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Draco Malfoy paced and sweated in the empty Slytherin common room.
“McGonagall! Bloody McGonagall!” he kept muttering.
There had been a crackdown on cheating lately, initiated by the Gryffindor head of house and resulting in much of Draco’s work over the past few months being invalidated. In every other class, he had managed to connive and bribe and wriggle his way into a passing grade, but in Transfiguration he had completely run out of options.
Professor McGonagall was going to run a mid-year test for students she thought weren’t achieving at the proper level – cheaters and slackers, essentially. It was a surprisingly small list of students, but Draco was on it. To make things worse, McGonagall was writing each test so they were custom made for each troubled student. She was going to needle him on every section he had struggled with, and test him on the parts he had cheated on in the past, until eventually he would be left with no choice but to admit he was well behind – maybe even a year behind.
There didn’t seem to be a way out. Getting a copy of the test in advance was impossible – McGonagall took the papers with her wherever she went. Cheating on the test on the day was also impossible – he was already under suspicion and McGonagall was so much harder to slip things past than the other teachers.
And worst of all, McGonagall had looked him straight in the eye and told him that if he wants to have any hope of passing this year, he would need a study partner… someone like Hermione Granger.
At the time, Draco had barely stifled his horror. Now, it was starting to look like he had no choice.
With the test closing in, Draco had been forced to push through barrier after barrier of things he swore he would never do. None of them were enough. He needed a study partner on Granger’s level.
And so it was that he waited outside the library one evening, having overheard Granger tell her friends she was going to stay out a bit later than usual. This was apparently the norm at this point in the term, but only Granger took it this far. It was nearly curfew by the time he spotted her approaching.
With a deep breath, Draco stepped out from the alcove he had been lurking in.
Granger stopped immediately, her wand flashing into her hand. She even glanced behind her to see if she was being surrounded. Draco winced at her defensive posture. Forget difficult, was this even going to be possible?
“Granger,” he said by way of greeting, nodding as politely as he could manage.
“Malfoy,” she replied, frowning, her eyes still darting into shadows, no doubt looking for Crabbe and Goyle.
“I’m alone.”
“Yes, well, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” Her tone was acid.
Draco sighed. “I’m here because of McGonagall.”
“Professor McGonagall.”
Draco grit his teeth. “Yes. Professor McGonagall.”
Finally satisfied that there wasn’t a trap – at least not an obvious one – Granger stared at him in confusion. “What about her? I can’t imagine she sent you to deliver a message to me. She’s much better at conflict avoidance than that.”
And there went the plan. Draco had intended to say exactly that – to pretend that McGonagall had asked Granger to help him. It was flimsy at best, and now completely invalidated by Granger’s casual scepticism.
“I… There’s a Transfiguration test coming up,” Draco managed, pushing past his sense of hopelessness. “She told me I should find a study partner, and suggested you.”
Granger blinked slowly. “Are you serious?”
Draco cringed and shrugged. “It was her suggestion. I’m just… following her advice.”
“Given the fact that the only Transfiguration test coming up is the one for all the cheaters that were caught to see what their actual level of knowledge is, I’m guessing you were one of them and have now been reduced to asking someone you hate for help. I suppose the consequences for failing the test will be severe?”
Swallowing, Draco nodded.
Granger nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a shame.” Then she walked straight past him.
“Granger!” Draco exclaimed. “Do you want me to beg?”
That stopped her. She turned to look at him. “Sure.” Her face was strangely neutral.
Silence ruled for scant moments before Draco bowed his head and forced himself to speak.
“Please, help me pass this test, Granger. If I fail, I might have to repeat the year. My family will be even more humiliated. I know you hate me, but think of my mother. Hasn’t she been through enough? I’m not asking you to help me cheat, I’m asking you to help me study so I don’t need to cheat. Please, Granger.”
Granger blinked slowly, her face still eerily blank. What was she thinking?
“Kiss my arse, Malfoy,” she said.
Draco slumped. “Please. What more can I do? I have money, despite everything. I could pay you for your time. Generously.”
Granger took a few steps closer. “You misunderstand me, Malfoy. You want my help? I want you to literally kiss my arse.”
Draco stared, speechless. His mouth opened and closed. The corridor around him dissolved into static, and all he could see were mocking brown eyes.
“Alright,” he said hoarsely. “If that’s what it takes.”
Granger raised an eyebrow. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? Do you know what I’m asking? I’m not looking for a peck on the ‘cheek’, so to speak.”
“I know. I’ll do it.” Draco couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. It felt like they were coming from someone else.
Granger turned on her heel, her skirts swishing as she faced away. Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded downwards.
“Kneel,” she said.
Draco scowled viciously, but it quickly lost its power when confronted with the same raised eyebrow. In the time it took to slump down to his knees, Draco rapidly re-evaluated his situation, frantically searching for another way forward. He found none. His knees hit the floor with a muffled thump of finality.
Granger’s rear was in line with his face. Her grey Hogwarts skirt ended precisely just above the knee. The faint scent of floral perfume reached his nose. Her calves were pale and smooth, ending in her socks that were pulled to exactly the same height. It seemed somehow blasphemous that such an ideal schoolgirl, such a rule-following bookworm, could even have private parts underneath her skirt.
Granger bent forward slightly, lowering her hands and drawing the sides of her skirt up with her fingers. With her rear still mostly covered, she hooked her thumbs and pulled her knickers down to her lower thighs.
Until that moment, Draco realised that part of him had still believed this was a joke, or that she would abort halfway through. Gazing at the innocuous pair of white knickers now suspended between her thighs, he finally realised this was actually happening.
Some resilient part of his ego searched the tangle of cotton hungrily for something, anything that could assuage his current pain. A stain, a mark, a drop of liquid – anything that could be used against her or at the very least remind him that she was a filthy Mudblood no matter how proper she acted. But there was nothing. No sign of messiness or arousal. This truly was for her purely intellectual gratification.
Draco watched in hopeless anticipation as Granger now raised the rear of her skirt. Creamy thighs slowly gave way to two pale globes. Draco realised he was panting slightly. Even Pansy had never given him more than a glimpse of her nethers, and what he’d seen didn’t compare to this.
Granger had a well-rounded rear, with not a single blemish or scar, despite the ridiculous things she and her friends got up to. The scent of soap now mingled with something musky and thrilling.
Leaning forward, Granger pushed her bottom out, and with a final, decisive movement, she sunk her fingers into her cheeks and pulled them apart, exposing herself to Draco.
Between her thighs, soft, elegant folds were visible within a bushy clump of brown hair, not dissimilar to the hair on her head. But above, directly between her cheeks, Draco finally met the recipient of his imminent kiss. Small, round, wrinkled, and a darker shade of skin than the rest of her privates, the Mudblood’s anus winked at Draco.
Draco simply stared. The musky scent that had so thrilled him a moment ago, and which he had hoped came from further down, instead revealed itself as the natural smell of sweat that had built up between her cheeks over the school day.
How low had he fallen for his heart to race at the merest whiff of Granger’s bottom? At a moment like this, the thought was merely tossed onto the pile of private humiliations he had suffered lately.
“This isn’t for you to ogle,” Granger said sharply. “I told you what to do.”
Draco jumped, so invested in his own misery that he had forgotten why he was on his knees in the first place.
He swallowed heavily, staring at his goal. “You will help me if I do this, right?” he asked.
Granger shifted her weight impatiently, making her cheeks bounce a little. “Stop stalling.”
Draco licked his lips, then wondered why. Any moment now, Granger would whip her knickers back up and walk away, and he would have nothing to show for all his begging. He couldn’t even try to flip it around and embarrass her for letting him see her privates, because she could easily flip it back on him and say he forced her to undress at wandpoint. Of the pair of them, who had been known to attack and humiliate students, and who was the best in the year? Regardless of evidence, Draco would be doomed.
Granger moved slightly, and Draco panicked, thinking his window was closing. Without thinking, he leaned in and pressed his lips against that puckered ring. This close, the musk was all he could smell. Her white cheeks were either side of his face. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening.
Slowly, he withdrew, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Granger’s anus.
Immediately, Granger stood up straight and let her skirt drop. With swift movements she pulled her knickers up and turned around.
Draco remained on his knees, blinking in disbelief as he stared up at her. Gone was the haughtiness from her face. Gone was the raised chin and faint nervousness and anger that had been present in all their interactions over the years.
Now there was only a smirk, cruel and satisfied.
Draco felt something sink inside his chest.
“You said you’d help me,” he mumbled, knowing it was useless.
Granger’s eyes narrowed in the semblance of amused pity. “No, I didn’t. At no point did I agree to do anything for you. All I did was tell you to kiss my arse. Which you did.” Her smile widened. “How was it? Did it taste good?”
Draco tried to muster some fury. “It tasted like shit!” he lied, spitting on the floor.
Granger only laughed. “Really? That’s funny. Now whenever you call me a Mudblood, or try to get innocent animals executed, or good people fired, or say you wish I was dead, or any of the other awful things you do regularly, I want you to remember the taste of my Mudblood arse.” She turned on her heel once more and walked away, saying over her shoulder, “Good luck on the Transfiguration test!”
Her giggles echoed long after she rounded the corner, and cut Draco as deeply as if she was still standing over him.
It took more willpower than he’d ever needed in his life to stand up instead of collapsing on the floor.
No doubt she wouldn’t hesitate to tell Potter and Weasley about his latest humiliation. He could already see them in his mind, laughing together from across the Great Hall, making kissy faces. The Mudblood probably let the two of them take turns with the same hole he had just kissed.
Face burning with shame, traitorous heart racing in his chest, and pants uncomfortably tight, Draco turned to make the long walk back to the dungeons.