Things I Never Wanted to Tell YouAuthor: rilla_liciousCharacters/Pairings:
Everything old is new, sexology, body writing, bathingWord Count:
Something goes wrong with Hermione's research, and suddenly one of her biggest secrets is written all over Draco's face. Author's Notes:
Special thanks to thistle_verse
for the speedy and wonderful beta. I feel like I'm so late to the party with this pairing, but I do love them so.
"This is all your
fault!" The hysteria in Draco's voice was exceeded only by its pitch. "I can't believe I have to appear in public like this!"
Hermione walked swiftly ahead of him, not daring to look back over her shoulder as she led him down the corridor and toward her office.
"You're only drawing attention to yourself by shouting," she said. "If you're so keen on avoiding embarrassment, you might want to start by lowering your voice. The entire Ministry can hear you."
dirty writing plastered all over my face. I'm not the only one who should be embarrassed. I can hardly be expected to suffer alone."
Hermione cleared her throat and threw open the office door, then turned to him with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring tight-lipped. He rolled his eyes as he walked past her and into the office, and though she tried to avoid it, she couldn't help reading the vibrantly purple script curving across his forehead. Her eyes went wide for just a moment when she saw what was written just below his hairline. She winced.
"What?" he said, raising his fingertips to his forehead. "Don't tell me it's even worse
up there." He rolled up one sleeve violently and held it out for her to see. Thoughts, taken from somewhere in the back of her mind and scrawled across his body. Filthy, prurient thoughts. About Draco Malfoy. Kill me now.
She summoned a small pot from the top drawer of her desk.
"Did you read this one?" he said. "My God, Granger. What is wrong with you? Sexual repression, that's what. You spent all that time holed up beneath a stack of books, and then when you finally made an effort to date, you ended up with a Weasley of all things. I realize that when your only previous sexual experience transpired with the aforementioned Weasley--and that was how many years ago now?--and now you find yourself working long hours with a colleague as dashing and charming as--What
"It's a vanishing creme," Hermione said, her brows knitting together as she dabbed it on the words beneath his hairline. "And you're not a colleague anymore. You're a research assistant. I considered you a colleague before the Ministry demoted you and put you on probation."
"The Ministry made me into a scape goat and you know it. Those were important clinical trials I was--"
"Neville Longbottom caught you experimenting on
third years in his greenhouses. On Hogwarts grounds, no less! I'm surprised you even had a job after that."
"The cure for bubbling boils wasn't going to invent itself, you know. And it's not as if I was feeding them anything toxic. Not highly toxic, at any rate. I had a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of it, and that experiment didn't harm a single hair on their little heads."
"Hmm." Hermione tugged her bottom lip beneath her teeth. She couldn't quite say the same for the vanishing creme, which appeared only to be working on Draco's fine blond hair. He wasn't going to like that at all. She ran her fingertips over the words one more time. They seemed as indelible as ever. "I think we have to try something else."
Draco snatched the pot from her hand and frowned at it. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? First you vandalize my entire body in the name of your precious research and then you slather your hypocrisy all over me? Have you no shame, Granger?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione said, tightening the lid on the pot before setting it aside. She walked around her desk to the wall over bookshelves, looking for anything that might help.
"Did you or did you not just take me to task for testing a harmless potion on unwitting children? How do you think those Weasley jokesters made their fortune?"
Hermione slid her fingertip along the spines of heavy leather tomes, stopping when she finally found one that suited her purpose.
"Ah!" she said, whirling around and dropping it on the desk top with a resounding thunk. She flung open the cover and began thumbing through the pages. "There should be something in here."
Draco, his previous rant now forgotten, leaned over the desk on the other side. His hair fell into his face, over that thin band of scalp where part of it had disappeared. She noted that he wouldn't look entirely awful if his hair began to thin naturally as he aged, then looked down quickly.
"This!" she said, slapping her hand down on the helpful entry. "Draco, take off your clothes."
"Come again?" He straightened, scowling down his nose at her.
"You need to soak," she said, speaking as she read one line ahead, "in a tub of water infused with marshmallow root, acorn, and... several other things."
"What other things? Are they vile? You're not reading them because they're vile."
"I'm not reading them because we have a twenty minute window of opportunity, Draco, and I cast the charm," she glanced at her watch, "nearly fifteen minutes ago."
Draco began to loosen his tie. "Wait just a minute. Where
exactly do you think all this is going to happen? I'm not going to let you just conjure a vat of water in the middle of your office, Granger."
Hermione paused for a moment, then smiled slowly. She reached out and took hold of an unobtrusive handle between the bookcases and pulled it open, revealing a large, tiled room behind. She cast a charm to obscure the mirrors; it was better if he didn't see his face.
Draco, for the first time since he'd started working for her, stood speechless. In the interest of achieving something during his silence, she opened her small but well-stocked potions cabinet and began collecting the necessary ingredients.
"Hurry now," she said finally. "We're down to four minutes."
He shook his head and walked swiftly inside. "You have a bath in
your office?" There was more than a little jealousy in his voice. "Whose cock did you suck to get that little perk?"
"I spend a lot of nights at the office. It's called 'work ethic.' Do you want me to help you, or not?" she said, filling the tub with a wave of her wand.
"Sorry," he said, though there was not a hint of contrition in his voice. "You probably don't even suck cock, do you?"
"That's not what it says on your right cheekbone," she said tartly. This had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life.
In her research on magical amplification of the sexual response in witches, she had come across a very old spell that was rumored to transfer one's subtlest desires to the object of one's intentions. She had assumed it would leave Draco with the impression that she found him relatively attractive, and perhaps even pleasant at times. That was no cause for shame. Instead, the spell had dredged up every base, kinky, undignified desire she'd entertained during her research and scrawled all of them across Draco's body. In Hermione's handwriting.
She had refused to provide him with a mirror, finding some small solace in the fact that he could only see what was written on those parts of him protruding from his clothes. Of course, that was about to change.
She began spilling herbs into the water. Draco had dropped his robes, but hadn't removed anything else.
"Before I give you the pleasure of all my naked glory," he said, "am I correct in assuming that for some horribly ill-begotten reason, you need to stay
"You are." Hermione smiled, just the littlest bit. "But I promise I won't look."
"I don't know about that." He had dropped his shirt on the floor. "It says here on my left forearm, I want to look at you, Draco. I want to see you all trussed up like a
--Merlin, Granger! Read a lot of trashy romance novels, do you?"
"You have forty-five seconds to get in this tub," said Hermione. "I suggest you shut your mouth until you're submerged."
Draco pouted, but shoved down his pants. She averted her eyes as he stepped into the water, and he snorted.
"Honestly, how would you know what's in trashy romance novels if you've never read one yourself?" she said, just as he slipped his head beneath the water.
When he reemerged, he was sputtering. "Is it gone?" he said, looking up at her. "Tell me all you see is my flawless complexion."
"We're not finished," Hermione said, and she folded her outer robes neatly, draped them over the sink, then knelt beside the tub. "I... have to wash you."
"I'm sure I heard that wrong."
"No, you didn't. I have to wash it off of you. All of it."
Draco cleared his throat, his previous swagger lost. "Well, then."
"We're both adults," she said. "There's no reason this has to be difficult." She took a washcloth in her hand and dipped it into the water. "Now hold still and let me see if this works."
She set the washcloth, awkwardly, on one of his shoulders, then slid it across to the other, hissing in relief as the letters faded away. Draco let out a little moan of contentment and she felt her cheeks color.
"It's working?" he asked.
She slid the cloth up his back, from the spot between his shoulder blades where a particularly vulgar suggestion was written and up the back of his neck. Draco shivered. Hermione pressed her thighs together as she leaned over the tub. She could do this, as long as she didn't actually read what her subconscious had written across his skin. She could wash Draco Malfoy while he was naked and wet and making all these ridiculous little noises, and as long as she focused on his unbearable arrogance and snobbery, she wouldn't find herself turned on in the least. Note to self, next research topic: The effects of denial on the psyche during periods of unexpected sexual arousal.
Hesitant to touch any part of him beneath the water just yet, she slid the washcloth over his shoulder and across his chest, leaning forward into the tub to reach. He was watching her, and she tried to ignore it, but couldn't help meeting his eyes. They were close, too close, and the heat radiating off the water, radiating off Draco's body, was disorienting.
"Granger," he said, and she followed his gaze down.
She'd leaned in so far that her breasts were submerged in the water, and somehow she hadn't even noticed it.
"Bugger," she whispered, pulling back. Her white blouse and bra were soaked through, and water ran in warm rivulets down her stomach.
"Oh, yes," Draco said, shifting uncomfortably. "That's much
She reckoned the important thing was that she didn't look intentionally
. But she did look. She looked beneath the water and saw that he was hard, there was no way to hide it, and that the writing scrawled up his thighs and spiraled around his cock.
"I think..." she said, and she chewed on her lower lip as she began to unbutton her blouse. "I think perhaps we need to face the inevitable."
"Since you're going to have to touch it anyway, you might as well live out one of these disturbingly graphic fantasies you've written all over my body?" said Draco, and the bite in his voice made her stop what she was doing.
"Of course not," she said, turning her head away. "I didn't mean--"
"Don't," said Draco. "Don't defend yourself. It's not... I didn't mean anything by it. This is just... one of a long chain of utterly humiliating experiences over the last three months. Let's get it over with, shall we?"
"You're not the only one who's been humiliated, Draco. I do have to look you in the eyes every day at work after this." She unbuttoned a few more buttons.
"And you think a pity fuck is going to help matters?"
"Oh, come on, Granger. I know as well as you do that this little spell experiment didn't work in the first place. Do you think I believe for a moment that you want to," he looked down to examine the writing on his right hip, "tie me down and fuck me silly with the longest, hardest--" He broke off and cleared his throat. "You get my point. I saw the look of horror on your face when those words appeared."
"That was shock," she said slowly. "And no, I had no idea I wanted those things but..." She swallowed hard. "I don't find them entirely unpalatable." At the look he shot her, she amended," I was operating under the impression that these... ideas had come from my subconscious. I think... I think the spell worked just fine, Draco. Only it was a bit more potent than expected."
"A bit," Draco said.
"Now, if your ego has been sufficiently stroked," she tugged off her blouse and set it aside with less ceremony than her robes, "perhaps we can get this over with for my
sake. It isn't exactly a dream of mine to engage in a workday shag with a man who despises me."
"I don't despise you, Granger." Draco's voice was very small, and she realized that he was staring blatantly at her wet bra. She reached behind her back to unfasten it. "In fact, as far as superiors go," he said the word with a frown of distaste, "you are surprisingly tolerable."
"Surprisingly tolerable," she repeated. "Not quite the compliment I was looking for." She stood and pushed her trousers and knickers down. "But I suppose it will do."
Draco drew in a sharp breath as she stepped into the water, as if he hadn't believed she would go through with it. The way he was looking at her... There wasn't a hint of disgust or annoyance on his face. Only want
"I can do better than that. With your hair pulled back and those ridiculous reading glasses..." His voice was rough and he swallowed hard. "You look like... a naughty librarian."
"Naughty librarian?" The corners of her mouth curled up. "You are
a fan of trashy romance novels."
"My mother is," said Draco said, glancing away. "I liked to read as a child and wasn't allowed in my father's library and... I hardly think this is the time for explanations, Granger."
"No," she said, and she spread her knees to the outside of his legs, then slid closer, tentatively brushing her fingers over his shoulders. The last traces of magical ink disappeared beneath them. "It's time for something else."
She braced herself and slipped her hands beneath the water and drew her palms up his sides, disappearing the words as they passed. Draco arched, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. Hermione let out a little gasp.
"Read them," he said, barely audible.
"Not out loud. I can see for myself what it says. I want you to read as you touch them. I want you to know what you want."
She could only hear her own breath, her own pounding heart, and the gentle splash of the water. She looked down at the words still apparent on his chest. I want to taste you, all of you, to hold you down and draw my tongue over all those parts of you that make you writhe and whine and scream. I want you begging me.
Could these really be her thoughts?
He was here beneath her now, his erection pressed against her sex, his chest rising and falling fast with anticipation. Yes. Yes, these were the things that she wanted. And she wanted them now consciously.
"Granger, you can't make me wait," he said, her fingers trailing over the words, erasing them.
She reached up to touch his face, washing him with her hands. His lips were parted and she slid her finger around his mouth, his teeth catching it, tongue darting teasingly.
." I want you begging me.
Her gaze never left his face as she reached beneath the water, pulled him to her, exploring his cock through touch alone, rubbing its head against her, pressing herself onto him.
"There," he said, simply. "There
She pressed her lips to his forehead, eyes closed, and recited the words that had just faded away. "I want to spread myself open for you. I want to feel you inside me. I want to know that your," she swallowed, "your cock is every bit as big and hard and lovely as I imagined it would be."
"You thought about that?" He pushed up into her again, straining to go deeper.
"Once or twice, before falling asleep," she breathed. "I needed to--"
"Bring yourself off? Thinking of me?" His thumb slid over her clit, circled it, wet and slick beneath the water. "Thinking of me doing this?"
"And more," she said. She squeezed her thighs together, rode up on him higher.
"Hermione." There was a note of begging in his voice. "I want to go deep." His free hand was on her hip, tugging down, but she resisted him.
"I know you do," she said, and she buried her face against his neck. He was sweaty now, tasting like salt and bare skin. Dirty words vanished beneath her lips. "I like it like this. With you wanting it, wanting what you can't have just now."
"You like lording power over me." Draco's head rolled back against the rim of the tub.
"There's that," she said. He had two fingers against her clit now, spreading apart along either side of it, stroking her labia around his cock, and she shuddered. "Merlin. Draco."
"Do you want to come?" he asked.
"What kind of question is--Oh
." He was rubbing her harder now, slowly. Too slowly. "Yes. Of course I--Yes."
"What if you give me what I want, and I give you what you want?"
She tried to smile at that, but her lips trembled. "You want it harder," she said. "Like this." And she slid down him, seated herself deeply, felt him so far inside her, felt his hips rocking slowly as he urged his cock deeper still.
She couldn't look away.
," he whispered. "Hermione, God." And then he was bucking up, water splashing everywhere, his mouth on her throat, fingers pinching and stroking and teasing her clit.
Everything in her started to shake. When she came she was riding him hard, cursing and gasping and digging her nails into his skin. It was over for him then, too, and his mouth fell open, eyes going out of focus as he shot inside her, his body taut and jerking up beneath her.
She pressed her forehead to his throat, breathing hard, her hands passing over his skin, clearing away the last bits of script.
"Oh fuck," he panted. "I forgot the bloody spells. Tell me you're--"
"On the potion? I am. Both of them. Protective and contraceptive. In spite of your opinion of my sex life, Malfoy, I do take proper precautions."
He sniffed, but she could feel him smiling against the top of her head. "Of course you do," he said. "So was that... How did you put it on my left thigh? A 'mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm'?"
"Shut it," she said, but she smiled in return. He cradled the back of her head. "It was good enough that it may require further research. If my research assistant is amenable."
"You stop referring to me as your research assistant and perhaps I will be."
Hermione tilted her head up to look at him. "Keep up the good behavior, Malfoy, and I just might start calling you a colleague again."
Draco pushed a curl behind her ear. "At the moment, I'll settle for you continuing to call me Draco."
She slid off him, her hands still resting on his chest as she knelt between his legs, and she smiled. "I'll see what I can do."