His Pretty Little Maid - A gift for The Community! Title: His Pretty Little Maid Author:misselizabeth12 Recipient: The Community Pairing: Draco/Hermione Word Count: 5,847 Rating: NC-17 Warnings: Lemons (Extreme Smut), Major Character Dead, Light BDSM Summary: Draco has taken everything for Hermione. Her love. Her friends. Her freedom. But what does Slytherin's Prince want with her? Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy the fic, and you can find a picture of Hermiones 'outfit' here: http://www.lalalingerie.com/images/miadcostumesexyprincess.jpg Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable characters, settings or items. These belong to JK Rowling.
Hermione dived under the burst of green light, feeling it scorch the top of her head, giving off the scent of burnt hair.
Sheltering behind a tangled bramble, Hermione took a few moments to breathe, trying not to contemplate how close to death she had come.
But that was just it, wasn’t it?
Keep ducking, keep dodging, and keep breathing. Until one day you weren’t fast enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted patches of darkness against the green of the vines. Dark, juicy blackberries clung onto their vines, bending them with the weight of their ripeness.
Tucked further back, crimson berries, not yet ripe hid their blushes, until they darkened like their fellows.
I can make jam.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside Hermione at the absurdness of the situation. Jam? In the middle of a battle, a war against the most evil wizard in existence, and she, ‘The brightest witch of her age’, was crouched under a blackberry bramble, contemplating making jam from its fruit.
I’m finally cracking.
A warning shout brought Hermione to her senses. The tangle of vines burst into flames from someone’s attack, forcing Hermione back from the sheer heat.
Harry, emerald eyes bright with adrenalin, raven hair plastered to his face with sweat, grabbed Hermione’s arm, his grip reassuringly firm. When he spoke, his voice was raspy from shouting.
"You all right Hermione?"
She nodded, not trusting her voice not to break and reveal how close she was to tears. They were just kids! Kids should not have to fight and kill people. And Harry! Poor, wonderful Harry, with the whole world placed on his shoulders since he was two.
Harry and Hermione reflexively ducked as a dart of green light whizzed through the space where their heads had just been.
Hermione straightened and sent a red flash of her own back in the direction of the curse. A cloaked figure crumpled to the ground, his hood slipping back to reveal a grotesque metal face, twisted into an eternal sneer. Through the eyeholes, greyish eyelids fluttered shut, concealing cold brown eyes.
Hermione and Harry battled their way back through the trees, wands flashing and darting, assisting others who were locked in private battles, felling foe after foe.
Slowly, ever so gradually, the Order started to gain ground, Death Eaters falling back, again and again succumbing to the Order’s spells. Hermione stunned another opponent and turned to Harry, battling another Death Eater by her side. With a final whirl of his wand, he dispatched him. Ahead of them, Ron’s red hair flashed in the patches of sunlight that shone through the lattice of branches, as he lead the Orders advance. With a war cry he charged, battling straight into a clumped group of black, dodging spells, and shooting off his own.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel a surge in her heart as her beloved of nearly 5 years fought. He was so brave!
She and Harry shared an amused look at Ron’s antics, before following him with a cry of their own.
Back to back, they battled together, taking out months of frustration and anger at what they had seen on these dealers of misery.
Suddenly, a great cry sounded from the remaining Death Eaters.
All around the Order, more hooded figures appeared, surrounding their small group.
For a moment, everything was frozen.
One…
Two…
Three…
And then his voice broke the silence.
"Avada Kedavra!" A green jet of light soared from a strangely familiar wand.
All eyes were locked to that speeding jet, as it sped across the space between two enemies, and met its mark.
In Ron’s chest.
Ron looked across at Harry and Hermione, blue eyes filled with feeling that he could not express.
Ron may express the emotional range of a tea spoon, but inside, his heart was as deep and wide as the Pacific.
He and Harry… They were best mates. Brothers. Harry was as much a part of Ron’s family as Fred or George. They would have been brothers one day, if fate had been kinder to the youngest male Weasley.
And Hermione. Ron was Hermione’s first love. She had fallen for the red-headed, ill-mannered freckled boy, who so casually breezed through life, when he had done what no-one had ever done before.
He had saved her life.
And since then, their love had grown. They fought, yes, but all lovers did. They had exchanged kisses, sweet tender kisses, that while left the taste of honey in Hermione’s mouth, did not contain the passion and lightning that she had read about.
So Hermione had settled with the boy who had loved her so unconditionally, and unrequitedly, for the first time in her life.
And then he was gone.
Light left those sapphire orbs, and almost in slow motion, he collapsed to the green and brown forest floor, his vivid hair blazing against the earth. Features slackened, and eyelids fluttered closed for the last time.
And then all holy hell broke loose.
Screams shattered the once peaceful forest, and combatants returned in full throttle. With a cry of anguish, Hermione knelt by Ron’s side. His hands slipped out of hers, and dropped to the ground. Cold. Limp. Lifeless.
The Death Eater that killed him still stood there. No-one had gotten close enough to attack him. His eyes, a glacial shade of light grey, stared straight at Hermione, boring into her anguished face, honey eyes that were converting grief into fury, and her ever tightening grip on her wand.
"You… You…" her voice was barely a whisper, hardly audible above the bangs and cries of the embattled forest, but somehow he heard. And she knew he did.
"BASTARD!" Hermione finished her sentence with an all-consuming shriek. She lunged at this nameless, faceless monster.
He had killed Ron! He was attacking her, her friends and her world. He had shattered her heart. He. Would. DIE!
But as if this was all rehearsed, a line in a movie, the Death Eater swung sideways. Instead of catching Hermione’s full weight in his stomach, he caught her lightly in his arms. Instantly, Hermione could tell that she was way outclassed by this stranger.
A grip of iron now encased her upper body, as he pulled her against him. Next to him, on the right, another Death Eater, his dark olive skin visible between mask and robes, let a short sharp blast of sound out of his wand.
Hermione struggled, but the steely grip held, her wand hand incapitated by his hand clenched around her wrist.
As soon as the signal blast had been fired, all the Death Eaters started to Disapparate. Duellists turned to find their enemies gone.
Harry turned to face Hermione, green eyes sparkling with pent up anguish at the death of his best friend. This in turn transformed as he saw his remaining friend clutched in the grip of the monster that had killed Ron. His hawthorn rod, strangely familiar, pressed painfully into her pale neck, and her struggles to free herself.
Rage.
Harry lunged for Hermione and her captor, but before he could reach them the final Death Eaters vanished, and Hermione, her mysterious captor and his dark-skinned friend turned on the spot and vanished.
Darkness.
The squeezing suffocation of the pitch black that surrounded them. The micro-relief that came when they stopped, a momentary glance at a strange landscape, then the squeeze of Apparition again. They stopped once, twice, three times before finally they reached the trimmed gardens of Malfoy Manor.
In the distance, the white peacocks screeched at the intruders, flaring their impressive tail feathers.
The dark Death Eater pointed his wand at Hermione. She continued to struggle useless against her captor.
"Incarcerous!" Coils of black rope erupted from his wand, binding and gagging Hermione in place.
Hermione’s Death Eater picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Hermione wanted to scream from the indignity. She felt them rising slightly, and watched as the heavy wooden doors closed behind them. She was trapped.
The second Death Eater left, striding through another set of doors, leaving Hermione and his friend standing in the marble entrance hall.
"Mitzi!"
The crack of Apparition rebounded through the entrance hall. Hermione could not see the poor, enslaved creature, but she could hear its high squeaky voice.
"Yes Master?"
The Death Eater shifted slightly.
"Prepare the guest room connected to my room, but lock all the doors to it, except for mine." His voice was husky and deep, but as smooth as velvet. It had an aristocratic tone, and a core of ice. This was a man who had everything, had seen everything. And didn’t he know it.
Hermione recognised it instantly. How could she forget the voice of the man who had caused her so much pain, so much misery over the years? Her tormentor, and now apparently her oppressor.
Malfoy.
He strode up the marble stairs, still carrying her like a sack of potatoes. Even Hermione had to admit, the man was strong. She was relatively light, but Malfoy had carried her up three floors, and he wasn’t even out of breath!
Malfoy Manor was as she had heard it to be. Everywhere she looked, there was overwhelming richness. The colour scheme was oh so very Slytherin, with black and green being the main colours, highlighted with silver. Even knowing that all this beauty and opulence was wasted on Death Eaters, Hermione couldn’t help being impressed.
But they’re still evil, she reminded herself. No matter how pretty their house is, they’re still evil, and should be destroyed.
Malfoy turned a final corner and faced two huge wooden double doors. Further along the corridor, more, single doors, stood.
All this Hermione could see in a conveniently placed mirror.
Malfoy kicked the door open, and walked into what seemed to be his bedroom. Hermione got a single glace at a chamber decorated in the same colours, but much less ornamental, before she was rather rudely dumped on the bed. Her gag vanished, but she remained trussed up.
Across the room, Malfoy stripped off his dark robes and mask. His icy hair and much despised features confirmed Hermione’s suspicions about his identity. But not why she was here.
Malfoy’s shirt came off next, and Hermione felt the blood rush to her face. Hard muscles slid under pale skin, as he splashed water over his face. His torso was chiselled, every muscle hard and defined. Suddenly Lavender’s years of drooling over ‘The Slytherin Sex God’ seemed to make a lot more sense. Malfoy looked up, water droplets dripping off his face and hair to slide down his chest, and saw her staring wide-eyed at him. Or more specifically, at the expanse of pale flesh that would make any right-minded woman drool.
No! Bad Hermione! Look away! Remember what he did to Ron! He’s your enemy! He’s a bigoted, egomaniacal, discriminatory, horrible git of a ferret. And he is defiantly not hot!!!!
Oh yeah?
Malfoy smirked. "See something you like, Granger?"
That egotistical maniac has the guts to sound superior! A blush spread out over her face, Hermione fought it down.
"No." She snapped at him, trying in vain to fight that irksome rush of blood.
Malfoy grinned viciously.
He swaggered across the room, ending up right in her personal space. One long pale finger traced down her face, following the curve of her jaw and down her throat, caressing her collarbone.
Hermione shivered involuntarily at the feel of his cool fingers.
His face drew closer to hers, and he smirked again.
"Are you sure, Granger? Because I see something I like. I see something I have wanted for a very long time."
All the air in that expansive room seemed to have disappeared. Or had it just abandoned her, in favor of someone much easier on the eyes?
And then he was gone, just leaving behind the smell of spearmint. Across the room, possibly the most annoying man she had ever met, was pulling on dark emerald robes over long black pants and a white button up.
Hermione struggled to sit up, still bound on his bed.
"What do you want me for, Malfoy? You didn't just bring me here for nothing."
He looked at her speculatively
"Per il mio cuore il desiderio." His voice was a husky whisper.
Hermione cocked her head.
"I don't speak whatever you're saying, Malfoy. English please?"
He laughed slightly, but the sound was cold. Empty.
"You're here, Granger, because I want you to be. Nothing more, nothing less."
There was something hidden behind that answer, and Hermione fully intended to find out what.
"I do however need a maid, Granger. So, while you're here, you'll attend to your duties, inside this room."
He lazily indicated a door off to the side of the room.
"That's you."
With a flick of his wand, her bindings were gone, and she sprung off the bed, rubbing her hands to return circulation. She took off towards her 'room'. It was preferable to staying here with Malfoy.
"Oh, and Granger?"
She glanced over her shoulder, stomach roiling at what he'd already said.
"Don't even think about trying to escape. It won't work."
Something about the way he said it meant she believed him.
Completely.
---
Inside Malfoy's guest room, everything displayed the same luxuriance that defined the rest of the manor. But with one difference.
Hermione didn't know if it was Malfoy, his house elf or just a coincidence, but this room was... warmer. Like the rest of the house, the main colours were green and black, but this time, there were hints of gold around the place.
The main furnishing in the room was an expansive curtained bed, with an emerald coverlet, and hundreds of cream and black pillows, delicately embroidered with swirling patterns of gold.
The bed looked so luxuriantly soft and comfortable that Hermione couldn't help wandering over to trail her fingers over the plush velvet.
Across the room, expansive windows allowed natural light to pore into the room, perfect for reading in the mornings.
And speaking of reading!
Beside the bed, covering almost the entire west wall was bookshelves, packed with thick tomes. Hermione's finger tingled as she traced one of the spines, reading the title printed there. These were ancient, precious books that made Hermione itch to tear through them. Very delicately.
Another door lead off into what Hermione hoped was the corridor, but just turned out to be the ensuite bathroom. White marble, with a swimming pool bathtub, like the ones they had in the prefects bathroom at Hogwarts.
Hermione snorted in derision. Only the Malfoys.
Entering back into her room, Hermione spotted a heavy wardrobe against the wall.
She examined the clothes, horror growing in her stomach.
Frilly maids uniforms, some straight out of a naughty fantasy, and some actually wearable to the more modest tastes. In the corner, two plain dresses, one white with a matching white coat lined with fur, and a black one, were the sole exceptions to her new 'closet'.
The dresses, uniform in their own way, were knee length, with bell shaped skirts, slim tops, and short sleeves. While they were more sensible then the others, Hermione still detested them, simply for their giver.
Hermione stepped back, hugging her clothes to her body. No way she was wearing any of these. Forget it.
Not a chance.
Hermione took another step back, desperately searching for a door. There had to be a way out. Anything. She couldn't stay here.
Hermione's back hit something hard. And warm. Oh no....
Malfoy's arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, squeezing her against his chest. He leaned down, resting his head against her shoulder. His warm tongue darted out to lath her neck.
"Malfoy! What are you doing?"
She tried, unsuccessfully, to wiggle out of his arms. All she succeeded in doing was pulling him closer.
"Like your room, Mudblood? I hope so, because you're going to be seeing an awful lot of it. But something's wrong. You don't look the part."
He smirked. She could feel it.
"Divesto."
The air in the room was very cold on her bare skin. But his breath was hot on her neck.
"MALFOY!"
He chuckled, the git, holding her flush against his body. His toned, perfectly muscled body.....
No! Bad Hermione!
She still had her underwear on, but that was about it. A humiliated flush enflaming her face. How dare he?!
Malfoy reached into the closet, and grabbed one of the racier costumes. He thrust it into her hands.
It was the kind of uniform that made men drool. A black bodice that would cling to every curve, with white strips, that lead to little white bows, sitting temptingly at the waistline. Sheer satiny bands with black embroidering would serve as 'sleeves'.
The skirt was tiny, and mostly see thought, with a lace underskirt that flared it out. Both of these barely reached mid-thigh. Black stockings topped with white bows perched underneath the skirt and ended in black, shiny stiletto heels.
A lace headband and black choker completed the outfit.
Disgust choked Hermione's throat.
No way she was wearing that! Ever.
No.
But apparently, Malfoy had different ideas.
He shoved her onto the bed and tossed the outfit after her.
"Get dressed, Granger."
"Go to hell!" She snarled at him.
"Now, now, Granger. Is that anyway to talk to your superiors?" The bloody git had the balls to wag his finger in her face, as if she was a naughty kindergartener.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, but either way, you are going to be my pretty little maid. So what's it going to be sweetheart?"
She tried to bite him.
Draco smirked. He was going to enjoy this.
"Hard way it is, Princess."
With a flick of his wand, she was immobilised on the bed.
Malfoy took the horrid dress off its hanger, and with a carefulness akin to reverence, began to dress her.
His hands were gentle as they traced down the smooth surface of her back, tracing her spine, before returning to linger along the pale column of her throat. He placed gentle kisses along her jawline, and along her collar, before easing the bodice of the costume on, each finger deftly buttoning and tying, lifting her hair to stop it from becoming caught and tug painfully.
Hermione saw puzzled by this strange turn of events. Malfoy, acting gently, even sweetly to her? Gryffindor Mudblood know-it-all?
Hermione shivered slightly, the feeling of those long pale fingers ghosting over her flesh, and his wicked, wicked mouth on her flesh too much. Even for her.
No! This was probably just one of his sick ploys to mess with her head. Once she was in his stupid 'uniform' he would start being a git again. She would NOT react and give him the satisfaction.
The sleeves came on next, and his subsequent caresses to her arms. All throughout it, Hermione remained strong and outwardly impassive, though inside she was shivering at his caress, and melting at the touch of his lips to her skin, all the while berating herself for it.
Finally the stupid impractical pieces of fabric were on, and they arrived at the item she had been most dreading.
The skirt.
He traced down her flat stomach, surprised to feel the definition of each muscle under his fingers. He followed the gentle curve of her hips, and rested briefly, hands moulding to their slope.
Hermione waited for his explorations to grow more insistent. For him to pry into intimate areas, force his lust. But instead, the warmth disappeared.
The softness of the skirt drew up her legs, tightened around her waist, until the skirt was fixed, and he moved on.
Her legs received the same treatment. The image of Draco Malfoy, kneeling reverently at her feet as he pulled on her stockings was not one Hermione would soon forget. The binding charm stifled her giggles as he slipped her feet into the ridiculous stilettos. She was reminded absurdly of Cinderella. Except she was not to be a princess. And Draco was not her Prince Charming.
Once the shoes were on, Draco sat down on the bed, and lifted her onto his lap.
His arms encircled her, pulling her even closer to him. He simply embraced her for a minute, before shifting her tumble of honey curls and sliding the lace headband in place. The final touch was the black choker, which Hermione could now see carried the crest of the Malfoy's.
She wanted to rip it off immediately. It was a collar, declaring her ownership. She was not Malfoy's possession!
He spun her around on his lap, and they sat, eyes locked, faces blank. She felt his magic dissipate, freeing her limbs from their leaden chains. But still, they stayed, lost in contemplation, drowning in each others eyes.
Draco jerked, hissing in pain. He dumped Hermione off his lap. Not expecting the move, she landed with a hard thump on the floor.
"Malfoy! What the hell?" He was already halfway out the door. Hermione lingered in the doorway, watching in cold dread as he changed into pure black robes, and picked up his Death Eater mask.
"Stay here. If anyone knocks on the door, do NOT answer it, and don't make a sound. If you do, you will be given to the Dark Lord. If you need anything, call Mizti. Do not try to escape. Clear?" Malfoy grabbed her chin, forcing her to look him dead in the face.
Hermione could feel the invisible manacles surrounding her, clenching her tighter to this man. Something in his eyes told her that as long as Malfoy wanted her, she would remain here. Even forever.
Ever so slowly, her hands inched to his left sleeve. He froze as she started to shift the material. And there, scarring the muscled flesh of his pale arm, was the grinning skull and serpent of the Dark Mark.
And then he was gone.
----------------------------
Hermione paced the room, anxiety setting in after nearly 2 hours since Malfoy left.
First, she had ransacked the rooms, searching for her wand, a knife, rope, anything! Then she had attempted to at least take off the bloody costume. But Ferret had charmed it, so it wouldn't move an inch. All she could do was kick off those inhumane shoes.
Hermione tried to settle down and enjoy some of the books on the selves in her room, but people kept knocking on the door, and calling for her. The constant interruption and catcalls finally took their toll, and she began to pace, needing some sort of physical diversion otherwise she would go mad.
The sun was sinking through those huge windows of hers, and Hermione was wondering if she would have to call Mizti for food after all, when Draco's double doors flew open with a bang.
Malfoy strode through, and the doors slammed behind him. His Death Eater mask sailed through the air to land with a clatter against the wall. Hermione, frozen in the corner, watched as he tore frantically at his black robes, dragging them off his body like they burned him. Soon, they followed the mask, leaving only the black pants and white button up as before. Only, this time, the white was marred by splatters of crimson. A spray across the chest, round drops on one cuff. His chest was a map of what had been a living breathing person, a history of what happened to them.
He turned, searching frantically for her. Hermione thought of hiding. Slipping back into her room, and trying to erase what she had seen.
His eyes found hers. In his, she saw a plea. A desperate wish, for understanding. For help, and comfort. All the things, despite the opulence that surrounded him, that he had been denied.
She could never deny one in need.
Hermione sat him down, not saying a word, but offering him the comfort of her presence.
She peeled off the bloodied shirt, holding her breath as the metallic tang of blood reached her nose. Dropping the shirt to the floor, she went to find a wash cloth, when his hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back to him.
"Hermione, please. Stay." He looked so sad then, so lost that Hermione couldn't help herself. She was a compassionate person, and the proud, cruel Draco Malfoy sitting, so... broken, made her want to cry.
She sunk back onto the bed, and pulled him into her arms. Although she initiated the hug, Hermione felt small and protected in his arms, the sheer size of him providing some sense of security.
"Draco?"
Her whisper in the silence of the room sounded giant. It sounded like it could bridge a gap between two enemies. Irreversibly bind them together, through the realms to time and space themselves. And fill the aching, empty space that consumed two hearts.
"Mmmm?" his voice was muffled from her mass of curls, but she could feel the relief compared to a few minutes ago.
"Why do you fight?" He pulled back from her neck and stared at Hermione for a moment, before letting go of her entirely. Hermione held her breath, afraid that she had made him angry.
Draco sighed softly, the wosh of air loud in the silent room.
"I fight because if I don't, I'll lose everything that means something to me. My mother, she remained strong through years of Father. When the war is over, she can be free. We both can. I fight because I believe that if we can change today, we can have a better tomorrow." Hermione was extremely relieved he hadn't said anything like 'to destroy all Mudbloods'.
Draco peered up at her through his bangs, spilling across his face.
"And, I fight to protect the ones I love."
With that, he pulled her to him and crushed his lips on hers. She gasped in surprise and he used this to gain access to her mouth, touching every part he could. He wrapped one arm around her waist, crushing her body to his, and with the other hand, grabbed her hair, and yanking it so that her head was thrown back. He smirked as his lips kissed down her jaw to her neck. "You want to see what I’ve been hiding, Hermione? Do you want to know why you are here? Exactly what I want you for?"
"Yes," she cried, tears in her eyes. "Please, yes!"
With her agreement then, he turned her around so that her back was pressed against his chest, keeping his arm around her waist. He latched onto her neck, sucking and licking it as she closed her eyes and tilted her neck to grant him better access.
His free hand pushed her robe down her shoulder, kissing the place it had been left. He could practically sense her frustration. She started to try and hurry him. To gain even the slightest dominance over the situation. Now they couldn't have that, could they? To prove his point, he bit her, breaking the skin. She whimpered in his arms.
"By the time I’m done with you, Granger," he said, finally stripping her of that bloody maid uniform, "you won’t be able to walk. You wont remember any of those swotty little facts that you used to make teachers adore you The only thing you’ll remember is calling out my name."
"Yes, make me forget," she begged, trying to turn. He didn’t let her. Instead, he took off her dress. Interestingly, he found that she had nothing on underneath, nothing but a lacy bra and matching knickers.
"Aha! Now we see the true you, Granger! Not such an innocent after all, are you, slut?"
He trailed his hand around to her face, sticking his finger into her hot mouth. She knew what he wanted from her and sucked on it. God, she knew what to do with that mouth. He could already feel himself reacting to this under his robes. He took his finger out and trailed down her neck to her breasts. He rubbed her through the lacy cotton, feeling her pebble nipples under his fingers. It pleased him to know the effect he clearly had on her.
He got an idea then, turning her to push her against his wall. He leaned forward, catching her nipples in his mouth through the material. She gasped at the pleasure of it. Hermione felt like she was on fire. Draco knew what to do with his hand, and oh his mouth. She longed for it to be back on hers. She tangled her fingers through his blond hair, trying to pull him back up, but he wouldn’t move from her breast. After pulling down the strap with his teeth he ran his tongue over her nipple in a circle. She moaned at the pleasure. After spending sufficient attention on one, he turned to the other and did the same thing. Hermione reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall.
He gripped her thigh painfully. "Did I say you could do that?" he growled.
Her eyes widened in fear. "I – I," she started.
He gripped her thigh again. "What did I say, Granger?" he said. "Don’t talk if I don’t tell you to. Or I may have to punish you."
She didn’t say anything, eyes still wide. Draco smiled to himself, pleased to have her like this. He was in complete control. He wanted to get back to what he was doing before. Kissing her lips, his hand trailed down to her knickers. "Do I make you wet, Granger?" he said against her lips. "Do I make you feel good?"
She stared at him as he pulled away, scared to answer. He smirked, and touched her cheek. "It’s okay, tell me."
"Yes," she said quietly.
"How good do I make you feel?" he said, putting his hands down, feeling her slight bush. He touched around the place he knew she wanted him to. "Tell me!" he demanded when she closed her eyes, biting her lip.
"S-so good," she whispered.
"Better than Weasley?" he asked. And with those words, he flicked her clit once, watching her moan at the feel before sticking two of his fingers into her wet pussy. And God was she wet. He began pumping his fingers in and out of her, eliciting moan after moan. He felt himself getting even harder. With his other hand, he grabbed his wand and rid them of all their clothes. Her naked body pressed against his, making him have to fight for control.
"Y-yes," she said, her eyes still closed. "Please, Draco."
"Draco?" he growled, stopping his fingers buried deep in her. "Did I say you could call me Draco? Seems like I’m going to have to teach you a lesson." She quivered in fear. He smirked. "Hmm what should it be?" He thought about it and had the perfect solution. He took his fingers out and her lip quivered. He smirked, wondering if that was from fear or the need to have his fingers back in her.
He moved away from her slightly and fell to his knees. She looked at him in horror, wondering what he was going to do now. He smirked, as he looked her right in the eyes before leaning forward and running his tongue over her slit. He closed his eyes and tasted her. "Hmm you must be a filthy little Mudblood to be so wet," he said, licking his lips. "Mm so sweet." He didn’t give her a chance to react to that. He leaned forward again, taking her clit into his mouth. She threw her head back in pleasure, hitting her head on the wall. She didn’t care though. What he was doing, the way he was making her feel, she would take any pain.
His teeth brushed against her clit and she moaned, grabbing his hair, trying to push him into her. He grabbed her thighs, and squeezed hard enough to make her yelp in pain. She let go. He glowered at her. "This is for me, not you," he sneered. He waved his wand and she found her hands tied above her head. He knew she was afraid and that made him even harder. He knew he’d need release soon. But he wanted her to get as much out of this as possible. It was the least he could do for having to see him like this after what Weasley had put her through.
He smirked as he leaned forward again, this time thrusting his tongue into her wet pussy. Over and over again he thrust his expert tongue deeper into her. She was moaning and thrashing before him, coming apart. After a few more thrusts, she came hard. He lapped her up and stood, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her tongue lick his lower lip, tasting herself. He had never had any girl do that willingly.
"So you are a filthy little Mudblood, aren’t you?" he smirked, cupping her breasts. He kissed her again before moving his head back to look her right in the eyes. "I am going to fuck you now," he said firmly. "I’m going to take you right here, right now. And when I'm done, you won't know know anything but me. You won’t know anything but how it feels to have me in you. You will come begging for me to take you again and again every night."
She mumbled something but he didn’t catch it. "What was that, Granger?" he smirked.
"Never," she said quietly.
He laughed at this. There was no conviction in her voice. He knew he had her already. He wouldn’t know how to please her, how to make her unravel. But Draco would show her what she was missing. "We’ll see, Hermione," he said, pressing his lips to hers again as he aligned himself with her entrance. He had never been this hard before and Hermione hadn’t even touched him. Watching her be pleased, knowing he was the one to make her come apart, it had been enough. His tongue rolled around with hers as he thrust himself deep into her ready pussy in one thrust. He wasn’t going to go slow. He had to make good on his promise, and as it was, he knew he wouldn’t last long if he did.
He moved his head back to stare into her eyes as he began to thrust into her, hard and fast. "Oh God," she moaned, not once letting her eyes waver. "Faster please."
He kissed her lightly. "As you wish," he said as he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist and started thrusting faster into her. She was moaning now, throwing her head back in pleasure. He growled at his own. "You’re so tight!" he moaned.
He knew his release was coming but he wanted to make sure she came first. He moved his hand between them, finding her clit. Rubbing circles on her bundle of nerves, he thrust harder into her every time. She was screaming now, her voice full of lust and pleasure. He smirked and kept thrusting his hips. "Come with me, Hermione. Let go," he whispered hoarsely. He rubbed her between them faster. Finally he felt her walls constrict around him.
"Draco," she screamed, his name falling from her lips in complete bliss.
He followed right after, her release the final touch for him. "Hermione," her name fell from his own lips as he came deep in her. He stayed in her still as they both panted against each other. She held her head up to look at him, smiling.
---
When Hermione woke up, hours later, Draco was still there, hand gently stroking her hair. He smiled down at her, and then leaned in for a soft kiss.
They lingered like that for a while, mouths gently exploring each others.
It was not lustful or very passionate. It was intense, peaceful and sweet.
They knew it couldn't end like this.
There was a war to fight and they stood on opposite sides.
But as their bodies entwined, there was nothing between them.
For tonight they were not Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy, Death Eater and Pureblood Malfoy heir.