Love to Watch (Draco/Hermione)
Title: Love to Watch
Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own, no sue.
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Summary: She knew he was watching.
A/N: This started off as an innocent fic, and then took a turn for the smutty. Which is scary cause I don’t write smut.
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Never let it be said that Hermione Granger didn’t appreciate a beautiful day.
Sure, the common room had a warm, cozy feel to it as she studied with her friends, but even she had to admit that today was a perfect day to study outside. The sun hung high in a cloudless sea of blue, a cool breeze passing through and rustling the leaves of the tree she was leaning against.
The rustling, however, was only evident to Hermione as the commotion around her seemed to grow with each passing minute.
Apparently, she had not been alone in thinking that the day was perfect to be outside. Most students were taking the opportunity to lounge with friends. (Harry and Ron included as they sat beside her, a wizard’s chess board between them as they discussed Quidditch.) However, quite a few of the fifth and seventh years had their noses in books much like herself, preparing feverishly for the upcoming O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S.
“You do realize the tests are a month away, correct?” Hermione said to her two companions, never taking her eyes off her advanced Arithmancy assignment.
“Hermione,” Ron sighed, his knight moving in on Harry’s, “get off it, will you? We’re prepared.”
“I highly doubt that.”
If Hermione had not been so intently studying her book, she would have seen Ron give her a disgruntled look.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed-- though it had been enough for Harry and Ron to be in the middle of a new game-- before she tore her eyes from her Arithmancy book.
“You know, there is such a thing as studying too much,“ Ron said as he noticed she had finally rejoined civilization.
“With the NEWTS, there’s never too much studying.”
Harry simply shook his head as Ron rolled his eyes at her. Hermione watched them play for a moment, amused that it had taken Harry nearly seven years to learn how to beat Ron at Wizard’s Chess, when she felt the sudden sensation of being watched. For anyone else, the sensation wouldn’t cause such a stir in nerves, but as one of Harry Potter’s closest friends, you tended to learn that being watched was not a good thing.
Goosebumps raising on her arms, Hermione cautiously turned her gaze from her friends and their game, her eyes slowly scanning over everyone present outside. When her gaze met that of a pair of cold, gray eyes, she frowned deeply.
Draco Malfoy sat a fair distance across the grounds from her, surrounded by his usual flock of followers. Crabbe and Goyle were busy trying out hexes on unfortunate first year Hufflepuffs who happened to pass by their group. Pansy Parkinson, the only girl in the despicable group, laughed loudly as the poor first years tried to escape the multiple hexes placed on them.
Malfoy, however, neither hexed nor laughed as he was too busy staring in a very annoying fashion. He smirked in her direction, and she narrowed her eyes angrily at him.
The prat.
Since they had returned for their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, much to her displeasure, he had taken a certain interest in watching her.
At first, she didn’t notice anything different. Malfoy had always had a tendency of watching her, Harry, and Ron-- plotting some sort of revenge against them. And the glances came at the usual times-- in the Great Hall, in Potions class, in the corridors between classes.
Then she slowly began to notice that sometimes Harry, the usual object of Malfoy’s stares, was not with her when he would give her that look. Sometimes, not even Ron. Only then, did she finally realize his focus was on her.
And what had once been simply annoying became a bit unnerving.
Nothing good ever came from having Malfoy focus his attention on you; it simply meant he was plotting some new way for your demise. And though she would have called him a sniveling whiny spoiled brat to his face when they were thirteen, or hell even eleven, without even a hint hesitation, things had changed since then. Like how since an apparent growth spurt over the summer before their sixth year, his presence had become more commanding, and Hermione would admit to no one but herself, a bit intimidating.
She still stood up to him when given the chance. There was no way in hell she would let someone like Malfoy scare her into submission, but she chose her battles more wisely now.
So she never verbally confronted him about this new irritating hobby of his. She’d simply throw him her best disapproving look, to which he would give her that trademark smirk of his and go about his business.
Just like he was doing now…..
“Earth to Hermione.”
Hermione snapped from her thoughts at Ron’s voice, quickly turning her attention back to her friends. Both boys gave her a quizzical look.
“You okay?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hermione nodded, gathering up all her school items that she had spread out around her. “Actually, I think I’m going to the library for a bit.”
Both boys stared at her.
“I’m fine, really,” she said with a quiet laugh, getting to her feet. “I’ll see you in the common room.”
With that, she gave them a wave and made her way back towards Hogwarts. On her way, she passed Malfoy and his entourage (who were still busy laughing at the expense of their fellow students), but she didn’t venture a look in his direction.
She knew he was watching her.
He always did.
--------
Draco watched as Hermione Granger quickly turned her eyes from his as Potter and Weasley pestered her about something. His smirk only grew as he watched her hastily gathering her belongings and tossing them in her bag.
He had gotten under her skin.
She walked proudly by him and his friends, bag held close to her body and head held high. She didn’t dare to look in their direction as she passed, and that only amused him more.
She probably assumed he was plotting her demise.
She was sorely mistaken.
Not that his recent interest in watching her had anything to do with fancying her either.
The girl was an annoyingly stubborn, know-it-all mudblood. Not to mention Harry’s third-in-command. He hated her when he first laid eyes on her when they were eleven and that hatred had not been sated in the past seven years in her grating company.
However, even though he would never admit it to anyone and would gladly take it to his grave, he had to admit that the know-it-all Granger had actually turned into somewhat of a looker.
The surprise of the century there. Granger. Pretty. There was an oxymoron if he had ever seen one.
The first time she had caught him staring, she had held the stare defiantly for a moment before finally turning away with a look of disgust. From that moment on, Draco knew that he had found a new way to entertain himself while irritating the bloody hell out of the girl.
Unfortunately when you spent that many hours of the day focusing on one entity, it tended to seep into your subconscious. Many nights he had found himself tossing and turning before finally kicking back the sheets of his bed, grabbing his robes, and heading to the privacy of the Prefects’ bathroom. It had been nothing new for him. Some nights he needed a release in order to sleep, and he had found that a little fantasizing was just what he needed. Fantasizing about girls he had been with. Girls he hadn’t, and girls he never would.
And recently when he went to the privacy of the bathrooms, the only thing on his mind was prim and proper Granger.
Maybe that was what intrigued him more than anything. No one could be that proper, that chaste. Not even someone wound as tight as Granger. Even she had to have a darker side that not even Potter and Weasel knew about.
And he planned to find it out.
“Where are you going?” Pansy asked as he stood.
“No where you lot need to be,” he replied, stepping away.
They watched him for a moment before returning to their previous tormenting, each of them figuring Draco was in one of his classic moods.
He *was* in a mood, but not the one they were assuming.
----------
Hermione stood in the library stacks, searching for a book to help with her Potions essay that was due in two weeks.
She had felt a ball of tension at the pit of her stomach when she had first stepped into the library, her mind still on Malfoy and his staring. Intimidating stature or not, she was going to confront him about it the next time they crossed paths. She’d put a stop to it even if it meant cursing him in the middle of class.
“Such a creature of habit, Granger.”
Hermione looked from her shelf to see Malfoy at the end of the aisle, arms crossed over his chest. She frowned deeply, ignoring the wave of nerves through her stomach. Feigning indifference, she turned her gaze back to the bookcase.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she said casually. “I didn’t realize you knew where the library was located.”
“I was looking for you actually,” he replied, stepping further into the aisle and effectively closing the gap between them with only a few steps.
“And why exactly?” she asked, looking over at him.
He simply offered her that cocky smirk in response.
“By the way,” she said, her irritation raised by that simple curl of his lips, “if you don’t stop your insistent staring at me? I’ll be forced to do something very unlike myself.”
“Oh really?” he replied with the raise of an amused eyebrow.
“Really,” she scowled.
With that, she proceeded further into the aisle, continuing her search as if it had never been interrupted.
“Did you ever wonder why exactly I’ve been watching you?”
“No,” she replied simply, not even turning to look at him.
He closed the gap between them again, lingering over her shoulder. “Not even curious in the least, huh?” he asked, his breath warm against her cheek.
If her life had been a multiple choice test, the logical Hermione would have chosen any of the answers that ended with her turning around and cursing Malfoy where he stood. Much to the displeasure of the Hermione who now stood nearly pinned between Draco Malfoy’s body and the bookcase, logical Hermione had apparently gone to lunch.
“Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on the books at her eyelevel. “Why?”
In response, she felt the hem of her skirt slide up her thigh. She let out an audible gasp, and Malfoy chuckled.
“You said you wanted to know why,” he replied, leaning in closer to her.
Hermione silently pleaded with her logical side to kick in, to take over at any moment. Because her logical side would not stand here, letting Malfoy’s cool hand slide up her thigh. Her logical side would turn around and beat the hell out of him with her own hands if necessary. Her logical side would definitely not think about the rush overcoming her at the moment.
“So are you really as prim and proper as you want us all to believe, Granger?” he asked, his hand making its way to the edge of her panties.
She held her breath. “As much as you’re an egotistical spoiled brat.”
He chuckled again, and Hermione was quite sure he had that damn smirk on his face again, but she had no time to think about how much that irritated her as his fingers slid under the edge of her panties. As if on a will of their own, her legs spread apart, giving him better access.
Malfoy laughed slightly, his fingers slipping between the warmth of her folds. “Well, I guess we’re not so prim and proper after all, huh?”
Hermione grabbed the edge of the shelf in front of her, gripping it tightly. “Shut. Up,” she managed between ragged breaths.
He gently stroked her, his free hand slipping under her blouse. He squeezed her breast through the lacy fabric of her bra, and she groaned, biting her lip to keep from making more noise.
Logical Hermione knew that being caught this way was not the best of ideas at the moment for many reasons. One of which was that she didn’t want this moment to end quite yet.
Malfoy pulled her body closer to his, and she could feel his hardness pressing against her through the layers of fabric that separated them. He slid his wet fingers inside her, and she bucked with a whimper, eliciting a guttural growl from him against her neck. His hand found a rhythm and he grinded himself against her, getting his own release while he gave her hers.
Her legs grew weak as a surge went through her. She inhaled sharply, attempting to will herself to stay as quiet as possible as her body shook against his. Malfoy placed a hand over her mouth, and she moaned loudly against his palm. His hand remained there until the last shiver passed through her body.
His hand slid away from her mouth and down her body, resting under her breasts. His other remained under her skirt, causing her to twitch reflexively even as it rested on top of the damp cloth of her panties.
“Didn’t need Madam Pince coming over before we were finished,” he said against her cheek.
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to return her breathing to a more suitable level. She felt his hand slide away, her skirt falling back over her legs, and she silently cursed herself for wanting him to stay. He took a step back from her, their embrace finally parted.
She turned to him, willing herself to say something. Anything. “You’re still an egotistical spoiled brat,” she managed half-heartedly.
He smirked, stepping up to her. “I may be, but you’re not so pure anymore yourself.” He stepped back from her, starting down the aisle. “I’ll be seeing you around, Granger,” he called to her from over his shoulder.
And Hermione knew he would.
Because she knew he was watching her.
He always did.
Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own, no sue.
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Summary: She knew he was watching.
A/N: This started off as an innocent fic, and then took a turn for the smutty. Which is scary cause I don’t write smut.
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Never let it be said that Hermione Granger didn’t appreciate a beautiful day.
Sure, the common room had a warm, cozy feel to it as she studied with her friends, but even she had to admit that today was a perfect day to study outside. The sun hung high in a cloudless sea of blue, a cool breeze passing through and rustling the leaves of the tree she was leaning against.
The rustling, however, was only evident to Hermione as the commotion around her seemed to grow with each passing minute.
Apparently, she had not been alone in thinking that the day was perfect to be outside. Most students were taking the opportunity to lounge with friends. (Harry and Ron included as they sat beside her, a wizard’s chess board between them as they discussed Quidditch.) However, quite a few of the fifth and seventh years had their noses in books much like herself, preparing feverishly for the upcoming O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S.
“You do realize the tests are a month away, correct?” Hermione said to her two companions, never taking her eyes off her advanced Arithmancy assignment.
“Hermione,” Ron sighed, his knight moving in on Harry’s, “get off it, will you? We’re prepared.”
“I highly doubt that.”
If Hermione had not been so intently studying her book, she would have seen Ron give her a disgruntled look.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed-- though it had been enough for Harry and Ron to be in the middle of a new game-- before she tore her eyes from her Arithmancy book.
“You know, there is such a thing as studying too much,“ Ron said as he noticed she had finally rejoined civilization.
“With the NEWTS, there’s never too much studying.”
Harry simply shook his head as Ron rolled his eyes at her. Hermione watched them play for a moment, amused that it had taken Harry nearly seven years to learn how to beat Ron at Wizard’s Chess, when she felt the sudden sensation of being watched. For anyone else, the sensation wouldn’t cause such a stir in nerves, but as one of Harry Potter’s closest friends, you tended to learn that being watched was not a good thing.
Goosebumps raising on her arms, Hermione cautiously turned her gaze from her friends and their game, her eyes slowly scanning over everyone present outside. When her gaze met that of a pair of cold, gray eyes, she frowned deeply.
Draco Malfoy sat a fair distance across the grounds from her, surrounded by his usual flock of followers. Crabbe and Goyle were busy trying out hexes on unfortunate first year Hufflepuffs who happened to pass by their group. Pansy Parkinson, the only girl in the despicable group, laughed loudly as the poor first years tried to escape the multiple hexes placed on them.
Malfoy, however, neither hexed nor laughed as he was too busy staring in a very annoying fashion. He smirked in her direction, and she narrowed her eyes angrily at him.
The prat.
Since they had returned for their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, much to her displeasure, he had taken a certain interest in watching her.
At first, she didn’t notice anything different. Malfoy had always had a tendency of watching her, Harry, and Ron-- plotting some sort of revenge against them. And the glances came at the usual times-- in the Great Hall, in Potions class, in the corridors between classes.
Then she slowly began to notice that sometimes Harry, the usual object of Malfoy’s stares, was not with her when he would give her that look. Sometimes, not even Ron. Only then, did she finally realize his focus was on her.
And what had once been simply annoying became a bit unnerving.
Nothing good ever came from having Malfoy focus his attention on you; it simply meant he was plotting some new way for your demise. And though she would have called him a sniveling whiny spoiled brat to his face when they were thirteen, or hell even eleven, without even a hint hesitation, things had changed since then. Like how since an apparent growth spurt over the summer before their sixth year, his presence had become more commanding, and Hermione would admit to no one but herself, a bit intimidating.
She still stood up to him when given the chance. There was no way in hell she would let someone like Malfoy scare her into submission, but she chose her battles more wisely now.
So she never verbally confronted him about this new irritating hobby of his. She’d simply throw him her best disapproving look, to which he would give her that trademark smirk of his and go about his business.
Just like he was doing now…..
“Earth to Hermione.”
Hermione snapped from her thoughts at Ron’s voice, quickly turning her attention back to her friends. Both boys gave her a quizzical look.
“You okay?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hermione nodded, gathering up all her school items that she had spread out around her. “Actually, I think I’m going to the library for a bit.”
Both boys stared at her.
“I’m fine, really,” she said with a quiet laugh, getting to her feet. “I’ll see you in the common room.”
With that, she gave them a wave and made her way back towards Hogwarts. On her way, she passed Malfoy and his entourage (who were still busy laughing at the expense of their fellow students), but she didn’t venture a look in his direction.
She knew he was watching her.
He always did.
--------
Draco watched as Hermione Granger quickly turned her eyes from his as Potter and Weasley pestered her about something. His smirk only grew as he watched her hastily gathering her belongings and tossing them in her bag.
He had gotten under her skin.
She walked proudly by him and his friends, bag held close to her body and head held high. She didn’t dare to look in their direction as she passed, and that only amused him more.
She probably assumed he was plotting her demise.
She was sorely mistaken.
Not that his recent interest in watching her had anything to do with fancying her either.
The girl was an annoyingly stubborn, know-it-all mudblood. Not to mention Harry’s third-in-command. He hated her when he first laid eyes on her when they were eleven and that hatred had not been sated in the past seven years in her grating company.
However, even though he would never admit it to anyone and would gladly take it to his grave, he had to admit that the know-it-all Granger had actually turned into somewhat of a looker.
The surprise of the century there. Granger. Pretty. There was an oxymoron if he had ever seen one.
The first time she had caught him staring, she had held the stare defiantly for a moment before finally turning away with a look of disgust. From that moment on, Draco knew that he had found a new way to entertain himself while irritating the bloody hell out of the girl.
Unfortunately when you spent that many hours of the day focusing on one entity, it tended to seep into your subconscious. Many nights he had found himself tossing and turning before finally kicking back the sheets of his bed, grabbing his robes, and heading to the privacy of the Prefects’ bathroom. It had been nothing new for him. Some nights he needed a release in order to sleep, and he had found that a little fantasizing was just what he needed. Fantasizing about girls he had been with. Girls he hadn’t, and girls he never would.
And recently when he went to the privacy of the bathrooms, the only thing on his mind was prim and proper Granger.
Maybe that was what intrigued him more than anything. No one could be that proper, that chaste. Not even someone wound as tight as Granger. Even she had to have a darker side that not even Potter and Weasel knew about.
And he planned to find it out.
“Where are you going?” Pansy asked as he stood.
“No where you lot need to be,” he replied, stepping away.
They watched him for a moment before returning to their previous tormenting, each of them figuring Draco was in one of his classic moods.
He *was* in a mood, but not the one they were assuming.
----------
Hermione stood in the library stacks, searching for a book to help with her Potions essay that was due in two weeks.
She had felt a ball of tension at the pit of her stomach when she had first stepped into the library, her mind still on Malfoy and his staring. Intimidating stature or not, she was going to confront him about it the next time they crossed paths. She’d put a stop to it even if it meant cursing him in the middle of class.
“Such a creature of habit, Granger.”
Hermione looked from her shelf to see Malfoy at the end of the aisle, arms crossed over his chest. She frowned deeply, ignoring the wave of nerves through her stomach. Feigning indifference, she turned her gaze back to the bookcase.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she said casually. “I didn’t realize you knew where the library was located.”
“I was looking for you actually,” he replied, stepping further into the aisle and effectively closing the gap between them with only a few steps.
“And why exactly?” she asked, looking over at him.
He simply offered her that cocky smirk in response.
“By the way,” she said, her irritation raised by that simple curl of his lips, “if you don’t stop your insistent staring at me? I’ll be forced to do something very unlike myself.”
“Oh really?” he replied with the raise of an amused eyebrow.
“Really,” she scowled.
With that, she proceeded further into the aisle, continuing her search as if it had never been interrupted.
“Did you ever wonder why exactly I’ve been watching you?”
“No,” she replied simply, not even turning to look at him.
He closed the gap between them again, lingering over her shoulder. “Not even curious in the least, huh?” he asked, his breath warm against her cheek.
If her life had been a multiple choice test, the logical Hermione would have chosen any of the answers that ended with her turning around and cursing Malfoy where he stood. Much to the displeasure of the Hermione who now stood nearly pinned between Draco Malfoy’s body and the bookcase, logical Hermione had apparently gone to lunch.
“Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes trained on the books at her eyelevel. “Why?”
In response, she felt the hem of her skirt slide up her thigh. She let out an audible gasp, and Malfoy chuckled.
“You said you wanted to know why,” he replied, leaning in closer to her.
Hermione silently pleaded with her logical side to kick in, to take over at any moment. Because her logical side would not stand here, letting Malfoy’s cool hand slide up her thigh. Her logical side would turn around and beat the hell out of him with her own hands if necessary. Her logical side would definitely not think about the rush overcoming her at the moment.
“So are you really as prim and proper as you want us all to believe, Granger?” he asked, his hand making its way to the edge of her panties.
She held her breath. “As much as you’re an egotistical spoiled brat.”
He chuckled again, and Hermione was quite sure he had that damn smirk on his face again, but she had no time to think about how much that irritated her as his fingers slid under the edge of her panties. As if on a will of their own, her legs spread apart, giving him better access.
Malfoy laughed slightly, his fingers slipping between the warmth of her folds. “Well, I guess we’re not so prim and proper after all, huh?”
Hermione grabbed the edge of the shelf in front of her, gripping it tightly. “Shut. Up,” she managed between ragged breaths.
He gently stroked her, his free hand slipping under her blouse. He squeezed her breast through the lacy fabric of her bra, and she groaned, biting her lip to keep from making more noise.
Logical Hermione knew that being caught this way was not the best of ideas at the moment for many reasons. One of which was that she didn’t want this moment to end quite yet.
Malfoy pulled her body closer to his, and she could feel his hardness pressing against her through the layers of fabric that separated them. He slid his wet fingers inside her, and she bucked with a whimper, eliciting a guttural growl from him against her neck. His hand found a rhythm and he grinded himself against her, getting his own release while he gave her hers.
Her legs grew weak as a surge went through her. She inhaled sharply, attempting to will herself to stay as quiet as possible as her body shook against his. Malfoy placed a hand over her mouth, and she moaned loudly against his palm. His hand remained there until the last shiver passed through her body.
His hand slid away from her mouth and down her body, resting under her breasts. His other remained under her skirt, causing her to twitch reflexively even as it rested on top of the damp cloth of her panties.
“Didn’t need Madam Pince coming over before we were finished,” he said against her cheek.
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to return her breathing to a more suitable level. She felt his hand slide away, her skirt falling back over her legs, and she silently cursed herself for wanting him to stay. He took a step back from her, their embrace finally parted.
She turned to him, willing herself to say something. Anything. “You’re still an egotistical spoiled brat,” she managed half-heartedly.
He smirked, stepping up to her. “I may be, but you’re not so pure anymore yourself.” He stepped back from her, starting down the aisle. “I’ll be seeing you around, Granger,” he called to her from over his shoulder.
And Hermione knew he would.
Because she knew he was watching her.
He always did.