Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger
Warnings: Fairly Explicit Sexual Themes, More Talking Than You Would Think, Unrelieved Sexual Tension
Overall Rating: R
Summary: Hermione Granger is on a mission! It's a fairly simple mission. It really shouldn't be that hard. People do it every day! So ... why is she having so much trouble with it? Maybe it has to do with that annoying Draco Malfoy, yammering in her ear all night ....
Extra Note: An enormous debt of gratitude to margotlefaye bunney mazvn and little_dollface for betaing this for me with the toughest of love, and to little_dollface for making me the very shiny banner. You ladies rock!
Length: One-Shot, 7288 of 13952 words.
Hermione plonked down in her chair and sighed heavily.
"So, what happened?" Malfoy asked, looking strangely despondent at her return. Great. Not that she'd expected him to rejoice at her company, but he could at least be less pessimistic about it. Oh, wait, was that a sarcastic smirk? Lovely. He seemed to have found his humour at her rejection. Why didn't she just go drink a vial of poison and get it over with?
"I forgot my handbag," she very lamely said.
"Happens to me all the time when I'm trying to get laid."
"It was all I could think about when talking to him," she said, trying to explain. "That I'd left my handbag here. With you. And I didn't know if you were just going to leave it here, and it has my keys and my purse and the book I'm currently reading ...."
"I shrunk it."
"Who brings a book to a pub?" He shook his head. "You know, never mind. Your handbag is safe. You can just take it with you now."
"No!" she said, feeling close to tears from sheer frustration. "I can't. I can't do it. After all this trouble and everything I sacrificed, I can't even go through with it. I don't know how to be that aggressive and convincing. I don't know how to be that confident."
He stared at her. "You think you don't know how to be confident?"
Not when it mattered, apparently. She felt stupid. And queasy. "I should probably just go home, right? Like you said?"
He was still staring at her and she expected him to say, 'Yes, go on home. You don't have what it takes,' when instead he said, "No. Stay."
The low, hoarse tone of his voice did something to her insides and she looked up at him not even trying to hide her misery. "Why? What's the point?"
He hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but then moved so close to her he didn't have to raise his voice at all for her to hear him. "You should stop looking for points. When you do this ... the point is only what feels good in the here and now. Anything else is over-thinking it."
"Staying wouldn't feel good." She looked down and began picking at her handbag, unwilling to explain her statement. She could hardly tell him that her body was on fire and she was so frustrated she could weep, and that time spent here was time not soothing that maddening itch and ... she just wanted to go home.
"It could," he softly said.
She looked up in surprise at his tone of voice. Did he mean ...?
"Would it really be that bad?" he asked. "You may not truly want to sleep with a stranger, but I'm not really a stranger, am I? And I know how you feel. You need it."
Heat was flaring in his eyes and she felt an answering tightening in her abdomen as images of the two of them in various indecent poses flashed before her eyes. She just hadn't thought ... hadn't imagined ... that they could .... Right now it was a very appealing thought, though, very appealing. They'd been talking all night so she felt relaxed around him and that way he was currently looking at her ... oh, yes. But ... he was Draco Malfoy. Wouldn't an entanglement with him just be a date with disaster?
When she didn't reply right off because she was too busy trying to find her tongue, his eyes dropped to her lips and he bent forward, closing the gap between them. Her eyes widened and her first instinct was to pull back, but his hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place.
This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening.
Her second instinct was to close her eyes and forget that it was wrong. She felt a little dizzy, but assumed it was from the alcohol, and her heart pounding was probably just the excitement. The tingles in her belly and extremities were most definitely from the anticipation, which had built ever since she first decided to do this. The anticipation was also to blame for the sheer explosion of sensations she was experiencing from his lips moving over hers, she was sure. When he felt her becoming pliant, his hand fell away, granting her the freedom to move. His lips coaxed hers apart with sneakily delicious caresses and then his tongue begged entrance and began caressing hers in a way that had her every nerve ending screaming for the same kind of attention.
And it was aggressive in a way that could lead a witch to think she was wanted.
She struggled free. "What are you doing?" Had he thought this was what she'd wanted when she'd come back? Had this been what she’d wanted? No, she was fairly sure she hadn’t thought he might suggest they had sex together and then snog her. She’d just ... she didn’t even know. She should probably just have left, but their conversations tonight had felt almost nice. She'd wanted him to comfort her.
Did this count as comforting?
"Shut up," he murmured. "Just ... shut up. I can give you what you want, but only if you stop talking."
He grabbed her hand and before her alcohol-befuddled brains could think of any objections to make, he'd pulled her to her feet and was dragging her towards the bar. He must know the bartender better than she'd thought, because a couple of words later, he opened a door she'd never noticed and dragged her through it before shutting it behind them and pressing her up against it. Judging from the dimly lit narrow stairs going down beyond the landing, this was leading to some kind of storage area.
"You sure are friendly with the barkeeper," she nervously remarked. It felt good to be pressed against someone. Her body didn't seem to care who it was, it just tightened in anticipation. She was already teetering on the edge for no apparent reason and just needed a nudge to go over. God, she wanted him to do this, but she was still too apprehensive to just take charge. This was Malfoy for crying out loud. Since when did he want to sleep with her?
"Naw, not friendly," he murmured, breathing against her neck, sending tingles to her breasts and between her legs just with his damn breath. She closed her eyes. "The man just doesn't care as long as he gets paid," he continued.
"If you were going to pay, then why didn't you just get a room?" she breathlessly asked. It was hard to try to stay lucid when every time he made the slightest movement he was brushing against her somewhere making her want to scream and, Merlin, she needed this.
"Don't tell me that a bed was what you wanted." She could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk. “There are people right on the other side of this door. A lot of people. And unless you’re really, really quiet, they’re all going to know.”
Hermione swallowed. This was actually very closely resembling what she'd wanted. "You don't have to do this," she muttered, having difficulties staying focused as he was now running his lips up her neck. "I don't need a pity fuck."
Except she maybe sort of did. She just knew that she'd be mortified once she could again think clearly and realised that she'd let Draco Malfoy take pity on her for her extremely poor ability to find someone else to have sex with.
"You've got to be kidding me," he growled, looking down her. "You're too smart to be serious. You know that you left very little to the imagination when you yanked up that skirt of yours. Not to mention the prize view you've been giving me of your cleavage all night. And all that talk about sex and toys and knowing what you came there for .... Just live out your fantasy. It'll be fine."
Hermione decided to believe him. What was the worst that could happen? Ok, best not to go there.
He pressed his thigh between her legs and it felt so good she actually gasped and threw her head back. He apparently saw this as an invitation, because she felt his lips moving to hers. She willingly parted her lips in answer, inviting him in, wondering how her whole mouth could feel so sensitive. She quickly forgot to wonder, though, when he leaned in further, inadvertently pressing his thigh more firmly between her legs, rubbing her a little. She whimpered and grabbed his arms, greedily deepening the kiss, and pressing her breasts against him to ease some of that tingle as well.
Apparently, he got her not-so-subtle appreciation of the movement, because he repeated it, and it felt just as good this time. And then again. And again. It only took Hermione seconds before she was rubbing back against his thigh to ease the tension, but it wasn't enough, it simply wasn't enough. Her movements became more and more frantic and she vaguely thought she heard a strangled groan from him and then the orgasm slammed into her, making her cry out in sheer surprise with the force of it. Never had she felt anything quite like it. Every inch of her was vibrating and her entire body was jerking. It felt amazing in a slightly scary way.
After her body finally calmed down, she slowly opened her eyes, which had been squeezed shut, and saw that his eyes were shut as well and he was seemingly trying to force himself to breathe more calmly. She remembered there being something about breaths in the book about tantric sex she'd tried to interest Ron in one time. Even though this was hardly tantric, maybe she could benefit from trying to calm down a bit herself.
Even if it were too late to prevent making a complete spectacle of herself.
"I'm-I'm sorry," she nervously stuttered. "I don't know what came over me."
One edge of his mouth quirked and he opened his eyes. "I believe that was an orgasm ...."
She blushed. "I meant why I did that. Rubbing against you like some ... teenager in a Hogwarts broom cupboard."
"I have it on good authority that a lot of adults also appreciate rubbing," he muttered, still seeming a little amused.
"Yeah, but you didn't come here to be rubbed against, did you?" she asked, beginning to resent his amusement.
"I quite liked it actually. And we're not finished yet, are we?" he murmured in her ear.
No, they weren't finished yet. In spite of her powerful orgasm and subsequent embarrassment she was still quite ready to jump his bones.
She fumbled a bit to find her wand and removed the spell on her top. Immediately, both sleeves slid down her arms, leaving her feeling very naked but also strangely pleased about that feeling. He made an appreciative sound and hoisted her up on his hips before he bent down and began kissing the skin right above her breasts, tugging a little at her shirt fabric so it slid all the way to her waist, before he took as much of one breast as he could into his mouth.
Hermione gasped as wet warmth assaulted her and his tongue began stroking her nipple, making her vision go black for a second. "It makes no sense," she whispered. "Alcohol makes one feel less, so why do I feel so sensitive?"
Malfoy raised his head. "I told you to stop talking, Granger," he admonished.
She reached out to remove his shirt, button by excruciating button, and, then, as a few seconds later she could finally run her hands over his naked, pale chest, she said, "Remember, I'm not wearing any knickers." She wasn’t sure why she said that, but it seemed like just the kind of naughty reminder she was supposed to make.
It had more of an effect than she could have hoped for. With a few quite inventive mumbled descriptions of her personality, he reached down between her legs to feel for himself. “Why, so you aren’t,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, as his fingers lightly brushed her overly sensitive nub, making her gasp and dig her fingers into his shoulders. She knew she was very wet and she could tell from the way his jaw clenched and unclenched that he very much liked that.
His fingers danced down lower and then, quite suddenly, his mouth covered hers again and he kissed her deeply as a couple of his fingers slipped deep inside of her. She bucked, but there was no escaping the intensity of him touching her inside. She came again, her muscles clamping around those accursed blessed fingers. He kept them still until she calmed, and then he quickly removed them, intent written all over his face. After a few very precise movements he had opened his trousers without letting her down, and she could feel his naked flesh pressing against her.
She was really, really glad that she'd decided not to wear any knickers tonight.
He bent down and whispered in her ear, "This is where a nicer bloke would give you the opportunity to reconsider, to stop if you wanted to before any real harm was done. But you've had many of those opportunities tonight. Now it's too late. I won't be stopped so don't even think about being a tease or regretting this halfway through. I will get what you've been teasing me with all night. We’re not stopping until it's done."
Hermione whimpered. The progressive equal-rights fighter in her should probably object to being addressed this way, but the much larger part of her that was ruled by her hormones just loved the prospect of being possessed by a male driven by pure unadulterated lust.
Without further ado, he drove into her, making her see stars from the sheer pleasure of being filled like this. If she had been less wet, she was sure he would have hurt her, but she wasn't and he didn't. He moaned as if he was in pain himself, his fingers digging into her thighs, bruising her. She squirmed a little to get more friction and then found she could use her leg muscles to move against him.
"Granger!" he gasped, but she ignored him. She had a very specific goal in mind. She had no idea how it was even possible, but tonight it seemed anything could happen. And there it was, just, it wouldn't take long to ....
She cried out again and thrashed as another orgasm washed over her, hitting her head on the door but not caring very much. The same urgency that had come over her seemed to possess Malfoy, because he groaned and almost violently continued the rhythm she'd set for a few more thrusts and then made an almost desperate sound, pressing deep into her.
She sagged a little against him, enjoying the feel of his pleasure, but feeling a little sorry that it was over so soon. She could have gone all night. Maybe those toys at home would still see some use.
She was insatiable, it seemed.
She unwrapped her legs and pushed slightly against him so she could slide down to her feet.
"Oh, no, you don't," he hoarsely muttered and then resumed moving. "I told you; we're finishing this."
On one hand, Hermione was very confused. She could have sworn that he'd just come. On the other hand, it felt brilliant to have him moving inside of her and she didn't really care how or why. He reached down between their bodies, again lightly touching her, and it made all the difference in the world. Within minutes, she came again, even harder than before, whimpering into his neck. She'd never felt anything as good as this and she didn't want him to ever stop moving even if she wasn't sure she could handle another orgasm. She would be so sore in the morning.
"If you aren't quieter, they'll probably hear you out there," he rasped, sounding strained. "There really are people right on the other side of this door, you know ...."
"I don't care. Don't stop."
He bent a bit so he could kiss her again, and she eagerly accepted, enjoying any stimulation she could get. "I might have to sooner than I'd like," he admitted against her lips. "Granger ...."
His eyes were rolling back and his grip was tightening again. Those bruises really would be spectacular. "I probably should have told you ... before ...."
"Told me what?" she was feeling breathless again. The way he was pounding against her, she wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for days, but it felt so good! She was coming again, she could feel it. She dug her nails into his shoulders. Never had it happened so many times so fast on top of each other before. She'd always thought it physically impossible. She didn't even care why it was happening. This was the best kind of sex she'd ever had!
"The drink ..." he muttered against her hair once she could hear again, "it had an added magical aphrodisiac. I ... I thought it would be funny to see how you ... but drinking it myself bit me in the arse. God, I'm going to explode."
Hermione's eyes widened, but it was too hard for her to process such information right now when her traitorous body just wanted to be kissed, caressed and taken over and over again. She couldn't stop from reacting to the way he was spiralling out of control, the way he was coming ... again. Because that's what he had meant, right? That they were both insatiable because of what they'd been drinking? And so he had actually come before but, like her, just didn't feel like letting it stop him?
It didn't matter, because she was climaxing again, too.
This was crazy.
He was gasping against her neck and then winced slightly. "Never came so hard it hurt before," he muttered with a low laugh. "I don't think those amounts are safe ...."
That's when it hit her. He was only having sex with her because of the aphrodisiac, wasn't he? Her body was still throbbing for more in spite of the -- four, was it? Or five? Six, maybe? -- orgasms she'd already had. The level of need was artificial, sure, but at least she'd wanted this all along. He'd needed a damn near extreme level of some drug -- which was probably dangerous -- in order to even consider it.
"Then we should probably stop," she said, the coolness of her voice surprising even herself. Malfoy looked stunned as well. "I mean, sure, you could probably come a couple more times, but if the aphrodisiac is making it already painful, then why risk injury?"
He studied her face with a frown for a few seconds before responding. "I can handle myself, don't worry. The intensity just threw me a little."
"No, really. I insist," she said, pushing against him, not wanting him this close to her anymore. Her body was pulsing around him, beckoning him to continue and if he were to live up to what he'd said earlier, he would. And part of her wanted him to. But the part of her that needed to hold on to just a tiny bit of self-respect didn't.
He looked down her body, the heat that still remained in his eyes clearly telling her that he didn't want to stop at all, but then he seemed to change his mind and abruptly put her down and stepped back, leaving her feeling empty and cold. She scrambled to cover up a bit before she could change her mind, but even fully clothed she felt naked.
He did up his trousers, and then just looked at her, a hard look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in years. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "It's really good of you to consider my health." He obviously didn't buy it. And quite possibly he was frustrated because he’d had to stop while he was still hard.
"If ... if I'd known about the aphrodisiac, I'd have acted differently," she offered. "All in all you've been fairly decent to me tonight. Merlin, I probably needed someone to slip me something in order to get anywhere. I'm just sorry that ... I'm just sorry." She blindly fumbled for the doorknob and then fled, feeling the burn of humiliation.
Now she knew what felt worse than a pity fuck: A pity fuck where the wizard just couldn't summon the inclination to do it without overdosing them both on enhancers.
* * *
Hermione slowly opened her eyes and yawned. Her bed was nice and warm and she didn't want to leave it. Something was teasing at the edge of her memory, though. Like a dream she could almost remember. What was it? Oh, right! She dimly recalled it now. She'd gone out to find a bit of sexual adventure and had ended up sleeping with Draco Malfoy. Right. The mind really thought up the strangest things sometimes. She hadn't thought about Draco Malfoy in ages and now she dreamt she had wild sex with him? Interesting.
She stretched and gasped with the sudden painful stinging and dull throbbing on her thighs and between her legs. What the ...?
Her mind froze. No, it couldn't be!
She very carefully got out of bed and then, in front of the mirror, pulled down her pyjama bottoms.
Apparently, it could be. The middle of her thighs had several red marks, suspiciously shaped like someone had dug their fingers into them in the heat of passion. She didn't think dreams could be that vivid. Besides, now it was all coming back to her in great detail.
Now that she truly remembered, the burning humiliation returned. She even had the added embarrassment of recalling how she'd run off, all hurt and offended, when, really, what did she have to be offended about? She'd gotten her one-night-stand.
Malfoy had actually been very obliging when it came down to it.
She really just wished he had never told her about the aphrodisiac involved. She would have felt so much happier thinking that, for once, a wizard had truly wanted her with an all-consuming passion. Even if it were a ridiculously exaggerated experience.
But it wasn't his job to make her happy, was it?
It didn't matter, though. She'd lived her fantasy and she'd realised that she wasn't the sort that knew how to have sex with strangers. Hell, Malfoy hadn't even really been a stranger. Maybe everyone was right and she'd actually had it much better with Ron than she'd thought. True, she'd never had five or more mind-blowing orgasms in a row with him, but maybe it was time to put her obsession with sex aside and concentrate on something real. Time to be an adult. Like Ron had always wanted.
There was a knock on her door.
With a weary sigh, Hermione pulled up her bottoms and went to answer it. It was probably her landlady, here to complain about the hours that Hermione kept. She really did need a new place with less curious people around. Or maybe she needed to move back in with Ron. Because he certainly would be thrilled to learn that she'd slept with Malfoy.
But then again, he didn't need to know that, did he?
When she opened the door, however, it wasn't the landlady. "Malfoy?" she said with a frown. "Did you ... forget something?" She mentally stuffed away her embarrassment at being seen by him in her pyjamas and with morning hair. That was the least of her worries today.
"Yes," he said, looking a tad bit worried himself. "Yesterday, I was so ... um, far gone that I forgot to use anything. Will that be an issue?"
"Ah." Hermione's shoulders sagged a little as she felt inexplicably disappointed. It was a valid concern. A little late to consider, but valid. "No, don't worry. I didn't go unprepared."
His face cleared. "I knew I could count on you!"
Yes, wasn't she just the dependable one? "You didn't have to come here this early in the morning for that."
He looked slightly amused. "Granger, it's two o'clock."
Really? Well, in her defence, she'd had a long night. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You still didn't need to come here."
"I know." His gaze flickered slightly. "I was just wondering ... if maybe you'd like to go get a drink later."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "What?"
He put on a condescending look that Hermione had come to recognise as a mask and said, "I know I went easy on you yesterday, but I wasn't done."
"No," she drily commented. "Of course you weren't. Since when has anyone been done after only ... was it twice?"
"Three times, actually," he said with an unapologetic shrug. "You just didn't notice the first time. I got as overly excited as you did. The first few times always happen rather quickly under the influence of Ambrosia."
"Oh, three times, that makes it better."
"I've easily come five times before using this, and with the amount I had last night, who knows how many times I could have come before I passed out or became too sore to go on? But that's still not the point."
"What is the point then?"
He leaned against her doorframe. "Apart from me not being done, you mean? I have a dungeon."
"You've seen it, I believe?” he said as if he weren’t confusing the hell out of her. “It's a real dungeon. With chains. And shackles. I was thinking about how I never realised its true potential ...."
A dungeon did sound oddly fun, but he couldn't really be suggesting that they ...?
"And in a couple of weeks I'm hosting this Ministry event on my grounds. I think your department was even invited to it."
Hermione blinked. Damn, he was right. "Oh. Yeah. I'd forgotten all about that. My superiors are making me go." That could get awkward ....
He snorted. "Everyone's superiors are making them go. It's one of those things nobody wants to go to. Hell, I don't even want to go and it's my event! But right next to the party there's a rather dense private forest with a hidden path to a clearing that is very close to the dullness yet unlikely to be discovered."
Hermione swallowed. Outside? Ron had never wanted to do it outside. Hermione loved the trees and the grass and the flowers and she would have loved to make love there, but no matter how secluded they'd been, she had never been able to convince him to do it.
"As for tonight ... there's this pub down in Knockturn Alley. Its glasses are dirty and its clientele is dirtier, but I think you may like its back alley. I'll show it to you."
An alley? He would have sex with her in an alley? Why had nobody ever told her that sexual relationships could be so ... interesting? And scary. She shifted her position a little and winced at the burn. It certainly was physically wearing. "I can't. I'm sore."
His eyes darkened with anger. "Weak excuse, Granger. You and I both know that can be treated within the hour. If you can't handle sleeping with me sober, then just say so. Then I will find someone who can. It's not really going to be that difficult."
Hermione frowned. Was it honestly that odd that she had problems looking at him, sober, in daylight, no aphrodisiacs to make her lose her mind, and imagining them doing very naughty things indeed? "You don't think it's weird at all?"
"No, I don't care," he growled. "I just want mind-blowing sex and I was of the impression that you wanted the same thing. But maybe you've had enough? Maybe you weren't as interested in exploring as you let on and you are now already ready to go back to your Weasley. Is that it?" His eyes pierced hers.
He still hadn't actually entered her flat. She hadn't asked him in and he hadn't asked to be let in. He was just standing there, in the hallway, leaning against her doorframe, unabashedly talking about fantasies and asking if she still had hers. Her landlady was probably eavesdropping, and Hermione didn't even care. She was looking into a pair of grey eyes that had always seemed so cold to her, and they were asking her if she wanted more mind-blowing sex or not. Did she ever! But ... with him? Sober? Did he really want that?
Then his last words registered and she blushed a little as the accusation that she was already ready to go back to Ron hit a little too close to home for comfort. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in exploring! She just wasn't very good at finding new people to do it with and she certainly hadn't thought Malfoy would show up here, but now he had and, well .... "It really is offensive how you keep assuming I'll end up with Wea-- uh, Ron again."
He smirked. "So far I see no evidence that you won't."
Except that she'd slept with Malfoy. And was considering doing it again. The kind of adventure he was offering really was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for her, but she knew that if she took it, she was unlikely to ever be able to go back to Ron again. Saying goodbye to the past was scary. She needed time to think! "Knockturn Alley, huh?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "I'll fulfil every fantasy you can think of and even introduce you to some new ones if you like, on three conditions."
Fantasy fulfilment sounded nice, but ... he had conditions now? "What?" she carefully asked. "Aphrodisiacs every time?" That would be one way for him to do it, she supposed ....
He shot her an exasperated look. "No, that might kill me. I spent half the night immersed in ice water, unable to feel my ... toes. No, first, I, unlike your Weasley, love to be sucked off and really want to see that busy mouth of yours get to work. That thought alone forced me to spend another hour in that damn icy water."
She swallowed, her mouth feeling strangely dry. "I guess that's reasonable." Another hour in the ice water, he'd said? Was that because of the aphrodisiacs or was it ... want? She wanted want! She'd be really happy and grateful if some want came her way.
And she'd make sure to let him know exactly how grateful she was. She was a really good student.
His lips quirked as if he knew the thought of what they could do together made her skin feel hot and tight. "Second, you mentioned an impressive collection of toys. I want to try those."
Hermione pursed her lips, thinking of the big moving box in her bedroom. "All of them?" That could take some time! Not that she minded, but ... she figured he was the kind of wizard who might get bored easily.
He shrugged carelessly. "Anything Weasley didn't use. My need to explore has its limits. And third ...." He uttered a weary sigh. "A bed. Just every once in a while."
She frowned, considering that. "Like, renting a room?"
"No. I mean, sure, yes. But sometimes I want to be somewhere I can pass out without having to worry about leaving until I feel like it. You do have a bed, don't you, Granger?" There he went, mocking her again.
"I do, but we can't use it. I'm not allowed to have wizards sleeping over." He shot her an incredulous look and she blushed and muttered, "Didn't seem like an issue at the time." She'd just needed a new place to stay quickly and she hadn't even considered that she might want to have anyone sleeping over before she found a better place.
"Fine," he said, rather reluctantly. "I guess I have about a dozen beds."
"But none you'd want me to sleep in," she concluded. Now she knew him again. She had never deluded herself into thinking that this was more than a purely physical arrangement he was proposing, but the fact that he didn't even want her near his bed stung. Did she really want to sleep with someone who thought so little of her on a personal level?
"My bed is ... mine,” he admitted. “I don't like to share it. With anyone. As long as that's not a problem, we can use the guest rooms."
Hermione shrugged, very slightly mollified from hearing that it wasn't just her he didn't want sullying his bed. "I don't really need to sleep over. But before I commit to anything, I have a few questions." If he could make demands so could she. And she just really needed to know one or two things.
He raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."
"First, what about your ex?" she asked. She might as well get that one over with. She wouldn't particularly care to have to book appointments in between other witches in order to get her needs seen to.
"Well ..." he said, drawing it out a bit. "If you're asking whether I'll still be seeing her, the answer is a relieved no, as I don't have the stamina for two of you and I'm quite glad to be rid of her. If you're asking how I go about telling her, I don't. She's already my ex and I don't owe her any explanations."
"It would be nice of you to send her an owl telling her you're ending the arrangement -- for now, at least. If we should do this."
"Nothing nice about me or her but if it'll shut you up, I can send her a note."
Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Oh, she hadn't meant it would be a nice thing to do for his ex, but whatever. "Good. Second ... what happened?" She made another dry swallow and tried to ignore how her palms were becoming sweaty. Maybe she didn't want to know this.
"What happened when?"
She took a deep breath. "What happened to make you go from disdain to disinterest to artificial interest to ... here."
"Disinterest? Artificial interest?"
"Yeah, you know. The part between me sitting down and you dragging me over to the wine cellar or whatever that was and having intensely enhanced sex with me."
He stayed quiet. It was a silence that made her uncomfortable.
"I mean, last night I understand," she babbled, filling the silence. "You'd had a lot of those drinks and I know from myself that they were rather effective and I was a convenient outlet .... Is that why you're here? Because it was better than you'd thought and you'd rather have sex with anyone other than your ex? It's fine if that's the case, really, I just ... would like to know."
It wasn't really that fine, but Hermione had long since acknowledged that she'd have to make great sacrifices if she wanted great sex. Yesterday, she'd learned that a big part of her self-esteem would be that sacrifice. That didn't mean she didn't think she could please him, though. She might not have sex appeal, but she'd make damn sure he found out just how quick a learner she was.
"Granger ..." Malfoy said with a reluctant sigh. "Ambrosia can't make you want anything you otherwise don't want. It just makes it easier and more enjoyable to go for what you do want."
"Right," she said, nodding. "Sex. You wanted it. A lot."
"Yes, but it'll do absolutely nothing to make it easier to sleep with anyone you don't really want to sleep with in the first place. You experienced this yourself as you didn't really manage to chat up any other wizard in the room. You didn't want to do it. You didn't want a stranger. I think you just thought that a stranger was the only way to get what you did want."
"And you're saying I wanted you?"
"On some level," he said with a careless shrug. "Probably because I felt safer than the alternatives. You know me. You know I'm a largely harmless git. And I wanted you because you kept moving in ways that clearly showed me that you're not used to wearing such low-cut tops and you kept talking about your sex life and outfits and toys and I couldn't help but try to imagine it all ...."
"You claimed you didn't want me!"
He sighed again and wearily rubbed his face. "Do you honestly expect me to remember exactly what was said? Yeah, I may have lied to you. I'm not an honest bloke. But the fact of the matter is that Ambrosia still can't make anyone do anything they aren't otherwise inclined to do. It just ... opens you up."
"Opens you up?" Hermione frowned. That sounded rather tricky.
"Yes. It makes it impossible to hold anything back. Nerves, fears ... those things don't matter anymore. What matters is what you want. You just can't say no to it anymore. Some people can drink gallons of Ambrosia and still not get any pleasure from themselves or others, though, because they're simply incapable of it. They lack the natural inclination."
"Huh." Wouldn't that be something if the drink really worked that way?
"Hey, you like to read," he said, looking slightly annoyed with her reluctance to take his word for it. "Look it up!"
She just might do that. Because if what he said was true ... that would make her day -- or possibly even her year.
"Ok, another question," she said, hiding the premature giddiness that she might be wanted after all. "You said it had never been so intense before. That it hurt. Or something to that effect. How did that work?"
"I'd never had those amounts of Ambrosia before," he said. "Frankly, it was uncomfortable. I was hard all night and sore as hell and then had three powerful orgasms in rapid succession, which still did nothing to help my condition. I think that you were probably right to stop me before I hurt myself and I don't think I ever want to consume as much of it as I did last night again. It was almost scary."
"I'm glad you thought so too," she muttered.
"Let's just try it the old-fashioned way, no enhancers. Hell, let's not even get drunk!"
He wanted her to have completely sober sex with him somewhere in Knockturn Alley tonight? "Wow, you must really want a change from your ex," she cautiously concluded.
"Yes, I do. But it's not her I've been thinking about all morning. Your bare leg with the skirt pulled all the way up to your waist ... now that image still stays with me. Along with the image of you coming against me, on me, around me .... I want to see how easy it is to do when you aren't influenced by anything. And how many times I can do it."
Hermione's heart began pounding and she swallowed. When he put it like that ....
"But," he added, "I guess you're going to have to decide if you really want to take the risk."
"The ... the risk?" she asked, frowning.
"Well, not so much a risk as a guaranteed negative side effect. We may have been spotted last night by someone who knows us. Or we may be spotted tonight. Or next time. At some point it will happen and it will get back to your friends. I'm not going to invest a whole lot of energy in keeping this thing a secret when neither of us are even married."
"Oh ...." She saw his point and didn't look forward that possible confrontation. "Oh! How about your family? Won't it get back to them?"
"They won't care."
"Won't they find it ... inappropriate? A danger to your lineage?"
He shrugged, looking almost bored. "Inappropriate, maybe. But they know I wouldn't bring a future Mrs Malfoy to places as vulgar as The Leaky Cauldron or anywhere Knockturn Alley has to offer. I certainly wouldn't have sex with her there."
"Oh, right. My bad," Hermione drily commented, not even that surprised at the reply. She was Muggleborn after all and Malfoy was ... well ... a mean git. It was good to be reminded of that. And maybe it was a wizard thing that passion didn't belong in a committed long-term relationship.
The whole 'Madonna or Whore' thing was getting really old. Fast.
"I will try not to make it too hard for Weasley to eventually forgive you," he then said. She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off, "Don't pretend you aren't going to go back to him. We both know that this is just a phase. Once the sex is out of your system, you'll turn to the wizard that'll give you a family and a nice, cosy, boring, average existence. Weasley may not be very exciting, but you made up your mind a very long time ago to make a life with him, and you never struck me as someone whose mind was easily changed. I don't care, but just don't deny it. Do we have a deal?"
Hermione slowly closed her mouth. Maybe he was right that her mind had been made up. She did seem to have some trouble letting go of the idea of Ron. She was working on it, however. She had tried the relationship without passion and that hadn't worked for her. Now she was going to try the passion without relationship for a while because she needed it. But after that? She wasn't going back. She wanted both, damn it! And if there weren't a wizard in Britain to give it to her, then she would just have to associate more with Muggles.
Realising he was looking at her expectantly, she nodded. "Sure." She didn't have to tell him that he was wrong. It didn't matter. Maybe it made him feel safer to think that she wasn't completely free to be with whoever she wanted to. Maybe he needed this to be sure she wasn't going to fall for him. As if. Who in their right mind would fall for such an arse? Sleeping with him was one thing, but actually trusting a git like that not to hurt her? Nuh-uh. No way. Never. No orgasm would ever be that good.
He smirked and she chose to ignore how triumphant he looked. "Good. Get the soreness taken care of. Meet me at the entrance to Knockturn Alley -- never enter on your own at night -- at eight o'clock and wear knickers this time."
She raised her eyebrows. "I thought you liked it when I didn't."
He pushed away from the doorframe and turned to leave. "I also like trophies."
After he was gone, Hermione quietly closed the door. She had just agreed to a physical affair with Draco Malfoy.
She was probably in deep trouble now.
She'd been waiting for this kind of trouble for years.
She needed a new flat. And a sturdier bed.