Five Times Draco Malfoy Accidentally Apparated into Hermione Granger's Bed...

And the One

Time He Meant To
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47054656.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Crookshanks (Harry Potter)
Additional Tags: POV Draco Malfoy, 5 Times, Apparating (Harry Potter), Potions Master
Draco Malfoy, Wizengamot (Harry Potter), Fluff and Smut, Shameless
Smut, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Matchmaker
Crookshanks (Harry Potter), Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What
Epilogue | EWE, Dirty Thoughts
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-05-09 Words: 10,975 Chapters: 1/1
 Five Times Draco Malfoy Accidentally Apparated into Hermione
Granger's Bed... And the One Time He Meant To
by thefrancakes

Summary

Draco’s breath hitches. He’s close to that sweet release that will make this day better. He’s
falling into the deepness of the sort of orgasm that will melt his body and allow him to relax
enough to finally sleep.

His bed is dark but welcoming, without so many goddamn pillows. It’s not the fluffy mess of
clouds that Granger’s is, even if he’d like to put one of those pillows under her hips as he
fucked her.

Dammit. He needs to stop thinking about her soft bed. He needs to stop thinking about
Granger at all. He’s so hard, it hurts, even with his hand on himself, chasing release. He
needs to–

"Malfoy, did you just Apparate into my bed?!"

Notes

Thank you ChelsieWhitlock and LilMissShortBee for beta reading this word vomit ❤️
See the end of the work for more notes

Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: 德拉科 · 马尔福五次意外地幻影显形到赫敏 · 格

兰杰的床上......以及他故意为之的那次 by MangoPomelo
Translation into Русский available: Пять случайных трансгрессий Драко Малфоя в постель
Гермионы Грейнджер... И одна — намеренная by Kenni_Gam
Draco Malfoy leans back in bed and wraps his large hand around his half-hard and needy
cock.

It’s been a long day, to put it lightly, and he just needs a little stress relief. Nothing too out of
the ordinary. Everyone raves about self-care this and self-care that. Well, this is his form of
self-care– thank you very much.

His cock deserves it, too, after being trapped in expensive, perfectly tailored trousers all day.
It’s a beautiful cock, if he says so himself– which he does. Pink but not too pink. Long and
thick, just a bit over average. It curves to the left but only a touch, so he’s learned how to
shift his hips to ensure the head kisses every woman’s g-spot. And yes, he does mean every.

He pumps slowly, teasingly, letting the electric slide of his palm awaken every nerve as he
pulls back his foreskin. He runs his fingertips along the underside of his cock, trailing over
the veins, making him shudder as his cock grows and finally stands erect.

Draco smirks to himself, a little too proud of how beautiful his dick is, but no one has to
know that. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the head, using his slick precum to add more
glide to his movements. He needs this.

Draco had spent the day presenting his newest potion to the Wizengamot. He was quizzed
constantly, the same question repeated multiple times, worded slightly differently, to see if he
slipped up or didn’t know his potion front to back and inside out. The panels usually lasted a
few days as the Ministry combed through every detail of his research, looking for mistakes or
possible side effects he missed before they allowed him to run trials and test his potion on
humans.

Usually, he was able to breeze through his reviews. With a charming smile, an array of
compliments, and a dazzling reputation for helping the Magical Community since his
mistakes during the War– he could typically wrap up the review and have his new potion
tested by humans and on the market within months. Being family friends with half the
Wizengamot might’ve helped too, but he liked to think it was his mastery at potions that
would even put Snape out of a job were he still alive.

However, Draco was on day eight of his review and getting frustrated. This was the first
potion that meant something to him. He honestly thought it could change lives and therefore
thought it would be approved within the week.

But this was the first time Hermione Granger was on the board, and of course, she’d never
make it easy for Draco. His typical flirty banter and charming smiles were no use against her
all-work-no-fun personality.

Every time he evaded her with a professional and informed answer, she would re-ask it this
way and that, trying to trip him up or debunk his research. She watched him religiously with
chocolate brown eyes that almost went black the more he evaded her attempts at proving him
wrong about the uses of Chinese skullcap for limb stiffness or how Diricawl saliva was
critical in alleviating pain.

Her curls, a bit more tamed since their school years but still wild and sharp, sparked with
magic whenever he bested her. He loved it.

Granger might be skilled in politics, but Draco had been studying potions and Healing for
just as long. There was nothing she could do to shake his confidence.

Except when the button from her shirt popped off during one rather animated argument, and
the tan silk of her brazier slipped into view. The tan garment, which he was unsurprised by–
since Granger seemed the type to prioritize comfort over sex appeal, hugged her cleavage and
pushed her breasts together in a tantalizing valley that made him completely lose his train of
thought.

That should have been enough for him to know once the day was over to leave quickly and
regroup. He should not be thinking about Granger in any sort of sexual way. He never has
before.

“Malfoy, walk with me?” Granger asked, though Draco could tell he didn’t have a choice.
Plus, her long legs wrapped in a tight pencil skirt distracted him to the point he could only
nod as he finished putting away his papers into his briefcase.

“I have a book at my place that I think would be valuable to your research,” she explained,
purely business. The click of their shoes on the marble floors echoed with stomps of irritation
at the other.

“I’m sure I’ve read it,” he scoffed, sharp and annoyed.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” she countered just as sharply.

By then, they’d made it to the Atrium. Draco wanted nothing more than to go home, but her
hand was on his without permission.

“It’ll just be a short stop by my flat,” she explained, steering them towards the Floos.

Draco suppressed an eye roll. He supposed it was wiser to ‘read’ this book even though it
was probably highly out-of-date knowing Granger’s penchant for history.

“Fine, Granger, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Granger’s flat was precisely what Draco expected. A little too homey for his liking. Her
living room was full of second-hand-looking furniture that, again, prioritized comfort over
design. An orange beast with yellow eyes— possibly a cat– glared at him from a flower-
printed ottoman that didn’t match anything except the cat.

Draco glanced around the living room. There was a kitchen and dining room off to the left
side. Three doors were on the right. A front door, evident from its glass setting, one to the
loo, and one cracked just enough for him to see into her bedroom and take in the luxurious
four-poster bed with too many pillows and a fluffy comforter. Made, of course, but still
comfortable and plush.

“Here you go,” Granger said, breaking Draco away from his inspection of her bedroom and
how there were no clothes on the floor save for a lacy something half under the bed.

Draco tore his eyes away from her bedroom and took Granger in one last time. Her top button
was still undone, and he wondered if she knew he could see right down her shirt. Probably
not. Seemed like something she would fix immediately if she were aware her tits were on
display.

Draco looked away from her body to the book she insisted he read: Believing is Not Seeing:
Magical Creatures Muggles Believe In.

“What does this have to do with my research?” Draco asked, slightly confused.

“You’ll have to read and find out,” she replied in a singsong voice that did wonders for his
imagination.

“Goodnight, Granger,” he said before taking his leave through the Floo to his own flat. He
poured himself a glass of wine and ended up here, in his bed, cock in hand and enjoying the
peace of his own bedroom, not thinking about what possible lacy thing was hiding under
Granger’s bed.

With his eyes closed, Draco continues to pump his cock.

A nightgown? Knickers? Expensive lingerie?

He should not be thinking about Granger's pencil skirt that was tight as sin and a bit too short,
providing an excellent view of her thighs. Or how those thighs would feel wrapped around
his head as she melts into all those damn pillows. He shouldn't be thinking about lacy
underthings that belong to Granger. And he absolutely should not be thinking about pressing
his face into the gap of her shirt and mouthing her plump, beautiful breasts.

Draco’s breath hitches. He’s close to that sweet release that will make this day better. He’s
falling into the deepness of the sort of orgasm that will melt his body and allow him to relax
enough to finally sleep. His bed is dark but welcoming, without so many goddamn pillows.
It’s not the fluffy mess of clouds that Granger’s is, even if he’d like to put one of those
pillows under her hips as he fucked her.

Dammit. He needs to stop thinking about her soft bed. He needs to stop thinking about
Granger at all. He’s so hard, it hurts, even with his hand on himself, chasing release. He
needs to–

"Malfoy, did you just Apparate into my bed?!"

Draco can barely focus on the outraged voice because his orgasm hits him like a bludger. He
comes all over his hand, stomach, and thighs like a teenager that’s touched himself for the
first time. His moan cracks, and his eyes roll back into his head as he leans back and
appreciates the glory of a fantastic orgasm.

When his breathing settles, and his brain cells start working again, barely, he opens his eyes
and realizes he is no longer in his bedroom. He is not alone.

He is naked, come pooling on his stomach, and on Hermione Granger’s bed.

And she’s sitting right next to him in flannel pajamas gaping like a goldfish.

“Did you just– Oh my– Was that– Are you–” she sputters and is so red in the cheeks even her
dark coloring can’t hide her blush.

Draco swallows down any embarrassment quickly and efficiently.

“Well, that’s a first,” is all he says because what else is there?

He hasn’t had a case of accidental magic since school.

And never while wanking. Merlin, murder him with a basilisk fang.

“Malfoy!” Granger gasps. He’s positive from how wide her eyes are that her brain has short-
circuited. He can’t blame her for that, though; he has a lovely and erotic orgasm face– yes, he
has watched himself come in the mirror just to check– and his naked body is nothing to
sneeze at. He spends much of his free time at the gym for these sorts of situations.

Or, well, close to this. Usually, the female is much more excited and interested.

“You’ll recover,” he says, casting a wandless cleaning spell on himself before he gets up off
her bed, cupping his cock and balls to hide them away for a sense of decorum. She hadn’t
asked to see him, and he has a feeling she’s the sort to say this was sexual assault. Accidental,
but still, exposing himself to a witch could get him locked up in the drunk tank. Draco knows
this because he’s bailed Goyle out. Twice.

“Recover? My sheets won’t!” she gasps, getting off the bed and following him out the door
of her room to the Floo.

“I’ll buy you new sheets.” He rolls his silver eyes like they’re discussing a coffee spill.

“You can’t just barge into my bedroom and–” she waves her hands around, too prude to say
it.

“Orgasm?” he offers.

“Yes!”

“Look, obviously, this was an accident,” he gestures with his free hand to his naked body.
Her eyes roam it, and then she’s flushing all over again and looking somewhere off to his left.
“It’ll never happen again.”
“Good,” Granger snaps, “it better not! No one wants to see–”

She gestures to all of him, but he knows better than to believe that. Everyone wants to see
this. He’s made sure of it.

“I knew you were a prude, but a liar too?” he teases, just because he can. It makes her sputter
again like her brain’s melted completely. He kind of loves it.

“See you tomorrow, Granger. Sweet dreams,” he winks before Flooing back to his flat.

⟡⟡⟡
Most people would likely be too ashamed to show their face after accidentally apparating
naked onto someone’s bed mid-orgasm, but Draco isn’t. Granger got a free show that many
women would pay to see; she should consider herself lucky.

Also, he has a job to do, and getting his potion passed by the Wizengamot is much more
important than hiding away because Granger has seen his cock, balls, and toned, bare arse
strutting through her flat.

Again, some women would pay for that.

When he arrives at his desk in front of the Wizengamot, Draco flips through the docket to see
who will be questioning him first.

Granger’s name is not first as it usually is. It’s not even on the list.

He shifts slightly, peering over his shoulder at the woman seated off to the right and three
rows up. She stares at him with punishing grace, stern but beautiful with strength. When she
notices he’s watching right back, she drops her quill and looks away.

He’d bet a million Galleons she’s blushing, though he can’t see it from this distance.

Draco’s glad he wore his favorite navy-blue suit today. It fits him like a glove, tailored just
right to emphasize his long and muscular legs. If he were to take off the blazer, his broad
shoulders and chest would tug at the material, showing off the sculpted muscles underneath
without seeming too intentional.

He turns and walks over to her, peering up past the two rows between them and giving her a
smirk she can’t ignore.

“No questions today, Granger?”

“Nope,” she says with a pop of her P that feels deliberate.

“Seen everything you need to see?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk turns her face turns molten red even through her dark complexion. It's a beautiful
sight, and Draco imagines it underneath him as he pistons his cock into her, thrust after
thrust. He uses a touch of his Occlumency skill to save the image for later.
“I’m just giving you time to add new information to your research.”

“New information?”

“From the book you borrowed,” she says sternly, looking away from him, pointedly ending
the conversation.

It’s no surprise later, when he’s returned home after a stressful and obnoxious day, he’s
thinking of that stern voice as he tugs one out in the shower.

Usually, he’s not the submissive sort, but he doesn’t mind the image of Granger tying him to
her bed and using that voice on him, telling him to sit still before swallowing his entire cock
in one dignified gulp. He’s completely okay with how her fingernails dig into his thighs as
his cock hits the back of her throat. She chokes slightly, squeezing his cock with an erotic jolt
of pain–

Then there’s a scream, and Draco is smacked in the face with something soft.

“For fuck’s sake!” he coughs, gags, and almost dies because unexpectedly edging when right
on the brink of coming tends to do that.

“MALFOY!” she shouts. She goes to swat him again with her pillow, but he grabs it right out
of her hand. He uses it to cover his solid erection, currently leaking worse than Moaning
Myrtle’s loo. Well, that’s one way to flag his cock.

“You say that like I planned this,” he grumbles. He’s a bit more grumpy about it this time,
considering he’s so hard it hurts (though thinking about Myrtle is helping), and would like to
have at least finished before dealing with a hysterical wet blanket.

“It’s starting to seem like you do,” she snaps at him. Tonight she’s in a nightgown. It’s not
exactly sexy as it's made of cotton and decorated with little birds, but the cut is just right for
her breasts to look incredibly luscious and ripe for sucking.

“Hardly,” he rolls his eyes and looks around her bedroom, trying to find something to get his
mind off his cock since looking at her is not working. At least she’s under the covers, so he
doesn’t have to see her bare legs.

He wonders for a moment if she sleeps without knickers, and it makes his cock pulse so hard
he flops back into her pillows and covers his face with his hands while letting out a strained
groan of frustration.

“You are wet!” Granger shouts and tries to push him off the bed. He doesn’t budge.

“Yes, well, I was in the shower.”

“Doing what?” she gasps.

Draco can’t help it. He just looks at her. She’s the brightest witch of their age; she has to
know what he was doing. He watches her cheeks redden, and mouth silently gasp as the
pieces fall into place.
“Thinking about me?” she asks so quietly he’s not even sure he hears her right.

But he’s grumpy, wet, and still hard as a fucking boulder– thoughts of Myrtle be damned–so
he snaps, “no, about Weasley’s mum.”

She gives him a hard stare, which oddly turns him on a little as he remembers that whole
being tied to the bed bit. He has to look up at the ceiling to ignore the twitch in his cock. He
wishes they put him in Azkaban. Honestly, that would be so much better than this hell.

“I didn’t think I was your type,” she comments so plainly he could be clothed and
approaching her in a bar. While the first time he was cocky and would have loved this
reaction, at the moment, he really would rather not.

“You’re not,” he states flatly.

“Obviously, I am,” she smirks, tugging at the pillow still covering his lap. Draco refuses to let
it go, which only makes her smirk more.

He wonders if she’d kill him right here and now. Probably goes against her uptight moral
code.

“I’m leaving,” he states, finally moving off the bed. He takes a deep breath, gathering all his
wits and strength, and pulls his shit back together. He is not going to let Granger know she’s
got to him.

He leaves the pillow on the bed.

His cock stands tall and proud; it aches with each bob of movement, but there’s no denying
that Granger cannot look away. She unconsciously wets her lips, and Draco knows he at least
put her back in her place of prude shame.

He throws powder into the fireplace, completely positive that she is memorizing every
muscle in his back, thighs, and arse. “And put some godsdamn wards up already, for fuck’s
sake.”

⟡⟡⟡
Draco makes it almost a week before returning to Granger’s bed.

Once again, it’s not something he does on purpose.

He thought he was in the clear, seeing as he’s fucked around and didn’t find out the last few
nights. He could finally give himself some of his preferred method of self-care and did not
end up in Granger’s bed when he came with her name on his lips.

He thought about her bent over his couch, her shapely, round bottom in the air and her legs
spread so wide she leaked right onto the floor. He thought about her up against the wall, her
legs wrapped tight against his waist, impaled so deep on his cock he was hitting her cervix.
He even imagined her in his bed, clawing at his back muscles, trying to hold on as he
pounded so hard into her the headboard cracked, and the bed toppled to the ground.
All that and no apparating! Life was amazing again. Draco could go to work, argue with
Granger to his heart's desire, and then fuck her senseless in the privacy of his wet-day-
dreams.

That is until he imagined her sliding on him, her thighs spread wide over his hips, and his
cock drilling upwards, dragging across her g-spot repeatedly. Her breasts bounced with each
thrust of his hips while his hands held her steady so she wouldn’t fly off him. His hand didn’t
feel as warm and welcoming as her cunt probably did, but it didn’t matter as he groaned out
her name and thrust again and again, imaging her nails tearing new scars down his chest, the
stinging ache lighting every nerve–

“AGAIN? REALLY?” he hears Granger half gasp, half yell.

Draco groans and rolls over onto his stomach to hide his erection. “Why didn’t you put up
your wards!”

“I forgot tonight! Why don’t you go to a Healer and stop this from happening!” she snaps
right back at him. He can feel her moving about the bed, scrambling and making the mattress
bump and jostle which causes it to rub against him and–

“Will you fucking sit still?” he grunts at her, turning his head to face her and finding her
completely topless. He’d be annoyed at her suggesting something like going to a Healer if he
wasn’t seeing what he was seeing. Draco’s eyes grow three sizes bigger as he takes in her
rich, dark skin and even darker nipples. How they’re pebbled and hard and a bit pink like
she’d been tugging on them.

“Granger, are you….” he trails off because he doesn’t have to say it. He can smell it. The
sweet, salty, tangy scent that is pure sex. “Oh, this is too good.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” she snaps, shoving him with her free hand while her other grabs onto her
sheet and pulls it upward. But it’s too late. He’s seen enough to know she’s completely naked
under her blankets.

“Were you thinking of me?”

“No!” she says too fast to be the truth.

“I was thinking about you,” he offers to soften her. “About you riding me, chasing your own
pleasure, your head thrown back as as you slammed down hard on me again and again and–”

“Stop,” she groans, but it’s more of a whine than a demand.

“You can, if you want,” he offers with a smirk. She turns away from him, biting her lip,
probably thinking why she should not. And there are a million excellent reasons why she
shouldn’t. From being childhood enemies. To the sides of the War. To how she set free all his
House Elves with a stupid law. To how she’s now in control of his newest potion. Really, for
the last one alone, he should not fuck her, but she’s already seen his cock three times now,
and it already feels like they’ve crossed a line.
Draco tugs on the sheet, and it falls from her hands without hesitation.

“Maybe if we… get this out of our systems, it’ll stop,” she suggests timidly.

“That’s an idea. Better than a Healer,” Draco nods, his eyes sparkling with lust as he moves.
It’s an idea that he really, really likes. He nudges her to lay back on the pillows as he pulls the
sheet down her body to prove that he is right– she is completely naked and dripping wet.

He settles between her legs before she can stop him.

“Not all the way, just some touching, you know?” She’s a stuttering, fumbling mess, turning
him on more with each strangled whimper of need.

“Touching, sure,” he agrees. Fucking is great, but there are other things to do that are just as
fun. He’s never complained about a blowjob. Well. A good blowjob. “With my tongue?”

He hears her swallow hard. He knows she wants to say no but wants to say yes even more.

“Oh my Circe, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” she groans, covering her face with her
hands. But it’s not a no and not a stop, so Draco presses his lips to her inner thigh and moves
them up and up toward her heated center. She squirms and wiggles, which only excites him
more.

She won’t touch him, not yet, and fists the sheets instead, but that’s fine. He knows it won’t
last long once his tongue is buried inside her cunt.

“You say stop, and I will,” he instructs her. “The second it’s too far, tell me.”

“It’s already too far,” she mumbles to the ceiling. “I could get fired for this.”

“So you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that,” she whines, and her hips roll her cunt closer to his face.

He waits another moment just because he can. Because he loves hearing her whine for him
and can’t wait till she’s begging.

And that little pause, that little moment of breath, is enough to get her hands off the sheets
and buried in his hair, tugging his face into her cunt. Draco preens with his victory as he
presses his tongue flat against her opening, tasting his prize.

Granger moans at the touch she’s been dying for and gasps when he flicks his tongue over
her clit. He gives it all his attention, flicking and rubbing his tongue hard against it before
sucking and biting, getting her so close to a moan but then leaving her whining.

She tastes better than his dreams. Better than his imagination that brought him here in the
first place. When her hips start lifting, he presses his palm flat on her stomach, holding her
firming against the bed. Her fingers clench around his hair, he moves his tongue from her clit
to her folds, pressing it deep into her. The change is enough to make her swallow her moan
and roll her entire body back a few steps from the orgasm that was about to burst.
He wants to give her everything and take just as much in return. He devours her cunt–
licking, tasting, thrusting, biting– he claims it as his last meal and hopes to die right here in
this bed. He could live like this for hours, suffocating on her cunt, inhaling her salty desire,
and making a home in her warmth.

Granger pulls on his hair again and scratches at his shoulders. Her legs flail, and her hips
wiggle. She can’t sit still. She can’t exhale without moaning. She whines his name like it’s
the only name she’s ever known. She’s close, so fucking close.

So he stops again, making her scream out, “No! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

He returns to her clit with soft, slow, teasing, sensitive licks. She squirms more, trying to
make her body return to that moment right before it all snaps. But he knows what he’s doing.
He’s climbing mountain after mountain, so when she finally hits her peak, she’ll erupt.

Draco sucks at her clit with more pressure when he finally slides two of his long, thick
fingers into her hot cunt. It’s velvety heaven inside, and Draco moans, thinking about how he
wants to stop everything and make her into a home for his cock. But she said ‘just some
touching,’ so instead, he rubs himself against the mattress and focuses back on her by curling
his fingers, pressing up into her cunt, and rubbing against her g-spot.

This time, when her body tenses and her thighs clench around his head, he lets her go. He
sucks on her clit as she topples over the side of her mountain and explodes like fireworks.
She practically screams as she comes all over his face, drenching him with her juices. His ego
eats it up with pride.

She rides his face, grinding her hips, not letting go of his hair that she pulls so hard it might
leave him with a headache. But it’s worth it. It’s so fucking hot that his cock can’t take it. His
pride swells as much as his desire; he was already almost there, and with her taste deep
within his soul, he comes hard into her sheets and moans into her cunt, sending her through
another shockwave.

Eventually, her grip loosens, and Draco can surface for fresh air again. Though he’s not sure
that he wants to. Part of him thinks about returning to clean up her entire cunt with his tongue
and making her a mess all over again.

“Oh Gods, that was– wow,” she breathes as he rolls over onto his back and stares up at the
ceiling. “Did you– oh wow.”

Draco nods and turns to smirk at her again. “Yeah, your cunt’s that good. Can’t wait to be in
it.”

Hermione flushes a deep umber. Her hair has residue sparks of magic as she shakes it no.
“This was a one-time thing. It can’t happen again, okay? It can’t.”

The blow to his ego hurts a bit, but Draco’s dealt with worse, so he doesn’t let it show.
Hopefully, this is the last time he ends up in her bed while he tugs one out.

“Give me a second, and then I’ll go,” he says, turning back to look at the ceiling.
He’s fine; he really is.

“Thank you,” she sighs, like now the weight is finally off her shoulders.

“No,” he chuckles, “thank you.”

⟡⟡⟡
Malfoy leaves without a fuss. He’s more of a gentleman about it all than Hermione expected.
He gets a wet flannel to help her clean up and then kisses the top of her head before leaving
through the Floo like he always does, completely naked and not ashamed in the slightest.

What did he have to be ashamed about? He’s fucking beautiful. Each muscle is cut from
stone, and his cock– Circe– the first time she saw it, she almost broke down and told him to
fuck her right then and there. It’s not her fault she hasn’t been laid in months. Except it very
much is because she was the one that told Ron she wanted a break and hasn’t tried to fix any
of that yet.

Circe, if Ron ever found out about this, he would jump off the Hogwarts bridge. Well, murder
Malfoy and then jump.

Nope, tonight was a one-time thing, and it cleared all the sexual tension in the air. That was
it. Hermione could go on with her life and job and not think about Draco Malfoy naked while
he explains the ins and outs of his medical miracle potion that she should just give full usage
clearance to like she knows it deserves. She’d read all his research and the reports. She knew
it was beyond anything anyone had ever created and could help so many suffering people
deal with residual pain from the War.

All these hoops and questions were maybe so she could keep talking to him and maybe even
look at his beautiful body. And that was before he landed naked in her bed.

Bugger.

Hermione magics new bedding and takes a shower once Malfoy is good and gone. When she
gets out of the bathroom, Crookshanks glares at her from the bed like he knows what she did
and how big of a no-no it was.

But Crooks won’t tell anyone. He might be half-kneazle, but he still can’t talk– thank Circe.
Even if Draco Malfoy had just given her the most intense orgasm of her life, no one could
ever know, and, more importantly, it could never happen again.

She ensures it by setting wards around her flat before falling asleep.

Hermione sleeps better than she has in months.

She wakes up refreshed and, well, a little horny. She tells herself it's just a residual desire
from an excellent night, and she does not want it again. No. Not at all.

And she tells herself that again when Malfoy enters the courtroom in that expensive and
elegant navy blue suit that brings out his eyes and hair so wonderfully, it might be magic. He
finds her right away, of course. But instead of his snarky, egotistical smirk, he’s smiling. It’s
pure and genuine and makes her insides squirm worse than when he apparated into her bed,
groaning her name.

It probably didn’t help that she had three fingers buried in her cunt, but still, he didn’t know
that.

The rest of the Wizengamot listens to his presentation; by this point, it's repetitive and boring,
and Hermione’s mind wanders off to what might’ve happened if he hadn’t come on her sheets
and she’d been able to get on her knees for him.

She’s seen his cock enough times to know it’s a choking hazard, but she doesn’t exactly hate
that. She’s thought about it deep in her throat, pulsing as he lets go, shooting his come into
her belly and filling her mouth so it leaks down her chin. She’s lost, imagining him using her
mouth as a cockwarmer, hidden under the table and waiting on her knees while he talks about
the magical properties of Diricawl saliva when he turns to her.

“Any questions for today, Granger?” he asks from his desk in the middle of the round
auditorium.

Hermione nearly topples over in her chair. Why was he calling her out? Could he be making
it any more obvious? But then she remembers her name was on the questioning docket.

Right.

“Have you read the book I supplied you with last week?”

“Not yet, I’ve been a bit… busy,” he says with his classic smirk. She hates it. Especially now
that it makes her stomach flip and butterflies swarm around like hippogriffs.

“I suggest you read it, or we may never come to an agreement about this potion,” she hums,
deliberately snarky.

She notices him roll his eyes when he thinks she’s not looking.

It’s fine.

It’s for the best.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

Hermione leaves for home quickly after the meeting is adjourned. She doesn’t want to run
into Malfoy; luckily, she escapes him easily.

It’s not until hours later, when she’s settled into bed with her book, that she remembers she
has yet to set her wards. She could place them, and Malfoy would not be able to apparate in
and, therefore, not be able to edge her three times before giving her the best orgasm of her
life. Again.
Or she could leave it be and just see if anything happened. Maybe he got his kicks settled,
and he would never apparate into her flat again, accidentally or not.

It’s starting to feel that way when it's half-past midnight, and still no sign of Malfoy’s naked
body in her bed. Hermione puts her reading away and heads to the loo one last time to brush
her teeth and wash her face.

Maybe it was a one-time shag that he needed to get out of his system. Maybe it was
something she needed to get out of her system, too, to figure out if she should return to Ron.
Not that she really knows the answer to that, but still, it’s making her lean a certain way,
that’s for sure.

Hermione sighs and leaves her bathroom, turning off the light. It’s Crookshanks orange tail
flicking in the air that catches her attention. He lays on the bed with his bright yellow eyes,
judging her. Hermione almost tells him to give her a break, and she only wore her silk nighty
because it was warm out, when she notices that Crooks isn’t alone in the bed.

Draco Malfoy lays on one side of her bed, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a book resting
across his chest. His breathing is soft and gentle; she can tell he’s asleep by the softness of his
features that she’s never seen and the way his eyelashes flutter softly.

The book on his chest is hers – Believing is Not Seeing: Magical Creatures Muggles Believe
In –the one she’s been hounding him to read even though it truly has nothing to do with his
research. Honestly, she only picked it randomly in hopes of infuriating him.

She picks it up off his chest delicately and muffles her laugh when she finds he is open to the
section on Hippogriffs.

But the thing that truly warms Hermione’s heart and twists it unexpectedly is that if he
apparated while he was sleeping… then he was dreaming of her.

And not in a sexual way, if the soft smile on his face has anything to say about it.

⟡⟡⟡
When Draco awakes, he feels better rested than he has in months. That is until he opens his
eyes to see bright yellow ones glaring right back at him.

“Fucking Merlin,” he gasps, pulling back to realize that he is face to face with that beast-cat
Granger owns. It only takes a few seconds from there for him to realize what’s happened.
That he apparated in his sleep, but he doesn’t remember having a dream like that. He’d been
thinking about her naked underneath him all day, so it wasn’t surprising, but he barely had
morning wood.

No, if he remembered correctly, he dreamt about his Third Year Care of Magical Creatures
class when he taunted that damn hippogriff. Granger was there, glaring at him as he bled half
to death, so maybe that’s why he ended up in her bed. Or maybe it was her stupid book about
Magical Creatures; he did fall asleep while reading about the awful creature. Either way, he’s
going to blame her for this incident, since he wasn’t even awake.
The cat-beast stretches and then jumps from the bed, slinking out the bedroom door. Good
riddance, Draco thinks, before it’s back and with a look that says: follow or perish.

Draco decides he doesn’t want to die this morning, so he follows.

Granger is busy in the kitchen, already dressed in one of her sinful pencil skirts and a blouse
that hugs her body even if it doesn’t hint at the cleavage underneath.

“Morning,” she smiles, looking particularly happy, despite having an unwanted houseguest.

“Morning,” Draco hums, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry about,” he waves his hand
to gesture to all of himself and then toward the bedroom.

“It wasn’t a problem; you didn’t even snore,” Granger hums, “how do you like your tea?”

“Oh, um, lemon, please,” he says, standing awkwardly. Sex is one thing, even being naked,
but standing in a kitchen after sleeping in the same bed? He feels more self-conscious than he
did coming all over himself the first time he apparated.

Granger doesn’t seem to notice. She hands him his tea and motions for him to sit beside her.
He watches her eyes as they drink silently. Her chocolate brown orbs trace over his chest,
down each scar he has from the War. He hopes to Merlin she doesn’t mention the long,
slicing white ones that Potter gave him during their Sixth Year.

She doesn’t. Instead, she says, “so you’re reading Believing is Not Seeing.”

“Trying to,” he snorts. “I haven’t found anything relevant.”

“There’s got to be something,” she says, hiding a smirk behind her cup as she takes a sip.

“I don’t get why you’re so against my potion,” Draco says, leaning back in his chair. The
orange blob-creature-cat watches him skeptically from the counter. He’s tempted to give it
the middle finger, but he has a feeling Granger wouldn’t appreciate that.

“I’m not against it,” Granger sighs and looks out the window. “I just want to make sure it
really does what it’s supposed to for everyone.”

“It does.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asks him pointedly.

“Because I used it on myself,” Draco smirks before sipping on his tea. She made a rather
good cup, but he keeps that to himself too.

“You did? But testing on humans is illegal and could completely throw out all your work,”
Granger panics, going into legal law mode that he knows so well. Draco resists rolling his
eyes.

“Which is why I didn’t include it in my study,” he assures her.

“Just used it selfishly,” she hums in the know-it-all tone that she’s used since the day he met
her. Draco does his best not to roll his eyes. It half works.

“Everyone’s a bit selfish when inventing something, aren’t they? It’s a cure for themselves or
someone they love— a potion to help people or make life a bit easier. It’s okay to be a bit
selfish, Granger,” he explains to the wood grain of the table instead of to her.

She considers his words for a moment before continuing. “Did the potion work?”

He nods and raises his hand in the air, holding it level for her to see it lay still and balanced.

“My Aunt and Father would use the Cruciatus Curse on me, but it’s never been documented,
so the research would be null and void regardless,” he explains softly, then shrugs. “I haven’t
had the shakes since I took the potion so I would like to start human trials as soon as
possible.”

Granger bites her lips and nods. “I suppose you make a compelling case for curing the effects
of an Unforgivable.”

“Even without reading your book?”

“I suppose I can make an exception,” she confesses with a cheeky smile.

“Merciful Witch,” he chuckles. It makes her laugh too. Which he likes almost as much as her
cunt.

⟡⟡⟡
Once Draco is in front of the Wizengamot, Granger stands and states that she believes it’s
time to vote to progress Draco’s potion into human trials.

It passes, as he expected his very first day at court, but what feels best is Granger voting for
him. For it. For the potion. She votes for the potion, not for him.

He still knows where he stands after breakfast.

She may like his potion, but he’s still the one-night stand she didn’t ask for and will never ask
for again.

And that’s perfectly fine. He knows who he is and who she is, and why would he have
expected to be anything more than that?

“Thank you, Granger,” he says, shaking her hand as he does with every other council
member.

“Next time, I won’t give you such boring reading,” she says in what he would think is a tease
if he didn’t know any better. Or maybe it means she’s a bit sour over him apparating into her
flat last night, even if it was in his sleep. She seemed fine this morning when he left, but that
doesn’t mean she was as understanding once his last name and their past sunk in.
Draco pushes the thought away. Things are fine. It was a very weird week that he’ll never tell
anyone about.

He goes out to the bar to celebrate with his friends. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise all chatter and
gush about how proud and happy they are for him. Draco’s already given Blaise the potion
for his mother’s shakes due to an abusive husband and swears the potion will make it through
trials and onto the market within the year.

Theo’s gushing about his new job, something to do with Time Turners in the Department of
Mysteries, when Draco spots Granger across the pub with Potter and Weasley. The three are
snug in a booth, hidden from most, and enjoying each other’s company.

Weasley sits with his arm around the back of the booth, not touching Granger but also
sending a sure signal to every man in the pub that she’s his.

Draco’s stomach sours at the thought. Maybe he was just a fun ride for her before she settled
down with Weasley once and for all. He doesn’t like the idea of being used– it happened too
often for much worse reasons in his childhood– but then again, he was the one that started all
this. If he wasn’t apparating, then she would have never even given him a chance.

He has no right or reason to be upset.

“Have any of you ever sleep apparated?” Draco asks his friends.

“No, but once I was so horny, I jumped into my loo when I came,” Theo smirks.

“So you could watch yourself come in the mirror?” Pansy asks, eyebrows raised, most
definitely judging him.

A blush spreads across Theo’s cheeks to signify, yes, exactly that. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise
erupt in laughter and call for more shots. It’s the sort of night to celebrate and get a bit
sloshed, that’s for sure.

Hours later, and with more shots than he could count, Draco is near drunk. He knows this
because things are a little fuzzy, and he’s getting that sad feeling that happens when he drinks
a touch too much.

He fixes it by chatting up a blonde at the bar. She’s sweet, like one too many sugar quills, and
much more bubbly than he likes. He misses the challenge and sass. He knows he’s good-
looking and has beautiful eyes; he wants someone that makes it fun. She tries to sit on his lap
and kiss his neck, but he pays her no attention and keeps looking over at the brunette across
the bar that he would rather have on his lap.

It’s nearly midnight when he decides to go home without the blonde. Pansy and Theo dance
between the will-they-won’t-they drunkenness they always have, and Blaise looks ready to
lock them in a room together like he always does. One day they’ll get their shit together, but
it doesn’t seem likely tonight as they all say goodbye and apparate home.
Except Draco doesn’t go home. He thinks about it, but right before the magic kicks in, he
notices Granger out of the corner of his eye, watching him with a warm blush across the top
of her cheeks. He thinks about her soft thighs and ample curves. He thinks about her laughing
in the morning and getting his tea just right. He thinks about how easy it is to just chat with
her.

He thinks maybe he will say hello when he bumps right into the waitress. The crash sends
him falling backward, his arse hitting the floor and his hands landing on broken glass. Or it
should have been broken glass, but when Draco opens his eyes, he’s no longer in the pub.

“Fuck,” Draco groans when he realizes he’s on Granger’s floor, just next to her bed. He
swears he didn’t mean it, but as he sits up, he notices those judgemental yellow eyes staring
at him.

“It was an accident!” he tells the cat. He’s decided it’s a cat, at least, even with the squished
face and the way it’s talking to him through its eyes. At the moment, it’s telling Draco,
‘you’re an idiot,’ and he can’t argue that.

Draco stands and runs his hand through his hair. The room doesn’t spin too badly, but he
thinks it’s probably safer to Floo back home. He’s a step from the door when he hears the
sound of the Floo, and two voices enter the living room.

“You didn’t have to come back with me, Ron. I told you, I’m fine,” he hears Granger’s voice,
harsh and annoyed.

“I was making sure you didn’t splinch. You had like six shots,” Weaslebee blunders.

“I was celebrating,” Granger sighs.

Draco hears her footsteps coming closer, and when he looks to the cat for help, it slinks away
into the bathroom.

Maybe it is on his side, he thinks before escaping into the loo and hiding behind the door.

Granger enters her bedroom, throwing her purse on the dresser and huffing. “You can’t sleep
here.”

Draco’s heart sings at the declaration. Sucks to be you, Weaslebee. Draco got to sleep there,
all warm and tucked in. Maybe on accident, but still a point ahead of Weasley.

“Why the fuck not, Hermione. You say we’re on a break, but you act like we’re over. It’s
been months,” Weasley whines– pathetically, if you ask Draco.

He might be a little pathetic, too, hiding in the dark like this, but it’s better than–

The light to the loo flicks on, and Granger enters, pulling off her earrings and pulling her hair
from its tight bun. She turns to shut the door when she sees Draco hiding there, standing
awkwardly. He remembers that he doesn’t do awkward and puffs out his chest with
confidence. Or cockily, depending on how you look at it.
Granger’s honey-brown eyes grow the size of Quaffles. She mouths something that looks a
lot like ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ but he only remembers her swearing when he
stopped fucking her with his tongue.

Draco shrugs and hisses, “get rid of Weasley.”

Granger pinches the bridge of her nose and leaves the bedroom.

“Ron, you need to go. Please. This isn’t the time to be having this conversation.”

“When is the time then?”

“When you haven’t drunk half your weight in light beer?”

At that, Draco snorts. How can he not? Light beer? Man up, Weasley, honestly. At least drink
a nice lager or IPA.

“What was that?” Weasley asks.

“Crookshanks,” Granger says quickly. “He was sleeping in the tub. We’ve probably woken
him.”

Draco looks down at the cat at his feet. He blinks up at him, saying, Yes, she’s talking about
me, you bloody moron. He’d be annoyed at Granger having such a surly cat, but honestly, it
seems a little fair, given the circumstance.

“Please, Ron,” she tries again, “go home and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Nah, if you want me to go home, then we don’t need to talk. I know the answer,” Weasley
says, sad and pathetic. Draco’s a bit too proud of himself to feel all that bad.

There’s silence as the Floo sounds, and Granger gives it a moment before storming back into
the bathroom.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here!” she gasps, shoving him softly against the wall.

“It was an accident!” Draco gasps, putting up his hands in surrender. “Ask the cat.”

“What? Crookshanks can’t–” Granger sighs and pinches her nose, “Oh my gods, it is too late
for this.”

“Then why don’t we head to bed?” Draco smirks. Hey, if he’s here, he might as well…

“Not you too.” Or maybe not.

“What do you mean not me too?” Draco asks, scrunching his eyebrows, doing his best to
look damn cute since sometimes that’s just as seductive as his smirk.

“I saw you with that blonde,” Granger accuses, poking him in the chest with her finger.
“Her? She meant nothing. And it’s not like Weasley wasn’t all over you,” he waves off
because if he can be cool about Weasley, she can be cool about the blonde woman.

“That is completely different.”

“Different because he came home with you. I didn’t bring the blonde home,” Draco points
out logically, even though Granger doesn’t seem to appreciate it used against her. He should
know that from the past two weeks from whenever she got grumpy while he debated her over
his potion– which was every time.

“Go home, Malfoy,” she demands, “And stay there.”

Draco doesn’t need to be told twice. He doesn’t walk pathetically to the Floo like Weasley,
though. He holds his head high, and he apparates right there, away from Granger on purpose.

⟡⟡⟡
Draco doesn’t apparate accidentally again. Not as he comes in his hand and not when he’s
asleep dreaming about Granger’s smile.

He likes to pretend it’s because he’s over her and doesn’t want her.

It’s probably, most likely, because she put up wards to keep him out.

But that’s fine, whatever. It’s not like he needs her in his life. He had his potion trials to focus
on, and there are more important things than the sounds Granger makes when she comes.

He gets along just fine without her in his life. It’s not as much fun going to his research lab
where she’s not there to tease and grill him, but it’s still potions, and he’s always loved those.
Going home alone is just as brilliant as it once was too. He practices his self-care and doesn’t
think about how it’s a bit lonely and how much he would like Granger even reading in bed
next to him.

Maybe that’s why when Draco finds Granger’s stupid book on the floor of his bedroom, he
decides to give it a read. If she felt there was something important to his potion in there, then
he wants to know it. He wants to prove it’s not important, just like how she is not running
through his mind.

He flips open to a random page and starts reading. It’s still dry and boring, and about Muggle
creatures he doesn’t give two shits about. It’s not until he reaches some flightless bird called
the Dodo that he stops skimming and pays attention.

While Muggles believed the Dodo (or, as known by Wizards, the Diricawl) to be extinct, in
reality, it existed and could disappear and reappear elsewhere as a means of escaping danger
and pain, similar to apparation.

Male Dodos have also been recorded apparating during mating, hence their low population
numbers.

“You’ve GOT to be fucking me,” Draco groans and rereads the sentence.
He used Diricawl salvia in his potion to make the pain disappear. He just never accounted for
the need to reappear.

Or know that it was part of the bird’s mating.

It was all a side effect of his potion. Every time he apparated and thought about Granger
while he wanked was because of the damn potion. Even in his dream, he was bleeding from
his hippogriff attack, and while, yes, he knows, he completely deserved it, it still hurt.

This was all his stupid fucking fault.

And he kept ending up at Granger’s because he wanted her. He felt right with her. Safe with
her, even. Sleep-Draco knew that; why didn’t awake-Draco?

Because awake Draco thinks purely with his cock.

Or mostly with it. He did invent a potion to help those suffering from the effects of an
Unforgivable curse. That wasn’t cock driven.

Well, at one time, he did think 'this will definitely get me laid' while coming up with the
potion, but beyond that, he was not thinking with his cock.

Draco does what he’s been doing the past two weeks, but this time apparates onto Granger’s
bed on purpose.

He pops onto the bed, causing both a scream and a yowl. The yowl is from Crookshanks,
who Draco lands half atop.

“Sorry, Crooks,” he murmurs, moving off the cat; he looks at Draco with a snarky about-time
eye roll before jumping off the bed.

It gives Draco just enough time to lose focus and get a well-deserved thwap from Granger on
the shoulder with her book. Thankfully, it’s a paperback, and no damage is done to Draco or
the book.

“Again? Malfoy, you need to fix this. It has to–”

If she were about to say it has to stop, Draco puts an end to that thought because he kisses her
good, hard, and deeply. He cups her face with both hands and presses his lips onto hers so
that it’s impossible for her to pull back. Well, it’s possible; he’s not that ruddy awful of a
human. But the point, moreover, is that she doesn’t pull back. In fact, after a few moments to
register what is happening, she sinks into the kiss and grabs hold of his shirt with both hands.

“This time wasn’t an accident,” he explains. It’s enough to make her let down her guard and
melt away any stiffness in her kiss and body.

“I wanted to see you,” he continues with another gasp for air before diving back into a deeper
kiss. His tongue slides into her mouth, along hers, tasting the soft honey that radiates down in
her cunt.
“Really?” she squeaks.

“Obviously,” he chuckles into their kiss. “I missed you, too.”

“I ended things,” Granger sighs when she takes a breath, “with Ron.”

“Thank fucking Gods,” Draco smirks before attacking her again, hungrily devouring her in a
kiss that he might’ve been waiting decades for if he asked his thirteen-year-old self. He might
need some therapy, though, to uncover that deep dark secret, so he settles on having her here,
now, in his arms and all around him.

It’s overwhelming and passionate. He moves his hand to her throat, giving it a slight squeeze
as she moans into his mouth and then bites hard on his lip. It’s every layer of courtroom
bickering coming out in hips rolling and limbs mashing together to get as close as possible.
Granger’s fingers scramble for purchase before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it up
over his head.

He thanks whatever divine being told her to put on a nightgown as his hands snake up her
thighs; he slides off the bed and tugs her thighs with him, kneeling between her open legs.

“I’ve been dreaming about tasting your cunt again,” he tells her as he tugs off her knickers
and shoves them in his trouser pocket for later. He doesn’t give her a moment to come up
with something snarky in return before diving face-first into her slick folds and getting drunk
on her honey whiskey warmth.

She moans his name while tugging on his hair and throwing her head back in prayer. It’s how
a Sunday should be spent– on his knees for a goddess. He sucks and nips at her clit, giving it
so much attention she’s bursting before he can remember to stop. She comes on his tongue,
moaning and whimpering as the small orgasm rocks through her quickly and unexpectedly.

Draco doesn’t mind. He kisses up her body once again, climbs back onto the bed, and latches
their mouths back together, tugging at her hair so he can kiss and bite down her neck. He
wants to consume every bit of her as she shakes with a need for even more of him.

Granger’s small fingers fiddle with his trousers, loosening them and pushing them down so
that her hand can finally wrap around his cock. He’s harder than he’s been since this
godforsaken apparition bullshit started, and it's all because of her. It’s always been because of
her.

She spits into her hand, making his eyes light up with fire, and his cock twitch with precum
as she wraps her hand around him and begins to pump him. She tries to tease. Tries to but
fails because with every pump of his cock, she rolls her hips, bringing him closer and closer
until the tip of his cock slides against the opening of her cunt.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Granger?” he whispers hotly in her ear, taking a break from
marking her neck with his teeth. He scrunches the bottom of her nightgown and pulls it right
over her head. For all he knows, it’s fucking Christmas because her breasts are more beautiful
than he remembers, and she’s smiling at him, happy.
She nods, biting her lip, but it’s not what he wants.

“Say it, I want to hear you say, fuck me, Draco,” he tells her as he cups her breasts in his
hands, massaging them and rolling her nipples under his fingertips. She arches her back off
the bed when he takes one in his mouth.

She wants him so much she doesn’t waste a breath. “Fuck me, Draco. Please. Gods, fuck
me.”

Draco smirks as he kisses her again, pressing his whole body against hers and gripping her
thighs to pull her even closer as he slides his cock into her hot cunt with slick ease. They both
inhale each other's gasps of pleasure and whimpering groans. He buries himself to the hilt,
feeling her tighten around him as she squeezes her legs around his waist to get even closer,
crossing her ankles behind his back.

They stay like that, completely connected, hips rolling together, barely thrusting because
being buried so deep in her cunt feels like home. He knows he ought to start moving. He
wants to move. But this, this also feels delectably perfect, and he remembers to suggest her
sitting on his cock for hours some other time.

Finally he starts moving because he has to move. Because he has to feel the velvety
smoothness of her cunt wrapped around his godlike cock, as he thrusts in and out. Because he
wants to make her scream his name and refuse to let go of him again. He wants to make it
impossible for her to ever tell him to leave again.

He slams his hips into her, crashing the tip of his cock against her g-spot, making her claw at
his back and tear his shoulder blades apart. He bites and sucks at her clavicle as she throws
her head back in ecstasy, repeating his name over and over like he’s a God.

Every bit of Granger’s body grips him like a vice. There is no air between them. He keeps
thrusting, whispering compliments and praise that spur more shaking gasps from her. Draco
can tell she’s close when her hips jerk at the words, “Good girl, Hermione. Now come all
over my cock.”

At his words, her cunt tightens as she cries out his name. Her nails sink deep into his
shoulders. She pulses around him and doesn’t let him stop thrusting by continuing to move in
the same hypnotic rhythm. It’s only a few thrusts more before he follows her over the edge,
bursting deep inside of her, filling her with every bit of himself, making his thrusts turn
sloppy and rushed.

It’s a miracle he doesn’t crumble when they finally slow their movements. She stays latched
onto him, anchoring him to keep him from tipping sideways. Draco leans over her, pressing
his forehead down onto hers and kissing her softly, letting his body collapse atop of hers.

“Don’t pull out,” she says so quietly that he can barely hear her. “Not yet.”

Draco nods and rests his eyes, completely content with not leaving her cunt any time soon.
He plays with her curls and thinks about the magic that sparked at him in the courtroom.
“I’d been hoping you’d come back,” she says with a voice hoarse from screaming. Despite
his deepest wants, Draco pulls out of her and untangles their limbs. He gets off the bed and
heads out of her bedroom.

“Are you leaving!” she calls after him, annoyance in her tone. “You can’t just–”

Draco laughs. Obviously not, with his clothes still on her floor. Then again, it’s not like he
hasn’t used her Floo in the nude multiple times.

Draco finds a glass in the kitchen and fills it with water in the fridge. He’s just about to return
to the bedroom when he turns to find Granger standing there, looking cross and distractingly
naked.

“I was getting you water,” he says, holding out the glass for her. Her frustration fades into a
smitten sort of smile before she gets annoyed at herself all over again for her feelings. He
loves it. He wants to make it happen until the smile stays for good.

“I did figure it out,” he hums as she finishes her water. “Why I kept accidentally apparating
into your room.”

“You did? Is everything alright?” she asks, handing him back the glass so he can take a sip.

“The potion contains Diricawl saliva– a magical bird known to apparate when in danger,”
Draco explains, then adds begrudgingly, “and sometimes while mating.”

Granger nearly chokes on her tongue. He doesn’t hate that she’s still a little prude. He can’t
wait to make her blush in public.

“And into my bed because?” she breathes.

He looks at her the same way he looked his first time in her bed. It doesn’t take her as long to
put the pieces together.

She bites her lip and tries a new line of questioning. “How’d you find this out?”

“Your stupid book.”

That makes Granger laugh, soft and sweet. “No! I gave you that book to stall you! I picked it
at random!”

Draco flushes with anger for a moment, ready to blow up and yell at her for doing such a
shitty thing when he was trying to help people. But then he sees her breasts bouncing with
each giggle and the way she can’t hold back her laughter with her hand covering her mouth.
Her hair sparks with magic, a joy that makes all his anger wash away.

It makes Draco chuckle, too, like he’s finally fallen into her good graces somehow. “I’m
going to make you pay for that,” he whispers, stepping closer, brushing his nose along her
throat, making her swallow her giggles and start to pulse with need.

“How’s that?”
“I’d like to take you out on a date,” he confesses, wrapping his arms around her and
crowding her back against the counter. “After I’ve fucked you and filled you so you’re
leaking all over the restaurant.”

“I–That seems like a suitable punishment,” she exhales, rushed and flustered. He loves it.

“But right now, I plan to turn you around and bend you over the kitchen counter so your
beautiful ass is in the air for me to do as I please with,” his voice gravel in her ear.

“Oh, well, if that’s what I deserve,” she hums, twisting in his arms and doing her best to bend
over. She grinds her arse into his growing erection. Draco licks his lips as he watches some of
his come drip down her leg.

Draco closes his eyes, wondering how he got so fucking lucky as blood rushes back to his
cock, throbbing with need and a slight bit of—

“Bloody fucking hell!” he groans as he lands in the middle of Granger’s fluffy white bed.

He hears her laughter ring from the kitchen and grows louder as she runs into the room.

“You’re going to have to find the antidote before you can proceed with trials, you know,”
Granger says, crawling onto the bed and straddling his stomach.

“That potion is the furthest thing from my mind right now,” he smiles up at her, biting his lip,
thinking about how if she shifts her hips just right, the bend in his cock might rub against her
g-spot just right in this position.

“Oh? And what’s on your mind?” she asks. “How you still owe me new sheets?”

Draco answers by shifting his hips for his cock to line up right at her entrance.

“Say it,” she smirks, just like he did in the kitchen.

Draco rolls his eyes.

“No, say it,” she whines, grinding down against him.

He knows she’ll tease him until he bursts if he doesn’t say it. And, the worst part is, he kind
of wants to say it.

“You, Hermione.You’re always on my mind.”

End Notes

Thanks for reading my Twitter drabble that turned into 10k real quick - whoops 😬
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