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Living with Draco Malfoy had never been planned.
It all started because Hermione missed her parents, and working at the Ministry was a dream come true, but the magical world had taken too much of her time. She'd been living in the Burrow with the Weasleys since she finished school, and while at first it was only a momentary thing…well, she turned twenty-two and was still living with them. She felt as though she was neglecting her Muggle origin staying with Molly and Arthur Weasley instead of with her parents.
So she bought a flat in Muggle London with a Floo red to travel easily, packed her things, kissed everyone good-bye, and turned around to live a new life in a space that was for her and only for her.
That was, of course, until Blaise Zabini appeared.
The tall wizard owned a fucking bookshop in Muggle London, as if he and his Slytherin friends hadn’t bullied Hermione for years only for being a Muggleborn. Hermione discovered Palazzo Zabini right after finding the perfect flat, and the name of the bookshop had peaked her interest.
Her surprise at seeing Zabini there only increased when the wizard smiled at her and asked her to have a cuppa with him, and after overcoming her initial shock, Hermione suggested her new place, that was only across the street.
Blaise turned out to be a perfect gentleman. He asked Hermione about her life and listened to every single detail she had to say, providing his own opinions and knowledge to each conversation, and even suggested making the tea himself. Needless to say, it was a delectable brew with the perfect amount of milk, damn him.
He stayed for hours, and Hermione begrudgingly admitted that she was having a great time. At Hogwarts Zabini had always appeared to be a mute and frowny teenager, just a serious face shadowed behind Malfoy and Nott. Even Parkinson, sometimes. Now, though, there was only a charming, polite man in his place; and Hermione ended up relaxing completely in his presence when he assured her he no longer believed in blood supremacy, and that he opened his bookshop in Muggle London for that exact reason.
It was like that for about a month: he came to have tea, they talked about everything and nothing at the same time—books, whether they were Muggle or magical; his new Muggle boyfriend Louis, Hermione’s job, his bookshop—, and never once made her feel uncomfortable in his presence. It was nice and refreshing to have a friend that wasn’t a Gryffindor or an eccentric Narggle lover.
That was until a Saturday they’d planned to meet and Ron was staying at her flat after he’d had an argument with Lavender. Knowing her best friend had a temper as hot as his hair, Hermione knew arriving with Blaise wouldn’t be the safest option, so she asked if they could meet at his place instead.
“Unless you prefer having tea in a bookshop then I suggest we go somewhere else,” he said with a wistful smile of perfectly while teeth, “I know a place near here that—”
“You live in the bookshop?” she asked, eyebrows raised to her hairline.
He laughed faintly. “Yes, well, I couldn’t find a place nearer the Palazzo, so I ended up living in the study,” he shrugged, “I managed. I refuse to return to live at a Manor where my whole family would murder my boyfriend if they had a chance. I’m planning to move in with Louis in a few weeks anyway.”
Hermione had wanted to help him, and so she did.
That’s the story of how Blaise Zabini ended up living with her for two weeks.
It’s just that Hermione didn’t know Draco Malfoy was also going to be part of the equation.
“He will only stay for a week, Hermione, I promise.” Blaise pleaded on his knees—quite literally—when Hermione had refused to shelter his friend.
“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t. Draco’s a good bloke, he’s truly changed. Just...just give him a chance, all right? If he does or says anything you don’t like, then you kick him out.”
Hermione said nothing, choosing to sip her tea instead of looking at him.
“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” Blaise continued, “both his parents are dead, and he won’t lay a foot on his Manor. Only a week, until he finds somewhere else to go.”
Hermione sighed, pressing the heels of her hands to her closed eyes. She liked to be helpful, had always been. But it was Malfoy...
But what if he’s not that bad? she thought to herself. Looking at Blaise, and at the true friendship they’d managed to form, she couldn’t see him as a bad person anymore. And if he considered Malfoy had changed…
She rolled her eyes, looking at Blaise’s face. “Only a week, no more.”
Now, looking at the past, Hermione can’t believe she trusted the word of a Slytherin. Slippery assholes, they are.
Draco Malfoy had, in fact, changed dramatically.
He was taller, face with hard edges instead of pointy. His hair was a white-blond mess considerably longer than what he used to have, and it now curled around the ears. Skin as pale as always, but his lean body seemed to have defined muscles just in the right places.
He was, as Ginny would describe him, a snack.
Malfoy was wearing a plain black jersey with a leather jacket on top of it, black military-like pants, and boots the same colour. Hermione’s lips parted when she saw him standing in front of her flat, waiting for Blaise and her to return from the Palazzo. A snack, indeed. Blaise looked at her with a sideways smile and mouthed, “I know.”
When Malfoy looked in her direction and took in the pencil skirt she was wearing, his cheeks turned pink, but a second later his face was the definition of disinterest. “Granger,” he greeted, voice as unexpressive as his face. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Hermione gave him a very tight smile, taking her keys from her purse to open the door. “Malfoy. Of course.”
Blaise smiled openly. “This is going to be so much fun.”
While living only with Blaise was practical, the flat always tidy and clean; sharing the space with Malfoy was the worst decision she’d ever made. Malfoy, besides being an asshole, was an utter mess. If he grabbed anything, either it was a book or a fork or goddamn toilet paper, he never left it where he found it. No matter how much Hermione and Blaise told him to wash the dishes after he ate, or help them clean the house, he never did it. Not even because he had magic; he just wanted to be annoying.
And Hell if he wasn’t.
He was witty, bossy, arrogant and lazy. He had a very large vocabulary when it came to obscene words, and even though his personality was much the same as always, Hermione hated to admit that he had changed. Only a bit, perhaps, but he had.
Malfoy used every single insult he could find to piss her off, but he never called her a Mudblood. Their arguments would most likely to end with him throwing a pillow in her direction, yet he never tried to actually hurt her. And, above all, he was way more easily flustered than Hermione remembered.
If they got too close to each other he immediately stepped back, turning around to hide his scarlet cheeks. He would practically jump when their fingers grazed, or any other piece of skin; and sometimes Hermione found him ogling her, only to rapidly avert his eyes, face flushed, when he was caught. He never reacted that way with Blaise, though, only with Hermione.
It was as if her mere presence made him nervous and self-conscious.
Hermione found it hilarious, so she teased him all the time.
She found herself many times thinking about this sudden behavior of him. She’d never saw him acting nervous before—only with Buckbeak, of course, but the Hippogriff didn’t count—, not even with Pansy Parkinson. Hermione had often heard Lavender and Parvati chatting about his sex life—how he had took Romilda Vane’s virginity in fifth grade, how Padma Patil had found him kissing with an unknown girl behind a trapesty in sixth year once. It wasn’t as if it was Hermione’s business, so she’d never paid attention to their gossip. She hadn’t been interested in Malfoy in any sexual way, thank you very much.
That was until she accidentally opened the bathroom door on him coming out of the shower, with only a towel wrapped around those hips, and yes, he blushed, and yes, he looked nervous; but he smirked at her and didn’t tell her to get out. That was the exact moment she decided that he wasn’t that bad when he wasn’t talking, and that maybe she had a little crush on him.
Blaise left after his two weeks, as he promised. Hermione was happy to finally see him move in with his boyfriend, as he had wanted, though she still had another flatmate for the next five days.
Five days passed. Malfoy didn’t leave.
At first Hermione thought he’d simply forgotten his week living with her was due that day. Before, whenever Blaise or her asked him if he’d already found a place where to stay, his response was always the same—a groan and a no in a clipped tone. Hermione assumed he was looking for a flat, or even a new Manor, given how wealthy he was. He was a co-owner of a Potions shop in Knockturn Alley, and it wasn’t a secret to anyone that Malfoy & Parkinson was the most reliable place to buy any type of potion, and always of the best quality.
Parkinson was married to Luna, so Hermione understood perfectly why he couldn’t stay with them, but he had money. What was the issue, then? Why living with Hermione, of all witches?
The worst part of all? Hermione never asked him to leave. She was lonely most of the time, because all her friends were busy with their jobs and with their own families, and her co-workers weren't—aren’t, still—exactly her friends. Hermione didn’t know if Malfoy’s company was better than Crookshanks’s, but it was company after all.
So now, three weeks passed and he’s still there.
And Hermione is going to die of sexual frustration.
She hasn’t slept with anyone since Blaise moved in, and her vibrator has become her best friend. She’s now laying back on her bed, curtains closed to the night and the sounds of rain and faint moans the only thing surrounding her.
She’s imagining him when she circles her clit with the vibrator, of course. Of his defined body and Gryffindor-red cheeks—she wonders if he would dress with her old Gryffindor tie while he’s laying under Hermione with her on top of him, and the thought makes her release a particularly loud moan, suddenly thankful for the Muffiato she’s casted on the room.
She imagines Malfoy moaning her name. Stuttering while he’s trying to formulate words he can’t even think about because he’s too lost in the way she’s riding him. Hermione moans breathily, her belly flutters and her cunt spasms and she’s there, she’s there, she’s there—
A very loud chord of femenine moans breaks her thoughts—moans that aren’t hers. Hermione is so startled by the sudden noise that her body jerks in surprise, and her hand unwillingly yanks the vibrator so hard it unplugges.
She can hear Malfoy cursing over the moans. “Fuck, fuck, no—how do I—”
“Malfoy?” Hermione calls, heart still beating faster than usual. She was seconds away from coming, and now her whole body is alert.
She groans, grabbing just an oversized T-shirt to cover her naked body, and walks out of the room in a hurry. Is he hurt? Why are there moans?
She opens his door.
"Malfoy, is everything o—" her jaw falls to the floor.
"Granger, get the fuck out!" he yells at her, body turning inwards to hide—
To hide his erection and the video playing on the computer. Hermione gapes. For the love of God, he's watching porn.
She doesn't get out. Doesn't move a centimeter, actually. Her mouth is still open in shock, and her body hasn’t recovered yet from the attentions she was giving herself earlier, so she can't help but clench her thighs together—taking in his flushed cheeks, the way he nervously turns around to conceal his obvious arousal and the monitor in front of him, still reproducing the image of a woman with hickory curls bouncing on top of a cock; her moans so loud Hermione would be surprised if the whole neighbourhood hasn't heard them yet.
Malfoy is watching porn, and he's aroused, and he's embarrassed.
She’s never expected to find him in this situation, though it’s everything she dreamed. Her mouth practically waters.
"What are you doing?" she asks calmly.
Malfoy doesn't look at her—cheeks still flaming, torso still bent inwardly. "I told you to get out." He says in a tight voice, though when the woman in the porn video moans again, his eyes fall shut, and the hand covering his crotch twitches almost imperceptibly.
This is...well, this is certainly something.
She just looks at him for a moment, until he’s finally looking back at her. None of them say anything, none of them move as their ears are still filling with porn-like moans. Malfoy breathes in, his hand moving faintly again over his erection—still looking at Hermione. He clearly has intentions of continuing whatever he was doing.
Hermione makes up her mind.
His eyes snap in her direction when he hears the door being closed. "What—what are you doing?"
Hermione walks towards him, standing in front of the computer. She bends slightly to grab the mouse—making sure to give Malfoy a good sight of her shirt-covered arse—and exits the full-screen mode of the video, pausing it in the process. It's the porn site she likes the most, she notices.
There's a sentence written on the searching bar. Short woman with brown eyes and wild brown curls. Hermione bites her lip to stop herself from laughing, but when she gets to the tags part and sees the femdom one ticked, she has to clench her thighs together once again.
She fucking knew it.
"What—" Malfoy is starting to ask, but he cuts himself when Hermione turns to look at him over her shoulder.
He's now leaning back in the bed, lips wet, face red to the neck, and eyes so dark they look almost black.
She smirks. "That woman looks really similar to me."
His eyes widen and his lips part to inhale sharply. "It—It's not—" he stutters, and groans annoyingly. "Fuck off, Granger, it's not what it looks like."
Hermione steps in his direction, stopping just between his opened legs. She looks down at him, examining his face. "You were jerking off to the thought of me, Malfoy?"
He blushes even more violently, frowning at her; but when she expects him to spit a witty remark, he actually nods. Sneers at her, though his eyes are pleading.
Hermione smiles, leaning until her mouth is centimetres to his, and he's practically shaking. "Do you want me to ride you like the woman in the video, hmm?"
He looks up at her and then averts his eyes fastly. "Stop mocking me," he whispers.
Hermione feels her nipples harden against her shirt, making her flinch slightly at the sensation. He thinks she's making fun of him. He has no idea how much she wants him—how much she’s wanted him all this time.
"I'm not mocking you at all," he looks at her again under dark eyelashes, "you don't have to be embarrassed. I also touch myself thinking about you sometimes, you know," she says nonchalantly.
Malfoy gasps, wetting his lips once again. "You do?"
This is her opportunity. Hermione makes a bold move: “Can I?” she asks, looking at his legs.
He probably doesn’t know what she means, but he nods anyway.
Shifting her legs so that they're straddling one of his, she leans forward, sitting on his thigh with their chests pressed together. She's thankful to herself for wearing that oversized T-shirt, so the only thing between his skin and hers is the fabric of his pyjama trousers.
"Mhm," she hums, feeling herself getting wetter when he stops breathing and looks at her with so much need… She bites her lip. "How did you find Muggle porn?"
He swallows, raising a hand through his hair in a nervous movement. "Blaise told me about it."
Malfoy looks at her with a hopeful expression. He wants her, but he's too nervous to ask, Hermione notices.
She's dreamed about this moment since they found themselves living together, just the two of them, and Hermione realized how nervous Malfoy got when she was too close to him. Always fighting with her and matching her wit perfectly, but when she got too close he practically squirmed and forgot himself.
She squeezes his thigh with her legs, and he exhales. She cups his cheek with her hand, thumb brushing an eyelash away. "Do you want me to ride you, Malfoy?" She asks again.
He looks up at her, almost sheepishly. "Yes."
Hermione's heart jumps, excited. She leans forward until her lips are beside his ear, brushing his skin as she speaks. "I want you to touch yourself first."
She feels his erection hardening against her knee, and she slowly rubs herself down on his thigh, sighing at the sensation. His breath hitches, eyes widening.
"You want me to wank in front of you?"
"Only if you want to," She bites her lip, pressing her knee lightly on the bulge of his pants.
Malfoy parts his lips, a breathy sigh coming out. His legs are shaking while she continues to rock back and forth on his thigh, angling her hips to hit the spot that makes her moan the loudest. Her arms are tangled around his neck, and her lips are near his ear.
"Come on, don't you wanna see me getting off on your thigh?"
He seems to consider himself. Takes a deep breath, moving his shaky hands to grab himself under the hem of his pyjama pants; and as he groans, tightening his grip, Hermione changes the angle of her thrusts and moans on his ear. “Fuck,” she breathes a laugh. “You’re so good at following instructions, aren’t you?”
He moans, eyes closing and hand gripping harder—moving faster. He hasn’t even taken himself out of his pants and he’s already panting, platinum hair falling down to cover his eyes as a curtain.
Hermione looks right into his eyes as she takes the hem of her shirt and starts slowly pulling it up, revealing herself right under her breasts. Malfoy sighs, following the movement with glassy eyes. “Take it off,” he pleads, eyes never leaving the spot on his thigh where she’s wetting his pants. “Take it off, please.”
“Not yet, Malfoy.” Hermione leans forward, opening her thighs further and slowing her thrusts—watching him pant for her has her as wet as she’s ever been, and she doesn’t want to finish until he’s right at the edge with her. She presses light kisses on his neck, nipping at the skin and earning a groan from him.
“Granger—”
“You’re doing so well,” she bites the spot below his ear, just beside his jaw, and his hips thrust upwards, “take out your cock now, I wanna see you.”
Malfoy moans, his head falling lightly to the left so that his throat is completely exposed to her, and Hermione stops moving her hips, waiting for him to gather courage. She stands on her knees to give him access, and he finally yanks his pants down until they’re resting on his shins.
Hermione moves her hips unwillingly at the sight of his cock—he’s thicker than she expected and longer than she has taken, with precum already lubing the pink head.
Malfoy looks at her sheepishly with sleepy eyes, his hand jerking up once.
“So hard for me,” she murmurs against his neck, resisting the urge to capture his lips with hers. She’s not going to kiss him yet.
His throat bobs as he swallows, goosebumps covering the skin of his arms.
“You like it when I talk to you, hmm?” A long lick from the base of his throat to the center of it, and he whimpers.
Her hands find his shirt and he stops touching himself to take it off—leaving his naked chest exposed to her. Hermione licks her lips, cunt spasming around nothing. “You’re so beautiful, Malfoy.”
He scowls, “don’t call me that.”
Hermione breathes a laugh, finally removing her shirt like he asked. Malfoy immediately grabs his cock again, his eyes scanning her body with the same fervor she scanned his. Hermione’s fingers find her core, spreading lightly the moisture. “But you—ah—but you are beautiful.”
Malfoy groans, anchoring the arm he’s not using around her waist—encouraging her to move faster against his leg. Hermione smiles to herself, pressing two fingers inside her. “And you do like it when I praise you, don’t you?”
He scoffs, eyes glued to her fingers.
Hermione frowns, one hand flying to his wrist, stopping his movement, and the other one grabbing him by the chin—wet fingers against his skin, the scent of her arousal surrounding them. He holds his breath in surprise, and she leans until their lips are only a breath appart. “If I ask you something then I expect an answer.” His eyes widen, and she squeezes his face, tongue poking out to lick lightly his parted lips.
“Oh—okay,” he sighs against her mouth.
She bites his lower lip, dragging it slowly towards her, and he pants, eyes pressing shut as the hand grabbing his wrist reaches forward until her fingers are around his cock. “Good boy.”
Malfoy moans, hips thrusting upwards when she starts jerking him off. “Oh, fuck.”
“That feels good?” her thumb circles the tip of his cock, and he moans again, this time louder. “You gonna come for me, Malfoy?”
He remembers her previous order, and nods, suddenly forgetting that she's Hermione Granger and he's not supposed to be pleading her anything. “Yes, yes, please—oh, shit—please go faster.”
Hermione could come just by seeing him like this, she thinks.
“Don’t come yet,” she tells him, her hand gripping him even tighter.
His eyes roll to the back of his head. “Fuck, Granger, please—”
“Mmm,” she hums against his lips, “I want you to make me come first. Could you do that for me, love?”
Malfoy parts his lips in a silent moan and nods eagerly.
Hermione can’t help but release a groan when his thumb finally finds the place where she needs him the most—stroking on her entrance to gather moisture, and then reaching up to circle her clit. “Yeah, just like that.” She bites his shoulder, fastening the peace of her hand in an attempt to make him feel the same pleasure she’s feeling. He finally puts a finger inside of her, and she moans. “You’re so good. Such a good boy for me.”
“I’m gonna come,” he moans. “I’m gonna—I need to—”
“Shh, I know what you need. Lie back for me, come on.”
He obeys, hands skimming the sides of her waist as he lies back on the bed, and he’s finally how she’s wanted him for so long: vulnerable, trusting her to do this in a way that surprises her.
She smiles at his mesmerised expresion, stroking his chest with a hand and smile deepening when she sees the way he shudders as she caresses his left nipple. She makes sure to squeeze his fingers with her inner muscles, riding them in a suggestive movement. “Tell me what you want.”
Malfoy curls his fingers to hit the spot inside of her that makes her see stars, and she gasps, reaching a hand in his direction to wrap it around his throat—fingers still wet from touching him before.
His cock twitches.
“You like it when I choke you?” she raises her eyebrows, surprised at the discovery.
Malfoy blushes to the chest, averting his eyes. "Fuck off," he murmurs.
The sudden fact and his fingers still working on her have her moaning again. "Make me come like this and I might choke you after."
His eyes lighten up—brows furrowing in concentration as he curls too fingers inside of her, thumb still stimulating her clit. Hermione rides his hand as she imagines riding his cock—in fast movements, angling her hips forward and back and forward and back, and his other hand finds her breast to play with her nipple and it feels so good so good so good—
"Please," he pants, watching her mesmerised. "Please come."
His pleas do it for her—she comes on his fingers, biting her lip to keep herself from cursing out loud. His movements slow down as she rides out her orgasm, covering his hand with hers so that she can keep it where she needs it the most.
When Hermione comes down from the high, he's looking at her as though she's the answer to all of his questions. She smiles openly at him, leaning forward to press a light peck on his lips. "Thank you."
She feels his cock twitching against her navel, a whimper escaping his lips as she rocks her hips forward, rubbing her core against the length of him. "You were such a good boy," she tells him, gripping his cock with her hand, "I'm gonna fuck you like you deserve."
They both moan when Hermione rubs just the head of his cock against her folds, her hands reaching out to grab his and pin them at both sides of his head.
Malfoy whines, biting his lip and looking at her mouth.
"What do you want?" Hermione asks while lining the tip of him with her entrance.
"Kiss me, k—kiss—" his mouth drops open when she lowers herself down on him, only an inch of him stretching her out. "Oh, fuck. Kiss me, Granger."
Malfoy is lazy, and mean, and an asshole. But he looks so fucking beautiful, and his moans are so pretty, and he follows her instructions so good. He's so good for her. She wants to remember this moment forever.
Hermione rewards him, finally pressing their lips together, and they both groan at the contact. She kisses him hard and hungry, releasing all the tension she's felt since she saw him again. Malfoy squeezes her hands with his while he returns the kiss with the same intensity, his tongue caressing her mouth and his teeth biting lightly on her lower lip, and Hermione can't control it anymore.
With her tongue inside of his mouth she lowers her hips together, succeeding at impaling herself in a fast movement that has them moaning hard against each other's mouths.
Hermione breaks the kiss to look at him. She doesn't give him a chance to get used to the sensation—she changes her weight on her knees and starts thrusting fast, up and down, up and down.
But his face—brows furrowed as if in pain, eyes slowly rolling back, eyelids fluttering and lips parted, only whimpers coming out of them. Hermione feels herself getting closer, and she leans back to hit her G-spot right how she wants it.
"Yes, just like that," she pants.
Hermione grabs both of Malfoy's hands and puts them above his head, encouraging him to grab his wrist with the other hand and keep them pinned there. "Don't move them," she orders him.
"Granger...I'm so close…"
Her cunt clenches down on him. "Take a little bit more for me, can you do that?"
Hermione waits for him to nod and then grabs his throat fastly, making him choke on his moans at the sudden movement. His eyes widen at her. "You like that, yeah?" her clit rubs against his pelvis when she thrusts forward again. "You like my hand around your throat? You look so pretty like this… come on, open your mouth for me."
Malfoy parts his lips, moaning loudly when she tightens her grip on his neck at the same time she fastens the peace of her hips against him, riding him successfully.
Hermione puts her middle and ring finger down on his mouth, making him gag against them. "You're making too much noise, Malfoy. Be quiet. Come on, you're being so good."
She knows he's about to come, the stimulation of her hand choking him and her fingers down his throat, lips and tongue sucking on them, combined with the way she's snapping her hips harder and faster and deeper—she can see the way it affects him.
Hermione's eyes roll back on her head, suddenly seeing stars. Her toes curl at the sensations and her cunt spasms around him.
"Ngh—Her—mngh" he moans nonsensely.
"Say my name, Draco, say my name when you come."
His cock throbs inside of her and he sucks harder on her fingers, his face Gryffindor-red at hearing his name on her lips.
She needs—she's almost—
Hermione puts her fingers out of his mouth and trails them to his nipple again, playing with it and making him shudder, head finally falling back in a moan.
"I'm coming, I'm coming—please, please—" he whimpers, "I'm—H—Hermione."
She comes in a chore of moans, kissing him hard to mute his pleas as she rides both of their orgasms out. Malfoy's still panting against her mouth while their movements slow down, tongues tangling in a lazy movement.
Hermione is still seeing stars when her body has finally stopped moving and falls down on him, both of them wet with sweat and their combined arousal. She can feel his cock soften inside of her, so she breaks the kiss with little pecks.
"You did so well," she praises him, watching intently as his sleepy expression gives space to a pleased smile. "You were so good for me, I'm so proud of you."
Malfoy's arms come down to hug her down on him, and he hides his face in the crook of her neck. "Thank you," he sighs.
Hermione plays with his hair lightly, enjoying the feeling of his pleased sighs against her skin. She feels greater than she's ever felt after sex. And this time it's even better—she has just slept with the man she's wanted for a very long while, and it was so mind-blowing she can't even formulate a straight thought.
Hermione knows they'll need to talk about this tomorrow, but she pays no mind to the issue. She's too sleepy anyways, and she doesn't want to think about the future when she's tangled up with his sweaty body.
She's too tired, but she's in his arms, and even though she knows she will never like every aspect of Draco Malfoy, she's not worried. She has this moment with him, no matter if it's the first time and the last time. And she feels safe.