Love to Touch (Hermione/Draco)
Title: Love to Touch
Author: Tonya (tcooksey@gmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own. No sue.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R (smut alert)
Summary: Follow up to “Love to Watch”. Hermione knows she can’t do this anymore.
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The Great Hall was filled with its normal dinnertime chatter from students and faculty. Everyone was engaged in some form of conversation. Everyone with the exception of Draco Malfoy.
Beside him, Theodore Nott was prattling on to Crabbe and Goyle about one of his latest conquests. Draco simply gave a roll of his eyes and blocked the other boy out, not wanting to hear such details and especially not over a meal. Instead, he focused his attention on his own conquest.
Who, at the moment, was sitting at her own house table, laughing alongside her friends with Weasley’s arm draped lazily around her shoulders.
Draco studied Hermione as she sat among friends, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. For a fleeting moment as he watched her interact with Weasley, he felt a pang deep in the pit of his stomach. The know-it-all brunette probably would have called it jealousy, but Draco knew better. It was far from jealousy. It was a ball of irritation that the Weasel had the audacity to touch something of his. That pang, however, dissipated as quickly as it had formed as the frown he had felt tugging at his lips turned to a smirk. He drank from his glass of pumpkin juice as the new wave of satisfaction washed over him.
Weasley, in all his thickness, had no clue that for the past three months Draco had been doing things to his girlfriend that the redhead could only dream about doing. Had no clue that every excuse she made to study by herself in the library was only a ruse. Had no clue that while he was safely tucked away in his tower each night, his girlfriend was off servicing and being serviced by the enemy.
And that amused Draco more than words.
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Something clicked into place in Hermione’s gut.
She laughed quietly, distracted, at a joke Ginny made from beside Harry, her gaze traveling just over the other girl’s shoulder. Beyond Ginny, she could see Draco sitting between Nott and Parkinson, his gaze focused solely on her. He gave her that classic smirk of his when their eyes locked, and she resisted the urge to return the gesture. Instead, she held the stare defiantly for a moment, looking away before anyone would notice her distraction.
That was not something she could risk.
For the past few months, Hermione wanted to plead temporary insanity. That was the only logical reason she could have for associating with Malfoy the way she had been doing. Things had escalated between them since their impromptu meeting in the library stacks, where unsaid things between them had reached a climax so to speak. Since that afternoon, they’d been seeing more of each other. Not for conversation, but simply for unemotional make out sessions.
Hermione didn’t know, didn’t understand, why she didn’t just put an end to the whole fiasco. Especially considering the repercussions if any of her friends ever found out what she did when they weren’t looking. Quite frankly, that was a fallout she didn’t even want to imagine.
Hermione was snapped from her reverie as the students began to file out of the Great Hall and head for their respective common rooms. She and her friends followed suit, Harry and Ron deep in discussion about the upcoming Quidditch game against Slytherin.
“Watch it, Weasel.”
As if on cue, Malfoy and his entourage pushed their way by, effectively knocking into both Ron and Harry in the process.
“Why don’t you bloody watch yourself, Malfoy?” Ron shot back.
At that, Malfoy turned to them with a sneer. “I can watch myself just fine.”
He turned his sneer on her, and Hermione held her breath. She waited for him to make some snide remark in her direction, to give the façade that things in their world were not askew, but he didn’t. He simply chuckled under his breath, turned, and continued on his way. As she watched him go, she could feel Ron tense up at her side, and she knew the thoughts that were running through his head.
“Let it go, Ron,” she said, finally turning her gaze to him. She looked around him at Harry. “Both of you. He just does it to get a rise out of you.”
“I can’t wait to knock him off his broom next match,” Harry growled as they started towards their tower again.
Ron joined in on the sentiments of wanting to do Malfoy bodily harm, but Hermione heard very little of it. Her mind was still focused on that final look Malfoy had given her. To everyone else, it had seemed like the same arrogant look he had always given them, but Hermione could tell the difference now. That look had been specifically for her. He knew it, and she knew it. And luckily for her, her friends were still none the wiser.
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Hermione yawned as she neared the end of her patrol. After dinner, she had sat around the common room with the others but had soon excused herself to make her nightly rounds. As Head Girl, she and Head Boy Ernie MacMillan were responsible for making sure there were no students loitering around the corridors beyond curfew. He did his assigned areas of the castle, and she did hers, which included the halls near the Slytherin dungeons.
At the beginning of the term, she had dreaded the assignment. She had almost thought about convincing MacMillan to switch her for the Ravenclaw halls, but had decided against it. It was not in her nature to talk her way out of a job assigned specifically to her so she had simply accepted the assignment with nothing but overwhelming dread.
Funny how things could change in a few months.
Hermione yawned again, ready to return to the softness of her bed for a good night’s rest. The yawn became a quiet yelp of surprise as a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her into one of the darkened offshoots of the hallway.
She knew who it was before they secured her against the wall, their warm lips on hers. Hermione felt Draco’s hand entangle itself in her hair, pulling her head to the side.
“Like clockwork,” he growled against her throat, his breath warm against her skin.
She closed her eyes, a shiver making its way through her body as the tip of his tongue made its way up her neck. She fought hard to keep in the moan that so badly wanted to pass by her lips. The insanity of this situation hit her again as she placed her hands firmly against his chest, her fingers clenching as he found that spot right below her earlobe that he knew drove her out of her mind. She felt his lips curve into a knowing smirk, and she finally found her voice.
“No,” she managed from somewhere deep in her throat, although even she had to admit that that no had sounded like anything but that.
Draco laughed, tilting his head to look up her. “No?”
His robe still bunched in her hands, she held his stare. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He gave another chuckle, bracing himself against the wall and effectively caging Hermione’s head between his arms. “Granger, I believe we have this same discussion every few weeks. And if my memory serves me right?” He grinned deviously. “It always ends the same.”
Hermione kept her eyes locked on his, determined. She finally dropped her hands from his chest, placing her palms flat against the hard wall. “Not tonight.”
“And what, pray tell, makes tonight any different?”
“Because I say it is.”
He simply smirked her, dropping a hand from the wall and trailing his fingers down her neck. Between her breasts and down her stomach until he found the separation between her shirt and skirt. The smirk only intensified as he slipped his hand under her shirt, making Hermione close her eyes as his fingers left tingling trails as they moved up her side.
“I say it’s not,” he said, leaning into her.
Hermione opened her eyes, meeting his hypnotic gray ones. “You don’t have control here.”
He raised an amused eyebrow. “And you do?”
“More than you.”
“I’m not keeping you here against your will, you know,” he said with a sneer.
“Your body language at the moment contradicts that.”
He leaned close into her again, his hair falling across the side of his face, and it took every bone in Hermione’s body not to reach up and tuck the loose strands back behind his ear.
“You want to end it?” he said in a husky whisper. “Be my guest, Granger.”
Hermione closed her eyes. She hated this. She hated that he had this weird, indescribable power over her. She hated that her body responded to him this way, pulse racing, body aching. She hated that she was here with him when she should have been elsewhere with the boy she actually loved.
“Lost in thought, Granger?”
She could hear the amusement on his voice. He knew, just as she, that he had the upper hand in this situation. “I’m thinking about how you’re not Ron,” she said, finally opening her eyes.
“And I think we should both be grateful for that.”
She glared at him. “You’d be *lucky* to be like him,” she snapped. “At least he’s not some heartless, self-involved prat.”
If Hermione had hoped her words would chink at Draco’s armor, she would have been disappointed. He simply studied her with the same amused expression.
“So why aren’t you with your dear Ronald right now?”
Hermione hesitated. Why *wasn’t* she with Ron right now? She could have finished her patrol, returned to the towers, and spent the rest of the night with him. And yet here she was, letting herself be touched and kissed by Draco Malfoy.
He smirked at her silence. “Maybe cause he doesn’t know what makes you tick.”
He leaned into her again, his lips finding that spot on her neck. She moaned against the sensation, cursing herself silently as her hands seemingly worked on a will of their own, tangling themselves in his pale blond hair.
His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke again. “Maybe because he can’t make you wet like I do.”
Hermione’s hands tightened in his hair as she pulled him from her neck. “Must you be so crude?” she breathed.
His lips found hers again, and he pressed himself against her, pinning her solid between the wall and his lean frame. She grunted softly against his lips as his hands slid up her skirt, his fingers finding the edge of her panties. He pulled away from her as he knelt in front of her, helping her pull them off.
“If we get caught….” she began as he returned level with her.
“We won’t,” he countered before taking a handful of her hair in his hands and bringing her lips aggressively to his, devouring her.
Hermione’s hands found the button and zipper on his slacks, undoing them with ease. Her fingers brushed against his hardness as she pushed the pants away, eliciting a guttural growl from Draco. Her lips and tongue never leaving his, she slid her fingers into the opening of his boxers and wrapped her fingers around him.
He pulled away from her, bringing an arm under her rear and lifting her off the ground. Her back braced against the hard concrete wall, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looped around his neck. She slowly lowered herself onto him as he cupped her ass in his hands.
“This is wrong,” she managed between breaths.
“You keep telling yourself that, Granger.” He smirked up at her before thrusting into her, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip to keep from making noise, screaming his name.
She leaned forward as she slowly rode him, taking his mouth to hers, anything to quiet herself. He smirked against her lips, and she resisted the urge to bite him and get that stupid sneer off his face. But she didn’t. Instead, she squeezed her legs tighter around him, bringing him in closer, deeper. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, biting down. Bruising her. Marking her.
His whispered name slipped by her lips, her body trembling with the coming wave. Her muscles clenched around him, and he hissed against her neck. He came with one last thrust, her body milking him dry. He pinned her fully against the wall with his weight, kissing her and silencing the sounds she couldn’t hold in any longer.
He pulled his lips away from hers, giving her enough room to breathe. “You can’t do this, huh?” he smirked.
Hermione closed her eyes, silent, as he buried his face against her neck.
She really hated this. She hated the way he smelled when he was this close to her, the intoxicating aroma of faint aftershave mixed with sweat. She hated the way that he tasted in her mouth, leaving her craving more. She hated the way his body seemed to mold perfectly to hers.
She hated this.
She hated that at some point when she wasn’t looking, she’d let these detached, emotionless encounters become more than that in her head.
“I can’t do this,” she said mostly to herself, her eyes still closed.
She finally opened her eyes as he slipped out of her. Pinned against the wall for balance, she unwrapped her legs from around him and slid down until her feet were firmly back on the floor. He studied her with those piercing eyes as he redid his pants.
“You sure about that?” he asked, amused.
She should have been sure. This should have been the most definite choice she had ever made in her life. This should have been a no-brainer for someone as logical and straightforward as her.
But she didn’t have the answer to that question so she said the only thing she could think of.
“Good night, Malfoy.”
He retrieved her discarded panties from the floor, twirling them around his finger. “You want these?”
She only glared at him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he smirked, placing them in his pocket. “Night, Granger.”
Hermione threw him another evil glare before starting away on still-shaky legs. She could feel his gaze following her, and as she turned the corner out of the corridor, she tried to convince herself that that had been it.
The insanity would end tonight.
Because she couldn’t do this anymore.
Author: Tonya (tcooksey@gmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own. No sue.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: R (smut alert)
Summary: Follow up to “Love to Watch”. Hermione knows she can’t do this anymore.
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The Great Hall was filled with its normal dinnertime chatter from students and faculty. Everyone was engaged in some form of conversation. Everyone with the exception of Draco Malfoy.
Beside him, Theodore Nott was prattling on to Crabbe and Goyle about one of his latest conquests. Draco simply gave a roll of his eyes and blocked the other boy out, not wanting to hear such details and especially not over a meal. Instead, he focused his attention on his own conquest.
Who, at the moment, was sitting at her own house table, laughing alongside her friends with Weasley’s arm draped lazily around her shoulders.
Draco studied Hermione as she sat among friends, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. For a fleeting moment as he watched her interact with Weasley, he felt a pang deep in the pit of his stomach. The know-it-all brunette probably would have called it jealousy, but Draco knew better. It was far from jealousy. It was a ball of irritation that the Weasel had the audacity to touch something of his. That pang, however, dissipated as quickly as it had formed as the frown he had felt tugging at his lips turned to a smirk. He drank from his glass of pumpkin juice as the new wave of satisfaction washed over him.
Weasley, in all his thickness, had no clue that for the past three months Draco had been doing things to his girlfriend that the redhead could only dream about doing. Had no clue that every excuse she made to study by herself in the library was only a ruse. Had no clue that while he was safely tucked away in his tower each night, his girlfriend was off servicing and being serviced by the enemy.
And that amused Draco more than words.
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Something clicked into place in Hermione’s gut.
She laughed quietly, distracted, at a joke Ginny made from beside Harry, her gaze traveling just over the other girl’s shoulder. Beyond Ginny, she could see Draco sitting between Nott and Parkinson, his gaze focused solely on her. He gave her that classic smirk of his when their eyes locked, and she resisted the urge to return the gesture. Instead, she held the stare defiantly for a moment, looking away before anyone would notice her distraction.
That was not something she could risk.
For the past few months, Hermione wanted to plead temporary insanity. That was the only logical reason she could have for associating with Malfoy the way she had been doing. Things had escalated between them since their impromptu meeting in the library stacks, where unsaid things between them had reached a climax so to speak. Since that afternoon, they’d been seeing more of each other. Not for conversation, but simply for unemotional make out sessions.
Hermione didn’t know, didn’t understand, why she didn’t just put an end to the whole fiasco. Especially considering the repercussions if any of her friends ever found out what she did when they weren’t looking. Quite frankly, that was a fallout she didn’t even want to imagine.
Hermione was snapped from her reverie as the students began to file out of the Great Hall and head for their respective common rooms. She and her friends followed suit, Harry and Ron deep in discussion about the upcoming Quidditch game against Slytherin.
“Watch it, Weasel.”
As if on cue, Malfoy and his entourage pushed their way by, effectively knocking into both Ron and Harry in the process.
“Why don’t you bloody watch yourself, Malfoy?” Ron shot back.
At that, Malfoy turned to them with a sneer. “I can watch myself just fine.”
He turned his sneer on her, and Hermione held her breath. She waited for him to make some snide remark in her direction, to give the façade that things in their world were not askew, but he didn’t. He simply chuckled under his breath, turned, and continued on his way. As she watched him go, she could feel Ron tense up at her side, and she knew the thoughts that were running through his head.
“Let it go, Ron,” she said, finally turning her gaze to him. She looked around him at Harry. “Both of you. He just does it to get a rise out of you.”
“I can’t wait to knock him off his broom next match,” Harry growled as they started towards their tower again.
Ron joined in on the sentiments of wanting to do Malfoy bodily harm, but Hermione heard very little of it. Her mind was still focused on that final look Malfoy had given her. To everyone else, it had seemed like the same arrogant look he had always given them, but Hermione could tell the difference now. That look had been specifically for her. He knew it, and she knew it. And luckily for her, her friends were still none the wiser.
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Hermione yawned as she neared the end of her patrol. After dinner, she had sat around the common room with the others but had soon excused herself to make her nightly rounds. As Head Girl, she and Head Boy Ernie MacMillan were responsible for making sure there were no students loitering around the corridors beyond curfew. He did his assigned areas of the castle, and she did hers, which included the halls near the Slytherin dungeons.
At the beginning of the term, she had dreaded the assignment. She had almost thought about convincing MacMillan to switch her for the Ravenclaw halls, but had decided against it. It was not in her nature to talk her way out of a job assigned specifically to her so she had simply accepted the assignment with nothing but overwhelming dread.
Funny how things could change in a few months.
Hermione yawned again, ready to return to the softness of her bed for a good night’s rest. The yawn became a quiet yelp of surprise as a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her into one of the darkened offshoots of the hallway.
She knew who it was before they secured her against the wall, their warm lips on hers. Hermione felt Draco’s hand entangle itself in her hair, pulling her head to the side.
“Like clockwork,” he growled against her throat, his breath warm against her skin.
She closed her eyes, a shiver making its way through her body as the tip of his tongue made its way up her neck. She fought hard to keep in the moan that so badly wanted to pass by her lips. The insanity of this situation hit her again as she placed her hands firmly against his chest, her fingers clenching as he found that spot right below her earlobe that he knew drove her out of her mind. She felt his lips curve into a knowing smirk, and she finally found her voice.
“No,” she managed from somewhere deep in her throat, although even she had to admit that that no had sounded like anything but that.
Draco laughed, tilting his head to look up her. “No?”
His robe still bunched in her hands, she held his stare. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He gave another chuckle, bracing himself against the wall and effectively caging Hermione’s head between his arms. “Granger, I believe we have this same discussion every few weeks. And if my memory serves me right?” He grinned deviously. “It always ends the same.”
Hermione kept her eyes locked on his, determined. She finally dropped her hands from his chest, placing her palms flat against the hard wall. “Not tonight.”
“And what, pray tell, makes tonight any different?”
“Because I say it is.”
He simply smirked her, dropping a hand from the wall and trailing his fingers down her neck. Between her breasts and down her stomach until he found the separation between her shirt and skirt. The smirk only intensified as he slipped his hand under her shirt, making Hermione close her eyes as his fingers left tingling trails as they moved up her side.
“I say it’s not,” he said, leaning into her.
Hermione opened her eyes, meeting his hypnotic gray ones. “You don’t have control here.”
He raised an amused eyebrow. “And you do?”
“More than you.”
“I’m not keeping you here against your will, you know,” he said with a sneer.
“Your body language at the moment contradicts that.”
He leaned close into her again, his hair falling across the side of his face, and it took every bone in Hermione’s body not to reach up and tuck the loose strands back behind his ear.
“You want to end it?” he said in a husky whisper. “Be my guest, Granger.”
Hermione closed her eyes. She hated this. She hated that he had this weird, indescribable power over her. She hated that her body responded to him this way, pulse racing, body aching. She hated that she was here with him when she should have been elsewhere with the boy she actually loved.
“Lost in thought, Granger?”
She could hear the amusement on his voice. He knew, just as she, that he had the upper hand in this situation. “I’m thinking about how you’re not Ron,” she said, finally opening her eyes.
“And I think we should both be grateful for that.”
She glared at him. “You’d be *lucky* to be like him,” she snapped. “At least he’s not some heartless, self-involved prat.”
If Hermione had hoped her words would chink at Draco’s armor, she would have been disappointed. He simply studied her with the same amused expression.
“So why aren’t you with your dear Ronald right now?”
Hermione hesitated. Why *wasn’t* she with Ron right now? She could have finished her patrol, returned to the towers, and spent the rest of the night with him. And yet here she was, letting herself be touched and kissed by Draco Malfoy.
He smirked at her silence. “Maybe cause he doesn’t know what makes you tick.”
He leaned into her again, his lips finding that spot on her neck. She moaned against the sensation, cursing herself silently as her hands seemingly worked on a will of their own, tangling themselves in his pale blond hair.
His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke again. “Maybe because he can’t make you wet like I do.”
Hermione’s hands tightened in his hair as she pulled him from her neck. “Must you be so crude?” she breathed.
His lips found hers again, and he pressed himself against her, pinning her solid between the wall and his lean frame. She grunted softly against his lips as his hands slid up her skirt, his fingers finding the edge of her panties. He pulled away from her as he knelt in front of her, helping her pull them off.
“If we get caught….” she began as he returned level with her.
“We won’t,” he countered before taking a handful of her hair in his hands and bringing her lips aggressively to his, devouring her.
Hermione’s hands found the button and zipper on his slacks, undoing them with ease. Her fingers brushed against his hardness as she pushed the pants away, eliciting a guttural growl from Draco. Her lips and tongue never leaving his, she slid her fingers into the opening of his boxers and wrapped her fingers around him.
He pulled away from her, bringing an arm under her rear and lifting her off the ground. Her back braced against the hard concrete wall, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looped around his neck. She slowly lowered herself onto him as he cupped her ass in his hands.
“This is wrong,” she managed between breaths.
“You keep telling yourself that, Granger.” He smirked up at her before thrusting into her, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip to keep from making noise, screaming his name.
She leaned forward as she slowly rode him, taking his mouth to hers, anything to quiet herself. He smirked against her lips, and she resisted the urge to bite him and get that stupid sneer off his face. But she didn’t. Instead, she squeezed her legs tighter around him, bringing him in closer, deeper. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, biting down. Bruising her. Marking her.
His whispered name slipped by her lips, her body trembling with the coming wave. Her muscles clenched around him, and he hissed against her neck. He came with one last thrust, her body milking him dry. He pinned her fully against the wall with his weight, kissing her and silencing the sounds she couldn’t hold in any longer.
He pulled his lips away from hers, giving her enough room to breathe. “You can’t do this, huh?” he smirked.
Hermione closed her eyes, silent, as he buried his face against her neck.
She really hated this. She hated the way he smelled when he was this close to her, the intoxicating aroma of faint aftershave mixed with sweat. She hated the way that he tasted in her mouth, leaving her craving more. She hated the way his body seemed to mold perfectly to hers.
She hated this.
She hated that at some point when she wasn’t looking, she’d let these detached, emotionless encounters become more than that in her head.
“I can’t do this,” she said mostly to herself, her eyes still closed.
She finally opened her eyes as he slipped out of her. Pinned against the wall for balance, she unwrapped her legs from around him and slid down until her feet were firmly back on the floor. He studied her with those piercing eyes as he redid his pants.
“You sure about that?” he asked, amused.
She should have been sure. This should have been the most definite choice she had ever made in her life. This should have been a no-brainer for someone as logical and straightforward as her.
But she didn’t have the answer to that question so she said the only thing she could think of.
“Good night, Malfoy.”
He retrieved her discarded panties from the floor, twirling them around his finger. “You want these?”
She only glared at him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he smirked, placing them in his pocket. “Night, Granger.”
Hermione threw him another evil glare before starting away on still-shaky legs. She could feel his gaze following her, and as she turned the corner out of the corridor, she tried to convince herself that that had been it.
The insanity would end tonight.
Because she couldn’t do this anymore.