Wrote this in one day, waiting for the amazing Waymay to write her not-so-one shot. Got the idea while falling asleep in my husband's arms the night before. Hopefully, ya'll like. It's worth getting to the end, I promise you. XD Rated M for smut. Duh.

As always, thank you Waymay for editing this chap, and getting so enthralled in the smut you forgot about the 'that'. XD Hahaha... (Hearts) Also, she came up with the Title! THANK YOU!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.
~A.

A/N: The word mudblood is used in this story. If that is a trigger for you muggleborns, best watch out. XD

Chapter Song:

"Sick" by Barcelona
Waymay introduced me to this. LOVE BARCELONA.

"…Granger?"

Draco stood in the doorway of his London penthouse, eyebrows worked together in a state of confusion as he blinked once, twice, three times and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Moments ago, he had been on the cusp of discovering a new potion in which to remove stubborn nose hair in his dreams, and now he stood before a shivering, angry, tear-stained-cheeks Hermione Granger who looked soaked from head to toe in her Ministry regulation robes.

Draco blinked again, brain still muddled. Was this part of the dream? Had running into her at the Ministry patent floor caused him to subconsciously think about her at some point in his sleep-induced hallucinations? Possibly had something to do with that bottle of bourbon next to the settee he fell asleep in hours ago… he should say something.

"What are you doing here?" He gave a long stretch, attempting to hold the contempt he felt for being awoken in his eyes as he raked them over her form. This was highly inappropriate. They weren't friends. Or chums. They'd barely spoken at all in the last three years following the War's end, aside from the occasional forced conversation at the Ministry in regards to new regulations. His freelance work in alchemy meant he occasionally would be thrown into the Ministry's law division, and, a handful of times, he was forced to converse with his once childhood rival. So there would be no reason he could think why she stood before him, drenched, and -was she crying? Merlin, Draco didn't know what to do with crying. Especially when it came from someone he didn't much care for. Would he be expected to comfort her? Surely she knew better than that. She must have the wrong place… He glanced behind him to his lavish apartment and then back to her. Yeah, and blast-ended skrewts made good pets. (Insert eye roll here.)

"M-M-Malfoy…" She choked between small sobs, rubbing her nose on the back of her sleeve as she attempted to wipe away the liquids dripping from her eyes and nose. That settled it. She knew exactly where she ended up. Well, fuck. That meant she expected something from him. But what? He could hardly care less what happened to the muggleborn witch on his doorstep. Sure, he'd be expected to go to her funeral if she were to fall out the window at the end of the hall, but only for appearance's sake. Anyone who knew the two knew that they disliked each other to this day.

Draco gave a reproachful sigh, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He felt a bit odd, standing here in his lounge pants and nothing else in front of Gryffindor's once prudish princess, but Granger didn't seem to pay him much mind as she dabbed at her now lessening tears and said, "May I come in?"

Pushy, wasn't she? Before Draco could get a word in edgewise, the insufferable witch pushed her way past him and stepped into his apartment without so much as a confirmation to her question. Clearly, it was rhetorical. Well, not clearly. Draco hadn't received the memo. He rolled his eyes and muttered, "By all means. At least let me put antimacassars around the furniture before you go sobbing all over them." He shut the door and found Granger seated on his favorite settee, already wiping the rim of his bourbon bottle with her less soggy sleeve. Draco watched in horror as she kicked back a shot straight from the bottle and closed her eyes as she pulled it from her lips and winced.

"Serves you right," Draco sneered, stalking his way across the room and ripping the bottle from her hands. "Hope it burns something pretty down your throat."

Granger's eyes pried open, and she cleared her throat before saying in a pleasant, controlled tone, "Thank you, Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow, straightening himself slowly to stand upright before taking his free hand and checking his forehead for a fever. No. Cool to the touch. "Don't bloody thank me. What the Hell are you doing in my home?"

Her brown eyes searched around the living space she dwelled in, as if taking it in for the first time that she was in Draco's personal sanctuary instead of in her own, presumably smaller and uglier, flat. Hermione Granger then blinked twice, shifted back against the cushions, and said, "Ron and I are through."

His face was expressionless for a moment as he tried to piece it together. "What…?" What did that have to do with Hermione Granger seated on his settee, attempting to drink his alcohol, in his home?

"Ron and I -we called it quits tonight." She reached out, attempting to steal the bottle of bourbon again, but Draco was quicker, stumbling back in his least Malfoy-ish (which was to say 'dignified') way. Okay, things couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Surely you have friends you could be crying over this with? Like… Potter?" And not Draco?

"He told me I was obdurate. Ron. Can you believe that?" She gave a soft laugh, though it held bitterness in the tone. Draco wasn't sure how to react, so he simply stood silently. Pensive. Listening. He needed a way to get her out of his home without a struggle -he didn't need some nosey neighbor to report to the Daily that he threw a War heroine out of his flat in the middle of the night while she sobbed.

He settled on small talk until he could formulate a plan. "Weasley didn't really use the word 'obdurate' did he? I find it hard to imagine he would know the meaning." He crossed his arms, bottle still tucked in his hand.

Granger chirped an airy laugh and stared into Draco's fireplace. The flames were nearly embers by now -he'd fallen asleep some time ago without feeding it, so the light it gave off barely illuminated the room. Granger's face gleamed orange against it's glow. "No… stubborn. That's the word."

"Well, he's right. You are stubborn." When she gave him a contemptible glare, he added, gesturing around the room, "You did just insert yourself into my home, unannounced, without permission."

Granger glared, but remained silent. Clearly, she had no intention of moving from her spot.

"Why are you here? I can think of a million different places you could be right now. Should be." He walked over to the settee and offered the bourbon out. If she wasn't going to leave, he might as well let her drink a bit more. After all, her muggleborn lips had already touched the spout. There was no drinking it anymore. He'd taken it away to reprimand her, but as he looked into her eyes, he almost took pity on her. Almost. -Granger took the bottle and began to nurse it quietly. Each time she took a swig, she nearly choked at the harshness, but managed to swallow all the same. After four good pulls, she set the bottle in her lap and sighed.

"You don't care for me."

He narrowed his eyes, tensing his jaw as he raised his nose superiorly in the air. "Oh, good. I've made it obvious, then. -So, why are you still here?"

She took one more swig from the bottle. "You don't care for me," she said again, quieter. Draco opened his mouth to sneer something awful, but she cut him off, adding, "That's why I'm here."

There was silence to follow. Long, drawn out silence that made Draco uneasy. He couldn't deny it -he didn't care for her. He hardly knew Hermione Granger aside from their days in school, their interactions during the War, and the cordial conversations they were forced to participate in at the Ministry. It would be frowned upon in his social circles to be seen with her this late at night in his private home. She might be a War Hero, but she was still a muggleborn. And though Draco didn't harbor the same hatred he once did as a youth, he still didn't appreciate his reputation besmirched with the idea this one thought she could stop by anytime she felt like. What if someone saw her come up?

She jumped off the settee suddenly, bottle in her grasp as she sauntered up to him until she was within arms reach of him. Her eyes narrowed. "I bet it makes you uncomfortable to be this close to me."

Draco snorted a laugh, feigning indifference. "I'm forced to put up with your lesser sort most of the time. I believe I can deal with standing three feet from you." Even so, he took a step back. Her eyes drifted over his face, his chin, down his neck and rested on his shoulder. Then she took another step closer, reaching out with her free hand - her fingers dusted down his chest with feather-light touch. "What do you think you're-"

"Could you put up with it?" she asked him, eyes snapping back up to his. "Being this close to me?" There was something shrouded in those earth-toned orbs of hers. Draco recognized that look almost immediately, but feared to address it. It was the same look Pansy gave him their fifth year while they patrolled corridors together as Prefects. The same one the bartender down at the Leaky gave him when he walked in on Friday evenings. Despite his distaste for the witch, his body reacted to the subtle cues of blown pupils and slightly elevated temperature of her skin.

"What are you going on about?" he sneered quietly, fearful to move. If he moved, his body might betray him.

Hermione Granger's fingertips slid down his abdominal muscles and rested at the hem of his lounge pants, her eyes following her fingers. Draco forgot how to breathe half a moment -being touched this way, no matter who did it, still made his skin prickle with desire. Shit. This wasn't happening, was it? No. It most certainly wasn't. Instinctively, his hand jerked up and caught her wrist, prying it down to her side -but it forced him to step closer to do so. Silver-blue met warm chocolate. How peculiar… she possessed such naturally long eyelashes… he'd never noticed before.

"You don't like me," she told him, stepping directly into his personal bubble. "I know you don't. And I don't like you." She brought the bottle of bourbon up to her lips, throat contracting as alcohol spilled down. Suddenly, Draco became very interested in the way her lips curled around the tip of the spout. It was nearly a disappointment when she released the bottle and shoved it into his free hand. "Yes, there are a thousand other places I could be right now. But I don't want to be cared about -caring is what got me into this in the first place." She reached up now that she possessed a free hand and stroked down the side of Draco's left cheek. The witch was intelligent- with one of his hands clasping a bottle and the other around her wrist, he had no way to swat her fingers away as they traced down his jaw and the side of his neck.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he snarled, half tempted to drop the bottle to push her away -but to do so would mean to ruin the rug beneath their feet. And Merlin, that was an expensive rug.

"I want to forget. I want to be angry. I want to let out my frustration." Her nails raked over his collarbone, and Draco clenched the bottle of bourbon in a desperate attempt to control himself as he hissed out an anxious breath. That felt… good. "I don't want to be cared about, Malfoy. I want to forget, and I think you can give that to me."

His pureblood tongue was quick into action, throwing out insults to fend off the growing erection in his trousers. "What makes you think I'd want to do anything with you?"

"Maybe you don't," she said, running those elegant fingers down to his waistband yet again while Draco's grip on her other wrist tightened. "But I've never known you to miss an opportunity for control."

"Control-? Oh, Merlin." Granger's hand slipped lower and palmed him through the thin material of his lounge pants, stirring awake his already half-formed phallus.

"I'd give you it. All of the power," she offered, moving forward and brushing her lips against his neck -she was a good head shorter than him, so she had to stand on the tiptoes of her shoes to reach his throat. Between kisses, she made her offer. "Make me forget, Malfoy. It doesn't have to be nice. Or romantic. It just has to distract."

Draco could feel the bottle slipping from his hand, and in a swift decision, he released her wrist and stumbled backwards, nearly falling over the coffee table behind him. He hit the edge of it with his shins and cursed loudly. "Fuck!" He set the bourbon down and straightened his posture, attempting to command authority. "Granger, I think you're a bit under the table."

"Obviously. That's what drinking will do, Malfoy." She stepped forward again, though she folded her hands together in front of her, eyes settling on his. "I won't beg you. If you don't want it, I won't force you. But I doubt you'll ever get an opportunity like this again."

"Opportunity?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "To what? Take advantage of you in a weakened state?"

"Are you a Slytherin or aren't you?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow of her own. The quip made his mouth fall open.

"Careful, Granger. You're pushing it."

"Good. I would hope so." She stepped forward and pushed him lightly in the chest. Not enough to actually do anything -but it certainly got his attention. "I never took you for someone who cared about anyone's feelings but his own." She shoved him again with slightly more force.

Draco glared. "Stop pushing me."

"Or you'll what?" She laughed. "What will you do, Malfoy? I'd forgotten until now. How much of a coward you are-"

Draco stepped forward, pressing his chest against hers as he glared her down, nose to nose. "Watch yourself, mudblood."

He expected her to storm out, then. He imagined her gasping, glaring, maybe attempting to slap him before turning away and stomping out of his door without so much as a glance back at him. He did not expect her eyes to close, or her to bite her lower lip, or for her to reach up and run her fingers over his chest in such a seductive manner. "Yes…" she whispered, eyes fluttering back open. Draco's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. She… liked the degradation?

"What's gotten into you?" he muttered.

"Not a lot, as of late," she replied airily. "Care to fix that?"

"Granger, stop it."

"No." She pushed up on her toes and attempted to kiss him. Draco turned his head away at the last moment -slightly disappointed with himself as her lips came in contact with his cheek instead. She was so close to him, now, that he could smell the alcohol on her breath, but also the scent of roses and lilacs. Perfume? Conditioner from her hair? Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly. "I'm so tired of everyone being nice. I just don't want to feel anymore... Please, Malfoy." She said she wouldn't resort to begging, but here she was. "Help me forget him. I want to feel numb."

There was a tightness in Draco's throat, and he swallowed to try to alleviate the blockage. "What makes you think I can help with that?" he asked in a low, gravelly tone.

Granger began to trail brazen kisses down his cheek, his jaw, his throat. He kept perfectly still, a statue of control. He would have backed away, but her lips felt so good against his skin, and they were extremely talented. "You don't care about me," she repeated, yet again. It seemed to be her mantra for the evening. "Whatever we do, I know I won't feel anything in the morning. You can use me. I'm using you." Her fingers graced over his stomach, around his hips, and trailed up his back before clawing in a sharp line all the way down to the top of his ass, making him hiss in involuntary excitement. "Use me, Draco."

Somewhere, deep, deep down inside of his primal instincts, Draco became enticed by the idea of controlling Hermione Granger. The idea of using her up like a candle burning down till there was no more wick… Merlin, he hadn't felt so selfish in years. Or powerful. No ties. No limitations of affections or expectations to uphold. Simply unbridled, unadulterated control over one of his least favorite individuals. And she was practically begging him to do it. She wanted to forget all about the turnip-faced oaf she'd been infatuated with since Hogwarts, and she wanted to do that by giving everything over to the one person that Weasley hated more than anyone. Draco felt quite impressed; Granger might have placed well in Slytherin. And there was also the beautiful thought of taking something Weasley once loved and defiling it. Was that what Granger had in mind? Was this her way of getting back at her ex? By sleeping with his enemy?

'But she's a muggleborn,' said the pureblood instilled in him from birth.

'She's also an oh-so-willing participant in her own destruction. How can you say no to that? You know she'll regret it when she wakes up. No matter what she says.'

Draco wondered if that was good, bad, or both. He realized he didn't want to know the answer, nor did he want to care about it.

His decision was made.

"You really want to forget about Weasley?" he whispered, taking his index finger and tilting it under her jaw to raise her gaze to his. There was something so powerful in the way he felt when she nodded her head so obediently. "And you understand that I find you beneath me?" The struggle for control in her eyes was better than the obedience as she forced herself to nod again. Oh, this was sweeter than a sugar quill. "Say it. Say you're beneath me."

He felt her jaw clench as she said, between her teeth, "I'm… beneath you."

Draco chuckled. "Oh, you make this too easy." How in Hell had he ended up so lucky this evening? "What do you want me to do to you, Granger? You want me to make you feel good?"

Her eyes lit up at the words, and she nodded. "Yes."

"Alright." He traced his finger up to the tip of her chin, and then up to brush along the apex of her lips. His eyes grazed over her damp clothes and he clicked his tongue in mocking disgust. "Oh, but those clothes will never do. But, I suppose, they do fit your lifestyle, don't they?" Her eyes turned to confusion, and he smirked. "Filthy clothes for a filthy muggleborn." He was half-sure she'd tear to the door at the words, but she stood her ground and squared up his smirk with darting her tongue out and licking along his fingernail.

Draco's cock twitched against his pants. Fuck, that was hot.

"Say it. You're a filthy muggleborn." He challenged her by sliding his finger across her tongue and earning a pleased moan in the back of her throat. As he withdrew his finger, he heard her utter the words.

"I'm a filthy mu-muggleborn."

"You'd do anything for me."

"I'd do anything for you."

Oh, sweet baby dragons. Could this get any better? "When I'm having my way with you tonight," he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear, "Remember that. Anything for me. And I want you to remember this was your suggestion. You came to me." He wanted her to remember when she woke up in the morning, sore between her thighs and satisfied beyond compare. He was going to make her as filthy as her blood, of that he was sure. "Strip. Slowly."

Granger's hands immediately went to the collar of her robes, unbuttoning the top button with haste as her eyes scanned over his for approval. He smirked, giving her the go-ahead for the rest of the buttons to follow, until she finally was able to sluff off the material and let it fall to the floor. Draco tutted and shook his head.

"As if I'd want your wet clothing all over my good rug."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "What would you have me do with them, then?"

Draco merely shrugged. "Figure it out."

She sighed, removed her wand from its holster around her waist, and dried them quickly before levitating them over across the settee. She made to dry the rest of her clothing -a simple white button up blouse and black pencil skirt, but Draco shook his head and thrust his hand out. "I'll be taking that."

"But it's my wand."

"And you're in my house. Asking for my help to make you forget about your ex. The wand, or you're welcome to leave." It was his ultimate challenge: she could either give up control completely, or this wasn't worth his time. He watched her struggle and relished in the displeasure of her stature as she finally thrust out her own hand and settled her wand gently in his fingers.

"I want it back," she whispered. Draco merely nodded and slipped it behind him, into his back pocket.

"Look at you," he mused, chuckling, "Handing over your wand to someone like me. That must have been difficult."

"Either get on with it or hand me it back," she said haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest in agitation. "I'm starting to believe this isn't worth it."

"And yet, here you are." He stopped pacing directly behind her, extending an arm around and pulling her, by the middle, into the firmness of his chest. Her damp clothing was cold against Draco's skin, but it didn't bother him. She wouldn't wear it too much longer, in any case. He listened to her controlled breathing as he nestled his nose into the crook of her neck and began to plant delicate, nearly gentle kisses along her shoulder. He felt her melt against him, sighing, desperate for this type of touch. How long had it been since she and Weasley were last intimate? Sure, they'd just ended, but by the way her body reacted to Draco's ministrations, he guessed it had been quite a long time since anything physical transpired for her and the red-headed dolt. All the much sweeter when he'd finally take her.

Two options sat before Draco: he could be rough, dominating, uncaring in any earthly fashion. He could force her into position after position, constantly forcing her on the brink of satisfaction just to take it away. It would be powerful. It would be satisfying now. But in the morning, she could hold it against him. She could chalk all her bad decisions up to alcohol and poorly made decisions. That would never do. He wanted to make her remember it and hate herself.

So, there was the second option: make her enjoy every goddamn second of it. Seduce her. Make her crave his touch and coax her to come so many times that she wouldn't be able to think straight. Make her scream his name underneath him not in anger, but in ecstasy. Give her everything Weasley never could, and then deny her come morning, when she would want it again. It would be the ultimate power play and so much more satisfying to know that she would feel guilty for loving it.

Of course, that still didn't mean he couldn't be a bit demeaning while he did it. "What are you, Granger?" He slid his fingers down her shoulder and arm, slipping his fingers between hers and intertwining them possessively.

"I don't… what do you…?" There was confusion in her voice, but she still managed to gasp as his teeth sunk in along her pulse point and began to suckle the tender flesh. He took his time, pulling harshly against the muscle, determined to make a bruise. He would mark her to shame her come morning. A heavenly moan fell from her mouth, and the fingers interlaced with his gripped tighter in response. When he was sure he'd thoroughly marked her, he licked affectionately and replied.

"You're my filthy little mudblood. And I want to hear you say it."

The hand around her stomach curled upwards, snaking its way up her abdomen and brushing under the supple curve of her breast. Granger gave a dull moan and backed up against him. His smirk widened.

"Say it for me, Granger. I'll make you forget all about that dunderheaded oaf. All you need to do is obey." His fingers skirted over her breast and kneaded her against her bra. "Say it."

"Mmm…" She gasped as he gripped her harder, and her hips bucked back, brushing her bum against his stiff prick. Regardless if she were a muggleborn completely beneath his status, her body was still something to be desired, and his body responded accordingly. He told himself controlling her, forcing her into a puddle of submission, was something acceptable. It was what he needed to tell himself, unless he dare to admit that he found himself secretly attracted to the brunette cradled in his arms like a delicate doll. "I'm…" She stiffened ever so slightly against him. "I'm a-"

"-No." He lightly bit her cheek, making her squirm. "Mine. You're my..." He prompted her.

It took her a moment, but she finished his sentence. "Mudblood." Fuck, the word sounded so beautiful coming from her lips. "I-I'm your mudblood."

"My filthy little mudblood," he corrected, smirking against her cheek. "And I'm going to make you feel oh-so-good, sweetheart. Be an obedient little minx and take off your shirt?" As her fingers worked to unbutton her blouse, his set to unhinging the small clasp at the back of her skirt and tugging the zipper down. He shimmied the skirt over her hips, down her legs, and allowed it to fall to the floor. With confident hands, he reached up and around, guiding her fingers over the last of her buttons, and with a quick turn, spun her around to face him. Her eyes were closed, her arms were shaking, but she was bared in front of him in her underwear and unbuttoned blouse, an image of perfection. Draco was surprised to see how smooth her skin appeared, or how desireable her breasts looked in that white cotton bra, or how delectable her thighs looked as they squeezed together as he stared at her lacy black boyshort panties. "You're just full of surprises, Granger."

She dared to open her eyes, then, and caught his in a sultry staredown of lust. With her mouth slightly parted and her breasts heaving up and down as she struggled to find breath beneath his wiltering stare, she looked more desireable than ever before.

"Touch me," he told her, guiding one of her hands over to the firmness trapped inside his pants. He watched her bite her lower lip and grip him gingerly, taking in his girth between her fingers. The pressure of her hand as she gripped him made him involuntarily groan in elation, and his eyes closed for half a moment as he soaked in the sensation of Hermione Granger, bookworm and war heroine, stroking his cock. He hissed an anxious breath and mumbled out, commandingly, "On your knees."

And then she was. She fell to her knees immediately, ever so eager to please him. Draco didn't know he could get any harder, but he was. Taking in the sight of having her on her knees, in her undies, staring up at him for instruction was better than anything he could ever imagine. If Weasley could see his precious ex-girlfriend now… Draco reached down, tugging at the waistband of his pants and freeing his cock into the nighttime air. He loved it when he caught Granger staring at him in all of his glory, over every inch of thick girth and enticing length. Merlin, he just wanted to shove his prick down her throat to hear her gag. No… he was trying to make her want this for years to come. He couldn't get carried away in… well, maybe he could. Just a little.

"Stick out your tongue," he said, bracing his cock in his hand and offering it out like a lolly for her to suck. Granger's face was a mixture of elation and humiliation as her eyebrows crinkled before she opened her mouth and presented her tongue for him. "Wider. All the way. That's it. Good little mudblood." If he was going to make her physically feel good, the least he could do for himself was tear her down a little emotionally. He extended his free hand out and tucked it behind her head, guiding her forward until the tip of his cock brushed against the pad of her tongue. "Fuck…"

Fuck, indeed. The sensation was delightful. Granger's tongue was soft, and wet, and warm as he slid the tip down the length of it so that she tasted the precum that leaked out at the thought of all the unholy things he planned to do to her. He loved every solitary moment of the degradation as he stroked his prick down her tongue again and again until he could no longer take it. The final time, he rested his cock against her tongue, put his hands on her cheeks, and, without warning, shoved straight back into her mouth all the way to her throat. He watched her eyes go wide, saw the surprise mixed with a feeling of helplessness as her hands went up to his hips to steady him from pushing in any further. Draco stopped when he felt her choke and remained still, allowing her to get used to the sensation.

Then he withdrew himself to the tip, gave a wink, said, "Ready?" and slammed back into her mouth again, drinking in the sight of the way her mouth stretched out around his cock to accommodate at the same time that her throat did. "Oh, holy fuck, Granger. Mmm… suck it." He dug his fingers into her curly locks and fisted them in earnest. "Suck my cock, you little slut." And then she did. Her mouth moved against him, tightening as she moved her mouth down the length before swirling her tongue at the tip and going briskly down the length again with her warm, wet mouth. "Yes." The hands in her hair jerked her forward until he was inside her entirely. He could hear her whimper, feel the vibration of her voice against his prick. He knew there were tears in her eyes as she attempted to breathe through her nose, but could care less if she could breathe at the moment. She felt so good with his cock down her throat.

He released her, and she fell back on her haunches, hands automatically slipping up to her throat to rub at the tender muscles there. She coughed, clearing her throat. Draco was right -there had been tears in her eyes, and they streamed down her cheeks now. Oh, but he couldn't have that. No matter how beautiful they looked spilling down her face, he needed her sated and satisfied. Carefully, he fell to his knees in front of her and licked away the tears with his tongue, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear in the process before whispering, "You did so well, Granger."

Something in her eyes clicked -like a light switch turning on. She was proud to have pleased him. Of course she would be, he thought, amused. Granger's entire world rested on being the best, on receiving praise for doing her best and excelling. Perhaps this was the ultimate way to tear her down. By building her up. "I'm so very proud of you." He reached out, stroked down her cheek with her thumb, and watched excitedly as her eyes fluttered shut and she bit her lower lip. Yes, this was most certainly the best approach to a satisfied Granger. "You're such a good girl, Hermione."

Her eyes snapped open, and for a moment, Draco thought he'd pushed the envelope. That was, until she suddenly pushed him backwards and onto his back while attacking his lips in a flurry of heated, passionate kisses that stole the breath out of him. Oh, Merlin's hat! This was not what he expected at all! He thought he'd be dominating her, coaxing her, not -not this. Oh shit, was she grabbing his cock right now? Fuck, that felt good. So did all of the brazen kisses down his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck me, Malfoy," she whispered seductively in his ear, hand moving up and down his cock in fluid movements that had him panting and groaning. She used the new precum at the tip to spread across the head, lubricating her palm and making the sensation that much more pleasant. Draco's hands were everywhere and nowhere at all -guiding over her still covered breasts, the smooth, flat surface of her stomach, the spindly yet muscular form of her arms. They rested on the hem of her underwear and, together, they shifted her legs until her underwear were down them, to her ankles, and finally, discarded across the room. Draco dipped his fingers immediately between the soft folds, finding her bare and wet and so warm. Her core was practically dripping and radiating with heat, and the urge overtook him to want to taste her. He slipped his middle finger into her pulsing core, earning a tempered whimper mixed with a sultry moan as his reward. From this angle, he curled his finger and immediately found the bundle of nerves that made her cry out, her hips buck forward, and a bead of sweat to collect down the side of her forehead.

"Oh, God," she groaned as he dragged his curled finger over the spot slowly, teasingly. "God, yes, Malfoy. Right there. That's… yes… there…" Her hips moved, gliding her wet pussy over his hand and rubbing her clit against his palm. From this angle, fingering Hermione Granger as she straddled his lap, Draco had never felt more powerful. Or sexually aroused. He remembered he wanted to taste her, but the beautiful way her mouth parted as he moved his finger inside of her made him hold out for the moment. All want for control fell out the window for now. All Draco Malfoy wanted to do to Hermione Granger was make her feel good.

"You like my finger inside of you, Granger?" he whispered, settling his free hand on her hip to guide her as he slipped a second finger inside her cunt and found her g-spot yet again. She whimpered, but didn't answer. "You like me fucking you with my fingers, don't you, Hermione?"

"Mmm! Fuck. Yes, I do."

Draco now wondered if Weasley even knew how to please the wonderous woman riding his fingers on top of him. The satisfaction on her face wore new, as if she hadn't experienced something so stimulating in a lengthy amount of time. There was no doubt about it -Granger was going to crave this, whether she wanted to or not, when this was all over. Good. That's what he'd wanted, wasn't it?

Most men believed slamming their fingers mercilessly into a woman was what got them off; Draco, however, knew better than that. He knew the best approach to a steady orgasm was a slow build. So he worked his fingers at a leisurely pace, testing each time to guarantee the right amount of pressure and stimulation to build her up. Each sigh, groan, moan, and gasp told him what he needed to know, how to adjust his fingers, when to rub against her clit and when to change up the pace to keep things interesting. Granger's hips began to ride his hand in desperation, getting closer to her release.

"Yesss…" She threw her head back in pleasure while her hands reached around and unclasped her bra. Draco, who already was rigid hard, thought he might come at the sight of her breasts exposed to him. Smaller, but not too small, with pert nipples that pebbled at the rush of cold air. Granger continued to fuck his fingers, but now Draco got to watch her breasts jiggle up and down in the process. The hand on her hip slid up her stomach and then pinched one of her nipples -not too harsh, but enough to get her attention. She reacted by slowly grinding against his fingers and palm while audibly moaning. And then, without warning, he felt her tighten up around his fingers as she came undone, mouth parted and gasping. Her skin flushed pink as she gasped breath after strangled breath. And, though Draco hated to admit it, she looked beautiful in that moment.

He leaned up, his fingers still inside of her, working to milk her orgasm to the last drop as he kissed along her neck and praised her. "Such a good job, Granger. You did so well. Do you feel how wet you are? Who made you that wet, hmm? Tell me."

"You did," she whispered into his ear.

"What's my name?"

She tensed, then melted against him. "Draco Malfoy."

"That's right. Don't forget it, Granger. Draco Malfoy made you come with just his fingers."

"Mmm…"

He, then, remembered he wanted to taste that delicious looking pussy. He removed his fingers from her, gently, and brought his fingers up to his lips, forcing his eyes on hers as he dipped them in and sucked at the sweet slickness coating them. And, wow. She tasted devine -sweet, and light, almost like strawberries but with more a savory flavor added in. Draco licked his fingers clean, eyes never leaving hers, and then stroked them down her neck when he finished.

"You're delicious," he admitted, smirking and causing a blush across her cheeks. "Stand up."

"What?" Her face looked confused, but she obeyed and stood. Draco pushed himself up to stand as well, cock still firm between his legs, though now it almost ached. He needed to bury himself inside her soon, or he was going to be in agony.

"Come with me."

He led the unassuming brunette across the soft glow of the living room, down the darkened hallway and into the last door at the end -his bedroom. He forgot he was supposed to be controlling her as he scooped her around the middle playfully and tossed her into his bed, atop the downy pillow top and five hundred thread count comforter. He didn't give her a chance to think about his actions as he climbed on top of her and scooped her face in his palms and kissed her. Kissed her. There was something so desperate in his need to make her feel something so suddenly. Merlin, what was happening to him? Why did he feel so completely out of control?

Granger, to his surprise, kissed him back with such delicious ardence that he found himself stroking down her face with his fingers, comforting her, coaxing the pain in her heart away. He now was so aggravatingly annoyed with Weasley for hurting this poor woman -he knew it couldn't be the other way around. The creature beneath him would never be as cruel. It had to be Weasley's fault. No doubt about it. He twirled her curls through his fingers, admiring their softness. The wanting between his legs would wait a moment. He needed to get a few things straight, first.

"Who made you come, Granger?"

"You did," she whispered against his lips, desperately attempting to make him kiss her again. Draco complied, drawing his hands down to her legs. He pulled them apart, around him, settling his cock between her thighs but not against her just yet.

"Admit it," he murmured into her mouth.

"Admit…? Admit what?"

"Admit you want this." He forgot himself, tracing small circles along her thighs as he pushed her legs further apart, spreading them until her knees touched the bed. Ooh, she was flexible. "You want me inside you, don't you, my little mudblood?" He didn't say it with conviction this time; he said it affectionately.

"Y-yes, Draco," she groaned as he licked a line up her throat. "Mmm… please. Fuck me. Make me forget."

Oh, he'd make her forget alright. He pressed her knees hard into the bed, spreading her thighs until he was sure they burned, and then released one of them to steady himself at her warm, wet entrance. "Beg me for it. Tell me whose cock you want inside you."

"Yours, Draco," she whimpered, wriggling underneath him, trying to press him into her. "I want your cock inside me."

"Damn right you do." And then like fingers in a glove, he slipped inside of her, sheathing his cock to the hilt, taking in the warmth, the tightness, the pure slip-n-slide that was Hermione Granger's pussy. He didn't move immediately. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room and searched over her face to find her eyes, staring back at him. Full of pleasure, but, also, full of... something else. He tried to figure out what it was, but she stroked his cheek, and he forgot about it. All that mattered, suddenly, was moving inside her, to make her feel good in ways that only he could bestow her.

Draco rolled his hips, pushing every last bit of his cock inside of her and hearing her moan in reply. And then he pulled out, just as slowly, letting the tip rest against her lips before thrusting upwards and slipping back inside of her. The sensation, so entrancing, forced his eyes shut, and he leaned forward, caging her face with his arms as he rested on his elbows and cradled the back of her head. Then he moved again, in and out, slowly, so slowly, watching her eyes dance and her mouth part in elation. Soft sighs escaped her lips each time he pushed harder into her, but still kept that slow, painful burn of rhythm, despite his urge to pound into her. She brushed her nose against his, begging him to kiss her. So, he did. He kissed her as he drove his cock into her, each time a bit more forceful. One of Granger's legs curled around his hip, angling him in a way that made her cry out. Draco smirked and repeated his movements. Oh, good. There was that sound again. He wanted to hear that all night long.

"You feel so wonderful, Hermione," he said, picking up his pace ever so slightly as she wrapped the other leg around his frame. "Gonna… make you forget… all about that asshat…"

Granger moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him against her, chest to chest, mouth to mouth. Draco supported his frame on one elbow while tucking his left arm down around the curve of her bottom and moving her with him, so they rocked into each other, pushing him as deep as he could go while also grinding his pelvis into her clit. The stimulation, along with the skin to skin contact of their chests and stomach mixed with their tongues exploring each other's mouths… Had Draco ever done this with any other witch? Been so lost and yet so sure of himself?

"Draco!" she moaned as he surprised her by thrusting harshly into her and biting down along her neck. Hearing his name did irreverent things to his mind, body, and soul. His thrusts became harsher, the fingers along her backside gripping their nails in like claws. The dragon inside him came out to play, snarling and biting and licking and fucking her senseless into his mattress. He could feel her tightening around him as he filled her pussy up over and over again with his cock. But he wanted her to come -no, needed her to, so he ground his hips forward and rubbed against her clit as he rode her until he saw her eyes close and her back arch. Then, he felt the uncontrollable tightening around his cock as she came around him, the thick band of muscles contracting and swallowing his cock while she came undone in a desperate, beautiful mewl. Draco rested inside of her, letting her settle into her orgasm and complete it before he moved again, building himself up. It wouldn't take him long.

"Say my name again," he told her, grey eyes searching her pools of mahogany.

"Draco…"

"Yes… again…"

"Draco…!"

"Again!"

"Draco!"

Draco Malfoy snapped awake, abruptly taken aback by the light flooding through his curtains and the male figure over near the window who had thrust them open: Blaise Zabini, his roommate.

"Fuck." Draco blinked, covering his face with his forearm to shield his eyes from the offending sunlight. Absentmindedly, his other arm searched the bed for a warm body next to him, but found it empty. So… it had been a dream. Only a dream. He hadn't been greeted by Hermione Granger in the middle of the night. She hadn't offered herself up to him, and he hadn't made love to her in his bedroom. Agitated, he sat upright and threw a pillow at his friend. "You better have a damn good reason for waking me up."

"Your patent meeting a good enough reason?" Blaise smirked, tossing the pillow back into Draco's face. "It's in ten minutes."

"T-Ten... " Draco looked about the room, grabbed up his wand from the night table, and waved it. 9:50AM blared back at him in a puff of red smoke. "SHIT!" He stumbled out of bed, trying to pry the covers off of him until he realized, with a fit of embarrassment-

"Good dream, then?" Blaise snorted a laugh, turning his eyes away from his friend's prominent erection. His eyes averted, he added, "Having dreams about Granger again?"

Draco glared daggers at the back of his friend's head as he stormed off to his walk in closet and rummaged around till he found his meeting robes. "Sod off, Blaise. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" His friend called from the other room, a chuckle in his voice. "You should have heard yourself. Granger this. Granger that. Granger, Granger Gra-"

Draco threw a shoe out of the closet, and it connected with Blaise's shoulder, shutting him up. He dressed quickly, fidgeting with his tie as he came out, one shoe on, and retrieved his other at Blaise's feet. "You breathe a word of what you heard to anyone else…"

"Yeah, yeah. You'll remove my testicles," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Get going, lover boy. Maybe today will be your lucky day?"

"I don't love her," Draco snarled, slipping his other shoe on and hopping about the room to do so.

"Why else are you fantasizing about slipping into her prissy cunt?"

Draco decided to ignore his friend completely and stormed out of the room, down the hall, and into the living room. So much sunlight compared to the dimly lit room from his dreams. No bottle of bourbon on the table. None of Granger's clothes scattered about the floor. It was nearly depressing as he grabbed up a bit of floo powder and stepped inside the floo, mumbling dully, "Ministry of Magic."

"These are simply impressive, Malfoy," Granger said, looking over his patent proposal for a new alchemy tool. Her hair, today, was tucked back in a ponytail, but there were still bits of curls that escaped the hold and fell down the sides of her cheeks. Draco had to force himself not to reach over the table and stroke them out of her face.

"Of course they are," he said in his most arrogant tone, sitting back in his chair to resist the urge to inhale her scent a moment longer. "Do you think the Ministry will give me the go-ahead?"

"It looks like you have all your ducks in a row," she said, nodding. Her eyebrows crinkled together, much like they had in his dream, and she swallowed a lump in her throat. Something was wrong. Draco had spent enough time in an office going over papers with Hermione Granger to recognize her distress signs. Carefully, he leaned his hands on the table near hers, but not touching.

"Er… you alright there, Granger? You look a bit... " Her eyes darted over to his, angry, and he said, a bit quieter, "Pale."

"I'm fine," she snapped, though an angry tear ran down her cheek.

"You don't look fine to me." He tried to put on his best, encouraging smirk. "Who's going to get hexed?"

A soft smile, reluctantly, broke out across her lips, and she sighed, setting his patents down. Her hand rested ever so close to his, now. "It's unprofessional to discuss my personal life."

"I asked," he said, raising an eyebrow as a challenge. "It would be unprofessional to sit there with tears in your eyes and not divulge."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how professionalism works," she chided, sighing again. They sat in silence for a time, until, finally, she said, "I'm just having a bit of trouble at home. Nothing that has to do with you or your patents. So, maybe, we should get back to it, hmm?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger. Just spill it. Or I'll tell your supervisor you were a puddle of tears in this meeting."

"I'm not a bundle of tears!" She glared, but it looked as if she might actually turn into a puddle of tears. "Oh, fine, Malfoy. Have it your way. You're only going to make fun of me." She drew her arms up around herself and sighed. "Ron and I… we've decided to take a break."

Draco's heart leapt in his chest. Carefully, he asked, "A break?"

"Yes." Her eyes met his, before she looked back down at her hands. "Well, go on. I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For the quips. The insults. The degradations and told you so's." She wiped furiously at her cheeks as a tear fell down. Draco Malfoy sat, stoic, afraid to move. His heart felt as if it might explode- he'd dreamed this, hadn't he? Did he have some unearthly power unbenounced to him that predicted break ups? Ha. Yeah right.

Carefully, he decided, against his better judgement, to move his hand towards hers. He watched her watch his hand as it dragged across the table, and, finally, folded over her own. "Frankly, Hermione, if we're being completely honest with each other, you're too good for Weasley. I'm surprised you didn't dump him sooner."

She stared down at his hand for some time before dragging her eyes up to his. "You called me Hermione."

"I did."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Seemed right."

A blush crawled up her cheeks. "Erm… th-thank you. For not making fun of me."

"We're not children anymore," he scolded, rolling his eyes. He made to move his hand away, but her fingers came up, folding over his own and gave them a light squeeze.

"I mean it," she whispered. "I know we don't talk much, aside from these business arrangements, but… it's nice of you not to be cruel."

Draco removed his hand and smirked, his confidence soaring. "Not a problem."

He watched her gather up her briefings and slide his paperwork into her briefcase. "I can send these down to my administrator this afternoon. You should have your patents approved by morning tomorrow." She smiled, stood, and started towards the door.

Draco took his chance. "Granger?"

"Hmm?" she stopped at the door, hand poised to turn the handle as she glanced over her shoulder.

"If you're feeling up to it, and don't want to be alone… maybe we could grab drinks sometime." He tried to control his tone as he added, "I have no issue hearing all about Weasley's depravities in great details."

He watched her smile back at him, her eyes softening. She chewed on her lower lip, thinking. "Yeah, Malfoy. That sounds… like fun. Friday night?"

Draco Malfoy nearly fistpumped into the air, but settled on a smirk instead. "Yeah, I think I can pencil that in."

Ahahaha! Tricked you! ALSO explains why Hermione would let him call her mudblood.
Please leave a review and favorite if you loved! This is a one-shot. But. I might have lied. This fic stands alone, but... if you'd like to know what happens next, please check out my work in progress, 3 part story: The Closet Relativity Theory. It MIGHT just be an unofficial continuation...
~A.