fever dreaming

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/39845469.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley,
Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley,
Theodore Nott, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Friends to Lovers,
Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Idiots in Love, Explicit
Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Knotting, Enthusiastic Consent,
Bodyguard, Auror Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Possessive
Draco Malfoy, Jealousy, Draco Malfoy Has a Large Cock, Multiple
Orgasms, Love Confessions
Language: English
Collections: TDH Harry Potter EU, Best of DMHG, Dermione I like to remember,
dramione that is necessary for My Existence, Dramione_Favs, Alysoun
Has Read These, DH for a (not so) light read, lit rally rail me pls,
Dramioneotp, Dramione that makes me question my whole existence
Stats: Published: 2022-06-25 Completed: 2022-07-13 Words: 15,286 Chapters:
4/4
 fever dreaming
by mrsren

Summary

It made sense that he was so large, given his designation. It made sense that she was so small,
given her own.

It made sense that she couldn't stop thinking about him. It was biology, after all.

Or, it definitely wasn't biology.

Translation into Português brasileiro available: Fever dreaming | Tradução by moonletterss

 oh, i've got it bad
Chapter Notes

Since I finished my best friend's brother yesterday, here I am. This is a new mini-fic. By
mini, I mean that it is four chapters long, and is 15k. It will update on Saturdays until
completion.

Beta love to my forever friend, WordsmithMusings. But thank you VERY much to
december_noon for prereading it right after I completed it.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It made sense that he was so large, given his designation. It made sense that she was so small,
given her own.

It didn’t make it any easier to look at him. The sight of him, broad shoulders and always,
always , smirking left Hermione reeling. He created an itch, burrowing under her skin just by
looking at her. Had they kept their icy distance post-war, Malfoy would have never become
her dilemma.

The problem was that Malfoy had enlisted as an Auror. Hermione didn’t know why; she
didn’t need to know what fueled his decisions. The bigger problem, her friends had grown to
like him. Ron and Malfoy still feuded, but the animosity was gone. Pub nights had shifted to
include more people. Ron hit it off with Pansy. Hermione walked into the wrong bathroom to
find Harry pressed to the counter by Theo more than once.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Well,” Theo grinned. “I’m going to fuck Potter. You know what sex is, don’t you?”

Her mouth dropped open. Both of her friends with Slytherins—who they had loathed for years
. What was happening?

“Hermione,” Harry said gently. “Look, we can talk about this later, but I don’t think we have
this kind of friendship. So, if you could stop staring.”

Her hands flew to cover her face. “Oh, God. Oh, my fucking God. You’ve all lost it.”

“You can watch if you want.” Theo shrugged. He moved for Harry’s belt, and she shrieked.

She turned on her heel and ran into an irritated blonde right outside. He arched his brow.
“Wrong bathroom. Why is your face so red?”

“Your friend is fucking my friend in the loo.” Hermione ground out.

He blinked. “You’ll need to be more specific. Both of your friends are fucking my friends.”
There was liquor on his breath, and he smirked then. It unnerved her, it might unravel her if
she didn’t look away. “You know, they’re expecting us to shag. Full circle and all that.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Gross. No, thank you.”

Malfoy’s laugh followed her to the exit.

In the two years and some months to pass, both couples had stuck it out. Hermione only
wanted to be happy for her friends, though it would be so much easier if she stopped walking
in on them. They just— Fucking hell, they shagged everywhere.

She knew him as Draco now. She recognized his ticks and his habits. She’d watched him
throughout that time against better judgment.

So, she saw Malfoy more. At the very least, the exposure should have helped her be less
affected by him. Surely, the smiles and the cut of his jaw would lose their appeal. It had the
opposite effect; he knew exactly what witches thought when they saw him. In an effort to
hide, Hermione settled on rudeness. He thought she was shrill? Good. He thought her to be a
menace? Well, so fucking be it.

It was better than the alternative—him realizing that she watched him.

She lingered on his fingers, committing the rings he wore to memory. His hands were large.
Malfoy had filled out after the war, after that awful year where every single one of them was
malnourished. Perhaps it was mainly because of his presenting. Factually, Alphas were
always larger. He just happened to be the largest man she knew. Still taller than Ron, broad-
shouldered, Malfoy made a dangerous auror with his size.

The fact that she was an Omega was driven home every time she stood next to him. He
towered over her. He could probably pick her up with one hand— not that she’s imagined
that. His hand would cover the span of her chest.

She knew because he’d steadied her once on the stairs, palm warm against her back, and she
hated it.

It’d be easier to hate him, yet here she was, besotted with him.

They saw each other nearly every day at the Ministry. He would swing by her office and
rummage through the drawer where she kept treats.

“You could buy your own.”

“They taste better when I steal them from you.”

She saw him every weekend, and with every pub night, their friends would leave them.Alone.
Together. Ron would twirl his girlfriend with a grin on his face. Theo would get a bit handsy
with Harry under the table.
Hermione tossed back drinks in an effort to ignore the warmth of Malfoy’s too-large thigh
against hers. Broom thighs, Ginny said. No, she’d seen broom thighs, and he wasn’t it.

Sometimes though, in the dull roar of the pub, Hermione would catch him looking at her.
Always when Malfoy thought she wasn’t looking. His grip would tighten on his glass. He’d
swallow just a bit harder. Hermione had never let herself wonder about it.

She’d get her hopes up, and they would be crushed.

It’s just that…

Heats weren’t new to her, and she’d gone through a few with a partner just to get it done.
She’d had arrangements based on compatibility and convenience. Heats were painful alone.
Agonizingly hot in her tiny flat when she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

During the last one, Hermione reasoned that using her imagination was fine. Of course, it
was. And it was fine to think of someone she would never have.

It was just fine to imagine Draco fucking Malfoy between her thighs. Hand on her throat,
thumb stroking her skin. If the rest of him was any indication, she imagined he’d be large.
She had pumped her fingers in her cunt while reaching above and gripping her pillow.

All while imagining him sliding into her, stretching her cunt around his cock.

Murmuring the dirtiest fucking things.

“Look at you,” he’d whisper. “Such a good girl for me. You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you?”

She’d whine. A weak, broken, “Please!”

“I’ll take care of you,” he’d say. “Such good fucking care of my sweet little girl. You want my
cock splitting you open?”

Hermione would rake her nails down his chest, leaving marks in her wake. She’d grab for
him, press her face to the crook of his neck. “Please, Draco.”

He’d sweep her hair out of her face, pressing his mouth to her forehead. “God, you want my
fucking knot, don’t you?” Malfoy moaned, palming her breast, pinching her nipple. “God, I
want to feel you stretched around me if you can take it.”

“I can take it. I can take it.”

The next time she saw him, Hermione had left. No words. No explanation. She’d left Harry
and Malfoy both in the lurch while they held the lift open for her. Malfoy had called out her
name.

She’d taken the stairs.

Shortly after, she’d started to call him Draco.

If she was going to fantasize about him giving her the fuck of her life, it was the least she
could do.

The fact that Hermione Granger was an Omega was not a secret. Good thing, too; it would
have been an impossible one to keep.

The frustration of being at the bottom of another imposed hierarchy had dulled over the
years. It’d lost its edge after legislation had been passed to protect Omegas. Legislation that
Hermione had been a core part of. The penalty for taking anyone against their will was steep,
and Hermione knew that, but it wasn’t even the first thing she worried about.

She kept the mating gland covered at all times.

One bite. Just one, and Hermionecould be shackled to someone forever. She was quicker with
a wand than most, given the year on the run, but even she had to admit her physical strength
was lacking. She’d feared being caught on the way home, shoved into a wall. She’d learned
to make herself even smaller in a space when she was without the safety net a group
provided.

Just knowing it kept her on the edge of worry continuously.

In public, she always cast a shield charm on herself before going into a crowd. At the root of
it all, it didn’t hurt to be too cautious. She’d read the horror stories, the impossibly
devastating stories that made their way all the way to the Wizengamot. The truth of it though
— even if an Alpha was sentenced to a hefty punishment in Azkaban, the Omega would still
suffer. They would live in torment. There wouldn’t be a chance to choose their own mate,
because there was an imprint of someone’s teeth buried in their skin that would never heal.

Hermione could vaguely imagine the devastation, but she couldn’t grasp it. Not with her own
two hands, not without experiencing the complete loss of bodily autonomy.

Maybe Omegas weren’t treated as lessers, but they were prized.

Prizes that were coveted in certain circles.

Her friends knew why there was a slight tremor of magic when they went in public. They
knew, and didn’t ask questions.

Parkinson understood. Her mother had been an Omega.

Nott understood it personally.

And no one has ever bothered to ask why Hermione would always drop her shield if Malfoy
were there. Hermione didn’t think she could explain it.

It wasn’t only because it was biology—her body registering that this one, this one , could
keep her safe.

She trusted him.

Although he had starred in several explicit fantasies in her head, Hermione implicitly trusted
Draco. Malfoy had been the one to throw a wizard off of her once. It’d been a mistake to
leave the shield down on the way to the loo, and she felt fingers swipe across the gland.

Honestly, the wizard hadn’t been able to touch her twice before Draco came barrelling down
on him.

His instincts were possessive, Hermione knew. She’d watched him take a man to the floor
with only his fists and the weight of his knee in the wizard’s chest.

She’d been embarrassingly wet.

So, they were friends. Good friends. One of them just happened to want to shag the other.

That was nothing.

It was one letter at first. Just the one, with greasy fingerprints on the parchment and ink drops
that resembled blood. The letter had been full of threats, vulgar language. Insisting that she
needed to be put in her place—her knees. She should be swollen with pregnancy by now, not
in the Ministry. Hermione set it on fire. She didn’t tell anyone, didn’t explain when Draco
walked into her smoky office with an arched brow. He’d been there for treats.

She recognized the handwriting two days later. Another. It reeked of foul breath. She didn’t
read it. Hermione shredded it.

Weeks passed and hardly a day went by without another letter.

The threats were escalating, and when she opened a letter to find a fully written account of
her interactions for the last week, Hermione knew she was in trouble.

The words themselves weren’t frightening. Not at first. It was simple thoughts: I’m going to
find you. I’m going to take you. I’m going to sink into you.

But then the author said he wanted to hear her scream. Wanted to make her scream, and if she
didn’t, he’d make her.

I just want to taste your pain.

Hermione threw up in the bin to the side of her desk.

Later that day, Hermione stepped in the DMLE and went straight to Harry’s shared office.
Only, her friend wasn’t there.

Draco glanced up at her, hair perfectly in place, and he frowned.

Her legs were shaking.

The parchment crumpled in her hand.

“Granger, are you alright?” Draco knocked his chair back as he stood, coming directly to her.
“Hey.” He snapped his fingers, right in front of her face. “Fucking hell, you look like you’ve
lost it.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, was he?

His voice softened. “Hermione, I’m going to need you to talk to me now.”

“Where is Harry?”

“Out to lunch with Theo.”

She jerked a nod. “Right. I’ll come back then.” Hermione turned, and Draco wound an arm
around her waist. “Let me go.”

“Not a chance, Granger. You need to take a seat.” He didn’t even chuckle when she wiggled
in his hold. “Usually, I’d entertain the idea that you’re going to win, but not today. Sit down ,
Hermione.” His voice hardened, taking a tone that made her weak in the knees and palms
sweat. Draco steered her to the sofa, guiding her down. Draco didn’t let go of her once.
“Look, you look like shit.”

Hermione hiccuped. “Thanks. You’re so good with witches.”

The corner of his mouth didn’t twitch. He didn’t dryly comment that yes, he was very good
with witches.

There was no way to play this off as nothing.

“I’d really rather talk to Harry.”

Draco tapped his fingers against her knee. “You can do that, but you’ll have to wait here with
me.”

“There’s no reason I can’t return to my office.” God, she was terrified to be alone. “Draco,
just let me go. I promise I’ll tell you after I talk to him.”

He squeezed her knee. “It’s not going to happen, sweetheart.”

If this were a normal day, her stomach would have turned at the endearment. It would have
made color spring into her cheeks. And he had to know that.

Reaching for the parchment, Draco gently uncurled her fingers. “You had two more steps
before your legs gave out, Granger. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

She fought to keep the letter from him. “I promise—” Hermione’s voice broke. “I promise
that you do not want to read that.”

He blinked. Draco tilted her chin up, and the cool metal of his rings met her skin. “You’re
crying.” His voice was deadpan. He’d gone alarmingly still. “Did someone hurt you?
Granger, I will fucking—”
“No,” she shook her head. “Someone wants to, though.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her
sleeves, Hermione nodded to the letter in his hand. “I’ve been getting letters for the last
month. They started like any of the other threats I’ve received. Horrifying, but I thought they
would be nothing. I didn’t want to involve anyone, but I’m so fucking stupid.”

Hermione curled in on herself and buried her face in her hands. It wasn’t enough to muffle
the sobs.

He pulled her forward, tucking her head beneath his chin while he presumably unfolded the
letter.

She felt his breath catch, and then she felt how his chest didn’t cave in on another.

“Hermione,” his tone was deadly low. The same voice as the one he’d murmured are you
alright when a wizard in a pub accosted her. This was so much worse though. “This has been
going on for a month?”

When she nodded, he crushed her to his chest.

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” His voice had gone ragged, and Hermione sniffled against his
uniform. “Hermione, fuck .”

She curled her fingers in his robes. “I wanted to tell Harry.”

“Any particular reason you were so against telling me ?” She heard the hurt.

It cut her.

“You’d want to protect me.” She mumbled. “Like in the pubs, you’re always watching me
now because—”

“Because some fucking prick put his hands on you, Granger. And I’ll be the first one to tell
you, if I get my hands on this asshole, his life is forfeit.”

She shuddered.

Draco rubbed slow circles over her back, fingers slowly sliding up her spine. “You should
have told us sooner. Fuck it, you should have come to me right when it happened.”

To admit that he was right would mean they were teetering dangerously on admitting
something she already knew. She was besotted with him. Thought of him every night, and
she’d built him up in her mind as this impossible thing she could never have. Draco had to
know.

He was observant.

Constantly avoiding being alone with him would tip him off.

“We’re friends, you know.” He whispered. Draco twisted a curl around his finger. “Granger, I
care about you. You do realize that, right?”
But I don’t want to be friends with you.

I want to come home to you.

What if you were the first thing I saw when I woke up each morning?

If she didn’t put some distance between them, Hermione would say something she’d regret.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Best of friends.” Sarcasm hung heavy in the air.

He didn’t comment on it.

“I don’t care how you feel about this; it’s for your own good.” Draco pulled back, and rested
on his haunches. “Until this bastard is in my custody, I’m staying with you.”

Hermione swallowed. Her throat bobbed. Fuck her, she’d rather deal with the threats herself.
She couldn’t stay around him for long if she was going to maintain this facade. “Let another
auror do it.”

Surprise flickered across his face, closely followed by hurt. “No.”

She curled her hands into fists. “You have better things to do.”

“No,” he hissed. “I can assure you I do not.”

The door cracked open, and it was how Harry found her with tears streaked down her face.
Once more, Hermione hung her head. She muttered, “Show him the letter.”

When Draco finally pulled away from her fully, it felt as though she’d lost a vital part of
herself. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to feel this way about him, and there was nothing she
could do about it.

Harry didn’t handle the news well. He swiped a lamp off his desk, sending it crashing to the
floor. “Hermione.” His voice was a warning. “You need to take a leave of absence until we
catch him.”

She shook her head.

“Are you an idiot?” Draco snapped, but she saw his recoil at her flinch. “Granger, you can’t
work through this.”

“I’ll assure you I’m not going to sit at home and let you babysit me.” Hermione straightened
her skirt as she stood. “The upcoming gala is one of the best opportunities to find funding for
my projects, and if I miss it, there won’t be another chance like this for a year. If you think
this will stop me, you very clearly don’t know me at all.”

It didn’t matter that Draco stood more than a foot over her when they both stood. She went
toe to toe with him anyway, craning her neck and glaring while he leaned down. If she wasn’t
hot with irritation, it’d be comical.

“It’s just until we find him.”

“That could take weeks. I’m not letting someone else go in my place!”

He gripped her chin roughly, and Harry cleared his throat. Harry went ignored.

“If you just let me do my job—”

Hermione looked away from him, ripping her chin from his grasp and stared directly at
Harry. “I don’t want him as my Auror.” She snarled. Her hair crackled. “Either you get
another Auror assigned, or I will go to Robards myself.”

Draco clenched his jaw.

“’Mione, I really don’t think there’s anyone better than Malfoy in this situation.” Harry’s eyes
flicked between the two of them. “And if you’re planning to go in public—which is an awful
idea—then he has to go with you. Robards will take my advice over yours.” Her friend had
turned against her without realizing it. “Hermione, he’s the only one I trust.”

“You could do it.” Hermione pressed her foot to a wrinkle in the carpet. Draco’s arm was
warm against her own. “Harry?”

Her friend looked at her knowingly, and the pity there caused her to crack. “Malfoy, get out.”

“Like hell—”

Harry’s eyes flashed. “Get out .” The door slammed shut behind Draco, and Hermione reeled
back. “Hermione, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” Of course he knew.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “He’s acting like a possessive asshole. Look, he’s an Alpha
but he’s not mine.”

Harry laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

This was the last thing she needed. It’d lead to confusion and hurt feelings. If there was one
thing she could be good at it—the best at—it would be self-preservation. Draco Malfoy
would leave her in ribbons if she let him in. It’d be a rush. Tangled limbs and broken moans.
Hearing her name on his tongue in a way she’d never be able to drive out. And it would come
to an end.

She’d be worse off for it.

“Hermione,” Harry said gently. “He hasn’t figured it out yet, but he’s going to. Don’t you
think it would be better to face it head on?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look, he almost killed that guy in the pub.”

Hermione chewed her thumbnail. “He’s my friend.”

“Try again, Hermione.”

 “He’s a good person.”

“No, he isn’t.” Harry said. “He’s an alright bloke. I trust him at my back, but he never takes
his eyes off of you. If you’re in the room, he’s watching. If you drop that shield of yours, his
hand is on his wand. Hermione, I think you’re probably the first thing that goes through his
mind in the morning and the last thing he thinks of at night.”

Her eyes watered. “Stop it. Just stop, Harry.”

Harry pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I’ll always support your decisions, ‘Mione. All of
this is going to come out though. You’ve gotta know that.”

It wouldn’t.

She’d gotten good at hiding her feelings from Draco. She could manage it.

Chapter End Notes

Next update will be July 2nd. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear what you think.
 near the boiling point
Chapter Notes

Technically updating the day before the schedule by an hour in my time zone, but I'm
probably not going to be online much tomorrow. Thank you so much for the kudos,
comments, bookmarks, and views on another new fic of mine. :)

Any mistakes are my own, but if you see anything embarrassing, please feel free to let
me know. I also wanted to say that this fic doesn't go much into the stalker. The capture
happens off screen. While this is a semi-spoiler, I would rather be upfront so readers can
decide if it's for them. I should have said this in chapter one. I'm sorry.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Draco took the guest room. His scent was everywhere. Strong. Heady. The smell of cedar,
and an expensive cologne she wanted to spray on her clothes.

If she wanted to, Hermione could pretend this was something else.

She could pretend that when they brushed their teeth in the morning, it was because they’d
woken up together. It was such a pretty lie.

Hermione couldn’t meet his eyes in the mornings though. She kept her gaze firmly on the
ground.

Sleep didn’t come easily for him. It hadn’t since his sixth year. She knew because they’ve had
many hushed conversations while their friends ignored them. If he wasn’t sleeping though, he
might know just what she got up to at night behind her locked door.

Did he know she rode her fingers while covering her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out? He had
to.

More than once he’d caught her in the kitchen afterward. It was because she couldn’t sleep,
but beneath her small shorts, her cunt was slick. He’d be able to scent her.

Judging by the way he clenched his jaw, and gripped the counter, Draco knew.

It would be a dangerous game to play, and an even riskier boundary to push.

Hermione swallowed her suppressant, and Draco paused on the other side of the counter.
Naturally he recognized that it wasn’t the standard potion. “Granger?”
She hummed, and tipped her head back, swallowing the vial in one go. “I’m due for my
heat,” Hermione said. “I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to let it happen right now. Given the
fact that you’re here, and well, everything else.”

His nostrils flared. “Right.” Draco turned away from her, and she caught the way his hand
shook as he lifted his mug. “Do I need to be worried about someone else being here if…”

If the potion didn’t work, he meant.

That was impossible though. The potion always worked. It might only stave off the inevitable
for a week at the most, but it worked. Yet he’d asked her anyway.

She wanted to see how worked up he got if she said that yes, there would be someone. She
would be in her room with another man, but it was a game too juvenile for her to play.

“No,” she said instead. “I’ve gone through my heats alone.”

Draco’s fingers tightened around the handle. “For how long?” There was no reason for him to
know.

“I haven’t had a partner in a year.” Hermione sat on the barstool, choosing to look away from
him because she was wading into uncharted waters. She had no idea where this would go. “It
wasn’t so good the last time.”

He bristled.

“It’s nothing like that. Calm down.” Hermione giggled. “It was a mistake, that’s all. I decided
that unless I have a serious partner, and someone I could trust, I would be better off alone.”
She stole a peek at him. Clenched jaw. God, he was a terror for his teeth. “Are you going to
ask who it was?”

“It’s probably best I don’t know.” His words weren’t friendly. They were jealous. “It hurts
though, doesn’t it?”

She choked on her coffee. “You already know it hurts me, Draco. It hurts every Omega.
Fingers and toys aren’t enough.”

His groan was low, but not nearly low enough.

He lounged in the seat across from her desk, tossing a stress ball back and forth. As it had
turned out, Harry had kicked Draco off the actual search, and now she really had his full
attention.

“Are you alright?”

Hermione stopped writing. “What?”

He pointed a finger at her. “You keep wiggling in your seat, and you’re flushed. Are you sure
your potion worked?”
The potion had worked.

However, she watched Draco lean back in his chair with his legs spread. The chair was nearly
too small for him. Despite her attempts to work, she found herself more focused on his hands
instead.

She thought about sitting in his lap and letting him push her skirt up.

No, she wasn’t alright.

Her stomach was in knots, and she was wet. No doubt he knew it too.

Draco smiled.

What a fucking prick.

On Friday, they missed their weekly pub night. Hermione curled up in a window with a book.
She also ignored his protests that she shouldn’t be near windows. When it was clear he
wouldn’t pull her away, he sat on the floor beside her.

Without thinking, Hermione reached down and slid her fingers into his hair. Mortifying it
might have been, but it had been instinct.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hermione flushed, and pulled her hand back.

Draco’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Don’t stop.”

He fell asleep with his head against her hip, and thought that now she was well and truly
fucked.

The line between friendship and more had been smudged. Over the week, Hermione began to
believe she would come out of this unscathed less and less. Each time he looked at her, she
wanted to blurt the truth. She wanted to go to him even if it would only be the one time.

Draco wouldn’t turn her away.

If she knocked on his bedroom door right now, he’d let her in. Hermione imagined he’d tilt
her head up as he’s done before, and his mouth would brush hers. They’d stumble to the bed.

Her clothes would be ripped.

Physically, they were a good fit, but emotionally, they would burn.

She couldn’t ruin a years long friendship for a single fuck. Draco would eventually find a
witch to settle with, and if she knew what he was like, it would rip Hermione in half.

Secluded in her bedroom, Hermione sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed while biting
her nails. They were already torn and jagged. If she carried on, she’d draw blood.
“Fuck.” Draco groaned, and the sound was so clear on the other side of the wall. She
stiffened, heat pooling in her stomach, and Hermione barely resisted the urge to press her ear
to the wall. “Goddamnit it.”

Though she couldn’t see him, Hermione would recognize that sort of groan anywhere. The
breathlessness of it.

With just one wall separating them, Draco had his fingers wrapped around his cock. She
imagined him slowly pumping, taking his time to stroke himself, and Hermione settled back
against her pillows.

She spread her legs, her feet digging into the mattress, and she lightly touched her cunt
through the thin scrap of fabric.

The only sound between them was the softest sounds, and even though she knew she would
avoid this in the morning—to pretend it had never happened—Hermione let herself have this
moment. It was the closest she’d ever come to truly having him.

She considered going to him as she slid two fingers into her cunt.

What if he came to her?

If Draco knocked on her door, she wouldn’t be able to push him away, but he didn’t come to
her room.

She heard him anyway. Heard the broken, “Fuck, I need you.”

Hermione didn’t reply. Her fingers quickened.

“Granger, fuck—”

When his voice broke, Hermione didn’t cover her mouth. She cried out, loudly, and rode her
fingers.

Silence surrounded them.

Should she apologize? This was a line crossed.

God, how was she going to manage this confrontation in the morning?

As it turned out, there wasn’t time to talk about their late night activities. Hermione met him
in the kitchen just before sunrise. His eyes were dark, his gaze heavy lidded, and Draco came
straight to her. He crowded her against the counter, holding her hips.

“Granger,” his voice had a low timbre. “You are a vicious, little minx.”

She held up a letter weakly. “I—” This could wait. She should handle this now, but she was
more of a coward than she let on. “We’re going to have an early day. There’s a crisis. With
the event.”
He scanned the letter, eyes narrowing, features growing more pinched. “Granger.” He said
quietly. “I need you to tell me if I’ve got this wrong.”

Hermione swallowed. She fidgeted with the edge of his uniform, focusing on the brass
buttons. “It’s not a good idea.”

Slowly, he nodded. “You’re right.”

Two words leveled her; it was all it took. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, and kept her
eyes on the floor as they began to water. “We’re good friends.” Hermione whispered. “I don’t
want to ruin that.”

Sighing, he sank his fingers into her hair and drew her close. “Granger, I’d ruin our
friendship for a chance with you.”

She stilled.

“I’m just not the sort of bloke that gets to have you.”

Anger lit in her stomach. “You don’t get to decide that. Only I get to decide who deserves me,
Draco and you’re a good man. The best I know.”

In the moment she realized he might feel more for her than she’d given him credit for, Draco
also turned her down. He’d turned her away.

His lips brushed her hair softly. “Not nearly good enough for a witch like you.” There was a
moment of silence. “We should go. You’ve got a crisis at the Ministry.”

Hermione couldn’t muster any guilt for losing Draco while between floors of the Ministry.
She was hurt—angry. If it painted her as a petulant child for a short while, then fine. She was
due for her own moment of self-pity.

She went to pick up her dress robes alone. Diagon Alley had been a safe place with her shield
charm in place, and being wary of each step. Was it still a bad idea? Of course it was, but
Hermione would take her chances with a stalker before she looked at Draco right now.

Before he found her, it was a peaceful moment to herself, but it didn’t take him long to find
her.

She just hadn’t expected him to storm into her dressing room while she stepped out of her
dress.

Draco’s hand flew to cover his eyes. “Fucking— What are you doing?”

“I’m getting dressed.”

He turned toward the wall, and leaned his head against it. “What were you thinking? You
know there’s someone after you and you just…”
Hermione didn’t move for her clothes. She stood in her knickers and bra, and didn’t move.
“I’m not pleased with you, currently.”

Draco peeked over his shoulder, and groaned. “Merlin, can you put your clothes on?”

“It shouldn’t bother you.” Hermione shrugged. “You’ve already made it clear that you’re not
interested. Besides, it’s not worse than a swimsuit.”

He rasped, “I never said I didn’t want you, Granger.”

“Right.” She huffed. “You just told me some shit about not deserving me. Draco, I’m a grown
woman. I don’t need you to protect my feelings. If you’re not interested, then say it.”

His hand curled into a fist. He knocked his forehead against the wall. “God, you’re
merciless.”

“So I’ve been told. Now get out.”

“Granger—”

Hermione grabbed him by the back of his robes and forced him out. “I don’t want to look at
you. Get out.”

The trip back to the Ministry was a silent one.

“Do you want to tell me why Malfoy looks like you kicked his puppy?” Harry dropped a
stack of files on her desk. He eyed her warily while she put on a pair of earrings, her body
angled toward the mirror in her office.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Malfoy would never have a puppy.”

Harry stressed, “Hermione. What happened?”

“Well,” she muttered angrily. “I tried to have that conversation you wanted me to, but he told
me he didn’t deserve me.”

“No one deserves you.”

“Spare me the protective older brother routine, Harry. For one, I’m older. For two, I don’t
need anyone to protect me.”

Sighing, Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Most blokes are rather dim when it comes to
witches. Despite being charming, Malfoy’s no different. You know he’s never forgiven
himself for Bellatrix, and you know he’d spend all his time apologizing for it.”

When they were drunk, when it was only her and Malfoy, he traced the scar on her arm, and
apologized repeatedly.
“I’ve forgiven him. If he doesn’t want to forgive himself, then…” Great, her eyes were
watering again. “I think it was clear that I wanted to be with him even though I was scared.
And I am fucking terrified, Harry. If he can’t let go of his own fear to give it a go, then I can’t
help that.”

She stepped back to get a proper look in the mirror.

“Harry?” she asked.

The sound of someone clearing their throat definitely wasn’t Harry. She whirled around.

Draco croaked, “Not Harry. You look stunning.”

Harry Potter might have been the Boy Who Lived, but he wouldn’t be for long.

Ignoring Draco Malfoy was hard, but ignoring him while he was glaring at every man to look
her way—well, that was infinitely harder. He hadn’t limited himself to men either. Witches
and wizards alike found themselves on the end of a nasty look the longer they spoke with
Hermione.

Hermione might have spent longer than necessary with each conversation.

While it was true she was here to secure funding for experimentation with developmental
potions, she was just as eager to find backing in the Wizengamot. For years now, there had
been a high cost on health care, which was something everyone needed . Not everyone had
the stability to drop twenty-five galleons for life saving medication.

Not all families came from old money, and Hermione had dug her heels in when it came time
to help.

His body heat radiated around her. Tipping her head back, Hermione found Draco looking
directly at her. He’d dressed well. Wrapped in a black suit with expensive dress robes, he
didn’t look like an auror at all. Meeting familiar mercury, Hermione arched a brow. “You
need to stop glaring. You’re frightening.”

“Good,” he rumbled. She felt it in his chest. “What will it take to convince you to leave?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s another hour, or two at the most. I’m sure you’ll live.” Hermione
lifted a glass of wine from a tray that floated past. “Goldstein is already watching me. Take a
break, Draco.”

He brushed her back, his fingers finding her bare back. She should have stayed in her dress
robes. “I’ll give you all the funding you need, if you’ll just leave.”

Hermione choked on her wine. It burned in her nose, and she whirled to face him. “It’s three
hundred thousand galleons,” she muttered. “I think that’d put a dent in even your vaults.”

“I’m offended.” He leaned down, and his breath tickled her ear. “I wouldn’t even notice it
was gone.”
“You’re not giving it out of the goodness of your heart.” A witch across the room waved at
her. “If you’ll excuse me—” Draco caught her by the wrist, his thumb swiping across the
gland and her knees nearly buckled. “Draco…”

The roar of the crowd around them came to a low roar. All she could focus on was his eyes—
they were nearly black now—and how they sharpened at the sight of her. “Hermione, please.”

She thought of them earlier in the morning, how he had pinned her hips to the counter and
looked her over like he might devour her.

They should have stayed in that moment. It would have been easier than circling one another,
pretending they didn’t feel the way they did.

“Half an hour,” she conceded. “I’ll leave with you in half an hour.”

“Not a minute longer,” he warned. “Granger, I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.”

Hermione stepped backward. “Oh, you shouldn’t do that. Someone might think there are real
feelings between us.” It’d been a low blow.

Draco flinched. His shoulders tensed, and he reached for her again. “Granger, you don’t…”

“Thirty minutes,” she promised, and made her way through the crowd. Hermione couldn’t
disappear among the attendees though. Malfoy was right behind her, his face stormy and his
fingers twitching at his side.

The event was a success. It ought to have been a crowning moment, a chance to soak in the
success and revel at what she’d managed to do. It would be a slow change, but in moments
like this, she could see the end result.

Draco had been more patient than she expected. “Your time’s up.” He interrupted her. Draco
gently settled a hand on her shoulder, and attempted to steer her toward the exit. “Do you
want to test whether or not I’ll force you?”

Hermione beamed at Cassius Parkinson, who despite his reluctance, had donated a generous
sum. She’d need to thank Pansy for that. “Ignore him,” Hermione said cheerfully. “He’s just a
bit protective tonight as my assigned auror. Thank you so much for your donation.”

Cassius nodded warily. His eyes were over Hermione’s shoulder, and just a foot higher than
that. Whatever expression had taken over Draco’s face, it must not be a pleasant sight.
“You’re quite welcome. I trust I’ll receive a summary of how it was spent?”

“Of course.”

Draco’s mouth brushed the shell of her ear. His hands settled on her hips, and if he didn’t let
go of her, she was sure to react poorly. “Granger, I’ll drag you out of here by your fucking
hair.” She turned to face him, and found him just as surly as ever. “You promised me.”

A tray appeared beside her.

Hermione downed the entire glass in mere seconds, watching his face go from mild irritation
to anger at the same time. “I was only finishing my conversation. Of course we’ll go now.”

He slipped her hand into his, threading their fingers together. The edge of his mouth lifted,
and he stroked the gland, again. “I don’t want to risk you running off again.”

Hermione wanted to let go as badly as she wanted to hang on.

“You’re impossible, you know.” Draco led her into the corridor, slowing his pace as aurors
fell into formation behind them. What did their co-workers think of their combined hands?
“As stubborn as you can be when it comes to asking for help.”

She searched for her voice only to find it stuck in her throat. “Draco, I need you to—”

A fierce burn formed in the pit of her stomach, and Hermione froze mid-step. It was a
sensation she knew too well, but it wasn’t— It wasn’t possible yet. She’d taken a suppressant
that morning. She’d taken the right steps—proper precautions.

“Granger?” His brows drew together. Draco waved the aurors back.

At the end of the corridor, a large crowd had formed in front of the lift.

She ripped her hand free of his, and stumbled backward.

God, she was fucking burning .

Hermione swallowed, finding her mouth already dry. She looked herself over, not caring one
bit how she must have worried him in the process. A flush began to spread up her arms. Her
chest was surely already turning red.

“I have to get out of here.”

Malfoy nodded, clearly not understanding. “I’ll have you home in ten minutes if you’ll let
me.” She stayed in place. “Granger,” he stressed. His voice . It’d always done things to her,
but she thought of how he’d sounded the night before.

She wanted to rub himself against him and apparate on the spot.

“Come here,” Draco snapped, and he paused at her recoil. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me
what’s going on.”

Squirming, Hermione clenched her thighs together. In no time at all, she would be slick. He
would scent it.

This was the worst possible scenario she could think of.

Hermione gasped as another thought slammed into her. He wouldn’t be the problem. “I’m—”
She stammered. “Draco, I think there was something in the wine.” The last glass had tasted
odd, but she’d been so desperate to take the edge off. “The suppressant—”
He inhaled. Slowly. Deeply. Hermione doubted he was thinking at all when he came into her
space, fingers drifting toward her neck, and he groaned when his fingertips met the sensitive
flesh there. “You’ve gone into heat.”

To say this was bad would be an understatement.

“We can’t apparate.” Hermione whispered. “There are wards for security…”

He cast a long look toward the lift and gritted his teeth. “Don’t let go of me. Granger—” He
hissed her name, and tilted her chin up. “Can you stay close to me?” She nodded.

God, she already ached. “I can’t— Draco, I’m—” Hermione whimpered. “It already hurts.
God, it hurts so much.” Whatever she had been doused with, it had led her straight into the
desperation that came with her heats. “Please, I need…” She couldn’t ask.

With his eyes blown wide, Draco tucked her into his side. “I’ll take care of you, Hermione. I
swear I’m going to take such good care of you.”

But not in the way you need , her mind cried.

Aurors moved ahead of them swiftly, breaking up the crowd and casting shield charms in
layers as Draco led her into the lift. It would have been a good plan, but a wizard slipped past
them and Hermione twisted into Draco’s side.

“Don’t let him touch me.” A hand snagged in her hair. “Don’t let him touch me! ”

Hermione didn’t look, but she knew that one moment Draco had been with her, and the next
he was gone. She heard the thud—a body hitting the floor. Heard the crack—his fist driving
into the man’s nose. Heard—

“I will fucking kill you.” The wizard wiggled under Draco’s hold, but it was useless. “You
think you can touch her? Is that it?”

The wizard coughed one word. He spat blood. “Omega.”

“Not yours,” Draco warned.

If she weren’t like this, Hermione would have been the first to pull Draco back, but she was
like this and—

Merlin help her, she wanted to watch. The pulse between her legs was brutal, and she wanted
to push Draco backward. It would be so easy to crawl into his lap. He said— He promised to
take care of her. It didn’t matter that people would see.

She’d straddle his waist anyway, sink down on him.

Hermione slapped her palm against the wall, and breathed, “Draco.” His head snapped
toward her. His knuckles were raw. Bloody. It shouldn’t have softened her toward him. She
didn’t like violence. She didn’t— “Please help me.”
 He stepped over the wizard, and followed Hermione into the lift. The door slid closed, and
she tried to look away from him. She tried not to think of how badly she wanted him. He’d
told her no once, and rare moments of lucidity reminded her of that.

Draco clenched his hands at his sides, and stared at the ceiling. “Whoever did this, they must
have planned to take you.” He wouldn’t look at her. “God, Granger, if they’d had the chance
to bite you…” Why wouldn’t he look at her?

She whispered his name.

Crossed the short space between them.

He gulped.

Flattening her palms against his suit, Hermione whined. It was a low sound, keening, and she
felt him shudder. “I want to kiss you.” She admitted.

He stopped breathing. “Hermione, you’re…”

“Will you bend down so I can kiss you?”

Shaking his head, Draco muttered, “Not when you’re like this.”

“You wouldn’t kiss me this morning either.” She leaned her forehead against his chest. “I
thought you wanted me last night.”

He cursed under his breath. Brushing a piece of hair from her face, Draco appeared to be in
agony. It couldn’t possibly compare to how she felt. “You already know I want you
desperately.”

Giving into temptation, Hermione rubbed against him. Just a bit. Enough to see that his knees
buckled in her wake. “Please.” She pleaded. “I’ll beg if you want me to. I’ll be good for you.
I’ll—”

Draco’s hands framed her face when he kissed her. It was slow, and the lift shook around
them. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and allowed his thumbs to trace a path
over her cheeks. When he groaned, Hermione fisted her hands in his suit.

“Please. Please. Please. Please, Draco.”

There was a screech as the doors opened, and he pulled away from her. “Let me get you out
of here, Granger.” He ripped her forward, keeping her close, and stormed toward the
Apparition point just beyond the hotel’s exit. “I’ll give you anything you want. Just let me
take care of you.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading another chapter. I promise the tension will boil over and the smut
will come in chapter three!

Next update will be July 9th.

I'm also updating a mini dramione on Fridays this month that you may like if you enjoy
mutual pining, idiots in love, and scheming friends.
 unraveling
Chapter Notes

Hello, I chose to update one of my fics early today because I was bored. A twitter poll
decided that it would be this one, so we're getting the smut earlier than planned.

Please be aware that this was not edited beyond my own skills, and if there are any
embarrassing typos, you're welcome to tell me.

A brief content warning: this chapter has a small part that is dedicated to Hermione's
insecurities of her own body. She's not fully self-deprecating, but it's there. I realize that
this can be a trigger to some, and I would prefer to be upfront about it.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The moment they landed in her sitting room, Draco all but ran from her. She’d follow him,
but first, she needed to get these layers off. Using her wand, she unzipped the back and let it
pool at her feet.

Draco came back into the room, and froze at the sight of her. There was a vial in his hands,
the liquid amber as it sloshed inside. Another suppressant. “Oh, my God,” he said softly,
pained. “You took off your clothes.”

“It’s too hot. I’m—” She covered herself the best she could. “If I’m not pretty enough, I’m
sorry.”

He fell to his knees in front of her. “You’re exquisite. The prettiest witch I’ve ever seen.”
Draco gripped her hand and led her to the floor. “I need you to swallow this, Hermione. Can
you do that for me?”

She swatted the vial away. “I don’t want it. I want you .”

Draco pulled her into his lap. “Take this for me so I know you’re lucid, love. I need to talk to
you.” He tipped it to her lips, watching her closely as she swallowed. “Show me under your
tongue.”

Hermione swallowed again.

“Good girl,” Draco’s large hands rested on her upper thighs, and the heat of them did nothing
to help her.

Her thoughts numbed, and she regained her focus, but nothing had changed. She still wanted
him. “Draco, I still feel the way I did this morning.”
Draco’s hands on her tightened. “I can’t give you what you need.”

It felt like her heart cracked right down the middle. Her eyes filled with tears. “Then I need
you to leave. Please don’t come back. Send any auror you want— Just don’t come back
here.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He told her, always so stubborn. “Hermione, look at me.”

She kept her eyes on the floor. “I understand that you don’t want me, but if you stay, I’ll
throw myself at you. Over and over again. Do you believe you can handle that?”

He fell quiet.

“I’ll be desperate. I’ll beg you, Draco. I will fucking cry at your feet if it means you might
fuck me, and if you have no interest in that, I need you to leave so I’ll be able to look you in
the eye again.” Her knickers were surely soaked now. Her nipples were already hard, peaked
against the cold air. Already, it was difficult to not grind down on him. “Just—”

She would try one more time. Just one more.

Why wouldn’t he let her go?

“If you’re holding back because you think you don’t deserve me—”

Draco rested his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.” He growled. “You’re— You’re
fucking everything, Granger.”

She stilled.

“I would do anything for you.” He whispered, arms tightening around her. “Anything to keep
you happy. Anything to keep you safe. God, I’d do anything to be the one to take care of you,
but I’m not going to fuck you so you’ll regret it. You want it now—”

“I have wanted you for months,” Hermione hissed. She wanted to strangle him almost as
badly as she wanted to kiss him. “I imagine you, all the time. During my last heat? I thought
of you. I couldn’t even look at you after.”

He didn’t let go of her. “I’m not the one who gets you in the end.”

Hermione saw red. She’d— It was a bad idea. Very clearly, Draco did not respond well to
jealousy. It was the worst idea, and yet she settled on it. “Then get me the person who does,”
she snarled. Hermione turned in his lap. “Go fucking get the person who can take care of me
since you clearly can’t .”

Draco went unnaturally still, his hands gripping her, and he glared at her. His pupils growing
wider should have warned her off. The way his nails cut into the skin of her thighs should
have been a warning. “Granger,” her name was nothing more than a rumble from his chest.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t what?” She said tartly. “You’ve said it yourself. If you’re not going to take me, then
find me someone who can .”

His lip curled.

“Does it bother you?” She breathed. “He could press me into my bed. Could drag his tongue
across my skin.” Hermione laid her hand against his chest, and felt his erratic heartbeat.
“What if he fucks me, Draco? What if instead of crying out for you, I’m whimpering his
name?”

“ Hermione.”

She was so close.

So, so close.

“Maybe he fucks me so good, I decide to keep him. Maybe—” Hermione leaned forward,
letting her breath trail across his lower lip. “Maybe I’ll let him bite me. Maybe I’ll beg—”

She screamed when he pinned her to the floor, and he hovered above her, eyes already black.

God, he looked furious.

“No one,” he choked, and pressed his knee against the apex of her thighs. “No one is going to
fucking bite you.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, glanced at him.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, and his hair dropped into his face. A vein stood out against
his throat as he gripped both of her wrists in one hand.

“That’s my decision. Not yours.” Hermione breathed. “You can’t stand the thought of me
being with anyone, can you?”

His grip tightened a fraction.

She pretended to struggle against him, but he knew her well enough to see through it.

“That’s what will happen though, Draco.”

His shoulders tensed.

Swallowing, Hermione decided that this couldn’t only be a game to earn a rise out of him. If
he turned her away now, when she was aching, and in pain, Hermione would walk away. It
wouldn’t matter that it felt like cleaving herself in two; she wouldn’t chase him.

“I want it to be you,” Hermione whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “My feelings
aren’t new, Draco and you know that. It’s been this way since nearly the beginning. Most of
my time with you, I spend watching you. And you do too.”
Draco clenched his jaw. “Granger.”

She ignored him. Now was the only time she could manage to force the confession. Her
thoughts were muddled, blurred by the brutal burn coursing through her veins already, and
she— Well, she owed herself the truth.

“If you’re too much of a coward to choose me, then that’s fine. I’ll forgive you.” Hermione
tapped her fingers against the back of his hands. She’d gone limp in his hold. Honestly, she
hadn’t felt so at ease in weeks. “You either choose me, or you leave. I’m not going to beg you
to take care of me. Please don’t put me through that.”

A choked sound came from his throat.

“If you’ve ever cared about me at all, you won’t do that to me, Draco.” Her words, quiet,
landed like a physical blow.

Draco shuddered.

“But if you do want me— I think we’d be spectacular together.” Hermione smiled. “Both of
us know that we’re evenly matched. There’s never been a time I haven’t had a good time with
you, but I don’t want to be only friends with you.”

“Fuck, Hermione—”

Her eyes began to water, and she blinked.

“Please don’t cry.”

“We haven’t been friends for months. We’ve been on the edge of everything we want, and if
you can’t choose me, then…”

Draco let go of her hands. The fact that he would leave slammed into her, and her breathing
cut off. Of course he would leave. Hadn’t he already made that clear? He cupped her face,
palm against her cheek, and swiped away a tear with his thumb. “You shouldn’t cry over me.”

“You’re going to break my heart.” Hermione bit out. “Let me up. Get off of me.” She
flattened her palms to his chest, ignoring the heat of him, and turned her face to the side. “Get
out.”

He caught her chin anyway, and he forced her to look at him. “I’m not leaving.” Draco
glanced at her mouth. “You want me?”

Slowly, Hermione nodded. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

His thumb skimmed her bottom lip. “I won’t want to let you go.”

“I’ve seen how possessive you are,” Hermione muttered. “It’s not like it’s going to shock me.
You’re extremely protective. A bit overbearing, honestly but we can work on it.”

He snorted.
So far, the suppressant had done its job, but Hermione was well aware that it couldn’t last.
She remained level headed for now, but it would be gone before she knew it. She was
currently only working against time, and Draco’s own insecurities.

She knew which of those was harder than the other.

“I don’t think you’ll have to let me go.” Hermione admitted in a low tone. “We’ll just snap
into place. You can’t tell me that you don’t believe that.”

Draco sat back and drew her against his chest. He pulled her to straddle his thighs, and she
stared down at him. He was softer like this, relaxed against her, and it was all the
confirmations she needed. “I already know you’re perfect for me.”

Blame it on biology— Hermione wanted to cry.

He rubbed her upper arms. “I’ve known since the day Potter introduced us in the Leaky.”

So, he’d felt it too. It had been years ago.

Lunging forward, Hermione closed the gap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She
kissed him hard, letting the tip of her tongue slide against the seam of his lips, and she
whimpered as his hand pressed to her back. Pressing her even closer.

“Please,” Hermione whispered, leaning back, just a little. “Please stop trying to push me
away. I can’t take it anymore.”

His eyes were hooded. Draco was clearly as dazed as she felt. “You want me?” He repeated,
fingers tangling in her hair at the nape of her neck.

“Very much so.”

Ducking his head, Draco murmured against her mouth, “Then you’ll have me.”

Whatever patience she’d had left snapped in two. No, it evaporated.

Hermione pushed him backward, perhaps more roughly than she should have, and sent him
tumbling to the floor. His head hit the side of the coffee table.

“Fucking—”

Covering his mouth with hers, Hermione groaned, “You’ll be fine. Just shut up.”

“You are tremendously—” He choked when her hands snuck beneath his shirt. “Bossy. So
very bossy.”

She pinched his lower stomach, just enough to cause him to bat her hands away. “I think you
like it.” Grinding down against him, Hermione felt his length pressed against the apex of her
thighs. Long, and thick and fuck— She wanted his pants off.
Leaning over him, Hermione pulled her wand from the table, and did not waste a minute to
magic his clothes to the floor.

He gaped at her.

“I’ll enjoy taking them off another time.” Hermione said simply, with a smug smile. “I don’t
have the time, currently.”

Hermione traced the lines of his chest. She bent forward to drag her tongue along his
Sectumsempra scar, taking her time and enjoying his hands tightening on her waist. There
was a scar on his shoulder, where a knife had been driven through, and she pressed a soft kiss
to it. “Such a stupid man,” Hermione laughed under her breath. “We could have had this all
the time but no…”

“I was trying,” he gasped. “To be noble.”

“Don’t. You’re terrible at it.” Hermione rolled her hips, and clutched his shoulders. “If you
want me, just choose me. If it’s only for now—”

He shook his head. “When your heat is over,” Draco hid his face in the crook of her neck. He
inhaled deeply, mouth finding a sensitive spot on her throat. “We’ll talk then.”

“Yes.”

Hermione was already half out of her mind. She doubted she could manage a serious
conversation currently.

Draco didn’t let her go as he stood. Holding her flush against him, he led her through the flat,
past the room he’d been staying in, and hesitated at her bedroom door. She caught the
vulnerability crossing his face, and stretched up to press her mouth to his jaw. His hand
flexed on her lower back.

“I’m glad it’s you.” Hermione whispered, and pushed the door open with her foot. The effects
of the potion were finally wearing off fully, and the heat lining her skin turned vicious. She’d
burn up if he didn’t join her on the bed—or possibly the floor. “Whatever you’re thinking of,
just let it go. Just show me, Draco.”

His eyes remained dark in the low light, still conflicted, but he picked her up then. The last
bit of his reluctance began to vanish, and he kissed her all the way to the bed. “I almost didn’t
survive last night,” he laid her across the sheets, settling between her thighs and lifting her
leg. Draco kissed her ankle, and created a slow path to her knee. “Listening to you fuck
yourself… God, that was too much.”

Panting, Hermione watched him through hooded eyes. He seemed content to take his time,
and all she wanted was to sit in his lap, taking every unforgiving inch of him until she
screamed. She couldn’t bring herself to pull him up though.

“You could have joined me.”

He shuddered.
“I would have let you.” Hermione tried to sound casual, but she couldn’t manage it. “You
could have watched, if you wanted. I was so wet. You have no idea.”

Kneeling between her open thighs, Draco’s teeth grazed the skin of her inner thigh, and she
thought he might have drawn blood.

She was sure he did when his tongue slid across the exact same spot.

“Oh,” he laughed quietly, and his fingers slid against her slit through the thin fabric of her
knickers. “I think I have an idea.”

She muttered, “Prat.”

But then his mouth was on her, tongue rolling languidly across her clit and she needed her
knickers off. Draco groaned, inhaling her scent again, as he held her thighs open. “You’re so
goddamned wet, love.”

Covering her face, Hermione felt the least bit embarrassed. “Draco, please, I need more.”

For as long as she lived—some one hundred years—Hermione would never forget how he
looked as he gazed up at her. Darkened grey eyes as he lowered his mouth to her, pulling her
knickers to the side so his tongue finally touched her and her back arched.

“I’ll fuck you.” He promised, and sank two fingers into her heat. “I’ll fuck you however you
want.” Draco curved his fingers, and sucked her clit and—

It was just all it took to make her cry out his name.

It felt like falling, and air rushing past her as he pinned her to the bed by her hips.

“Oh, God,” Hermione whined. She felt boneless, but she reached for him. “Inside me now,”
she bit out, pushing him onto his back. “No more waiting.” She straddled his waist.

Already slick enough to take him, Hermione sat on his cock in a move she’d been dreaming
of for months. He stretched her fully, and her legs trembled as she took him. His mouth fell
open, and he choked.

“Fuck, Granger.” Draco held onto her, and thrust into her. He didn’t hold back like she had
feared he might. “Bloody fucking gorgeous girl. Look at you taking my cock.” He pushed
himself up, and wrapped his arms around Hermione’s middle.

Her nails cut into his forearms, and her eyes rolled back. “Draco. Oh, God. Please—just fuck
me.”

Draco’s mouth closed around a pert nipple, tongue sliding against it and she cried out. “I’ll
fuck you until you forget your goddamned name, love.”

It didn’t take much to push her into another orgasm. She was desperately sensitive, and her
body was quite literally made for this.
She stared at him, heart slamming in her chest, and Hermione couldn’t breathe. His smirk
made her ache.

“I have an idea,” he kissed her breasts. “I rather think you’ll like it. I know that I will.” Draco
said that as though she would tell him no .

Draco’s idea involved both of them being naked, so Hermione was eager to agree. However,
his idea also involved the mirror on the wall, and Hermione had to say she was a bit
skeptical. He could simply watch her; she wasn’t sure what the mirror offered.

If he wanted to see how he fucked her, then Draco could just look down and see where they
were joined. If he took her from behind, he would have an even better view of her cunt
stretching to take him. If she were on top, he’d have the best view of her tits.

But no, he had an idea.

Draco brought the mirror fully to the floor, resting against the wall, and he gathered her close
to his chest. His lips brushed her hair, and Hermione shivered. “Spread your legs, Granger.
That’s it. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” His knuckle slid along her jaw. “Look at
yourself.”

She did, albeit reluctantly.

Hermione decided to focus on him instead. His shoulders were broad, tattoos covering them
and slipping down his biceps. She could spend hours looking at each one. His forearms were
corded with muscle, and there was a line from where his uniform ended. She didn’t linger on
the Dark Mark, because he would shut down on himself if she did, but Hermione didn’t mind
it.

There were the rings decorating his fingers, the ones that would catch in her hair if he pulled
too hard, and she wanted him to pull harder even so.

“You’re not listening.” Draco’s chest rumbled with his words. “Why aren’t you looking at
yourself?”

“You’re prettier.”

Draco shook his head, tracing a circle around her knee. “You’re not looking closely enough
then.”

Hermione swallowed. She liked herself well enough, she supposed. Nice legs, even if she
wished they were a bit longer. A soft stomach, nothing like the build he had himself, or the
witches he had—she was not going to knock on that door. Her tits were nice, Hermione
thought. They overflowed in his large hands. She had a cute face. Her nose was a bit wrong,
but her teeth were straight and—

He was staring at her, his gaze bordering on feral.

“I want you to watch, Hermione. Not me. Just you.” His hand slid up her thigh, nearing
where she needed him most. “Can you do that for me?”

Sensing that this would be a journey, she couldn’t turn him down.

She nodded.

Draco cupped one of her breasts, taking the weight of it into his hand as he stroked her
nipple. His other hand dipped between her thighs, fingers brushing her slick folds, and her
breath caught. “I dream of you.” Draco murmured, and two fingers slid home. “Every night,
without fail. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”

She could see just how wet she was, could see how his fingers pumped into her and her
nipple stiffened beneath his touch.

“The fact that you don’t realize how stunning you are is an absolute shame. A crime, if you
will.”

Hermione giggled. “Will you arrest me?”

He swatted her cunt lightly and Hermione moaned. Fuck. “Later, if you’d like me to. Shall I
cuff you as well?”

“Oh, God. Please.”

Draco smirked. “Oh, you’re positively filthy. Don’t try to distract me, love.” His fingers
quickened, curving within her as he massaged that spongy spot. “I love everything about you,
Granger. It’s a wonder I can think when you’re around.”

He picked her up, and slowly sat her on his cock. Hermione held onto him, whimpering and
then he hissed, “Look at how well you take my cock, love.”

No wonder he wanted to watch her.

It was incredibly alluring.

Draco was a large man in all respects, and Hermione was very drawn to that fact. His cock
wasn’t an exception, and she was a small woman when it came to height.

There was something about seeing herself stretch around him as she felt it at the same time.

His breath rushed past her ear as he fucked her slowly, but roughly. She could feel the head of
his cock dragging against her inner walls as he bounced her in his lap, and Hermione whined.
He laid his hand against the bulge in her stomach, and she wanted to fucking cry.

“Can you feel me here, Granger?”

“Yes.”
He slammed into her, and Hermione screamed. Her breasts shook with each thrust and
Hermione wasn’t sure how she would make it through the next few days.

“You told me you imagined this,” Draco nipped her ear. “Tell me about that.”

Nodding, Hermione’s voice shook. “It’s a fucking miracle I ever made it through a day when
you were around. You took a witch from my department to lunch once, and I nearly shredded
a piece of legislation. I wanted to kill her.”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “I’m sorry.”

She doubted that, really.

“I’ve thought about you in nearly every way, really.” Hermione feigned nonchalance like he
wasn’t currently splitting her open and giving her the fuck of her life. “I’ve thought about
riding you while you sat at your desk. You fucking me over my mine. I’ve spent too much
time considering the fact that I could probably fuck you in the loo at the pub.” Hermione
swallowed thickly. “I always want it, Draco. I’m nearly always wet if you’re around.”

He choked. “I know.”

Her face went pink. Of course he fucking knew. He could smell her. Oh, God. When this was
over she would remember to be mortified.

“I didn’t want anyone else,” Hermione whispered, feeling him bottom out inside of her over
and over again. “I’ve gone through a heat wishing you were here,” she continued just as
quietly. “I’ve wondered what your knot would feel like.”

Draco sucked a spot on her neck, teeth meeting her skin and she wished he would shift to the
left, just a bit. The gland is right there, perfectly ready for him, and she would give it to him.
All of it.

“You can watch me knot you.” Draco groaned. “I want to show you how fucking well you
can take it.”

She did.

He swelled slowly and his thrusts finally stopped as his knot expanded within her and
Hermione nearly sobbed from it all. “Oh, God. Draco, you feel incredible.” He held her legs
up, arms slipped beneath her knees as he let her weight drop against him fully.

Hermione tilted her head back and peered up at him. Sweat had formed along his brow, and
his breath came in short pants.

Cool air circled in the room as he bent down to kiss her, shifting within her and she whined
into his mouth. “Granger,” he bit her lower lip gently. “No one can compare to you. I need
you to accept that.”

The needy haze that came with a heat had lessened, and Hermione promised herself that she
would not argue with him. She’d had her doubts about herself, but she would believe him.
 “Yeah,” Hermione nodded. “I’ll accept that if you can believe that I’ve always only wanted
you. Can you do that?”

His fingers started in tight circles on her clit. Draco nodded, and he pushed her toward that
blissful edge all over again. “Just us,” he murmured, and Draco watched her as she came, still
wrapped around him. “You and me, Granger.”

Chapter End Notes

I'm currently hyperfixating on writing Chrissy/Eddie fic from Stranger Things, but I
hope you enjoyed this update!

Next update will be on or BEFORE 7/16. It's likely to be on the 12th because that's my
birthday.
 i'm so goddamned in love with you
Chapter Notes

As another reminder, the stalker was handled off-screen. This story didn't veer into the
full mystery aspect. There was just enough of it to get me to where I could write the
explicit content I wanted. But if you're still on board despite that, this does have what is
definitely the best love confession I've ever written.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The days were a clash of sweaty, writhing bodies as she held onto him. Hermione learned the
lines of his torso, the scar that bisected it. It still wasn’t long enough to map out everything he
liked, but she learned a few things.

He shivered when she blew a breath behind his right ear, and his fingers dug into her hips
while she rode him. His head tipped back when she neared the mating gland at the base of his
throat; it seemed he was incredibly eager to have her mouth on it, tongue rolling across the
sensitive surface. Draco came positively unhinged when her mouth was wrapped around his
cock, her nose bumping against the flat skin of his pelvis.

He talked—a lot.

Draco didn’t leave out a single detail. He talked her through the slow wind up to an orgasm,
then fucked her through it.

And he’d wanted her for a long time. Longer than she’d wanted him, truthfully.

After all, he’d told her just that on the first night. He’d told her how it had been from that first
moment in their favored pub when Harry introduced them.

“You just—” Draco broke off, sliding into her fully in a move he did too well. “You’ve
always been gorgeous. You make my eyes fucking water, and my brain just— It’s impossible
to think when you’re around.”

She curled her fingers against his pectorals, nails scraping and leaving trails in their wake.

“My time is divided between when you’re there—” Draco thrust upward, locking his arms
around her middle as he bottomed out. He smirked at the weak mewl she gave. “And waiting
for you to be.”

Hermione buried her face in the curve of his neck, nipping the gland, then licking him slowly
in broad stripes. “Choose this then. When this is over, choose me.”
They had already said they would in less words, using their hands and bodies to send
messages they had been too afraid to say.

But she wanted to hear him say it.

“In our final year, I watched you,” Draco admitted quietly. “It wasn’t anything more than an
attraction that I couldn’t forget about, but you were intoxicating in the best way. Then I
finally knew you, and Hermione,” he tilted her head up, his mouth brushing hers. “There is
no one after you.”

Hermione traced his jaw with the end of her finger. “We wasted so much time.” Sadness crept
in. Regret could make her choke, but he cocked his head to the side, and smiled. “What?”

“I’d do it the same, you know.” His strokes slowed as he swelled, and Hermione squeezed her
eyes shut. The feel of him stretching her—it didn’t matter how many times they reached this,
there was nothing like it. “All of it. I’d pine after you for years, Granger. It wasn’t all bad.”

She sat up in his lap, writhing. “It could have been better.”

“You misunderstand.” He watched her, enraptured, as she raised her arms and set to tying her
hair back. It was going to smother them both at this rate. “There’s nothing like watching you.
I’ve learned it all. What it means if you choose coffee over tea—it will be a late night. I’d be
smart to bring you dinner. The brand of ink you favor over others. Haven’t you noticed that
you never run out? It’s not because the Ministry supplies it. It’s obscenely expensive.”

Her mouth fell open. “It glides better—”

“When you write, I know. It also doesn’t clump. Granger, I know.”

He—

“You have so many smiles, I’m not sure if you realize that. You have one for your cat. You
have one for your friends. Then there’s that one that you save for me, and I swear it could
stop my heart.”

Her eyes watered, and he reached up to brush a tear away.

“When you’re having a hard day, you twist your hair up with your wand, and it drives me
spare. I don’t know what it is, but I know I’d best stay out of your way.”

Hermione kissed him eagerly, deeply, trying to press herself closer when she was already as
close as she could be. “You’re not the only one who sat back and observed,” she whispered.
“I know everything about you.”

He quirked a brow. “Do you now?”

“You bite your nails when you see me. I’ve always known how you felt, but you never acted
on it, so… I tried to forget about it. You’re the first one to tell Pansy happy birthday, and Ron
hates that he can never beat you to it. Your favorite person is your mum, and I’ll be damned if
that’s not the most endearing thing.”
He stroked her sides, brushing the sides of her breasts.

“I’ve watched you through the stages of our lives, and there is no one better than you.”
Hermione wiped her eyes. “There’s no length you won’t go to in order to protect those you
care about. I also know that you send me sugar quills because you want to watch me suck on
them.”

He roared with laughter, head falling back, and he nodded. His chest shook as he laughed.
“You’re right, but that’s more of a gift for me than you. You can’t blame me either. You
always put on such a show for me.”

Nodding, Hermione said smoothly, “I’ve always imagined it was your cock instead.”

He twitched inside of her. “I think I still know more than you.”

“No,” Hermione leaned down, bracing her forearms against his upper chest as her mouth
hovered above his. “You don’t.”

“Prove it to me then. Tell me one of my secrets.”

That was easy. She’d known it for so long now— Hermione had just always pushed it away
out of fear while calling it self-preservation.

At the end of the line, Hermione took her first step away from it.

“I know that you love me.” She whispered, tracing his collarbone where sweat had pooled.

He grinned, and it was boyish. “I have for years, but thank you for finally noticing. Shall I
tell you one of your secrets?”

Hermione’s nose wrinkled. “Let’s not do that and we’ll skip to the part where I tell you that I
love you.”

His chest caved in on a breath.

“Sometimes I think I love you so much that it hurts. I feel it here.” She brought his hand to
her heart, flattening his palm and laying her fingers on top of his so he’d feel the steady beat.
“When I looked at you, I ached because you weren’t mine.”

Hermione had always been honest, with most things, but she’d carried him close to her heart.
Out of sight. Out of her voice.

“Of course I’m yours.”

She pecked him, but quickly withdrew before he could drag her in. “It was scary, you know.
Falling in love with you.”

His gaze softened. “I never meant to scare you.”

“I should say it was frightening in the beginning, because I didn’t realize how you looked at
me. I always made up a reason for it. You were just a good friend, I would think.”

“Did you know that you’re my best friend?” His nose bumped hers. “Don’t tell Theo.”

Hermione giggled. “When it comes down to it though, loving you is the easiest thing I’ve
ever done. It’s just like breathing—I’ve always known how to do it. There’s no learning
curve to you. I know you better than I know myself.”

He rolled them, careful for where they were joined together, and pressed a sob into her hair.
His eyes were slightly misty, but she didn’t think he’d ever admit it. That was fine. It would
exist here solely, in this bubble they’d made together. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” He
muttered. “You will never doubt that again. You’ll always know it.”

Combing her fingers through his hair, Hermione kissed his temple. “I don’t think you’ll let
me forget.”

“I’ll tell you every day,” Draco began to soften, and the absence of him as he withdrew from
her was blistering. He laid with her, on his side while facing her and joined their hands in the
middle. “You’ll get sick of it.”

“No, I won’t.”

Draco propped his head up, resting on his elbow, and he stared. She was still bare, and his
gaze swept over her hungrily. “You’re coming down now.”

“It won’t be long,” Hermione said quietly. “You’ll stay anyway?”

“I’m sorry. Did you miss the part where I’ve been in love with you for years now? Did your
cataclysmic orgasm break something in that pretty brain of yours?”

Hermione flushed and resisted the urge to turn her face into the pillow. “I would hardly call it
cataclysmic.”

“I would.” He revealed white teeth when he smiled, and it was one of a predator. “I could tell,
given the way you talk when you’re clenching down around me.” He twisted a piece of her
hair around his finger. “No one has ever praised my cock the way you have. I’m flattered,
truly.”

They had reverted back to teasing and friendship so quickly.

She was right.

They might have been fashioned for one another.

“Yes, well,” Hermione huffed. “I lost track of all the ways you complimented me and my
tight cunt.”

He dragged a line down her chest, between her breasts, before resting the top of her thighs.
“And yet I still haven’t discovered how to properly praise you.”
Hermione whimpered, parting her thighs. “You could try again.”

“I should.” He slid closer to her, bringing her leg to rest on his hip as he touched her lightly.
“It’s the least you deserve.” Draco kissed her, tongue moving slowly, and she clung to him.

The fever had gone, the heat on the surface of her skin evaporated, and she still wanted him
just as badly. If the world were different, if there were no designations, Hermione was sure
they still would have ended up together.

You couldn’t easily prevent fate.

She didn’t imagine she’d want to.

“You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” Draco told
her gently, and then there were only the sounds of her—slick and wanting—combined with
her shallow breathing. “In the Malfoy family, we often commission art of the witches we
marry, the ones we love.”

There was a slip of a thought—a ring on her finger, probably ostentatious knowing him,
while holding it up to the sun to see it shine.

“There is no artist in the world that could capture you.” Two fingers slid into her, curving
with pressure and she scratched at his shoulders. There must be bright red lines down his
back from her nails. They would last for days. He might charm them to last for longer. “They
would never manage to paint the precise gold of your eyes. There’s no color that exists to
match it.”

Hermione’s chest rose and fell. She whimpered.

His thumb pressed against her clit, and she shuddered. “But I know it. I’ve committed every
inch of you to memory.” His stride quickened, and he was harder with her, pressing her
toward the edge. “That’s it. God, you’re fucking pretty when you come. Let me see you.”

She whined his name. “Oh, God. I’m so close.”

“Perfect little cunt fluttering around my fingers,” he groaned, and slanted his mouth over
hers. “Come here.” Draco’s fingers slid out.

“ No.” Hermione whispered. “I was so close. Draco—”

He pulled her to her knees, guiding her even as she felt boneless. “I’m going to take such
good care of you,” Draco told her, and he forced her to straddle his chest.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t—

Draco yanked her upward, and licked her cunt.

“Oh, my fucking God.” Hermione nearly fell backward, but his hands were there, steadying
her. Pressed against her curves while pushing her down so he could dip his tongue into her,
and he took his time. “Draco, if you tease me, I swear—”
He huffed a laugh against her thigh, biting sensitive skin before his tongue circled her clit.
And somehow, he was still talking, still pulling back every few minutes as she chased the
high, and it might be his words that caused her to break apart fully. It was a clear sign of just
how far she’d pushed him, given how he’d abandoned any semblance of full sentences.

Draco gave her fragments.

Just—

“Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers resumed, slipping in then parting to stretch her.
“Everything about you is pretty, including this gorgeous, little pink cunt.”

Hermione ground down, and watched him. Over the curve of her stomach, she could only see
his eyes—piercing and grey and bottomless—and his hair—fucked beyond anything a
hairbrush could fix. She rode his tongue, shuddering with every last swipe of his tongue.

He bit out, “Hold onto the headboard.”

Hermione gripped it, her body sagging, and his free hand came to her breasts. Cupping her
roughly, and he dragged a calloused finger across her stiff nipple.

“You’re so fucking full of me.” He groaned.

She hadn’t thought about it.

Hadn’t remembered that he’d filled her, and that was dripping out of her now. He’d licked her
anyway, covered her cunt in broad licks as his tongue dipped inside her hole, and it elevated
all of it.

“You’re a goddamned mess.” He told her. “My messy girl.”

It was clear why he’d said to hold on, because Hermione was going to collapse.

“I’m always going to do this,” he moaned. “Pushing every bit of what I gave you into this
little cunt. I want you to feel me.”

“I do.” Hermione babbled. “I think I’ll be feeling you for weeks.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” His lips closed on her clit, and he sucked hard enough to send her into a
fall, and she screamed.

Hermione writhed against him, and let him lay her across his chest as she shivered in the
aftershocks. “Oh, God.”

He brushed her hair from her forehead.

Using the little energy she had, Hermione twisted upward to kiss him. She could taste herself,
the tang of her cunt, and she whimpered. “You’re unbelievable.”

Draco smirked. “You seemed to like it.”

Dazed, Hermione nodded. “Right, you’re going to do that again. As soon as I can take it.”

“You can have anything you want. I could lick you for hours, if you think you can take it.”

“I don’t think I can,” Hermione whispered. She was already so sensitive, but… “I think I
want you to do it anyway. You could pin me down, and make me come against, and again and
—”

His eyes remained dark, the pupils hardly visible, and he nodded. Draco clenched his jaw.
“You’re the witch of my dreams.”

Hermione beamed. “You want to watch me take what you give me, Draco?” She traced the
edges of his gland. “I wonder what my limit would be.” It was shockingly easy to wind him
up, but she was curious to discover what other things he liked, outside of a heat. “I think we
could find it,” she paused, flicking her gaze up. “Then you could break it.”

He yanked her beneath the sheets with a dark laugh.

In the morning, Draco found her in the kitchen with a cup of tea, and she pushed another cup
toward him. He’d remained blissfully shirtless, and his trousers were low on his waist, button
undone, zipper down.

Throughout the night before, they had reached for the other three more times. Her legs were
sore from bouncing in his lap. There were surely marks on her neck, bruises on her hips in
the shape of long fingers.

If he turned, she had no doubt she’d seen where her nails had come down. There was a bite
on his neck, a few actually, but notably, his hair was in knots in a way that rivaled her own.

“Long night?” Hermione quipped, bringing her cup to her mouth. “You look tired.”

He slumped on the island, bracing his arms on top of it as he dragged his cup toward him.
“Oh yes. A witch took me for quite a ride last night. I barely slept, and when I did sleep, I
shagged her in my dreams as well.”

Laughing, Hermione came around the island to lean at his side. “She must be a good fuck.”

Draco snorted, clearly not expecting that, and almost choked when he swallowed. “Oh, she’s
an unbelievable fuck.” He set his cup down, and the liquid sloshed over the edges. “You’re
wearing my shirt. I was looking for it.”

Hermione wore nothing beneath it, and her nipples had already pebbled from the chill rolling
through the flat. He picked her up, and made it look so easy, before setting her on the island.
Draco slid between her parted legs. “Oh, yes. I had to make sure you didn’t put it back on,”
Hermione shrugged. “It’s a new rule. You’re not allowed to wear a shirt here.”

“I see. Can I add a rule that you’re not allowed to wear knickers?”
She lifted the hem of the shirt, biting her lip when he groaned. “Oh, I’m already ahead of
you, actually. Any other rules you’d like to add before you fuck me on the counter?”

“When you’re in my flat,” Draco said, as he pulled his already hardening cock from his
trousers. “You’re not to ever wear clothes. I never want you to hide a single inch of you from
me.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open as he slid into her. “This is incredible.” She watched where they
were joined, watched him slide into her fully until he was seated within her. “I can feel you
right here.” She circled a finger over her lower stomach, pressing down on the slight bulge.
“You’re so fucking deep.”

“Merlin,” he withdrew from her, almost fully, and groaned when she pressed her heels
against his back and brought him forward quickly. “You’re greedy this morning.”

He had no idea.

“I have a brilliant idea.” Hermione breathed, gripping the back of his neck for something to
hold onto. “If I’m not allowed to wear clothes in your flat, maybe one day I can wait for you
to come home.”

He cursed. His hips stuttered.

“Would you like me to be the first thing you see?”

“You know the answer, Hermione.” He rasped. “I’ll move you in this weekend if you’re the
first thing I see every morning. Especially if you never wear clothes.”

Her heart warmed, and she wasn’t going to go that far this quickly, but she focused on that
vein that stood out in his forehead. “Would you like me to wait on my knees?”

Draco pushed her backward, draping her across the island, and he pinched her nipple. “Yes.”
He brought her legs over his shoulders, and fucked her. “Love your tits,” he groaned, and his
eyes were on them. “They’re the perfect size for my hands, and so soft under my tongue.”

She nodded, squealing as he toyed with her clit. Tight, hard circles, and it wouldn’t take long
for them both to reach their climax.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Draco stilled when her walls spasmed, and he laid his forehead against her
stomach as he came. “Do you remember what I said, Granger?” His fingers pressed inside of
her, and she remembered. Her eyes shot open. “Every time we do this,” he breathed, and she
nodded.

Once he was satisfied, Hermione pulled his fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean. She
gave low, gentle licks, cleaning the taste of both of them from his fingers. “I don’t know how
I’m meant to go back to work tomorrow.” Hermione laughed quietly. “All I’d like to do is
stay in this flat with you.”

Draco cupped her face, his eyes impossibly deep. “We could submit for time off,” he
suggested. “During your next heat, you could take a week of leave instead.”
 “You’d like that?”

“I would.” Draco said. “I’d like it even more if you allowed me to take you somewhere.”

Hermione arched her brow. “Nothing fancy. Just a holiday.”

“Nothing fancy?” he pouted. “Let me lavish you.”

She shook her head, grinning. “We’ll go on holiday in three months then. I’ll submit my time
off tomorrow and then…”

“I’m taking you to dinner.” Draco told her, blunt. “Tonight. Though, I will likely need three
showers to rinse the scent of sex off of me.”

“You smell like me,” Hermione whispered. Lavender and honey—the scent of her body wash
—coated his skin. “I like it.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but a stag bounded into the room. Translucent and
made practically of whisps, Harry’s voice carried through the room. “Hermione, Malfoy, we
caught the stalker that night, but I assumed you would be…too busy to receive a message.”
Her friend’s voice was strained, and Hermione snickered. “I also assume that the two of you
have sorted out your feelings, and that I will see you tomorrow in the office. If you still have
not sorted out your feelings, please do not come into work.” A pause. “I’m so fucking
serious. Sort it out. I’m tired of watching Malfoy almost rip wizards apart for looking at
you.”

The patronus evaporated and Hermione burst into laughter.

Draco’s cheeks were pink. “What do you think about pretending we haven’t sorted this out?
We could take a few days.”

It sounded nice, but she couldn’t.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. “If I have to pretend for one more day that I’m not in
love with you, I think it’d break my heart.”

His expression shuttered, and he cupped her face, fingers sprawled across the curve of her
jaw. “Love you,” Draco whispered. “We still have today.”

Hermione corrected him. “We have every day, starting now.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for tagging along on another story with me. Upcoming things will
be finishing hello, lover, but beyond that I don't think I'll be uploading any major
projects until September for my eighth year. I'm currently writing Eddie/Chrissy from
Stranger Things and if that's your thing, it will likely be up some time this week on my
profile, but under an alternate pseud.

I'm very behind on replying to comments, but I do read every single one.
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