#v : durmstrang verse / triwizard trials

[mallfoii]

She was so preoccupied with making sure that the marks he had, or what could be seen of them, on his neck and collarbone were alright, no longer bleeding. That she hadn’t realized they were completely alone, and there was nothing else to be around but the one and only, Harry Potter. Who now sat awkwardly on the other side of the hospital wing, legs almost danging off the bed, knuckles bruised and gripping the bed frame. He wasn’t sure why he did it.

LIE

He knew why, but still, he needed to make the story more believable when his father asked, or even Karkaroff. No matter how he turned it, he had inadvertently helped Potter when a number of his fellow Durmstrang students decided to play a rather deadly prank on him, increasing Draco’s chances of course. Luckily for him, they had no idea who had helped Potter, but having helped Potter to the hospital wing, it was obvious.

“ Just make sure that he doesn’t mention that I’ve helped him. Where I’m from, who I’m from, that would be seen as a weakness. I’d probably be confined to the ship for the rest of the tournament. And if you haven’t realized, your little friend over there is both confused and angry that you’ve been touching me rather freely over here. Continue any longer and I might show him just how much I like to touch back. But I guess you might not like the audience for our more private moments. And I’d agree…mostly. ” Not being able to help himself, he leaned into her touch, his eyes flashing towards Potter for just a second before they were on her again.

mugglebrn asked: [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got / MEME - accepting!

[mallfoii]

“Oh, I had no choice in the matter,” he replies, picking up one of the cakes from the table and taking a bite. Peach filling—he’s not sure how he feels about it. Chewing thoughtfully, Draco takes a few moments before continuing.

“Hogwarts was deemed far too soft in its teachings, and my father had some choice words about its current administration and headmaster.” He remembers the plan clearly, though his parents—well, his father—had ultimately decided that Durmstrang would be a far better option for the Malfoy heir.

“Astronomy Tower—during the day.” He repeats the words with a small smile, understanding what she’s hinting at. It’s amusing that she thinks that’s his goal, though he isn’t surprised. She will be, Draco muses, considering just how seriously he’s approaching his courting and what it truly means to him. He’s probably far more old-fashioned than most of the boys around her, a thought he quickly pushes aside.

“Ah, the charms, of course.” He explains them in detail—the protection spells already embedded in the locket. One acts as a shield against minor hexes, though it wouldn’t hold against stronger magic. Another charm ensures the locket moves toward an exit if she ever gets lost, while a third can heal minor injuries.

Then there’s the connection to his ring. If she holds the small golden moon on the locket and thinks of him, his ring will grow warmer, and vice versa. While the jewelry doesn’t allow them to send messages, it does provide one critical function: a signal if they can’t make it to a meeting. Tapping the locket three times would make its twin grow cold.

But Draco keeps one detail to himself—the locket’s final ability. He can always use it to find her location if necessary, though he sees no need to mention that.

“It’s getting late, unfortunately,” he says with a hint of regret. “Since you’re far better versed in secret passageways, let me walk you to your common room. We can meet again the day after tomorrow.”

"APPARENTLY SO. I DON'T THINK I'VE EVER SEEN QUITE SO MUCH FUSS AROUND A VISITING STUDENT," the way the Slytherin's had flocked around him was like he was being welcomed home, everybody eager to impress, desperate to get in his good graces. It wasn't until after she had seen it that she had done her research into the Malfoy name and discovered how much power and influence they had over Wizarding Britain. And she has a feeling that's only the half of it. After all, wasn't most control exerted behind closed doors?

"Is that why you chose to go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts? To get some distance from your parents?" Although at the tender age when first entering school, she wonders how much influence he'd had over the decision. Even as she asks, she realises it's far more likely his parents had made the decision for him.

Curiosity blooms within her as he pulls out this little box and pushes it in her direction, trying not to seem too interested as she opens it up - she is still trying (and steadily failing) to hold him at arm's length after all. "Dinner, jewellery, and the promise of exclusive libraries? You really do play to win, don't you?" It's simple, but beautiful. Hardly anything to draw attention or make obvious it was a gift from a boy who shouldn't be giving her gifts. Hermione looks upon it in a quiet sort of appreciation, her index finger tracing the shape of the moon.

"How about the astronomy tower?" it felt fitting, given the design of the pendant. "Obviously it's in use in the evenings, but during the day it's off limits. I just happen to know a secret way up there," courtesy of the Marauder's Map. "It should do well enough, especially considering I don't expect there to be any midnight meetings," her tone is pointed, letting him know that the grovelling thus far had not been enough to allow him those kinds of privileges.

"What kinds of charms have you put on it?" she asks, her curiosity so clearly burning, wondering what he's come up with and how they compare to her own musings, inspired by muggle instant messaging technologies.

[mallfoii]

It might be too soon, but he had already decided, his mind is set. As she talks about not having a solid plan, and her ties to the wizarding world not as strong as some of her friends, he can’t help but realize that he had never really thought about that. How it was with muggles that entered their world, no knowledge of it for the first eleven years, and then you get to see all the beauty that comes with being a witch or a wizard. But you still have each foot in the two very different worlds. That just makes it more obvious to him that they should live together. And even if they take a place in the muggle part of London, they are only a floo away from anywhere they want to go.

“ You think? I would like you to be more certain Granger. ” Draco smiles, being playful, more so than anything else. “ We still have time to talk about it and make our decision. But I can’t go back home…” For obvious reasons, he wants to add but knows he doesn’t need to. “ It’s time I get a bit more freedom from all these expectations. When they come around to it, I’ll work with Father, but I don’t think that will be anytime soon. So, thanks to you, I have a chance now to have a life I never thought I’d have. One where I make my own decisions. But I want to do that with you, together. ”

He kisses her again, unhurried, unrushed, slow and sweet. “ But, our weekend is going to be here in a few days. Isn’t it more important that you tell me what you’re going to wear? I know you might not want me to buy you clothes or jewelry, but I enjoy that. I’d enjoy you wearing what I bought you…so will you please let me do that for you? Take pity on me, I am at your mercy. ” Pulling her so that she’s almost on top of him, one hand splayed across her lower back, the other tracing her collarbone that he could see from where her shirt had shifted.

continued from here with @mugglebrn

[mallfoii]

It was a fool’s errand to expect Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, to give up. In her letters, her father was always mentioned,  but the man himself never wrote him. By the time they had found a flat for themselves in Knightsbridge, in the middle side of London. Lucius had decided that it would be best to take other actions. Draco had counted on this reaction, but somehow it still stung, and his mother’s letters were hardly better. They had met with her once, and he had, as was told to him in a letter later, made a horrible scene. Even though, the horrible scene in question was him defending his future wife. “ It’s about the commission? ”

His own letter abandoned, Draco prided the crumbled piece of paper from her hand, eyes moving across the stipulations, better yet, orders given to her, and any other muggle-born in Britain. It wasn’t something he could blame solely on his family, the sacred twenty-eight were determined to cleanse Britain and the wizarding community from those less worthy. However they had decided to frame this, it couldn’t be seen as anything more than, the bigoted desire to expunge anyone that can’t prove their ties to a pureblood family.

“ It’s alright, they won’t be able to win this. There are too many people against this, too many…” He didn’t fully believe his own words, but he moved to sit closer to her, one hand around her shoulder, the other hand over hers, where she kept it on the small bump on her stomach.

“I’d rather leave England than allow them this sham of an investigation. And when the Malfoy name has no heir, they can do their best to…” Pressing his lips against her hair, Draco pulled her to his side. Angry and afraid for her, for them. But determined nonetheless. They had known something like this would happen, it wasn’t really a surprise, but still, it was going to be a hard uphill battle going forward.

continued from here with @mugglebrn !

[mallfoii]

He kisses her hair but says nothing, knowing that he can’t stay long and that someone would have noticed by now that he was gone. It doesn’t matter, it’s not like he won’t be able to figure out an excuse for his absence. A snog in an alcove somewhere. But he holds her tight until he realizes that her breathing has slowed and she has slipped into a deep sleep, mostly thanks to the potions that she was given to drink and recuperate.

Draco doesn’t leave instantly, even though he should. It’s always hard not being by her side, and the more she allows him into her life, the greedier he gets. At some point, he will have all of her attention, all of her time, all of her. But he has to be one thing that he finds impossible - patient. So slowly he moves her to the side and slides his body around her until he’s out of bed. Tucks her in and kisses her cheek, spending a few more minutes watching how peaceful she looks before he leaves the hospital wing - reluctantly.

The party is in full swing and luckily for him, everyone is sloshed enough that they just slur their greetings and offer him drinks, which he takes gratefully, happy to dull the disappointment of not being there for Hermione. So he spends his night necking drink after drink before he finds an empty bed to sleep in at some point early in the morning. When he wakes up it’s after breakfast, and she must have left for her own dorm.

Draco wraps his coat and goes back to the ship, to sleep the day off and survive the massive hangover. But he does take the time to write her a small letter that he sends off via owl, wanting to meet her tomorrow in the library, their usual spot. And the easiest place for her to make an excuse and spend hours in. Even if she’s just studying or writing an essay, he likes sitting by her side and keeping her company. So he lays in his bed, and thinking of the way she smells and how nice it feels when he wraps his arms around her, Draco succumbs to yet another bout of slumber.

"LUCKY FOR US. I DON'T THINK I WOULD HAVE LIKED WAKING UP WITHOUT YOU HERE," she can blame her overly sappy honesty on whatever potions she's been dosed with. The same ones that have left the edges of her vision slightly blurred, her mind drowsy. Though she'd only just woken, Hermione feels like she could easily sleep another twelve hours.

The bed creaks under their combined weight and the shuffling around to get into a comfortable position for the both of them. Once they find it, Hermione pulls the crisp, white blanket up over them to ward off against the chill that seemed to perpetually linger in the air this time of year. He's warm like a furnace against her back and she lets out a contented sigh.

"I wish you could stay," her hand catches his, lacing their fingers together, twisting his signet ring around in revolutions, tracing the 'M', toying with it as they settle into a comfortable silence. The kind where it's just their unified breathing. After a while she feels herself fading, feels the edges of her world creep in as sleep threatens. It makes her grip onto his hand tighter, knowing that he'd leave while she was sleeping and she would wake again, alone this time, that he had no choice.

[mallfoii]

“ You underestimate the power of the Malfoy name. ” There is a brief glimpse into the usual cocky facade that he shows everyone else before he tosses it aside. Even though he might be able to get her into Durmstrang - Draco would never do that to her. He had seen firsthand how the few half-bloods are treated, and they would be far too antagonizing - worse than what she had to suffer through due to the Slytherins. “ I can imagine that your parents might not understand everything - if anything we have that in common. I don’t tell my parents most things - especially the important ones. ” He gives her a significant look.

Regardless of what his family wanted him to be, Draco had always wanted to be a person for himself. Again he thinks that going to Hogwarts could have made the whole experience different - made him be different. He might have been far worse than any other bully she had - probably would have been. But in Durmstrang - it was far too grueling, that he had no other choice but to become stronger. While his family’s name holds immense power, it still wouldn’t have carried as much weight as it would have if he were in Slytherin. “ Luckily there are other libraries, a lot friendlier ones, that I can show you. ”

He shouldn’t make promises, but he can’t help himself. Now that it was just the two of them, he was trying to make the best out of the time that he had. Give her the best impression, so that after tonight - when she wakes up in the morning, she can’t change her mind. Parly he was trying to convince himself as well, knowing what will mean if he carries on with what he wants to do. That eventually, he won’t be able to keep it secret. But he shouldn’t think of that now, but take advantage of them having some time together.

“ I was thinking of a way we could meet. We should have a place where we can both sneak off to. It would be impossible to keep a strict schedule and meet each time on the dot, so I improvised somewhat. ” Going through the pockets of his coat, he takes out a small golden box and places it on the table between them. “ That way we can know when the other can or wants to meet. ” Inside there was a small golden necklace with a pendant in the shape of a moon. He wore its twin, a narrow golden band on his finger. “ What do you think? You might have a better idea obviously. ”

"NOT THE MAJORITY OF THEM. AND THE ONES THAT DO DON'T GO AROUND CALLING ME A MUDBLOOD LIKE THE SLYTHERIN ONES," mostly for the sake of not being ostracised from the rest of the house population. Sure, blood prejudice wasn't nearly what it was in Slytherin, but it was there, ever present. Although maybe only something that you'd notice if you were paying close attention... or if it affected you directly. The way it so insidiously infected this world really wasn't too different from the way she was treated in the muggle world for her skin colour. There were the loud minority, and then there were the silent majority, making their feelings known in little comments and microaggressions.

You're pretty smart for a muggleborn. You're so good at charms, sometimes I forget you're a muggleborn.

Sometimes it still took her by surprised. She'd be having a casual conversation with somebody she had known peripherally for years, and they would suddenly say something, and she'd just know, in her heart, that they thought they were better than her.

Hermione shrugs. "They never did find out, but the popular theory is the same as every other crazy thing that's happened here in the past few years. Some old follower of Voldemort's that's trying to pick up where he left off when he died all those years ago," the dark wizard himself may have died when they were just babies, but the ideologies and hate he peddled still lingers. "They keep trying to get through Hogwarts to get to Harry," and even though a culprit had never been found, it made sense that the troll was simply the first incident.

"I never told my parents about it, you know," Hermione confesses. "Honestly, I don't really tell them about anything that happens here. If they knew the half of it, they would have pulled me out of school. And, you know..." this is her home. As much as London is. Hermione couldn't go back to how it was before she had entered this world, it would be like tearing off a limb. No. Something more integral to her. A vital organ, maybe. Like tearing out her heart. And it wasn't just the incidents. Most of the things that went on in this world they wouldn't understand, and she was desperately trying to keep the chasm growing between them as small as possible. She's not ready to fade away from her muggle life, even as she readies herself to graduate and establish her adult life in the wizarding one.

"I'll hold you to that," she smiles when he speaks of trust. Cross as she had been at him, as hurt as she was, it was hard to remain that way when he was being so transparent and sincere.

Brows arch and she has to admit that she's beyond interested. Always absolutely fascinated with other magical schools and how they might differ from Hogwarts, ready to chew anybody's ear off about it who would listen (she had been lucky enough to find a Beauxbatons student who was almost as enthusiastic about school curriculums as she is). Durmstrang had been different though. Interested? Yes. Incredibly so. But it's also almost a sort of protection to herself not to enquire too far into the school who would have rejected her based on blood status alone. "I think we'd have a greater chance of hell freezing over than of Durmstrang opening its doors to muggleborns - even just to visit the library."

[mallfoii]

She is always beautiful, but now dressed in something that he had picked up, makes him salivate. “ You can wear it on any of our dates, but also you can wear it so that I get to enjoy taking it off later. ” The older woman that had helped with the selection of dresses and other items of clothing was at the front of the store and would not be able to see either of them unless she came back to where the two of them were, and she wouldn’t unless he called for her.

Getting up from his seat, Draco moves towards her, eyes roaming down her body, unsure where he wants to look more. Was it the exposed skin of her shoulders, or the way the dress hugged her waist and emphasized he curves? It was all too tempting, and he wondered how he would manage to do much else other than want to wrap himself around her.

“ You look…bewitching. Good enough to eat. ”

Stopping behind her, so that both of them could be turned towards the full-length mirror that was positioned so that the person trying out clothes could see just how the clothes looked on them. It was an image that he would not forget anytime soon. He moved his hands down the sides of her waist before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her flush against him. His eyes moved from the delicious way her cleavage looked, to the mirror, so he could watch himself touch her, and see her reaction.

His other hand moved down over her hip, down her leg until he reached her knee almost before he started gathering the silky fabric in his hand and pulling it up. The more he pulled, the more of her was visible, smooth toned legs revealed and then her underwear, he cupped her then, letting his hand stay, unmoving over her, and over the thin fabric of her knickers. Draco moved one finger over where her slit was, up and down, unhurried, slowly, just a bit of pressure.

" Waiting until we get back to the hotel, I’m not sure I can do that, can you? But maybe… ” Leaning to kiss her ear. “ you could stay quiet, so no one hears us, you wouldn’t want anyone to check what we are doing. We’re in a bit of a compromising position, aren’t we? ”

IN OUR BED.

The notion is enough to make her skin warm and her head duck, hiding a smile. Truthfully, she's been flailing wildly between vibrating with anticipation for tonight and feeling nauseous with nerves. Which her logical side reminds her is entirely silly - they've been intimate plenty of times, how different could sex really be? All week she'd been prepping the best way she knew how. With research. And while Hogwarts was severely lacking in any form of sexual education books and racy works of fiction (prudes, the entire population), she had no shortage of whimsical romance novels to dredge out of the chest they were shrunken down into, reading all the spiciest paragraphs she could find.

If there's one thing about Hermione Granger, it's that she's turning up prepared.

And while her first time was occupying a good portion of her mental capacity, she's also hyper-aware that this would be the first time they're truly alone. The first time they'll share a bed and spend the night. The first of many she hopes. Draco looks at her, catching her quiet contemplation and she grins blissfully at him, fingers squeezing around his before she returns to the present and begins pointing all sorts of muggle things out to him.

The bookstore goes about as expected. Hermione could get lost between the towering shelves of books, feeling that the whole world is open to her, she only needs find it through the millions of words sat before her, waiting to be read. There's eleven books in his arms (and one in her hand) before he manages to convince her to move onto the next place.

And though he had been nearly as comfortable as her around the books, it's at the clothing store that he shines in ways that she does not. Expertly picking out clothing she'd never look at twice. "I feel like a doll, Draco," she complains, but it's light and there's a smile on her face. This is for him, he likes buying her things, and so she lets him.

And she has to admit the dress is gorgeous, the kind of green that brings out the warmth in her skin, golden brown undertones pushed to the surface. The richness of it accentuated. The back is low enough that she decides she needs to forego a bra, and though it's not particularly revealing, it is tight and more risque than anything she's used to wearing. Smoothing her hands down over the slippery satin, Hermione steps out of the change rooms, trying to exude confidence as she waits for his reaction.

"I've not got a single clue where I would ever wear a dress like this," she very rarely did anything fancy enough to get her out of her jeans and jumpers. The Yule Ball was the only exception, and they were mere months away from leaving school behind forever.

[mallfoii]

“ Not the same, I mean yes of course you have purebloods in your house too, along with the others. But I’m sure you’ve realized that it is different. I mean, the purebloods in your house don’t really have an issue with your blood status, do they? ” Not all purebloods went to Slytherin, but those that were accepted in that house lived under different rules, outdated rules sure, but different rules nonetheless. At the mention of the Weasley boy who was always around, Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes before focusing back on her. She seemed to have a lot of boys around, those that appeared to be very close.

Usually, he wouldn’t have been jealous, but with her, it would seem he was discovering a whole other side to himself, a much more possessive side, a side that he should probably not fully show, she might not like that part of him. As she talks, Draco starts leaning forward more, unable to keep his eyes off her. “ You were attacked by a troll? ” He asks the question almost wanting to laugh, not because he found it funny but absurd.

“ How did the troll get into the school? ” From what he had heard from other students here, the school was anything but safe. He hadn’t heard about the troll for some reason, but he had heard about the chamber of secrets and the basilisk. And then there were the dementors on school grounds when an escaped prisoner was tormenting the school. Weirdly enough, Durmstrang seemed to be a far better-equipped place to keep students safe, even though one would think that a school with Dumbledore would be a better option, it would seem not.

“ Well, I am grateful for them, and happy that you have them here with you. ” Regardless of his initial jealousy, it was obvious that they would keep her safe and he was almost grateful to them, not that he’d ever voice it. “ I hope one day, you could see me as someone that would help and keep you safe. I would very much like that, but I also know that you need to get to know me better so you can trust me to be that for you. And I will do my best to make you trust me Hermione. ”

Draco smiled before moving back into his chair. “ Aren’t you curious about what we learn in my school or the library we have? ” He jokes, knowing she would be delighted to see it for herself, which unfortunately, for now at least, would be impossible. “ Maybe one day we could visit together. ”

"PUREBLOODS DO EXIST IN OTHER HOUSES YOU KNOW," she smiles wryly. "Although, I don't think any of my friends had an upbringing quite like yours," a shrug. "Ron was homeschooled by his mum," and she was willing to put all the galleons she had on that being an experience far and wide from what Draco had been brought up with.

"It sounds exhausting," there's the twist of sympathy in the way her brows furrow, imagining a little blonde-haired boy who just wanted to ride his broom and muck about with his friends, but was instead forced to sit ramrod straight and take his tea perfectly. Some of her favourite memories of her childhood were of climbing trees, digging in dirt, and hiding away in bushes full of bugs and grubs while she read fantastical stories. A part of her mourns that he never got that. Hermione doesn't think twice about it as she reaches across the table, her hand on his crossed arms, giving a comforting squeeze.

"Not easily, that's for certain," her friendships may be as easy as breathing but they were hard earned. "I am not exactly everybody's cup of tea. Hard to believe, I know," she makes the self-deprecating joke with a roll of her eyes. "I wanted so badly to fit it when I first got here that I just tried way too hard. Everybody thought I was insufferable," and they weren't shy about her knowing it. "Neville was actually my first friend, but if I'm honest I think that's mostly because he was too shy and nervous just to tell me to bugger off."

"I, um, was upset one evening at dinner time. I'd overheard Ron say something nasty about me. Just some silly comment that a kid would say without any thought. But... it still stung," and sometimes, that comment still sits somewhere in the back of her mind, feeding into her worst insecurities. "Somehow a troll had made it into the school and found itself in the girl's bathroom where I was having my little pity party," a tiny twelve-year-old Hermione with her swollen eyes and blotchy face after an hour of solid crying. "I turned around after washing my face and there was this great big hulking creature. I'd never even seen a pygmy puff let alone a troll and I just... froze. All the students had been directed to evacuate but... Harry and Ron came to my rescue. By some stroke of luck none of us was crushed to death and the rest is history. We've been inseparable ever since," friends from that point on.

[mallfoii]

It’s a broken whine, or maybe a moan. It’s a noise he’s sure he had never made before, it sounds odd and otherworldy, like all the control he thought he had had been stripped from him, and he had been left there to be tossed and turned by whatever his body wanted. And his body was fully in accordance with her. Be inside her, fuck that perfect little cunt until it starts fluttering and squeezing him, and fill her up with him so she knows who she belongs to.

The extent of his obsession with her, every inch of her perfect body and mind, it would scare a normal person, it might even scare Hermione. But somehow Draco knows that she is as viciously obsessed as he is and that they feed off of each other. “ You’re perfect, so perfect. ” Draco pushes her off his leg and turns her so that she is facing forward before he pulls her back between his legs.

They can’t have sex now, unfortunately for him, the stitches would rupture and he really doesn’t want anyone else to see the way she looks when she’s stuffed with his cock. So he’s going to do the next best thing, and make sure that he comes and that she has something to fill that aching emptiness. He pulls her drenched knickers to the side roughly, enough for them to tear, but he doesn’t care, and moves his long fingers through her soaked folds, before ramming two of his fingers inside her. “ You want more? ”

Her back is pressed to his front, and he makes sure that her legs are open, resting on his, it’s a compromising position, and he desperately wants to see how she looks. “ Next time, I’m going to have you naked…” He moves his fingers inside, with his thumb pressing down on her clit. “ And you’ll be spread like this in front of a full-length mirror, so you can see me stretching that perfectly little cunt of yours, see yourself getting fucked, see how you look when I make you come. ”

Just imagining it is enough to make him want to finish in his pants like some thirteen-year-old, but he holds off. If Draco gets off on anything, is makes sure that he knows just what he is making her feel, that he is the only one that can talk to her like that, that can have her dripping for him like she currently is, flushed and wanton. A whore only for him. His. “ I’m going to make you come and then you’re going to drop to your knees and take me in your warm mouth, tell me! ”

THE LAST TIME HE TOLD HER TO USE HIM IN THIS ROOM FEELS LIKE A LIFETIME AGO. They'd been little more than strangers to each other, dancing around feelings they couldn't hope to tackle and laying on defences thick - him most of all. That's all slipped away now, and when he says it, it doesn't make her sad for him as it had the last time, because she knows he doesn't see this as transactional. Love isn't reliant upon status and money and blood purity. It transcends all of that. And there isn't a limit to what she would throw away for a moment with him.

Her nose nuzzles his cheek before it dips out of reach, and she resorts to pressing her lips to the top of his head, breathing in the sharp antiseptic of the infirmary and the familiar spice of his shampoo beneath - dulled by the surroundings, but never quite missing, the scent clinging like it's a part of him.

Nipples already hard and peaked, when he takes it into his mouth, she gives him what he wants and moans, uncaring about whether a silencing spell is up or not. His name is a gasp from her lips next and she grinds her hips down harder. Somehow being fully clothed only adds to the experience. By far and wide, she'd always prefer him bare, loving to luxuriate in the nakedness of his skin, knowing it's a sight for her and her alone. But this is the next best thing; the material of her skirt wet and clinging from his saliva, her knickers creased between the lips of her cunt as the rougher material of his trousers increases the friction. Ever the Gryffindor there's also the thrill of being caught. Spiking through her in a rush of adrenaline that fuels the oxytocin of sex.

Hermione nods, lips brushing against the pale strands of his hair, her moans and words only partially muffled by it. "Yours. I'm yours. I'll be so good," she's not good with words the way he is, always had been better at action, but she tries for him, letting instinct carry her. "It's not enough," it'd have to be for now, but she needs him to know that she wants more, craves it. "I want you inside. Filling me. Stretching me," her hips press at a slightly different angle that makes her gasp. She's so close to coming she feels as if she's on the verge of hysteria. "It's not enough. I need to come around your cock."

[mallfoii]

“ Of course I would, I’d do anything for you. ” And he means it wholeheartedly. Draco had made his decision months ago, she was his and he would be hers fully. And ever since he realized that there could not be any other way, he had made sure to make certain adjustments - plans. He would have to go against his family, but he knew them well and knew how to play their games. While they would think - he was sure - that this was some kind of foolish whim of youth, Draco knew the truth.

“ I promise you, you will be wide awake when I get you in our bed. ” With a quick peck, he tugs her along. Hermione points and talks, and he tries his best to follow along. Some things make sense, not so different from the magical world or cities, but other things are far more alien. The two of them find their way into a rather large bookstore, one that has two whole floors. Draco admits defeat and lets her move about, knowing that she would be lost to him for at least an hour or two, longer if he doesn’t drag her away.

So he goes around and picks a few books, some of the categories are interesting enough that he lingers for a while, but after some time he goes looking for her, taking the books that she was already carrying with her. So she looks, picks up books, puts them back down, and he is one step behind, the pile growing as he carries them. Finally, he managed to convince her that they could visit another bookstore before they go back to Hogwarts, and carries a rather heavy bag of books with them.

Their second stop was where he had decided to watch her shop. Here, he takes charge, picking out blouses, skirts, dresses, and even shoes. The changing room is filled with different things. “ All of these are your size, you don’t have to try them all, but I do want to see you in that dress. ” It’s a dark green one, dark enough that under weaker lights it almost seems black. A tight satin dress that falls just to her knees with a small slit to her upper thigh. Draco made himself comfortable - as much as he could - sitting down on the overly small chairs close to the changing rooms and leaning back, he wouldn’t move until he saw her in it.

EVERY DAY SHOULD BE LIKE THIS, SHE DECIDES. Every single one should be the two of them, spending it talking to each other, touching each other, in that intimate and casual way that couples do. No fear of passersby or what people might think. It makes sense with all the reasons that those in their world want to keep them apart, that the only place they can find this is here, among muggles.

Hermione tucks into his side as she divulges the details of what it had been like, to be thrust into a world that was so different from the one she had known. To leave everything she knew behind, every dream she had for herself in the muggle world, and start anew. She tells him about how nervous she had been, how starkly out of place she felt and how desperate she had been to prove herself worthy. She speaks of how those first months was spent in equal parts wanting to go home, and terrified that she would wake up only to find out it was all some fantastical dream.

Her head raises, preening under his praise, her chest filled with warmth. "You'd do that for me?" she asks, wide eyed and thick in the throat with emotion. The world of magic is all he's ever known. He's had a lifetime of being told that the one she had been raised in was dirty and horrible and beneath him, but here he is, willing and open to stand in it alongside her. She kisses him again, gratitude for him in the way her lips press to his.

The moment passes and she lets him pull her up, smoothing out the side of her hair that had been pressed against him. "Careful or I won't be able to keep my eyes open by the time we make it to the hotel," Hermione laughs, taking his hand once more as they continue on their walk, guiding him towards the street that houses a darling little bookstore her father had taken her to as a child when they'd ventured into the city centre on weekends.

[mallfoii]

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s flushed, body glued to his, eyes half-lidded and mouth open enough to let escaped moans as she moves up and down his thigh that is now firmly pressed against her cunt. What inhumane and cruel turn of events had he been cursed with, that she has her so warm and needy and can’t sink himself in her, wanting to feel just how much she wants him. But this will have to be enough, enough for tonight, enough to make him want to rip his hair out and wank after she leaves, unless he wants to rip the bed and the curtains to shreds. She looks so wanton and beautiful.

Perfect girl. She’ll be his, all of his, soon. “ Just like that. Good, use me. ” And he means it, she could ask him to do whatever she wanted now and he’d do it. Hermione Granger had no idea just how wrapped he was around her little finger, and maybe that was for the better. Draco moved one hand to her hip, simultaneously pushing his leg up and pushing her down, creating a delicious friction that might be enough for her to reach her peak.

“ I want to hear you, I want you to soak my trousers, fuck, you look divine. ” Without bothering to push her shirt up or off of her, Draco leaned down, making her arch, and pressed his lips against her breast, finding her nipple and sucking through the thin fabric. Having cast the spell so they would not be heard, made him all the more daring.

His whole body felt too hot, and he wanted to have his mouth everywhere, it was not enough, but it would have to be for now. Because of what he wanted to do to her, he would need room and a far sturdier bed or surface. “ You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you, aren’t you darling? You’re going to be so good to me, so full of me, tell me Hermione, tell me what you want me to do to you. ”

A STAMPEDE OF ERUMPENTS COULD COME CRASHING THROUGH THE INFIRMARY AND IT WOULDN'T MATTER. She wouldn't hear them. Wouldn't react a peep to it, because outside of him, everything melts away. The tiny logical part of her is grateful that he's taken on the task of keeping them quiet, because though she's not got the capacity to think of it now, she really would be rather mortified if Madam Pomfrey were to catch her disheveled and panting with her tongue down the throat of Durmstrang's champion.

What she isn't grateful for in that moment (because what little logic remains doesn't extend quite that far), is his commitment to her first time being somewhere romantic and special. Hermione grumbles, opening her mouth to protest, when his leg pushes firm between hers, pressing against her clit and causing her breath to catch in her throat, chocolate-hued eyes wide with surprise. And then he pulls her hips forward, guiding her to rock him forward. "Oh."

Oh, indeed. Sweet Circe, the things that he could do to her. Fully clothed without his mouth or fingers anywhere near where Hermione ached for him and she's feeling light-headed with arousal, finding an angle and pace that she likes, riding his thigh. She feels flushed in the face and wanton, catching her mouth with his once more, her tongue rolling against his, muffling another affirmation of her love for him.

[mallfoii]

Crossing his arms on the table, he sits on the edge of his seat, leaning forward as if he won’t be able to catch each of her words otherwise. What little information he has of the muggle world is, wholly insufficient to fully make it possible for him to visualize what all of it looks like. The school, where people lived. It wasn’t like he had ever been that interested in updating his knowledge, but now he realizes just how much of a glaringly obvious lack of understanding he has.

He might get a book later or tomorrow, something that they use for their muggle studies classes, definitely not something that would ever be taught at Durmstrang. Draco wants to reach out at the mention of this friend she had but decides against it, she might not appreciate it at the moment and he isn’t sure it would help.

“ I guess my education is the same as any pureblood that you might have met here, or maybe not. I guess you wouldn’t have friends in Slytherin. ” He chuckles before continuing.

“ Private tutoring mostly, not just about magic, but about…history, about manners. Dance lessons, etiquette lessons, flying lessons. It was all, well all except the flying lessons - completely dreadful. Even you would have hated it. It’s very constricting and does not really allow you to just play around. Even when we would have visitors, other kids. We had to constantly behave. Which, now looking back makes no sense, that you would expect five-year-olds to sit still and drink tea. Play pretend at being adults. ”

He was very familiar with the weight and sting of his father’s cane. “ You’ve obviously found friends here at Hogwarts, how did you get close to them? ” He couldn’t admit it to her now, but he was jealous of how effortlessly close she was with those around her, it was a kind of freedom that he had not tasted yet.

HERMIONE REACHES FOR HER GLASS OF BUTTERBEER, WATCHING THE WAY HE SEEMS TO BOUNCE OVER THE QUESTIONS HE WANTS TO ASK BEFORE SETTLING ON ONE. And she can honestly say that she's surprised when he asks so directly about the muggle world. Whatever hatred his parents had likely tried to instill in him about it had clearly waned, and while ignorance remained, it's clear that he wants to learn. She hopes it's not only for her sake. She doesn't want to be the exception to the rule, she wants him to be able to look past his taught prejudices even beyond her.

While considering what to tell him, she wets her lips with a sip of her beverage. "I went to West Hampstead Primary School," it feels almost strange to think of it now, her years before magic often feeling like some distant dream. "Muggle primary school in the UK goes for seven years, including reception," she sets down her glass, hands folded on the table in front of her. "Every day I wore a green and black uniform and either my mum or dad would drop me at school before they went on to the practice."

"I didn't have many friends. I was... different. And even if I never knew why, it was like most of the other kids could tell. They didn't... dislike me as such. We just, didn't get along all that well I suppose," even now she wasn't all that good at forming friendships, but once they were there, she was fiercely loyal. "I met my best friend Gemma the second day of reception. Some horrid little boy pushed her over in the playground and I pushed him back," she smiles at the memory, a fond one even if she had gotten a gentle lecture on using words and not violence from her parents. "We were inseparable after that," seven years of make believe and gushing over storybooks and swapping lunches.

"And then I found out about all of this," she gestures around them, referring to their world at large. "And I tried to keep in contact but... I don't know, I suppose how could I keep being her friend when I could never be honest with her? Eventually it was just easier to stop seeing her in the school holidays rather than lie about my fancy Scottish boarding school."

Hermione clears her throat, quickly reaching for the butterbeer again and taking a big gulp. She didn't like thinking about Gemma too often. She was too glaring of an example of how her two worlds could never converge no matter how much she had wanted them to.

"What about you? What kind of education did you have before Durmstrang?"

[mallfoii]

Naturally, as she sits turned towards him, so does he turn. And when Hermione starts talking about how she felt learning about her being a witch, that feeling of unfamiliarity or not belonging he moves closer, what little place there was between them disappearing as he wraps an arm around her, resting his hand on her waist, bending down to press his lips against the crown of her head.

It had never really occurred to him, how odd it must have been for a muggle-born to fully integrate themselves in their world. Sure, he felt out of place in muggle London, but he was certain that it was nothing like it had been for her. A child, in a world that was as magical as it was terrifying. And while he couldn’t undo what she had been through, he couldn’t help but want to shield her from anything else for the rest of their lives. And while that thought alone was enough to scare him, he was certain of it.

“ And even though you knew nothing of the wizarding world, you have conquered it, the brightest witch. My witch. ” A gentle kiss on the lips, a peck. Enough to convey at least some of what he felt for her, or so he hoped. “ We can learn together, about both these worlds, belonging to both, you and me. And of course, I know where to shop, do not doubt that I will always know the best places, and most expensive shops. A Malfoy always gets the best. ”

His tone was haughty, but he fully believed what he said. In that part he did not disagree with his family, he would always get what he wanted, and he would always want the best for himself. “ So books first, then you will try on some clothes and then we can have dinner. And tonight - we can have some drinks in our suite. ” Another peck to her nose, before he finishes his coffee and pulls her with him off the bench. There was too much to be done in the two days that they had, so there was no time to waste.

"I SUPPOSE YOU KIND OF JUST... GROW TO NOT NOTICE," even with all the time she had spent in the wizarding world, Hermione hadn't really realised how much louder the muggle one was. It had been solely her life for nearly twelve years, and even for the last six had remained a part of it. The London crowds and cars zipping through the streets, the billboard advertisements, and fluorescents of shopfronts. It felt so normal to her that she'd kind of forgotten how not normal it was to him. It was easy to forget their differences.

"You're playing dirty, you know I can't resist new books," a few joggers shuffle past them as they sit and a lady walking her cocker spaniel, but otherwise they've chosen a bench a little off the main path where not so many people ventured. "How is it you've not heard of coffee to go but you've heard of Harrod's?" he really is just so dreadfully posh sometimes. Hermione shifts around to face him, one leg tucked under the other.

That look is still on his face. The one that was caught somewhere between bewilderment, curiosity, and fear. A confusing feeling she's all too familiar with. "This is what it was like for me, you know. Only... I was eleven years old and suddenly this old woman turned up on my doorstep to tell me that a world I thought belonged only in story books was real and that I belonged there," it had felt like something out of one of the novels she read before bed, about young girls finding out there's so much more to them than they ever believed.

"I'd had bouts of accidentally magic of course, but when I made an effort to do the things I'd done by mistake nothing ever happened. I thought... for a bit... that maybe I was going a bit mad. Maybe I just was so tired of being different and not understanding why, that my mind made things up," she's never admitted that to anybody before. How frightened she had been of herself. Because either she was delusional, or she was different in a world that didn't always appreciate that.

It's why she gets bitter about it sometimes, the way that muggleborn children are ignored until they're of age to attend school. Eleven years of not understanding what was going on in your own body before somebody comes to thrust you into a foreign world with children your own age who are years ahead in what will be your life from that point on. "It was so strange, to finally find the place where I belonged and still feel like an outsider," she had to learn everything new. "Do you know I'd never even written with a quill and ink before Hogwarts? I'm fairly certain I spent hours every night practicing writing my name just so nobody would notice that I wasn't very good at it."

[mallfoii]

The bed creaks and he wants to burn it to the ground, one hand tapping around the bed until he reaches the nightstand and his wand, casting a Muffliato so that they are not yet discovered. And then he wraps himself around her, unsure what he wants to do first. Hands move over her body wanting to touch every single part, he pulls her to him, but they are already glued to each other, limbs intertwined as he pushes one leg between hers, his thigh moving up. He wants to hold her - wants to rip her clothes apart - wants to throw them to the floor where he could have more room - wants to carry her away somewhere nice and plush, romantic and sweet - wants to be inside her.

He groans as she whispers across his skin that she lives him again, each kiss to his face and neck burning. Their first time will not be in a hospital bed, with bandages wrapped around his middle. It won’t be on a rickety old bed, nor will they have to worry about anyone seeing them. He was sure if anyone peeked behind the curtains, he would flip her under him and cast whatever hex he could think of toward the intruder. mine mine mine Each breath seemed to say, each kiss, grab, caress. “ Hermione, darling. ”

He pushes his leg firmer between hers, feeling her heat even through layers of fabric. “ I’m going to make you come and then you have to leave. I will not have you here, not fully. Regardless of how much I want it. ” He tugs her hips forward so she slides up his leg, creating delicious friction. Desperate to hear her, to see her. Give her everything.

HER HEART BLOOMS AND HER FACE SPLITS INTO A SMILE SO WIDE HER CHEEKS HURT. He loves her. Just as she loves him. All the blood prejudice and unjustness of the world couldn't change that. Couldn't keep them a part. It's electrifying, the way she's never been more certain of her future than in that moment. He's her future. How could there have ever been any doubt about it? From the moment she laid eyes on him she should have known.

His mouth crashes against hers in a flurry of emotion, clinging to him, hands gripping at every inch of him that she could touch. Never wanting to let go. Months ago he had lied to her in this very room that he felt nothing for her, and now the truth tumbles out, both spoken and in the desperate way he kisses her.

Leg hitches up around his waist and she arches into him, her lungs burning and her lips raw but still she doesn't stop, wanting to flood all the love she has for him into every brush of their lips.

"I love you," she doesn't even hesitate, holding his face between her hands as if it's the most precious thing in the world. "I love you," her lips peppering kisses, softer than the ones they had traded with their mouths, kissing his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, his nose. "I love you so much sometimes I think it'll suffocate me."

[mallfoii]

“ Yes. Squabbling with you is rather enjoyable. I quite like your ire, the way you stare with such indignation… ” He liked it more than he led on, but that would be for another time, it would probably scare her just how much he enjoyed all these little details that he had noticed, and Draco had made sure to notice all of them. Maybe it was because he was so adamant about ignoring her, to deem her unworthy that anytime she was around, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards her, pay attention to who she talked to, how she looked, did she smile.

How she twirled her quill when she was thinking about something or the way her brows furrowed. And she had been pissed off at him a few times, each time he liked it more. No, that was something he might disclose later, when he was certain she might take it as a compliment, it was too early, and what they had was far too fresh.

“ I agree with your proposition. Hmm, where to start? ” There were a lot of things that he wanted to ask, and he wanted to know all of the smallest, little details that she did not share with anyone else. But again, he had to pace himself. “ I’m not that familiar with the muggle world - I’d like to know about your life before you received your Hogwarts letter. Maybe that is too vague, so tell me about the muggle school you went to. ”

That was simple enough he thought. And while a part of him was worried about what she might ask, there were things that he did not want to talk about, not yet, he hoped that they could simply get to know each other a bit more. And he was ready to devour all the information she might give him.

THERE'S A SMALL THRILL THAT GOES THROUGH HER AND HERMIONE DOESN'T HAVE IT IN HER TO BE ASHAMED OF IT. For years those closest to her had shrunk away from the side of her that wasn't soft-hearted and kind. The part of her that was vengeful, willing to colour outside the lines, to break the rules she believed did not serve her or others. It's a part of herself she had been taught to stifle.

There's something so incredibly freeing to have another person see what you had always viewed as your greatest flaws and want you for them all the more.

"You want to start our first date by stealing me from another one and then squabbling for an hour?" something in the relaxing of his posture calms her in equal measure and she settles back into her chair, looking at him with a raised brow and a flicker of amusement across her features. "I daresay it'll be memorable at the very least," she's tired of fighting, she wants to talk to him, to be with him. He's making the effort, showing by his questions that he truly does not fear or loathe her muggle heritage; she just has to meet him the rest of the way.

"How about this?" she asks, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, fully engaging in the conversation. "We do a question for a question? You start. Ask me anything you want." Hermione wants to get to know him. Wants to crack him open and root around in his brain, see what makes him tick. What makes him happy, or sad. What he wants. What he fears. She wants it all.

[mallfoii]

“ I’d wager people use hotels to sleep in, Granger. Not everyone has a perverted little mind like yours. ” He nudges his nose against her cheek affectionately before kissing her. But her next comment stomps him. Cups made of paper - it seemed to him the most ludicrous thing he had ever seen. But he trusts that it will work, even though he finds it peculiar. But most of it is for him. Whenever he had visited with his parents, they never ventured out of the wizard part of cities, the muggle part as distant as traveling to a different planet - an impossible thing. And while he thought that he shouldn’t ever want to visit, that it was dangerous and ghastly, Draco had always been curious.

He holds her hand tightly, pulling her towards him on the busy sidewalks, and follows as she explains and points to things, eyes darting to try and memorize and see all that she wants to share and to soak it all in. The little coffee shop seems nice, the smell lingers in the air and he manages to hand some paper money - the muggles must really like paper - for the coffee.

He obviously gave too much, but the girl working behind the counter only gives most of it back with a few coins, and then he holds the warm cup and they walk away. The park is nice and as soon as they move further in, the endless noise of traffic seems to be a bit more distant, and there are far fewer people around. Some of them are sitting on the grass and reading, others are occupying one of many wooden benches, and there are also those who are walking their dogs.

“ I do, never realized how less noisy the wizarding world is. ” There were far fewer wizards than muggles, fewer contraptions, and flashing lights, even in the daytime. And he missed it instantly. There was safety there, something he had obviously taken for granted, a familiarity and belonging and he now realized being away.

They move to one of the benches and he sits down, one arm on the back of the bench, the other holding his precious cup. He had taken a sip of the coffee, it was nice, better than he had imagined it to be. “ We can get some books for you, maybe lunch, and then finally - Harolds? … Hermans??? - Harrods. I’ve been informed that’s where I should go to shop for clothes. ”

"IS THERE NOW? WHAT A CONCEPT. PUREBLOOD FAMILIES MUST BE SHAKING IN THEIR DRAGONHIDE BOOTS OVER IT," Hermione loves that they can make some jokes about it these days, because she now knows completely that her blood status is no thing for him. The danger is still there of course, the threat from his family were they to find out too soon, but to Draco personally, he couldn't care less about it. In fact, she has the sneaking suspicion he may actually be rather taken with her having such a varied background from him, as often as he asks her questions about it, fascinated by the world she was raised in rather than disgusted by it as he was raised to be.

"And what, pray tell, does this Hufflepuff think the perfect Malfoy heir needs a muggle hotel room for?" especially one as nice as this. Hermione isn't materialistic by any means, but she can't help but look around the lobby in awe as he sorts things out with the front desk. It has that gorgeous grand charm to it; chandeliers, and porters, and large columns. The kind of hotel she doesn't even think her parents would have forked out for with their very stable middle-class dentist incomes.

"It is, and in this case literal. Muggles have these paper cups that you can get tea or coffee or whatever other beverage in to take away. That way we can enjoy the park and drink coffee at the same time," she can't help but find it sweet, how captivated he is by all of this, how open to learning. It feels as if she's unveiling a previously unknown part of herself to him. For so long they've had discussions about her muggle upbringing, but this is the first time he's seeing it. Immersing himself in it. And that's so important to her for anybody that she would bring into her life. Because Hermione's life isn't just magic and it isn't just this, but something in between.

Both out of the sudden rush of gratitude for him and the acknowledgement of the bewilderment on his face (she thinks that he looks a lot like her seeing magic for the first time), Hermione squeezes his hand, guiding him along in the direction of the park. "Don't you worry, there's plenty of department stores around for you to scratch your itch for compulsive shopping," she teases. " but truly, I don't care about any of that. I just want to spend time with you."

She has them duck into a lovely looking little coffee spot, ordering them both a coffee to go and letting him pay because she knows he'll only whine about it if she doesn't. When they've got their coffees in hand, they make their way across the road and into the greenery of the park. "It's a little quieter here," a pocket of peace within the city, away from the crowds of people and the cars. "I thought you might appreciate that."