Beebee. EPIC WIN PROMPT.

WARNING: language, foodplay (it's weird, I know)

Impress Her with a Face Made Out of Potato

Her mother had impressed upon her rigid social guidelines ever since she was a little girl. She knew what fork to use first, how to eat soup without making a single noise, how to smile without showing her teeth in case there was something caught in them; she knew it all. She had the manners of a Pureblood in the body of a Muggleborn.

Most importantly, Hermione always followed the Golden Rule of Eating: Never play with your food. It was disgraceful, and it made people be ashamed to eat with you in public. She secretly suspected that this was why she and Ronald would never be right together (as he smiled unsuspectingly at her with his mouth full of bangers and mash).

But this, this was altogether unexpected. Her mother had never taught her what to do when the food starts playing with you.

*

She had been sitting innocently at the table, delicately tasting her toast and simultaneously glaring at Ron's horrendous manners, when she felt something nudge her legs apart.

One never caused a scene at mealtime, so she leisurely and discretely looked downward.

She promptly gasped, albeit quietly. Complacently resting in between her thighs, was a… potato face?

It was a potato cake, perfectly golden and most likely delicious, that someone had put coconut on for hair, with dark jam eyes, and a little smirk that looked to be made of marshmallow topping.

Now that she thought about that combination of flavors, it was probably disgusting.

But the oral palpability was not the fact concerning her. What worried her was that the face was an exact replica of someone else's in the room.

Malfoy's.

She slowly lifted her head, and casually looked out across the Hall. Yes, there he was, smirking at her in the exact way the damned potato cake was. He even tilted his head so that it matched the angle of the face sitting in between her legs.

Once he had caught her eye, he grinned, and motioned with his wand. She quirked an eyebrow, and he muttered a spell, but of course she couldn't make it out.

All she knew was that she suddenly went rigid.

"Hermione, are you feeling alright?" Ginny asked concernedly. "You don't look too good."

She tightly smiled. "I'm feeling perfectly well, Ginervra. I just remembered something that I forgot to do."

Looking a little hurt at the use of her full name, Ginny turned back to her conversation with Lavender.

Hermione sat fully upright, with her fists clenched at her sides. One must not make a scene at the breakfast table, she told herself over and over. I'll simply get up, and walk away quietly.

She positioned her feet on the ground to swing her legs over the bench, and made the mistake of looking back at Malfoy. Quickly he flicked his wand, and she was frozen in place.

Oh, fuck. This wouldn't end well.

She was temporarily stuck to a bench in the midst of all her peers, and a face made out of potato was eating her out under the table.

*

It was dirty. She knew that. It was unsanitary. She recognized that.

But it was good (and a small voice in the back of her head said she was a naughty, naughty girl).

She didn't dare look down again, for then other people would follow her lead, and then there would be an uproar. Instead she locked gazes with Malfoy, whose seemingly careless wand motions instigated the sensations she felt below the waist.

The pressure increased, and the tongue movement (She assumed it was a tongue; most likely made of a strip of bacon. Or a sausage. She shivered.) quickened. She tried to press her thighs together, but she couldn't, what with being stuck to the bench.

Panting slightly, she stared at Malfoy, whose smirk was gone, and replaced with darkened lusty eyes. He clearly mouthed, Come for me.

And oh Merlin, did she come.

For five minutes, the aftershocks still quaked her body. Once she felt she was somewhat in control of herself, she shakily pushed away from the table, and walked unsteadily out of the Great Hall.

She stumbled into the nearest alcove, and rested her head against the cool stone wall.

Strong arms appeared and wrapped themselves around her waist. A husky voice rumbled in her ear, "That was hotter than I expected."

She weakly laughed. "Draco, how could you? At breakfast? In front of everyone?"

He chuckled, and nuzzled the back of her neck. "I do recall last week I was in the same compromising position in the middle of Charms class."

She blushed, and tried to protest, but he cut her off. "Not that I minded, of course. Just think of it as payback."

As he turned her around and hungrily kissed her, her mind whirred dangerously.

You didn't give payback to a Gryffindor without expecting retaliation.

FIN.

A/N: Ew, het. :] Alright, I found this in the recesses of my laptop, and I'm basically posting this for you, Megan (CoMiCalMe).

BUT THIS IS THE LAST DRAMIONE I WILL EVER POST. POSSIBLY. :]