Archive of Our Own ^beta

* 

“There.” 

She’s spread out in front of him, writhing. He’s drunk on her soft pants and breathy sighs as he feasts on her cunt, bare and sweet and dripping for him.

Perhaps he’s dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s imagined tossing her onto his desk, yanking up her skirt, and ripping her knickers cleanly in two.  

“God, I—” Granger tugs on his hair, and Draco groans. His cock throbs as she swivels her hips up into him, dragging his tongue the way she wants it.  

He slams her down on his desk again, holding her thighs open. She lets out a small scream when he resumes the pressure, licking slow circles around her clit.

She’s going to come on his desk, and he’s going to come in his trousers. 

He flicks harder, and looks up to find her cupping her bare tits.  

“—there.” Granger’s voice is raw as he slips a finger inside her. “Yes, like—” 

He adds a second finger and curls, and she breaks off in a strangled moan.

He’s breathless from her sounds, from her taste as he fucks her with his fingers, his tongue swiping broad strokes across her clit. She’s tight and hot and perfect, and he tries to think of anything but the way she’d feel around his— 

“Harder,” she gasps. He obliges. 

He always knew she’d be like this. Even from eighth year, when she’d correct his form without asking. When he first joined the department, and she’d butt in to fix his reports. 

He should have known it would be a row about proper cataloging that finally brought them here: Granger naked underneath him, just as bossy and demanding with his face between her thighs.  

Her whines grow in pitch, and Draco curses, his hips searching for relief. His mouth locks around her clit as she shudders, and she stops thrashing long enough for him to unbutton his trousers. He fists his cock and begins pumping, matching the pace to the slick slide of his fingers in her cunt. 

She’s grinding against him in seconds, her soft sighs seeping into his bloodstream. His lips relent, and he presses his tongue on her, his hand jerking faster over his skin.

He wants to watch her face. He wants to stare at her cunt. He wants her to come on his fingers, then his cock, palming her tits until he paints her insides. 

Vance could walk in and fire him on the spot, and he wouldn’t notice. 

A sharp tug on his scalp. “More.” 

Another tug, and Draco’s hand stutters, the pleasure-pain of it rippling down his spine. He glances up, and finds Granger staring at him, her skin flushed, her eyes glassy. Her tits heaving and nipples tight. 

“Don’t stop, Malfoy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He kisses her thigh and gives her what she wants.

His tongue begins circling again, firm and fast, his fingers pumping into her as her walls begin to flutter. Granger throws her neck back and whines a string of nonsense, and just when he can’t take another moment, her back arches and her muscles clamp down on him in a vice. 

He sucks hard on her clit as she shatters, her insides rippling while he rubs her. He pins her thighs down, sucking and flicking as she keens. Her fingers scrabble at him, but he’s relentless, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her body until her voice gives out and her legs are limp at her sides. 

Draco’s head is dizzy, but his balls are still tight. He stands, and his muscles tense when he starts stroking himself again. 

He stares at Granger’s face, her eyes closed, her mouth open in silent pleasure. The swell of her tits, and the curve of her waist. His fingers are still inside her, and his strokes grow jerky as he imagines her wet heat around his cock. 

It takes three more pumps for him to crest. Draco’s head falls back as his orgasm tears through him, the pleasure escaping in waves. He’s grunting and gasping, his fist moving quickly, and Granger moans as his fingers push deeper into her. 

It feels like an eternity until he’s spent. He catches his breath as his vision clears. He has a moment to enjoy the view of his come on Granger’s cunt before her eyelids flutter open. 

Her gaze drifts to him, and she blinks away the haze.

“Oh my god.”  

He huffs a laugh, and she winces as he withdraws his fingers. His mind is still sluggish, but just when the thought occurs to him to bend and kiss her, she’s squeezing her thighs closed. 

“I— can you fetch my wand?”

Draco blinks at her, and she pulls her bra up. 

“The meeting will be over soon. I should freshen up before Vance calls us.” 

“Right.” He steps back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, just let me…” 

He finds Granger’s wand, and buttons up as he watches her banish the evidence and repair her clothing. Her face is flushed and her eyes downcast, like she’s shy all of a sudden, and his blood pumps with promise. 

He opens his mouth to say something to her, but then she’s straightening her skirt and finally meeting his gaze.  

“I’ll just— see you in a few minutes, then.” 

She manages a small smile, but before he can return it, she’s slipping from his office. 

* 

Draco spends the next twenty minutes running through every possibility of the things he might do to Granger tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. His thoughts have drifted to a vivid reenactment of her orgasm when the memo finally arrives from Vance. 

He leaves at once, his heart pummeling his ribcage as he winds down the long corridor, knocks twice, and pushes open the door. 

Granger isn’t there yet.

“Come in.”

Vance’s voice is deadly calm— never a good sign. He complies. 

“That was some stunt, Malfoy. It took a quarter-hour to get us back on track.” 

“Sorry,” he says, feeling anything but.

Vance gestures at the empty chair in front of her, her face sour. “Sit.” 

He does. Before she lays into him, Vance informs him that Granger took the rest of the day off, citing a headache.

* 

Draco is thankful for Fridays. Blaise might have ditched him for some skirt, and Granger might be busy avoiding him, but at least he can get sloshed without regard for his raging hangover tomorrow. 

He saw her on Level 5 this morning, her long legs moving briskly down the corridor. For a moment, he thought of trying to catch her at the lifts. But then he remembered how quickly she’d fled his office yesterday, and he turned in the opposite direction. 

The pub is busier and his glass taller than usual tonight. As Draco sips his Firewhisky, it occurs to him that Blaise is the only unforgivable person in this situation. Their standing pub date is more of a commitment than anything he has with Granger, after all.  

Had. 

Though they should probably talk things out, at some point, to avoid future awkwardness. 

He pulls himself from this depressing line of thought, focusing on the sounds of people laughing, drinking. Bodies sliding between stools as smiles flash and glasses clink; a girl with slender curves and a mess of brown curls.

Draco’s liquor burns down his throat as their eyes lock. Then Granger is making her way over to him, each step draining the air from his lungs. 

She looks flustered up close, and it takes all of his willpower to push aside the images of her thighs spread underneath him. Her bra tugged down, and her skirt rucked up.

“Granger.” 

“Malfoy.” There’s a silence while she takes the empty stool across from him.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Draco watches her fiddle with her bracelet for a few moments before he has enough sense to conjure a second glass and pour her half of his Firewhisky. 

“Thank you.” She stares into the liquid. “I’m sorry I panicked yesterday. It caught me off guard. It's just that I don’t usually—” Her cheeks flush, and she breaks off.  

Draco’s stomach churns as he watches her down her drink. He braces himself for her to say she’s not ready—that it was all a mistake. That she's back with Weasley, and he’s back to another four years of dreaming about the way she looks when she— 

“I’d like to make it up to you.” 

His gaze snaps to hers. 

The seconds stretch as she swallows. “Unless, of course, you think I’m a cold-hearted bitch with bad taste in catalog preferences. And if that’s the case, I’ll just…” She waves at the exit and laughs nervously, like it doesn’t matter. Her fingers go back to twisting her bracelet. 

There’s a stirring in Draco’s spine as he takes her in. The air feels alight with promise again as he watches her weighing him, waiting for him.  Wanting him the way he's wanted her.  

“You know,” he says, “I think there are some merits to your catalog system.” 

Her eyes flicker, and her tongue darts across her lips. “You write the best incident reports in the department.” 

Draco's skin feels warm as he leans forward, tossing a handful of Galleons on the table. “Shall we?” 

“Please.” 

*

Consciousness returns to Draco in waves. He yawns as he drifts into his body, blinking slowly at the ceiling. Then there’s a gentle stirring next to him, and his eyes shoot open. 

Granger. In his bed, in his sheets, in his bloodstream. 

“Fuck, ” he mouths. 

They had. 

His jaw feels slack as the memory of last night returns to him, each image more delicious than the last. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stave off the arousal. He’s in desperate need of the loo, a shower, and a cuppa before he can even think about waking her up for round three. 

Or was it four?  

He glances over at her, watching her ribs rise and fall softly. Her face is buried in his pillow, the sheet draped low on her back, giving him the perfect view of the bruise he sucked into her shoulder last night. His cock twitches, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He needs to put distance between them before he succumbs to the temptation to yank down the bedsheet and wish her good morning with his teeth on her arse. 

His stomach muscles strain in protest as he carefully extricates himself, making as little noise as possible. Granger continues breathing softly into his pillow, her face obscured by a halo of curls.

His shower is quick. He manages to resist the urge to wank, but only because he turns the water to freezing cold three times. 

Granger is still snoozing softly when he summons a pair of boxers, tiptoes out of the bedroom, and closes the door before casting a quick silencing charm. 

He yanks on his boxers, and his "fuck" is out loud this time when he nearly trips.

He’s surprised to find that his throat is raw. But then he remembers how many times he growled into Granger's ear last night, and a stab of lust lances through him once more. 

Shaking his head, Draco heads to the kitchen and focuses on setting the tea kettle to boil. Only while he's waiting for it to steep does he finally, finally let himself remember. 

He’s hard in seconds. 

Whatever got into him last night— whatever got into her — he can’t say. He’s never been that domineering in the bedroom, but trust Granger to bring out new tastes he hasn't discovered in the near-decade he's been sexually active. 

Their first time last night was a haze of torn clothing and knocked-over end tables. Draco only barely managed not to take her against the wall, and her wrists had to be bruised from how hard he gripped them when he pinned her to his bed and tore her first orgasm from her. And her second. 

Granger is the kind of woman who likes to be in control. He knows this as intimately as he knows the sound of her laugh, and the curve of her mouth. The color and shape of her curls. 

It’s why he tried to give her the reins their second round, sliding her into his lap to straddle him. But she only managed to bounce on him a few times before he found himself thrusting hard beneath her, gripping her hips and controlling the pace. He massaged her clit when she went as slow as he told her to, and pinched her nipples when she didn’t, and after she shattered with a scream, he flipped her over and pounded into her until he saw stars.

He needed a bit more time before their third round— after all, he wasn’t sixteen anymore— but then Granger got the diabolical idea to crawl over him and lick him clean. She quickly found herself out of depth, pressed into the mattress as he took her from behind, one hand in her hair while the other rubbed at her clit. Instead of screaming her orgasm this time, she simply passed out. Thankfully, he wasn’t slow to follow. 

The tea is ready. Although Draco's interests are decidedly elsewhere, he’s hopeful that it might distract him. 

It doesn’t. 

Draco rakes a hand through his wet hair as he dregs his mug, ignoring the painfully hard state of his cock. There’s a tingling in his veins, as if Granger has slipped inside them, the mere memory of her more intoxicating than any drug or spell. 

He needs this again— needs her. He wonders if she feels the same, or if she’s had her fill. Gotten him out of her system.

The thought makes his stomach clench. 

Maybe he should go back to the bedroom and convince her otherwise. He’d start with kisses down her spine, and wake her with his fingers in her mouth, and his lips on her neck. Then he’d push inside her and make her come until she agrees they’re not done. 

He’ll never be done. 

The bedroom door creaks behind him.   

Draco whips around, and the sight nearly makes him choke on his tea. 

Granger is leaning against the doorway in her knickers— he was certain he’d ripped them last night, but clearly not— and one of his old shirts. 

But he'd be damned if it doesn’t look better on her, with the way she’s knotted it around her waist, her nipples pulling tight beneath the thin fabric. With her hair mussed, and her lips still swollen. 

She smirks at him, and he loses the ability to speak as she pushes off the doorway and crosses the room.

“Morning,” she says, stopping just in front of him.  

His throat clicks, and he misses the counter twice in an attempt to set down his mug.  “Morning.” 

“It is, isn’t it?”

She’s still smirking, cat-like, and it take him a second to follow the flick of her gaze and understand why. 

He’s still hard.

She steps into him a moment later, pressing her warm body against his as her fingers slide up and down his chest, and his skin sings at the sensation as he cups her arse, massaging it.  

And as she lifts her chin to plant the most mind-melding kiss on his lips, her fingers slip inside his boxers and wrap firmly around his cock. 

It jumps.

“Fuck,” he hisses. She smiles. 

He takes control of the kiss, tipping her chin for a better angle, his tongue tangling with hers as her lips part for him. He runs his hands all over her body until his cock is throbbing and his blood is on fire, but still her hand doesn’t move. 

He breaks the kiss with a frustrated groan. Her eyes are dark as he looks down at her, her teeth dragging across her lip, and realization hits like lightning.

She's waiting for orders. 

His mouth is suddenly dry. “Pump it.” 

She does— once, twice. He sucks in air, and when she finds a rhythm, he has to fight the urge to throw his head back. 

“Harder,” he breathes. 

She obeys, licking her lips, assessing his reaction. And his legs feel weak when he realizes he’s the new object of Hermione Granger’s study.  

“Fast—” 

He chokes on the word as Granger anticipates him, stroking quicker, harder, ever the quick learner. A moan escapes him as her hands and scent drive him into madness, his hips snapping with each twist of her wrist. 

“Just like that," he rasps, and he catches the triumph in her face just before his eyes roll back. 

He manages another ten seconds before his control snaps. Then he’s spinning her around, bending her over the table and pulling her hips back before tearing her knickers cleanly in two. She’s begging and writhing as he fingers her, her cunt already dripping for him, and then he's cursing as he knocks her legs apart and pushes inside her in only three thrusts. 

Perfect. 

She's perfect.

He can't help but hold her close as she adjusts, gasping. Like it takes all of her effort just to keep him inside.  

Draco licks up her neck and curves over her as he begins to fuck her in earnest, setting a pace until the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin. He pulls her ear between his teeth as she moans, pinning one hand to the table and palming her tits with the other, until mewls are bursting from her throat and she's thrashing underneath him. She's pleading with him by the time his hand drops between her thighs, rolling her clit, and he slows the pace until she's keening and clenching down on his cock. 

He fucks her through it until she drags him down with her, gasping her name as his hips slam into hers and his vision goes white. He's half-senseless from the pleasure by the time he collapses, sweaty and boneless as he empties inside her.  

His nose is buried in her hair as they catch their breath together, his heart thudding against her skin.    

She whimpers when he finally slips free, but makes no attempt to move. Neither does he. 

"So," he wheezes. "Dinner?"

Her neck strains in a slow nod. 

He can feel his pulse race. "How does Italian sound?”

"I prefer Chinese," is her winded reply. 

His eye twitches, and he lifts his head. "Vietnamese." 

There's a brief silence. And just when he thinks he's pushed her too far, she says, "Deal." 

His head drops back onto the table, and he closes his eyes. "There's a new place close to the Ministry. I'll pick you up at half-six—"

"Seven," she says, sounding more like her bossy self. "And I'll meet you there." 

His mouth tugs in a smile.  "That works." 

"Good." She wiggles to face him, her eyes bright, her skin still flushed. He's mesmerized by the dust of freckles on her nose as she leans forward, and their tongue meet as they kiss, lazy and slow.

He can't wait to see what other orders she has in store for him.