Wild Watermelon

Author's Note: This is in response to a challenge over at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum. The prompt was to create a story based on a Crayola color, and I picked Wild Watermelon. Hope you enjoy!

oOoO

It was unseasonably warm for May. It had been all week, and Draco Malfoy had begun to wonder if it was turning him mad. That had to be it. Truly, there was no other way to explain the fact that he had been staring at Hermione Granger across the Great Hall for the past twenty minutes, sporting a rather uncomfortable erection that prevented him from leaving. It had to be the heat – or maybe it was the watermelon that the Head Girl was devouring so voraciously.

He cleared his throat. Licked his lips. Watched as pale pink juice dripped down Hermione's wrist, trailing down her forearm. Watched as her tongue snaked out to catch it, licking it off in one long swipe, punctuating it with a sucking kiss to her palm where some had collected. She took another bite, her eyes fluttering closed. He took a large gulp of water from his glass. She moaned. He almost choked.

"Fuck," he shouted, slamming the glass down on the table almost hard enough to break it.

"You alright, mate," Blaise asked, moving Draco's glass away from him, lest his friend decide to have another go at smashing it into the table. Draco nearly growled.

"No, Blaise," he hissed, "I'm not alright at all. I'm fucking going mental!"

oOoO

No. Put it back, Granger. Draco nearly banged his head against the table as Hermione took her time, delicately unpeeling a banana. The heat had lingered on through the weekend and now, on a bright Sunday morning, Draco watched again as Hermione had her breakfast. Things had been going well – she had started with toast, which was decidedly unsexy – but then she reached for what had to be the largest banana in the bunch and tore it away with a firm grip. A grip Draco was imagining around his –

Goddammit.

Hermione took an almost curiously large bite of the banana, her left check bulging lewdly. She closed her eyes, chewing thoughtfully. Draco was gripping the edge of the wooden table, white knuckled.

"Mate," Blaise started carefully, "I really think you ought to go to the hospital wing. The vein in your temple is doing that thing it does-" he tapped his finger to his own temple "and it's a bit scary." Draco tore his eyes away from the brunette and dropped his head into his hands.

"Blaise, something is very, very wrong with me. But I don't think I'm ill."

oOoO

"May I help you," Hermione drawled, not bothering to glance up from the book she was studying. Draco cleared his throat nervously and immediately regret his decision to approach her. He'd been perfectly fine, focused even, writing his Potions essay in the library. Until she had decided to set up camp at the table in front of his and suck noisily on a sugar quill. He had done everything in his power to ignore her, refusing to even look up, until she took the quill a little too far into her mouth, triggering her gag reflex. He nearly lost it then, slamming down his own quill and stalking over to her table.

But now he was second-guessing his choice. What was he even going to say? 'Why, excuse me Granger, but I've been wanking myself raw to the mental image of you sucking my cock like that quill all week and unless you'd like to make the trade, I suggest you snap that thing in two before I make the decision for you'? No, never.

She cleared her throat impatiently, dog-earing the page of her book before finally looking up at him. "If you've come over here to insult me, Malfoy, please get it over with quickly so that I may get back to my reading."

"N-no, Granger," Draco stuttered, cursing himself. "You see, it's just that…" He trailed off, staring at his shoes, hating himself in this moment. He'd never had a problem talking to a girl before. In fact, he was usually a little too good at it, leading to many broken hearts – none of them his own. Yet here he was, completely humbled by the curly haired witch in front of him.

"Well, Malfoy, spit it out," Hermione said impatiently, slamming the cover of her book closed.

"You're driving me crazy," he exhaled, and she rolled her eyes. "Not in the usual ways," he hurried on, placing both hands on the table across from her, his head hanging in defeat. "Granger, I can't eat. I can't sleep. I am absolutely losing the plot. All because you decided to have watermelon at lunch the other day."

Hermione blinked at Draco, her brow furrowing. "I'm sorry," she began slowly, as if she were talking to a true nutter, "but I'm not quite sure I understand. If you have a problem with watermelon- "

"No," his hiss cut her off, "It's not just the watermelon, Granger. It's the banana, it's the quill. It's every goddamn thing I have to watch you put in your beautiful mouth, oblivious to the fact that I'm across the room panting like a fucking dog for you."

Her lips had been parted to speak but she was frozen.

Draco was angry, but more so he was confused. If he were being honest, he'd long gotten over the issue of her blood purity, and would even go so far as to say that sometime around fifth-year she'd begun to grow into her looks. But her personality he found reprehensible, her school habits more than annoying and her choice in company embarrassingly misguided. Those were the reasons he'd never considered her before, those were the reasons why –

"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat. "If you're through with your internal battle, I'd love to have a word."

He felt the tips of his ears going red and he looked up, an inch or so short of actually making eye contact.

"I thought you'd never notice," Hermione breathed with a laugh. "I'd been trying for ages to get your attention – Merlin, I was beginning to wonder if you were gay, not that that would be a problem, well, not for you, but perhaps for me – "

Draco held his hand out, stopping her. His brain hurt.

"Let me get this straight," he drawled, "you purposely ate those things in such a manner as to arouse me in a public place?" Was this some sort of evil plan at revenge? If so, it was kind of working, and he was thoroughly embarrassed. He felt his temperature rising, and now he was angrier, angry that he had been used in such a way.

"Yes, you idiot." Hermione rubbed at her temples. "But not as some sort of weird sexual revenge plot. More of a weird sexual plot, period." It was her turn for embarrassment and her cheeks flushed prettily.

"You," he pointed at her, "Me," he pointed to himself, "Sexual?"

Hermione sighed, pushing her chair away from the table. "I'm really beginning to wonder if you're a Neanderthal. Yes, you, and yes, me, and yes, sexual. Christ, Draco, I've been distracted by your mouth for the past nine months! Reciting potions ingredients, saying incantations, even smirking at me when I answer something wrong! I've been going mad, too, thinking about it, and about you, and about what exactly those perfect lips and harsh tongue are capable of."

She was breathing heavily but you could tell her words had caught up to her, and her cheeks only reddened further. Had she really just said all of that, aloud? Draco hardly missed a beat.

"Push your chair a little further back," he said with a nod in her direction, "and I'll show you exactly what they're capable of."

Surprisingly, she put up no argument, the toes of her regulation Mary-Janes pushing against the floor to scoot her chair further from the table. Hermione sat, her palms face down on her thighs and avoided making eye contact.

"Tut, tut, Granger." His smirk was back. "Mere moments ago, you had all the confidence in the world, when you were deep throating a candy quill in the corner of the library. Now, dare I say it, you seem a little shy." Hermione shuddered under his heavy gaze.

"Lift your skirt, pet," his voice came out as barely more than a whisper, "All the way to your hips, please." She complied in a way he only dreamt of, and his pants grew tighter with every inch of thigh that was exposed. Slowly, slowly, she was exposed, all of her, bare to his view. Draco's eyes grew wide, and his mouth went dry.

"No panties, Granger?" She nodded, smiling coyly.

"Just in case," she said with a shrug, finally meeting his gaze, "If the quill didn't work, I thought I may have to take things to the next level." He groaned, adjusting himself, rubbing the flat of his palm against the placket of his trousers to relieve some of the tension. Hermione wet her lips at the sight.

"Another time, pet" Draco said with a shake of his head. "Now spread your legs for me." He knelt down in front of her, close enough that he could smell the faint muskiness of her arousal. His mouth watered. "Hold your skirt at your waist. Keep your hands there. If you move them, I'll stop." She nodded, again.

Draco leant in, his tongue tracing the length of her slit. He gathered her moisture with his tongue, pushing it up towards her clit, circling it lazily. Hermione bit down on her lip, hard, to keep from making any noise. His tongue increased in pace, alternating between wide circles with the flat of his tongue and hard flicks with its tip. Whenever she began to tremble, he'd move further south, pushing his tongue into her relentlessly. She was writhing in the chair, her hands bunched tightly in her skirt, her legs thrown over his shoulders as he ate her.

Draco reached around, gripping her bum and sliding her to the edge of the chair, angling her so that her legs were spread even higher and wider. He attacked her clit with his tongue, plunging one finger, then two, into her heat. He curled them – come here – as her mouth opened in a noiseless scream. The only sound was her wetness, which had become most vulgar as he thrust his fingers into her, in a way that made him wonder –

His question was answered as she orgasmed, and a quick stream of liquid hit his mouth and chin. He sucked her hard, then, and she finally removed her hands from her skirt to push him away.

"Too much," she said breathlessly, her legs falling from his shoulders. Draco sat back on his haunches, grinning like that cat that got the cream.

"Well, Granger, I was wrong," Draco said, reaching out to tug her skirt down, his hand coming to rest on his knee.

"Hm, Malfoy?" Hermione moved her hand to rest over his, their fingers twining together. "And what were you so wrong about?" His smile only deepened.

"That watermelon was hardly the juiciest thing Hogwarts has ever seen."