Work Text:
She opens the door half a second after the person on the other side stopped knocking.
She knows she shouldn’t have called him. Not him, of all people, but if she’s being honest, he’s the only person she wants to talk to, the only person she can fathom asking to drop everything and comfort her over Ron .
Funny how different times are now compared to how they used to be.
She opens the door, finds his smirk and the pale blond strands in disarray like he’d spent the day running his hands through his hair. He showed up in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, Merlin help her. His Dark Mark on display and causing somersaults in her belly—and not in a bad way.
Not anymore.
She steps aside and lets him in silently, closing the door behind him with a telling click.
She couldn’t call Ginny or Harry, not wanting to further cement either of them into the middle of her drama with her boyf—well, I guess ex -boyfriend, now.
Ron hated that she was friends with Draco. He was always jealous of him, deep down. Always threatened by him.
In reality, it had nothing to do with him. Ron didn’t trust Hermione and masked it as his own insecurities. The truth is Ron was projecting. Overcompensating for his own infidelity.
A part of Hermione blames herself. She was distant with Ron, always working. She wasn’t ready to get married, didn’t want kids just yet. She put their relationship on the back burner and part of her doesn’t blame him for seeking attention elsewhere.
Part of her.
“You could’ve at least sprung for a better hotel.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “This is a four-star hotel, Malfoy.” And truthfully, she didn’t know where else to go.
A few years ago, she and Ron staycationed in this hotel for a long weekend over their anniversary. She couldn’t take a full week off of work and this was the compromise to feel like a bit of a holiday. When she ran out of her and Ron’s home, it was the first place she could think of.
“Does it even have room service?” She can tell he’s fighting a smile, using his poncy attitude to cheer her up.
Admittedly, it’s working.
“Planning on working up an appetite?” she asks with a raised brow, until the words register.
Her mouth falls open in shock that she’d actually said that. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She digs her hands into her hair and pinches her eyes closed on a groan.
“What happened?”
She sighs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, staring down at her hands and picks at her thumbnail until he sits down beside her. His hand covers hers, stopping her in her tracks.
“We broke up.” It should mean something that saying the words out loud feels like a weight lifted off her shoulders. “Officially this time.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezes the hand he’s still holding.
Hermione shakes her head. “You don’t need to lie to me, Draco. I know how you feel about him.”
His brows crinkle. “This has nothing to do with him. What I’m sorry about is that you’re hurting, that this person who’s been a huge part of your life for nearly fifteen years is just gone now, and I know you still care about him.”
“He cheated on me.”
Draco freezes. She can practically feel the tension in the room shift. “What?”
Hermione nods, an emotionless laugh slipping out of her. “I found a pair of lacy blue knickers in the pocket of his trousers. Unfortunately, they didn’t belong to me.”
His jaw tightens, anger radiating off of him in waves. “Bloody fucking idiot.” He shakes his head. “You’re right, Granger. I do hate the guy. He’s a goddamn worthless git because he threw away the best thing he ever had.” He stares into her eyes as if trying to drill the words into her skull.
“Thank you.” She looks away, feeling like his gaze is going to swallow her whole. “Is it—no. I shouldn’t say that.” She bites her lip.
“You can tell me anything, you know that.”
She looks up at him from under her lashes. “Is it bad if I say I’m a little relieved? That I’m…I don’t feel as awful as I thought I would?” She scoffs. “He was my best friend for seven years and my boyfriend for seven more. I should feel…something, shouldn’t I?”
Draco shrugs. “I don’t think it’s bad. I think it’s honest.” Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches up to cup the side of her face. She leans into it. “You’re allowed to feel however you feel.”
Her heart beats rapidly in her chest. “What if…what I feel…is wrong?”
He chuckles, the sound affecting her. “I don’t think you have it in you to do anything truly wrong.” He brushes his thumb along her cheek, his eyes sliding over her face and landing on her lips.
Hermione nods slowly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Draco.”
“Haven’t we all in the grand scheme of things?”
“I’ve lied. Stolen. Mildly kidnapped an adult woman. Set a teacher on fire.”
“You haven’t cheated.”
She meets his gaze. Her lips part. “I haven’t cheated.”
The air between them is taut, the tension palpable. Draco leans in, slow enough to give her plenty of time to stop him.
She doesn’t.
His lips meet hers. It’s tentative as he tests the waters, but it’s not sweet. This is no conciliatory kiss. This isn’t meant to make her feel better about her break up. This isn’t even meant to distract her.
Instead, it lights her on fire. Her hands come up to grasp at his shirt as her lips part. Draco deepens the kiss, his tongue begging for entry as it slips between them, teasing at the seam of her lips.
She opens her mouth to him and tastes him for the first time. She moans low in her throat as mint and whisky invade her senses, make her mindless.
She’s panting when Draco pulls away. Hermione nearly falls forward, searching for him, not wanting to break the kiss.
Her eyes flutter open and meet his gaze, the silver now engulfed by his lust-blown pupils.
“You still haven’t cheated,” he whispers between them.
Hasn’t she, though? Her relationship with Ron may be over, but she and Draco didn’t just get to this point tonight. Physically, yes, but the tension between them? Her desire to call him of all people, to invite him to her hotel room at eight o’clock at night? The hours upon hours they spent at work together, the work trips they’d gone on, the events they went to as co-workers…
That led them here.
Physically, she never cheated.
Emotionally? She’s not so sure.
Draco’s gaze searches hers. He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. I wanted to. I…I want to.” Her hand slides up from his chest and around the back of his neck until her fingers tangle into his hair. “I want to,” she says again, nodding, encouraging.
No matter what happens now, at least two things are true:
She and Ron are broken up.
She wants to be here with Draco.
Nothing is going to change either of those points.
This time she leans in, her nerves ricocheting in her veins as the fear of rejection takes root. She pauses as she’s a millimetre from his lips. She can taste his breath ghosting over her and she can’t help herself; she can’t take it anymore.
She closes the gap.
Draco responds instantly.
He groans into her, vibrations spilling from his chest so much so that Hermione can feel his desire in the tips of her toes.
She shifts up onto her knees, never breaking the kiss.
Draco’s hands find her waist, fingers slipping under her top to dig into the soft flesh at her hips. He pushes backwards gently until Hermione uses a hand to catch herself and lower onto her back. Her knees bend, legs forming a V, and Draco finds a home between her parted thighs.
He follows her down until she’s flat on her back and he’s hovering over her, supporting himself on one arm.
“Is this okay?”
She nods eagerly. “Yes,” she tells him, her voice a breathy whisper. She grasps at the back of his head once more, pulling him down until their mouths connect again.
There’s a hunger, a craving that was tempered before they were lying down. Now everything feels heightened. Hermione is hyper aware of his fingers skating along her sides, the way he hesitates before pushing lower or higher.
The way she doesn’t want him to hesitate.
The way she wants him to take .
She digs her nails into his shoulders, tugging him down until he’s flush against her. She wants to feel every inch of his body along hers.
She lets her hands trail down his back, feeling the muscles ripple as she grazes over them. Draco kisses her fervently. It’s a bruising desperation, a climbing hunger spreading between them.
Hermione arches into him, pressing her breasts against his chest, wishing it were skin on skin. She grabs hold of his t-shirt, shucking it upwards until her hands skate along his bare back. She pushes the shirt higher until they break the kiss and Draco uses one hand to tug the shirt off his head in a move that Hermione is certain made her knickers dampen instantly.
He tosses the shirt onto the floor and Hermione barely has a moment to appreciate the taut muscles before his lips are on her again. Draco kisses down her neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive flesh.
His hand returns to its new home under her shirt, pushing the boundaries. His thumb eases under her bra, dragging temptingly, teasingly across the soft skin of her breast.
Hermione shudders, aching to feel his hands on the rest of her skin, on every single inch of her.
Draco removes his hand and Hermione wants to whimper already at the loss. His hands move over her stomach until they take hold of the hem of her shirt and push it upwards.
Hermione sits up to help, quickly freeing herself of the tee and discarding it on the ground beside his.
He, however, takes the moment to look at her, to study her, to draw constellations onto her skin with his eyes alone until Hermione starts to feel self-conscious. Her fingers twitch, her mind telling her to cover herself.
She doesn’t get the chance. She’s flat on her back before she can even consider it, Draco’s lips pressed to the space between her breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste her.
She gasps as his hands come up to cup her, sliding over the fabric of her bra and tugging the cups down, freeing her.
He groans and she can’t overthink it when his lips pull one taut nipple between them. She lets out a moan, her hand coming up to grip his hair. Holding him there. Never wanting him to stop.
“Draco.” His name is a prayer on her lips.
He kisses across her chest, paying her other breast equal attention as one hand slides down to snap open the button of her jeans with one thumb. His fingers toy with the lace top of her knickers, trailing tantalisingly along the fabric, the pads of his fingers barely slipping underneath.
“Please,” she whimpers, the word barely a breath.
Hermione lifts her hips and helps him remove her jeans, sliding them over her legs and tossing them onto the floor. Draco stares at her, his eyes trained on her still-covered cunt. She watches him shift, notices the way, ever so slightly, his gaze turns feral. Predatory. Hungry. Desperate.
All for her.
She keens at his look alone and his eyes snap up to hers. A crooked smirk breaks free on his lips and she doesn’t think it should look as sinfully sexy as it does.
With his eyes on hers, she sits up, reaching around to unsnap her bra and baring herself fully. Hermione tosses her bra to the floor as Draco stares at her, tongue poking out to wet his lips.
His hands are confident as they drag up the outside of her thighs until they hook under the waistband of her light blue knickers. Without even having to ask, she lifts her hips and he tugs the fabric free.
Her drenched knickers are an afterthought as Draco tosses them aside. She should feel embarrassed at the way he’s staring at her, like he wants to ravish her. Instead, she’s growing more and more fervid herself, her clit throbbing, pulse thrumming in her cunt as it begs for his attention.
“Fuck,” he mutters. Draco leans down, lips trailing along the inside of her leg. “I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he murmurs into her skin, pressing kisses up her inner thigh and simultaneously searing the words, his desperation into her mind, body, and soul.
She lifts her hips, begging for him silently, beckoning him closer.
He growls into her, his nose all but pressed into her cunt.
“Draco,” she tries again.
He doesn’t move, except his eyes snap up to meet hers. The silver is drowning by his pupils as he stares from his perch between her thighs.
Then she jolts.
Wet heat laps at her, sliding over her lower lips slowly. A long, thick stripe from her entrance to her clit. He groans, the sound burrowing into her bones.
Her head falls back, eyes fluttering closed as a moan slips from her lips. “Oh, god,” she whimpers, her hands clutching at the sheets.
He licks her again like she’s a dessert he wants to savour. It’s maddening.
She opens her mouth to beg when Draco suctions his lips around her clit and sucks.
She cries out, her back arching off the bed.
His tongue flicks at her rapidly, swirling over the bud, alternating between fast and slow, licks and sucks. He’s infuriatingly good at eating pussy.
“Oh, gods. Yes. Just like that. Please. Oh god oh god oh god.” She shifts her hips, pressing herself into him. Her hand works nearly on its own volition as she reaches down and grabs onto his silky blond hair, holding him to her and not letting him go.
She comes just like that and his tongue dips down, lapping up every drop of her release, tasting what he’s done to her.
Hermione’s panting as she comes down. She pushes back her curls off of her forehead, her chest heaving from the intensity of her release.
She should feel sated. Relaxed.
She doesn’t understand why she feels empty. She still feels like she’s climbing toward the peak, ever-yearning for more, and craving him more than ever. His tongue wasn’t enough, she realises. No. She needs to feel him pounding into her, needs to feel herself stretch to accommodate his size, needs his cock to fill her up and empty inside of her.
No, disturbingly not sated. She’s irrationally horny and the sight of him lifting himself up between her thighs, his lips glistening with her all over them, it has her nearly cresting once more.
“I need you,” she tells him. Whines, really.
He grins at her. It’s cocky and inexplicably hot. “I’m only getting started, baby.”
Draco kicks off his trousers and his cock springs free and Hermione actually whimpers at the sight of him. Long and thick, his head red and angry, dripping precum for her. She wants to lean down, tease him with her tongue, suck him dry until he’s spilling down her throat.
She bites her lip as Draco settles back in between her thighs. Her legs are spread, cunt dripping and bared for him.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks.
She nods.
“Words, Hermione. I need to hear you say it.” He rubs a hand over her inner thigh, an act that’s definitely not helping her concentration.
“Yes, Draco, please. I want this. I need you.” Her eyes flutter open and she finds his wicked grin looking back at her.
He lines them up, the head of his cock notching at her entrance. She wiggles her hips, pushing the tip inside ever so slightly.
He chuckles, a low, aphrodisiac of a rumble in his chest. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His words drape over her skin delicately. “You haven’t been properly fucked in some time, have you?”
“No,” she breathes out, her head shaking from side to side. “Please.” She’s mindless with need, reduced to monosyllables and begging.
“Please what, Hermione?”
She whines. “Please, fuck me.”
As he looks down at her with his answering smirk, she decides in that moment she’ll say whatever he wants as long as he keeps looking at her like that.
He pushes the tip of his cock inside of her, his hands continuing their mind-numbing trail back and forth along her inner thighs. He doesn’t move, just sits there.
“Draco,” she’s whining.
He starts giving her shallow, infuriating thrusts. “Fuck, you feel good.”
She huffs. “I’d feel better if you were all the way inside me,” she snaps between gritted teeth.
Draco licks his lips, fighting a smile at her blunt desire, surely. He’s deliberate in the way he slowly, oh so fucking slowly, pushes inch by inch inside of her. It’s torturous and when he’s finally seated to the root, he stills.
His head falls back onto his shoulders, mouth falling open with bliss. “Fuck.”
Smug, Hermione pants out, “I told you.”
His head snaps up, gaze burning into her. He quirks a cocky brow. “You’re really going to say I told you so right now?” He pulls out and slams back in.
Hermione’s back arches, a half-moan, half-scream falling from her lips.
He stills his hips once more. “Well?” He pulls back, drawing out slowly, punishing Hermione with every hard ridge of his cock as it stretches her. “Nothing to say?”
She shakes her head wildly, curls thrashing around her.
Draco thrusts hard back into her, burrowing into her cunt. His eyes fall closed and Hermione can’t help but stare at the rapture on his face.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, bruising her. He’s so bloody handsome. And he’s mine.
She gasps, hardly knowing where the thought came from, but it feels right all the same. They were embers simmering, burning and building beside one another for months, waiting for the inferno to finally be set ablaze.
Draco’s been hers for months now. Even before they touched. And she knows, deep down, she’s been his.
Hermione reaches for him, hands coming up to his sides and pulls him down to her. She needs to kiss him, needs to taste him and feel him and breathe him in.
He complies and his lips crash to hers. He moans into her mouth as he picks up speed, hips snapping harshly into hers. They exchange moans, her fingers clawing at his back, his burrowing into her hair like they can’t get close enough to one another.
His other hand trails down to her leg, lifting her knee to drape around his back. He’s hitting deeper, fucking her harder, and she cries out, breaking the kiss.
“Fuck, Hermione. You’re taking me so well.” He pounds into her, his groin rubbing against her brilliantly. “Your pussy was made for me.” He looks into her eyes, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb dragging over her bottom lip. “You were made for me. I’m not letting you go.”
Her mouth parts, a moan floating out between thanks to his cock, his lips, his words; all of it.
Draco sits back up and looks down at her, his eyes flooding with awe as he stares unabashed at her naked body. His hand trails down her neck to her breast, he tweaks one of her nipples, hard enough to elicit a gasp from her before freeing her quickly. He continues his descent until his thumb perfectly finds her clit.
He rubs slow, agonising circles on her swollen bud, dragging out her torture, her pleasure—both.
“Tell me you’re mine, Hermione.”
Her eyes snap to his, the stormy grey feral. His thumb picks up speed, making her senseless in her climb. Draco looks as crazed and desperate as she feels, gaze searing into her soul. He knows her, inside and out.
She nods, but knows he’ll make her say it anyway. “Yours, Draco,” she breathes out. “I’m yours.”
He adds the perfect pressure to her clit, forcing a deep moan from her chest. Her back arches, fists gathering the sheets.
“Oh, god. Yes, yes, yes, yes.” She’s panting and he’s pounding into her and she shifts her hips just so and she crests before shattering on a scream, her orgasm pulled from her. It’s impassioned and emotional and a tear slips down her cheek at the intensity of it all.
He fucks her through the orgasm and when she comes down he’s there, his lips capturing hers in a rough, passionate, debilitating, life-altering kind of kiss. It’s full of teeth and tongue and he ravishes her and she still fucking needs him.
Hermione clings to him, arms surrounding his shoulders as she holds him close. Her hands find his hair, the silky strands slipping through her fingers softly.
As the intensity of the moment passes they slow down, Draco’s thrusts almost becoming lazy. Hermione pushes at him lightly, looking him in the eye. She offers a coy and sated grin before pecking him on the lips and pushing at his shoulder until he rolls over.
Skilfully, they stay connected as Draco lies on his back, Hermione perched on top of him, his cock still firmly buried in her cunt. She wants to take control and see him lose it. She wants to bring him pleasure, make him moan out her name, make him spill his own secrets and promises between these sweat-sodden sheets.
She braces her hands on his chest and lifts her hips slowly, testing what he likes. She lifts up until only the tip is inside of her before, equally as slowly, she sits back down, sheathing him entirely.
Draco’s hands slide over her legs, up to her breasts, and back until they land and find a home on her hips. “Fuck, Hermione,” he rasps, the words dipped in lust.
She repeats the motion, over and over, riding him slowly. His fingers dig into her waist, his eyes never leaving her body.
“You’re perfect,” he tells her in a whisper she’s not quite sure he meant to even admit.
She grins at him, picking up speed until she herself is gasping again. Draco starts driving into her from the bottom, slamming his hips up and making her see stars behind her eyelids. Their bodies slam together, a cacophony of sin and need filling the room.
Hermione leans forward as Draco fucks her, her breasts pushing into his chest. His hands cup her arse, squeezing her, rubbing her, spreading her; like he can’t sit still, can’t stop touching her.
Her lips find his neck and it’s lazy and messy and her moans spill into his ear, singing his praises.
“Can you come like this?” he asks her breathily. “I need you to come, Hermione. I’m—fuck, I need you.” He trips over his words as they’re forced out.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Harder,” she tells him.
He grabs onto her arse like it’s the leverage he needs before he starts really fucking her. His hands on her cheeks offering a hint of pain, a promise of bruises she’ll cherish. Her clit is pressed against his groin, every thrust of him brushing her bud perfectly.
“Right there,” she tells him. “Yes, fuck, please, just like that.” She cries out, her voice vibrating with the severity of his thrusts. “Oh god oh god oh god.” Another orgasm overtakes her. She squeezes his cock and feels his hips stutter as she grows tighter and wetter all for him.
“Jesus Christ, Hermione.” His hands are punishing on her arse and his groan into her ear has goosebumps cluttering her skin as she clings to him. His cock twitches inside her as he releases, filling her as her cunt refuses to let him go.
She’s not even holding up her weight anymore, her breaths coming out in heavy, sated pants. Her arms feel weak as she lifts herself up to look at him.
Draco’s cheeks are rosy, his brows furrowed.
“Are you okay?” Hermione whispers against his mouth.
His eyes open slowly as if fighting exhaustion and a lazy smirk tugs up one side of his mouth. “What do you think?” he asks.
She giggles, her cunt clenching around his softening cock and Draco groans.
“Fuck.” His hands squeeze her arse cheeks once more.
Delicately, Hermione shifts off of him, both of them moaning at the loss. She collapses onto the bed beside him clumsily, her hair falling into her face.
Draco reaches over, brushing her curls out of her face.
She grins. “Hi,” she says, almost shyly.
He laughs. “Granger? What are you doing here?”
She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm lightly. “Shut up.”
She feels happy. Light and she’s giggling for Merlin’s sake.
“You’re a mess,” Draco says with a grin.
“Because you made me that way.”
He wiggles his brows and leans in to kiss her. “And I’d like to do it again,” he kisses her cheek, “and again,” her other cheek, “and again,” one final peck to her lips.
“Hmm,” she hums. “Perhaps we should get clean before we get dirty again.”
“Are you propositioning me, Granger?”
“So, what if I am?”
“I like it,” he tells her, giving her a languid, heated kiss. “I’ll start the shower.”
“I’ll order room service,” she grins. “Yes, in fact, they do have room service.”
“Minx.” He stands and Hermione isn’t ashamed of the way she stares at his perfectly fit arse as he heads for the bathroom.
The shower turns on and she calls for food and champagne quickly before joining him. The bathroom is already steamy and when she opens the glass shower door she feels ready to go again.
Draco’s under the spray, eyes closed, hands pushing back his wet hair as water cascades down his impressive, naked body. Her mouth feels dry, eyes wide as she stares at him.
“Like what you see?”
“I do, in fact.”
His eyes are heated as he takes her in, her rosy nipples peaked both from the chilled air and his attention on her breasts.
The shower takes far longer than it should with their hands exploring one another, the excuse of soaping each other leading to fervent touches and a hard fuck against the shower wall.
She finishes washing herself quickly after Draco warns her if she keeps touching him they’ll never leave and she scurries from the shower, leaving him to finish alone.
She quick-dries her hair and puts on one of the robes in the bathroom before heading out to the room with perfect timing as a knock sounds on the door.
She tightens the knot on her robe and hastily flips the covers back over on the bed before opening the door.
“Oh,” she breathes out, eyes going wide. “I, uh, I thought you were room service.” She surreptitiously glances over her shoulder. “How did you know where I was?”
Ron’s on the other side of the door, eyes red and tired. He looks like shit. “A lucky guess.” He offers her a lopsided grin, like they’re sharing the same inside joke.
She doesn’t return the expression. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t stand the way we left things. Hermione…I…” he shakes his head. “I feel terrible. About all of it. How we left things…I’m—I’m not proud of what I did. You never deserved that and I—I’m sorry. About all of it.”
Hermione’s frozen, mouth parted in shock. She blinks rapidly, eyes scanning his. “Yeah. I’m sorry you did that too.” Her voice is monotone. She can’t believe he’s here.
Ron looks down at the floor. “It’s over, isn’t it? For real this time.”
Hermione nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“It’s all my fault. I know that. I know—”
Hermione doesn’t hear anything else he says. The room service cart shows up with two plates, a chilled bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.
“Room service?”
She forces a grin at the lady and nods as she takes the cart. Ron notices, takes inventory of everything she’d ordered. His brows furrow.
Behind her, the shower turns off and the bathroom door opens.
Ron looks past her as she shifts her body, turning around slowly, taking in the scene like a car crash.
Draco comes out of the bathroom still wrapping the towel around his waist as steam spills out behind him. His pale, fit, and very naked body telling Ron everything he didn’t want to know.
Ron looks between Draco and Hermione.
Draco smirks. He bloody, freaking smirks. “Oh. This is awkward,” he says, despite not looking or sounding awkward in the slightest.
Ron scoffs, shaking his head. “Of fucking course.” He glares at Hermione. “I always knew it was him.” He snatches the champagne off the cart and storms down the hallway.
A fleeting thought to stop him crosses her mind, but why should she? It’s over.
She’s more sad that he stole the champagne.
Draco moves hesitantly toward Hermione, his arm coming around her waist. “Are you okay?”
She nods, leaning back into his embrace. “It’s over.” She shrugs. “It’s really over.” She thinks it has already been over for a while anyway.
He buries into the junction of her shoulder, pressing a kiss on the side of her neck. “That’s good.” She feels him grin against her skin. “I told you. I’m not letting you go.”
Hermione shuts the door and spins in Draco’s arms to face him. He tugs her slowly back toward the bed.
He sits down and she stands between his thighs. “Did you mean it?” he asks. “When you said you were mine?”
She cups Draco’s face, her thumb brushing his cheek. “I did,” she tells him honestly. “I’m yours, Draco.” She kisses him and they fall back into the mattress, forgetting about the food and brief blip of drama as they surrender to one another once more.