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Snow falls from the ceiling, floating down softly, only to disappear before it lands on anyone. The giant Christmas tree in the corner is covered with flakes, a frozen wonderland decorating each branch. Children dance the waltz to the music, switching partners with every turn. The Great Hall looks like something taken out of a snow globe.
Memories flash in her mind of her own Yule Ball. Spinning on the dance floor, losing Viktor as she met her new partner, her gasp as electricity shot through her hand as it met his, the warmth of his palm on her waist—
Hermione’s chocolate eyes crash against molten silver across the hall.
His gaze is already on her, eyes dark, unyielding and burning hot enough to melt the falling snow. As if reading his mind, Hermione flushes under his gaze, the pure lust etched onto his face enough to have heat curling in her stomach and tinging her cheeks a rosy pink as if the chill of the snow is real.
As much as her legs want to carry her across the hall, she can’t. They’re chaperones and Hermione won’t break the rules just to continue this push and pull she’s started with Draco Malfoy since the beginning of the year.
With reluctance, she drags her eyes away and focuses on a couple of fourth year Slytherins making out against the wall, walking over to pull them apart. They scowl at her and move, and Hermione is pretty sure they’re off to continue snogging somewhere else.
Hermione tries to blend into the background in her ice blue, floor-length gown, wanting to give the students an illusion of freedom. The clear beading falls in a cascading pattern down her dress but blends in with the falling snow.
No matter how small she tries to make herself, she can’t seem to lose his gaze.
“Hermione.”
She pulls her eyes to the man in front of her and smiles.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
“I’d love to, Neville.”
The teachers join in as the Ball comes to an end and Hermione spins around the dance floor in Neville’s strong arms. She can’t help but laugh as he misses a step and they collide, her head falling to his chest in a fit of giggles.
When she lifts her head, stormy grey eyes find hers once more, a smirk etched onto his face.
“Sorry, Hermione.”
Sher breath hitches. “It’s fine, Neville.”
The song ends and people clap as the night comes to a successful close. Neville helps walk students back to their common rooms as Hermione hangs back, directing any straggling students to the door until the room is empty except for the band still packing up in the corner.
All of the other chaperones have left, leaving the clean up to the elves.
Except for her.
And Draco Malfoy.
He walks across the room confidently. He’s devastatingly handsome in his fitted robes, silver cuff links glinting in the soft light. His white-blond hair shines, almost like the falling snow is landing on him before it disappeared.
“Professor Malfoy,” she says as he approaches.
His lips twist in amusement. “Professor Granger. You look incredible.” He reaches up, toying with one of the rogue curls that fell from her updo.
“Thank you. You clean up quite nice.”
The grin breaks through at her words and his hand falls, dropping her curl. “You know that dance kind of reminded me…”
Hermione looks up at him from under her lashes. “Of when we danced together?”
Draco smirks at the memory.
“I…” she bites her lip, gathering the nerve to say the words waiting on her tongue. “I wanted to dance with you today,” Hermione admits in a rushed whisper.
Draco glances over his shoulder and moves to the corner of the room, long strikes carrying him quickly. He whispers to the band and one member, still holding his guitar, nods quickly before taking something from Draco. They shake hands and the guitarist sits down on the bench before he starts to play another song.
Draco walks back over to her and holds out his hand. Hermione looks down at it, as a grin spreads across her face. Placing her palm against his, those same sparks of electricity ignite her, only growing as Draco leads her to the now-empty dance floor and pulls her close.
Hermione holds onto his shoulder as Draco’s palm seemingly burns a hole in the fabric covering her lower back. His eyes only leave hers to flit down to her mouth and back up again. A rush of emotion floods her as snow continues to trickle down overhead and the band plays a song just for them.
Merlin, he’s a good dancer. He leads her effortlessly, as they twirl and twist across the empty floor. Draco holds his arm out and spins Hermione under it. As he pulls her back in, Hermione’s hand finds his chest and Draco’s lips find hers.
She gasps, opening her mouth and he dips his tongue in, taking anything she’ll offer him, which is everything, even if he doesn’t know it yet.
Her hands slide up, caressing his jaw, moving around his shoulders, and tugging at the hair at his neck as their kiss becomes more fervent. Draco holds her close, hands pressing against her back, dipping low to grab at her hips, pulling her tightly against him and exploring nearly every inch of her.
He spins her backwards, moving until they’re pressed against the wall. Draco’s hands skate over her sides, gliding over her hips and up again to the sides of her breasts.
Hermione is deliriously lost in him, her hands reaching up, unbuttoning his suit jacket and reaching for his crisp Oxford shirt. She grabs either side, gripping tightly and tugging hard so expose his chest. Buttons clatter to the ground and Hermione opens her eyes to look where they went, her chocolate gaze widening in realisation.
“Draco,” she gasps. “Draco, wait.”
With a groan of reluctance he pulls his mouth from hers, eyes black with lust as he looks at her.
“We can’t do this…here…” Not in the Great Hall where anyone could walk in and see them, where Headmistress McGonagall could catch them, where the band is still playing, though their eyes, at least, are averted.
Hunger darkens Draco’s features as his eyes scan hers. “Your room or mine, Granger?”
She breathes out harshly, excitement and anticipation flooding her veins, rooting itself in her gut. “Yours,” she says on an exhale.
Grinning wickedly, Draco takes her hand and pulls her behind him, out of the Great Hall and down toward the dungeons. Hermione can barely keep up as they run through the halls. She casts a wordless silencing charm on their feet to stop her heels from clacking through the castle.
They get to the teachers’ rooms in the dungeon and Draco pulls her toward the end of the hall. He unlocks the door and pulls her inside, kicking the door closed and magically locking and silencing it. He slips off his jacket, uncaring as it falls in a clump to the floor.
Hermione imagined this many times. She’d wondered what Draco’s room would look like, what books he’d have stacked by his bed, what liquor he’d keep, if his room had a view of the black lake. Yet, now that she’s here, she doesn’t care to look around. All she wants to take in is him.
Hermione bites her lip, backing into the room and keeping her eyes pinned on the wizard before her. Draco approaches her like he’s cornering prey. A smirk on his face, slow, deliberate steps in her direction, eyes burning, as if saying I’ve caught you now.
Their dorms in the castle are small and it’s not long before the backs of Hermione’s legs hit Draco’s bed. His grin turns wolfish, liking that he has her trapped. It has Hermione’s knees going weak and lust curling in her stomach, centring slightly lower.
Her heart beats rapidly against her chest as she waits for him to grow closer, for him to reach out and touch her, kiss her, anything. The anticipation is almost too much to bear.
“Hermione.” He says her name like a prayer, like he’s spent years whispering and worshipping it. “I’ve thought about this for months. Imagined you here, in my room, in my bed.” He bites his lip, his perfect teeth digging into the flesh.
Lifting her head, Hermione summons her courage. “What took you so long then?”
His smirk stretches across his face. Draco reaches out, toying with that same loose piece of hair. “I like to play with my food,” he says simply. “But I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tonight you look good enough to eat.” He stares at her like he’s going to devour her whole.
And Merlin, she hopes he does.
Her breath hitches, heart thumping almost painfully in her chest. Her eyes scan over him; his shirt is loose thanks to the loss of the buttons and his hair is dishevelled from her fingers. She’s thought he’s never looked sexier than when he’s all mussed from her hands.
But it’s not enough. She wants to mark him. Leave scratch marks against his alabaster skin. Leave mouth-shaped bruises against his collarbones. Leave Gryffindor-red lipstick stains on his neck.
“What are you waiting for now then?” she asks cheekily.
He tugs on her ringlet until she’s forced to tilt her head to the side. Her mouth falls open in a light gasp. “You look good with your mouth open, Granger.” He leans in close so his breath ghosts across her parted lips. “But you’d look better with my cock down your throat.”
She tilts her head up to meet his eye even though it tugs painfully on her hair. “Do it then,” she dares him.
His eyes flash and in the space between one breath and the next his lips are on hers, kissing her with unrestrained hunger. His hand moves from her curl to slide into her hair. He groans against her, pushing his body into hers, curling her against him. She moulds to him, clinging to his sides, hands fisting his torn shirt.
Draco’s hands move down over her dress, sliding across her back. Frustration spills from the back of his throat as he pulls away from the kiss.
“How do I take this off?” he asks her.
Hermione turns around, showing Draco the hidden zipper. Her heart swells as Draco’s fingers tug at the zipper slowly, a teasing glide over her spine. When it hits the bottom he doesn’t pull the gown off right away. She turns her head to look back at him when his lips find her neck and move down, kissing between her shoulder blades, and kneeling to kiss the space between where her corset ends and her knickers begin.
“Take off your dress, Hermione.”
Reaching up slowly, Hermione peels one sleeve off her arm and repeats the process on the other side. She pushes the delicate fabric down to her waist and looks back at Draco, finding him staring at her backside ravenously, like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Hermione shimmies from the dress and once it’s past her hips it pools at her feet and she carefully steps out of it. She waits, unsure if he wants to continue to stare at her arse or if she should turn around and let him get the whole picture.
“Spin for me.” His voice is gravelly with lust and it has heat pooling in her knickers.
Hermione crosses one foot over the other and slowly turns, giving him the show he’s so desperate for.
His eyes are on her heels and moving upward toward her thighs, lingering on her white lace knickers. He’s eye-level with her cunt and Hermione wonders if he can tell how drenched she is through the fabric. Despite his hands flexing at his sides, he doesn’t reach out to touch her and she thinks it might kill her if he doesn’t touch her soon.
His gaze travels up, over her matching white corset, lingering on her breasts and newly bared skin.
“Fuck,” he utters. “Look at you.” He shakes his head slowly, lip tucked between his teeth. She wishes she were more proficient in Legilimency, desperate to know what he’s thinking, what filthy things he wishes to do to her.
“Please, Draco,” Hermione begs.
“Please, what?”
“Touch me.”
Even though he’s already kneeling, she thinks his knees may actually buckle at her words. His hands cup the slender backs of her ankles, soothing against her skin before he glides his hands up along the backs of her legs. Even though the backs of her knees are ticklish, she doesn’t find it in herself to laugh as his fingers trail over the sensitive skin there.
When his hands find her backs of her thighs, he grips her, fingers digging into her supple flesh. She bites her lip, anticipation thudding through her steadily, her heartbeat thumping in her cunt, making her legs shake with need.
Draco palms her arse, squeezing her. His pinkies tease her knickers, dipping under the lace to drag against her sensitive flesh. He’s close, so bloody close to where she needs him, but he doesn’t touch her there.
Hermione looks down at him and Draco is smirking at her, knowing what he’s doing to her and enjoying it.
He hums, slate grey eyes shining up at her. “You’ve made such a sweet little mess for me already.”
A flush spreads across her skin and she shivers at his touch.
“Can I take these off, Granger? Do you want to show me that messy little pussy?”
Hermione’s knees buckle at his filthy words and she nods.
Draco tsks. “Use your words, Granger. You know so many of them.”
Something about his condescending tone has Hermione dripping into her knickers.
“Can you please take off my knickers, Draco?” Hermione asks, a little breathlessly.
“Mmm. Since you asked so nicely.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband and gently pulls them down her legs.
Where Hermione was rushed and needy, tearing at Draco’s shirt until the buttons popped; the wizard on his knees before her is deliberate, patient. When her knickers fall to the floor, Hermione holds onto Draco’s shoulder for balance, stepping out of them one by one, balancing carefully on her stilettos.
“Touch yourself.”
Hermione’s gaze snaps to Draco’s.
“Show me how wet you are.” When she hesitates, he raises both brows. He lifts her hand, caressing along her fingers and focusing on the middle one. “Dip this finger inside your tight little cunt and show me how wet you are.”
Hermione’s mouth falls open to accommodate her heavy breathing. She spreads her legs, giving herself more room before gliding her hand up her thigh and teasing herself. Her finger dances over her clit and her breath hitches at the feeling. She wants to stay there, to draw out tight circles on the bundle of nerves until she explodes and Draco has to hold her body up as its wracked with pleasure.
Instead, she ignores the dull throb of her clit to abide by Draco’s wishes. She parts her lower lips, dipping her finger between her holds until she finds her sodden hole. She gasps and does as he ordered, dipping her finger inside.
Her eyes fall closed at the intrusion and she wants nothing more than to pump her fingers inside herself.
“Let me see.” Draco’s husky voice interrupts her desire.
Pulling her finger from her core, Hermione makes sure not to rub any excess off against her pussy. There’s a string of her slick connecting from her hole to her finger and Draco moans deliciously. Abruptly, he grabs onto her wrist, tugging her arm forward, breaking the strand connecting her to herself. Before she even has a chance to register what’s happening, her finger is in Draco’s mouth as he’s humming around the slender digit, his tongue cleaning her of her juices.
When he’s had his fill, he uses her wrist to pull her finger from his mouth with a resounding ‘pop.’
“I was right. Good enough to eat.” In a quick motion, he grabs her behind the knee and slings her leg over his shoulder. Hermione nearly falls over, barely having enough time to grab onto his hair to steady herself. In the next second, Draco’s tongue is delving into her cunt, dipping into her core to taste her himself.
Hermione cries out as he fucks her with his tongue. Draco moans against her, the vibrations shooting to her core. He licks upward to her clit, flicking his tongue relentlessly against the bud.
“Oh god oh god oh god.” Hermione tugs at his hair, her head falling back in bliss.
“My name,” he forces out. “You say my name when I’m eating your cunt.”
Draco uses two of his own fingers to fuck her, curling them inside her until she’s nearly blacking out from pleasure. Her hips move on their own accord, seeking more, inching closer to the ledge she’s desperate to fall off.
“Draco. Please please please,” she begs.
His lips encircle her clit, sucking the bud into his mouth. Hermione screams, the pleasure too much, but she moans, “Don’t stop, please, fuck, don’t stop!”
He teases her clit with his teeth and the sharp touch of pain has Hermione falling over the ledge. She cries out his name, her hips grinding against his face, pussy clenching down on his fingers as she comes. She has no idea how she manages to stay standing as she rides out her orgasm.
Her chest is heaving, breaths coming out in heavy pants and she loosens her hold on his hair. Unsteadily, Draco helps her plant her foot back on the ground and she wobbles, reaching out for him once more for support.
Her legs are weak and her smile feels lazy as she looks down at the man on his knees. Her mind is nearly blank and Hermione can only think of one thing to say.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one on my knees.”
Draco wipes his glistening lips with his thumb, eyes blazing on her as he stands. “Cheeky little witch.” He grabs onto her neck and pulls her in for another rough kiss. She can taste her own sweet musk on his tongue but combined with him she doesn’t think she minds.
“Take this off,” he says as his fingers graze her white corset.
Hermione spins around, showing Draco her back. She turns her head to the side and asks, “Can you help me?”
With delicate precision, Draco’s fingers glide over the loops, pushing the buttons out through. Before he undoes the final loop, he tugs the corset tight, pulling Hermione’s body against his.
“Who helped you fasten this?” His mouth is at her ear, the low growl laced with jealousy. “If you needed my help to get it off, who helped you get it on?”
Hermione bites her lip to control her grin. “I fastened it with my wand,” she tells him, turning her head back to the side. “I just wanted your help getting it off.”
Wrapping his arm around her, Draco cups her cheek, tilting her head up to capture her lips again in a ravenous kiss. He licks his way into her mouth and nips at her lip. She can feel his cock against her bare arse, pressing into her roughly, long and hard in his trousers.
With the flick of his fingers, the corset falls free. Draco steps around her, eyes on fire as he openly stares at her.
“Sit on the bed. Let me look at you.”
Hermione moves to his mattress, her legs partly spread as she sits down. She rests her hands behind her, supporting her weight on her palms and keeps her chin high as she looks back at him. His eyes draw a map over her body, unable to choose one place to call home.
His shoes click against the wooden floor as he walks over to her. Two fingers tilt her chin up to keep her gaze on his.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, voice filled with reverence and…is that happiness?
Hermione could probably melt into a puddle in his bed right now if not for her desire for him keeping her burning against his sheets instead.
He drops his hand, his smile turning wicked. “Now take out my cock and suck it like a good little slut.”
Hermione gasps, fiendfyre searing through her veins. Lifting her hands, she moves them immediately to his belt, unbuckling it quickly. She pops open the button of his trousers and lowers the zipper. The top of his dick is peeking out from the tops of his pants, already leaking and begging for her touch. Draco’s cock twitches in her trousers as her hands graze over it.
From her angle she has a hard time freeing him without yanking his pants down his legs. Draco helps her, hooking his thumb into the waistband of his boxer briefs and tugging them down so Hermione can reach her hand in and pull him all the way out.
Draco hisses at her touch, keeping one hand on his pants as Hermione strokes him. Hermione drags her hand from root to tip, revelling in the hot weight of him in her palm.
She looks up at him with wide eyes as she leans in and sticks her tongue out, flicking it against the tip like she’s licking an ice cream cone. Draco’s hips buck and Hermione grins up at him. He clenches his other fist at his side and Hermione can’t help but enjoy the way she’s affecting him.
Opening her mouth wider, she takes the tip inside and swirls her tongue all around him. Still looking up at him, she watches his eyes flutter closed and his head fall back between his shoulders.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, the guttural sound like a hit of a drug to Hermione.
She pushes him back into her mouth until he hits the back of her throat. He moans as Hermione closes her lips tight around him, sucking his cock and stroking the underside with her tongue.
She pulls back, bobbing her head and repeating the process. Draco’s hand finds the back of her head and her grips her hair tightly in his fist.
“Gods, you suck my dick like you were made to,” he utters, his hand squeezing her hair.
Hermione wraps her hand around the base of his cock, pumping the part she can’t quite fit into her mouth. She works him over like this, moaning around him, swallowing his tip at the back of her throat and begging him through moans to lose control.
Draco rips his cock from her mouth, panting, and uses the hand wrapped around in her hair to hold her back when Hermione reaches for his cock once more.
“I am not going to come down your throat until I have a taste of that pussy.”
Hermione grins up at him sweetly. “You already had a taste of it.”
“Cheeky witch.”
He lets go of her hair and she scoots back to rest against his pillows. Draco climbs over her, kissing his way up her body, from her hip bone to a pert nipple, her neck and finally her lips.
“I’m not coming in your smart mouth until I feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock for all its worth. That better, princess?”
Hermione’s cheeks heat and her eyelids flutter. She spreads her legs wider and the heavy weight of his cock presses at her core. “What are you waiting for then?”
Draco kisses her roughly, passion and need pouring from his lips in a toe-curling kiss. Their tongues dance in the way they did earlier, a romantic tangle, a tantalising twirl, causing goosebumps to erupt on Hermione’s skin. Her hands cling to his back, needing to feel his chest on hers, his weight bearing down on her.
Pulling back, Draco looks down between them and uses his hand to line his cock to her entrance. She bends her knees, bracing her heels on the bed.
Gasping, her back arches as the broad head of his dick pushes inside her. Her mouth falls open, and she lifts her head, looking down at where they’re connected, wondering how much more he has to go as she already feels so deliciously full.
Half of his cock is still outside of her. Merlin help her.
Draco uses his palm to rub against the outside of Hermione’s thigh. “Fuck, look at you spread for me.” His finger glides over her pussy lips reverently. “You’re doing so well. Can you take a little more for me, baby?”
Hermione whimpers but nods.
It makes it easier—but also so much fuller—when Draco lifts one of her legs, holding the back of her knee and opening her up even wider for him. He glides inside her easier until finally, he’s pushed all the way in to the root.
Hermione’s cunt squeezes him and Draco lets out a loud, “Oh fuck.”
Slowly, he pulls back, his hand squeezing her leg in a way that is sure to leave his handprint on her thigh. He presses into her, it’s slow and controlled and driving Hermione absolutely mad.
“Fuck me, Draco. Please. I need it. I need it harder.”
He lets out a sharp breath and meets her eye. “I always knew you were going to kill me one way or another.”
Her brow furrows and he pulls back before slamming his hips into hers. Hermione cries out as Draco fucks her the way she wants: hard, fast, punishing.
Her nails scrape down his back so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood. She wraps her legs around his waist, heels dangling precariously from her toes as he rocks into her over and over again. Draco presses his body against hers, his lips finding her neck, kissing and nipping at her equally.
“Fuck, your pussy is gold, Granger. I need to feel you come on my cock, baby. What do you need?” He takes her earlobe between his teeth, biting down and tugging on it.
Hermione keens, feeling so close but needing more. Her hands skate down his back, pushing Draco’s hips into her but slowing him down. Leaning her head up, she whispers in his ear, “Let me ride you.”
His groan is pained and he curses under his breath. “Hang on,” he says as he pushes an arm under her, gripping her waist before flipping over quickly so Hermione’s on top of him.
One heel falls off in the process and she reaches back, pulling the other one off. The movement has Draco gritting his teeth, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.
“Go slow,” he tells her through clenched teeth.
Hermione bites her lip, a smile trying to burst through. Teasingly, she lifts her hips inch by inch, dragging Draco’s cock from her channel so she can feel all of him. It’s heaven and torture all rolled into one.
“Touch my clit,” Hermione tells him as she lowers back down his shaft.
Draco licks his thumb and moves his hand between them, pressing his finger against her sensitive bud and rubbing slow circles against her.
Hermione hisses, the pleasure shooting through her like a lightning strike to the heart. “Right there. Faster.” She starts moving her own hips quicker, up and down on his cock, slamming her hips onto his as Draco thrusts up into her.
Hermione falls forward as he fucks her hard from below, her hand catching on his chest, nails digging into his alabaster skin.
“Oh gods, Draco.” Her legs are shaking on either side of his hips as he rubs fast, tight circles against her clit. Pleasure is a force knocking through her and she’s not sure she’ll be able to sustain the wreckage.
“Come on, Hermione. Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.” He fucks her hard, fingers never wavering as they draw a map of bliss against her.
Her eyes are pinched closed, her teeth digging so hard into her bottom lip that it’s painful but she’s so close she just—she needs—right there.
Hermione screams, shattering around him as her orgasm knocks her to her knees. She collapses against Draco’s chest, riding out the waves of her orgasm with his hand pinned between them, still ghosting across her clit as she rides every last wave.
She’s breathless on top of him. Draco’s hips still thrust slowly up into her, his hands pinned on her lower back, holding her.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers into her ear.
Hermione lifts her head, wrinkling her nose as she giggles happily. Draco rolls them back over so her body is beneath him, all sated and boneless. She takes his face between her hands, staring deeply into his eyes.
“Come for me, Draco. I want to feel you now.” She rubs her thumb across his lip before she pulls him down into a kiss.
His tongue matches the pace of his cock pushing inside her, slow and languid and perfect. Hermione’s never felt so connected to anyone, like they were made for one another.
Draco’s breath hitches in her ear and his hands squeeze her waist as his thrusts stutter. A low groan spills out as his entire body tenses except for his twitching cock spilling inside her.
With a sigh, Draco’s forehead falls against hers lightly. He rolls off of her, cleaning them both with a wandless charm before tugging her body against his.
Hermione looks up at him, admiring the way his hair is sticking to his forehead and the lazy smile plastered on his lips.
“What’s that look?” she asks.
“What look?” he looks down at her, his siler eyes sparkling and his lips stretched.
“That one.”
His grin broadens. “I’m happy.”
She stretches her body against his, pushing up so her mouth can meet his. “I’m happy too.”
She thinks she likes the way happy looks on Draco Malfoy.
Even more than that, she thinks she likes the way happy feels on her.