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The clock read three AM, the peacock was staring at her, and she was currently having an orgasm around Draco Malfoy's cock.

As had happened numerous times in her life following her eleventh birthday, Hermione Granger found herself wide awake and cursing the fact that her current predicament was all Harry's fault.

-----

5 Hours Earlier

It was a holiday weekend and Hermione had made grand plans involving too many cuppas, an avalanche of blankets, a fantasy trilogy she'd yet to start, and the earnest attempt to fuse her arse with her settee.

Instead, she was under Ministry surveillance halfway across the country, ordered to speak at a conference for magical law enforcement, staying in a ridiculously small hotel room, and sharing a bed with Draco sodding Malfoy.

And it was all Harry's fault.

It had been his grand idea after all, to ignore their requests to be moved to separate squads. He had instead decided (in a move that rivaled Dumbledore for inane, meddlesome stupidity) to force them into a 'team-building exercise' and make them co-present the London Branch's session on Curse Breaking for the Modern Auror in his stead. He'd spouted nonsense about 'teams only being as strong as their weakest links' and 'good morale requiring the participation of all parties' - but it was horse shite. Harry didn't want to give the presentation, and sending her and Malfoy together served the dual purpose of getting them out of his hair and making it look like he was attempting to mediate the mutual abhorrence that she and Malfoy wielded like a weapon in shared environments.

Making matters worse, he hadn't actually trusted them to behave. To ensure they neither killed each other nor leveled the conference in an attempt, Harry had forced them to bring along the stuffed peacock he'd charmed as a 'nanny cam' when his boys had been infants. If she and Malfoy were together, the peacock had to be with them; and while it had been entertaining to watch Malfoy strut about the opening reception with the beak and frill of a stuffed children's toy protruding from his satchel, the knowledge that she HAD to play nice chafed.

Instead of employing the myriad of creative hexes she'd normally have used when faced with 72 hours of near unobstructed Malfoy exposure, she'd had to settle for charming his tie fuchsia and turning his dragon-hide loafers a revolting shade of puce. He hadn't even reacted, if he'd noticed at all. It was enough to drive a woman mad.

In Harry's (only) defense, they were supposed to have separate rooms - but the last minute addition of a second traveler got lost in communication and she and Malfoy had arrived to a single room, with a single (albeit large) bed, no sofa or chair to speak of, and remarkably strong anti-transfiguration wards in place considering the quality of the linens.

If there'd been a tub, she'd have crawled into it and passed out happily, but her only options besides the bed were a rickety wooden chair that looked ready to collapse at the slightest breeze and a floor she wasn't certain would ever be comfortable nor clean, no matter how many spells she threw at it.

So she'd reluctantly sucked up her pride and forged a tentative truce with Malfoy. Only for the two nights of the conference and only when in the room, they would co-exist in relative peace. Otherwise, they'd ignore each other. And as long as he kept his ridiculously large body on his side of the bed, she wouldn't be forced to hex off anything he might miss.

Draco had stayed in worse places in his lifetime, but not recently enough to really draw comparison to the dreary accommodation they were currently faced with. And it was a 'they', because for some Merlin's forsaken reason he'd been forced into this disaster with the sodding Golden Girl herself. What the fuck Potter had been thinking was beyond him, but if Granger killed him in the course of the weekend he'd be billing his funeral to the Ministry.

When they'd arrived at the hotel and learned of their predicament, he'd immediately waved his Gringotts account around, attempting everything he could think of to get another room. But with the conference in, and some bleeding solstice festival happening down the lane, everything had been booked. Including the seven other hotels he'd contacted in his need to be anywhere else but trapped in a shared bed with Granger.

He could grudgingly admit that in the years since the war he'd mellowed. He'd fallen into a strange friendship with Potter - one that extended to Red (by nature of her being his wife) and then bled somewhat into the other miscreants that Potter surrounded himself with. He could even suffer a pint with Weasley without too much headache, provided the conversation never strayed away from the current Quidditch season or episodes of that stupid vampire hunter dramedy they'd gotten him hooked on (after Red had insisted on installing a 'telly' in his flat and forced him to watch six episodes in a row). But Granger - to say there was 'no love lost' between them would be the biggest understatement uttered since that oaf of a games keeper at Hogwarts had referred to a hydra as a 'temperamental little thing'.

Draco didn't necessarily hate her any longer, but he was filled with an irrational loathing whenever forced to reckon with her presence. She was sanctimonious, brazen, over bearing - and far too intelligent for her own good. It was a rare day that they could interact without the conversation devolving to hexes, and on some occasions, blows. The kitchenette in the DMLE had a notice board that tallied the number of days they'd managed to go without an argument - placed there as a joke early on in his tenure with the Aurors but now the most frequently used item in the room after the kettle. In three years, he'd never seen the number go higher than four.

So saying he was displeased with his current circumstance would have severely undermined his acrimony for everything at that moment, particularly one bushy-haired know-it-all and the bespectacled Head Auror nee 'Boy Who Lived' who was responsible for the current predicament.

"I'll take the bathroom first."

He grabbed a pair of shorts and his toilette, and waltzed into the asininely small bathroom. With the door shut he could almost pretend she wasn't even there.

Once she heard the fall of the shower, Hermione opened her overnight bag and scoured through her things, donning every layer of clothing she'd packed that might be comfortable to sleep in. Armor in place, she gathered her own toiletries and perched on the bed to wait, impatient and agitated, until he finished.

The second she heard the latch she darted up, moving toward the door - only to stop dead in her tracks as Malfoy emerged from the loo, sauntered past her, and tossed himself onto the bed.

In pants.

In just loose, grey pants.

Motherfucker.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like, Granger? I'm going to bed."

He yanked the covers down and settled himself beneath them, pulling the fabric halfway up his chest.

"Malfoy - "

"I am tired, Granger. We worked all day, we traveled by portkey, we lost time and energy attempting to transfigure the bed, unsuccessfully I might remind you, and through it all we've been stuck together. And now you won't stop talking. I need sleep to be able deal with you tomorrow without one of us dying.

Hermione stalked to the side of the bed, glaring down at him.

"I am well aware of the day we've had, you insufferable prat. I am nearly falling over from exhaustion. But you can't go to bed."

"And why is that?"

"You're not wearing clothes!"

"I'm wearing shorts, Granger."

"Those aren't shorts, those are pants."

"They're shorts. Don't be a prude. All the necessary bits are covered."

Malfoy accioed a vial of liquid from his bag, pulled the stopper, and downed it in one go. Then he rolled away from her and with a heavy sigh, started to snore.

For the love of all -

Bloody, sodding prat. She seriously considered hexing him in his sleep, but remembered the peacock at the last second. Instead of causing him lasting bodily harm, she heaved a ragged breath.

She could do this. She could make it through the weekend, and then she'd force Harry to give her time off to make up for the reading she wasn't getting to do while stuck in this disaster.

She used the bathroom quickly, cleaning her teeth and face.

Then, protected by her multiple layers of clothing, she gingerly climbed into the bed and under the covers, rolling onto her side as far from Malfoy as possible. And despite everything, she was asleep in seconds.

---

Now

The remnants of her dream hung in her mind like a curtain, drawing slowly over the details her mind was forgetting. It had been years since she'd had an erotic dream, and the weaving of her fantasy was still bleeding through her.

She felt warm, enveloped, safe.

She was also painfully, and uncomfortably aroused. The type of arousal that only happened when you were just on the cusp, and the fall failed to materialize.

With a flutter her eyes slowly cracked open, meeting the glare of a clock pane and the eerily blank eyes of the peacock. She huffed and shifted her gaze to the floor, eyebrows raising at the mess.

There was a mountain of clothing strewn about the wood on her side that looked remarkably familiar, and she realized with a jolt that she must have undressed in her sleep. In the privacy of her flat she preferred light garments for night time, and her unconscious brain must have determined that even current circumstances didn't warrant being uncomfortable, pushing her dream addled mind to remove the layers until she was down to an oversized tank a pair of loose-fitting sleep shorts.

She was annoyed and uncomfortable - but it had been such a good dream. Hermione sank back into the warmth of the bed still half awake, shifting her body to take greatest advantage of the heat surrounding her when she felt something shift behind her and froze - hastening clarity bringing several realizations at once:

The edge of the mattress was farther away than it had been when she'd fallen asleep.

The warmth enveloping her wasn't coming from the mattress, but from a firm hard body aligned against her back, arms secured tightly about her form, and legs tangled with her own.

Those arms ended in large hands. Large hands that were currently pressed to her front; one cupping a breast beneath her tank, while the other lay heavy and hot over the fabric between her thighs with a finger dipped slightly into the depression between her folds.

Those legs had muscular thighs and knees that pressed between her own, opening her to said hands.

Full lucidity crashed into her, brain rioting at the conflicting emotions racing in the realization that not only had she had a wet dream while in bed with Malfoy, but he was clutching her - groping her - and she was perilously near climax.

Panicking and gasping she shifted again, pushing away, only to have the gravity of the mattress and the strength of his embrace sink her further into him.

Then she was gasping for other reasons, feeling a press and push at her folds as what could only be Malfoy's cock sank into her.

She couldn't stop her reaction - so close already from the power of her dream, the teasing force of his hands, and now experiencing the slide of his thickness through her sensitive flesh.

She moaned.

And then she came.

Hard.

There was a growl, a heavy exhale against her neck, and a low, gruff voice whispered against her ear.

"Fuck. Granger."

What in bloody Merlin's name was happening?

This was the kind of ludicrous situation that occurred in one of those stupid novels that Daphne and Pansy devoured - the one's whose covers featured ripped corsets, and over-defined muscles, and too much hair blowing in an unseen wind. This didn't actually happen in real life, and certainly not when the people caught in said situation were him and Granger.

But Draco's cock was rigid, the tip pressed into her folds, and he groaned at the feel of her pussy shuddering and quaking around him.

Waking with a start - the downed dreamless sleep draught's efficacy fading after a few short hours - he'd quickly come to the awareness that in the lull of slumber he'd shifted across the bed, wrapped Granger in his arms, and planted his hands across her tits and her quim. He'd jolted, intending to move away, return back to the safety of his side of the bed. But she'd shifted, sliding her curves against him in her sleep.

And then a twitch from his cock had brought him to the next startling realization - he was hard.

And worse, he was exposed - his erection growing at just the right angle to slip the confines of one leg of his loose shorts in its desire to reach her heat.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, bloody sodding fuck.

This was Granger. Insufferable, ridiculous, swotty Granger. His body was not supposed to be reacting like this to her, and yet he was harder than he'd been in years and contemplating the logistics of getting to the bathroom without waking her so he could beat one out just to take the edge off. It didn't help that he was pressed into her on all sides, the soft plushness of her cotton clad arse molded across his erection. Nor did it help that she smelled like sin; vanilla and cloves and whiskey, and something sweeter, muskier hinting at him beneath the rest.

He'd never noticed her scent before.

But then, he'd never had his face buried in her curls either.

Fuck.

Quidditch scores.

McGonagall's tits.

Snape's saggy ball sack.

He was back in control, just preparing to roll away, when she pressed more firmly into him with angled hips, the head of his cock nudging under the hem of her shorts with the movement and sliding between her slightly parted thighs. And then he was drowning in searing, wet warmth as her cunt slid onto him, enveloping his head and an inch of his length.

He held his breath - alert - hard - admittedly panicked - waiting to see how she would react upon waking and realizing that he was inside her. And then he catapulted into ecstasy as she suddenly came, a ragged breath tearing from her throat as she pulsed, quivering and clenching on his length.

Words fell unbidden from his lips, low and rough.

"Fuck. Granger."

She shook in his arms, head tipping back into his shoulder, her scent washing across his senses again with renewed power. His hands gripped her, holding her as she trembled against him.

"Fuck, Granger. Did you just come?"

He expected her to startle, to bolt - but surprisingly she nodded, body starting to roll, hips making the tiniest thrusts back against him. He groaned at the feel of her pussy sliding along his head.

"Malfoy."

He grunted, pushing forward into her, slipping in another half an inch.

Fuck she was tight. And hot. And wet. So fucking wet.

"Malfoy, are we awake?"

Her voice was sultry and quiet, as though she knew that loud noises and harsh words could break whatever spell they were currently under. The scalloped edge of her shorts was brushing against his thigh where it joined with his hip, and he had to physically restrain himself from thrusting fully into her at the honey of her voice against his neck. He huffed a laugh.

"Barely."

"Are you - " She threw the blankets off of them, head tucking to look at where he was penetrating her, but unable to do anything but feel it with her shorts still on, blocking their view. "Fuck - are you inside me?"

"Partly, yes."

Her hips rolled again, heat sliding along him as she groaned.

"Partly? That's not - That's not all of it?"

"Not even close, Granger."

"How did - why did - "

He huffed another laugh and murmured in her ear, hips starting a languorous pace of shallow thrusts against her.

"Would you believe me if I said I woke up like this?"

"I don't - I - fuck - I was dreaming - "

His hand at her breast cupped her fully, massaging her soft flesh and flicking a finger across her nipple. He dipped his nose into her neck and darted his tongue out to taste the skin beneath her ear.

"About me?"

Draco felt her stiffen, her ire rising, and they snapped back and forth even as they connected again and again.

"No, you sod, but I was dreaming about this - "

"About us -"

"About sex!"

His other hand moved now too, working from the outside of the fabric to caress across her abdomen and dip beneath the waistband of her shorts.

"You were having a sex dream while unwillingly sharing a bed with me? I don't know whether to be flattered or appalled."

Another gasp of irritation escaped as her hackles raised further, body a bizarre juxtaposition of strained and pliant in his arms.

"Dreams are not intentional, Malfoy. They are occur unconsciously -"

"Ok, so you were unconsciously dreaming about having sex with me."

"No - I was - fuck - I was dreaming about having sex with someone."

Granger pitched back against him again, her smaller hand gripping at the wrist of his arm across her chest as if to hold herself in place. Movements slow, unhurried and unfocused, they both moaned as she slid across him again and again, his head bursting in and out of her wet heat.

"Who?"

"I don't know, it was a dream! Ah - there wasn't actually a face, more a semblance of a person."

"Ah."

"Yes."

"That still doesn't explain the current situation."

"Well, how would you explain your hands?"

A quick twist of her nipple had her groaning again, and the hand at her waist moved lower until his middle finger pressed directly against her clit, starting slow circles against her. Jolting at the contact, her legs spreading further apart, he slid in another half-inch.

"That's - ah fuck - easy. I'm a cuddler."

"A cuddler."

"Yes."

She glared back at him, but pulled the gusset of cotton up and away from her cunt to allow his length to slide more smoothly, providing him a perfect view of where he was penetrating her, toying with her.

"Cuddling does not normally - fuck, Merlin - include foreplay."

"You've been doing the wrong kind of cuddling."

"No, I've -ah - I've been doing normal cuddling. You've apparently been doing reprobate, randy cuddling."

"Fuck, so wet -"

He nipped his teeth into the side of her throat, her ear lobe, the juncture of her neck and shoulder - anywhere he could find purchase as she steadily increased the pace of their thrusts without increasing the depth. She was panting and writhing against him, bucking her hips into the fingers against her bud, and he hardened further - swelling at the sight of her wanton state.

"Are you calling me a cad, Granger?"

She keened as he sped his hand.

"Your fingers are literally on my clit, Malfoy, and your cock is inside me. What - ah fuck - would you say?"

"I would say I'm - Merlin, ah - curious how my cock got under your knickers."

Curiously, she blushed; an attractive rosy flush crossing her cheekbones to flood down her neck as she continued to rock on him. He sucked at her pulse point, relishing the tiny moans escaping her with his baiting.

"I don't - ah - I don't wear knickers."

The sounds reached him, but shock prevented full understanding of the syllables as actual words. Draco's head popped up, eyes wide and incredulous as he stared at her stupefied.

"You got into bed with me - fuck, ah - without knickers?"

"I'm wearing bottoms."

"Without knickers."

"I'm wearing sleep shorts, Malfoy. Fuck - It - ah - it shouldn't have mattered!"

Squeezing his palms against her he sped up the circles on her clit again, increasing the pressure just slightly, watching avidly as her mouth parted and breath panted into the room.

"Did you mount me in your sleep, Granger?"

"Fuck - Did you grope me in yours?"

Another grind between them, another half an inch, another chorus of moans escaping.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes -"

Draco stilled immediately, hands moving off her nipple and clit to grip her shoulders and push himself back and out of her, but her fingers tightened around his wrist, her other arm slinging back to grip his neck and hold him to her. He grunted, confusion lacing his arousal as he held himself frozen behind her, growling in her ear.

"That is what some would call a mixed signal, Granger."

"You didn't let me finish."

"From what I could tell you already finished. Before we started this conversation even."

A keening cry of irritation burst out of her and she wriggled against him, her own frustration leeching out into her words.

"Malfoy, you git. Shut up and let me talk."

"Fine. Finish."

She forced her arse back against him roughly, yanking at her shorts until they were pulled up and to the side, fabric bunching between her arse cheeks to leave her cunt open and bare for him. Tilting her hips, she pushed until his head was just nudging back into her.

"Oh fuck - this is so wrong - because I really can't fucking stand you - " She paused, panting as the head of his cock slipped fully inside of her. "But I don't want you to stop fucking me." She turned her head, mouth connecting with the shell of his ear and she bit down hard, before laving the marks with her tongue. "I want you to stop fucking teasing me."

He crumpled, hips jolting against her at the sensation and voice pure gravel when he spoke.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes met his, wide and sure, brown irises reduced to slivers around black pupils the size of moons.

"Yes."

Placing one hand on her shoulder, his other gripped her thigh, fingers denting into the flesh as he yanked her back against him. In a single swift motion he impaled her on his cock, burying his full length into her wet cunt.

"Whatever you say,  Granger."

Her fingers at his neck dug in, sliding up to grip at his hair to brace herself as he began pounding into her hard and deep. He was relentless, fucking in and out of her quickly and roughly, using his hands to brace her against him as he rammed her. The cloth of her shorts rubbed against his length with every pull, sliding across his abs with every push, bunching further and further up her arse as he heaved and moaned and grumbled obscenities into her hair.

"Oh fuck, Merlin, Granger. So - fucking - wet."

He'd thought he'd been in ecstasy when he'd barely been seated in her. But now, with her slick heat gripping and pulling at every inch of him and his balls slapping against her thighs with every plunge, he was pretty certain he would either embarrass himself by coming in thirty seconds - or pass out from the sensations before he even made it to release.

Fuck.

He was thick, and hard, the angle of his thrusts allowing him to penetrate to her deepest points as her arse cheeks spread across him with each thrust.

He hadn't been joking when he'd said she'd barely taken any of him. His full length was impaling her, molding her around his cock, shifting her fundamentally - and Hermione felt like she was about to explode.

"Fuck, Granger." His voice sounded like gravel pure rasp as he panted against her. "You feel insane. You're so tight - ah - so wet. How long did you rub your little pussy against me in your sleep to get this wet, hmm? Fuck - how long did you grind on me to get me this hard?"

He shifted his arms, one large hand cupping under her knee to open her even further, and she cried out at the pressure building in her core. With a grunt, her head sunk back against him, pressing into his shoulder as he fucked her. Both her hands locked at the back of his head, fingers raking into his hair, searching desperately for purchase as he bobbed her against him with each steady drive. His other hand slid to her neck, locking about her throat and holding her in place for his pounding.

"Don't stop - Malfoy, that's feels so - Circe -"

Hermione moaned, grunted, cried out in absolute pleasure as he hammered her hard, relishing in his loud, rough pants and moans against her hair, neck, ear as they mixed with the lewd, wet sounds of their coupling. She was climbing, spiraling, fluttering around him as she raced toward another climax.

"You're so tight, Granger - so fucking tight. I can feel you squeezing my cock. Merlin - Fuck, are you close?"

She keened and thrashed against him, a tight whimper slipping between her lips as another pulse of pleasure pricked up her spine.

"So close. So - fuck - I need - ah -"

She loosed a hand from his neck, working it to press against her clit but Malfoy knocked it away, the hand still at her shoulder shifting beneath them so that he could place his own long fingers against her again. She gripped at his wrist, directing his movements, and with three firm circles she broke - spasming and clenching around him as she pulsed through her orgasm.

Malfoy didn't stop - didn't slow - just kept fucking her through her release and only relenting in his pace when she tightened to the point of nearly forcing him out.

"Holy. Mother. Of. Merlin. Fuck, Granger - that feels - fuck you're so tight. Fuck."

Hermione panted, moaning, nearly blacking out with the power of her orgasm. Coming down she tapped weakly at his wrist, urging him to slow until she could slide off of him. She rolled to plant herself face down in the pillows and his laugh was low and sharp as he watched her collapse, limbs jelly and body shaking in jolts from the combination of force and pleasure. The smirk on his face was dangerous as he stared at her.

"Gonna survive, Granger?"

"I need a - just give me second."

She arched her back, rolling her neck slowly and reveling in the small cracks that echoed up her spine. Flopping her head to the side to face Malfoy, she sniggered as she realized they were both still mostly clothed - him in his pants and her in her oversized shorts and tank. She'd just climaxed harder than, well, ever. And she hadn't even been naked.

Malfoy was still hard and swollen, one leg of his pants bunched into his hip and held there by his erection protruding through the leg hole. The grey fabric was darkened at his crotch, wet from where she'd been pressed against him, and her mouth salivated slightly watching his cock bob up against his abs as he fisted himself at the base.

"Malfoy - that was -"

"Fuck. I know."

"Fuck."

She pushed up onto her elbows, kicking the blankets the rest of the way down the bed, and sat on her knees before him, lustfully eyeing his length.

"You didn't finish."

He glanced down to where he was fisting his base and his cock bobbed again, glistening, coated with her release. He dragged his palm up and down his length in a slow glide, breathless.

"No, I can just -"

She stopped him before he could finish his sentence, clasping a hand around him and giving her own quick tug. He gasped and she pounced, knocking him onto his back and slotting between his legs in a single continuous motion until she was seated before him with her tongue peeking out from between her lips.

"Fuck that."

Granger was on him with a speed he wasn't aware she possessed, lithe fingers grasping at the waistband of his shorts to pull them down and off, until he was lying naked beneath her. She pushed backward between his thighs, her body folding in half as she rested back on her knees to hover her mouth above him. Tongue swiping out she tasted him once, pulling back with a vicious smile splitting her face. Another slide of her palm squeezed along his length, before she pushed her curls over her shoulder and descended on him, sucking the tip of his cock into her mouth and humming a moan as she could laved her tongue across the glans.

"Fuck, Granger - fuck -"

His grunts and cries were feral as she sucked him deeper, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue slipping out to slide along his base with each pull. He'd been on the edge when she clenched around him, and now he was barrelling right back to the precipice, the fall coming closer and closer with every hot pulse of her mouth around him. His fingers threaded into her curls, guiding her on him without forcing, voice like sandpaper when he found the wits to speak.

"Your mouth is so fucking good, Granger. Merlin. If you don't stop I'm going to cum down your throat."

She released his head with a loud, wet pop, glancing up at him through her lashes.

"While I'm not against that as a rule, I'm not done with you yet."

He watched, stunned as she sat up from him, those same slender fingers that had made quick work of his own shorts hastily divesting her of her own. Cunt bare to his view he groaned at the sight of her folds, swollen and wet and so fucking pretty, but before he could react she climbed him, throwing a leg to either side of his hips to brace his head against her entrance, and planted her hands against his chest to slowly skewer her cunt onto him.

She dropped, panting, chest pressing warm against him through her thin top, and mewled against his throat when she was fully seated.

Fuck.

Rolling against him she started to move, shifting her hips slowly so that he slid out of her just enough to make him grunt each time she dropped back flush. Her arse was splayed across his hips, and he reached out to grab a cheek in each hand, kneading his fingers into the softness and pulling her against him forcefully as she rode him faster and faster.

He'd never thought about Granger as anything but a menace. But now, buried in her cunt, curtained by her curls, her lips pressing tiny, mewling kisses to his throat as they moaned together in pleasure, he wasn't certain how he'd never at least entertained the idea. She was lithe and lean, body a contradiction of soft curves and firm muscle. He reveled in the feel of her soft hair tickling his skin, her heavy breasts flattened against him.

With another squeeze of her cheeks, Draco pulled one hand away and smacked at her arse, shuddering as she keened at the impact and clenched tighter around his cock. He propped himself up on his elbows beneath her and straightened his arms, pushing up until he was sitting with her seated in his lap. His fingers found the hem of her tank and yanked the cotton up and over her head, watching rapt as her curls fell back down in a waterfall of chocolate waves.

Merlin, she was attractive - breasts pert and full, hair spilling down her back, her head tipped back and mouth parted as she rode him savagely. With a growl he darted forward, closing his lips around a nipple to tug at it with his teeth and curse as her walls contracted once more, tightening her grip around him even further.

"Fuck - are you - again?"

"Malfoy, I - oh, Circe - I - oh, oh gods - oh fuck - so deep - ah - fuck -"

She babbled and howled, baring down on him and grinding her hips as he thrust up into her. One of his arms braced against the mattress behind him, improving the angle and power of his thrust as the other bracketed her waist, holding her to him as she built back to the edge. He shifted to the other breast, dabbing his tongue across her nipple and biting at the soft underside as he watched her through lowered lids.

"I can feel you gripping me, Granger. Fuck - you're even getting tighter. Fuck, Merlin fuck - are you going to come again? Tell me you're going to come again. Tell me you're going to come for me."

"Malfoy - Malfoy I -"

She seized, eyes rolling back, squeezing his length as she rode him faster, rubbing her clit against his pelvis with every grind - and despite his own impending release he was devastated with the need to bring her to climax again. He dropped both arms behind him and supported himself on his elbows, thighs clenching together to give her a more solid base for her thrusts.

"Come for me, Granger. Come for me. Fuck - I want to feel it. Come for -"

He never finished the sentence, her body shattering around him with her release and he groaned as she tightened nearly to the point of pain, trapping his length inside her as she spasmed.

He waited until she loosened slightly, coming down faintly from the high, and with a quick roll he flipped them and pinned her to the mattress beneath him. One hand fisted into her hair as the other gripped her thigh, forcing her knee back to her chest and then down against the sheets to open her as wide as possible for his entry.

She keened beneath him, sensitive and sated as he seated himself fully and ravaged her, thrusts moving from fast and powerful to shaky and erratic as he quickly reached his limit. Sweat beaded on his brow and his voice strained as he spoke.

"Are you on the potion, Granger?"

She panted beneath him as he fucked her unsteadily.

"What - fuck - yes."

"Can I - fuck, Granger - can I come inside you?"

His voice was rasping and earnest against her ear, and he broke immediately with her own whispered reply.

"Oh fuck, Malfoy - yes. Fucking fill me."

Draco groaned and snarled against her neck, a single additional thrust piercing into her before he was shuddering and shaking and pouring into her with hot, thick spurts. She moaned beneath him, her cunt gripping him as he pulsed, and he collapsed atop her when he'd finally emptied.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the erratic pants of their breaths. They lay intertwined, Malfoy a welcome, heavy weight against her in the post-orgasmic haze. Mind clearing slowly, she became gradually more aware of his weight, of him limbs pressing down on her, of the stretch of her thigh where he still had her leg bent and pinned beneath him. She tapped her palm weakly at his shoulder.

"Malfoy."

It took him a few seconds to reply, and Hermione tried unsuccessfully to quell the smugness rising in her at his incoherence.

"Yeah?"

"Move. You're heavy and you're squashing me. I can't breathe."

"Right, yeah."

He lifted from her, and she hissed as she felt his softening length slide from between her, followed by a wet spill of their combined releases coating her thighs and wetting the sheets under her arse. Malfoy collapsed beside her, an arm thrown across his chest and the other tossed above his head against the pillows as he continued struggling to control his own breath.

Another period of quiet lengthened between them, and Hermione drank it in, stretching languidly before shifting back onto her stomach with arms folded under her head beneath the pillow, and angled her face to look at him.

Malfoy lay beside her unspeaking, brow furrowed, staring at the ceiling intently as though there were runes etched across its surface he was trying to decipher. She watched as a myriad of expressions flitted across his face - shifting too quickly to catch. As the stillness stretched on his inner monologue abraded and irritated her, and Hermione finally spoke through their fog.

"Stop it."

He startled and shot her a sharp glance.

"Stop what?"

"You're being weird."

"The situation is weird, Granger."

"True."

There was a pause and they sat in it, observing each other, mutual glances raking across skin, muscles, planes, and curves that neither should right have ever been privy to.

"That was - "

He paused, and Hermione groaned, pressing the heel of one hand into her eyes before raking back into her hair, wincing when her fingers caught in the various tangles.

"Absolutely a bad idea."

He grunted a laugh at her resolution, slanting his eyes down her body a final time before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

"Well, yeah." Malfoy took a deep breath, chest expanding with the effort, and then exhaled sharply with a frustrated curse. "But also stupidly good."

Hermione couldn't help it. She smiled, letting her eyelids fall and basking in the leisurely wake of multiple orgasms and sore muscles.

"Yes, it was."

"Really, fucking good."

"Uh huh."

"I mean. Annoyingly, irritatingly good."

A laugh broke free, drawn eyes crinkling in mirth before she popped them open again to find his gaze already back on her, setting little sparks alight each place it landed on her body. Her lips quirked before responding.

"I could sleep for a week good. It's seriously irritating."

He lifted his eyes, meeting her gaze, another heavy exhale pushed from his chest as his face screwed up in annoyance.

"Really, Granger. Your cunt is fucking perfect. Rather vexing to think about."

"So don't think about it."

"Come on, you're not the least bit put out?"

Malfoy bit at his lower lip, his normally eminently irksome face softening just slightly at the edges.

"I just came three times, Malfoy. I want to be vexed but I can't muster the energy at the moment."

Another quirk of his lips, and his head slanted back to the ceiling once again. In the haze of her stupor, Hermione felt a brief moment of second at his obvious unease and continued speaking.

"Your cock is maddeningly perfect too, by the way." His fingers were trailing absently up and down his chest and she tried not to stare at their path along his muscles, along his scars. "If I'd known you were hiding that under those overpriced suits, I might have at least fantasized about you sooner."

His laugh was full this time, and he turned on his side to face her fully, dragging a finger down the line of her nose, to her shoulder, to her hip, before dropping his hand to the bed between them. She smirked at him before burying her face back into the pillows.

"I still loathe you, Malfoy."

"The feeling is mutual, Granger." He huffed, head nestling back into his own pillow as he shut his eyes. "What time is it?"

With a groan she lifted her head to glance at the clock, and then groaned again at the lateness of the hour.

"Ugh. Just past four. I'm going back to bed."

Hermione stretched, feet kicking into the covers and shifting them up until she could grab them with her fingers. She settled them across her waist, unembarrassed by her nudity as she slowly succumbed to the pull of sleep once again, Malfoy's breaths steady and even next to her.

She was just slipping under, slumber clouding her brain in a pleasant fog, when she felt the drag of a tongue down her spine.

Granger was prone beneath him, breasts pressed into the mattress, arms nestled beneath the pillow where she rested her head. He could just let her sleep, should just let her sleep - but she was naked and he was horny, and despite his continued annoyance with her, his body very much enjoyed her body - he could feel his cock twitching and hardening again just from observing her nude form. He pressed his mouth to her spine, dragging his tongue down the length of her bare back as he fisted the covers and pulled them down to rest across her thighs. Her voice was sleepy as she questioned him.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

He hummed into her skin, nose grazing against her flesh and slotted himself between her thighs, his hand pushing at one knee so the leg bent and pressed upwards, opening her to him once again. His voice was teasing when he answered.

"Nothing."

Inhaling her scent, his teeth nipped into the tender skin of her inner thigh and with a soft grunt she pushed back, spreading her legs wider to give him more room. He pressed a finger between her folds, barely dipping in, and she hissed.

"Doesn't feel like nothing."

"Shh, Granger. You can go back to sleep if you like."

His finger pressed into her, and he was lost again in the heat, wetness, tightness of her. He laid his head across one arse cheek, nose tipped into the cleft of her arse, and basked in the view of her supple cheeks and wet pussy taking his finger greedily and coating the digit in her. A second finger joined the first and he sank his teeth into her arse cheek as she pushed back against him with a pant.

"I'm definitely awake."

"Good, that's good." He turned his hand, a third finger sliding into her cunt to join the first two as his thumb swiped against her clit. She bucked against him. "We can sleep when we're back in London, Granger. Right now, I want to eat." And then he darted his tongue out, probing against the rim of her arsehole. She crumbled, grinding against his fingers, riding him as he ate her arse and finger fucked her pussy. Tiny little grunts and groans rolled out of her and he had to brace himself against her hips when her spine bent and her arse pushed into the air. Draco sat back on his knees - head nestled at her tailbone, nose tucked between her cheeks - and spit at her arsehole, using the thumb of his unoccupied hand to spread his saliva around her back entrance before only just dipping the digit inside.

"Do you think you can come again, Granger?"

"I - I don't know - maybe - oh fuck, that feels good."

She cried out as he pulled his fingers from her, wet hands bracing on her hips to bring her flush against him, bending over her back to toy her ear lobe between his teeth.

"Can I fuck you again, Granger?"

Her arse sliding along his length, she nodded, responding breathily.

"We've already fucked up and fucked. May as well go for round two."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

He pressed a hand to her upper back and planted her chest to the mattress, gripping her opposite hip in the vice of his hand as he sank to the hilt in one thrust. With a quick mewl, she thrust back against him, arse bouncing against his length, and he met her thrust for thrust. The pressure was building even more quickly this time, his body eager for the rapture of release within her.

In only moments she quivered around him, and he barked a grunt above her. The hand at her shoulder blades lifted to fist in her hair, twisting the curls in his fingers until he could yank her up against him and press her back flush against his chest before arching their bodies slightly forward.

"Hold onto the headboard, Granger. This is going to be rough."

"Fuck -" Her pussy rippled along his length again and he nearly lost it. "OK."

Her hands darted out, knuckles sharp where she gripped the wood, and he pounded her determinedly - unflagging in either tempo or intensity. She was writhing against him; panting, moaning, and he gripped at her arse, spreading her cheeks and rolling the globes between his hands before smacking firmly against the flesh. The quick jolt was followed with a longer keen, and she dropped one arm from the headboard to rub at her clit with her fingers.

"Malfoy - fuck - I'm close."

"Are you going to come for me, Granger?"

He lengthened his thrusts, driving into her firm and deep on each stroke, one hand moving from the welt on her arse cheek to press against her puckered hole.

"Oh fuck - yes - I'm - fuck, I'm gonna -"

Massaging her arsehole, the digit dipped in and out once, twice, three times - and then she was collapsing to the bed, seizing around him, falling into an orgasm that was smaller and less powerful but no less gratifying to watch and feel. Clawing fingers into her hips, he railed her a dozen more times before spilling into her again with a cry, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as his orgasm wrecked him.

Finished, glutted, and exhausted, Draco slid his length slowly out of her cunt and fell to the bed. Surprisingly, rather than collapse away from him Granger lowered her body next to his - head snuggling into the crook of his shoulder with an arm and a leg slung across his body in a semblance of a caress.

He ran a hand along her back, sighing, fully sated.

"Fuck, Granger. We're doing that again."

"Fine." His hand cupped her arse and she swatted at him. "But tomorrow. I need sleep, you prat."

He hummed contentedly, face turned into her so he could nuzzle her hair. Draco had just settled, succumbing to sleep when she bolted up from his chest, nearly knocking his chin in her haste.

"Malfoy!"

"What the fuck, Granger, what?"

Her eyes were wide and panicked as she stared at him - unmoving, unblinking. Two words escaped her.

"The peacock!"

He stared at he dumbly.

"The - what?"

"The peacock, the bloody peacock!"

Granger turned slowly over her shoulder, muscles tense and eyes bright with trepidation. He followed her gaze to where the obnoxious toy sat staring at them from its perch on the small desk. She gulped. He cackled.

"You don't think Harry has it recording at night, do you?"

He pushed the hair out of her face when she turned back, tucking a single curl behind her ear before tugging her once again into his embrace.

"Nah. That would be ridiculous."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, seconds away from sleep and calmed by Malfoy's assurance that they probably hadn't just fucked twice in front of a surveillance toy that her best friend had access to, when his chest rumbled beneath her again.

"But it would serve him bloody right.

-----

The Next Day

Harry was surprisingly chipper as he strode into the DMLE the next morning. It was Saturday, it was a short shift, and there would only be a few people to deal with in the office. But the best part was that Hermione and Malfoy were miles away destroying someone else's calm for once, instead of his. That was enough to put a smile on anyone's face.

He loved his best friend, but Hermione was a menace when it came to Malfoy. And Malfoy was even worse in regards to her. The amount of paperwork he'd had to deal with on a weekly basis because those two couldn't leave well enough alone was enough to keep the parchment makers in business for years.

Sitting, Harry retrieved the viewing orb connected to the surveillance camera he'd repurposed for their trip and set it on the desk in front of him. He'd do a quick review of the previous day's footage, reassure himself that they hadn't un-alived each other or burnt down the hotel (or worse), and then move on with his day.

The footage for the welcome reception had just finished, orb going fuzzy when there was a knock at his door and Blaise Zabini popped his head in.

"What did you need, Blaise?"

"Potter, the prosecutors are saying we don't have enough to take this to trial." A folder was tossed onto Harry's desk absently. "I'm hoping you have the transcripts from interrogation so we can -"

His deep voice stopped suddenly, eyebrows racing to his hairline as a loud feminine moan suddenly filled the room. It was quickly followed by several rough grunts and pants.

Blaise grinned wickedly, walking to stand beside Harry behind the desk.

"Potter, you rascal. Are you watching porn in your office?"

Harry was staring at the orb, face white, a slight sheen of sweat across his brow. Blaise leaned closer to the images, just as a low male voice spoke through the chorus of moans.

"Fuck. Granger."

The dark-skinned man stopped. Blinked. Blinked again.

"Are you - Fuck - are you inside me?"

"Partly, yes."

"Is that?"

He turned to Harry, shocked and surprised, to see the other man desperately messing with the orb's controls, trying to make the replay end.

"Oh no...oh no oh no oh no, dear Merlin, no...make it stop."

Harry panicked, mashing all the buttons at once. He only succeeding in fast forwarding the footage by several minutes, and when it resumed playing the voices were decidedly louder in intensity.

"Fuck, Granger. You feel insane. You're so tight - ah - so wet. How long did you rub your little pussy against me in your sleep to get this wet, hmm? Fuck - how long did you rub to get me this hard?"

"Don't stop - Malfoy, that's feels so - Circe -"

"You're so tight, Granger. So fucking tight. I can feel you squeezing me. Fuck, are you close?"

"So close. So - fuck - I need - ah -"

The sound of Hermione's orgasm echoed through the room and Harry finally clicked the right button, cutting Malfoy's response off mid-word as the recording went dead.

The two occupants of the office turned to each other, gazes meeting. Harry looked pained. Blaise looked delighted.

"I can't believe I had to see that. I'll never be able to un-see that."

"Well, shite. That was incredible."

"Blaise, wash my brain out with soap. Obliviate me. Something. Please."

"I can't believe he landed Granger. The lucky bastard. There's got to be a great story there."

"I don't care about the story - I can't live with these images in my head. With those sounds in my head."

Blaise straightened, patting Harry on the back before striding back to the door.

"Must go, Potter. Something's come up. Let me know about those transcripts will you?"

He waved over his shoulder and left the office, door swinging shut behind him. Harry slammed his head to the desk, unfortunately remaining conscious.