Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it.”

“As long as I have you,” Abraxas took her hand and kissed the palm, “you’re all the luck I’ll ever need.”

Hermione smiled and stood on the tip of her toes to kiss him on the lips.

He broke away from the kiss with a grin, shot her a wink and jogged towards his band mates.

“How sickeningly sweet.”

Hermione turned to find Tom Riddle looking down at her with a sneer and her smile dropped from her face.

“What do you want Riddle?”

He stood at her left, close enough for her hell to smell his aftershave. It smelled enticingly aquatic, like he would drown you at the bottom of a lake if you let him get any closer to you.

“I’m here to support my best friend, same as you.”

The band started playing and Abraxas started singing, his raspy voice carrying across the Great Hall. The students around them started swaying, and then dancing. Hermione let the music sway her. She had always been enthralled by his voice. Deep and husky, with a gravel that scratched her brain just the right way, spreading goosebumbs all over her skin.

A finger traced down her spine from her neck to her bum and she shuddered. She turned to glare at the owner of said finger.

“Stop it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Stop what?”

His finger travelled lower to the back of her thighs, where it started tracing patterns known only to him.

She blushed furiously and looked around them but all the other students were either paying attention to the band, as she should, or paying attention to their dancing partners, as she certainly should not.

“Relax, Hermione,” she felt his chest rumble against her back as he moved to stand behind her, his right hand continuing its journey under her skirt, his left hand coming to rest innocently against her left hip, as if he were just dancing with her. “Nobody’s looking at you. And if they did, I would gouge out their eyes and make them eat them,” he added right as his fingers grazed her slit through her knickers.

Hermione wasn’t sure if the dampness that spread there was due to his touch or his words and she didn’t want to find out.

“We said we would stop,” she tried to breathe out evenly.

His fingers pushed the gusset of her knickers to the side and traced a line from her slit to her clit and her breath hitched.

“I said no such thing.”

His thumb started drawing circles against the hood of her clit, moving the skin there with a softness she never imagined him capable of.

“I said we would stop.”

He hummed and pressed his thumb more firmly against her swelling clit and she bit her tongue to stop from moaning.

“Go ahead, Hermione. Stop me.”

Her hand shot to his right forearm.

He paused his ministrations. She held her breath. He exhaled slowly. She dug her nails through his knit sweater until she felt them press into his skin, almost hard enough to draw blood, just like he liked it. He rewarded her by slipping two fingers inside her and picking his patterns back up, his thumb steady on her clit, his fingers massaging the front of her walls, his nose burying into her curls, his left hand spreading against her left hip and holding her still.

“Stop squirming,” he whispered, “you know what that does to me.”

He pressed his erection against the small of her back and pressed his thumb harder. She came apart in his arms, his frame against her back and his arms around her the only things keeping her upright.

In her post bliss clarity, with her boyfriend’s voice still blaring around her, she tried to step out of his arms but they only tightened around her. She heard him murmur an incantation and her knickers vanished.

She felt fabric rustle behind her, felt him probing at her entrance, his breath coming out faster against the nape of her neck.

Abraxas’s voice got louder, the drums got faster.

Tom entered her in one swift motion and buried himself in her to the tilt.

Her lips parted and Abraxas shot her a wink from the stage before losing himself again in the performance.

She’s never felt dirtier.

She tried to look around her, terrified at the idea of someone watching the Head Boy grind his cock against her slick cunt.

“Don’t look at them,” he murmured and she looked back ahead. “Don’t even think about them.” His voice was smooth, too smooth, the complete opposite of Abraxas. He ground his hips against her again and she forgot all about Abraxas. “Don’t think about anyone but me and you.”

His voice, his breath, his touch hypnotised her. Nothing else existed, no one else existed, it was only the two of them.

“How are you feeling right now?” he asked and ground again.

She bit her lips.

“I don’t want to make you scream,” he ground again, “don’t make me ask you twice,” again.

“Good,” she panted, “I’m feeling good.”

His left hand tightened painfully against her hip, his fingers digging bruises into the soft flesh, pulling her to him, pressing her so hard against him she didn’t know anymore where she ended and where he began. His other sneaked to her swollen clit and started a maddening pattern. He was just firm enough to have her squirming against him but light enough to keep her hips chasing his fingers. Soon enough, her breath started coming out ragged.

His left hand left her hip to sneak under her shirt and press against the soft skin of her stomach right above her belly button. His skin against hers somehow felt more intimate than his cock pounding into her. He pressed his face further into her curls, his lips aligning with her ear, his hot breath tickling her there.

“I want to feel you clench around my cock,” he whispered and bit her earlobe.

He was everywhere, behind her, beside her, inside her, setting every one of her nerves on fire until… “Come for me.” Her vision went white.

When she came to, her nails were digging into his forearm and he was groaning into her ear, his hips still, his cock throbbing inside her. He sighed, his breath tickling her again, earning him a shudder.

“Good girl,” he breathed out, his hand still petting her under her shirt.

“Open your eyes.” That’s when she realised she had closed them. She opened her lids to meet Abraxas’s grey eyes staring right at her from the stage and her heart leaped to her throat.

“Raise your right hand.” She followed his order mechanically, hoping against all odds that her blush wasn’t visible from across the hall.

“Smile and wave.” She smiled and waved. If she just smiled and waved everything would be alright. As soon as Abraxas returned the wave, Tom removed his soft cock from her and replaced it with his fingers. Hermione stopped breathing.

“You can stop waving now.” She put her hand down. She felt him murmur an incantation against the nape of her neck and her knickers materialised against her skin again. He carefully removed his fingers from inside of her and made sure her knickers were sitting in place. Then he petted her slit through her damp knickers. More wandless magic and ruffle and he righted their clothes, not a single wrinkle left, as if nothing had ever happened except for the throbbing between her legs.

“Don’t forget to breath”, he whispered one last time before standing at a respectable distance next to her just in time for Abraxas to reach them.

“How were we?” Abraxas asked, apprehension tilting his voice.

“Phenomenal,” Tom answered smoothly. “The witches won’t be able to keep their hands off you tonight.”

Abraxas let out a laugh and swung an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her against his side.

“I only have eyes for one witch,” he said and pressed a kiss against her temple, enjoying the blush that spread across her face.

“Lucky her.”

Hermione raised her eyes to meet Tom’s intense stare then quickly averted them again, her hand coming up to sit on Abraxas’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her treacherous fingers and Tom’s spend pooling into her ruined knickers.