Chapter Text
It wasn’t working.
She was doing everything right but it wasn’t working.
She clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt, staring down into the belly of her cauldron where a potion was simmering, a jolly yellow hue when it should have been a cool, iridescent navy. While the need to achieve academic perfection was something she’d grappled with her entire youth, the level of irritation to which this particular failure was bringing her was quite unprecedented.
It was likely being exacerbated by the overwhelming courseload she’d slung on herself, determined to not leave her final year at Hogwarts without obtaining every single ounce of knowledge that she could squeeze from it. Rationally, she knew it was a thinly veiled coping mechanism to keep the anxieties of what to do next at bay, not to mention completely overwhelm her mind so that it couldn’t dwell on the things that had come before.
But damnit it all to hell, if this fucking potion failed again she was going to absolutely lose it. She tried to take a calming breath but it came out more like a hiss of frustration through her clenched teeth.
Given the scant number who’d returned to complete their final year, the Eighth Years had been cobbled together with the Seventh Years for their studies. And of those who’d returned, only three others of her year had elected to take potions.
The one who shared the worktop with her now glanced at her askance. She’d done her best to ignore him, primarily because his potion was a gorgeous blue hue, so his attention on her now infuriated her further.
“What?” she snapped, eyes cutting to him.
He raised his brows in surprise, almost disappearing behind the fringe of white-blond hair that had fallen forward in the humidity of the classroom.
Malfoy.
Any other year, it would’ve been torture to share a desk with him but after all the turmoil of the prior spring, they’d returned to the castle as new people.
She had, at least, and who was she to assume he hadn’t?
He certainly didn’t act like he had before. He was still slightly pretentious, yes, and that damn smirk of his was unfaltering on occasion, but he wasn’t cruel to her anymore. At the start of the term, he’d simply given her a nod of acknowledgement and been a benign presence ever since, sharing as they did the majority of their classes. He’d been the one to first breach their passive silence back in October, and she’d been surprised enough to respond. It was almost March now and though they weren’t exactly friends, they weren’t enemies either.
They weren’t anything, really.
But one thing he was was still observing her silently.
When he still didn’t say anything, her irritation spiked. She slammed the paring knife she’d been gripping down onto her work surface, inhaled a tremulous breath of pure fury, and then held it while she vanished the contents of her cauldron. The period was almost over so she didn’t have time to try it again, and definitely wasn’t in the right headspace to hear Slughorn’s bumbling assessment of where she’d gone wrong, so she packed her bag with slightly shaky hands, her pent up frustration channeling itself through her nerves and searching for a way out.
She didn’t spare anyone a parting glance as she strode out of the classroom and down the corridor, so was shocked when a hand gripped her wrist. Her magic flared instantly, sparks zapping along her fingertips and the perpetrator released her instantly.
It was Malfoy.
Of course it was.
“Salazar,” he hissed. “Get a grip, Granger.” He shook his hand like he’d touched a live wire. In a sense, he had.
“Sorry.” It was automatic but not wholly empty; she did feel a bit badly for hurting him — accidentally, at least.
“You need to vent that energy before you explode with accidental magic like a fucking first year,” he advised, adjusting his school bag over his shoulder.
She glared at him. If only it was that easy. “I don’t have time for additional spellwork! That’s the entire problem, Malfoy!” she snapped.
He stared at her, then laughed, derisive but not quite mean. “I didn’t mean spellwork, Granger. Merlin, you really are stuck in deep if that’s where your mind went, aren’t you?”
“Then what.” Her tone was as clipped as her steps down the corridor, no longer patient enough to listen to him while standing still. He kept up easily, unbothered by both her tone and cadence.
“I get a sense you might hex me if I even say the word,” he responded dryly.
She drew in an aggravated breath and then said, as calmly as she could, “I won’t. Just say it.”
He hesitated then evidently found the courage. Brave little snake. “You need an orgasm.”
That was absolutely the last thing she’d thought Draco Malfoy would ever say to her. Did he even consider her a sexual creature? How interesting. But regardless, his advice was useless because orgasms weren’t something she had ready access to.
“Excellent advice.” She turned a corner suddenly and quickly trotted up the steps. He barely faltered, keeping up with her seamlessly, uncowed by her unwelcoming tone.
“That sounded sarcastic.”
“Ten points to Slytherin,” she said, even more sarcastically, and then winced when she remembered that, as Head Girl, she actually had the authority to grant them and would probably see an additional ten emeralds in their vessel at dinner. Bugger.
“It is excellent advice though; there’s no need to be sarcastic about it. It always helps clear my mind.”
She resisted a sharp comeback that he probably didn’t have quite as much mind to clear as she, but only held her tongue because she realized it might inadvertently support his point.
“Validity of it aside, it’s not helpful advice,” she amended.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Merlin, was she really going to say it? She considered him for a moment. He seemed earnest and really, who would believe him if he told? It was too unlikely a topic for them to discuss.
“Because I don’t orgasm.”
He narrowed his eyes, processing this. “What do you mean, you don’t? Have you…tried?” he asked at last.
“Yes.” She glared over at him, annoyed anew that he thought she’d just taken the reality of it lying down. Well, in a sense she had but that wasn’t the point.
He frowned briefly then the expression cleared into something like understanding. “Oh, I don’t mean with someone else,” he explained, “I know that’s unfortunately not always a given for women, if their partner isn’t attentive. No, I just meant by yourself.”
“So did I,” she deadpanned.
That little frown appeared again, then cleared just as quickly. “Right. Well. But you understand the, er, mechanics of it, don’t you?”
“Of course. Not only is it my body but do you really think I’d have gone nineteen years without reading about it?” Her tone had slipped accidentally, less stern and closer to the jocular way she spoke with her friends.
He smiled, bemused, and her heart faltered. He’d never looked at her like that before.
“So what’s the problem then? If you understand the theory and evidently have the interest in putting it to use.”
That he was still engaging in the conversation with her — and in such a moderated, inquisitive manner — was causing a slight throb in her temples and at her wrists. Confusion and a foreign sense of anticipation were cascading over the dam wall that her rage had formed, crumbling her irritation and sweeping her fury further downstream. She felt oddly…bereft.
She hesitated and then admitted, much more calmly. “I don’t know.”
“Alright. Well, mindset has a great deal to do with it. Why have you tried?” he asked.
She glanced sideways at him, her pace slowing without conscious thought. “What do you mean?”
“What turned you on to the point that you just had to slip your hand into your knickers?”
She flushed slightly at the image but managed to keep her tone dispassionate and face forward. “Oh. Nothing. It was just to satisfy an academic curiosity.”
It was true enough. She’d had exactly zero libido for almost the entire span of seventeen to nineteen — being on the run and literally fighting for her life seemed to have had that effect on her — so had only recently had the urge to explore. She had a private room as Head Girl so for once, had been able to relax without the fear of the hangings around her dormitory bed being yanked open.
But…nada. It had been an interesting exercise in learning more about her anatomy but hadn’t felt like much more than when she ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth: ridges and soft places, wet but inert.
He hadn’t seemed to anticipate this response. She watched him grapple with it momentarily before he gamely adjusted his approach. “Okay. Well, was the result satisfactory enough even if you didn’t come? Or do you still have…academic curiosities?”
She considered denying it but he was being considerate enough in his questioning to warrant her honestly, and the topic was distracting her enough that her magic still simmered patiently just below her skin, a reprieve. “It was unsatisfactory.”
He absorbed this with a nod, like she’d finally given him the answer he was expecting. “I could help you, if you like.”
She stopped, turning to face him in the deserted corridor. Now that she seemed unlikely to hex him on sight, his body language had relaxed. He stood easily, eyes interested and intent on her, hands in his pockets. Utterly defenseless.
Warmth prickled.
She smothered it.
“No. Thanks.”
His expression flicked momentarily to something akin to disappointment but that didn’t make sense so she dismissed it.
He nodded, unaffected again. “Just thought I’d offer.”
She watched him carry on down the hallway until he was out of sight.
But not quite out of mind.
She found him again just after dinner in the newly-created General Common Room.
Headmistress McGonagall had had the good sense to provide a unified place for them to gather, irrespective of their sorted House. It was her first step toward breaking down the barriers that four divided Houses had caused for so long. They still slept in their assigned House dormitories but having a central place to relax together had been a missing piece they hadn’t been aware they’d needed. Indeed, watching Neville and Luna sit with heads bent together over a small, spiky plant filled Hermione with a warm sense of contentment.
The feeling was fleeting as she found her mark, reading in an armchair by the fireplace. She tried not to let the image do anything to her as she strode over to stand in front of him. He noted her presence with an upturn of his eyes, though his face remained tilted down toward his book.
She’d been stewing over his offer since he’d made it and had come to the conclusion that her initial response had been perhaps a tad too hasty and further questioning was required to make an informed decision.
“What makes you think you know anything to help me?” she asked rather abruptly.
He looked up at her properly for a beat before catching up. It wasn’t a huge leap as they’d only spoken a few hours earlier but she was impressed nonetheless by his quick understanding. “My best friend is a lesbian, Granger,” he said with a wry smile. “And one prone to lectures almost as frequently as you.”
She appreciated that he didn’t tease her for still thinking about his offer. Based on his quickly-concealed reaction at her polite refusal, she’d gambled that it hadn’t been empty air.
His best-friendship with a woman did put a rather positive mark in his favor in terms of having the necessary credentials, even if secondhand. Hermione certainly put a bit more stake in Pansy’s knowledge of female anatomy than Malfoy.
Hermione could probably use that tidbit to her psychological advantage, too. Despite not personally being sexually attracted to women, knowing that Pansy was a pseudo-buffer between herself and his knowledge was appreciated. She wasn’t looking to start something with anyone. So, she wouldn’t exactly think about Pansy while he did…whatever it was he had in mind but, well, she wouldn’t not.
“And just how hands-on was your tutelage?” She maintained her snippy tone though again, irritatingly, found him unfazed by it. Though if he was close friends with Pansy, she suspected he was quite used to brashness by now.
He closed his book, a forefinger marking his place. “If you’re asking whether I’ve found success applying the education practically, then I can assure you I have. Would you like some references? You could interview them if you like. Make a proper study of it first.”
While she had half a mind to call his bluff and do that very thing, but that would take precious time she did not have, so instead she just rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
He quirked a brow, smirking. “Maybe. But I think you find me quite a bit more annoying than anyone else does. Almost like you’re trying to.”
When she glared at him, not even deigning the accusation a single word of retort, he laughed. “Fine, Granger. It doesn’t matter a whit to me whether you relax or not as long as you don’t explode magic in my vicinity. I just thought to offer a helping hand, so to speak.”
She was, annoyingly, still intrigued. “So to speak?”
He shifted in his chair, crossing an ankle on the opposite knee. “Well I wasn’t planning on touching you, if that’s what you’re concerned with. Just talking you through the finer points.”
“You want to talk me to an orgasm?” She admittedly didn’t have a firm grasp on what her body was capable of but that seemed rather an outlandish proposition.
He cleared his throat, suddenly pink-cheeked. How curious. “In a manner of speaking. Yes. I was thinking of just, er, telling you how to direct your hands, to give you an idea of what might work for you, and keep you focused. In the right mindset.”
Right. Mindset. She couldn’t deny that she already instinctively keyed into whatever he was saying whenever she heard his voice, directed at her or not. He had a lovely voice, now that it wasn’t sneering or spewing slurs in her direction.
It was a decent proposal, all things considered. The only issue was that of timing. Specifically, how much time it would take given how much time this was already taking.
“Will that be the most efficient method though?” she asked. “Wouldn’t your knowledge be better suited by direct application?”
She kept her face openly curious, pushing back the notion that she’d just inquired whether Draco fucking Malfoy would like to try to get her off. He blinked, presumably realizing the same.
“If that’s what you’d prefer,” he said at last, tone careful.
“I think it is,” she said. “I expect I’ll still be able to apply the techniques I pick up from the experience and I really don’t have the time to learn then apply. I’d rather go the most efficient route.”
“Well, the fastest way would be with my mouth on you but since this is intended to be a lesson you can revisit alone, it’s probably best to stick to just my hands.” He said it with such a blasé tone, a cool confidence, that she couldn’t help but feel hopeful.
And quite excited at the prospect of learning and feeling something new.
She nodded agreeably and did her level best to keep her eyes on his and not drop them to his mouth. What would his mouth feel like? she wondered. Wet, certainly. And soft. He had a nice mouth, objectively speaking, and clearly knew how to use that silver tongue of his.
But his motivation was yet to be determined. Surely he wasn’t as altruistic as this.
“Why?” she inquired. “Is this some sort of penance?”
His blush deepened slightly but his expression stayed confident. “Can’t I just want to help?”
“Frankly, I’d be more comfortable with this being your strange way of making it up to me than you purely wanting to help.”
She saw that her words had struck something soft in him and felt a bit badly, but he recovered quickly. “Of course I’m penitent. It can be about that if you prefer.”
She made a noncommittal sound, unsure if she wanted a lie just for her comfort. But then, she didn’t owe him anything and, if she was being litigious, he owed her quite a bit. Perhaps an orgasm for each time he’d called her a slur? Surely that was fair recompense.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d just like a release. So, make it about whatever you wish. I’m rescinding my no thanks and am now saying yes please.”
His jaw visibly tensed but he relaxed it with a swallow. “Alright. When?”
She glanced down at his book, then back up. “You don’t seem busy now.”
His smirk had a playful edge to it this time. “Now?” He laughed, a soft sound. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t want to delay learning.”
Her magic felt tingly, or maybe just her nerves were picking up the anticipatory excitement that fluttered through her at the prospect.
“I have a private room,” she informed him.
His eyes dropped to the Head Girl badge pinned to her jumper. “How convenient.”
She ran her teeth along the side of her cheek, resisting the urge to snap at him. She was determined now but it still grated to have to ask him twice. “Well? Shall we go there? Or do you need time to, er, prepare?”
He slid his finger out of the book, the pages coming together with a satisfying whump. “Nope. I’m ready.”
He stood and gestured her onward with it. “After you.”