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What the fuck does she think she’s doing? Cosying up to Weasley in front of everyone. Her big doe eyes looking up at him like he hung the fucking moon.
Draco watches them from across the hall at the Slytherin table.
Her arm rests on Weasley’s and she throws her head back in laughter at something he says. Something barmy, no doubt. It’s all for show, for Draco, yet Weaselbee is beaming at her, staring with his dopey fucking grin.
She wraps her arm tighter around him, offering him a side hug and resting her head on his shoulder. The Weasel turns as red as his stupid hair.
But her eyes flick up and find Draco’s instantly. His steel gaze bores into her, and she smirks and narrows her gaze as if to say how do you like it?
He doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
Draco pushes up from his seat and stalks across the Great Hall, gathering stares as he goes. The hall goes silent; It’s as if everyone stops eating and turns watching him practically stomp over to the Gryffindor table.
Granger sits up, back straight, eyes never leaving his as he makes a beeline right for her. Her eyes widen and her lips part. He knows her well enough to tell she’s nervous about what he’s going to do. Good.
Potter, who’s sitting across from Weasley and Granger, stands as Draco approaches. A few other Gryffindors follow suit.
“Go away, Malfoy,” Potter warns, and Draco rolls his eyes. He’s not here for Scarhead.
Potter’s little girlfriend stares, eyes bouncing between Draco and Hermione. Weaselette has her wand down by her hip, but as her gaze lands on Hermione she looks…curious, instead of angry.
Draco rounds the table to where Hermione is sitting and Weaselbee moves, standing in front of her protectively. It’s a valiant effort, especially for a Weasley, but nothing will stop him from getting his girl.
Hermione stands and peering around the Weasel’s shoulder. Draco smirks as he catches her eye.
“Leave, Malfoy. You’re not welcome here.” His attempts to sound threatening to impress a girl who doesn’t want him are…pathetic.
Draco doesn’t bother to dignify it with a response. He pushes past him, knocking the ginger slightly off kilter, but unfortunately not enough to knock him over entirely. He stops in front of his target, leering down at her with a smirk.
“Granger,” he growls.
Hermione crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her curls back. Draco can’t help but look down, checking her out. He notices her skirt is shorter than usual, his eyes landing on the creamy skin of her thighs. He clenches his jaw and catches the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth when she sees him looking at her.
“Get away from her,” Weasel says, nerves rattling his tone as he comes to stand beside Hermione. On the other side of the table, Potter has his hand on his wand, though it’s not raised. Not yet anyway.
Granger and her fucking guard dogs.
“What’s he doing here, ‘Mione? What’s he want with you?” Weasel asks, his left arm bracing around the front of Hermione, wrapping around her hip and making Draco see red.
Draco scoffs. He hates that fucking nickname. Apparently four syllables is too much for the Weasel’s quidditch-addled brain; he had to cut her name down to two.
“Malfoy,” she says, a question in her tone. She looks up at him, eyes fluttering and wary.
He can appreciate her technique. She successfully got his attention, but if she didn’t want anger, maybe she shouldn’t flaunt the fucking Weasel in his face.
He smirks and like the strike of a cobra, his hand reaches out, wrapping like a vice around Hermione’s wrist and pulling her away from her army of lions.
“What are you doing?” She grits between her teeth.
“What, you thought I was going to sit there and watch you flirt with the Weasel right in front of me? You wanted a reaction, Granger,” he shrugs. “You got one.”
“Get your fucking hands off her, Malfoy!” Ron roars from behind them. He runs up, grabbing onto Draco’s arm and yanking it away from Hermione. “You don’t have the right to touch her.”
Draco laughs in the ginger’s face. “You have no idea the things she lets me do to her, Weasel. The things she likes. The things she won’t let you do. Things she’d never do for you.”
He rips his arm from Weaselbee’s grasp and wraps an arm around Hermione’s waist. He tugs her close, their bodies touching. People are yelling at the both of them, a chorus of ‘‘Miones’ and ‘Malfoys’, desperately wanting an explanation.
So he’ll give them one.
Without another thought or a care about everyone watching, Draco leans down, capturing Hermione’s mouth in a searing kiss. People gasp, Weasley makes a choked, sputtering noise and Potter yells to get off her.
The kiss is passionate and bruising and by the time he breaks it, they’re both panting. Though she’s nervous, there’s a fire in Hermione’s eyes as she glances up at Draco.
“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, low enough for only her to hear.
She shakes her head, coffee-coloured curls bouncing with the movement. A wicked gleam brightens Draco’s silver eyes and he leans down to whisper in her ear.
“Good, because I’m only getting started.”
Taking her hand and leaving their things behind, he tugs her along, pulling her through the doors of the Great Hall. Their classmates file out after them, running behind to watch where they’re going and what they could possibly be doing together.
Weasel keeps yelling her stupid nickname down the hall and a few streams of light pass by them as curses and jinxes miss them by inches. Useless wanker.
Hermione shrieks as an errant Stupefy hits the ground beside her feet. She jumps to the side and Draco pushes her in the first abandoned classroom he finds. He secures the door, charming it so no one can get in, but he’s sure that won’t stop them from trying.
Within moments, he can hear Weasley and the rest of the crowd outside the classroom, yelling Hermione’s name and banging on the door. Draco smirks. He purposely doesn’t cast a silencing charm. Let Weasel hear all the depraved things Granger lets him do to her, all the ways he can touch her and the Weasel can’t.
“Care to explain yourself, Granger?” He asks, leaning against the wall, a look of casual arrogance on his face.
Hermione crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Draco scoffs, rolling his eyes and twirling his wand between his fingers. “Don’t play dumb, Granger, it’s beneath you.” He pockets his wand and stalks toward her until she’s pressed up against one of the desks. He fingers her skirt, toying with the fabric. “Why were you flaunting Weasley in front of me?”
She looks up, chocolate eyes determined before a small smirk unfolds on her pink lips. “Because…” she starts, pressing her hand against his chest, her tongue darting out to wet her lips “I like when you’re jealous. I like when you lose control.”
Draco places his hands under her thighs, lifting her up onto the desk. “What about now? Knowing I just dragged you here in front of all your friends, that they’re on the other side of that door wondering what we could be doing? That they’re about to hear all the ways I can make you beg for me?”
Hermione bites her lip, looking up at him from under her lashes. She parts her lips, a sharp exhale escaping before she admits, “It makes me wet.” She licks her lips, trailing her hands over his shirt and undoing the buttons one by one.
He leans in, breath coasting over her ear. “Say it louder, Granger. Let them hear you.”
A shiver runs over her body. “Draco,” she whines, pressing her thighs together.
He reaches his hands under her skirt, more than happy to find out for himself if she’s as turned on as she claims. Roughly, he tugs her knickers to the side and swipes his finger through her folds.
“Fuck.”
Hermione has his shirt open and pushed off his shoulders when he rips her knickers clean off her. He grabs her around the waist, tugging her against him and capturing her lips in a fervent, ravenous kiss. Tearing his lips from hers, his eyes wander over her hungrily as he rips open her shirt without a care. Buttons fly everywhere.
She gasps as she looks up at him, the fire still burning in her chocolate gaze. Her hands find his belt and she rips at the clasp, tugging open his trousers and freeing his cock. She pumps him over once, twice before he rips her hand off him.
He guides her hands to the edge of the table, wrapping her fingers around the ledge. “Keep them there. Don’t make me use a sticking charm.” He quirks a brow at her and she nods, biting that fucking lip of hers.
Draco finds his way back under her skirt and pushes a finger inside her. She whimpers, biting her lip.
“Don’t hold back, Granger. I want you to scream my name. I want everyone to hear who’s fucking you, who’s making you lose control, who’s making you come. You’re mine. I’m not going to sit back and let you flirt with anyone else in front of my face. It’s time everyone knows you’re taken.”
She looks over his shoulder at the door. Her eyes are wide with concern. Clearly, he needs to make her forget about the people outside that door.
He adds a second finger, and his thumb finds her clit as he fucks her on the tabletop. Hermione falls back onto the table, her curls cascading over the opposite side. Draco has one of her legs over his arm, keeping her open to him, as he fucks her roughly.
Her walls flutter around his fingers and he bites back a groan, desperate to feel her squeezing his cock. His length is pressed her inner thigh, so close to where he wants it, aching to sink into her hot, wet core.
Muffled behind him, he can still hear the banging on the classroom door and thumping as Weasel and co. try and barge in. The darkness inside him smirks. Let him. Let Weasel see all the ways he touches and fucks his perfect little golden girl.
Her back bows off the table and her fingers still wrapped around the smooth, wooden edge, knuckles turning white with her tight grip. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip and her eyes are pinched shut
“Stop fighting it, Granger,” he says, a smile hiding just under the order. “You’re going to come even if I have to force it out of you.” He presses down on her clit, swirling over her in tight circles.
Hermione shakes her head from side to side and a wicked thought crosses Draco’s mind.
He stops entirely, pulling away from her.
“No!” She cries out, eyes snapping open immediately. She leans up on her elbows, her face flushed, and her lips parted. She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying the soft flesh.
He tucks himself back into his trousers, zipping them up but not worrying about the clasp.
“You’re quite the sight, Granger.” She’s a wanton mess. Just how Draco likes her. “If you don’t want to come while all your friends are banging on that door, that’s fine. I get it.” He shrugs, a wicked smile threatening to tug at his lips.
“You do?” She asks, still breathless. She sits up, readjusting her clothes as best she can to cover herself.
He nods. He’s not unreasonable. She has her limits. He can respect that.
In his own way, of course.
“I just need you to send them away so I can finish what you started.” He drags his gaze over her, watching as the blush creeps up her cheeks and her eyes widen as realization dawns.
“You want me…” She looks over his shoulder at the door where the yelling and banging has dwindled, but not stopped altogether.
Draco can still make out the Weasel’s shouts and he smirks to himself.
“You want me to go out there and tell Ron and Harry… what, exactly?”
“I don’t care what you tell them,” Draco says, shrugging. “This can go two ways. Either we finish this now with them outside the door or you open the door and make them go away. Your choice. I don’t care either way.”
Hermione huffs in disbelief. “Malfoy.” She shakes her head. “You can’t be serious.” She looks down. “I don’t even have my wand to repair my shirt!”
“Oh, I’m quite serious, Granger,” He pulls his wand from his back pocket and fixes her buttons. Only her buttons. “While I don’t love the thought of Weaselbee ever knowing what you sound like when you come, it would be worth it for him to know you’re mine.”
“No matter what I choose… they find out about us.”
Draco’s wicked grin is back. Exactly.
Hermione hops off the desk, flattening her skirt and running her hands over her mussed hair. “If I do this,” she walks over to where Draco is standing, stopping right in front of him. “You need to keep your mouth shut.”
“Done.” He grins, knowing he won’t need to say anything anyway for Weasley to get the full picture.
“Maybe you should hide or something. Stay out of sight,” she says, looking him over. She shoos him away, but he steps back to lean against one of the desks in clear view of the door.
She takes a deep breath before cracking open the door enough to peer out.
She makes a mistake, not accounting for the Weasel’s temper. The door bursts open, Weaselbee’s hand flattened against the wood.
Draco clocks the moment Weasel spots him and his dishevelled appearance: unbuttoned shirt, half-open trousers, likely-mussed hair. He winks at the redhead whose face is red enough to match his stupid hair.
“Bloody hell.” He looks between them, eyes narrowing. “He’s—him—you’re—Malfoy?!” He shakes his head. “Hermione. Tell me you’re not serious.” He leans his head in, but his voice is hard and too loud for a whisper. “Are you okay? Were you cursed?”
Draco rolls his eyes. Behind the Weasel, he can make out a few more people, at least one of whom has his wand pointed directly at Draco, eyes never leaving his, even as his face flushes and he fiddles with his glasses.
Hermione steps in between them, but Draco can still make out the way Weaselbee’s ears turn bright red. She grips his wrist, snapping the fingers on her other hand to make him focus solely on her.
“Ronald,” she snaps. “Harry.” She sighs, looking behind Weaselbee. “This is none of your concern. Draco didn’t curse me and I would appreciate it if you would leave. I can tell you everything later.”
He watches Potter wrinkle his nose.
“Well, maybe not everything,” Hermione mumbles.
“Hermione,” Ron says, his voice pained.
Draco takes the opportunity to leave his post in the background, walking slowly toward his girl and wrapping an arm around her waist. He plants a kiss on her temple and smirks at her dimwit friends.
“Good girl,” he tells her.
Weaselbee starts sputtering and Potter looks away, grimacing.
“Malfoy,” Hermione chastises, but he doesn’t miss the way her chest flushes as he peers down the front of her shirt.
“Please,” Hermione begs them.
“Unless you want to stay for the show.”
“Draco!”
He chuckles at her screech.
“Come on, boys.” The Weaslette giggles as she grips both boys by their collars, pulling them away. “I expect all the details,” she calls to Hermione. “No censoring.” She wiggles her brows, pushing the two cockblocks down the hall.
With the flick of his wand, Draco shuts the door, locking it once more and silencing it this time, before spinning Hermione to face him, pulling them chest to chest. He leans down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss full of sinful promises.
“Come on, Granger. I’d like to finish what we started.”