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Hermione tiptoes down the hall to her room, carrying her shoes, careful not to wake her parents, or worse—her stepbrother.
At first, she thinks the coast is clear. But just as she thinks she’s made it, she turns the corner toward her bedroom door and nearly screams when she collides with a tall figure.
Of course, he has to be awake. Tonight of all nights.
“Well well, look what the cat dragged in.” He leans against the wall, and looks her up and down.
“Fuck you, Draco,” she hisses. “You scared the shit out of me.”
At her tone, he lifts a brow. “My my. Someone looks harried.”
“Thanks,” she snaps, intending to disappear into her room and pretend the whole night hadn’t happened.
Something in his eyes pins her in place, and he surveys her from head to toe, humming under his breath.
“Wedding planning tonight?” he drawls then scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re settling for a Weasley.”
Her stepbrother clicks his tongue and the slow sweep of his gaze makes her feel naked—and not in a good way. “Such a pity,” he says, shaking his head.
“Fuck off.” Hermione’s not in the mood for this. Spending the evening at the Burrow, arguing with Ron’s overbearing mother about their upcoming wedding has her more than a little stressed.
“Where’s Pansy tonight?” She says the name mockingly although she doesn’t have a problem with the girl per se. She’s better than some of the other floozies her brother has brought home in the past.
Though, come to think of it, Pansy isn’t particularly fond of her.
“Not here,” he retorts. “What’s the matter? Weasley leave you high and dry?”
Hermione huffs. He has no idea.
She needs a bath and bed. Well, she needs a few other things too, but she’ll have to settle for the former.
Surely, Draco has his own business to tend to. Pansy will probably be here any moment, ready to be shagged into his mattress.
It's wrong, Hermione knows, but she’s touched herself to the sounds of them fucking.
Hearing them makes her throb with equal parts arousal and jealousy. And though she does her best to ignore the latter, it only makes her come harder.
On this night, she opts for a shower instead of a bath.
Hermione steps into the ensuite she shares with her stepbrother and turns the tap all the way.
Her family likes to tease her for how warm she prefers her showers.
She likes them hot to the point of becoming lightheaded, needing to lie on her bed to recover after. It helps her relax, helps her sleep.
This night is no different, and once she’s done washing, she turns the water as hot as she can get it, savouring the heat and steam until she can stand it no more. She turns it off, dizzily reaching for a towel and steps out.
She barely makes it to her bed, not even bothering to close the door to her bedroom, before collapsing, nude, on her duvet.
The cool air of the room makes her nipples hard. Her hands move to her breasts, still damp from her shower and she fondles them, giving her nipples a pinch.
Hermione sighs, feeling morose. She could really have used a proper fucking today.
But of course the Weasleys are old-fashioned, and Ron had told her as soon as they started dating that they couldn’t fuck until they were married.
Some stupid puritan bullshit rule.
Now she’s alone in a bedroom in this huge, dark manor, horny as hell. Ugh.
She thinks of the sounds Draco makes when he fucks. The sounds of him fucking Pansy stupid and sending her home, probably full of his cum.
At least somebody is well-fucked in this house.
Before she knows it, her hand is between her legs, and she’s wet, both from her shower and from the arousal that jolts to her cunt at the thought of her stepbrother dicking her down.
She’s been trying so hard not to do this—not to think of him, but it’s been a day.
And so, she lets herself imagine it. Walking in on Draco in the shower and catching him with his big cock in his hand.
Maybe she’d join him. First she’d drop to her knees and suck him until he pulled her up. He’d turn her around to face the wall. He’d push into her from behind, and fuck her deep and hard.
Just this once, he’d groan into her ear, with his fingers in her mouth to smother her moans. Never again.
And oh, she’s so close, pretending her hand on her clit is his, her toes curling and her body tensing up and oh gods, she’s going to—
A throat clears. And it’s enough to have her jumping out of bed, cunt still wet and tingling, taut and ready for release before the interruption.
“Can I help you?” she asks breathily, snatching up her towel and using it to cover her body. It’s all in vain, she knows. Draco has already seen everything, including her fingers buried in her pussy.
He doesn’t need to know what she’d been thinking about.
“What were you doing?” he asks, and she can tell he’s trying to keep his eyes on hers.
Like any other brother, he’s an arse, but he’s not all bad. Unless he’s the one taking the piss out of her, he’s protective, and mostly respects her privacy. “Why was the door open?”
Hermione isn’t as respectful and her eyes travel down, past the hem of his green long sleeve tshirt, which brings out the silver in his eyes, down to the grey joggers he wears.
He’s hard. Incredibly so.
“You know what I was doing.”
Draco’s jaw tightens.
“Did you get an eyeful?” she smirks. She can’t help herself. Hermione has always been a bit of a spoiled brat and she’s used to getting away with things.
“Hard not to when you leave the fucking door wide open.”
Hermione smirks again. Emboldened by the sight of his cock threatening to poke out the waistband of his joggers, she decides to take a chance. She reaches toward it, squeezing him through the cotton material.
She knows exactly why Pansy keeps buying these for him.
Draco’s cock throbs in her grip and he hisses, pushing her hand away.
“Hermione,” he scolds, sounding every bit like a big brother, although technically, she’s a few months older.
“You were watching me,” she says. “And now you’re hard:”
“I,” he stops, clears his throat. “I thought perhaps you’d fainted.”
“Clearly I didn’t. I don’t think fainted people can play with themselves, do you?”
She smiles sweetly when a rush of breath escapes him, and this time when she reaches for him, her hand dips inside his joggers and she wraps her fingers around the swollen length of him.
He doesn’t pull away.
Gods, he’s big. She can barely fit her fingers around him. The swollen head is broad, soft as silk and slick, leaking precum onto her fingers. As she gives him a long stroke from root to tip, she meets his eyes.
His pupils are huge and his breath is harsh. For a moment, he lets her touch him, his jaw set, eyes closing slightly when she runs her thumb through the mess on his tip.
His hips jerk, as if to fuck through the circle of her fingers, but then his hand covers hers and stills her wrist.
“Stop,” he says, and though his voice is firm, she can hear the slightest of waver. She capitalizes on it.
“You don’t want me to.”
She drops her towel and his eyes immediately drop to her breasts, which jiggle as she moves, her nipples taut and rosy and peaked.
“Hermione. What the fuck are you doing?”
She presses closer. “You were the one who was watching me. I was simply minding my own business, pretending my fingers were your cock.”
Her hand moves on his cock again, and this time, his hand that covers her, squeezes hers and begins guiding it along on his thick, twitching cock.
“Fuck,” he hisses, in spite of himself. This is wrong, what they’re doing—what she’s starting—but after the night she had, she can’t bring herself to care.
“It’s been so long,” Hermione breathes. “I’ll bet I’m tighter than Pansy.”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t bring her into this,” he warns. “Don’t even fucking—“
Her thumb presses against his frenulum, and then he begins pushing forward, backing her towards her bed.
He looks feral and Hermione wonders if this is what Pansy sees when he’s about to shag her stupid. If he looks at her like he could devour her whole.
His hand squeezes hers on his cock tightly, nearly—but not quite—hard enough to hurt.
“You’re getting married.” His tone is soft but his jaw is clenched tight.
He tilts his head, eyes boring into hers and for a moment, she thinks he means to hurt her.
“You want this cock inside you, fucking you? Is that it? Need to get fucked by your stepbrother, hm?”
He pushes further until she has no choice but to climb on her bed. She leans back, holding herself up by her palms and he bites his lip as his eyes rake over her body—from her mouth, all the way down to her parted legs.
When they land on her pink pulsing cunt, she sees his cock visibly throb in his joggers.
“Better hurry,” she taunts softly, lifting a foot and tracing it over his bulge. Gods, her cunt is dripping by now. “Someone could catch us.”
Draco blinks as if coming out of a trance, and then he’s shoving his joggers down, his cock bouncing out and straining in the exact direction of her cunt.
It’s fucking glorious.
Long, thick, with the slightest curve to the right. It’s hard and flushed and so fucking slick.
Her cunt clenches as she stares at it. Of course he notices, finally climbing on the bed between her legs.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, giving himself a long, firm stroke as he watches her. “To make me want to fuck you so badly, I can’t even fucking think?”
Hermione exhales. “Yes.”
It’s been so long that she’s nearly forgotten how squeaky her bed is, but the springs shriek as he shifts closer, eyes on her cunt as he guides his cock to it.
”Say it,” he grits. “Say you want me.”
”I want you.”
Draco swears under his breath.
“We shouldn’t,” he says one last time, just for posterity, she’s nearly certain.
She reaches between them, certain she’ll die if they don’t. Hermione has never been so needy to be fucked in her life. And that’s saying something.
Her hand presses his length down between the warm wet lips of her pussy, and she begins to shift her hips. She fucks herself against his shaft, moaning when the thick ridge of him catches on her swollen clit.
“Just this once,” she manages to pant, and Draco groans when she moves her hip just so, and begins to notch his cock into her.
“Oh fuck.” Her head falls back and her cunt squeezes as he thrusts into her for the first time, hips flexing as if on instinct.
She was built to be fucked by him specifically, pounded into by him, his cock stabbing into her pussy, dragging along every sensitive nerve inside her.
With each thrust, the bed creaks, and soon, her world narrows to the heat of friction of her stepbrother’s cock moving inside her, and the rhythmic squeak of her bed springs.
If their parents were awake, they’d surely hear them.
“Oh fuck,” he rasps out. “You feel so good. I can’t—fuck. I can’t fucking stop.”
“Don’t stop, Draco. Don’t fucking stop. I’m going to—fuck.”
Draco nearly growls and his hips speed up, fucking her in deep, grinding thrusts.
“You going to come on it? Going to come all over my cock?”
“Oh shit.” She is. She’s going to come so fucking hard.
“Draco, I’m fucking coming.” And she moans, loud, until his palm comes up to cover her mouth.
Then she lets herself wail, her inner walls throbbing and pulsing, squeezing and clamping down so hard on him, he stops moving.
“That’s it. Good girl. Let me feel it. Yes, baby. Does that feel better? Did this cock make you feel so good?”
Her vision is still swimming, her moans shifting into whimpers when he suddenly pulls out, and rises up to his knees, frantically jerking himself.
He can’t come inside her, of course. That’s a line they’ve never crossed.
He groans low in his throat, and these are the exact sounds she touches herself to, through the thin walls between their rooms. “So fucking good. Gonna make me come so hard.”
Hermione gasps with delight when warm spurts are suddenly coating her belly, her cunt, and then a last, rogue spurt all the way up to her breasts.
“Fuck,” he sighs, when he’s managed to wring the last drop of cum out of himself. “We really shouldn’t have done that.”
Hermione is too satisfied to feel anything other than sleepy. She runs her fingers lazily through the mess he’d made of her, and hears his breath catch when she gathers it on her fingertips and sucks it into her mouth.
He watches raptly as she cleans her fingers, and then he leans in, kissing her for the first time that night. Hermione moans as he licks his cum from her tongue, and soon he’s fully hard again, grinding against her sensitive pussy.
For the second time that night, Draco fucks her, and she comes so hard, her eyes cross.
“We can’t do this again,” he whispers even as he pushes into her again and again and again.
And Hermione smiles.
Just like last time. And the time before that.
***
“Why isn’t Pansy here?” Hermione asks later, before she kicks him out of her room. “She’s always here.”
She tries for nonchalance but her voice is much too high-pitched to fool anyone.
Ever since Hermione announced her engagement to Ron two months prior, Draco had started bringing the raven-haired girl around, almost every night.
It makes Hermione want to be sick hearing them, though she knows she has no right.
“She broke up with me,” he tells her flippantly. “A week ago. You’ve been too self-involved to notice.”
“Well, excuse me.” Hermione rolls her eyes, but her heart pounds desperately in her chest. “Why?”
“Because,” he drawls, and Hermione shivers at the look in his eyes. “She found a pair of knickers in my room, full of cum. And let’s just say, they weren’t hers.”
Hermione bites her lip to hide a pleased grin.
“Whose were they?”
“Yours, obviously.”
“Oh.” Of course they were. She’d put them there.
He rises, pulling up his joggers, his now mostly limp cock still impressive between his legs.
“Yeah, oh.”
“But…” Hermione’s brow furrows. “I heard you with someone this morning. And yesterday. And—“
He chuckles. “No you didn’t.”
“Yes I did. Because I—“
Hermione stops, and glares at the knowing look on his face.
“No you didn’t. You heard me, wanking. Thinking about fucking you.” He laughs bitterly and shakes his head.
“You know, it really doesn’t seem fair, that my relationships go to shit, and here you are planning a fucking wedding.” His voice drips with contempt and she knows exactly what he’ll say next. “To a fucking Weasley.”
Hermione sits up, and his eyes drop to the sway of her tits. She smiles sweetly, blinking up at him.
“Would you rather I marry someone else? Theo? Blaise? Harry?”
His eyes narrow. “Fuck off.”
“Draco, we both know that’s the only way this stops.”
In a few months time, she’ll be married to Ron and out of the fucking manor she’s lived in since she was eleven, when her mother married Draco’s father.
Years she’s spent running from her feelings for him. Years now of playing these games, both of them trying their hardest to move on but never quite able to get there.
“When I’m gone, you’ll find someone.”
She watches as Draco picks up a pair of her knickers from her dirty clothes pile and presses them to his nose before pocketing them.
“Doubt it,” he smirks sadly. and leaves her alone with her thoughts.
Her cunt is sore from him, but finally she’s satisfied. With a clear mind, she knows she should be taking notes, writing down guest lists and menu ideas, thinking about wedding dresses.
Instead, she thinks about her stepbrother.
And wonders if never again is even possible for them.
***
On her wedding day, Hermione stands in front of a mirror, looking impassively at herself in her wedding dress.
Her dress is beautiful, her hair and makeup are perfect.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” her mother fusses, and Hermione doesn’t miss the worry in her voice, nor the ticking of her stepfather’s jaw. She can’t look in his eyes, afraid she’ll see Draco in them.
She thinks of him. How he’d gotten back together with Pansy the day after he’d told her about the breakup. Pictures them sitting out in the pews, her stepbrother in the front row with his pretty little date.
At the rehearsal dinner last night, he’d made a scene of kissing Pansy in front of her, grabbing her arse, and maybe worst of all, holding her hand.
She wonders what he’d said to get back in her good graces, how he’d explained the knickers. Explained all of it. Pansy is no fool.
But what right does Hermione have to care?
Her own fiancé had stood dutifully next to her all night, smiling blandly, barely touching her while Molly, her mother-in-law-to-be did all the talking for them.
Then later, she’d had to lay in bed alone and listen to the sounds of Pansy coming on her stepbrother’s cock, the deep grunts of him using someone else’s body for pleasure.
Hermione wants to fucking scream.
Of course she doesn’t want to do this.
But she smiles at her parents and nods.
Just as her mum is about to respond, there’s a knock on the door.
Hermione stiffens when she sees a sleek, blond head peeking in.
Lucius guides her mother away, and with a knowing yet worried glance back, they depart, leaving Hermione and Draco to it.
***
For a moment, they just look at each other.
“You left Pansy alone?” Hermione pretends to gasp. “Who’s going to finger her while you’re gone?”
Draco scoffs. “What about your fiancé? Shouldn’t he be in here giving you a little preview of how he plans to fuck your brains out tonight?”
The idea of fucking Ron makes Hermione fidget and it doesn’t escape Draco’s notice, though he interprets it incorrectly.
His eyes narrow. “Already eager for him, are you? Standing there in that joke of a white dress though we both know full well you’re anything but pure.”
“Shut the fuck up, Draco. As if you’re any better.”
He moves closer to her. “I’m the one who tried to stop. I’m the one who said never again. I tried to move on. You’re the one who fucking leaves the door open when you want me. Leaves knickers laying on the bathroom floor. Like I’m just some…”
He trails off, jaw tight and pale cheeks pink with anger.
“Like you’re some what?”
“Just someone to fuck. Like I’m just a cock for you to use when your sad excuse for a fiancé won’t fuck you.”
“Like you don’t fuck your girlfriend loud enough for everyone in the manor to hear. How would you feel if I fucked Ron next door to you? Maybe I’ll bring him home with me for our wedding night.” Draco’s eyes go dark, and Hermione realizes she’s practically yelling but she really doesn’t care.
“What if you could hear the exact second I came on his cock? How would you fucking—mmph”
Her words are cut off by Draco plunging his tongue into her mouth, silencing her with an angry, biting kiss.
Before she knows it, he’s pushed her toward the settee in the room, making her trip over her skirts and land on her back gasping up at him.
The look in his eyes makes her cunt weep and clench, and she sits up, her trembling hands working at his fly, opening his belt, desperate to get to his cock.
Draco’s hands move to her hair as she grazes the tip of him with her teeth then tongue, then sucks him into her mouth, wrapping her lips around him.
“Do you know what you’ve fucking done to me?” His voice already sounds wrecked and she’s barely touched him yet.
His tip hits the back of her throat and she pulls off with a wet suck, then licks him from sac to tip, savouring the salty taste of him she’s sorely missed.
“No one,” he hisses, “fucking no one, can even compare to you. Pansy is—fuck—“ Hermione nips the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft at the mention of Pansy’s name— and moans when Draco grips himself and pushes back into her mouth.
“She’s the girl everyone wanted at school. I finally got her and I don’t. Even. Fucking. Want her.” He emphasizes every word with a thrust.
“All I want is this. You, My fucking stepsister. Though I tried to fucking stop.”
Hermione pulls off again and reaches down between her legs, fumbling with the skirts of the stupid dress she’s wearing for the stupid wedding she doesn’t want.
By now she’s probably soaked clear through to the velvet of the settee.
Draco’s cock is painfully hard, flushed almost purple, slick from her spit and fuck, she thinks she’d do anything to get it inside her.
“Draco,” she pants. “Please. I—“
He’s already helping her push the lace and silk up out of the way and he swears at the state of her knickers.
“I can fucking see you clenching through your fucking panties. Fucking soaked. How are you always so fucking wet for me?”
She reaches down and pulls them aside for him and almost cries when he dips down and then his tongue is on her, hot, and slick and velvet, a well-tuned instrument to all of her most sensitive spots.
He curls it inside her, then laps at her slit, then her pulsing entrance. He swirls it around her clit and then she’s coming, hard, loud, her palm coming up to clap over her mouth.
Draco growls and moves up her body, using his nose to shove her hand away from her lips and then he’s kissing her, deeply, making sure she can taste herself on his tongue.
Between her legs, she feels him guiding his cock to her entrance and she bites his bottom lip to keep from screaming when he finally pushes in.
It’s been weeks, months—far too fucking long—and Hermione comes immediately, cunt already primed and sensitive from her first orgasm.
“Fucking hell,” he grits into her ear, and she wraps her legs around his waist, the rough material of his trousers rubbing against her inner thighs but she really doesn’t give a fuck. “If you still insist on walking down that fucking aisle to him, you’ll be doing it with my cum between your legs.”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Yes. That’s it. Fuck me fuck me fuck me, Draco. Come inside me. Give me all of it.”
“Nobody has ever made me come as hard as you do,” he breathes. “Gonna. Fucking. Flood you.”
And this time when she feels him pulse, she locks him inside, moaning with him as he fills her with hot, thick spurts of cum for the first time ever.
She’s late for the wedding by now, so fucking late, but she can’t bring herself to care.
Once he’s put his cock away and straightened his clothes, he reaches out to touch her face. A tender touch that she doesn’t deserve.
“You don’t have to, you know.” He swallows, eyes looking suspiciously shiny and red as he fixes a stray curl, and runs his thumb along the corner of her mouth to fix her smeared lipstick. “You don’t have to go. To marry him.”
He reaches out his hands to pull her up, and fixes her dress as he talks.
“If you stay, we’ll figure it out.”
Just as Hermione reaches for him, there’s a knock on the door, loud, insistent.
She freezes, waiting for whoever it is to walk in and find them. Part of her wants them to.
But when the person attempts to open the door, the knob jiggles.
Their parents had locked them inside, locked everyone else outside.
They knew.
When Hermione opens the door, with Draco at her back, she already knows what she’ll find.
A red-faced Molly, an impassive Ron, Pansy looking annoyed.
Their parents are there too, and her mum takes Molly aside while Hermione talks to a sputtering Ron.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But I can’t marry you.”
The redhead’s eyes widen and find their way over her shoulder, where she knows they’ll meet the smug grey eyes of her stepbrother.
Then he turns around, and wordlessly leaves, for once, putting two and two together.
Oh, Ron had hated Draco back at school. Just as Pansy had hated her.
The girl in question gapes at them, but before she can say a word, Draco takes her arm, walking her out of the room.
Hermione wonders what he’ll say to her. If he’ll break things off or continue to punish Hermione for everything she’s ever done.
For needing him and making him need her. For falling in love with him, as stupid as that was.
When he comes back, Hermione’s already changed out of her dress, back into the leggings and sweater she’d worn this morning. Her knickers are full of his warm cum and she finds she quite likes the sensation of it.
He marches right up to her, and holds her face in his hands.
Relieved, her hand comes up to meet his and they realize at the same time she’s forgotten to give Ron back his ring.
Draco sneers, pulling it off her finger and tossing it through the open door.
Then he holds her by the chin, kissing her filthily, as their parents, once again, leave them in peace.
He rests his forehead against hers and she whimpers, tangling her fingers in his shirt to keep him close.
With him, she doesn’t have to pretend to be anything other than what she is. Rotten or not, nobody else has ever looked at her the way he does. Nobody else has ever loved her like he does.
“Please,” he implores, “Don’t ever try to marry anyone else.”
“Never again,” she agrees, and pulls his lips back to hers.