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Hermione sighed, her mind wandering during Arithmancy class.
At this late point in their final school year, most eighth-year students were either interning at the Ministry or St. Mungo’s in addition to wrapping up their studies. Many had graduated early, eager to start their lives in the real world.
She was among the few still attending Arithmancy, knowing its significance to her hopeful (or perhaps inevitable, depending on who you asked) career in the Department of Mysteries. Her internship would begin in the fall, and while she looked forward to it, she also had certain misgivings about leaving Hogwarts behind.
Glancing down at the quill she had discovered on the desk in her room that morning, she couldn’t help but admire it. It had arrived in an ornate gift box with no accompanying note. It was beautiful, with a silver filigree shaft and a white feather plume that shimmered faintly in shades of silver, blue, and green when it caught the light.
As lovely as it was, she couldn’t resist packing it in her bag to use in her classes. With her usual distraction absent that day, it provided something else pretty for her to look at.
She assumed that the quill was a gift from Headmistress McGonagall, thanking her for her tendency to take on more than she could handle as Head Girl and otherwise.
Sighing again, Hermione tried to refocus on the board.
Dipping her quill into the ink pot, she began to copy the equations.
After writing only a few lines, the quill suddenly stopped cooperating altogether. Her brow furrowing in confusion, she tried again to write the sentence from the board, but her eyes widened at the unexpected words on the parchment.
Did you make yourself come last night? I did.
She jumped in her seat, startled, looking around for any accidental witnesses, but all the other students were still staring at Professor Vector.
Giving the quill a little shake, she tried again. This time, it worked fine. However, her eyes kept being drawn to the unintentional line she had written earlier, without conscious thought.
Was she going crazy?
In History of Magic, it was much the same. Half asleep, listening to Professor Binns drone on and on, Hermione sat listlessly in the classroom, her chin resting in her hand. Her mind drifted to the odd incident that had occurred earlier, but she shook her head. If she didn’t still have the proof of it, she would think she had imagined it. Such was the case when bored out of one’s mind.
Just as she began to write notes, Hermione felt another odd sensation through the quill in her hand. It was as if it had a mind of its own, especially as she watched herself write out words she hadn’t intended to.
You make me so fucking hard. I can’t stop thinking about sliding my cock in between your perfect tits and making you all sticky.
Hermione jumped, immediately alert looking around to make sure nobody else had seen.
Again, it happened once, and then the quill worked as normal, allowing her to complete her notes for History of Magic, albeit feeling a bit keyed up and distracted.
What in Merlin’s name was happening?
At lunch, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table surrounded by Neville, Ginny, and Parvati.
Harry, Ron, and a select few other Auror hopefuls were spending this week and the next shadowing the Head Auror at the DMLE. Since it was Friday, they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts that afternoon for the weekend before heading back for one final week.
She sat idly, listening to the din of conversation, feeling distracted and bored. Absentmindedly, she picked up her quill to begin a doodle.
All of a sudden, she felt the same stiff sensation she had felt before. She looked down to see, in slightly too large, elaborate script:
I want to fuck you so badly right now.
Exhaling in irritation, Hermione chose to ignore the quill’s blatant sexual harassment, and attempted once more to doodle her name.
The blasted thing did it again.
I just want to feel you cream all over my cock. It’s already drooling just thinking about you.
About two seconds away from pulling out her hair, Hermione attempted a Finite Incantatem, already knowing deep down it wouldn’t work. She then scribbled back in a sloppy, frustrated script:
Prove it!
The quill almost seemed to laugh at her, even as she both felt and watched it scrawl across the parchment.
Before I fuck you, I’m going to lick your sweet little pussy until you scream.
Hermione huffed and shoved the quill and parchment in her bag as quickly as she could, feeling several sets of curious eyes on her.
She rushed out the door, marching with purpose toward the owlery where she fired off a note:
“Enough is enough. Meet me at eight tonight in the Head Girl’s room or else. -HJG”
Looking around, she spotted the large and majestic eagle owl she had been hoping to find. Its face had a pompous air that reminded her an awful lot of its master.
“Take this to him for me right away, please? And tell him to hurry the fuck up.”
The owl clicked softly, somehow conveying both understanding and disapproval as she offered him a treat.
“Thank you, Orion,” Hermione said softly, giving his regal head a gentle pat. “You’re a very good owl.”
With a snooty hoot, Orion gracefully took flight.
***
The quill didn’t stop its shenanigans.
All afternoon, no matter what she did, it kept acting up. She tried to use a different quill, but that one just stopped working entirely, refusing to re-ink itself.
In Advanced Potions class, while Hermione attempted to copy down the ingredients for Draught of Peace, the quill struck yet again, ironically shooting her blood pressure through the roof:
I’ll make it so good for you, baby. I’ll sink my cock into you over and over again while you moan my name.
It hastily added:
My first name.
Hermione grit her teeth, considering casting an Incendio, but decided against it.
While attempting to decipher inscriptions in Ancient Runes:
What if I push my cock between those pretty, pink lips and come all over your tongue? You’d take it all, wouldn’t you?
And whilst suffering through Trelawney’s nonsensical drivel in Divination:
Gonna let me fill that tight little pussy with my cum?
Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull.
So crass and inappropriate.
Never mind if it made her thighs clench, and other certain parts of her body tingle.
This time, the quill kept going, mimicking Trelawney’s automatic writing style almost mockingly, as if it knew exactly which class Hermione was currently sitting in, and how she felt about it.
I know you will. You want to know why?
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, gripping the quill as tightly as she could, while it wrote of its own accord:
Because you’re such a fucking slut for me, Granger.
And with that, the stupid, enchanted quill snapped clean in half in her hands, its words forever silenced.
It would’ve merely taken a simple Reparo to get it working again, but she opted against it.
It was too fucking distracting. Not to mention infuriating.
***
Dinner was a quiet affair that she rushed through as quickly as possible, eager to bring an end to a very long week and even longer day. Ginny had gone off to meet Harry, who had returned to the castle, and Ron was off with Daphne, most likely tucked away for the weekend.
Hermione sat with Cormac McLaggen, who had become less of a lech after unexpectedly taking up with Gregory Goyle. Greg wasn’t so bad either, and he and Cormac were actually quite sweet with one another.
Most of the Slytherins were surprisingly tolerable, except for Malfoy, who currently topped her list of grievances despite his absence.
Blaise and Theo sat huddled together at the Slytherin table, another loved-up couple that made her heart pang a little, especially when she recalled the frustrating events of her day.
Hermione growled as she gripped a demi-baguette and tore off a hunk of bread with her teeth, noticing the curious and startled looks from Cormac and Greg.
Quickly composing herself, Hermione gave them a tight smile, grateful when they finally turned back to each other.
She waggled her fingers at Blaise and Theo when she noticed them watching her curiously. Deciding she’d had enough of people for the day, she stood, gathering her things and stalked towards the door.
“Alright, Granger?” Theo called out, his voice carrying a hint of knowing amusement, while Blaise threw her a wink. Maybe it was just her imagination, but they always seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing her business.
She stared them down and gave them a two finger salute.
***
Entering the Head Girl’s room, Hermione immediately sensed she wasn’t alone.
Keeping her back to the figure in the chair, but the hilt of her wand in the palm of her hand, Hermione calmly set down her bag and hung up her sweater, ignoring the goosebumps running down her body.
“Granger,” he drawled in the annoying way he did, lounging in her chair with his feet up on her desk. His lanky frame was obnoxiously relaxed. “You wanted to see me?”
Hermione spun around to face her demon, feeling a flush of anger on her cheeks. “This—harassment has got to stop. Now.”
“Harrassment? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” the intruder responded, an annoying smirk covering his face as he stood, towering over her as usual.
On top of everything else, did he have to be so… tall?
“I know it was you who left the quill,” she sniffed, “I recognized your handwriting sending me those…things.”
He stood, sauntering toward her—the git really sauntered.
Her heart rate spiked as he caged her in against the wall, leaning down toward her. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, and glared at him. Right into those conceited, molten silver eyes with the stupidly long eyelashes.
He lifted a stupidly perfect, silver blond eyebrow. “Well, I would hope so. Nobody else should be sending you messages of that nature.”
“But wait,” he said, “I’m afraid you’ll be to be more specific.”
“Talking about your…and my…ugh Malfoy. It’s literally sexual harassment. The epitome of it, even. Someone could have seen. Where do you get off—“
She was effectively silenced when he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, and his hand across her throat.
Her breathing was ridiculously fast and loud, and she concentrated on inhaling deeply through her nose, which inadvertently made everything worse when she smelled his familiar scent, the citrus, pine and parchment—a combination that could bring her to her knees and make her brain hazy with lust.
“To answer your question, Granger. I’ll get off anywhere I please, preferably inside you.”
Draco pulled back, smirking at her gasp of outrage. “But tell me this — are these messages really considered harassment when they’re sent by your ever affectionate boyfriend?”
He tutted her chin, tracing his index finger along her jawline. His hot, silver gaze locked onto hers, his tongue running along his lower lip as he watched her, making her nipples tingle, and setting off a slow pulsing rhythm in her clit that quickened up with every beat of her heart.
She was clenching around nothing. He was the absolute worst.
“Especially when you and I have said—and done—much filthier things to each other in person,” he remarked pompously.
Gods, he was right.
He’d made her a harlot.
“Remember when you let me watch you finger your sweet little pussy?”
She may have recalled one or more incidents of this nature.
“Or when you came untouched watching me fuck my fist and then begged me to come all over your pretty tits?”
Okay, fine. Yes. Also, possibly more than once.
“Malfoy—“
“Or when you rode my cock and came so hard you almost cried?”
Was he really going there?
“I was on my period. It was all the…” Hermione waved her hand around. “Hormones.”
“Mmm, you were moaning alright,” he grinned wolfishly, and she stuck her nose up in the air at him, never mind the fact that her knickers were ruined.
Why wasn’t he doing anything? The prat just stood there, running his mouth, like he’d been doing all day via charmed—more like cursed—quill.
He was so frustrating. What kind of insane witch would want this self-assured, pompous windbag for a boyfriend? Even if he was quite good-looking. And tall. And had quite a large…wand that he was rather skilled with using on her, that happened to feel so good inside her, stretching her perfectly.
She’d trained him well, teaching him over the last several months what she liked, what felt good, and he’d been an eager student as they learned together how to pleasure each other. Malfoy had definitely achieved an Outstanding mark at making her come—on his cock, his fingers, his tongue, his thigh, his…
“And let us not forget the many times I’ve had you on your hands and knees, begging me to fill that needy little—“
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she cut him off, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair and give those silky strands a none-too-gentle tug. “Enough,” she snapped. “You keep talking, but you still haven’t done a damn thing about it.”
“I knew you missed me, Granger,” Malfoy smirked triumphantly, finally leaning in to capture her lips, pleased that he’d finally almost gotten her to break.
His kiss was fierce, needy, like a man dying of thirst. He released a soft moan from deep in his throat as Hermione nipped his bottom lip and threw her arms around his shoulders, inwardly sighing with relief.
He’d been gone all week with Harry at the new Auror orientation, and though she was happy to see him chasing his dreams, she’d missed him terribly. What would she do when school ended in a month, and they returned to their respective homes? She’d more or less resigned herself to the fact that what they had would be ending soon, though the thought made her stomach roil.
“That’s beside the point,” she sniffed haughtily.
“Is it?”
Hermione huffed. “Are you going to follow through or not?”
His gaze held a predatory gleam. “Don’t I always?”
When she shrugged noncommittally, she was lying through her teeth because, gods, yes, he always followed through—he knew precisely what to say to leave her flustered, how to wind her up, and how to bring her to the edge of pleasure. He knew how to make her cry out in relief when he made her come effortlessly—whether by a stroke of his thumb on her clit while he was inside her, a certain flick of his tongue when his face was buried between her legs, or ordering her to finger herself while she sucked his cock. But she couldn’t admit that to him.
She had to play at least a little hard to get. If she didn’t know his tells— the darkening of his eyes, the slight droop of his lids, the pale pink on his cheeks, or the the tent in his trousers—that throbbing bulge her hands were dying to circle and stroke until it spurted into her hand—she’d have almost thought he was unaffected by her. But she did know.
He was going to fuck her.
It was the reason he’d sent her the quill that day, with the purpose of making her desperate for him. And it had worked. Her knickers were uncomfortably wet, and her bed had been so cold all week. It was unfair and she might have resented him for it if she didn’t know how desperate he became for her, when he was close.
She knew exactly how to tease him, flicking her tongue along his frenulum to make him leak and beg for more. She could make him come just by sitting on his cock without even moving. Just a few well timed clenches were enough to elicit quiet, desperate moans and warm spurts of cum inside her, all while trying not to draw attention to themselves. They’d been in the library after all and they’d already gotten a few odd looks for the fact that she was sitting on his lap.
Here in the head girl’s room after a week’s separation, Malfoy didn’t even take the time to fully undress her or himself. Kissing her hard, he pushed her down onto the bed, flipping her skirt up and pulling her knickers down. He crawled over her while she clung to him like a desperate hussy, whimpering into his mouth while he answered her in deep groans.
Malfoy tore himself away from her lips. When Hermione heard the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, she almost came right then and there. Pushing up onto her elbows, she watched him open his fly, his cock springing out into his hand.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and they were silent except for their breathing as she watched him start to stroke himself, his cock flushed, leaking, and ready for her. Then he pushed forward, kneeling between her spread legs, and pressed his swollen head against her slick entrance, teasing her.
“Mmm, so fucking wet for me,” Malfoy hummed. If Hermione weren’t currently a puddle in her own bed, she might have liquefied at the feel of him against her, and the desperate sounds he made as he discovered just how wet she was when he began to inch inside.
Hermione’s head whipped back and forth on her pillow as she began to beg. He was absolutely right; she was a fucking slut for him.
“Please, Malfoy, just do it already,” she whined.
With one swift thrust, he buried himself deep inside her. Staring down at her, he stayed motionless, brows furrowed in concentration, mouth slightly open as the muscles of her cunt fluttered around his thick length.
“Granger,” Malfoy rasped, releasing a deep breath that sounded like a mix of desperation and relief. Perhaps both.
“Gods, Malfoy, you have no idea how frustrated I’ve been all week, and then today with that stupid quill, and you were nowhere to be found, and I—hngh…”
He began to move, quick, hard snaps of his hips, the ridges of his cock rubbing and scraping against every sensitive nerve. She forgot what she’d even meant to say. Malfoy’s cock had rendered her stupid, growing more so by the second.
“I hate it when you’re gone,” she whined without meaning to, making him smile a little as he watched her face. Hermione couldn’t believe the needy little creature he’d turned her into. She’d spent the whole week so grumpy, she’d had friends practically running away from her. All because she didn’t have her daily dose of Draco Malfoy’s cock. And he fucking knew it.
He had done this to her. Made her like him, trust him, want him, need him, crave him, and lo—
Whoa. No, she wasn’t ready to go there in her head yet. Just because it was true didn’t mean she needed to acknowledge it right at this moment. Not when she was about three seconds from coming, the burning pleasure building with each thrust, every nerve in her body electrified. But somehow her brain overrode her cunt, and she began to overthink.
True, he happened to be her boyfriend. They had agreed on that fact almost six months ago after an argument about rumors involving Hermione and Ron (which were ludicrous—despite public opinion, they had never dated and had only kissed once).
Malfoy had stopped speaking to her for three days, and then she’d refused to speak to him for another three, until both sought each other out by the lake, prodded by Blaise and Theo.
True, they had slept together every night for months. Yes she dreamt of him every night and missed him whether he was there or not, even when she was asleep.
But he was just a boy.
He probably couldn’t wait to move on from here, and who could blame him? He would go off to Auror training and find a new witch, one without their troubled past, perhaps a pureblood. He claimed not to care about blood status, but what else could he say? His parents almost certainly still cared. The most likely scenario was that he was just biding his time until graduation.
“Granger,” he murmured, bringing her back with a gasp from a particularly hard thrust, and then slowing his movements. Taking her hands in his, he pinned them over the top of her head, his face very close to hers. “Come back to me.”
She stared up at him, suddenly overcome with emotions.
He stilled, looking back down at her with concern in his eyes, as he throbbed inside her, her cunt gripping him tightly.
“I’d understand if you wanted to break things off now that we’re so close to graduation,” she babbled. “You’ve done so much work on yourself this year. I-I just don’t want you to have anything to regret for once.”
She expected him to laugh, to dismiss her as too needy, to call their relationship a mere fling meant to amuse him while he suffered through an eighth year of school. She thought he’d roll off her to go finish himself off, leaving her behind.
Instead, he kept staring down at her. “You know I’m still inside you, right?” His brow furrowed in confusion and hurt. “Are you breaking up with me while I’m fucking you?”
She clenched around him, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck to keep him close. “No, of course not,” she breathed. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.
“Granger… I fucking missed you this week,” he said, exhaling a shaky laugh. “Except for this week, we’ve slept in the same bed every single night since Halloween.”
Hermione vividly recalled that night and the series of events leading up to it.
Malfoy had apologized to her on the train back to Hogwarts, expressing gratitude for her testimony in his favor and that of his parents. She had accepted his apology coolly, and then they had proceeded to spend the first month of school bickering.
By mid-October, they were snogging in alcoves during the interhouse parties that Blaise, Theo, Pansy, Ginny, and Neville, loved so much. Harry had dragged her along initially, saying if he had to go then so did she. Somehow she always seemed to end up in close proximity to Malfoy, bantering back and forth, almost forgetting anyone else was even there. Soon, Hermione began to look forward to them.
By the end of October, Malfoy was fucking her in her bed, making her come so hard, her eyes watered.
Now, his own eyes looked a bit moist.
“And,” he added, sounding exasperated or a touch panicked, “I don’t know about you, but a week without you was fucking brutal for me.”
She continued to watch his face, her brain slow on the uptake, as she absorbed his words.
“So forgive me if I’m feeling a bit needy right now,” he continued, his voice clipped and vulnerable.
Hermione’s lip trembled at the devastation on his face. “I just thought maybe you’d see something at the Ministry you liked better…”
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She’d just wanted—
Licking his lips, he shook his head slowly, speaking in a quiet, earnest tone. “I know where you’re going with all this, but please don’t. It’s all bullshit. I only want you.”
Hermione felt her entire body relax as Malfoy chuckled softly. “The only thing that caught my eye was that quill I found at Weasley’s shop when Potter dragged me there last weekend. It wasn’t designed to be quite as dirty,” his voice dipped a bit at the word, a product of his pureblood upbringing still apparent, “but I spent all my free time this week charming it just so and then I had an elf pop over and leave it on your desk this morning.”
Rolling his eyes at her forced glower, he added, “They were thrilled to help.”
She retaliated by digging her heels into his arse. “Are you going to finish fucking me or not?”
Really though, she was floating. Hermione hadn’t known she could feel so relieved until he had completely eased her mind—an impressive accomplishment, especially considering he hadn’t even made her come yet.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, with a gleam in his eye, “I’m going to make you come now, just like the quill promised.” His cock, which had only slightly softened during their emotional conversation, was now fully stiff again. He withdrew slowly and then pushed back in, groaning softly as he felt her begin to flutter almost immediately. She had been so close before—it wouldn’t take much now.
Malfoy kissed her, a warm, wet, filthy kiss, and after just four firm thrusts, she came, wailing into his mouth, and he followed her shortly after, making good on his promise to fill her full of him, groaning her name and other indecipherable words into her neck.
***
They spent most of the weekend naked in bed, surfacing only for sustenance, and showering together in the Head Girl’s private bathroom.
Draco repaired the quill (she had kept the broken pieces intending to mend it herself, but he beat her to it). They passed it back and forth, and he showed her the matching quill he held, which was the master of the two. No matter what she tried to write with it, it would mimic Draco’s writing. Then he charmed both quills to work together, giving each the ability to control the other.
They took turns writing down the filthiest things they could think of, edging each other like this, neither allowed to touch themselves or each other, until he finally threw both quills across the room and rolled on to his back. She climbed his body immediately kissing and licking up his length from sac to tip, and then he pulled her up his body. “Please, I need to be inside you, Granger.”
She loved making him needy too.
He sat up as she scooted up his body, and resting her hands on his shoulders, she teased his tip with her warm wetness, swirling her hips but not yet taking him inside. Although she was dying to sink down on him, she kept going until he began whispering, “Please, Granger. Please,” into her ear like a desperate chant.
Her head fell back as she sank him inside her, and his mouth moved from her neck to her breasts, pressing them together in his hands, kissing and nibbling them, and sucking each nipple in turn.
His lips searched for hers, and she twined her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as she rode him, only pulling away to gasp for air as she came, loudly. Pulling her hips tightly against his, he growled his own orgasm, pulsing for what felt like an impossibly long time, before finally relaxing and falling back, taking her with him.
After they’d caught their breath, holding each other close, with Hermione sprawled across Malfoy’s chest, he said, “There’s one promise I haven’t made good on just yet.”
“What’s that?”
Rolling them over gently, he made his way down her body, kissing between her breasts, her belly button, and each hip bone before he pushed her thighs up and open, leaving him face to face with her cunt which was currently oozing cum, both his and hers. She raised up on her elbows, her brows furrowing in curiosity as she watched him.
He smirked up at her. “I said I was going to lick you until you scream.” Eyes still on hers, he lowered his face and pressed a kiss to her oversensitive bud. Had he somehow forgotten she was positively covered in his seed?
“No no no, Draco, you don’t—“
She fell back in surrender when he licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, no doubt lapping up his own release and groaning into her cunt.
“Merlin,” Hermione gasped, “Oh, Draco that’s so—oh—“
She was so sensitive after just coming, and of course this silver tongued man would lick his own cum out of her. He’d always been very precious about having to see how she looked with him dripping out of her, and then he would either push it back in with his fingers or his cock. But this time, he rolled his tongue, slipping it inside her, whether he was pushing it back in or licking it out she couldn’t tell.
She threaded her hand in his hair, rocking her hips up against his mouth as he swirled his tongue through her folds, relentless in his mission to make good on his scrawled promise from the charmed quill. Hot waves of pleasure surged through her, her entire body tightening up and trembling as it prepared to shatter.
“Oh gods, Draco, I’m going to—“
He chuckled softly and suckled her clit into his mouth, humming at the same time he slid his index and middle fingers inside, effectively fucking her while also pushing what was left of his cum back inside. Her eyes rolled back and she gushed, convulsing on his face and hand, coming so hard she saw spots behind her eyelids and then…nothing.
***
When she came to, he was hovering over her, with a bemused yet concerned look on his face.
“Are you still with me, love?” Draco asked, and she pinched his arm at the smug expression on his face.
“You’re such a show off,” she mumbled, rolling on to her side.
He laughed lightly, kissing her shoulder, and snuggling in close.
“Look who’s talking,” he murmured. “Everytime I shag you, I somehow manage to come harder than I ever have in my life.”
“I did miss you, you know,” Hermione said, taking his hand and pulling his arm around her middle. She hadn’t yet told him that, and he deserved to know. “So much. I—I’m worried about what happens after school. When things get real and with your parents and our jobs and…”
She trailed off, playing with his fingers and trying not to cry.
Draco was silent for a moment.
“I’ll miss you next week when I’m back at the Auror’s office. But we have the enchanted quills,” she felt him smile into her neck.
“And then,” he went on, “we’ll only have a few weeks of school left.” He hesitated. “I’ve already told my parents about us, quite a while ago actually—“
Hermione twisted around to face him, her eyes wide. “I’m—I’m shocked you told them. They must be furious.”
“They’ve made peace with it,” he shrugged. “I’ve changed, they’ve changed.” He brushed a curl out of her eyes. “I’ve told them I’ll be getting a place after graduation. At least for a while. Either…with you, or…at least somewhere you’ll be comfortable spending time.”
Hermione’s heart panged. Draco was making space for her, not only in his life, but a literal space—a home, where they could be together after school. She didn’t know if she was ready to move in with him, but she already knew she’d be spending at least six out of seven nights there per week.
She loved him, and so she kissed him.
“You’re the one who wants to keep us a secret,” Draco breathed against her lips. “I’d fuck you in the middle of the Great Hall if you’d let me.”
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm, a pleased smirk playing on her lips. “Prove it.”
***
In Arithmancy on Monday morning, Hermione sat with her chin in her hand, daydreaming but not exactly bored this time. Draco was spending another week in the Ministry with Harry and the other Auror hopefuls. He was likely sitting in a lecture at that moment, probably bored listening to Robards drone on. The man could really blather.
She picked up the quill and began to write.
I wish your cock was in my mouth right now. I’d show it such a good time.
She smiled to herself, waiting to see if he’d respond.
He wasted no time.
I wish I was there with you so I could finger you under the table while you take notes for both of us.
Hermione’s clit throbbed and she crossed her legs to provide some relief.
After a few moments of taking actual notes, even though her mind was a million kilometres away, she paused for a minute and then came to a decision.
I want to tell everyone when you get back.
Draco didn’t wait to respond.
Everyone already knows, Granger. We’re a terribly kept secret. But if it would make you feel better, I’ll ravish you on the Gryffindor breakfast table.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Although, she could sit in his lap and…
I love you, she wrote.
Without hesitation, his response came.
I love you too.
Then he added, Prove it.
She would. And she did.