Chapter Text
Every word of the prosecution should have held his attention, but Granger was searing him with a lustful stare so relentless that he felt held up by her eyes. In a room full of life sentences, looking at her was the only thing that felt like a choice.
When recess was finally called, he listened to the beat of her behind him as he walked through a door labeled 'Lavatory of the Accused.' The Ministry’s literal finest.
She didn't hesitate. Silencing charm. Locking spell. Heavy slide of the bolt, like a gavel.
"Kiss me, Malfoy," she whispered.
Too fast.
"A bit risky, even for the Golden Girl," he drawled.
“You don’t have a wand," she said, holding out a vial labeled 'Alowash'.
The Draught of Absolute Surrender.
The Ministry had made even its possession a one-way ticket to Azkaban decades ago.
Suspicious.
“You want to play at submission, Granger? In the middle of my trial for war crimes?"
"I want to stop pretending. I’ve been sexually attracted to you for years."
The bluntness caught him. Such things were said in glances and double meanings, not stripped bare; that was too dangerous. He searched her face, his eyes tracking the way her large pupils swallowed the golden brown of her irises. It looked like her. Sounded like her.
But it felt like a trap.
Maybe it was. But he could still feel the weight of her pinned against him in Umbridge's office back in fifth year. The smell of that hair. The urge to ruin her. It had lived in his body for years.
Feeling exposed, he sneered, “Where did you get it?”
“Australia.” Something crossed her face before she shut it down. “Do you want to take it or not?”
"When was the last time you touched me?"
"Fifth year, Umbridge's office,” she exhaled.
No, that won't work, what if they're a legilimens?
"What classes did we share?"
"You want a list? Fine. If that’s what it takes for you to stop acting like a paranoid prick and do what we both know you want."
She began to count them off on her fingers, her voice bossy.
"Potions in the dungeons for six years, where you spent more time sabotaging my cauldron than looking at your own. Herbology in Greenhouse Three. You complained about the dragon dung compost every Tuesday for five years."
She stepped closer, forcing him to hold his ground.
"Care of Magical Creatures for three years. You kept going to practice spite. And you were mean to the Hippogriff because you were jealous.
"History of Magic. Defense against the Dark Arts," she said, raising the last two bent fingers on one hand.
She reached out, her palm resting flat against his chest. He could feel her pulse. It was fast. Too fast. She's nervous?
"Transfiguration. You were the only one who could keep up with me when McGonagall started the N.E.W.T. curriculum. We were the only two in the front row of Arithmancy who didn't need the remedial charts."
It was her, and of course, that wasn’t enough to prove that her intentions were pure. He never trusted anyone on principle. Only idiots trust anyone but their own mother; even that had always felt like a defeat, a weakness he couldn’t extract because he would have no foundation. But these days, even his mother couldn’t help him feel a sense of solidity. His entire structure had already crumbled. No, he didn’t trust Granger. But he had been balancing on a shard for so long, he couldn’t help but want to fall into her.
And it is my birthday.
He swallowed nervously and asked, “Have you taken Alowash before?”
“No. Have you?”
“No. And you trust me enough to take it with me?"
"Yes," she said, her voice a low rasp.
He almost said I don’t believe you, the question of why burning at the back of his throat, but he caught himself. He wasn’t about to give her the chance to reconsider. “Are you sure?” he asked instead.
“Yes. I’m sure.” She stepped even closer into his space. The scent of an alpine meadow filled his nostrils.
"Alright, Granger. I’ll take it with you.” Feeling a surge of fear, he added, “But let’s not be in such a rush to use it. Not at first."
She made a small, disapproving sound.
Merlin. What possessed you to trust me with it?
Doesn't matter.
He put on an arrogant smirk. "Don't get ahead of yourself. If we find it suits us later, we’ll take it. I’m not in the habit of rushing my pleasures."
“Fine.” She licked her lips, and the movement broke his hesitation.
He pressed the base of his thumb against the sharp curve of her cheekbone before slowly easing his fingers into the wild, honeyed thicket of her hair.
Merlin. He was going to do it. He was actually going to fuck Hermione Granger.
The thought of his trial passed by the back of his mind, a reminder of the world waiting outside this room. She was supposed to testify after the recess. The Great Brightest Witch of Her Age, standing before the Wizengamot to decide if he was worth saving or if he belonged in Azkaban. He shouldn’t be touching her. He couldn't trust a single word that came out of her mouth, and yet, he still wanted to drown in her. He wanted to get lost in the heat of her and forget that his life was a burning wreck.
Logic was for people who weren't this cornered. Right now, he was too far gone to care about anything other than the way she was looking at him.
She exhaled, her head falling into his palm as his lips reached her neck. He pulled her up until she was on her toes on top of his feet. He licked her ear and felt her thrust. Plunging his tongue inside produced a shattering moan. He lifted her; she laced her legs around him. Their clothes vanished.
“Granger, what the--” he started.
“They’re not vanished, I’ll bring them back after. Unwrinkled."
Impressed, he placed her on the sink counter and started to work his lips down her body.
She pushed him away, jumped off the counter, spun around, and bent over with a hint of a challenge.
He caught his own intensity in the mirror, a mixture of hunger and something far more possessive. Searching her reflection for confirmation that she didn’t want him to go down on her, he concluded that she was hungry and impatient.
Trembling with anticipation, his hands found her hips, slid up her glorious back, and weaved under her. He gripped her shoulders as he pressed his body against her, grounding her.
His gaze locked into hers in the mirror.
She pushed against him.
Morgana’s mercy. He had been stalling. Overwhelmed, he pressed against her, the heat searing him. His education in bedroom propriety made him say, "Merlin, I've spent almost half my life wondering if you taste as good as you look. Let me taste you first.” It was true, of course.
She arched and made a slow circle with her hips, coating him in her, and reached back to spread herself.
He lifted off to see, his palms sliding to hold her cheeks firmly.
She reached down, her fingers closing around him with a boldness that nearly stole his breath. With a slow tilt of her hips, she slicked him, a low sound escaping her throat. He watched, mesmerized and half-undone, as she guided him higher upward, positioning him at the very center of her tight puckered hole.
His eyes jumped up to meet her gaze in the mirror.
She opened her mouth as she pressed against him.
She wants THIS?
A wandless lubricating spell hummed through the air. His tip slightly fell in. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Salazar, what are you doing?
She slowly pushed against him harder, millimeters in and out.
Merlin’s molten earth.
He stepped his feet out to balance himself for the journey up ahead and reached up to slowly caress her back as he breathed with her.
When he finally drove in all the way, they both gasped, the air leaving the room. He felt the base of his shaft tighten, a low growl vibrating his chest.
"Look at me," she commanded.
His eyes snapped to hers in the mirror. Her mouth was falling open as he pushed in and out slowly, teasing them both.
“Tell me...” she trailed off.
He looked further into the mirror and could see her tits caressing the counter. “My God,” he exhaled, looking down at her spreading herself on him. Her body was perfect. “God, Granger. You’re... a goddess,” he barely managed.
“Tell me I’m a mudblood.”
He stilled and stared into her in the mirror. After retrieving himself from shock, he asked, “You want that?”
“Yes, please,” she moaned and slowly bounced herself against him.
Circe’s cup.
She’s finally snapped.
Unbelievable.
Fuck it.
“You’re a filthy little mudblood, aren’t you?”
He felt her contract.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you? Being good for my pureblood cock?”
She made a strangled moan, gasping, “Yes.”
Why is she still spreading herself?
He steadied her arms as he pounded, “..taking my Pureblood cock in your mudhole...”
Her eyes rolled up. Circe’s wicked ruin.
He could feel her wetness bouncing on his balls. She was perfect.
“You’re drenching me in your desperate, filthy juices, aren’t you, Mudblood?"
He released her arms and slowly bent over, kissing her shoulder.
"Choke me," she panted.
Without hesitation, he slid his palms up to frame her face, thumbs and fingers gently pushing into both sides of her neck, avoiding her windpipe. He held her as he pounded into her.
In the mirror, he watched her body glide on her tits.
He pulled them upright, the eye contact in the mirror electric, grounding in a moment that had been years in the making. The air in the room was still humming, charged in everything they had never said.
"You're brilliant, Granger," he murmured against her ear, staring at her hard, blushing nipples.
In the mirror, her expression was filled with intent. Intent for what, he couldn't tell. They got lost in each other's eyes until he saw something in her open mouth.
He looked closer. It was the tip of his cock.
What?
He slowed down and pushed harder. He felt it under his hands in her throat. He had felt it the entire time, thinking he was just letting his imagination run wild. She tried to close her mouth, but the tip of his cock brushed against her lips from the inside of her mouth.
Realization dawned. The Alowash draught was already taking hold of her. She hadn't waited.
He froze.
"You already took it," he whispered, a sense of urgency crashing over him. "We don't have time!" he snarled. "The Wizengamot will be reconvening!" He felt her tighten around him.
She tried to speak but couldn’t, his cock in her way.
He slowly pulled back, watching himself move down her throat as he inched his way out of her.
"I have a time-turner," she murmured, her voice sounding as if it were coming from a great distance.
“Of course you do; anything for the Golden Girl,” his grip tightening instinctively on her arms, his own resolve crumbling in her ruthlessness.
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, clenching him.
“Do you know how to use it?”
"Malfoy," she whispered, tilting her head back to look at him. "What do you think?"
He felt impressed and cornered at the same time. She pushed back, and he felt himself move deeper into her as his tip moved up her throat. He felt her sucking on it in her mouth until he pushed in further, and it popped out past her lips.
Fuck. He pulled back and did it again.
She licked it and purred.
Merlin’s blood. Let the world burn.
He felt himself vibrate in her throat and ribcage.
“Harder,” she panted the next time he pulled back down her throat.
He pushed hard until his shaft emerged from between her lips.
She shook and relaxed.
Salazar’s utter ruin.
As he pounded into her, he decided that at this point in his life, he was ready to fuck it all. He reached over to where she had set the vial on the counter, noticing now that it was only half full. He uncorked it and drank. Nothing changed, but he decided he wanted to see what it was like to suck himself through her mouth. It would be better if she were facing him. He looked into her eyes in the mirror and started slowly pulling out of her.
She squinted in shock.
He slowed. “Have you ever done this before, Granger?”
“No.”
Wight Circe. Why is she giving me this?
He stopped moving and cast his own wandless lubrication charm. “I’m going to push in to help relax you. Then you’re going to squeeze me out, ok?”
“How?”
“The same way as when you use the toilet.”
She looked perplexed and curious as she nodded.
He pushed in gently, then said, “Push”. As he felt her squeeze him out, he squeezed her against his torso, smelling her hair. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” Her face looked confused in the mirror.
He turned her around and lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter.
“Is it going to work like this?” she asked.
“The potion? I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”
“The position.”
“Yeah, it should feel really good for you.”
“Why don’t you lie back onto the counter, and I won’t do anything without telling you first?”
He cast a wandless cushioning charm on the counter, and she dipped in a little as she leaned back. He reached under her knees and pressed her legs up. Her beautiful cunt was glistening. “Can I kiss it?”
“Uh, I guess.”
He dropped to his knees, swallowed her juices, and latched onto her clit. She moaned and bucked until she orgasmed. A vision of an alpine stream danced into his vision. He released her. “I’m going to cast another lubrication charm, ok?”
She nodded with closed eyes.
She was surprisingly calm. Her doing anything like this was something he could never have imagined. He felt grateful. He stood up and positioned himself. “Ok, I’m going to press against you. Ready?”
In a slick voice, she said, “Fuck your filthy little mudblood, Malfoy.”
“Are you going to punish me for this?”
“Just fuck me already!”
“Are you?” He teased her with his tip.
“NO.”
“Why?” he questioned.
“Why what?”
“Why are you letting me do this?”
“Why are YOU DOING THIS?!”
He found himself kneeling again. He had kneeled before, but he had never licked anyone in the place his mouth was headed. He had always thought it was below him. But now, he found himself with more interest in making her feel good than in his pride. He licked her, lingering with rhythmic pressure, hoping it would help her get whatever it was that she wanted. He massaged her with his tongue until he felt her cunt contract under his nose.
She smelled just like his amortencia: freshly mown Grass, new parchment, and Mint. He wondered if that was because of the Alowash.
He kissed and sucked, worshipped even. After gently biting her cheeks, he bathed himself, his face wet with her, as if he were drinking in a prayer. He was sinking into her ass with his tongue on his knees, and he loved it; finally, something meaningful to do with himself.
Soft sounds and coos fell into his ears.
He wanted more. As if his wish was granted, he felt his tongue lengthen. He licked deep inside her, in all the crevices of her abdomen. He could feel her body tensing like a spring as he licked up her throat. His sensations were heightened, thoughts subdued. He tasted Mint, Wood, Grass, and Earth.
Hesitant to reach the tip of her tongue, she somehow pulled his up with the base of hers. He could feel her whole body breathe as they danced.
Exhaling through his nose into her cunt, he felt her heartbeat quicken. He gently massaged her clit with his thumb, looking at his altar.
He felt her contract along his tongue. A few more circles on her clit, and she was unraveling. He felt his pulse down to his toes.
An alpine stream danced into his vision again. She was sitting beside it. There was a song he could hear if he listened carefully. It sounded ancient. In this vision, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He saw the Goddess of all creation. He was sure of it.
A distant knock. Hands pushed down his shoulders. Blinking, he looked up at her in wonder.
“Malfoy!”
He snapped back into the lavatory. The knocking was louder and harder.
Granger slid off the counter in front of him. He fell back on his heels.
Clumsily and very slowly, he reached up to his mouth. His tongue had managed to shrink on its own.
Granger was casting spells and wards at the door.
He wasn’t sure what to do, and he didn’t understand how she could be so lucid right now. She was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her over that ancient music, a sound that seemed to echo the creation of the universe. It felt like eternal peace. He wanted to stay forever.
She came over with a beaded bag and straddled him.
He saw a time-turner, felt a cold chain on his neck, and suddenly he was on the night bus with his eyes closed.
Without warning, it was just the Wizengamot Lavatory of the Accused again.
Accused.
He sobered up a bit as thought grounded him to reality.