Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/273886.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Hermione_Granger
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Hermione_Granger
  Additional Tags:
      Draco_Malfoy_-_character, Hermione_Granger_-_character, Loss_of
      Virginity, Hogwarts_Sixth_Year, Hogwarts_Era, Underage_Sex, Hurt/Comfort,
      Community:_deflower_draco
  Collections:
      Deflower_Draco_Fest_2011
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-07 Words: 7635
****** One Pleasant Memory ******
by Musyc
Summary
     The memory of one stolen, forbidden night is all that they share, and
     Hermione remembers it all as she waits to be identified.
"Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"
Hermione shivers as Draco looks at them, pressed together and cowering in the
drawing room of Malfoy Manor. She can only see him from the corner of her eye,
but he's thin, his pointed face almost gaunt. His eyes are as full of pain and
shadows as the night she saw him in the infirmary.
The Snatchers force them to spin around and the light falls across Hermione's
face. Draco meets her eyes. Hermione swallows, staring at him. Please, she
thinks, trying to communicate to him with just a look. Please, no. You owe me.
One pleasant memory.
===============================================================================
Hermione hurried through the corridors, wincing each time her shoes scuffed on
the floor. If Filch or one of the professors caught her out after curfew, she'd
never be able to explain this to them. Really, she thought as she peered around
a corner, she couldn't explain this to herself. This was a fool's mission, and
she shouldn't be bothering, and it was ridiculous for her to be doing this at
all, and....
And she stood inside the doors of the infirmary, letting her eyes adjust to the
dim light. A single candle was lit in a sconce just above a narrow bed, the
only one occupied. The flickering light danced off pale blond hair and a sharp
profile. Hermione watched in silence for a minute, trying to talk herself out
of this. It was foolish. She couldn't understand what urge had drawn her there.
She wasn't Pansy Parkinson, to fawn and wail over his injuries. She didn't have
any connection to him. She shouldn't care at all. It was only that Harry had
been so foolish, and then he'd only cared about his stupid book, and not what
he'd done. Not that he'd sliced Draco open.
Not that he'd attacked Draco with a violent, Dark spell.
Draco could have been killed.
Professor Snape had saved his life, but still--
But still....
But he looked so still.
He barely even seemed to be breathing.
She was across the infirmary before she even realized she'd moved, and she
found herself at the foot of his bed. She argued with herself yet again about
why she was there, why she cared even a little, and she started to turn away.
Draco made a quiet sound. If the infirmary hadn't been so silent, if Draco
hadn't been the sole occupant of the room, she doubted she would have heard
him, but the only other noise she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her
head. She froze, staring at him, close enough now to see the white fringe of
his lashes. One cheek had a thick bandage plastered across it, covering his
face from cheekbone to jaw.
Hermione held her breath, willing him to make that sound again, to reassure her
that he was alive. She stared at him, her hands clasped together. His lips
moved and that small noise escaped him again. It was almost a whimper, a quiet
sound of pain, and her eyes snapped to the bottles on the table beside his bed,
automatically looking for a pain potion. The spidery script on their labels was
difficult to read in the flickering candlelight.
She crept forward, wanting a closer look at the bottles. Draco took a breath
that made his entire body shudder. His translucent eyelids fluttered, but that
was his only movement. Hermione stilled, looking down at him, and her chest
ached as she saw a tear sliding from under his lashes to disappear into his
hair. He wasn't an arrogant prat now, wasn't loathsome and nasty and hurtful.
Now, he was just hurt. He looked smaller in the spartan hospital bed, looked
vulnerable and fragile.
Two narrow lines formed between his brows as he made that quiet noise one more
time, and before she could stop herself, she smoothed one finger over them.
Draco shuddered, gasping, and Hermione snatched her hand back. She covered her
mouth as Draco's eyes opened. For a moment, they were unfocused and clouded,
then they shifted. He saw her.
Hermione took a step back, her spine stiffening, as she waited for that
familiar sneer to curl his lips, for the disgust to fill his eyes, for the
insults to leave his mouth. Instead, he closed his eyes again and licked his
lips. "Pain potion," he said, his voice soft and quavering. "Is there one
there?"
A little startled by his words, it took Hermione a second to respond, then she
jumped and rushed to scrabble through the bottles on the small table. She found
a pain potion and held it out to him. "Here," she said, her throat tight. "Here
you go. This should do."
He opened his eyes again and looked at her sideways, not moving to take the
bottle or even turn his head. "Going to need a little help," he said. He stared
up at the ceiling and those two lines of pain formed between his brows again.
"I can't sit up."
Hermione cocked her head and stared at him. Beneath the collar of his pyjama
shirt was something paler than his skin. She moved the collar aside and saw a
white bandage running across his chest and over one shoulder. From the way it
was wrapped, Hermione decided it must be covering most of his torso. Her lips
pressed together as a flare of anger went through her. Harry's spell, the spell
from that stupid book, had done this to Draco.
She set the bottle down and drew her wand. Pointing it at the small crank on
the frame of the bed, she gave a twist of her wrist. The mattress beneath Draco
started to lift, elevating his head and upper body. Her irritation with Harry
lent her spell too much strength, and the bed shuddered as the mattress rose.
Draco cried out in pain, his face twisted, and he clutched at the thin sheet
covering him. Hermione squeaked and reversed the spell, and Draco gave another
wrenching cry as the mattress slammed back to the bed.
"Oh god, oh god, I'm sorry," Hermione babbled, dropping her wand on the table
and jumping forward to touch Draco's cheek in apology. Her fingers came away
wet and she nearly sobbed herself at realizing how much additional pain she'd
just put him though. He gasped for breath, one hand pressed to his chest, his
eyes squeezed tightly closed. Hermione smoothed his fringe back from his
forehead. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
She crouched beside the bed and turned the little crank by hand, watching with
care to be sure the mattress lifted slowly and that Draco could handle the
movement. When he was elevated enough that she thought he could drink from the
potion bottle without choking, she stood and held the bottle out to him again.
"H-here, Draco."
He opened his eyes again, and Hermione bit her lip at the shimmer of tears they
held. He looked up at her, his jaw working, then he exhaled, slow and
shuddering. "Hold it for me," he said, the words ground out between his teeth.
He tapped one finger on his chest. "Bandages. Moving my arms hurts. Fuck,
moving my eyelids hurts right now."
Hermione shook her head. "I should ... I should get Madam Pomfrey."
"No." Draco spat the word, his eyes narrowing. "No. She kept trying to shove
Dreamless Sleep down my throat before Snape made her leave me alone. Don't wake
her up. I don't want her trying again. Just ... just hold it for me so I can
drink it." He pressed his lips together until they went white, then he looked
up at her with frustration clear in his eyes. "Please."
It was reluctant and grumbled, but it was the simple fact that he'd said it at
all that made Hermione move. Draco Malfoy saying 'please' to anyone was
astonishing enough; Draco Malfoy saying 'please' to her was practically a
miracle. Hermione made a couple of attempts to lean over him with the bottle,
then finally managed to find a comfortable position sitting on the bed beside
him. His arm was tense against her hip and he bit back a groan when he tried to
lift his head.
Muttering at him to hold still, Hermione gently slipped her hand beneath his
head. His hair was soft and fine between her fingers and for a moment she
wondered what sort of shampoo he used. The thought made her smile as she held
the potion bottle to his mouth. Draco took several long swallows before she
pulled the bottle away. "What's so funny?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
Hermione dabbed a drop of the potion off his chin with a corner of the sheet.
"Your hair," she said, brushing his fringe back again. "I was wondering how you
get it so soft. I need to start buying that shampoo."
Draco rolled his eyes, but one corner of his mouth turned up. "Out of luck,
then. Can't buy that. Malfoy trademark."
"Unfair," she said, fussing with the pillow under his head. "Boys always have
all the luck like that. They get softer hair, longer eyelashes, prettier eyes."
He snorted. "Granger, word of advice. Most blokes don't really care to be
described as pretty. Try good-looking or handsome, if you're going to say
anything at all."
Hermione laughed quietly. "But that's not the right word. You don't have
handsome eyes. You have pretty eyes." She held her breath as she realized what
she'd said. It was true, and she'd thought it for a long time, but it wasn't
something she should ever have told him.
Draco looked at her like he wanted to respond, but glanced away without
speaking. He took a deep breath and tossed the sheet off his body, then put his
hands on the bed as if he wanted to push himself up. Hermione put her hands on
his shoulders, holding him down. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Need to get up," he said. He glared at her and pushed at her wrists. "Leave
off. Potion's working. I need to get up."
"You're not going anywhere," she told him firmly. "Whatever it is you need, I
can get it for you. I'm right here, might as well help you a little longer."
Draco's cheeks turned pink and he shook his head. "You can't help with this.
Just let go of me. Let me up."
"Draco, tell me what you need." Hermione pushed him more forcefully against the
bed, then snatched her hands back when he yelped and clawed her fingers away
from his bandaged shoulder. Chewing on her lip, she apologized quietly, but
repeated her demand.
Draco stayed silent for a long minute, his face turning pinker. His cheeks and
the bridge of his nose were a brilliant red when he finally spoke. "I have to
piss, Granger. You're not helping me with that."
"Oh," she said, heat rising in her own cheeks. "Oh. Oh, I see. That, um. Right.
Yes." She stepped away from the bed. She twisted her hands together, fighting
with herself not to help him sit up despite the difficulty of it that was
obvious in his every movement. His brows were knotted and he was panting for
breath by the time he managed to sit on the edge of the bed, and he gripped the
mattress, his knuckles white.
Hermione took a step closer to him and Draco snapped his head up. "Don't," he
said in warning tones. He took a hard breath and shoved to his feet in one
motion. His body tensed, he made a strange and strangled sound, and his knees
buckled. Hermione dove forward, catching him before he could hit the floor.
"Shut up," she told him when he protested. "Don't be an idiot. You're hurt. At
least let me help you to the loo." Ignoring his grumbles, she slung his arm
around her shoulders, slid her arm around his waist, and commanded him to lean
on her. Two steps was all it took before Draco fell silent, and Hermione looked
up at his face in surprise. She'd expected much more whinging, but Draco's jaw
was locked tight and the muscles around his eyes were stiff with tension. He
was clearly putting all his effort into walking without complaint.
She put her own effort into not scolding him for taking too much on himself. No
matter how good that potion had been, he shouldn't have tried to get out of
bed. Boys. She guided him across the infirmary and propped him against the wall
outside the bathroom. "Stay," she commanded before she ducked inside to set up
the room for him. She did everything she could to make it easy for someone who
shouldn't be moving much, then returned to help him in.
"I can walk," he insisted, despite the evidence she had to the contrary. He
shoved her hands away and clung to the doorframe. "For god's sake, Granger, I
can do this. Leave off!" He moved into the loo, gingerly, then stopped before
shutting the door. He looked at her, his lip caught in his teeth, and sighed.
With a grumble, he raised his chin. "Wait here? In-in case I fall over?"
Hermione nodded, keeping her expression as still as possible. He'd asked for
help, even if not in those words, and she wasn't going to say a word about the
pathetic look in his eyes. Nothing to make him reticent to ask again. He still
had to get back into the bed.
After a minute, she realized no sound was coming from behind the door. She
turned the handle to open the door an inch as she knocked on it with one
knuckle. "Draco?"
"I'm fine," he shouted. The aggravation came through clearly, as did the hollow
clunk of the toilet lid hitting the tank, and Hermione stifled a giggle as she
leaned against the wall by the door, leaving it open that small amount. She
listened until everything fell silent again. She waited.
And waited.
The silence was unnerving, and she closed her eyes as she pushed at the door.
If he'd passed out.... "Dra--" she started.
"Son of a bitch," she heard, and she snapped her eyes open. Draco was leaning
on the sink, his shirt dangling from one shoulder, his hand pressed to his
chest and his head hanging. Hermione pushed the door opened the rest of the way
and Draco turned his head at the movement. He growled, then shook his shirt
onto the floor. "Tried to get it back on and it didn't work."
"Why on earth did you take it off in the first place?" she scolded, picking the
shirt up and draping it over her arm. She stood beside him and, before she
could stop herself, her gaze fell to his left arm. Harry's suspicions echoed
through her head, but Draco's arm was clear, his skin unblemished and pale.
"See anything?" he said softly.
Hermione snapped her head up, guilt heavy in her throat, to meet his eyes.
"Draco, I--"
He held up his hand to stop her. He stared at her for a moment, then closed his
eyes and shook his head. "Don't bother. I know what you're looking for. I'd
have to be a useless fucking fool to walk around this school with something
like that showing where anyone could get an eyeful." He opened his eyes and
there was a pain in them that made Hermione's heart clench. "I'm not."
He turned away from her, stumbling towards the door. Hermione wanted to ask
what he'd meant by 'I'm not' - he wasn't a fool, he wasn't useless, he wasn't a
Death Eater? - but she'd seen the hurt in his eyes that had nothing to do with
his injuries. She couldn't bring herself to dig into that pain.
She caught up with Draco just outside the bathroom door and caught his arm. She
put it over her shoulders and helped him back to the bed. Neither of them
spoke, and Hermione figured the quiet truce they'd formed for a few minutes was
over. She settled Draco on the edge of his hospital bed and helped him get his
shirt on, though she didn't feel quite brave enough to button it up. She left
it hanging open since the white bandage covered most of his exposed chest.
"Right, then," she said quietly, turning away. "You're all right. You've more
potion there. I'll just ... go."
"Hermione."
She froze, her eyes wide. Draco had said her name. Slowly, she turned to look
over her shoulder at him. He was staring at the floor between his bare feet and
he took a couple of breaths that shook his shoulders. For a minute, she was
willing to believe that she'd imagined it, that he hadn't said her name at all,
then he looked up. He met her eyes. "Hermione, I'm sorry."
Her jaw dropped. She stared at him, trying to speak, trying to respond, but all
she managed was a high-pitched squeak. Draco looked at the floor again, one
shoulder rising in a shrug. "I've been a total prick to you for years," he said
quietly. "And when I was lying on that floor, thinking I was about to die,
I...." He sighed and rubbed his cheek on his shoulder. He took another drink of
the pain potion and pulled the bandage off as he reached for a different
bottle. "I regretted a few things. So, er. So I'm sorry."
Hermione watched in silence as he poured a dark potion onto a thin flannel and
dabbed it against his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. Draco flicked a glance
at her, then shrugged again and patted his cheek with the flannel. Hermione
wrinkled her nose as he missed the tip of the long, pale cut across his face.
His apology had also sounded like a dismissal, but she couldn't stand watching
him fumble. Especially not if, as she suspected, that cut was part of the
damage Harry's spell had done to him.
She came closer and took the flannel from his hand as she sat beside him. "Oh,
hush," she said when he made a protesting noise. She poured more of the potion
onto the flannel, gripped his chin, and tilted his face to the light of the
candle over his bed. "What is this?" she asked quietly, taking her time as she
applied the potion to his cheek.
"Dittany," he said after a moment. "Supposed to keep it from scarring. Snape
wasn't entirely sure it would work, because the spell is ... um. Because of the
kind of spell Potter used. But it couldn't hurt to try."
Hermione hummed in acknowledgement, remembering dittany from her reading. It
needed to be applied on a regular schedule, but Draco was right. It should
prevent scarring if he used it properly. She wet the flannel again and daubed
the cut on his cheek. Draco kept his head tilted to the light for her without
protest, eyes closed.
"You weren't always," Hermione told him.
Draco's brows knotted. "Weren't always what?"
"You weren't always a total.... Well. You weren't always cruel. I won't go so
far as to say you were ever nice to me, but you weren't always cruel."
He opened one eye and looked at her from under his lashes. Hermione shrugged
one shoulder, much as he'd done, and dabbed at his cheek again. "That time I
slapped you. You didn't do anything. Didn't retaliate. You just walked away. I
wouldn't have been surprised if you'd tried to hex me for it, but nothing. That
was one time when you weren't cruel. And then...." She exhaled slowly, cupping
his face and leaning closer to get a good look at the edge of the cut as it ran
along his jaw. "At the World Cup. You ... you warned me. Warned me to get away
from your father and his friends. That was the opposite of cruel, I'd say."
Hermione worked the potion into the bottom point of the long, shallow cut and
crumpled the flannel in her fist. "Will you tell me why?" she asked in a
whisper. "I've always wondered."
Draco tensed beside her but he didn't pull away. He closed his eyes and stayed
silent for several heartbeats. "I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know
why. Maybe because you have pretty eyes, too."
Hermione stared at his profile, speechless for a moment. "Thank you," she said,
her voice barely audible even to herself. On impulse, she leaned closer and
kissed his cheek just above the line of the cut. Draco startled, snapping his
head around to face her. The tips of their noses brushed and he looked directly
into her eyes. His breath hit her mouth, each exhale bouncing off her lips.
Hermione blinked, heat rising in her cheeks at the unexpected proximity, and
she tipped her head back to move away.
Draco, quick as ever, snapped one hand around the nape of her neck. Something
dark and strange flashed through his eyes. He closed the small distance between
them and brushed her lips in a kiss so light she could almost claim to have
imagined it. Hermione sucked in a breath and Draco's eyes widened. They
flickered, the odd gleam in them fading, and she felt his fingers loosen on her
nape. He was going to pull away, she knew.
She knew that wasn't what she wanted.
Hermione placed her hand against his undamaged cheek, slid her fingers up to
run through his hair over his temple. She pushed his fringe back and settled
her palm just beneath his hairline on his neck. "Draco," she murmured.
He tipped his head back, pushing against her fingers, but that was as far as he
moved. He looked at her, his eyes wide and his mouth half-open. Hermione
brushed the side of his neck and his pulse beat fast beneath her thumb. She
tipped her head and kissed his bottom lip, kissed the corner of his mouth.
Draco made a soft noise. His hand moved off the back of her neck to tangle in
her hair. He made that quiet sound again, then he kissed her.
He gave her a solid, firm kiss, gave her a kiss that was fierce and demanding.
His mouth pressed against hers with a force that sent a sting of pain through
her - delicious pain and a low, burning heat. She felt his lips part and the
point of his tongue draw across the seam of her mouth. She opened for him, let
him in, and Draco slid his tongue across hers.
His teeth scraped her lip, pulling it between his. He sucked gently on her lip,
brushed his tongue across that same spot, now throbbing from his teeth and
tongue. Hermione whimpered, her fingers twitching on Draco's nape, and he
jerked back. Hermione's hand fell as he broke contact with her. Her palm felt
cold without his skin against it.
He stared at her, his breath fast, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark. He
swallowed and she watched, fascinated, as his throat moved. "I'm--" he
whispered, turning his head away. "I shouldn't have--"
Hermione didn't let herself think. If she let her brain take over, she knew
she'd be off the bed and out of the infirmary before either of them could
really comprehend what they'd just done. There was a heat searing her veins, a
knot forming just beneath her navel, and she didn't want to lose that. She
ached, the sort of deep and desperate ache of a hunger for something. Something
new, something exciting.
Something forbidden.
She leaned in and kissed the arch of his cheekbone, just above the pink line of
the cut. Draco sat tense beside her, but he didn't move. He didn't pull away
from her as her mouth traveled down his jaw, tiny pecks of kisses pressed to
each inch she touched. She nudged his chin up and kissed down the column of his
throat, finding the hollow where his heartbeat was going mad. She licked the
shallow dip there, sucked his skin up between her lips and rubbed it with her
teeth.
Draco's breathing came faster. His thigh felt like rock against hers. She could
feel his hand on the bed behind them, close to her hip, could feel the thin
sheet moving as his fingers flexed. She tipped her head and kissed the
underside of his jaw. He swallowed again and his throat moved under her lips.
That deep ache tightened in her abdomen, twisting around itself in a snarl.
She tugged Draco's collar aside and kissed the angle of his shoulder where it
met his neck. The white bandage brushed her chin and Hermione kissed that too,
pressing through it to find the hard, round knob of his clavicle. She settled
one hand on Draco's leg for balance as she twisted to kiss over the stretch of
his shoulder to his throat again.
Draco shivered. His hand fell on hers, gripping her fingers tight, close to the
point of pain. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, her lips just touching
his throat. She could hear his rapid breath, his wild heartbeat. This felt like
that moment, that one bright moment where a hunger would be satisfied or
denied. As soon as she'd kissed his throat, she'd made her decision. Now it was
his turn. She waited, her lips pressed together and her eyes closed.
Draco clutched at her hand. He squeezed her fingers and gave a sharp exhale. He
moved and Hermione went with him. They stretched out on the bed together,
Hermione laying against his uninjured side. Draco scrabbled through the bottles
on the table beside his bed, grabbed one, and downed the last of the pain
potion. The candlelight reflected in his eyes, turning the cold silver to a
warm, deep pewter. He touched her face and his fingers shook against her cheek.
Hermione kissed the pad of his thumb as it passed over her lips. She met
Draco's eyes and nodded. He gave a soft gasp and hauled her to him. Hermione
kissed him or he kissed her - she couldn't tell who was in control and she
didn't think it mattered. Draco's hands roamed over her back and side, leaving
trails of heat in their paths. Hermione caressed his throat and shoulder, her
hand ghosting over his chest. She was afraid to lean too much on him, to put a
lot of pressure on his bandaged torso, and her hand drifted down to rest on the
hollow of his hip.
Draco kissed beneath her jaw, nuzzling past her hair to fasten on her throat.
He found a spot that made her tremble, and she could feel his lips curling in a
smile against her skin. He sucked hard, pulling her skin into his mouth, hard
enough that she knew she'd need a Concealing charm to cover the mark he was
going to leave behind. His teeth touched her neck, scraped across the
sensitized flesh, and his hand slid up from the dip of her waist to cradle her
breast.
Hermione jerked in surprise as Draco's long fingers covered her breast, and her
hand slipped off his hip, brushing across his groin. Draco hissed. "Fuck," he
said in a loud voice, the word seeming to echo in the silence of the infirmary.
Hermione and Draco both froze, both looked to the door at the far end of the
room.
It didn't open. Madame Pomfrey didn't step out to catch them together, lips
swollen and hair mussed, hands spread across each other's bodies.
Their eyes met and they both gave a sheepish, shy laugh. Draco flushed pink,
glancing away. "Maybe we should, er. Maybe we should stop?"
Hermione found her wand on the small table next to the bed and cast a quick
Muffliato with a raise of her brows. "Maybe you should be a little quieter,
instead." She put her wand down and took his hand. Placing it firmly against
her breast, she smiled at Draco's look of surprise. She slid her fingers down
the unbuttoned placket of his shirt and pushed beneath it to run one nail along
the drawstring waistband of his loose pyjamas.
Draco hissed again and Hermione looked at him, ready to give a warning, but
he'd pressed his lips together and tipped his head back against the bed, still
elevated from earlier. His fingers moved on her shirt and his thumb rubbed
against the stiffened point of her nipple. Hermione stifled a whimper, or tried
to. She made a quiet sound despite her efforts and Draco's mouth curved in a
smile. "Oh, shut up," she said, smiling herself. "I'd do the same to yours if
they weren't covered with that bandage."
"Wouldn't do you much good," he muttered, his shoulders shifting against the
thin mattress. "Mine don't get sensitive."
Hermione danced her fingers up his chest and tapped on the bandage where she
thought his nipples might be. "And you know this for a fact?"
He hummed, sounding contemplative. "Do I tell you that I know from showers or
that I've tested out of curiosity?"
Hermione laughed under her breath and bent to kiss the center of his chest. "I
think that's answer enough." She kissed a path down the bandage. Even through
the layer of wrapping, she could feel Draco's stomach tensing beneath her
mouth. She lifted her head and pushed her hair away from her eyes to see him
with one hand pressed over his mouth. She stifled a laugh at his efforts to
keep quiet, then kissed the point of his hip. Her chin brushed his groin and
she felt his cock jump against her jaw. Deliberately, she mouthed the material
over it.
Draco jerked, his free hand falling on the back of her head. Hermione drummed
her fingers on his thigh and peppered a line of kisses along the fabric-covered
length. She heard a muffled swearing and looked up. He was staring at her, his
mouth open and his tongue touching his bottom lip. "Don't tease," he said, his
voice strained. "If you're going to do it, do it." Hermione raised her brows
and tipped her head. Draco swore again. "C'mon, Hermione. Please?"
Hermione turned her head and kissed the inside of his wrist. "Since you asked
nicely," she said. She untied the drawstring waistband and tugged his pyjama
bottoms a little lower. Humming under her breath, she reached in and lifted his
cock free. She thought about teasing him further, but his fingers tightened in
her hair and he made a desperate whimpering sound. The sound cut straight into
her, burrowing low in her abdomen and making her knickers feel wet. She pressed
her thighs together and shifted her hips as a throb went through her.
She fastened her mouth around the head of Draco's cock, flicking her tongue
around the ridge. Draco gave a strangled groan and pressed on the back of her
head. Hermione pulled off him and licked her lips. "Push on me like that and
this stops," she said in a soft warning. "My choice, Malfoy."
Immediately the pressure on her scalp released and he moved his fingers to her
shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered. "More. Please."
Hermione nodded and lowered her head to him again. She swiped the flat of her
tongue over the head of his cock, tapped the point of it into the narrow slit
that was already letting out small beads of sticky, salty fluid. She'd never
thought about the sort of sounds Draco Malfoy might make in bed, but she
supposed she'd expected he'd be quiet, the kind of man who'd hold in and leave
his partner wondering if she was doing anything right at all.
She'd been wrong. He squeezed her shoulder hard when she fluttered her tongue
along the thick vein on the underside of his cock, pushed at her with a hiss
when she used just a little too much of her teeth. He swore vociferously when
she opened her mouth and took him in, lowering until she could feel him
prodding the soft palette and pushing against her throat. Hermione paused,
inhaled deeply through her nose, and dropped her jaw as far as she could to let
Draco's cock slide completely into her.
He grabbed her shoulder with one hand and the bed sheet with the other. "Fuck,"
he said, his voice choked. "Hermi--" Her name cut off as he groaned. His cock
pulsed between her lips and against her tongue, and Hermione pulled up quickly.
She kept her mouth fastened around him as he came, filling her mouth despite
her hurried swallows. When he collapsed against the bed, panting, his hands
loose at his sides, she lifted her head and tipped it back to let the salty
warmth slide down her throat. Her knickers were soaked, her body responding to
Draco's arousal and orgasm.
No, not responding, she decided as she shimmied up the bed to lay her head on
the pillow beside his. Demanding. Hermione kept her hand on Draco's cock,
pumping slowly. She could already feel the small twitches as his excitement
started to rebuild. "Sorry," he mumbled once he'd caught his breath. He turned
his head to look at her, his eyes shimmering in the candlelight. "Not usually
that fast. Tried to warn you."
"It's all right," she said with a small grin. "I didn't mind. Would have moved
if I didn't want to swallow."
His lips twitched in a smile and he closed his eyes. "I'd offer to return the
favor, but--" He tapped the bandages on his chest. "Don't think I could handle
laying on my front despite that rather effective potion."
Hermione laughed as she tickled her nails through the curls surrounding the
base of Draco's cock. "Well, that wouldn't actually be necessary. There's loads
of ways to do that, including a couple that would keep you on your back." She
propped her head up on her hand and smiled at him. "But I had something else in
mind."
Draco glanced down his torso at her fingers moving on his shaft, then raised a
brow. "I, er. Don't want to make an assumption here, but I know what I hope
you're thinking."
She slipped her fingers beneath his waistband and gently rolled his bollocks in
the palm of her hand. Draco's lids fluttered and he gave a soft moan. Hermione
hummed happily. "If you're hoping for sex, you've made the right assumption,"
she said. Her body clenched at the look of want that flared across his eyes and
she released his cock to sit up on the edge of the bed. She toed off her shoes
and wriggled out of her jeans and knickers.
When she knelt on the bed beside him, Draco slid his hand up her thighs.
Hermione widened her legs and sank her teeth into her bottom lip to hold back
the moan when he cupped her. He fumbled for a second, his hand shaking against
her, then he pushed the tip of one finger between her folds and into her cunt.
Hermione clutched his leg, her nails scraping at the thin fabric of his
pyjamas. Draco's face held a mix of excitement and wariness, as if he thought
she might change her mind.
Not on her life. Her entire body was trembling and hot, like she'd been in the
sun for too many hours. Her skin tingled, and Draco's finger thrusting inside
her wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough. She tugged his pyjamas down his thighs
and straddled him. His cock rubbed against her and they both let out tight
groans of need. Draco closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his pulse beating
fast in his throat. "Never done this before," he whispered.
Hermione reached between their bodies and circled her fingers around his cock.
"Had sex with a Gryffindor? Or with a Muggleborn?"
"Had sex," Draco said. "Full stop."
Hermione froze with the head of his cock just touching the narrow entrance to
her body. "Oh my god," she said, free hand over her lips. "You're a virgin?
That's a surprise."
He made a face, sighing. "Yes." He opened one eye and peered at her, then gave
a quiet laugh. "So be gentle."
Snickering, Hermione leaned down and kissed him. "I promise." She sat up and
carefully fit his cock to her opening. She watched his face as she slowly sank
down on him. Telling her this was his first time seemed to have loosened
something in him, because his expression was open and awed, his eyes locked on
hers. His fingers clutched at her thighs, gripping and releasing in a quick,
stuttering rhythm. Hermione lowered until she could feel the soft pouch of his
bollocks under her arse, the tight blond hairs around his cock meshing with her
own brown curls.
Draco swallowed and licked his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"That's the plan," Hermione said quietly. Experimenting, she squeezed around
him, and Draco groaned. He lifted under her, pushing deeper into her cunt, but
the effort made his face twist with pain. Hermione pushed down on him, forcing
his hips to the bed. She leaned over him and kissed his chin. "Hold still," she
told him. "Don't use up that potion too fast."
"Mmm," he mumbled. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. "Oh, shit.
Potion. Hermione, we didn't--"
"I'm covered," she said, dragging the point of her tongue along his bottom lip.
"But thank you for thinking of that, even if it's a bit late. For future
reference, ask the girl in advance of getting up in her. She'll appreciate you
being considerate."
He made a sound that she decided was agreement. Smiling, she leaned on her
hands and bunched her thighs to lift off him. Before he could slip out of her,
she ground down and squeezed her cunt tight. Draco clung to her hips, sweat
beading on his forehead and across his collar bones, glistening in the hollow
of his throat.
Hermione watched his face, his darkened eyes and reddened skin, fascinated by
the changes that went through his expression as she rode him. Pleasure and
need, certainly, but there was also surprise. A bit of confusion, maybe.
"Something wrong?" she asked, slowing the rock of her hips as she sat up.
He shook his head. "N-no. Just ... different. Seriously different. I-I ...
didn't expect it to feel like this."
Hermione purred deep in her throat. "It only gets better, Draco." She pushed
her hand between them, touching the base of his cock as it disappeared into
her. She lifted up enough to circle his shaft, then rubbed the pad of one
finger over her clit. She shook her head and stopped him when he started to
move his hand to help. "Quicker to do it myself and we can't possibly have that
much time left. Just watch," she said in a soft voice as she closed her eyes.
"Just feel."
She rubbed fast and hard, finger moving around her clit in tiny circles that
quickly had her breathing in little breathy pants, small whimpers escaping her
each time she exhaled. Draco's hands smoothed over her thighs, caressing her,
and she opened her eyes to look at his face. "That's it," he whispered, looking
at her with a dark, needy heat. "That's it, Hermione. I want to see. I want to
watch. C'mon. C'mon, let me see you. Come for me."
That soft command twisted something inside her. The tension building in her
body tightened further and further until it broke, sending her over the edge
with a shriek she barely muffled with her hand. Her blood pounded in her ears
and through a haze that darkened her vision, she saw Draco's mouth moving. His
cock pulsed inside her, almost trembling against the gripping walls of her
cunt, and he shuddered. He clamped his hands on her legs and threw his head
back, his lips ground together to hold back his own orgasmic cry, the line of
his throat looking solid as a column of stone.
When Hermione's shaking eased, she lifted off him and rolled to stretch out at
his side, her legs shaking too much to let her stand. "Not bad for a first-
timer," she mumbled, feeling too exhausted to reach for her wand and clean up
their mess.
Draco draped his arm over her, his fingers moving idly against her hip. He met
her eyes, a serious look adding a new level to the dark pewter of his gaze. "I
don't know whether to thank you or curse you. That was amazing. I'm never going
to forget this."
Hermione exhaled slowly, the burning desperation of before now fading into a
restless uncertainty. "You probably should," she said, her voice a hoarse
whisper from the efforts of keeping back her moans. Now that they had finished,
the feeling of roiling hunger was gone. She couldn't quite tell what was
replacing it. She wanted to smooth Draco's sweat-dampened hair back from his
forehead, to kiss him and watch him drift off to sleep. She firmly ordered
herself not to be silly. She'd felt a frantic impulse, she'd let the lure of
something forbidden draw her, and she'd given in. That was all this had been,
and that was all they could have.
She forced herself to sit up and find her clothes and wand. "We both probably
should," she said, as she cleaned herself up and dried her knickers before
pulling them on. She wriggled her jeans up her legs and stepped into her shoes
as she stood. "It's not as though we could ever have anything except this. I'm
really not the kind of person who's up for furtive shags, and there's no way in
hell you'd ever openly be interested in a girl like me. So this ... this is a
once-only deal. And we should forget it happened."
She looked over her shoulder at him. Draco had his brows knotted and he
wouldn't look at her. Emotions warred on his face, but she couldn't tell what
he was thinking. A little soppy part of her wanted him to protest what she'd
said, but the rational, logical part of her mind knew better. Malfoy and a
Muggleborn just wasn't going to happen.
Draco tugged his pyjamas up over his hips and finally looked at her. Hermione's
knees quivered at his expression. The weary sorrow she'd seen in him earlier
was back; that sting of pain was in his gaze again. "You're right," he said in
a heavy voice. "We should forget." He let out a slow breath and rubbed the
bandage over his heart. "But I'm not going to. Thank you, Hermione. This is ...
this is going to be a pleasant memory for me. I'll hang on to it. Might need
something good to think about before too long. Bad times are coming."
Harry's worries and Order rumors screamed across her mind. Despite herself, she
looked at Draco's left arm, hidden beneath the damp sleeve of his shirt.
"Draco, if you're ... if there's some kind of trouble. If you're worried about
anything.... Go to Dumbledore," she told him in a hurried whisper. "He can help
you, I swear he can."
Draco's expression closed up like a door slamming in her face. "No," he said,
the words ground out between his teeth. "He's ... there's no help there." He
turned his head away from her and closed his eyes. "You need to go."
"Draco--"
"I said no," he hissed, his hands gripping the sheets in tight fists. "Leave
off. There's nothing anyone can do. It's already too late."
Hermione's heart broke at the ache in Draco's voice. She leaned over the bed
and gripped his chin, coaxing his head around. She kissed him, and she could
taste the salt of tears on his lips. The question was which of them had started
to cry. The wet chill on her cheeks and the shimmer on his told her the answer
when she lifted her head. "I won't forget either," she whispered, touching his
lips.
She hurried away from the bed before she could demand that Draco talk to her,
before she could press offers of help on him. She reached the door of the
infirmary and stopped when Draco called to her. "Hermione, wait."
She turned back and looked at him, clutching the door like an anchor. The
single candle shone off his hair and shadowed his eyes. "I owe you one," he
said. "Be careful."
"I will," she replied, giving him a shaky smile before she slipped out of the
infirmary to rush back to her dorm.
===============================================================================
Draco looks into her eyes. Hermione holds her breath, waiting for him to speak
her name, her real name, to identify her to his parents and aunt. He swallows
and shakes his head. "I don't know," he says, and he turns away. Hermione
barely hears the argument that comes, watching Draco with his back to them, his
hands on the mantle of the fireplace. When the adults are distracted, he
glances at her and his lips move silently. I'm sorry, he mouths to her. I can't
help you. I'm sorry.
Hermione inclines her head in the barest nod. She understands. He's as trapped
as she is. One pleasant memory, she thinks. Just one, for the bad times to
come. She hopes it has been enough for him, hopes it will continue to be
enough.
As Bellatrix cuts her free of Harry and Ron with madness in her eyes and laugh,
Hermione closes her eyes and focuses on her own memory of that night. She hopes
it will be enough for her, as well.
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