Chapter Text
“It’s incredibly common to not have an orgasm your first time,” Hannah Abbott said with a confident shrug.
Pansy Parkinson was quick to snort in disapproval as she rolled her eyes. “Then he didn’t do it right.”
The quip made the other girls in the Eighth Year Common Room burst out laughing as Hannah’s face grew a stark shade of red.
Hermione let out a huff of disapproval at both the conversation and their crassness from her seat outside of the small circle of girls at the center of the lounge. “Honestly, Pansy. Everyone’s first time is different. There’s nothing wrong with not having that happen.”
Pansy exchanged a look with Daphne Greengrass before both girls broke into another fit of laughter. “This just in: Weasley can’t satisfy Granger in bed.”
It was Hermione’s turn to blush fiercely.
Her relationship with Ron had been, for all intents and purposes, a label maintained for the press and nothing more. It had become clear after several non-life-threatening snogging sessions that the spark they’d previously felt in the Chamber of Secrets had been no more than a consequence of the moment at hand.
Romantically, they’d parted ways during the summer but decided to let the label fizzle out quietly instead of making a public statement. At that moment, Hermione found herself wishing she’d chosen the latter.
“That isn’t what I’m saying at all!” she squeaked out, closing the book she had been reading, smashing the pages together a touch harder than necessary. “I’m just saying that it doesn’t always happen, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Padma nodded in response, quick to come to Hermione’s aid. “It’s true. Nothing spectacular happened my first time. Every time after that, however…” She trailed off with a suggestive smirk that drew all of the girls in with bated breath.
“Well?” Hannah urged expectantly.
“Let’s just say I saw a few more stars than the average person up in the Astronomy Tower a few weeks ago.”
The room erupted into giggles and squeals at Padma’s confession.
“That’s nothing! Talk to me once you’ve been shagged in the greenhouse during a study period,” Pansy said coolly, leaning back against the couch as she spoke.
Daphne’s brows furrowed at Pansy’s disclosure. “Who did you shag in the greenhouse?”
Pansy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugged. “Someone else go. You lot are too delicate to hear the rest of my escapades around this castle.”
And so began the impromptu confessional.
Hermione attempted to return to her book but found herself straddling the line between feeling amazed and horrified at the sexual antics her classmates had engaged in during their years at Hogwarts. Losing their virginities was one thing, but her eyebrows continued to rise higher and higher as they listed off the various acts they’d committed on school grounds.
“Someone went down on me in the Potion Stores during my Head Girl rounds.”
“Once, I snuck McLaggen into the Prefect bathroom for two hours. The man may be a prat, but he has stamina.”
“You wouldn’t believe how hot it is to let a Quidditch player have his way with you on a broom mid-flight.”
“The Restricted Section of the library is surprisingly soundproof. I can’t count the number of times I’ve—”
Hermione scoffed at the visual, effectively cutting off Daphne’s admission of desecrating the library with her late-night trysts. The interruption landed four sets of eyes on Hermione, making her clamp a hand over her mouth at the involuntary noise of disapproval she’d made.
Padma glared at the other girls, who were on the verge of snickering again. “What about you, Hermione? Surely you’ve got a good story or two to share, right?”
Between studying and working to save the Wizarding World for the last few years, sex of any kind had been the furthest thing from Hermione’s mind…but she wasn’t about to share that detail with this group. Hermione feigned a yawn and closed her book as she stood. “I’m not one to kiss and tell. On that note, I think I’ll be turning in.”
The other girls were quick to dismiss Hermione’s departure in favor of exchanging more details of their clandestine hook-ups.
As she left the Common Room and went to the Eighth Year dorms, Hermione reflected on her last few years at Hogwarts. There had been a few moments through her schooling that had felt notable enough to recount: A couple of less-than-innocent kisses with Viktor Krum during Fourth Year and the snogs she’d shared with Ron during their brief coupling came to mind.
There was also the jealousy-fueled kiss she’d shared with Cormac during Sixth Year, but she cringed at the thought of including it given how over-eager he’d been to participate. The amount of tongue he’d used was still enough to make her blanch despite the statement made by one of the girls earlier that evening.
All that to say, her experience regarding pleasure and discovery had been limited, and those limits had been rather confining. Her perception of sex had been restricted to the scientific act of it: sex was for creating new life and was often done as a gesture of romantic summation.
Sure, it could be done in other circumstances—her classmates had more than supported that claim with their confessions— but the idea that so many options and variations could be used to make the pleasure of it all even more agreeable for those involved seemed to unmoor Hermione’s understanding. Between the locations, positions, names, and word choice involved, she struggled to grasp that she knew nothing about an entire topic despite previously feeling like she had a solid understanding of it.
However, Hermione was no stranger to pleasure. While her interaction with it came in the form of self-pleasure, she was familiar with the sensation and desire to seek it out as a means of stress relief or, on occasion, entertainment. Once again, though, the tales of her classmates left her questioning her knowledge on this subject. Was it possible that she was also falling short in the category of getting herself off?
As she rounded the landing into her bedroom, Hermione cast a few wordless locks on the door and a silencing charm for good measure. While she was never particularly vocal when it came to indulging herself, the peace of mind the privacy offered her was helpful. With so few Eighth Year students returning to Hogwarts, most had been awarded their own bedroom under the agreement that they’d take up patrolling duties throughout the year to help keep other students in line. Hermione was more than willing to agree after spending the last seven years in close quarters.
With the fodder from the evening’s conversation at the forefront of her mind, Hermione challenged herself to take an adventurous approach to her nighttime routine.
She changed into a pajama set that, in her mind, felt like it had a smidge of sex appeal and then gave herself a once over in the mirror. Did other women check themselves out? Was she supposed to exude sex appeal? Or were the clothes she put on meant to do the heavy lifting?
As with each "self-care" session, Hermione settled under her covers and let her eyes fall shut. She didn’t imagine anything in particular—was she meant to?— as her hand slipped below the elastic of her sleep shorts and under the edge of her knickers.
Her routine was the same each time. She knew exactly what felt good to her and how to get herself to the release she sought. It was efficient, but was that what she should be aiming for?
A few teasing swirls with her middle finger.
A slow swipe up the length of her slit.
One and then two fingers slowly pushing into her heat at a carefully crafted rhythm.
It was always the same and worked well enough for Hermione. It was easy for her to fall into the tingling waves of pleasure that built in her lower belly as she settled into a pace that left her breath coming in shallow pants. When her orgasm came a minute later, it was a small swell that sent a gentle flair of warmth through her body.
Despite the release, her face tugged into an unmistakable frown.
She found it hard to believe that the feeling she’d just experienced was what all the girls in the Common Room had been raving about. Surely, there was more to it than that.
With a wordless scourgify, Hermione cleaned off her hand and knickers before flopping onto her stomach, letting a resounding groan echo into her pillow.
There was something so off-putting to her about the situation. Not only did she not know something, but she didn’t know what it was that she didn’t know. She knew there had to be more to sex and pleasure than what she was already familiar with, but the longer she thought about it, the more her mind started to spiral.
Would her first time be as uneventful as Hannah said it would be? Was Pansy right in saying that a lack of orgasm just meant that the partner she’d gone to bed with wasn’t as well-versed? Were there things she should or shouldn’t be doing to make it more pleasurable for all parties involved? If so, what were those things?
The thought of sexual pleasure and how different it could be with more experience occupied Hermione’s mind for the next several days.
She sat through Potions classes and study hall sessions, dwelling on what aspects of intimacy she didn’t understand, working a near-permanent crease into her brow as she tried to unwrap the new problem she’d been presented with.
It was almost amusing to her how she’d somehow managed to regress into having the mind of a teenage boy with how often she found herself thinking about sex. However, should someone with the gift of Legilimency infiltrate her mind, they’d see that her thoughts were fixated more on the logistics of sex itself and how satisfaction could be guaranteed to a level beyond the minor wave she’d been privy to.
After three days, she’d found that these thoughts had devolved from the act itself to the various things that mattered most to her when seeking pleasure with another person.
While her knowledge on the subject was limited, Hermione knew she wanted intimacy with another person to go beyond the small swell she was familiar with. She deserved something grand and earth-shattering and was determined to do whatever was necessary to bring that to fruition.
That evening, Hermione broke out a quill and began writing a list of all the pleasurable things she’d heard of or was curious about, trying to help her narrow down what she’d like to experience. She’d included some of the more preliminary aspects of intimacy, such as love bites and light petting, as well as some things that made her blush to even put down on parchment.
She ended up with a list of eight acts that culminated with the final item:
Seeing it written out felt far more clinical than perhaps intended, but given the amount of time she’d spent thinking about these acts and pleasure as a whole, she supposed it was slightly clinical.
As she reflected on the list, an idea began to formulate. What if the list was less of a collection of her curiosities but rather a checklist of things to experience to help make losing her virginity something memorable and awe-inspiring?
It could be an experiment of sorts to help her figure out what she did and didn’t like.
She hummed as she began scribbling out a question at the top of her page like a hypothesis on a research project:
Question: What sexual acts does Hermione Granger find to be the most enjoyable, and which should be utilized to ensure losing her virginity is a pleasurable experience?
It may have been the hour of night, but the observation at the top of her list tapped into the scientific part of Hermione’s brain— the part of her that hungered for knowledge and answers— and she found herself surprisingly excited and even a little aroused over putting an experiment like this to the test.
As she went to bed that night, she let her hands slip between her thighs as she imagined the various elements on her list being brought to life and, for the first time, felt something more than a soft swell as she clenched around her fingers.
Interesting.
Hermione’s list burned a hole in her pocket as she went through her classes the next day. She repeated each of the eight items in the back of her head, considering the seed that had been planted following her orgasm the night before. As she sat down for a late lunch in the Great Hall, she belatedly concluded that this may have been her least productive week of school in the history of her education.
True as that may be, she had made considerable progress on a different type of education and found the research on the matter quite engrossing.
As a woman who valued education, Hermione knew that if she were to test out the theory she’d written at the top of her list, she’d need to find someone who could provide unbiased results. She scanned her eyes around the Great Hall in search of suitable options.
Many of the students who had returned for their Eighth Year were people Hermione considered close friends. While that had the potential to make the experiment slightly more comfortable, the risk of damaged friendships or having overtly embarrassing moments was far too high for her to subject herself to.
Considering someone from the year below her was an option, but she hadn’t fostered nearly a strong enough relationship with any of them to ensure they’d keep this experiment a secret. The last thing she needed was for word to get out that she was arranging some kind of sexual test in the name of losing her virginity.
No, it would need to be someone with little interest in her or her affairs.
The Great Hall was mostly empty. Most students had wrapped up their lunches nearly an hour prior, giving her a much smaller crowd to choose from. Across the way, her vision lingered on a downcast head; the student’s eyes focused on pushing food around on his plate while his mind was elsewhere.
Draco Malfoy.
The longer she watched Draco from across the way, the more she couldn’t help but consider his efficacy in fulfilling the role she sought to fill.
Although she hadn’t experienced it firsthand, she’d heard whispers of Draco’s reformation and change of heart following the war's end.
In compliance with the amnesty The Wizengamot granted him following his trial, Draco returned to Hogwarts to finish his education. To the surprise of nearly everyone, he’d kept to himself almost exclusively upon his return. On occasion, Draco could be seen with his former Slytherin friends but had put some distance between them and himself in favor of his newly adopted pensive demeanor.
Hermione had noticed how he’d focused more on his academics and was even surprised to see his name appear on the roster of Eighth Year students tasked with doing rounds in exchange for a private bedroom.
By all accounts, Draco seemed to have shed some of his ill-advised beliefs in favor of turning over a new leaf. She couldn’t help but wonder if that fresh start included a willingness to help a curious witch with an even more curious quest for knowledge.
He wasn’t her friend. His morals seemed to be relatively neutral. She had a strong inkling that he’d stay silent on the subject in favor of not wanting to draw any necessary attention to him.
Draco wasn’t her favorite choice by any means, but from a scientific perspective, Hermione couldn’t deny that he seemed the most logical.
Her feet carried her over to the Slytherin table before her mind decided to explore other options.
She saddled up beside Draco and stood there, looking down at him with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for him to look her way. Draco tensed at her presence but opted to ignore her for the time being, instead electing to roll a few peas around his plate and settle further into his seat.
She gave him a few moments to pay her mind, but when he didn’t, she cleared her throat to grab his attention.
With a sigh, Draco finally spoke. “Granger.”
“Malfoy,” she returned matter-of-factly.
Draco looked up at her, his blond fringe falling back into place from the shift in positioning. Other than occasionally seeing him in the hall, Hermione hadn’t seen him up close. Like with most of her peers, Draco looked older and a little aged but surprisingly rested with the distance from the war.
“Can I help you?” he asked, a hint of bored apathy in his voice.
She couldn’t help but think that this may have been the most civil start to a conversation she had ever had with Draco. Already, it felt like this experiment was off to a promising start.
“Yes, actually. I had a favor to ask.”
Hermione could sense his skepticism. It was practically written across his face in the way his brows furrowed. Draco abandoned the meal in front of him and angled his body to face her before begrudgingly gesturing for her to continue.
In her most practical tone—as it was a practical ask, after all—Hermione posed her request:
“I’d like for you to have sex with me.”
While her words had been spoken at a low volume to maintain privacy, the sputtering that came from Draco at her ask garnered more than a few curious eyes within the Great Hall. “Pardon?”
Hermione grimaced, put out by the repetition. “I said I’d like you to—”
Draco rose abruptly and grabbed her by the elbow, cutting off her sentence. “I heard you. I just—”
He sighed heavily and stole a glance around the room, seeming to decide that far too many people were present to have the rest of their conversation as she intended. Draco tugged her out of the hall and into a nearby alcove before she could object, giving her a look of pained exasperation. “Have you lost your mind?”
Hermione pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I have not,” she said, a heavy frown tugging on her face at the accusation. “Thank you very much.”
“Oh! Good!” Draco said with an incredulous laugh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stared down at her. “Please enlighten me then on what could have possessed you to make such an offer, Granger. Because you sound absolutely mental.”
It may have been a little mental. She’d give him that. But her reasoning was sound. With a steadying breath, Hermione revealed her predicament to Draco. “As it would seem, I am rather… uneducated when it comes to the topics of pleasure and other promiscuous activities and want to change that.”
Draco leaned against the wall, his expression morphing into confusion. “So you’re coming to me instead of that red-headed prat you call a boyfriend? Is the Weasel not doing it for you in the bedroom?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she groaned. “And I’m not asking him because he isn’t my boyfriend. I’m asking you because I don’t want feelings or friendships to complicate my plan. Unfortunately, that makes you one of the best options.”
“Your plan?”
A faint blush tinged her cheeks as she thought about the words that needed to leave her lips. While the idea seemed great in theory, having to actually proposition someone like Draco into having sex with her left her cringing.
Draco took the silence as a cue to leave and began walking away.
“Wait!” she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back into the alcove.
He arched a brow at her, impatiently waiting for her to continue.
With a hefty sigh, Hermione pressed on. “I want my first time having sex to be enjoyable, but I have no clue what I like and don’t like, so I wanted to try some things—” she pulled out the list, flashing it to him briefly— “to help narrow it down to ensure that when I lose my virginity, it’ll be a good experience.”
She didn’t have much familiarity with interpreting Draco’s mannerisms or emotions. It was rare to see him with anything other than a look of apathy or the trace of a sneer, but Hermione could have sworn she saw him pale at her proposition for a moment. He remained silent as her words hung in the space between them, face reticent and unreadable.
This was a terrible idea. What had she been thinking going to Draco Malfoy, of all people? Hermione quickly swept through the other candidates in her head, resigning herself to trying elsewhere.
“You know what? Forget I said anything at all. I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she said as she straightened out her uniform and moved to leave. “You’re friends with Theo Nott still, right? Do you think he’d be interested in helping me?”
The mention of Theo nearly made Draco’s eyes bulge out. “Granger, what the fuck—”
His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his expression rife with disbelief and seemingly at a loss over the entire conversation she had presented him with.
“Fine,” he said after a concerningly long silence, eyes cast to the ceiling with thinly veiled ire. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m not trying to twist your arm, Malfoy. If you don’t want to, that’s alright,” Hermione grumbled.
At her words, he cleared his throat and met her gaze. Hermione watched as whatever emotions he had harbored on the subject were tucked away, leaving a stoic expression in its wake. “You’re not. I’m just— this is not how I envisioned my Thursday going.”
She studied him for a moment longer before nodding in acceptance.
Another long silence passed between them, and she mentally cursed herself for not choosing someone she’d at least spoken to positively on more than one occasion. This would be a lengthy experiment if they couldn’t even fill the silence with casual pleasantries.
“Aren’t you going to—”
“When would you like—”
Hermione let out a nervous laugh as their words landed on top of one another.
Draco gestured toward her with a shake of his head. “You first.”
“Aren’t you going to ask for anything in return? I’m happy to offer any sort of compensation for your time given how much of it is focused on… my pleasure and all that.”
“For Salazar’s—” Draco’s eyes grew wide again as he let out a heady breath, seemingly taxed beyond measure at the mention of the specifics regarding her experiment. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Hermione couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face as the reality set in that she’d get to navigate this experiment. The idea of learning and understanding something she had such limited knowledge of sent a wave of excitement through her. Not to mention the potentially new feelings and experiences she'd get to live out that she'd only heard of or read about in books. “Perfect! What were you going to ask?”
Draco returned to his collected disposition once more. “When would you like to start?”
She clasped her hands before her, shifting to a slightly more academic tone. “Well, I need to finish assembling my research materials and then draw up a formalized document for us to review tonight, so how does tomorrow sound? We can meet in the Room of Requirement tomorrow evening to go over the rules and details of the experiment. Sound good?”
Hermione punctuated her sentence by extending a hand to Draco, intent on sealing their deal with a formal handshake.
Draco’s bemused expression returned as he placed his hand in hers. “Sure, Granger. Tomorrow works.”
“Excellent,” she said with a satisfied nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Hermione left the alcove, feeling surprisingly optimistic about the outcome of her proposition. In her opinion, it couldn’t have gone better. As she walked away, she began to make a list in her head of everything she’d need to do to prepare over the next thirty or so hours to make sure she’d give her experiment as strong of a start as possible.
Given the conversation's success, she hadn’t considered looking back at Draco as she headed into the Great Hall.
Had she done so, she would have seen the man—usually proud and postured—standing with his knees buckled, barely able to stabilize himself against the wall where she’d left him as he reeled over the fact that Hermione Granger had just propositioned him with partaking in what was easily his greatest and most long-held secret fantasy.
The opportunity to sleep with Hermione had fallen into Draco’s lap, and he couldn’t be any more stressed or thrilled by the unbelievable luck.