it started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?

by monsterleadmehome

Summary:

Hermione Granger has had it up to here with Draco Malfoy's bullying and nonsense. She ought to slap him--she plans to as she walks over towards him, but then a better thought occurs to her. What if she kissed him instead?

The AU where Hermione kisses Malfoy instead of hitting him third year and everything changes.

Russian translation available here.

Notes:

• For weestarmeggie.

It's me again, back on my Dramione bullshit. This was a fun little AU that had been rattling around my head for a while and I thought I'd get it done for Draco's birthday. However, in the interest of posting on time, I have decided to make this a two-shot. Full on smut will commence in chapter 2!

Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are mine. For Meggie, who has been a great cheerleader through the process of me writing this.

Chapter 1

Third Year

Hermione frowned, watching Hagrid walk away dejectedly. Her heart broke for her friend, feeling quite helpless. She also hoped the Committee would listen to their appeal, otherwise Buckbeak was doomed. It had been a terrible day, all in all.

“Look at him blubber!” someone drawled, followed by a few snickers.

Hermione turned to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle loitering by the castle doors. Both Harry and Ron started walking again, so she joined.

“Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?” Malfoy continued. “And he’s supposed to be our teacher!”

She saw both Harry and Ron advance, but they were both always in trouble enough already. She veered out in front of them, making her way towards Malfoy. She had every intention of smacking him—or worse—when she got there, but then he had to open his big mouth, again.

“Oh, Potter’s going to sic his little Mudblood on me. I’m scared.”

And it hit her all at once. Violence would solve very little, even if it felt rather good in the moment. No, Malfoy needed a wake up call. He needed to grow up. “You should be, Malfoy,” she taunted as she strode right over to him, grabbed him by the front of his robes, and kissed him square on the mouth.

It was meant to disgust him, to challenge his notions about blood purity, and yes, to shut him up. But as Hermione watched through her very open eyes, his closed and he leaned into her a bit. She promptly let go and watched him stumble backwards, dazed. Was she imagining it or was there just a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips? Lips that had been much softer than she was expecting, if she were being honest.

He recovered quickly enough, making a show of wiping his mouth off and spitting on the ground. “Bloody disgusting. Let’s get out of here, boys.” Crabbe and Goyle followed him back towards the castle, but she didn’t miss the way Malfoy cast one last glance at her over his shoulder.

“That was brilliant, Hermione,” she heard Harry say behind her.

She had thought so, too, at first. But now, she wondered if slapping him was the better idea after all.

 

Fourth Year

Viktor Krum was a surprisingly adept dancer. Or maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising, since Quidditch was such a physical sport—and he did fly with a fair bit of grace. Hermione couldn’t lie, it felt good to be the envy of half the room for a change. The girls looked at her like they wished they were in her place, and Ron kept shooting sour looks at her as well.

Tough luck, he should’ve asked me first.

Well, maybe not just Ron. She occasionally let her eyes drift over to Draco Malfoy and his date, Pansy Parkinson, who looked just as miserable as he did. She had caught him staring at her several times, with a sort of longing in his eyes. Not in the put out, wet rat way that Ron was staring, but in a way that made her spine tingle and remember how soft his lips were.

Malfoy had been her first kiss. She hadn’t been thinking about it at the time, too intent on revenge and getting the best of him. But when she broke it down—as she was sometimes wont to do late at night—it hadn’t been terrible. It would’ve been a perfectly suitable first kiss had it been real. But it was a joke.

Just a joke.

“May I cut in?” Hermione looked up from her musings to see Malfoy standing there, asking her date if he could cut in. The nerve.

“Of course,” Viktor said. “I did not realize you and Herm-own-ninny were friends.”

“We’re not,” she answered, glaring at Malfoy. 

“I thought a gesture of inter-house unity might be nice for a change.” Malfoy shrugged.

“Go ahead. I vill get some punch.” Viktor bowed and left them alone.

Malfoy stepped up to her and held his hand out. She huffed, but took it anyway lest she look less than magnanimous in front of her peers. “You’re lucky Viktor is so accommodating.”

“It seems I am.” He smirked as he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her around the room. She tried to ignore how warm his touch was through her dress. “You look lovely tonight—I barely recognized you.”

She scoffed. “I suppose you think that’s a compliment.”

He shrugged, ignoring her comment. “Thought you’d be here with Weaslebee, not an international Quidditch star.”

“Think he’s out of my league, do you?”

Malfoy got a funny look in his eyes. “Actually I think you’re with someone on your level for a change. You must know the ginger menace is beneath you.”

Hermione got a weird fluttering feeling in her stomach, but chose to ignore it. “That’s the difference between you and me, Malfoy. I don’t see people as being on different levels. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect.”

He twirled her one last time and the song ended. He bowed just as Viktor was coming back into view but his eyes stayed on hers. 

Later, after she argued with Ron and was fleeing the Great Hall, a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into an alcove. “I would say, ‘I told you so,’ but it seems unnecessary now.”

She used her free hand to wipe a tear from her eye. “Let go of me, Malfoy!”

“First tell me why you kissed me last year.”

She wriggled and he released her hand so she shoved him—hard. “You’re asking about that now? It was revenge! I wanted you to be disgusted and maybe make you think about just why it is you hate me so much.”

“I don’t—hate you, that is. Not anymore. Maybe I never did.”

Hermione just looked at him confused. She was still so upset over Ron, but Malfoy was diverting her attention, and she found herself just a tiny bit relieved for that. “What are you playing at?”

“I want you to do it again.”

She laughed. “What, kiss you? You’re off your rocker.”

His eyes darkened. “Am I?” Then he grabbed her arms and held her still as he kissed her.

Hermione stiffened in shock, but her resolve quickly diminished and she melted into him. His lips were still soft and this time, with the warmth of his hands on her skin, she found she rather enjoyed the kiss. But it was over all too soon, and she pushed him again. “How dare you,” she spat.

She turned and left but heard him mutter, “You started this, Granger. Remember that.”

 

 

Fifth Year

It was hard to avoid a prefect, especially if one was also a prefect themselves. Hermione was finding this out the hard way as Malfoy kept showing up in her orbit. And lately, she began to wonder if this was on purpose. He had started out the semester bullying first years and taking points from Gryffindors whenever possible, but lately it seemed as if he had eased up. 

Even though he’d become head of Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad and had deducted points from both Harry and Ron, he’d yet to do so to her. She found it quite concerning. Speaking of Ron, she needed to have a chat with him. He wasn’t taking his duties as prefect seriously, and she was worried he might get his privileges revoked if he didn’t start shaping up. She’d have to pull him aside after their meeting, but if she didn’t hurry, she’d be late.

“Going somewhere, Granger?” Malfoy appeared next to her suddenly, his smirk even more annoying than usual.

“You know I’m headed to the prefects’ meeting, same as you, I’d imagine.”

“In a skirt that short? I might have to deduct house points.”

She stopped sharply and pivoted to him. “This is regulation length, and you know it!” She pointed her finger at his chest. “I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me, but I won’t let you—”

Her words were muffled as he pushed her into a nearby classroom and nearly attacked her lips with his. He shoved her up against the wall roughly, sliding his tongue inside her mouth when she gasped from the shock of it. Hermione’s brain was screaming at her to push him away and flag someone down, but her traitorous body had already given in, her fingers winding their way up into his silky hair, her legs parting as he shifted his knee between them.

“Been trying to get you alone all year,” he breathed as he came up for air.

“Why?” she croaked, her voice having nearly gone.

“I’m not sure. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he was kissing her again, his tongue almost violent inside her mouth. She didn’t hate it. Already Hermione could feel wetness between her legs and she hated the fact that Malfoy was the one making her body react this way. His thigh pushed against her center and she moaned.

She could feel his smirk against her mouth at that. He kept the pressure with his leg as her hips started to buck against him almost of their own volition. She could feel his hardness on her thigh and knew she needed to stop this before it went too far. Maybe he was used to shagging random girls in classrooms, but Hermione Granger was no hussy. And she couldn’t miss this meeting.

His deft fingers had pulled her shirt out from her skirt and were now inching up underneath. His touch was electric on her skin, but she pushed him off. “No.”

He held his hands up in surrender and nodded once, realizing it was over. “Wait two minutes before you follow me. I’ll make an excuse for you, so you don’t get in trouble.”

She nodded, tucking her shirt back in. He was nearly out the door when he stopped. “And Granger?” She looked up. “Steer clear of the seventh-floor corridor tomorrow.”

“Noted.”

He nodded again before leaving.

 

 

Sixth Year

Over the summer, Hermione struck up a brief romance with a Muggle boy in her neighborhood. It was short lived, though, as every time they snogged, she kept picturing Malfoy. It didn’t help that Draco was a much better kisser than the Muggle boy. She promptly broke it off and berated herself for her pesky lingering feelings for her supposed enemy. They hadn’t done anything else after the incident before the prefect’s meeting, but she swore he clutched her too tightly and breathed on her neck when the Inquisitorial Squad caught them and brought them to Umbridge. The memory still made her shiver.

Despite that whole mess, she thought Harry was being a bit paranoid. There was no way Malfoy was a Death Eater. Or maybe it was just her traitorous heart that hoped he wasn’t. How could he go and join Voldemort after what had transpired between them? She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the invading thoughts. A couple kisses didn’t mean anything. He probably still thought of her as a filthy Mudblood, in spite of his undeniable attraction to her.

She was roaming the second floor, not really patrolling, but mostly killing time when she heard it. It sounded like a faint cry. As she drifted closer to the girl’s bathroom got louder—typically she’d write it off as Moaning Myrtle feeling lonely and needing some attention, but it sounded definitively masculine. She slowly crept inside.

Draco Malfoy was crying over one of the sinks. Myrtle was hovering beside him, trying to help, but every time she’d reach out a hand to touch his shoulder, he’d shiver and she’d quickly recoil. “I just don’t know what to do,” he sobbed, hiccuping a little.

Hermione almost didn’t want to intrude. She knew he’d be furious once he saw her, but her heart broke a little inside at the sight of him like this. She stepped further into the room. “Could I help?” she asked softly.

He turned to look at her and let out a defeated sort of laugh. “Granger. How could you possibly help me?”

Feeling emboldened by his lack of animosity, she drew closer. “You never know unless you try,” she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed her wrist and spun her around until she was pressed up against one of the sinks and he was pressed up against her. “You make a good point.” Up close she could see the red in his grey eyes, the dark circles underneath. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping. “But there’s really only one kind of help I want from you.”

Then he was kissing her, and she cursed herself for giving in so easily—in truth, she’d been hoping to incite this kind of reaction from him. She missed this. Hermione moaned as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, much slower and more tenderly than before. He was in no hurry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he reached down to lift her onto the edge of the sink. 

Myrtle let out a squeal and flew into the nearest toilet.

Malfoy left her lips and started kissing down her neck, his hand inching up under her skirt to play with her inner thigh. Merlin, he was good at this. When his thumb grazed the gusset of her knickers, she let out a gasp. This seemed to snap them both back to reality, and he pulled back, hands still steadying her on the lip of the sink, both of their chests heaving to catch breath.

“You should stay away from me, Granger. I’m not worth saving.” He turned and stormed out.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” she called to his back. Cautiously, she brought a hand down to her knickers—they were soaked through.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Oops my hand slipped and I upped the chapter count. Sorry! Also... the smuttening has arrived! \o/

Hermione started following Malfoy. Technically if Harry found out, she could just say she was following up on his suspicions—which wasn’t entirely untrue. She knew the pointy prat was up to something, but it was more concern for his well being that had her so obsessed. That and she really wanted to snog him again… maybe more.

It was like an invisible string tethered her to him these days. Any time she caught sight of him, her feet would inextricably start moving in that direction. What was it, she wondered, this magnetic pull between them? He had to feel it, too. 

She wandered the seventh floor corridor, thinking she knew exactly where she’d go if she didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing. There were two girls she didn’t recognize standing up against the wall, almost as if keeping a lookout. One was a Hufflepuff, and one was a Ravenclaw, but the way they stood awkwardly made it look like they were uncomfortable in their own bodies. After a few minutes of observation—including the Ravenclaw girl reaching under her skirt to scratch her bum—Hermione concluded the pair had to be a polyjuiced Crabbe and Goyle.

She conjured a swarm of birds to go attack them and chuckled to herself as they both vacated their post, running off in the opposite direction. Then she paced in front of the wall. I need to talk to Malfoy, she concentrated on this one thought. After a minute or two, a door appeared.

Hermione had never seen the room like this before, piles and piles of junk everywhere. Old furniture, textbooks, a suit of armor—it was like someone’s garage times a million. She heard a clatter in the distance and followed the noise, creeping along the narrow pathways between all the stuff. She reached what appeared to be a clearing in the mountains of discarded items and saw the object of her search. Malfoy was hunched over a large cabinet of some sort, opening and closing it and casting nonverbal spells on it. She was actually quite impressed how easily nonverbal magic appeared to come to him.

She stepped closer, making herself known. “Is that a vanishing cabinet?”

She watched the muscles in his back tense before he slowly turned around. “Granger, how’d you get in?”

She twirled her wand, a smirk appearing. “It seems your goons are scared of birds.”

A flash of what appeared to be amusement crossed his face before he became impassive again. “I’m impressed. You’d make a great Slytherin, you know.”

She ignored him, brushing his arm with hers as she came closer to inspect the cabinet. “Are you trying to repair it?”

He sighed. “Yes, but it’s been giving me trouble.”

She shrugged. “I could help.”

“If you knew to what end I was fixing it, I think you wouldn’t offer.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Fine. If you must know, I’m worried about you. I know your marks have been slipping and it’s really no fun being top of the class if you aren’t giving me a run for my money. You haven’t been playing Quidditch, and you clearly haven’t been sleeping much.”

He banged his fist on the cabinet. “Why would you worry about me? I’ve been nothing but terrible to you.”

“That’s not entirely true…” she trailed off, starting to doubt herself. Why was she even trying?

“What, because we’ve snogged a few times? I’ve snogged loads of girls.”

She had figured that. She also knew he was trying to hurt her, to push her away. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s all it was. I’ll walk away and never talk to you again.”

He turned to her, eyes filled with anger. He looked into her eyes and opened his mouth—she prepared for the pain of what he would say. But then he faltered, and she saw the moment he broke. His eyes welled with tears. “I—I have to do this or he’s going to kill my family.”

“Who?” she whispered, though she already knew. Hermione’s heart shattered as Malfoy started slowly rolling up his sleeve. Inch by inch, he exposed his Dark Mark to her. Harry had been right after all. “Oh, Draco.” 

He looked up, eyes wide. It was the first time she’d called him by his first name to his face. His lower lip trembled as Hermione drew closer and placed her palm on his mark. “Did it hurt?” she asked somberly. 

He blinked a few times, as if unable to believe she was still there with him. “Yes,” he finally replied. “I don’t think it needs to, but I think he enjoys making it hurt.”

She knew she should run, go tell someone, but she stood rooted to the spot—to him. “I can see this isn’t what you want. Please let me help you.” Her hand found its way to his face, caressing his cheek, and he leaned into her touch like it had been forever since someone showed him just a bit of kindness. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Hermione pressed up on her toes, and then she was kissing him. It was soft and tentative, but his arms wrapped around her tightly, nearly crushing her to himself. They stumbled a bit as he backed her through the precarious piles and over to a threadbare sofa, which looked old but surprisingly free of dust. Draco pushed her into the piece of furniture till her knees buckled and she collapsed onto it.

She gasped. He crawled on top of her and just the hint of a smile played at his lips as his fingers slithered around her neck and into her curls. He kissed her again, slow and deep, his tongue gliding easily against hers. “Hermione,” he breathed. She decided she quite liked the way it sounded coming from his lips, all breathless and reverent.

“I thought you’ve snogged loads of girls,” she goaded, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She just needed to touch more of his skin.

He smirked. “Not that many. The problem, Granger, is that none of them are you.”

His lips blazed a trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and as far as her shirt would allow. But instead of asking for permission to undress her, he continued kissing down her clothed body. Hermione sucked in a breath as he ghosted over her abdomen, his fingers lifting her skirt up in small increments. He placed an exploratory kiss on the top of her thigh and she shuddered.

His grey eyes peered up at her from between her legs. “Has anyone ever kissed you here?” He pushed two fingers over her knickers then, as if she needed clarification of where he meant. He pressed right on her clit, making her moan.

Hermione shook her head. “No,” she managed at last.

Draco nodded, kissing her inner thigh lazily. “May I?”

This was it—if she crossed this line with him, there’d be no coming back. Who was she kidding? The line had been crossed a long time ago. She dreamed of this—not this exactly—but of stolen intimate moments with him. Hermione was tired of always being the one giving. She deserved to be greedy for once. “Please,” she urged him.

He sighed in what seemed like relief and hooked his fingers into her knickers. She had to raise herself up to help him tug them off, but then he threw her legs over his shoulders and dove straight in, his hot tongue easing right up the center of her folds. 

Every muscle in her body tensed up at this new sensation. Logically, Hermione knew this was something people did, but she’d heard so many whispers about fumbling fingers and overeager pricks. What Draco was doing was slow and deliberate. He was taking his time with her, as if she were a confection from Honeydukes. 

“Oh god.” She threw one arm over her eyes and tangled her other hand in his hair. It was unreal, the way he was making her feel, his tongue hot and insistent on her most intimate place. Sure, she touched herself every now and then, but it was nothing like this.

He paused for breath and threw a wink at her. “You’re so wet for me.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. “I think about you, a lot.”

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself here?” He emphasized here with two fingers on her clit. He started rubbing circles.

“Y-yes.”

“Excellent.” With that, he went back to it, alternating patterns with his tongue. 

Eventually he learned what she liked by the way she tugged on his hair. Then he breached her entrance with a finger, and she gasped. The way she stretched around just one of his long fingers, she secretly wondered how she’d be able to handle more. Draco paused. 

“Granger, are you a virgin?”

She nodded again, biting her bottom lip. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered.

He smirked again, and she would’ve slapped him if she wasn’t so close to climax. “Oh I intend to make you come. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised seeing as you’ve always got your knickers in a twist.”

“I do not—” but she was silenced by the return of his mouth to her cunt. He sucked on her bundle of nerves as he drove his finger deeper inside her, crooking it up to touch a spot inside she’d never been able to reach. It was too much—Hermione came with a wail, thighs shaking and fingers gripping his hair for dear life. “Fuck,” she cursed as her muscles continued to contract, and Draco’s tongue eagerly gathered up all her fluids.

Before she could gather her wits about her, he stepped out from under her thighs and positioned himself over her. He pulled his erect cock out from his pants and her eyes widened at the sight of it. “Open your blouse, I’m going to come on your tits.”

Hermione rushed to comply, her eyes never leaving Draco’s engorged shaft as he stroked himself faster and faster. With a grunt, he spilled onto her breasts, still encased in her sensible nude cotton bra. The fluid was shiny and she was about to run her fingers through it, when he muttered, “Evanesco.” It disappeared, and she fought the urge to frown.

He opened his hand to her and pulled her up from the couch. She braced herself for harsh words and another warning to stay away, but instead he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. He dangled her knickers in front of her and when she grabbed for them, he yanked them back, stuffing them in his pocket. “I think I’ll keep these. You realize that you’re mine now, right?”

Hermione looked up at him, expecting to see smugness or pride, but it was a fierce devotion that she found in his stormy depths. “Beg your pardon?”

“Malfoys do not share.” He ran a hand down her hair, her back, and squeezed her still bare arse, making her squeak. “I have been trying my hardest to resist this, but if we’re going to be together, there’s no halfway.” 

She understood then—the fire raged just as brightly inside him as it did her. She placed a hand on his chest and took a deep breath. Over the edge. “When this room isn’t full of junk, it can be whatever you need it to be.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

 

---

 

They met back at the Room of Requirement two nights later. When the door appeared and they went inside, it was an elegant bedroom with a roaring fireplace. The giant four-poster bed had red satin sheets and was flanked by ornate bookshelves.

“Fucking hell,” Draco mused as they wandered around the spacious room. “You think the castle does this for any couple looking for a nice place to shag?”

Hermione smiled, emboldened by his use of the word ‘couple,’ and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. It felt good to be able to touch him like this, just because she wanted to. He relaxed into her arms. “I don’t think it looks the same for everyone. Clearly the room knows we both like to read.” 

He chuckled and turned around to face her, taking her face in his hands. “Clearly. I don’t know why it chose to make the sheets Gryffindor red, though.” He looked at her questioningly, and she just shrugged. 

Then he was kissing her. Whatever ledge they had jumped off the other night, there was no going back. He took his time with her, running his hands all over her body as his tongue danced against hers. He swallowed every gasp and moan as if they were precious to him. She squealed when he lifted her and carried her over to the bed.

“Granger,” he moaned, his hand traveling up her skirt to trace circles on her inner thigh. “Dreamed about this for so long.”

“Me too,” she said with bruised lips in between his kisses. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think someone dosed them both with aphrodisiac potion—in reality, this had been coming for such a long time now.

He started undressing her, slowly unbuttoning her shirt to reveal a Slytherin green bra. She’d transfigured one of her nicest sets for the occasion. “Merlin, did you wear this just for me?” He ran his fingertips over her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they were hard.

"Yes." Hermione moaned. His lithe, long fingers were playing her body like an instrument. She leaned back, arching up as Draco found the zip on her skirt and pulled that down her body as well.

He placed lazy kisses up her legs, inching closer and closer to where she really needed him. “We’ll leave the knee socks on, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question, but she bit her lip and nodded, trying to be as sexy as possible in this moment. She’d never felt like this before. He tugged the gusset of her knickers to the side and slipped a finger into her heat.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.” He dropped his forehead to her thigh a moment, drawing languid circles on her clit. “I don’t deserve this.”

She shuddered. “Draco, I—I want it to be you.”

He looked up at her, the most puzzling expression on his face. “I—I’m a prat, I know that. I’ve done things you might find unforgivable. But you should know, it’s always been you. For me, it’s always been you.”

A flicker of something sparked inside, and Hermione tried to ignore it for the moment. It was easy to rationalize this as something all teenagers did, as sheer attraction, but the pang in her chest at his words told her a different story. She ran her fingers through his hair as he placed a gentle kiss on her abdomen. Then he was rolling down her knickers and slipping a finger inside her. He pumped her slowly, winding her up. She spread her legs wider, giving him better access as he added a second finger, trying to stretch her a bit. “Ah,” she moaned, feeling him touch places inside her no one ever had before.

“Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, just different. Your fingers are so much longer than mine.”

He smirked and began stroking her inner wall, making her squirm. “Oh my god.”

“Please, Draco is fine,” he teased, pressing his thumb into her clit.

“You arse!” she yelped, giggling a bit before she was lost to incoherent babbling again. “Oh, I’m going to—”

“Come for me, Hermione.”

She did, her fingers twisting in the sheets as his continued to fuck her through the waves of pleasure. Then she watched in awe as he slid off his trousers and pants, though his shirt stayed on. “Please,” she said, gripping his sleeves. “Take it off.”

“I don’t want you to see it.” He averted his gaze, looking at her navel. 

“I want all of you, Draco. Even the messy parts.”

He looked at her then and leaned forward. “You do it then.”

With shaky fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, spreading her hands over his pale chest, smooth and hard like marble. He helped her and she pulled it off completely. The Dark Mark was ugly and black on his alabaster skin. She hated it. But she had a feeling he did, too. She ran her fingers over it lightly and then kissed his arm. He let out a little surprised noise. “We’ll figure this out, together.”

It was as if he had become someone else entirely once he let down his guard. His eyes held such fear but also hope. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

He smiled and pulled her in for another kiss. “Take off your bra, Granger. I need to see those perfect tits.”

She unhooked the garment and let it fall to the bed, green contrasting against the crimson sheets. Her nipples were erect and nearly begging to be touched. Draco didn’t leave her hanging, pushing her down into the mattress and taking one of her peaks into his mouth. “Fuck,” she swore as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. It felt so good.

He lavished her breasts with attention as he nestled between her thighs. She could feel his hard cock on her core as he ground into her and suddenly she felt so empty. “I’m ready,” she whispered. “You can take me now.”

“Impatient are we?” His smirk was back as he grabbed his wand and muttered a quick spell over her abdomen. It glowed for a second before dissipating, and she felt warm there. Then he brought his length down to her folds, running the head back and forth a few times to coat himself in her juices. “Still so wet,” he marveled as he bumped her clit.

Then he was pushing inside. Hermione’s fingers tightened their hold on his back as he took his time, stretching her out. The glide was easy since she’d already come once, but it was still work to accommodate him, as big as he was. “Oh,” she panted.

He looked at her to make sure she was still alright. “Almost there.”

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes as he shoved in to the hilt. She’d never felt so full before. “Draco,” she murmured as he started to move. It was glorious.

“Fuck, Granger. Your cunt is amazing. So tight, so good.” He kissed her again as his hips moved against hers, his mouth blazing a trail down her jaw and eventually latching onto her neck as he thrust again and again.

So this was sex. The scholar in her wondered if it was like this for everyone. She had heard horror stories of first times, but beyond the initial pinch when he first entered her, Hermione had experienced virtually no pain. Instead she was gasping, her mind going nearly blank every time Draco’s thick cock dragged against her sensitive walls. She felt utterly debauched, but also intensely satisfied. She could see how this might become addicting.

She crossed her legs behind him, her heel now digging into his arse as he fucked her. She could feel the tension coiling inside her again, careening towards inevitable climax. Draco looked up at her, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in.

“You like it?” he asked. “You like my cock?”

“Y-yes,” she stammered. 

“Are you close?”

She nodded and he grinned, moving his hand back down to where they were joined. The sensation of him stroking her little bundle of nerves in tandem with his cock driving in and out of her was nearly too much. She lasted a few more strokes before she came apart, fingernails grasping at his back and her moans piercing the air.

“I can feel you coming apart on my cock. Fuck.” It was the last coherent thing Draco managed before he dissolved into grunting and groaning, his thrusts erratic as he followed her into bliss.

Hermione could feel him pulsing lightly inside her and then softening. She wanted to do this again and again. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, a real genuine thing with bright teeth and lines around his eyes. 

She brushed several sweaty platinum strands back from his face. “Yeah.”

He pulled out and her body mourned the loss, but then he turned and wrapped her in his arms so her back was to his chest. “Will anyone notice if you don’t come back tonight?” His lips tickled her ear.

She smiled. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I want to sleep for a bit. Then I want to wake up and do this again.”

“Mmm. Sounds like a plan.”

He kissed her shoulder as they drifted off.

Chapter 3

Seventh Year

It was hard to be thankful for things when you were camping in the forest with two teenage boys. Hermione tried to lull herself to sleep with a short list. She was thankful that her parents were safe in Australia. She was thankful that she had food in her belly and a roof over her head, even if it was made of canvas. And she was really thankful that Draco Malfoy was so good at Protean Charms. She checked the ring on her finger as she did every night before she went to bed. The engraved words read, Safe. Alive.

She enchanted it to say the same back and then, Miss you. She waited several moments before seeing it change. Miss you, too.

It hadn’t been easy, convincing Draco to go to Dumbledore, especially since his task was killing the wizard himself. Had it been anyone else talking to Draco, it almost certainly wouldn’t have worked. But after their first time together, he would’ve done anything for her. In the end, the late headmaster was one step ahead, as always. He had already known about the mission and had every intention of sacrificing himself to the cause—just not at Draco’s hand. He had kept her fuzzy on the details, but they had still let the Death Eaters into the school, though great care was taken to make sure no one got hurt. And Fenrir Greyback conveniently got trapped inside the vanishing cabinet, then somehow stunned in the ensuing scuffle. Pity.

Now Draco was trusted in Voldemort’s inner circle, but he passed on what information he could to Hermione, who in turn shared it with the Order. She was the only one he’d allow to be his contact, and she wasn’t even sure who else knew about him being a spy. It was a great risk he was taking, but the only thing he valued more than his own life, was hers. He had told her on their last night together, drenched in sweat and lips at her throat. 

“You’re mine, Hermione. And Malfoys always protect what’s theirs.”

She gasped as he thrust in deep. He was taking her from behind, bent over a cheap Muggle motel bed. She had asked him to meet her after she had packed up and erased her parents’ memories. They’d been fucking away their pain for nearly three hours straight. The sheets were off white and scratchy. Her fingers clawed at them haphazardly. “But who will protect you?”

His hand wandered around her front to play with her clit. Not hard enough to make her come, but just light enough to keep her on the edge. “Doesn’t matter.”

She craned her neck as much as possible to see him. “It does to me.”

With that, he withdrew, and she was scared he wasn’t going to continue fucking her. Which felt a bit selfish as she’d already come five times that night. But he turned her around roughly and kissed her so hard, he drew a bit of blood from her bottom lip. “There’s nothing as important as you. You got that? If I die, the war goes on. But you are important. Not just to me. Potter needs you. The Order needs you.”

Her eyes widened as he lifted her up and tossed her on the bed. Then he was stretching her legs up to her chest and driving back in rougher, more punishing than before. It burned in the best way, from the inside out. Her whole body was aflame for him.

Hermione was pulled back to the present by Harry telling her it was her turn to take watch. She nodded and left the tent, wondering if she could slip her hand inside her denims and get herself off quickly. It had been so long since she’d had Draco inside her—part of her felt like a junkie without a fix. 

She found a particularly thick tree to sit against and angled her body away from the tent. The wards should prevent anyone from seeing or hearing anything she was about to do, but she also didn’t want Harry or Ron to come upon her rubbing one out. She let her mind wander back to that last night with Draco as she unbuttoned her jeans and shoved her hand roughly inside, beneath the elastic of her knickers to the thatch of hair in between her legs.

He had eaten her out for what seemed like hours, his warm tongue tracing patterns on her clit. Hermione sighed, finding her slit already damp. She pushed into her folds and found her bud already quite swollen, remembering the way it felt when Draco had sucked it into his mouth. She had asked with a laugh, What are you doing? He replied, Spelling my name. Letting everyone know who this cunt belongs to.

It didn’t take long, imagining the way his long fingers curled inside her to touch her g-spot, the way his cock filled her to bursting. Hermione put her other hand over her mouth to keep from making noise as she rubbed herself harder, little circles on her slick clit driving her closer to the edge. She bit down on her own thumb as she came, head knocking back into the tree and legs trembling with need.

She missed Draco so much.

Her eyes opened and then widened as she saw movement in the forest. Snatchers. Damn it all, she shouldn’t have wasted those few precious minutes. She would’ve seen them sooner if she hadn’t had her eyes closed. She stood and zipped up her pants as one of the men drew closer.

“What is it, Scabior?” One of the others asked.

“I smell something—interesting.”

 

---

 

A tear squeezed out from Hermione’s eye. She was thankful she’d had the good sense to shoot that spell at Harry’s face before they’d been brought to Malfoy Manor. Even now, she was so proud of Draco for not caving. He’d been adamant he didn’t know who they were even when Bellatrix quirked her dark eyebrows and said, “Even the Mudblood?”

“I don’t know. She’s not familiar to me.” His face was calm and composed. He must be an Occlumens—she hadn’t even known. He never had his walls up when they were in private.

But Occlumency could only get one so far. She noticed the crack in his mask when Bellatrix pulled out the knife. “I know you’re lying, you little Mudblood bitch. Let’s see if we can’t cut it out of you.”

Draco’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and she saw his fingers twitch like he was trying to reach out for her. She caught his gaze and gave an infinitesimal shake of her head. It’s not worth blowing your cover.

But then the blade pierced her skin. Hermione was unable to contain the way she shrieked from the intense pain. It was a magic blade and clearly the insane witch above her had spelled it somehow to hurt worse. She dragged it down her arm in a line and raised to stab it in again, glee in her unhinged eyes, but then—

“No!” Draco screamed as he whipped into action. Hermione felt herself being tugged away and the familiar sensation of Apparition as they landed back in the dungeons. 

“Why did you do that?” she screamed. “Now your cover's blown.”

“She was torturing you, Granger! I wasn’t going to stand and watch.”

Hermione turned and looked at all the surprised eyes in the room, her arm still in Draco’s hand, blood trickling down her skin. He let her go for a moment and waved his wand, all the cell doors opening. “We don’t have much time, and I can’t explain now—but we need to get out of here.”

Dobby appeared with a crack, and Draco looked quite stunned to see him. Harry turned to the elf. “Did you get them there?”

“Yes, Dobby did as Harry Potter said.”

“Good. Now take the rest of us.”

 

---

 

Shell Cottage was quaint but rather lovely. Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she looked at all the beautiful sea shells embedded in the walls, trying to block out the sound of everyone yelling at each other.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?” The question finally cut through her haze—Harry’s voice.

“Relax, Potter. I’m on your side.” Draco was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, right—” Ron started.

Hermione shook herself out of it. “He’s telling the truth.”

“What?” Several people said in unison and turned to her.

“Well, he got us out safely, didn’t he? Rescued me from Bellatrix…” When no one interrupted, she continued. “Draco and I went to Dumbledore last year—”

“He tried to kill Dumbledore!” Harry spat.

“Would you let me finish?” Hermione put her hands on her hips, shooting him a glare. “You Know Who tasked Draco with killing Dumbledore, yes, but I convinced him to go to the headmaster for help. He was already dying, Harry. He knew about the mission and had always planned to die at some point. Yes, Draco left with the Death Eaters that night, but he’s been passing vital information to me and the Order ever since.”

Harry looked shocked and a little bit betrayed. She could see him working through the information. “How?”

“Protean Charm. This ring I’ve been wearing.” Hermione held it up for his inspection. Draco held up his hand showing the matching ring.

Harry nodded, looking back and forth between her and Draco. “Why? Why would Malfoy choose to risk his own safety to help us?”

“Because…” Hermione trailed off, blushing furiously.

Draco came over and took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Because I’m in love with Granger.”

Hermione blanched, her heart beating rapidly. They had never said they loved each other—even though it was true. She loved him, there was no denying it. But for him to just say it in front of everyone. “You are?” she asked, looking up at him.

He softened, looking into her eyes. “Of course, I—Merlin, have I not told you, Hermione?” He wavered on his feet for a moment, as if ready to lean down for a kiss before thinking better of it.

“I don’t believe this,” Ron interjected, kicking the dirt. “You expect us all to believe that after years of teasing and torment, you all of a sudden fell for her? What about her blood—huh, Malfoy?”

Harry crossed his arms. “I agree with Ron. I’m finding this all a little convenient.”

Draco sighed and pointed his wand to the sky. “Expecto Patronum.” Light burst forth from the tip and an otter appeared, dancing through the air. Hermione noticed with some consternation that his otter was not only bigger, but more graceful than hers.

Everyone watched as the otter scurried around all of them, none more surprised than Dobby who turned his wide eyes to his former master and managed a small, encouraging smile. Even Harry’s jaw dropped a little, probably more surprised that Draco could even conjure a Patronus than by what animal he produced. “And you—you feel the same way, Hermione?” Harry pushed his glasses back up on his nose, his face having mostly returned to normal by now, though it was a brilliant shade of red.

Hermione’s head was reeling. She had never seen him cast a Patronus before, but warmth filled her chest realizing the depth of his feelings for her. Her hand was still in Draco’s, and she gave him a slight squeeze. “I do.”

“Okay,” Harry shrugged. “Good enough for me. Let’s get inside.”

 

---

 

Hermione couldn’t sleep. The small cottage was much too packed for her liking, and she was sharing a room with Luna because both Harry and Ron balked at the idea of leaving her and Draco alone together. Like they would actually do that under Bill and Fleur’s roof. Honestly.

She quietly padded out into the hall and down the steps. Bill was still awake, sipping tea in the kitchen, but he just gave her a nod as she slipped out the front door. The moon was bright against the inky black sky. Waves crashed on the shore, putting her at ease instantly. She saw another figure down by the water and knew immediately by his posture and gait who it was.

“I missed you,” she said, slipping her hand into Draco’s as she joined him on the beach. They were both barefoot, and the icy chill of the water as it lapped at her toes made her feel alive.

He turned to her, silver eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Not as much as I missed you.” His lips crashed into hers, making up for months of separation, clutching her tightly to himself.

She opened to him instantly, greeting his eager tongue with her own. It had been far too long. Her fingers twisted in his shirt as she kissed him for dear life. “I love you,” she whispered. “So much.”

He pushed strands of her hair back, but it was useless. The breeze was tossing her locks every which way. “I love you, too, Hermione.” He turned her to the left. “See that rocky cliff over there? I think it might afford us some privacy, yeah?”

Catching on to his train of thought, she agreed and pulled him as she took off towards it. It was like a race. She dropped his hand, sprinting out ahead of him and giggling. She had nearly reached the rocks when a pair of strong arms grabbed her around the middle and lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a haphazard circle as she shrieked with glee. “Draco, put me down!”

“Never!” he shouted, flinging her over his shoulder and taking a few giant strides till they had reached the cliff. Only then did he set her back on her feet and kiss away whatever breath she had left. “It feels so good to touch you again,” he murmured against her neck as his hands roamed her body.

Hermione moaned in agreement. “We shouldn’t be away too long or someone might come looking for us.”

He chuckled. “Way to take all the romance out of it, Granger.”

She stomped her foot in the sand. “Stop being a prat and fuck me already.”

“As you wish.” He grabbed for the waistband of her denims and started unbuttoning them roughly, yanking down the zip and pulling both the jeans and her knickers down in one fell swoop.

She squealed at the rapid movement but stepped out of her clothes quickly and reached for his trousers as he stood, freeing his erection swiftly. She pumped him several times. “I’ve missed your cock.”

“I’ll bet you have,” he taunted, stepping into her and pressing her against the smooth part of the rock, nipping her ear and shoving two fingers inside her dripping cunt. “Always so wet for me.”

“Fuck,” she growled as he teased her g-spot, then brought his fingers up to swirl around her clit.

“I missed your dirty mouth, too.” He kissed her again while he continued to tease her. Then when she was practically on edge he lifted her up against the rock and slid inside.

They both groaned at the sensation. It had been too long since their last intimate moment—Hermione had never felt so full. Draco kissed her again as he started to fuck her in earnest. His lips trailed down her jaw and neck, hot pants of his breath tickling her delicate skin. “Missed... your perfect... cunt.” He growled. “You take me so well.”

Hermione held on for dear life as each thrust moved her up and down against the rocky wall. She’d likely have bruises in the morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It felt too good. Her muscles tightened around his cock, and she could already feel the fire inside reaching a fever pitch. She was close.

Draco bit down on her shoulder as he hit her particularly deep, causing her to cry out. The change in angle also increased the pressure on her clit and in a few more strokes, she was over the edge, burying her head in his neck to muffle the noise as she came.

He adjusted her against the stone, holding her firmly so he could fuck her faster. Then his hips were stuttering against hers, and she felt him still inside her as he emptied himself. He made a guttural sound low in his throat, one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard. She was so gone for him.

He pulled out slowly and set her down, massaging her thighs so she wouldn’t cramp up from the prolonged time in that position. Then he pulled her close and kissed her temple. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

 

---

 

The constant sounds of explosions reminded Hermione of New Year’s Eve celebrations. Only these weren’t fireworks, they were spells. And they were destroying Hogwarts, the only home she had left. Then it all stopped. Voldemort gave Harry an ultimatum. She knew this time he’d take it after what they saw in the Pensieve. Snape’s memories.

She understood immediately what he intended to do and hugged him before he left. Now she was tearing through the castle. Where is Draco? Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails in the layers of soot and ash that coated her skin. She found him by nearly running into him as she turned a corner. “Draco!”

“There you are, Granger!” He tugged her closed and pulled her into the nearest alcove—the same one he had kissed her in after the Yule Ball. “We got separated, and I started to panic. Don’t leave my sight again.”

She cried into his shirt. “He’s done it. Harry went to go face Voldemort.”

Draco sighed, stroking her hair. “We knew this was inevitable. Maybe it’ll work out—sacrifice doesn’t always have to equal death.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You—you’re right.”

“Wow, did you hurt yourself—admitting that? Seems like it took a lot out of you.”

“Shut up,” she retorted, smacking his chest.

He chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. “In case anything happens, I need you to know: I love you, Hermione Granger. And everything that’s happened since has been completely worth it. I wouldn’t change one thing.”

Hermione looked up at him, seeing the pure devotion in his eyes. She felt the same way. “I love you, too, Draco Malfoy.”

“Now let’s go kill that blasted snake.”

 

 

Eighth Year

When one was responsible for saving the wizarding world, one necessarily didn’t need further schooling. Both Harry and Ron had been relieved to not have to go back to Hogwarts and enter Auror training straight away.

Hermione, on the other hand, wanted a normal school year. She’d really missed out by not attending the previous year and looked forward to late nights in the library with fresh ink and feet upon feet of parchment. It was just her way. Luckily, her boyfriend felt the similarly. Draco wanted something more quiet and normal after a year of living with Death Eaters and Voldemort himself all while relaying information to the Order and fearing he'd be found out. 

So really, neither of them necessarily wanted the added stress of being Head Girl and Head Boy. There would be meetings and patrols and more work in general. But it also meant private quarters away from the other students. Did McGonagall really not know they were dating?

“I’m in,” Hermione said, smoothing her skirt as she sat in the Headmistress’ office.

“Me too.” Draco caught her gaze and gave her a cheeky wink.

Hermione was silent all the way to the Head dorms, her loafers clicking softly against the stone floor. A private room. Just her and Draco. The whole year. She gave the password and slipped inside, admiring the space. 

“Home sweet home,” Draco quipped. 

Hermione just nodded, running her hands over the marble countertops in the kitchenette. There was a fireplace and an overstuffed sofa—she could just imagine the two of them curled up on winter nights reading by firelight. It was almost like preparation for the future. Something she hadn’t dared to let herself think about until recently.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m just thinking how this space looks almost like a flat, like a home.”

He spun her around and picked her up, setting her on the countertop and standing between her legs. “And is that something you’d want with me—a home?”

She nodded, and he smiled broadly, one of those rare genuine full grins with teeth. He kissed her soundly and rested his forehead against hers. “And what are you thinking about?” she asked.

“All the different places in this dorm that I’m going to fuck you.” His gaze was dark and predatory when he opened his eyes.

On another day she might have slapped him or told him to be serious, but the heat was already coiling low in her abdomen and she could feel her knickers growing damp. She spread her legs a little wider. “Let’s get started, then.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed the ride! I had a lot of fun writing this one. Make sure you're subscribed to be notified of future Dramione stories.