be dripping down her thighs. His thumb traced the seam of her lips, then her jaw, before sliding to the underside of her chin and tilted it up. “I am not a nice man, Miss Granger. I’m not going to make love to you or whisper that I love you like Theodore does.”
She held his gaze, unflinching.
“Are you a virgin?”
A faint blush crept up her neck. Considering that she was about to fuck her teacher, it really shouldn’t be a question that embarrassed her. And yet it did. “I’m not, sir.”
Something akin to relief crossed his face. She wasn’t sure if he was relieved because he was one of these men who didn’t want to bother with virgins, or because he thought he might have been too rough on her.
“I don’t care,” he said as if sensing her thoughts. “But it certainly makes it easier.”
He kissed her one last time, softer and slower, before he pulled away completely and took her hand. “Remember when I told you I would punish you for that bloody uniform?” He pointed to the hem of her skirt, too short to be considered decent anymore. She didn’t have to answer this time. “I’m going to lock you in my office for the whole day and fuck you raw. Maybe then you will learn.”
Doubtful, she thought, smiling seductively at him. She didn’t even mind her lips stung when she bit on her lip again. “Do your worst, Professor Malfoy.”
Hermione was afraid that by the time they reached his office, Professor Malfoy would change his mind; that she would change her mind. And honestly, it would have been the rational thing to do.
She could come back to her dorm before things went too far. They had only kissed, after all. But she’d spent a month pretending that what she felt for her Dark Magic professor was just normal attraction. A month with hands under her bedsheets, touching herself every night and imagining it was him.
Merlin, she had even considered fucking Theo.
But she knew nothing would satiate this hunger, this primal need that she had never felt before. And he must have known it too, judging by what he’d said in the passageway and by the way he’d avoided her ever since that evening in his office.
“Are you sure you want this?” Professor Malfoy asked when they finally reached his office. He closed the door behind her and draped the tapestry over the secret entrance, leaning against the wall—and waiting. Even though he posed to look relaxed she could see the tension in his body, in the muscles of his jaw. “I want to make one thing very clear, Miss Granger,” he said in that professor tone of his. “If you choose to walk away now, or at any moment during the day, it will not have any impact on your grades or evaluation. But if you choose to stay…” He pushed off the wall and prowled towards her. “I expect you to never touch another man. As long as we do this, you are mine . Do you understand?”
Hermione lifted her chin to meet his gaze. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d made the decision long ago; she didn’t want to seem too desperate, though she suspected he already knew that. They were always meant to crash. “I want to do this. I want to stay.”
A satisfied smirk stretched its way across his features. There were a few steps between them still and yet even with the distance, she knew he owned her already. “Do you have a safe word?”
Oh God.
This was really happening.
“Angel,” she breathed.
“How fitting,” he chuckled darkly. His fingers found their way to her hair and he wrapped one of her curls around his thumb, tugging not-so-gently. “You won’t be one when I’m done with you.”
Hermione rose up to the challenge. “What if I like darkness, sir?”
Professor Malfoy grabbed a fistful of her hair then, her scalp burning as he pulled her closer, watching her reaction. She yelped quietly, unable to keep the sound in, which only caused him to chuckle again. “We’ll see about that, baby. Now…” he considered her for a second, eyes falling to her swollen mouth as though he considered kissing her again, before his gaze flickered around the room. She knew what he was looking at by the time his smile widened. “Do you see that cauldron in the corner?”
As if he even had to ask.
She didn’t look away, enjoying the undisturbed view of his face; of the sharp features she could probably paint from memory at this point. He looked healthier than the last time they were alone—younger, too.
The said cauldron was rather legendary among students, though for an entirely different reason than Hermione imagined she would associate it with after this day. She smiled innocently, eyelashes fluttering. “You want me to scrub it, sir?”
“I think I will find a better use for you, Miss Granger,” his head whipped back to her when he noticed she was glaring at him. “Go and bend over that cauldron. But,” a mischievous pause, “be careful. I brewed a fresh portion of the Draught of Living Death last night. You’ll want to grab the edge really tight.”
Her eyes widened and for a second she thought he was joking. Surely he wouldn’t keep an entire cauldron of one of the most dangerous potions in the world in his office? And surely—surely he wouldn’t fuck her on it?
“What’s wrong? You said you liked darkness,” he gave her a bland look from behind his glasses. When she hesitated, he cocked an eyebrow in a somewhat mocking manner. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t worry.”
She should be running away. This wasn’t just reckless anymore, no; what started as a simple I-want-to-fuck-my-hot-teacher situation was going into the direction of this-is-the-kind-of-a-man-you-should-be-staying-away-from.
The choice should be simple.
The door was right there, unlocked.
But Hermione knew her heart wasn’t beating faster all this time because she was terrified by what Professor Malfoy could do to her; by how dirty his imagination truly was. She wasn’t breathing so heavily because she thought something bad could happen to her with him.
No.
This wasn’t fear.
This was anticipation.
She wanted this. And she was done pretending she didn’t. So, with a deep inhale, she slowly turned on her heel and walked to the cauldron. She could have sworn she heard Professor Malfoy smile when she finally moved, and it turned her on even more.
The cauldron was the size of a desk, the ridge reaching her stomach as she stood in front of it, her hand touching the outside walls. A shiver ran down her spine when she felt the unnatural coldness against her skin, suggesting that whatever was brewing inside was indeed dangerous, lethal potion.
It excited her more than it should.
“Bend over,” Professor Malfoy repeated his order, “and hold on tight, Miss Granger.”
With her heart thudding in her chest, she stepped closer until her stomach was pressed against the cauldron and grabbed the opposite edge as she slowly leaned down. She shuddered, realising her too-short skirt was probably exposing more than she planned to.
When she dared to look into the cauldron, she saw her reflection in the potion so black it nearly seemed translucent, her laboured breaths creating small ripples on the surface. It smelled of nothing, reminded her of nothing, like a mirror into your soul that would show you anything you wished to see.
It was, indeed, the Draught of Living Death.
“Fuck,” she murmured under her breath. Her palms grew sweaty and she kept her all attention on never letting go of the cauldron.
Professor Malfoy didn’t move an inch for this whole time, but she felt his overwhelming, demanding presence in the room nonetheless. “Are you scared, little witch?”
“Yes,” she answered. There was no point in lying.
“Good. I’d think you a fool if you weren’t,” his voice was raspy when he spoke. “Now, I want you to spread your legs for me.” Hermione obeyed, painstakingly aware of how exposed it would leave her to him. Desperate not to lose balance, she carefully moved her feet. “Wider,” came his command. “Mmm, that won’t do, baby. A few more inches, yes… just like that. I want to see you.”
“But the cauldron—”
He clicked his tongue. “If I wanted excuses, I would have asked for them. Did you really think that I would let this short skirt go unpunished? That you could tease me with those long legs of yours without having to pay for it later?”
Hermione didn’t respond, her arms shaking as she tried to hold on to the cauldron. She knew he had the situation under control, even if she didn’t know how , but the thought of falling head first into this particular potion, or having the cauldron fall and let it spill all over her… it did scare her.
With her thoughts racing, she didn’t even realise when Professor Malfoy walked over to her. He either moved so quietly she had no chance to hear him, or she was so focused on the fear that she missed it. Either way, his arm snaked under her belly, keeping her safe as he used his knee to kick her legs apart wider and wider and wider .
“Is this okay?” He asked with unexpected gentleness. His hand squeezed her waist, followed by a caress. “Do you want to stop?”
She inhaled, her lungs expanding. His hand never left her body, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, but soft enough to tell her she was safe. And she didn’t know if it was the touch, or the fact that he actually stopped to make sure she was alright, but when she exhaled, she was free of that immobilising fear; free of any doubts.
“I didn’t use the safe word, did I?”
He laughed so loud the motion reverberated in her chest, spreading warmth all over her body and down to her core. “You’re such a little slut,” Professor Malfoy said, sending another shiver down her spine. “Oh, you like it when I call you that, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to answer but breath whooshed out of her chest before she could say anything, her body stiffening as Draco’s palm smacked her left thigh, then right. Her skin burnt and Hermione was sure his touch would leave its mark. He then rubbed her thighs, massaging the uncomfortable sensation away, and without any further warning, pushed her knickers to the side and dipped one finger inside her.
“Oh,” was all she could push past her lips. He didn’t even move, he just kept his finger inside and Hermione was already throbbing for him.
His cold rings teased the hot slickness between her legs as he pressed his knuckles to her slit. She might have been already trembling; she might have imagined it all, too.
And then he moved.
Not the way Hermione wanted to, though. He pulled out and smeared her arousal all across her arsecheeks before he spanked her again and again. She moaned and screamed and begged, but his dark laughter suggested that he enjoyed every second of it.
He shifted slightly so that his thigh touched the back of her leg and her hip and bunched her school skirt around her hips, shoving the hem under the elastic of her underwear. She might have said something, might have begged again, but whatever she said was lost to the loud moan she let out when he dragged his fingers down her slit, coating them with her juices, and pushed two fingers in her cunt.
It was getting incredibly hard to hold onto the fucking cauldron. Hermione met his too-slow and too-shallow thrusts, pushing her hips back for more friction. And for a few seconds, he let her play by her rules; let her ride his palm.
But then he stopped. “Did I say you could do that?”
She tried to move again but he managed to hold her in a way she could barely shift her hips. “No.”
He curled his fingers inside her, caressing the soft walls and making her mewl. “No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“Good girl,” he praised and began his ministrations again. His movements were faster this time; rougher. Every time he pulled in and out, his ringed knuckles hit her folds and his thumb found its way to rub her clit when she cried out his name. “Are you going to come?”
“Y-yes.”
His hand stilled and he pulled away, smacking her butt before pulling her off the cauldron and hugging her close to his chest. “ No .”
“Sir, please—” she begged.
“Beg all you want, little witch, but you don’t get to come until I say so,” his voice was hoarse, demanding. She knew she was at his mercy from the beginning, but only now she realised how real it was. Her legs trembled even without an orgasm, and she wrapped her arm around his neck for steadiness. “Aw, you think we’re going to cuddle now? Get on your knees.”
Hermione looked at him, her eyes half-pleading, half-demanding, but when it became clear he wasn’t going to touch her now, she left the comfort of his embrace and lowered herself to her knees in the middle of his office. Right under one of these magical orbs, right across the door.
It was the first time when she could look at him—truly look at him. She had always known he was a large man, but from this perspective—kneeling for him; submitting—he seemed to be closer to a dragon with his posture than to a man.
He unclasped his red Durmstrang cloak and tossed it to the side, craning his neck as though it was too heavy even for him. Hermione didn’t move; didn’t say anything. She let him (or she liked to tell herself that she did) decide what to do with her.
“So pretty on your knees for me,” Professor Malfoy drawled. “Take your shirt off.”
Hermione’s stiff hands moved to her neck, barely touching the knot of her tie when he shook his head. “Did I say anything about the tie?” His grey eyes shone with mischief. “You need to learn to follow the orders, little witch. I’m starting to think you’re disobeying me on purpose.”
She wasn’t—not this time, but he didn’t need to know that, did he? “And what if I am, sir?” She asked, her lips curling into a seductive smile, as she tried to take the red tie off again.
Professor Malfoy flicked his wrist and the knot tightened, slightly but enough for her to feel the difference. “Don’t taste my patience, or so help me Merlin, I will choke you until you pass out.”
Her heart hammered at the threat. God, she really was depraved.
He eyed her up and down, painfully slow, then grinned wickedly as he rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up to his elbows. His forearms were covered in multiple tattoos of dragons and roses, and some other symbols she didn’t understand. The black ink was stark against his pale skin and she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist to trace every single one of them later.
“Your shirt, Miss Granger,” he tutted. Her fingers moved idly to unbutton the white Oxford as quickly as she could, the craving to touch him roaring inside her with his every arduous step.
When she was done and the shirt was on the floor, he crouched down in front of her, that wicked grin stretching even wider. He kept his eyes on hers, silver meeting gold, but his hand was on her back, tracing patterns up and down her spine, before he unclasped her bra with his thumb and forefinger.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, gaze dropping to her tits. She shuddered, feeling a little self-conscious as he inspected her breasts with unhidden scrutiny. Too many times someone reminded her that they were too small, or not pert enough, or that her nipples were too dark. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. She had to admit that his skill at reading her moods, recognising every little telltale of her fears and insecurities was astounding. And she knew that it was trouble.
“What’s wrong?” He asked in a way that told her he really cared . She swallowed thickly when his hand palmed her breast and he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “Did someone say your tits were anything but perfect?” As if to confirm his statement, he squeezed her bud, earning a soft moan from her.
She shook her head.
She didn’t want to talk about this right now, maybe not ever. Because if she did, she would start crying and it was the last thing she needed now. But Professor Malfoy would not be so easily fooled. “Who, baby? Tell me or I will find every man who has ever talked to you, rip their tongues out and shove it down their throats.”
“No, please—don’t do that .” She didn’t doubt he actually would follow through his promise. This was a man who burnt his house to the ground because she told him it caused her nightmares… and it was before they even fucked. “Can we not talk about this now?”
He considered her for a moment. “But you will talk to me about this later?”
“I will,” she lied.
“Nice try,” he scoffed. “You’re not getting out of this so easily, though. We will talk about this and about everyone who has ever wronged you.”
“The list is pretty long.”
Professor Malfoy smirked and rose to his feet. “And I have plenty of free time. But now… do you want to pick up where we left off or would you rather call it a day?”
Hermione straightened her spine and smiled, blinking away the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. Gods, she didn’t come here to cry about boys laughing at her tits, but she knew she would if only he pressed her more.
“If you don’t fuck me soon, sir…” she started, licking her lips as he fumbled with the metal claps of his dragonhide belt. He pulled it out of the loops, one by one, as if giving her time to reconsider her response.
“Then what, little witch?” His voice dropped to that sensual purr again, his words scratching an itch she didn’t know was bothering her. He unbuttoned his trousers, pulled the zipper down, and waited.
He seemed to like it. Waiting.
She knew it was a part of the power play between them, and though she usually loved to— needed —to be in control, she didn’t mind losing it with him. For him. Which was ridiculous, considering how very little she knew about him.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of the bulge pressing against his clothes, every drop of blood rushing to her core. His belt dropped onto her lap, a promise of another punishment if she wouldn’t obey.
She considered it. But then she said, “Then I’m going to think you’re all talk and that you—” Hermione didn’t get to finish her sentence when Professor Malfoy shoved his cock into her mouth, using his free hand to grab her hair and tilt her head for a better angle.
“One of us is all talk, baby,” he said, giving her a condescending smile. He waited for her to relax her palate, giving her the few extra seconds she needed to adjust to his size (and fuck, there was so much to adjust) before he slid his cock further down her throat. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
She tried to tease him with her tongue but he filled her so perfectly she could barely catch a breath, let alone move her tongue inside her mouth. Draco pulled out slowly, his pupils blown wide as he watched the string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock with her lips. The fact that he was still fully clothed made her cunt clench on nothing, the sight of his muscle straining under the black shirt causing her legs to tremble.
“Stick your tongue out,” he ordered. She did as he asked, already breathing heavily, and though she was tempted to lick the beads of precum from his head, she did nothing, waiting for instructions. “You’re finally catching up, great. Open your mouth as wide as you can.” She did. “I’m going to fuck your throat now, Hermione. Try not to choke.”
“But—”
He spat at her tongue and slid his cock back into her mouth. “But what? You seem to have forgotten this is your punishment. Did you think I was going to make it easy for you?” Thrust. “At this school, students work really hard for their rewards.” Thrust. “And I told you that you would get no special treatment unless you deserved it. So.” Thrust. “Work.” Thrust. “For.” Thrust. “It.”
The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and she gagged, gasping for breath when he pulled out. Her jaw ached and drool dripped down her chin but he didn’t stop. “Such a perfect cockslut, letting me use your throat like that.” He tugged at the tie around her neck, the soft fabric expanding as he shoved his cock down her throat again. “Does this turn you on?”
Hermione nodded, because yes, even though her mascara was already running down her cheeks and she was so breathless she could pass out any second, this was turning her on.
Probably more than it should.
“Play with your clit,” Draco said. A faint blush tainted his pale cheeks, hair falling onto his face as he fucked her throat at a relentless pace. He was so close to losing control and Hermione promised herself she would do anything to see him break. Her fingers glided through the slickness between her thighs, her clit throbbing with need as she started rubbing it with three fingers.
She could feel the orgasm approaching so quickly she thought she might actually black out. “Ah, ah,” Professor Malfoy clicked his tongue and pulled out of her mouth, the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing. “Don’t cry, baby. I promised to fuck you raw and I never break my word.”
Hermione started to doubt it.
He helped her stand up, laughing when her knees buckled the second she was back on her feet. And when she kind of expected him to do something to humiliate her, he slid his arm under her knees and back and carried her to the other side of his office, laying her on his desk and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
As though not having more patience for torturing her, he ripped the buttons of his shirt open and tossed the ruined fabric onto his chair. Then, he slid his trousers down to his ankles and kicked them off along with his boots. She licked her lips, unable to resist the temptation, her focus solely on his cock still.
He didn’t bother with her clothes, he simply flicked his wrist and what was left of them—the ruined knickers, skirt and boots were gone before she could blink. “Hm, I think I’ll keep the knee socks,” he murmured as he spread her legs wide and positioned himself at her entrance. Goosebumps crawled across her skin like spiders when she saw his lustful gaze on her, the hunger in his eyes blazing like a thousand stars. “They make you look so innocent.”
“I’m not innocent,” Hermione supplied. “Professor."
“No,” he agreed. “You’re most certainly not.”
When he finally bucked his hips, Hermione was already on the edge of the table, ready to fuck him herself if she had to. Unsurprisingly, he had much more patience than she did, and she knew she would thank him for that later.
He moved slowly, filling her inch by inch and stretching her out to the point she didn’t think she could be stretched. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she wrapped them around his strong arms, her fingers sinking into the hard muscle. The smirk on his face told her he liked it, so she didn’t hold back when her nails dug deeper, threateningly close to breaking his skin.
“Wrap your legs around my back,” he told her when he was fully seated inside her. She could feel every throb of his cock, every flutter of her inner walls around him. He was a perfect fit for her, filling her like no one ever has before. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed when he finally began to move. He gave her slow, shallow thrusts at first, his hands gripping her hips with the last ounces of self-control. “So fucking petite I’m afraid I’ll break you in two, little witch.”
She squeezed his bicep. “You can’t break me, sir.”
It seemed to reassure him enough so that he would resume with the same pace he fucked her throat just a few moments ago. Each of his thrusts seemed to be harder, his cock driving deeper and hitting places she didn’t know existed.
Her head hit one of his inkpots repeatedly until it broke, spilling the black ink all over the desk and staining her skin. She didn’t care. He didn’t care.
“Oh my god, oh my—” she moaned, words blurring into one, when he fucked her faster. His balls hit her cunt with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the room and replacing the sound of blood pounding in her head.
One of his hands slid between her legs and if she thought she was a mess before, it was nothing compared to the moment when he pressed one of his rings to her clit, muttering some spell that made it vibrate. She was so overstimulated she wasn’t even sure if she didn’t come already.
And she didn’t know when or how it happened, but a desperate moan followed by her professor’s name slipped past her lips. “Draco, please—”
He growled and she opened her eyes to see him glaring at her with the most feral look she has ever seen on his face. His silver eyes were blazing, nostrils flaring, and at that moment she really thought he was a dragon rather than a man. “Keep moaning my name like that, little witch, and I’m going to pump you full with my load.”
A trickle of something warm dripped between her fingers when his words registered. Fuck. She didn’t mean to actually scratch him raw, but she couldn’t control her own body’s reaction. She—no boy she had ever been with would have agreed to something like this.
Hermione opened her mouth to apologise, but he grabbed her wrist and pressed his mouth to her hand, his tongue cleaning the bloody stain. “You really are a slut, aren’t you? Do you want me to fill that little cunt with my cum? Is that it?”
She expected him to be angry. She should know that a man like him, possessive to the brim, would rather be enticed by the idea, too. “I—fuck! ” The ring on her clit vibrated harder, causing her legs to tremble. Her words blurred into one, long, "Pleasepleaseplease—"
“What do you want?”
More tears dripped down her cheeks, the pleasure bordering on pain now. “I—Draco, please—”
“Fuck,” he gripped her hips harder, his touch bruising; punishing. “Tell me what you want from me or I will flip you onto your stomach and finish on your back.”
Hermione might have screamed in protest at that, and if she wasn’t so close to the edge, she would feel embarrassed by that. But she had no shame left, no guilt—only that desperate need to be filled by him, out of all people, by a fucking Malfoy. And she knew he needed it too, though he’d never suggest it himself.
She opened her eyes and pressed her heels to his lower back, forcing him to look at her before he lost himself in the pleasure. “I want you to fill me with— oh!”
His final thrust brought her over the edge, stars exploding in her vision as her body convulsed underneath him. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to hers and kissed her with so much passion she could come from the taste of his mouth only.
Her cunt spasmed around him as she whined and moaned and fucking cried. She couldn't believe it was possible to cry from an orgasm and yet there she was, vission blurring and cheeks wet from her tears. Professor Malfoy didn’t let go, though. He hoisted her leg over his hip, his other hand sliding under her back to lift her hips, the new angle making her dizzy.
She felt his breath against her neck, his mouth sucking at her throat and shoulders, surely leaving marks. “You sure?”
Hermione could only nod, her hands finding his hair blindly. He came with a low groan, his hips stuttering and every muscle of his abdomen tensing before he spilled his release inside her. His body shuddered with hers, pleasure so evident in each of his movements, in each touch, and for a second it was Hermione holding him in her arms—not the other way around.
Tears of joy and pleasure fell down her cheeks again, or maybe she was crying all the time, but she couldn’t stop—not when he made her feel so good. So accepted. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he murmured, kissing her tears away. His lips were gentle, the touch so featherlight she thought she imagined it. “I’m here.”
As if to reassure her he wasn’t going anywhere, he placed his forearms on each side of her chest, his large hands cradling her face and forehead pressed against hers. “I got you.”
“Oh God,” Hermione moaned again when she felt more warmth spreading in her core, coating her inner walls as his cock pulsed inside her cunt. “Draco—”
It took him a good minute to collect himself, frozen in that position when he covered her body like a dragon hoarding his treasure. When he finally came down from his high, he lifted his head and looked at her, a wicked smirk finding its way to his face again.
He kissed her slowly, gently. “Can you feel it?”
She frowned, trying to untangle her fingers from his damp hair. Only then did she realise it curled at the ends, no longer perfect and pristine. “Feel what?”
Draco pulled her up and slowly slid out of her. “My cum inside you.”
“I—” He captured her lips with another kiss before she could answer and plopped back in his chair not even a second later, dragging her onto his lap. “What are you—”
He cocked an eyebrow, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?” When she didn’t reply, he laughed darkly and pushed a finger inside her while his thumb worked her clit. He was going to make her come again and she was almost certain she would black out this time. “We can’t let anything slip, can we?”
Hermione would later blame her exhaustion on not figuring it out sooner. Or maybe the way Professor Malfoy’s fingers played with her clit when he positioned his cock at her entrance for the second time and helped her lower her hips until he was fully sheathed.
“You’re going to warm my cock like the good little girl that you are,” he whispered into her mouth before his lips wandered lower, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks on her collarbones. “While I get to explore and worship these pretty tits. Is that clear?”
She nodded, which apparently wasn’t enough for him anymore. “What did I say about using words? Do you want to be punished again?”
“No, sir.”
“There’s one more rule you have to follow starting today,” his fingers sank into her flesh and bucked his hips, making her shudder again. “Think you can do that for me?”
Although she didn’t know what he wanted, she was ready to agree to anything if it meant he’d fuck her again. She’d sell her soul to the devil if that’s what he asked of her. “What is it, sir?”
She felt him smile against her neck. “You are not allowed to wear any knickers to my classes. And keep the length of the skirt you teased me so much with,” his hips moved again. “Do you understand?”
Oh, she was in trouble. She was in so much trouble because she didn’t even hesitate before agreeing, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he said and closed his mouth around her bud, his smile growing with every moan that left her throat. “My good girl.”
Later, many hours later, when Professor Malfoy was really done with her, he took her to his room outside the castle. She didn’t recognise the place at first, but when they walked down to get something to eat, she realised it was the same tavern she ended up in right after she arrived in Norway.
“You live here?”
He shrugged, nodding at the barkeep as he motioned for the wooden bench in one of the secluded booths in the corner. “You could say that.”
Hermione pulled his cloak tighter around her shoulders, the chill from the outside reaching her even despite the massive fireplace that took up half of one of the walls. When the barkeep brought them hot tea with cloves and dried orange and beef stew, she didn’t even ask Professor Malfoy how he knew what to order.
“Care to elaborate?” She pressed, taking a sip of her tea. “I thought the teachers had apartments somewhere in the castle.”
He nodded, his fingers squeezing her thigh playfully. “They do. It just happens that I own this place and I prefer to—”
“You own this place?”
Professor Malfoy gave her that shit-eating grin she usually associated with Theo rather than him, reminding her he wasn’t actually as old as she thought he was when she first met him. “Miss Granger, I could own this entire town,” he said, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I might have burnt the Manor to ashes, but I kept a few galleons of my inheritance.”
She had a very good idea of what his few galleons meant but said nothing, deciding it wasn’t her place to ask him about the money he more than deserved for what his family had done to him. “So, that coin with the address—”
“It was supposed to be a joke,” he admitted. “I thought I’d have you run across the town, looking for a place so well hidden you shouldn’t be able to find it, and then maybe scare you a bit.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see if what people say about you was true.” She gave him a pointed look, not entirely thrilled by his confession and the fact that he must have heard all that bullshit spreading across the Wizarding World. “That you don’t take shit from anyone. That you are fierce,” his breath tickled her skin, “brave,” he added as he squeezed her leg again. “And that you have gorgeous tits.”
A snort escaped her throat and she shook her head in mock disapproval. “And how did I do compared to these rumours?”
Not taking his eyes off her, he took a sip of his drink and smiled wickedly. “I think we both know how you did,” he said. She clenched her legs together, capturing his hand between her thighs. “Fishing for praise, are we? You did wonderfully, Miss Granger. Outstanding, even.”
Her body flushed with heat but she rolled her eyes playfully, trying to pretend his words had no effect on her. Even though he seemed to know how much of a lie it was; even though he already knew her better than she knew herself. “And that was the only reason why you wanted me to freeze to death searching for your little tavern?”
“That,” he shrugged. “And I wanted to have some fun, too. You can imagine how boring it can be to be locked with a bunch of dimwitted students for the whole year.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring the fact that his fingers were now dangerously close to the hem of her knickers. “We have a very different idea of fun, Professor.”
He slipped one finger between her folds. Unsurprisingly, she was already wet. “Hm,” he hummed, his face a perfect mask of glorious boredom. “I think we have exactly the same idea of fun, little witch.”
Knowing that neither drinking nor eating was a good idea anymore, she set her mug down and gave him the sternest look she could muster. How stupid of her to assume that if it had worked on Harry and Ronald, it would work on him too.
Professor Malfoy leaned close until she could feel his aftershave mingling with the scent of cloves and citrus, his breath scorching her skin. Smirking, he dipped the tip of his finger into her core. “I can still feel myself inside you,” he whispered into her ear. “I think the next time, I’m going to fuck you right before our classes and watch my cum drip down your thighs when you try to focus on my lecture. What do you say?”
Hermione shook her head, sighing with mock disapproval. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then to her nose, then—finally—to her lips.
It didn’t matter what she said.
She would be sitting in his class, freshly fucked and with his cum spilling down her legs.
And she would love it.