Chapter Text
Hermione knew about sex.
She wasn’t a clueless, naive girl. She knew the process and the purposes, to get pleasure or to make children. Her parents had given her the talk, she had seen movies with her Muggle friends, read books about passionate romance, and girls in the Eighth Year dorm talked. A lot.
However, she had never experienced anything of that sort. Too busy with a war on her shoulders, she never got the time to even think about the intricate feelings of maturity. Not the feeling they describe low on your stomach or that tingly sensation between your legs. She had tried and explored, never finding that real pleasure, not sure how to look for it.
She did react to the attention of boys like Blaise Zabini or Dean Thomas when they talked to her in class or at dinner, their flirty and charming personalities making her heart leap.
Or men, like Professor Malfoy.
She hadn’t fancied anyone in a long time, not since Ron months and months ago, but she felt different around him, with his rolled up sleeves after the class had started simmering their potions and with his wavy hair falling on his forehead. The way he drawled his voice when he explained the concoctions and their effects. He was bloody fit. He couldn’t have been older than 30 years old.
The man did unrecognizable things to her insides and Hermione needed someone to explain them to her, urgently.
She had flushed as soon as she stepped foot in the dungeons, this was the last class of the afternoon and she could see it in the disheveled look he bore. Hours and hours spent in the humid classroom, his white shirt clinging to his slightly—barely noticeable slick body, the top button already opened.
She liked that he wasn’t a typical professor, his classes could even be described as fun and valuable, always teaching unusual potions and their antidotes, how to avoid dangerous ones and to know how to identify symptoms. Today, a class mostly directed toward the safety of girls, he started explaining the symptoms of lust potions and how to separate the dangerous ones from the ones that just enhance feelings, how to properly brew the legal ones and their antidotes. His reason behind this was that he rather teach them in a safe environment rather than have teenagers doing them by themselves with no knowledge whatsoever.
Today she got carried away with the questions. Well, she always did but today was particularly different. She was genuinely interested, more for personal reasons than academics, really. Harry and Ron would’ve accused her of being swotty, but they hadn’t even qualified for this advanced class.
Her hand was up in the air for the third time today.
“…sweat and fast heart rate, you might feel a state of arousal… Yes, Miss Granger.” He stopped his gaze on her and she blushed as he addressed her. His new baritone— voice shifting to a low tone. Seductive, she would dare to say.
“I was wondering how to identify the latter, sir?”
He paused and blinked at her, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m sure you all hit puberty a long time ago…” She wasn't particularly scared of her question, she worded it to be purely academic, specifically to know the effects of arousal on a lust potion. Not that she knew how to identify it without one.
“I was wondering its effects on Muggles, specifically, and if it’s different from wizard folk. Maybe if it changes for Muggleborns, sir.” She noticed he flinched a bit, at the end of her sentences.
“Miss Granger, I appreciate your…eagerness for Muggle anatomy. However this class is focused on wizardkind, Muggleborns included. I’m sure the library is the place where you will have your answers.” He smiled broadly at her, one of those that made her melt. Maybe she would, there were still dangerous Wizards out there ready to attack Muggles, she had always prepared for the worst and this was no exception.
“Maybe I will. Thank you, sir.” He flinched again and she noticed his jaw clench. He nodded once and cleared his throat, moving on with the class.
It was later, when class was over, that he asked her to stay behind. He sat on his desk, glasses placed on his nose and his gaze buried in papers, organizing and skimming through the lust potion homework he had assigned for class.
She was about to cross the threshold when he looked up and called for her.
“Miss Granger, can I steal a moment of your evening?”
She paused and turned around. He looked ravishing, how could one refuse an extra minute of his company?
“Of course, sir.”
She sat in the desk in front of him and watched him rest back on his chair, his fingers slightly clasped around the arm rests. The muscles on his jaw clicked and shifted.
“You don’t have to call me sir here, Miss Granger, I’m not ancient and as long as you are respectful you can stick to my last name, if you’d like.” He said, almost through gritted teeth.
“Thank you. But I’d feel more comfortable with Professor, if that's okay with you.” Something clicked in his jaw again and his eyes went dark, slightly unfocused.
“Is there an issue you wanted to discuss, si—Professor?” She asked, full of innocence. She had no clue why he had asked her to stay, she was a good student and she never missed an assignment.
He cleared his throat as his hands clasped in front of him, right over the papers.
“Yes, yes. I noticed you had a lot of interest, even more than the usual, on lust potions and its effects. I can’t help but ask, Miss Granger. Are you safe?”
She was taken aback for a second, heart beating slightly faster than usual. Unable to meet his eyes, for some reason.
“I don’t know what you mean, Professor.”
“Have you ever felt the effects described in class? Perhaps… someone with bad intentions that you think might have slipped it into your pumpkin juice?”
She blushed at his attentiveness, how worried he looked, and the topic they were discussing.
He might’ve noticed all of her reactions because he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, hands gripping the arm rests to accommodate his body to a new position. The muscles of his arms twitching and trembling a bit under his white shirt from the strength needed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my questions, I just feel it’s important to watch out for my student’s… safety. You understand.” His tone had become dangerously low and his eyes flashed something at her that she had never seen in class. It made her nervous.
“Oh—erm. No sir—I mean Professor. Never— ever felt anything of that sort.”
She stuttered, more embarrassed than flushed at the topic they were discussing.
“I see.” He smiled and sat back against the chair.
“If you ever need any help recognizing the… symptoms, don’t hesitate to reach out to me.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
He quickly looked down and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “You may leave now.”
They bid each other goodbye, and it was only when she entered the Eighth common room that she allowed herself to breathe again.
Hermione knew Professor Malfoy’s class could either be a success or be a complete failure. It was stupid, thinking 19 year olds would be responsible around lust potions. Turned out they wanted a little more fun tonight. All of them, and she saw the effects on the suggestive way the people were dancing.
She had already drunk four glasses of Butterbeer when she noticed.
It was her fault, partially. She hated the idea of the party, the music too loud and bodies too sweaty. But Hermione wasn’t stupid, she would never refuse free Butterbeer.
She had resolved to sit quietly in the corner of the Eighth common room, a small alcove that muffled the noise and was fairly illuminated by the full moon, a thick book in her hands and three empty glasses of Butterbeer scattered next to her, one clasped tightly in her hand.
It started slow and progressive, barely perceptible. Just a little heat she attributed to the amount of people packed a few metres away and the layers of clothes she wore. Almost Instantly it turned practically unbearable, a weird and sticky sensation everywhere, her breath caught in her throat and she rubbed her thighs together, unable to pinpoint what she was feeling. It didn’t feel like a drunk state or a like a stomach bug it felt—
She didn’t have words to describe it, but she knew it wasn't a normal drunken state, not after she felt it .
It got worse and worse, so bad she was almost about to go to Pomfrey. Then, when she moved her body to sug down with her feet on the floor, she felt it. A small tingle between her legs that made her buck her hips against the seat—was this…? Couldn’t be, right?
But it was.
It had to be.
She was inexperienced but not daft.
Her mind worked and worked, brain activity rapidly increasing and trying to resolve what to do until her thought process was interrupted by Blaise Zabini who was looking for Ginny, she felt slightly dizzy as he talked to her. She knew he asked her where she was, if she was okay, if she needed help and she flushed when he talked to her, the feeling between her legs heightened the longer she stayed next to him. Hermione eventually convinced him she was fine, that she just needed sleep, slightly embarrassed to admit her real state, but one he probably was feeling too.
Slightly unfocused and not remembering the interaction entirely, she tumbled outside the alcove, glasses and book discarded as she made her way to her room. She felt foreign in her own skin, her friend might’ve been enjoying this but she wasn't. Not knowing, now understanding was a curse for her, even worse than the one branded in her arm.
Sleep seemed like a smart method to make it go away, a few hours of dreamless sleep maybe even with the help of the actual Dreamless potion and—
No.
She knew better than this, especially after Professor Malfoy’s classes. Combining potions was as dangerous as muggle drugs, she needed help from someone who knew what they were doing. Pomfrey had been already discarded in her mind. She was a traditional MediWitch unaware of new concoctions, especially lust potions. She didn’t want to go to the old woman with something as crude as that, it was embarrassing.
She needed someone familiar with the new ones and its effects. Someone who could actually help her. Someone who knew, talked about, and studied them.
Professor Malfoy was the safest option.
He could help, brew or give her an antidote and she could go back to sleep like nothing had happened. It was a bit embarrassing but significantly less than going to Pomfrey.
Without noticing, she had already wandered to the entrance, ready to open the door and go to the dungeons.
“Are you alright, Hermione?” Startled by her name and a hand on her shoulder, she turned around. Harry.
Hermione blushed at the thought of him seeing her like this, they were childhood friends for fucks sake. She had never ever felt an attraction towards him and the potion didn’t seem to do anything else than embarrass her.
Her smile was reassuring and he was convinced by her words almost instantly,
“I'm fine, just need a walk.”
“Be careful, just don't get caught after curfew. Want to take my cloak?” Something in her chest loosened when he gave it to her, the process of going to the dungeons felt much less frightening this way.
“Please. Thank you, Harry.” He put his hand in his back pocket and the large cloak appeared almost from thin air but not quite, she had charmed it a while ago. He wanted it with him at all times so he could meet Theo Nott. He bid her goodbye as he disappeared into the crowd.
Turning around, she took a deep breath and moved her legs towards the front door and into the dark corridor.
She could only hope that going to him was a good idea.
-
The feeling got worse the closer she got to the Potions Master’s office. Her heart pounded inside her chest when she finally stopped outside the door, hesitating whether to knock or not. She had no options left, really. Not if she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.
She knocked on the door twice, rummaging could be heard from inside the office and it was only after a minute that the door was opened.
His eyes went wide as he finally focused his gaze on her presence.
“It’s after curfew, ‘Miss Granger.” He drawled, leaning his shoulder in the door frame.
Professor Malfoy looked fantastic. He was wearing his pants and shirt but the first three buttons were undone, she could see the paleness on his chest and the flush of his cheeks. A glass of FireWhiskey in his hand.
The sight of him made her as shy as a first year.
“I— I need help sir.”
“What is it?” He said, his tone shifting with evident concern.
“I—“ The timid tone of her voice made him smile a bit.
“Use your words, darling. What happened?”
“TheyslippedalustpotioninmyButterbeer ”she said, fast and inarticulate but he understood anyway.
He clenched his jaw before he spoke through his greeted teeth again.
“I see. Pomfrey couldn’t take care of it, I assume?” He drawled.
“I— I came here first, Professor. You are the Potions Master and I—“
“You did fine, Miss Granger. I'm glad you were comfortable enough to come here. I can give you an antidote if you’d like.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Get inside, Miss Granger.”
And inside she went.
His office was similar to the Potions Classroom, eerie but oddly comfortable. A large leather sofa sat on the left black wall and his desk at the end of the room. It wasn’t extremely large, at first sight but she hadn’t considered that his bed wasn’t here, probably through that door to her right.
“Sit down.” He gave her a wary look when she complied in an instant, plopping down on the black leather couch. Her hands in her lap played with her skirt as he rummaged through his cabinets. He came back with two different colored vials and set them on the coffee table before sitting on it. He was so close, still towering over her and their knees nearly touching.
“I will need you to answer some questions, can you do that for me?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Are you feeling anything that you wouldn’t normally feel? Attractions to people you never thought about?”
She thinks of her attraction to him and to Blaise, how she felt when he asked her about Ginny, how she didn’t feel when Harry touched her shoulder.
“No—no. I feel—“ She whimpered as another wave of electricity shot through her. He flushed, but quickly made his way closer to her, sitting almost on the edge of the coffee table. His gaze was… pure, as he pierced her with his eyes.
“You can tell me. What is it?”
“I was still—attracted, somewhat to Blaise—“
“Zabini?” He clenched his jaw.
“Yes—but then I felt nothing with Harry.”
Relief went through his body, jaw unclenching and his shoulders loosening their tension.
“Alright. The potion is not mind altering, then. Can you tell me how it feels?”
“I…I feel warm—hot. And my heart is beating too fast and…and…” She was embarrassed, this feeling between her legs that wouldn’t go away. Blushing, her eyes moved away from his to look at the floor.
Her chin was lifted, a bit unaware of the action at first but surprised once she saw it was his finger, drawing her eyes back to his.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand. Does it feel tingly?” She didn't know if the feeling became stronger because of the potion or because of his words. She swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded frantically.
“Yes, everywhere.”
“Alright. Take this potion and go back to your room.” He said as he handed her the red one. She tilted her head back, downing all of the content in one go, desperate to feel normal again. A drop of the potion slipped through her lips and she wiped it with her thumb without looking at him, but she did hear the low gasp from deep on his throat when she cleaned it.
When her eyes moved back to his, black and grey eyes pierced her skin.
He bit his lip before he spoke, hesitant almost. “I need to ask you something… personal, it's important for the potion to work, is that okay?.”
She nodded.
”Do you masturbate, Miss Granger?”
She wanted to be swallowed by the earth as much as she wanted him to keep asking his questions. Why did she feel like this?
“I— no, sir.”
Shock swam through his face, like he had expected her to say yes. She could see his jaw working, was it a bad thing?
“I’m so—sorry—“
He was taken aback by her apology but he bent down to look into her eyes, her own widening when his palms landed on her thighs.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. Wanna tell me why?” He said as he rubbed her over her clothes. Hermione didn't know why she felt a wave of trust go all over her at his words—maybe at his tone, but his concern seemed so genuine she wanted to cry.
She was timid when she finally answered.
“I don’t know how, Professor.”
“That won’t work, Miss Granger. The antidote needs stimulation to work. It will stop it from embedding even more in your system, but it will not take the symptoms away unless you… Take care of it”
“How—where can I—?”
“You will have to figure it out for yourself, Miss Granger.”
She nodded, swallowing another lump on her throat. She hated feeling helpless. The last time she felt this vulnerable was with bloody Bellatrix, but she would rather go through all that again before embarrassing herself even more in front of him.
“I’ll try, Professor.”
“Good girl. Now to bed. I want you to drink a big glass of water, alright? You need it after the effects of the potion.
“I will, sir.”
She stood up and left the room without any other word. On her way back, she didn't think about how his hands looked on her thighs, or how he absentmindedly rubbed circles on them. How his eyes bore into hers with concern, how his voice lowered when he spoke to her. And she most definitely didn’t think about how she felt on fire around him.
Before turning right for the Eighth common, she made a stop at the library. Using Harry’s cloak to sneak into the Restricted Section of the library she searched for those adult books she had found rummaging years ago but never felt the need to read.
That night, in the confines of her crimson and gold bedpost, she explored herself for the second time in her life. She noticed it was different from the last time, moisture pooled in between her legs and her finger slid easily, she didn't dare put a finger in the way the book explained, not after she tried and failed, finding a completely different cavity. She went higher after that, she found it more...swollen than the last time and a small sparkle erupted when she gently brushed her finger.
She wasn't able to find that spot again and went to bed, sad and frustrated. Thinking for the first time in her life that there was something she couldn’t do. Something she didn’t know.
If there was something Hermione Granger was good at, it was learning, and she knew just the best Professor for the job.
The following night, she knocked twice on the old wood and metal door and waited, the book she had found clutched in her arms, pressed tightly against her chest. Her quickening heartbeat echoed in the pages and went back inside her body, the anticipation was killing her. Studying the stone floors and walls, she focused her gaze everywhere else but the door, shifting her feet and anxiously tapping the book with her fingers.
She jumped when he finally opened it.
“Miss Granger, did it work?” Straight to the point, apparently. She was taken aback by the bluntness.
“A bit, thank you sir.”
“I told you not to call me sir.”
“Sorry, Professor.”
“You said a bit?”
“Erm— I went to the library…and I-I found some books but there weren’t any…pictures so I didn’t really know—“
“I see. I take it you didn’t… masturbate then?” She blushed and he smirked, just the smallest of curls on his lips.
“No, I actually—did try, but, well—erm. I don’t know how to ask this—but, erm—imightneedyoutoteachmeprofessor.”
His eyes widened and his grip tightened on the door frame. He swallowed loudly, blinking at her for a few seconds before speaking again.
“Teach you?”
“How to… take care of it, sir—Professor.”
“Why are you coming to me, Miss Granger?”
“Because you’re the only one I trust.”
His face morphed in surprise, brows high and mouth slightly agape.
“Do you think this is appropriate?” He seemed almost angry. Last night he had touched her and helped her. He was… willing and concerned, she wanted to think she was good at reading people and after hours and hours of thinking she was sure he…
“But last night—“
“Was inappropriate, Miss Granger. I apologize.” He looked away, clenching his jaw and she knew—she knew then that he wanted to. He might not have been as attracted to her as she was to him but he wanted to try at least. Try to teach her.
She lifted her chin, to make her seem taller or older.
“I’m a legal consenting adult, Professor. I fought a bloody war. I doubt this is inappropriate.”
“You are my student.”
“I will still be if you’re going to teach me.” He chuckled at this, not particularly amused.
“Yes, so I’ve heard.”
“Professor Malfoy, I willingly came back for Eighth year, I was promised liberties that regular students don't get. This is one of them.”
She saw him debating himself, his tongue poking his cheek as he studied her, eyes black as onyx as his mind worked through the possibilities, about how she just knocked on his door asking to teach her the things no one ever did, not even herself. His grey but very black eyes examined her from her to toe, his lip trapped between his teeth.
She knew how she looked. School skirt, shortened as a courtesy from Ginny a few weeks ago and a tight white shirt. Her school tie was perfectly placed, falling between her breasts, but covered by the book in her arms.
Loosening the tight hold on the door frame, he dropped his hand and motioned inside.
“We need rules.”
-
“Sit down.” He motioned for the black leather couch and Hermione complied, the book still clasped tightly against her chest. She might’ve been a true Gryffindor out there but now everything was looming over her and she felt her stomach make a leap.
Professor Malfoy sat on the table in front of her like the other day, gently taking the book from her arms and setting it down at the table.
She couldn’t help but swallow at his movements, everything he did was extremely careful and attractive.
Please kiss me, she thought. Instead, her brain betrayed her with some different words.
“You look very handsome today, Professor.” A wave of momentary confidence swam through her, unable to identify its source, but still aware of how hard her heart was beating.
His smile was genuine as he looked at her, but she could see the disbelief and surprise on his face.
“Thank you, Miss Granger.” He drawled and his voice got lower. Seductive, even, as he leaned forward. Her heart started beating even faster and her breathing got ragged, the small anticipation rapidly turning into tension.
This was it, this was happening.
“What is it, sweetheart?” He whispered, leaning even closer, her heart made a leap and she averted her gaze to the floor.
“Rule number one.” He took her chin on his hand, lifting her eyes to his. “You are to look into my eyes at all times.”
She nodded and focused on the dark black pupils inside his grey eyes. He had pretty long lashes and the whole sight was… ethereal.
“Rule number two, you always give me verbal confirmation. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Professor,” She whispered, the sound barely leaving her lips. Soon, she found them covered by his thumb, gently brushing and parting them as he held her chin to level her face to his eyes.
“Good girl.” He murmured, his gaze seemed lost in her face, in her lips. The shaking of his head was imperceptible but it was there, bringing him back to focus.
“Rule number three, you’ll always address me with Professor. Now you’re allowed to call me sir, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to tell me exactly what you expect from this. No blushing like a little girl, Miss Granger.”
She blushed anyway, but how could she not when he was hot and so straightforward.
“I don’t know, I—I liked how I felt with the potion, but only when I was around you. I’d never—ever, sir. And—and afterwards when I went to my room and I couldn’t—I didn't even know…”
She let the words hang and swallowed a rebel sob that had formed in her throat. She wanted to be normal. To know and feel these things. She couldn’t hide the water in her eyes and she closed them, opening only when the couch dipped next to her, a single arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other one caressing her thigh.
“Shhh. It's okay, you don’t have to say it. I can take care of you, Miss Granger.” He whispered to her head. She didn’t sob, she didn’t weep but she shook against his chest. The thought of denying the comfort he was giving her impossible to fathom.
When Hermione finally looked up she saw the most honest looking eyes she had ever seen.
“You want to take care of me?” She whispered and the hand on her shoulders came to rest at the back of her neck.
“Of course I do, sweetheart. That's why you're here, after all, isn't it?” He whispered back, scanning her face and she believed him. She truly did.
“Do you want me to take the lead, Miss Granger?” She wouldn’t want anything more than that.
“Please, sir.”
“Alright…” He tucked a rebel curl behind her ear. “We are starting slow. I’m the one to decide when you are ready for more. Rule number four. If you don't like something and wish to stop you’ll say “red”, is that understood?
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Now, come sit on my lap.” Her wary eyes pierced his grey ones, she saw a sincerity behind them, honesty so true it made her body ache for the proximity.
Sitting back on the couch, he patted his legs for her to sit on. She sat allowing her legs to dangle over the side of his, the side of her body against his chest. He held her by the waist and the rubbing of her back would’ve made her want to sleep if it weren’t for the anticipation that erupted from within her.
“Is this okay, pet?” He whispered against her ear and she nodded, resting her side even closer against his chest.
“Words, Miss Granger.” His tone was firmer, even more than the one he used in class.
“Yes, Professor.”
He rubbed her back for what felt like hours, his other hand innocently and even respectfully set on her thigh. Hermione pushed her hair back and glanced at him from under her lashes, only to find him already staring at her.
She wanted him to kiss her. She yearned for Professor Malfoy to kiss her. So badly, so desperately. He seemed to have read her mind.
“Have any boys ever kissed you before, sweetheart?” He whispered. She had only been kissed once. Viktor Krum. He was sloppy and his tongue had left her face wet afterwards, she had only moved her lips as best as she was able, not really knowing how to properly do it. Her partener unable to explain to her.
“Once, sir.” He shifted in his seat, accommodating her closer to him.
“Who was it?” He asked, eyes glistening with an emotion Hermione could swear was anger.
“Viktor Krum, sir.”
“Where did he touch you?” He demanded, his traveling from her back to her hip, still over her clothes. The way his voice sounded when he spoke to her, hushed and quiet tones. Alluring noises she couldn't have heard if it weren't for the proximity.
“Just…my back and neck, sir.”
“Here? Did he touch you here?” He murmured as the hand on her thigh abandoned its position. A single finger met the skin on her neck, right under her jaw and lightly, so very lightly brushed it. She gasped under his calloused finger, the way It hovered over her skin making it tickle and shiver, right at the base of her neck. But most importantly, she felt electricity, a sparkle between her legs, similar to what she felt last night, her hips shifting on his lap, thighs rubbing together instinctively. He smiled faintly as he moved to her cheek.
“What are you feeling, Miss Granger?”
His fingers moving to her lips, just touching. The tip of his index trying to make its way between them only to draw back to brush the corner of her lip.
“I—It’s tingly. Like sparkles, sir.”
“Where?”
“Erm—in… in between my legs, sir.”
“Are you afraid of saying cunt, Miss Granger?” She gasped at the candour of his words, ever so...arousing.
Touching her inner thigh lightly, he buried his face in her neck for a brief moment before focusing his eyes on hers again.
“I don’t know, Professor.”
“We’ll work on that…” he murmured, brushing the hair that had escaped over shoulder.
“You are very beautiful, Miss Granger…”
She almost melted on his lap.
“Really, sir?”
“Mmh… so beautiful it makes me want to give you kisses all over your pretty little lips.” She gulped, scanning her eyes over his face like he was doing to hers.
“Will you, sir? Kiss me?”
“Do you want me to?” She could only nod, teeth biting her lower lip.
“None of that.” His thumb drew her lip down, freeing it from the trap.
“Only I get to bite your lips from now on, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She whispered, his eyes swimming through her face, from eyes to cheeks, from nose to lips.
The anticipation was annihilating as he pushed forward, trapping her lower lip between his just as he had promised, she sighed against him. The kiss wasn’t brief, it wasn’t a small peck against her lips, rather, it felt like a promise, lasting and persistent. His lips were warm against hers and just slightly wet, his tongue wasn’t touching her but he moved his lips over hers slowly, just a touch—a caress of her lips.
The smile against her mouth was more than enough for her to keep going. The inexperience weighing on her shoulders like a burden suddenly forgotten, replaced by the feeling of him against her. The intensifying feeling between her legs, pulsating and tingling.
As every good thing, it came to an end, but Hermione refused, gripping the neck of his shirt tightly against her fingers and bringing him closer.
“More, sir. Please.” She pleaded.
An unidentifiable emotion shifted behind his eyes as he swallowed loud enough for her to hear. She knew he wanted it too. That Professor Malfoy wanted her . It could’ve been inappropriate or wrong but it felt as if nothing in this world could be more decent.
He pulled the back of her neck and drew her closer so he could capture her lips between his, no more nipping or small pecks but rather a full, grown up kiss. One in which his lips covered hers and his tongue swiped lightly over them. Trying to catch up with his rhythm—much more experienced and determined— she mimicked the way his tongue brushed against her lips and what his teeth did to her, the tilt of his head and the speed of his lips. He seemed to have noticed her intentions, because instead of drawing back he kissed her unhurriedly, teaching her in slow motions how to move her lips and tongue, what to do to make it feel good and she learned, trying oh so hard to memorize how he moved and danced against her. When he noticed she was figuring him out, he started kissing her harder and faster, like he needed something from her to breathe.
Turning more heated by the second, he grabbed her thigh and pulled her closer, mumbling against her lips. “Miss Granger.”
“Yes?” She mumbled back.
Hermione was dizzy with want and need, she didn't even notice not addressing him by sir or Professor. He didn't notice either.
“You are a fast learner.” He chuckled against her lips and kissed her again, his hands all over her. She kept kissing him too, and even dared to unclasp her hands from the neck of his shirt to roam them over his shoulders but he had other ideas in mind.
“Miss Granger, straddle my lap.” His tone was firm, the one she liked, ordering her around.
She moved away at his words and stared at him, chest heavy with ragged breaths and eyes glassy from the disorientation, unhinged after losing herself in him.
She did as he said.
Her thighs falling on each side of him, balanced by her hands on his shoulder.
She lowered herself and she felt it . His hardness between her legs, pressing where it tingled.
“ Oh .” She gasped and he chuckled at this, briefly smirking at her.
“What's wrong?” He asked feigning innocence.
“I—I feel…” She felt his penis , as clinical as it sounded, and the new and unusual sensation between her legs became more insistent. She bit her lip to prevent something stupid from coming out of her mouth.
“My cock, Miss Granger?” She blushed at the crassness of his words and covered her eyes in an attempt to hide it. She knew it only made it worse when he forced her hands away from her face, taking both of them in his own and bringing them closer to his mouth, dropping a lingering kiss to her knuckles.
“Nothing to be embarrassed of. Are you still feeling tingly, Miss Granger?”
“Mmhh.”
“What else do you feel?”
“It…it’s hot and—and moist or—wet. Like last night”
“Inside your knickers, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir. Its—uncomfortable…” She whimpered.
“Yeah? Have you ever felt it before?”
“N-no, sir.”
“You get wet because you are aroused, Miss Granger. Physical reaction to attraction. Are you attracted to me, Miss Granger?” She wasn’t afraid to say she was, more embarrassing things had happened to her in the last twenty four hours.
“I am, sir. I-I like your c-ock, sir.” She murmured, the sound barely leaving her lips. Daring to be better for him.
“You like how it feels between your thighs?” He whispered, cradling her cheek with his palm, lightly brushing his finger against her skin and she leaned into his touch.
“Yes, sir. It aches a bit but it’s good.”
He chuckled. “Want me to show you how to make it feel even better, sweetheart?”
“Mmhh. Please, sir.”
“‘Merlin, you sound so pretty when you beg for me. Give me a kiss.” She does. She gives him a kiss, sweet and tender to his cheek and he grins, chuckling against her ear when he pulls her closer by her hair.
“You cheeky brat. Do what I tell you or I'm going to give you detention. Is that what you want?” A strict tone left his mouth and for a moment she got scared.
“No, sir. I’ll be good.” His eyes softened at her words and he brushed her cheek.
“That's it. I want you to kiss me this time. Show me how you kiss. Can you do that for me?
“Yes, sir.”
She moved her face closer to his, their lips a breath away as she gently pressed her lips to his.
That’s all it took for him to buck his hips against hers and her mouth made a sound born deep inside of her, one she was unable to stop.
“O-oh.”
“Was that good?” He breathed, his mouth hovering over her ear and she nodded back.
“Words, Miss Granger.”
“It was, sir.”
“Move your hips for me, sweetheart.” He whispered, looking down to where their bodies met. His hands moved to her hips, nails digging into her skin and gently rocking her forwards. It felt… delicious. Her heart started beating faster, trying to search for that sparkle, looking for that pleasure he was teaching her how to get. She finally found a rhythm that made her feel good, unable to move her gaze from his face—his beautiful, carved-like-marble face. He didn't know she was looking at him, too engrossed in their joined hips, covered by her skirt.
“There you go, Miss Granger. Grind down… That's it… Grind down.” Slightly unfocused, he murmured the words of encouragement, almost to himself. A sound left her mouth and she covered it with her hand, eyes shut closed.
“None of that, sweetheart.” He moved the hand on her mouth and another sound—a moan escaped her lips.
Her body started undulating harder against his, bracing her arms on the back of the couch and grinding her hips against his. He hissed or breathed out in her ear when she went even harder, his hands gripping her hips and sliding down her thighs.
A small shiver ran down her spine when he untucked the white shirt from her skirt and finally touched her skin. It felt ablaze and hot, her body starting to feel slick with sweat under his hands. His hand splayed against her back covering it broadly, up and down movements and circles against her skin, not a single corner left untouched. Feeling safe and protected in his arms, like never before, Hermione buried her face deeper in his neck. She realised how small she felt under his hands, and how small she felt even above him.
“Keep grinding yourself against me. Do you feel it?” She did. All over her body, an overwhelming electricity that curled her toes and loosened her vocal cords, not able to control the sounds coming out of it anymore.
“Mmh. I-I do.” She moaned at the feel of his lips sucking on her neck, he hadn’t done that yet and the spots he was taking care of felt explosive.
“Explain it to me.”
“I-It’s…like tight, sir. My belly is—it's like there’s a knot sir. And—and between my legs it’s so tingly, sir. I c-can’t…” She stuttered and dragged her words, barely able to form a coherent sentence. When something between her legs shifted and a shot of pleasure went all over her, she felt the urge to use the loo, similar to what she had been feeling all this time but more insistent—persistent. She stopped the movement of her hips.
“Professor?” She buried her face in the crook of his neck again and her words were muffled against his skin.
“Don't stop moving.” He dug his nails in her thighs and she was grindingly again, slowly—barely moving. “What is it?”
“I think I need to use the loo.” She whispered and she heard him chuckle, moving his hands on her back and pulling her tighter to him. He dropped his head back against the couch so he was staring right into her eyes.
“Oh no, sweetheart.” He tucked a hair behind her ear, only to fall back over her shoulders. Grabbing it with both his hands, he gathered her hair between his fingers and tilted her head back slightly.
“That is because you need to release. That tight little knot on your belly?” He dropped one hand from her hair and pointed down, his knuckles grazing her lower stomach, stil covered by all of her clothes. “You need to relax and let it go. Can you do that for me?” Crimson spread on her cheeks as he said it.
“I—, sir?” She asked, because there was something missing inside of her, knowledge and experience.
“I want you to keep grinding.” She did it. “That's it. I don't want you to seek it, let it come to you.” Her mouth and voice, so uncontrollable as the sounds coming from them, new ones that she hadn’t made before.
“You sound so pretty, sweetheart. Don't hold back.” She didn't. Her mouth felt dry from the ragged breaths and sounds coming out of it but she kept them going. Her legs started to shake outside of his thighs, opening and closing, almost sliding against him. Her head and body fell back in euphoria, his hands flying to her back to steady her.
“I got you, don't stop. Let your legs shake and let it go.”
It overtook her body like a shot spell, her legs shaking tightly and her whole body freezing in ecstasy, a wave of pleasure never felt by her before that curled her toes and hands, her fingers gripping his shoulders so tight she would probably leave marks. She couldn’t stop the moan that left her, Professor sighed from her mouth.
“Fuck, sweetheart. So good—“ He whispered.
Her head had fallen on his shoulder, unable to move away as the pleasure took over her. She couldn’t make out his figure under her, overwhelmingly lost in this pleasure. She heard him moan against her ear when another feminine noise left her throat .
“There you go.” Another moan. “You did it, Miss Granger.” She barely heard him, his words muffled by her own moans that never seemed to stop.
They did, eventually. They faded away and she lifted her head to look back to his face, tilted back against the couch. His skin was flushed and his hair all over his head, she could almost make out the shape of the fingers she didn’t remember running through it.
“I- sir… it felt—I… it felt so good sir.” She whimpered as her body still shook with pleasure.
“I know, Miss Granger. You just had an orgasm…” He whispered, rubbing her back.
“I-I had an orgasm, sir?” She thinks her face and hair must be a mess, with the way he just couldn’t stop looking at her. She buried her head in his shoulder to hide it but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he kissed her neck for the second time today but in a relaxing manner, just sweetly brushing her skin with his lips.
His hands were still low on her back and she felt him shift under her as they stayed silent, catching their breaths. It was hot between her thighs, both inside her knickers and out of them, the hardness she had felt all this time replaced by soft fabric. Wet fabric.
She glanced down and her brow furrowed. He was smiling at her, never stopping the rubbing on her back. “You made me release, too, Miss Granger. Very good job.” He smirked again. How… ?
“I did? How, sir?” His eyes went black at her words and his hands gripped her tighter as he moved to her lips, leaning forward so that their mouths barely touched.
“A lesson for another time, sweetheart.” he mumbled against her lips before lazily kissing her.
When they finally broke apart he moved his hands away from her back and cleared his throat . “Stand up for me, please.”
She complied, her stiff and weak legs almost buckled, sending her to the floor if it hadn’t been for him, gripping them tightly from his seat.
“Come back. Put your legs to the side.” She did as he said, her arm wrapped around his shoulder for balance and his hand on her back for stability.
“That's it, let's stay like this until your legs work again, is that okay?” He commanded, but also asked . She nodded, not trusting her words yet. Her body felt spent and tired, she swore she could sleep for days after this. The tiredness so different from mere sleeplessness. But she wanted to do it again. She wanted to keep feeling what the girls in the Eighth talked about, to learn what she didn’t know and she wanted him to teach her. Her mind drifted away and he noticed, his finger under her chin forcing her eyes on his.
“Want to tell me how you feel, Miss Granger?” He asked, their faces ever so close. Amazing .
“I feel so good, sir. I-I want…”
“Yes?”
“Iwanttokeepcomingback.” She mumbled and his response was a brief smile, his gaze down and focused on her chest, his fingers playing with her tie as he spoke.
“As many times as you need, sweetheart.” He murmured slightly unfocused, without meeting her eyes.
“Thank you, sir.” His eyes snapped to hers and she saw them glistening, not tears but something she would call adoration, until she could find a better one.
“You’re welcome, Miss Granger.”
“I think I need to go back to my room.” She murmured reluctantly but without taking her eyes off him. He cleared his throat, letting her go.
She stood up and his hands moved to her waist, tucking her shirt back into her skirt. She wanted to kiss him again, but with the arousal gone, her mind was embarrassed of the things she hadn’t been a while ago.
“Right. Be careful. Don’t get caught, yes?” He said, standing up and guiding her to the door with his hand on her back.
“No, sir.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He smiled, leaning his shoulder on the door frame. Crimson spread through her cheeks as she bid him goodnight with a kiss to his cheek. He blushed a little, too.
The corridor was dark except for a few torches in the walls, she was about to start walking when he spoke again.
“And.. Miss Granger? Not a word.” His tone firm, back to Professor Malfoy.
She didn’t know how she got to the common room, how or when she said the password. She didn’t remember getting into her nightclothes, changing her knickers or covering herself with the grey blankets.
The only thing she remembered was grey eyes and a warm smile, embedded on the back of her eyelids and hopeful she would be able to see them again.