Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Angst, Drama, Health, Humour, Romance, Smut
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Physical Trauma, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione is far too fond of cake and all but attached to Harry at the hip. Generally, it's working out for her, but lately Draco has been annoying her to death by mocking her weight and her relationship with Harry. One day she spots some logic in his claims that she and Harry ought to be more than friends. Uncertain how to proceed, she agrees when Draco volunteers to help. This turns out to get very confusing very fast, as Hermione finds herself becoming attracted to the wrong person...
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and dollfaced for the beta and handiangel for the Britpick. You guys are brilliant. :)
Chapter Length: 5,671
By Tuesday, Hermione realised she’d better set up a meeting with Malfoy, soon.
The reason was fairly simple—cake.
Every day she hid and didn’t go to the canteen for lunch, Malfoy made certain that there was cake in her office. Deliciously spongy cake. It was simply sitting there, taunting her with its presence. One time she almost managed to chuck the piece out, but... it would be such a waste. There were people starving in this world, after all.
He was a cruel, cruel man. He knew she had to eat the damn cake.
So gathering all of her righteous indignation, she sought out the offender, barging into his office like some sort of goods train.
"You can’t keep doing that!" she insisted, before he even had a chance to look up from his parchments.
He was seated in his lounger. Funny how, when she thought about it, it reminded her of a sickbed.
He shot her a confused glance. "Doing what?"
"The cake!" She knew she’d lost it but she didn’t even care. "Why do you hate me so?"
He pursed his lips, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Giving someone cake isn’t an act of hatred."
"You know how I struggle with it," she whinged.
"Then merely stop avoiding me," he quietly said. "I’m no different than before simply because you know of my condition."
She stared at him, frowning as she was working this out. "You thought I was avoiding you because of your... health issues... and sent me cake?"
He looked back down at his parchments, seemingly only half-interested in their conversation. "I knew it would be the quickest way to flush you out. You seem to think that a few ounces of extra padding on your thighs matter to anyone but you."
"But it does!"
"I can’t have this discussion with you, Granger. We’re never going to agree and it’s taxing."
She narrowed her eyes at him. They were never going to agree? That, she couldn't quite live with. Maybe it was time to educate him a bit. Without a word, she fished out her wand and made certain his door was closed and securely locked.
"Will this be the day you kill me, then?" he drily asked, watching her.
"Do I really need to show you?"
He frowned. "Show me..?"
"My body!" He stared at her and she stared back at him in defiance, but when no comments were forthcoming, she said, "Well?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, what?"
"Do you really need me to show you how... unfortunate... I look under these?" she indicated her robes.
"Ah. So that’s what you’re trying to say... I was wondering... In fact, I'm still kind of—"
"Why do you have to sabotage me? Does it amuse you to know that I hate my body?" She knew she was a bit like a broken record at this point, but she didn’t care. She was sick and tired of being ridiculed for wanting to lose weight. Yes, she knew that as a strong, modern witch, she ought to accept her own physique for what it was and have a stronger focus on being healthy within that frame. After all, a good self-esteem was the most attractive feature anyone could have.
Knowing how she should feel didn’t magically change her feelings.
Malfoy didn’t reply right away. "Potter—"
"Screw Harry! I’m tired of being loved for my brains!" Wouldn't it be nice if just once more in her lifetime someone would call her beautiful and actually mean on the outside?
He blinked. "That’s... a new one."
"I know! But I’m just so sick of hearing about how clever I am as if that's all I am. I'm a woman too! Do you have any idea how confusing it is with you constantly lying to me, making me feel like rubbish, and sending me cake to sabotage me?"
Why am I telling him this much? She knew she would be embarrassed later, but right now the anger made it hard to hold back. Maybe if she explained why some things bothered her, he’d stop doing them.
She didn't actually believe that. Yet she couldn't help pressing on.
"I never—" Malfoy began.
She cut him off again. "Don’t even try to lie to me again!"
"I never lied to you when I said I was attracted to you, and I never tried to sabotage you. Quite the opposite, I think."
He exhaled heavily, his head falling back against the lounger as if he were completely exhausted. "I might’ve... deliberately downplayed my attraction a bit. Didn’t realise it might matter to your perception of yourself."
Hermione eyed him sceptically. It was hard to trust anything he said at this moment. "You downplayed it? Like when you said you only slept with me because it was hard to find anyone at all to sleep with?"
He frowned, looking genuinely confused. "I don’t recall ever saying that."
"It was implied."
"I wish you wouldn't always believe the worst of me. Especially when it pertains to you."
"Why wouldn't I believe the worst when you so often confirm it as the truth?"
He chose not to address that, making her even more suspicious. Instead he said, "I don't actually understand why you pay any attention at all to anything I say." He shook his head as if truly baffled that his constant disparagement had an effect on her.
"Because you're the only one saying what I want to hear. And then you take it back." She sounded pathetic. She hated sounding pathetic. She hated how pathetic kept escaping her mouth and how she cared about what he thought.
She really ought to meet new people. People that weren’t bigoted, manipulative, evil sods, who could kiss a witch one second and tell her to go kiss someone else the next.
"I shouldn't be."
She shrugged. "Doesn't change things."
He looked away from her and then bit out, "What do you want me to do about it?"
Ouch. She'd kind of hoped for some reassurance, something to indicate that he wasn’t as indifferent as she’d thought. Maybe this was better. Maybe she ought to subject herself to a full dose of pure Malfoy in order to get past whatever was making her feel this lost. "Tell me the truth."
"No. The only reason you’re even doing this is because you want to boost your ego. If you want an ego boost, go find Potter."
That told her a whole lot of nothing. Even if she had asked to get an ego boost, it didn’t mean the truth would be one. Had he always been this evasive and misleading?
"Say you understand why I want to lose weight," she demanded.
He shrugged. "I understand the pressure of society's beauty standards, but I disagree with you trying to live up to them. They wouldn't suit you."
"Say you want me, then." It was pathetic. Truly pathetic. But since he wasn’t obliging her on giving her the cold, hard truth, she wanted to hear it again. Just hear it. Then she'd go.
"Didn't we already cover this?"
No, they hadn’t and they both knew it. He'd done everything he could not to answer any of her questions, and she couldn't help the feeling that it was because there was no good truth to lie to her with.
"Say you want me," she repeated.
"I don’t think you want to go down that—"
"Say it! Or admit you lied. It has to be one of those things, Malfoy."
He sighed, once more letting his head fall back with weariness. "Of course I want you."
"If you’re going to choose that option, at least say it like you mean it."
He looked at her for far too long before answering, making her nervous about what he was thinking. Why was she even doing this to herself? Maybe getting over her confusion wasn’t worth the inevitable blows to her already weak self-esteem. When he did reply, he didn't break eye contact. "Ask anyone with eyes whether I mean it, Granger. You're probably the only one left who hasn't noticed. I don’t think you appreciate how hard it is never to act on an attraction this strong."
"You did act on it." Although he’d made it fairly clear at the time that he’d simply used her, but those were details, right?
"How could any mortal man resist you that night?"
"So it was the robes." It was really too bad she couldn’t keep them now. She’d finally found a legitimate use for them. Whenever she needed to feel like she was more than a brain on legs, she could put them on and be wanted beyond reason by the most unlikely of men. True, it hadn't thrilled her that night when it had made Draco use her and Ron lose his head, but maybe that was the only way she could get that feeling she craved so much.
Then again, maybe it would be better if that never happened again. The dismissal afterwards had been almost more than she could handle.
"It was you looking more beautiful than any witch has any right to," he quietly said. "I succumbed. I thought downplaying it would make it easier for you to disregard what happened."
Easier? Easier? Bollocks. He couldn’t honestly believe that. She certainly couldn't. "Do you have any idea how confusing it's been?" Not to mention hurtful. In fact, she really shouldn’t mention how hurtful it had been.
"Why would you even care if I want you or not? It's not me you need to focus on."
"I just want to be wanted," she said, taking a few steps towards him. "Is that really so awful?"
"Have this conversation with Potter."
Slowly an expression of understanding that she didn't like spread across his features. "Ah. I see."
He clearly didn’t. "What do you see?"
"It's the thrill, isn't it? You don't get the same new, exciting sexual thrill from him because you know him too well, and you feel like you're missing out on it."
She cocked her head, marvelling at his talent for thinking up explanations that involved Harry. "And if that's it?"
"The thrill always eventually dies, Chubs. Don't throw away a good thing for something as fleeting as sex."
"Don't call me Chubs."
"But I like calling you Chubs."
She shook her head. "Don't tell me you want me and then insult me. You can't do that."
"It's not meant as an insult. It's... silly."
"It's not silly. It’s insulting. Patronising." And hurtful.
She really needed to work on not letting Malfoy hurt her.
"It is silly. I want you. Potter wants you. As far as I can tell from that picture in the newspaper, Weasley still wants you as well. There are probably others that you never even noticed because you were too busy thinking they couldn't possibly ever look at you."
"Prove that I’m wanted." The words just sort of slipped out before she could stop them. Immediately, she wished they hadn’t. They were far too vulnerable.
"I can never win," he whispered. "Come here." He reached a hand out towards her.
At first she was confused as to why he didn’t even get out of the chair, but then she remembered the obvious and noticed the shadows under his eyes. He was having one of his fatigued days. What was she doing, badgering him to prove something so stupid to her when he was in such a poor condition? She really ought to snap out of it.
He let his hand drop. "You’d forgotten, hadn’t you?"
Yes, she had, but only for a minute. She shook her head. "I didn’t mean to..."
"It’s fine. Just leave." He looked away again.
She stared at him, flabbergasted. Why was he suddenly so dismissive? Did he really think she was shallow enough to not want him because of his physical condition? "What?"
"I gave you your ego boost. You don't have to follow through." He didn't as much as look in her direction whilst saying this. Instead he pretended to return to his work, but she could see he wasn't really reading his parchments. He merely stared stiffly at one specific spot.
"But I don't want to put you in a coma again..." Wasn't that what he'd said had happened last time? He'd said he'd strained himself so much he'd had to drug himself, for crying out loud!
He shook his head. "No need to make excuses, Chubs. You forgot. Sometimes even I forget. I appreciate the honesty."
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortable and defensive. "What was it you said? 'I can never win'? Seems I can't either. Why not simply say no if you're not feeling well?"
"You asked me to prove that I wanted you."
She felt rotten for selfishly trying to pressure him into something he might not want to do simply so she could feel better. "You should've reminded me that you can't always cater to my whims."
"Why would I do that?"
She stared at him, uncomprehending, as she tried to make sense of his question.
He finally looked at her, his eyes bleak but his mouth twitching with dark humour. "I'll cater to your whims whenever you ask me to. You know that. You've known it since that night. That's why you're here."
If he thought he was telling the truth, that certainly didn't help her feeling of guilt. She hugged herself more closely and looked down. "You make me sound horrible."
"Then forgive me. I didn't mean to do that. I want to cater to your whims, as I think I've proven adequately, so why wouldn't you come to me? Besides, I may be a little tired, but I definitely could... cater... to you today. Done right, I doubt I'd even need potions after."
"Then what did you mean with I can never win?"
"I don’t like feeling exposed. It's never wise to let a witch know she can lead you around by the cock—especially not when she's involved with someone you loathe."
"Do you feel like I'm doing that? Leading you around by your... cock?" She crinkled her brow. It sounded so crude put like that. Crude and exploitative. Did he really see her like that? Was it because he thought she was with Harry or something more deeply rooted?
"Probably not on purpose."
"Oh." Suddenly she felt like she should leave. She’d come in here pushing for validation, but she’d never thought he’d actually feel forced to give it. In a way, she’d truly believed he’d reject her. Actually she’d hoped he would, so she could get all of this nonsense out of her head. Instead he sounded like he felt cornered into agreeing to something he didn’t really want.
The embarrassment she’d failed to feel before was finally rearing its ugly head with a vengeance.
"Yes... maybe I could use that pity shag after all," he muttered.
Hermione couldn't help but snort a laugh at his dry tone, but then she looked up and caught his eyes. The sheer need in them took her breath away and stifled her laugh. He wasn't joking. She could see the question right there in his gaze. "You're confusing me again," she whispered.
"I'm sorry. I confuse myself a little. It really would be best if you simply left." He didn't sound like he meant it.
"I should get back to work," she said.
"Yes... you probably should." But he didn't stop looking at her that way and it was causing a whole swarm of butterflies to flutter around in her belly.
The way she reacted to him honestly made no sense to her. She should avoid him like the plague. The way he kept changing his mind and talking out of both corners of his mouth was toxic to her emotional health.
She seemed to have a choice right now. Turn around and walk out the door or... what? Kiss him? Kissing seemed like such an intimate act. And maybe he didn't really want it. Maybe he simply felt compelled by her neediness. Maybe he'd even change his mind again. She nervously gnawed at her lower lip trying to make up her mind.
"I won't," he whispered.
"Won't what?" she asked.
"Turn you down."
"How did you—?"
"You're fairly transparent at times, Chubs. You looked so distressed, verging on unhappy. That's how you usually look when your insecurities get the better of you."
He knew exactly how she looked when she was insecure? That sealed it. She didn't use to have enough insecurities for a look, let alone a look that anyone would recognise. She needed to regain her courage—be the Hermione she once was.
She needed to do something outrageous and simply deal with whatever the consequences were to prove to herself that she still could.
With hands that only shook a little, she grabbed her robes and pulled them off.
"Whoa!" he said, sitting up straighter. "That’s... to the point."
She shrugged, trying to ignore the fact that she was showing off some fairly unflattering stretch marks along with everything else. If he wanted it, he got it, damn it! If he didn’t... well, no reason to go there before she had to, but she decided to believe it would all be for the better either way. It was the only way she could do this.
"Easier to do this without robes," she said, straddling his legs, careful to put the weight on her knees on either side of him, rather than on him. This chair of his was fortunately big enough for this not to be a problem at all.
"Your weight won't hurt me," he said, again reading her mind. Or, possibly, her transparent actions.
"Better safe than sorry," she muttered.
"No." He grabbed her legs and pulled at them, making her lose balance so she sat down heavily in his lap. "I'm not made of porcelain, Granger. I won't break. I don't like being treated like I should be in a protective bubble."
"Maybe if you'd tell me exactly what would cause you pain rather than lie and avoid the subject," she shot back.
"I'm not as bad off as you seem to think. I've managed to hide it from you for months, haven't I?"
"By lying and making yourself look lazy by hardly ever showing yourself, yes!"
"I am lazy. And I'm fine as long as I don't have to do acrobatics."
"Regular missionary position sex is hardly acrobatics, yet you had to go into a self-induced coma after!"
He sighed and leaned his forehead against her shoulder for but a moment, making her shiver as his warm breath brushed her neck. "I shouldn't have said that." He looked up at her. "I'd been on my feet all day, Chubs. I was running around town to get things done. I knew I shouldn’t have made it seem like it was only the sex as soon as I’d said it, but I didn’t know how else to convince you that I wasn’t about to pressure you to make it a regular thing..."
She arched an eyebrow. There were so many things wrong with this whole statement, and also... "Running around town? You couldn’t Apparate to spare yourself?"
He pursed his lips. "Do we really need to talk so much right now? Weren't we going to do something a little more... fun?"
"No. Tell me."
He arched an eyebrow right back at her and gave her underwear-clad form a lingering look. "No?"
"No. Maybe later." Right now she felt remarkably unbothered by her lack of clothing. She liked that. It made her feel... free.
He gave her bare thighs a light squeeze that reminded her of her rather absurd position, but it didn't put a dent in how comfortable she was. "All right, then," he conceded. "No, I can neither use the Floo network nor Apparate. It usually makes me vomit when I do, and the Healers don't like it when I do things that make it harder for me to keep down food. I tend to agree with them on that one. The only times I Apparate is when they send someone from St Mungo's to take me along. So... yes, I walked a lot that day."
She shook her head. Of course. That explained a lot. "To get the formal robes and the necklace."
"Among other things, yes."
"And you refuse to use a cane."
"In public, yes."
"Remind me again why your condition has to be such a big secret?"
"Because it's nobody's business." The stubborn set of his jaw invited no argument.
"Fair enough," she easily agreed.
He made a sarcastic sound. "You don't really think so."
She shook her head. "No, I actually do. Your health, your business."
"But of course I still need all the details," she couldn't help but point out. She felt like her current position at least should give her some bargaining power.
"Of course." His eyes glinted with something akin to amusement.
"At least if you want me to ride you silly."
He opened his mouth and then closed it again, swallowing. "What more do you want to know?" he then asked in a hoarse voice.
She hid a delighted grin at his reaction and grabbed the opportunity to quiz him. "Are you really recovering?"
He hesitated. She didn't like that at all.
"Mostly, yes," he hedged. "There have been a few setbacks, but aren't there always?"
"Don't use the truth to lie to me."
He shrugged but didn’t look her in the eye. "The truth is, I'm not certain. I mean, up until recently it seemed like it was all moving forward, but... basically, nobody knows."
"What happened recently?"
"It's not important." He began massaging her thighs and it was mildly distracting but nice, as she was beginning to get a little chilled and his hands were warm.
"Good. Then you'll have no problems telling me," she persevered.
"It'll completely kill the mood... We don't want that, do we?" he muttered, gazing out at her from under heavy eyelids.
She wasn't going to fall for that attempt at manipulation. Not even if his hands were moving up her hips, bringing delicious electricity with them.
"Either you tell me or—"
"I'll leave." It was a weak threat, considering she'd been the one to initiate this, but it was all she had.
The brief flash of annoyance in his eyes and the way his fingers flexed around her waist told her that he was exactly as aware of this as she was. "For fuck's sake, Granger!"
"Why is it you don't want me to know this?"
"You'll make a fuss."
"Then there's something to make a fuss about!"
He was now massaging her lower back and it was really hard to keep eye contact and not give in to how nice it felt. She had to fight back a purr.
"I'm fine now," he murmured, attempting his wiles again. "No need for a fuss. Promise."
"Draco..." She wished that hadn't come out as part groan.
His hands stopped massaging her and he merely watched her quietly for a few seconds. Finally he said, "My heart stopped."
That shocked her out of the trance his hands had been putting her in and it felt like he'd shot a cold clammy hand into her chest and was squeezing hard. She had to concentrate hard on breathing to get the oxygen she needed. "What?"
"It wasn't for long. I was already at St Mungo's for tests."
"But what if you hadn't been? When was this?"
He sighed. "I knew you'd make a fuss. They gave me that—" He motioned towards a small delicate glassy ball with a swirling golden smoke inside that was presiding on the tray that was currently his makeshift desk. "—and if I feel any of the warning signs again, I'm to break it and they will immediately come and get me. I'm as safe as I can be under the circumstances."
"And when was this?"
He hesitated again, but finally reluctantly answered, "Remember when I was going for a second holiday?"
"When you made it seem like you were merely extraordinarily lazy?" She punched his chest, because she couldn't keep the frustration in. "When you merely sat there and had cake before going again? Yes, damn you, I remember."
He grabbed her hand and coaxed it to open so he could entwine his fingers with hers. "Going back was only a precaution because I suddenly had some chest pains again after coming in to work. But it turned out to be nothing. I've been fine since, really."
"Stop lying to me," she whispered.
"I'm not..." He used his free hand to push back a lock of her hair. "I swear it's the truth. Some days I'm even better than fine."
The corner of his mouth drew up into a half-smile. "Days when gorgeous witches come into my office and drop their robes and promise to ride me silly come to mind."
"That happens a lot, huh?"
His half-smile turned into a full grin. "I can't complain."
"So maybe I should leave before one of them gets here?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you do that? I can't think of a single more gorgeous witch."
He was all flattery now to please her, wasn't he? She couldn’t deny it was working. She bent forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and very slowly and carefully placed her lips against the very corner of his mouth that seemed to always want to draw up at her expense. He stilled but didn’t draw back. Not exactly encouraged but not discouraged either, she gently brushed her lips against his. Feeling a grin spread under her lips, she drew back to give him a puzzled look.
"You taste sweet," he said with a slightly teasing quality to his voice.
Sweet. The cake. Immediately embarrassed, she jerked back, but he was quick to grab the back of her head and kiss her, much more thoroughly than before, his lips coaxing hers apart.
She liked the way he kissed her. He kissed her like she was still the thin, active teenager who could kick dark wizard bum and be asked out by famous Quidditch players. He kissed her like he didn't see any stretch marks or cellulite anywhere on her body. He kissed her like she was the sexiest witch alive.
And it wasn't merely the lips-on-lips part of the kiss.
It was the way his one hand held her head in place, preventing her from bolting, whilst his other hand slid back up her thigh to her waist, where he curled his hand around her side and drew her closer, into his warmth. It felt protective. Possessive. Like he didn't want to let go. And she could definitely feel the effect this kiss already had on him from where she was sitting.
She told herself that the warmth that rushed through her was simply from feeling wanted. Physically. Nothing else.
"Problem..." he murmured against her lips. "If you really want more than kissing, my robes are in the way."
It was true. She'd have to get off him and he'd have to get up to get rid of his robes. At least if they used the conventional way. She drew back her head and narrowed her eyes at the robes. They were a rather fanciful kind with buttons all the way down the front.
"Would be quicker if I got up," he said, doing that annoying thing again where he guessed her thoughts.
She pursed her lips in amusement. "I don't think it's ever good to assume that quicker is better when it comes to sex," she couldn’t help but say.
Then she set out to open his robes, one button at a time. And with each reveal of skin, she had to explore a bit with her fingers, lips and tongue against his smooth, warm skin.
By the time she reached his stomach, he was trembling, but otherwise neither moving nor saying anything. She'd have preferred it if he'd once more told her pretty things, but she supposed the trembling spoke volumes on its own.
He wanted her and that was all she needed. That was the reason she was here; he’d been right about that.
She kissed the warm, taut skin of his belly and let her fingers run up and down his ribs, delving in at the far too pronounced intercostal gaps. "You really do need more cake," she murmured, feeling her lips vibrate against his skin.
He laughed. It was a rather choked sound. "I'd love to have more cake but sweets make me nauseous."
She looked up. "Really?"
He made a small nod. "I have a long list of foods that I can't currently handle, but it used to be longer. Believe it or not, I even used to be thinner."
"Hmm." She opened a few more buttons whilst considering that, moving down his frame to accommodate her endeavour. She couldn't even begin to fathom how badly off Malfoy had been, but at least he really did seem to be getting better. That was good. She didn't want to consider the implications of anything else.
"Hey!" he muttered, smoothing her hair back from her face. "If you're going to think about my body right now, I'd prefer those thoughts to be a little less serious and a little more fun."
"Sorry," she replied, realising she was running out of buttons. What next? She bit her lip, considering. "Underwear off!" she then demanded.
He grinned. "I'd love to, but there's this witch on me..." he said. She obliged his complaint by standing up and he groaned. "I didn't mean it like that! Come back!"
"Underwear first. And shoes and socks too, just for good measure."
He obliged her and pushed down his underwear with one swift motion, kicking it the rest of the way off. Shoes and socks went off without him even using his hands. Talk about perfecting the art of not getting up. "Now get back here, pretty witch," he said.
She looked him over, biting her lip again. Skinny or not, she liked looking at his body. Especially one thing stood out, so to speak.
He held out his hand to her, but she ignored it, kneeling down next to his thigh. Oh, yes. Even upon closer inspection, everything looked... appetising.
"The floor is cold, Granger..."
It actually was a bit chilly, but not cold enough for Hermione to let it interfere with her immediate plans. Ignoring his weak objections, she grabbed his shaft and lowered her head, taking a lot of pleasure in how his entire body stiffened and he hissed when her lips touched his glans.
She'd figured he might like that.
Besides, it felt nice to feel like she could draw out and control his need. She opened up her mouth to take him in and she felt more than saw him letting his head fall back on a sigh. She began massaging him with her hand and mouth, giving in to the sheer feel of the situation. The coolness and the hardness of the floor didn't matter. All that mattered was that she had the power to make him squirm, the power to make him lose control.
The power to make him want her so much he couldn't hold back.
It actually didn't take that long for him to begin to lose control. His breath became erratic and he quite suddenly sat up, attempting to stop her.
She wasn't about to leave this unfinished, though.
"Enough, Granger. Enngh... I..." His breath caught before he soldiered on through gritted teeth. "I have no stamina for this. Feels too good. Been too long."
She chuckled around him. Yeah, she could feel that. She could also feel the way he was suddenly gasping and grabbing on to her shoulder and neck, urging her on.
He'd reached the point of no return. She could feel it in the way his fingers dug in and the way he couldn’t help but thrust against her.
She didn't mind. As long as she kept her hand in place he wasn't going to hurt her even if he completely lost it. She felt him stiffening, tensing, and then he made a desperate sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a growl as the warm, tangy liquid hit the back of her mouth.
She kept massaging him until he relaxed, and then she casually reached for her wand to clean up a bit. Since she hadn't exactly brought a toothbrush, spells would have to do.
"Damn it, Granger..." he said, sounding drained. "Why didn't you let me stop you?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to tell me that you didn't enjoy that?"
"It's going to be hard for me to reciprocate that here. I don't kneel well and when it comes to second rounds, I'm afraid I take a little longer than your average wizard to get ready for those these days."
"Who talked about reciprocation?"
He looked over her underwear-clad form as if to say, Then why get undressed? and said, "Come spend the night with me tonight. After work. Don’t go home, come straight to me. I’ll make it worth your while."
Spend the night? With Draco? In his bed?
It was tempting, very tempting. She could simply go home with him and he’d do everything she’d been wanting him to do to her. She knew without a doubt that he would. But then, what would happen after? Would he kick her out? Dismiss her like he had last time?
Would it still be worth it?
When she realised she was actually considering it, Hermione knew she was in deep trouble.