Chapter Text
“Let’s play a game.”
Hermione looked across the table at Malfoy, unsure who he was talking to. When she found his eyes on hers, she had to consciously stop herself from checking behind for someone else. Especially since she knew the only thing behind her were bookshelves.
“Are you talking to me?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Who else would it be? It’s Friday night and we’re in the library. We’re alone in here.”
The thought didn’t exactly comfort her, although she could safely and truthfully admit she wasn’t scared of Draco sodding Malfoy. She never had been.
“We’re supposed to be working on our joint project, which is what I’ve been doing. What have you been doing over there?”
She was vaguely annoyed at the possibility that she’d have to do the whole thing herself. She was rather used to that reality, of course, but she’d hoped (perhaps naïvely) that he’d pull his own weight. He’d always been clever, close behind her in the rankings all the way up to that disastrous Sixth year. She should have argued more when Professor Flitwick put them together…
He pushed his parchment toward her. “I finished five minutes ago. I’m bored.”
She gasped an affronted sound at the boldfaced lie but grabbed his work anyway to disprove it. And then, annoyingly, found that she couldn’t.
He had finished his half.
And it didn’t look like he’d only done the bare minimum, either. She shoved the pages back to him without comment and bent back over her own parchment. Perhaps she could have finished already too, except there was still so much to detail…she huffed. Surely she’d been thorough enough by now.
“Fine. One round.”
He smirked. “I expect you’ll want to go more than one round with me.”
She ignored the innuendo and stared blankly at him until he sighed and leaned back.
“I’m going to give you two choices and you have to tell me which one you’d pick. It’ll be a little get-to-know-you game.”
“Why would you want to get to know me?” she deadpanned. “You’ve never tried to before.”
He snorted. “Stubborn as ever. Come on, Granger.”
She grit her teeth and then laid down her quill. “Alright. Give me my choices.”
“Right. It’s called This or That, by the way. I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly.”
She glowered at him. “It’s called Would You Rather and it’s a Muggle game, you prat.”
He made a one-arm gesture of acceptance. “Fine, Granger. Would you rather…” He assessed her then smirked. “Have someone use their hands to give you a back massage or an orgasm?”
She got the sense he expected her to blush at the word. She stared at him, frustration mounting that he was being so juvenile and making their project take longer than it needed to.
“Can’t decide?” he quipped when she was still staring at him.
“Back massage,” she snapped. “I can’t do that myself.”
He chuckled. “Can’t do either of them yourself, but perhaps you’re too pure to know that. Pity not in the way that matters.”
Now she looked up. “What?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not going to call you a mudbl—that word, don’t worry.”
“You sort of just did, at least in your head, you insufferable—no, that’s not what I’m questioning right now. What do you mean, I can’t do either by myself?”
He riffled the pages of the book in front of him idly. “Can you give yourself a back massage?”
“Malfoy.”
He sat forward, bringing his forearms up to rest on the table and interfacing his fingers. “I didn’t think I’d be the one to explain this to you, Granger, but when a man gets aroused, he finds a witch and the result is called an orgasm.”
She processed this statement for a beat. “You don’t think women get aroused too?” Now she was truly concerned, particularly for the women she often saw hanging around him.
“I know women get aroused, Granger.” That smug smirk was back. “Trust me, I’m well acquainted with it. Who do you think they come to to…come?”
“Women don’t need a man to come,” she said, both bemused that he thought it and aghast that he was so confident that was spouting it off like truth.
He scoffed. “Is that what Muggles teach?”
“Is that what Purebloods teach?” she shot back. “That women are just…just helpless vessels for your…” She wasn’t sure she could say the word in front of him. Not that she was embarrassed, necessarily, but she felt it would delight him to hear her say cum and she refused to give him an inch.
“Pureblood wives are taught that sex is meant to extend the bloodline,” he said, sounding like he was reciting from rote whether he intended to or not. “And that’s only possible with a Pureblood husband. The girls I’m with are just future Pureblood wives. Although, not mine.”
She gaped. “That is…the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”
And then she couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Oh my god. You really think that…that women don’t masturbate? That they can’t?”
His smug expression had turned stony at her laughter. “It’s true.”
She took a moment to get herself back under control, his expression having wrought another wave of giggles from her. “You are…a bigger idiot than I ever imagined. Oh Merlin.” She wiped under her eyes where mirthful tears had collected. “I feel an urgent need to interview a few Slytherin women. Could you let me into your common room later?”
“What, you’re claiming that they…that you…” He seemed at a loss for words.
She grinned at his fumbling. “Oh yes, Malfoy. We can come all on our own.”
A pink flush blossomed on his cheeks but his expression was still stony. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well. I’m not sure what you want me to do about that.”
She was still smiling as she turned back to her work. Perhaps she’d just wrap up her current section and then round it off with a comprehensive summary before her closing paragraph…
“Prove it.” His voice cut through her humor.
She glanced back up at him. “Prove it how?”
He flicked his brows. “Show me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Show you…?”
“Don’t be dense. Show me how you make yourself come.”
It was her turn to blush. “I’m not going to masturbate for you.”
He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “Fine. But that only proves my point.”
“Me not masturbating for you doesn’t mean I can’t,” she hissed.
“Whatever you say,” he laughed, then went back to reading through his work, evidently confident she’d been simply provoking him with her rebuttals.
It felt like a lose-lose situation whether she showed him or not. But even so, there were two things Hermione Granger could not abide: willful ignorance and a man telling her how her body worked.
She had pushed back her chair and rounded the table before she’d fully thought through the ramifications, but it was Malfoy. She felt nothing for him, and taking him down a peg, proving he was wrong about yet another aspect of the world, was too enticing to pass by. She flicked her wand to cast silencing and notice-me-not charms around their study nook and then used her hand to push his book aside.
He looked up, annoyed but then surprised to see her beside him. She hopped up to sit on the edge of the table and lifted a leg so hers framed his thighs.
“Granger, what are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.
“Showing you, you idiot.” She tossed her wand to the table. “Watch. Do not touch me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he retorted but she could already see the way his eyes were skimming up her bare legs.
“Or yourself,” she added. The last thing she needed was Draco Malfoy pulling his cock out in front of her. Hermione didn’t often find herself aroused in the library but despite herself, that image did unfair things to her.
And there was something about arguing with Malfoy about orgasms that had gotten her rather wet. She put it down to the satisfaction she’d feel in proving him wrong but she knew part of it was due to the man in front of her. He was, unfortunately, objectively attractive. His platinum hair and intense silver-blue eyes and sneering, smirking mouth — not to mention his broad physique. If he’d had a different personality, she’d have climbed him like a tree already.
But…even with his personality, there was something about him that made her blood pulse.
She kept her eyes on his, though his own were still mapping the spread of her thighs, and began by brushing her hair off her shoulders with soft fingertips. Her neck was very sensitive and she usually began her solo sessions there. As always, the soft caress sent a rush of sensation through her, tightening her nipples and raising faint goosebumps along her arms. She let out a little sigh and his eyes cut to hers.
His gaze was intense on her and when it dropped to her hands, she watched his head tilt slightly. He was cataloging her actions, learning from her.
Merlin, why did that thought get her so hot?
“My neck is sensitive,” she murmured without conscious thought.
His eyes tracked up her throat to her eyes. “Yeah?”
He didn’t sound half as confident as he had and it thrilled her. She trailed her fingers down to her collarbones and then to the buttons of her white blouse. She fiddled with one for a moment, his eyes fixated on the action, before she decided against it and instead brushed her fingers over her clothed nipples. Even through her shirt and thin bra, the touch lit her up.
“My nipples, too.”
She was going to lean into it, she decided. If there was ever a moment she could use her knowledge for good when it came to making Malfoy a slightly better person, surely it was this. His future wife could thank her.
He swallowed thickly.
She toyed with her nipples for a few moments, brushing softly and lightly pinching, letting the tension pool between her thighs as he watched with rapt attention.
Godric, what she wouldn’t give to have someone’s mouth on her right now…she quickly banished the thought. This was about showing him the power of female independence.
She trailed her right hand down to the waistband of her skirt, but then carried on to the hem where it rested against her thighs. It’d be easier to show him if she lifted her skirt, she reasoned.
She brought her left foot up to rest on his thigh for support but also because it delighted her to imagine her dusty shoe print soiling his impeccable trousers. She felt him tense his muscle under her foot and then forcibly relax it again. She was momentarily tempted to glide her foot up to prod at his groin and see how hard he was but she kept foot where it was and her eyes on his, determined not to let him see that she was thinking about his cock in any capacity.
“Any questions so far?” she asked him, voice low but purposefully unaffected, more to tease him than expecting an actual answer.
He surprised her by asking, just above a whisper, “How aroused are you right now?”
She bit the inside of her lip to quell her initial response of very and instead slipped her hand up her skirt and into her knickers. She was slick, so wet that her knickers were damp. She withdrew her hand and showed him her fingers, glistening faintly with her arousal, as answer.
Malfoy, damn him, licked his lips at the sight and she almost gave in and begged him to put his mouth on her.
His eyes were intense on hers as he looked at her. “So now what do you do?”
“Shall I tell you or show you?” she quipped, trying to get a hold of herself.
“Show me and tell me,” he told her. “Tell me what you’re doing to make yourself come.”
Fuck.
She forced herself to swallow and then tilted her head. “Now I’m going to rub my clit. You do know what a clit is, don’t you?”
His smirk showed he didn’t think much of her tone. “Yeah, Granger. I’m well acquainted with the clit.” The confident lilt was back. He wet his bottom lip in a way that could have been subconsciously had he not been making quite intentional eye contact with her.
Heat fizzled through her but she held his gaze as she brought both hands to the hem of her skirt and slipped it up until her light blue knickers were exposed. He lost their little contest, his eyes darting down almost immediately to fix on the apex of her thighs. She wondered if he could see a damp spot against the lightly colored fabric.
She kept her left hand holding her skirt and slid her right over the gusset of her knickers then up and inside them. He half opened his mouth and then shut it, evidently thinking better of what he’d been about to say.
She was simultaneously nervous and desperate to hear what it had been.
“What?” she whispered, stroking her fingertips lightly down her slit and then back up to brush her clit. Her toes curled within her shoes at the teasing sensation.
“Nothing.” He sounded unsure again.
She snorted. “You’re holding back now?”
He hesitated for a moment then said, “I was just going to ask if…well, I can’t really see what you’re doing.” His flush had deepened slightly.
It made her feel potent.
“You want to see my cunt?” she asked him with forcibly indifferent curiosity.
He clenched his jaw. “Yes.”
“Alright.” She withdrew her hand and then reached down to pull the gusset of her knickers to the side, baring herself to him as if it meant nothing to her. She watched as his eyes ate her up, heavy on where she was practically dripping onto the desk.
On his lap, his hands flexed but didn’t stray. She wondered with a rush of heat if he was desperate to touch himself, too. She expected the pressure in his trousers would be getting quite unbearable soon, if it wasn’t already. The thought that he was suffering because of her, and obeying her instructions to not touch himself, was immensely gratifying.
She dipped a finger inside herself and then used the wetness to lubricate her way as she began a slow, circuitous motion around her clit.
“I like it soft and slow to start,” she told him impassively. “Then I gradually increase the pressure. And then the pace.” She followed along to her words and her hips flexed involuntarily to press closer into her hand.
“See that?” She managed an steady voice even though if she’d been alone, she would’ve been moaning. “My body likes what I’m doing to it.”
He made a sound that perhaps was meant to be a hum of acknowledgement but came out more like a strangled groan.
The sound rocked through her and she slid two fingers inside herself to relieve some of the pressure that was steadily building. She fucked herself with them for a few beats and then retreated back to her clit. The sensation felt twice as strong now, her orgasm within reach.
And fuck, she’d never been so close to coming so quickly in the presence of someone else. She could get herself off alone in under a minute — she’d timed herself once, for science — but there was a level of vulnerability that someone else added to the equation which extended her typical duration. Apparently she either didn’t consider Malfoy a person (quite possible) or his presence was only improving her experience (unfortunately more likely but very confusing).
Either way, the reality of it was that she was about a minute away from coming.
“I’m getting close,” she told him in as measured a voice as she could manage. “All by myself, see? I didn’t need a cock.”
His eyes were half-lidded, watchful and assessing on her hand. “Maybe not,” he conceded, voice low. “But I bet it would feel good, wouldn’t it?”
She thought she did an admirable job not reacting to that externally but her cunt clenched at the suggestion. It would feel good; in fact, it would push her right over if she had something inside her to squeeze around. But it didn’t have to be a cock, necessarily…
She betrayed herself by looking at his hands, his fingers thicker than hers by double.
“Maybe if it were someone else’s,” she allowed.
He laughed, darkly amused. “Granger, if I were someone else, you wouldn’t be doing this right now.”
She hated to admit it but…he was right. If it had been Ron making such boldface claims she’d have simply lectured him for thirty minutes, sans hand in knickers. But Malfoy drove her absolutely mad. His stupid cocky smile and damned confidence over something incorrect, yet another lie he told himself to feel more powerful over her.
She’d lost her mind to prove him wrong.
“How do you know if a girl has orgasmed?” she asked instead of responding to his goading comment, her mind racing to justify what her body was now demanding.
He grinned a self-satisfied smile. “I can feel it.”
She gulped and then flicked her eyes to his hand. “Then I want you to put a finger in me, so you can’t convince yourself that I’m about to fake it.”
It was a bold request, a line they couldn’t uncross. He seemed to make the same assessment and either didn’t care about the consequences or chose to ignore them.
“Which one do you want?” he asked, risking her ire by spreading his left hand proprietarily across her right thigh.
She squirmed under his touch and unthinkingly chose, “Middle.”
“One or two?” His eyes were hot on hers.
“One.” She let out an admittedly shuddery exhale. “I don’t know if two would fit right now. I’m…I’m very close. And I get really…really tight.”
His gaze darkened and then his lips quirked in a facsimile of a smirk. “Prove it.”
His dare granted her the final justification she needed. She spread her legs slightly in invitation and he brought his hand upward, curling all but his middle finger loosely down to his palm. He circled her opening once and she felt her walls clench in anticipation. His eyes darted up to hers briefly, checking, and then he slid his finger into her.
She couldn’t stop the whimper than tore out of her, her cunt baring down instantly to clutch him within her.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
Her cheeks were burning. “Don’t move it,” she instructed breathily. “This…this has nothing to do with you.”
This was the orgasm that was beginning to crawl its way up her spine. She kept up her pace on her clit but couldn’t help the slight rock of her hips against his hand when she used her other hand to pluck at a nipple.
“I’m going to come,” she gasped.
“Do it.” He was holding completely still as she’d told him to but the heat in his eyes felt like a physical touch against her skin.
She only half convinced herself that the way her orgasm immediately seized her had nothing to do with his gravelly command.
She bit down hard on her lip to keep quiet but a soft whine escaped despite her best efforts. And then she was coming, her cunt squeezing around his finger for an excruciating three seconds before pulsing in waves of toe-curling release.
Her hips rocked against his hand again without her permission and he broke his control for one fleeting second when he curled the digit against her front wall. Feeling him moving inside her sent an after-shock through her, so unexpected that she couldn’t hold her moan.
“You come hard,” he told her, sounding dazed. “Your little cunt would choke my cock to death, Granger.”
He’d brought a hand to the bulge straining in his trousers and now squeezed himself over the fabric. She decided to permit his disobedience; he’d been good when it counted.
And despite herself, she did want to see his cock. Wanted to know how hard he was for her. And ideally sink down onto it. Her orgasm had been satisfying but also invigorating in a way that made her want more.
She pulled her hand off her clit and to her mouth, absently sucking her fingers clean. “I suppose you’ll never know,” she paused to muse indifferently.
His jaw clenched so hard she saw a muscle jump through his cheek as he watched her mouth suck. “I suppose not.”
“Unless…” She withdrew her fingers from her mouth and dried them absently on her shirt.
He raised a brow, dragging his finger out of her and making her squirm. He examined the glistening digit for a moment.
“Unless?” he prompted, and then brought it to his mouth.
It had to be said, watching resolutely proud Pureblood Draco Malfoy sucking the juices of her little Muggleborn cunt off his finger was a sight she never thought she’d witness.
“Unless…would you rather,” she smiled coyly at him. “Make yourself come here, right now, or in your dorm alone?”
If he was willing to play along, perhaps the next round could be mutually beneficial.
He smirked.