9

**Warning: Contains explicit sexual content. Please don't read, if that offends you.**

Chapter Nine

Friday 21 February 2003: PM

Draco has his black roll-neck jersey sweater half-off when someone bangs heartily on his front door knocker. Three perfectly spaced raps, a pause, then three more less patient beats.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute!" he yells, the words muffled as his head gets stuck in the unfurled turtleneck. He thrashes around in a frustrated lather until the dratted garment slides back down.

Great. My hair's a right mess now, Draco gripes as he hurries down to the first floor, rolling the high collar back into place. Two unheralded visitors in less than a week. Although technically Granger doesn't count – she was a refugee, of sorts.

Flinging the door open irritably, Draco blinks stupidly at the identity of his caller.

Hermione Granger. Upright, alert, and… magnificent. Rosy-cheeked, glossy-haired, thrumming with energy and purpose. A glorious amalgam of contradictions. Innocent and professional in a brown tweed skirt suit and simple buttoned white business shirt; sexy as hell in the tightly tailored dark mahogany waistcoat and killer knee-high heeled boots. Draco's donated black pea coat flows from her petite shoulders and flutters in the mild winter breeze as they stare at each other in silence.

Before his addled brain and mouth can join forces in speech, Hermione catapults into his arms, homing in on his mouth and ravaging it with gusto. Her clever hands comb through his achromatic locks ceaselessly, alternately tugging and smoothing, as she wedges herself snugly between Draco's splayed thighs, braced against the outside wall of his townhouse.

Her pliant lips on his set Draco's blood afire. Hermione is all heat and motion – just like last night, he thinks dazedly – but with an extra uninhibited fervour that was lacking yesterday. Like she's carefully considered all the angles, plotted her options, researched his proposition to the nth degree… and to his amazement, she's decided to go all in.

And he may be selfish and undeserving, and this is most likely a one-shot, one-night deal… but Draco thoroughly intends to ensure the whole transcendent experience is spectacular and unforgettable. For them both. He recovers his equilibrium enough to succumb to the temptation to run his strong, nimble fingers over every part of Hermione that he can reach, hands slipping beneath her coat feverishly. The sweet indent of her waist and gentle flare of her hips, her whimper of pure need as he pulls her closer still and kneads her curvy little bum, the tweed catching against the callouses on his palms… Draco's heart thuds capriciously as he falls deeper into a seemingly bottomless well of lust and need and primal instinct.

Seemingly intent to mirror Draco's actions when he pinned her against the wall of her flat yesterday evening, Hermione is lapping at his jaw and biting hot, drugging kisses down his windpipe. Reaching the barrier of his high collar, she transfers her attentions to the side of his neck, licking at a small freckle just below his left ear that Draco never knew was insanely sensitive.

He's losing control at a frighteningly rapid rate; with a concerted effort, Draco regains his inveterate discipline. He is used to being dominant, having honed and enjoyed the role in his previous sexual encounters; but his body is helplessly reacting to Hermione's unbridled and eager erotic ministrations to a degree that may bear further examination.

But not tonight. In a single fluid move, Draco hoists Hermione off the stoop, devoutly cupping her pert buttocks and switching their positions so that she is pressed against the wall. He holds her there just long enough for her to wrap her long legs around his waist, growling in satisfaction as Hermione quickly catches on and locks her ankles for support. Her hands move to his shoulders as Draco bolts back into his house, slamming the front door shut with the sole of his foot before tackling the staircase.

He can't stop kissing and touching her, making each upward step more precarious than the last; fortunately, his athletic reflexes save them from disaster and he practically gallops into his bedroom once they've reached the landing.

The lamps are already on from his abortive attempt to undress a few minutes ago. Draco lowers Hermione onto his bed, waiting until she has steadied herself before he plucks off her overcoat. It falls unheeded beside them. He guides her to lie on her back against the soft swan-white duvet of his bed, swinging up her shapely legs. Before he settles back into the warm cradle of her spread thighs, Draco tilts her head and carefully emancipates her hair from its loosely pinned knot, fanning her abundant sienna tresses across the pillow, marvelling at its satiny, dense texture and vibrant tones.

Hermione's eyes are huge and shine with undisguised hunger and wonderment as they track Draco's attentive movements. She breathes shallowly as Draco peppers open-mouthed kisses against her silky throat, propping himself on his elbows as his talented lips and tongue exult in their downward journey. Her hands reach for him; Draco lightly bats them aside as he kneels and begins unhurriedly undoing the buttons of her jacket, vest and simple blouse, anointing each uncovered inch of olive skin with a kiss. When he reaches the tops of her breasts above her lacy bra, Hermione thrusts upward zestfully, moaning candidly.

She's so receptive to the slightest graze of my hands and mouth, Draco thinks wonderingly. Hermione's cupid's bow lips part as she sighs in bliss.

Before he succumbs to the temptation of gleefully worshipping her plump breasts, Draco withdraws his hands, leaning back on his heels to gaze deeply into Hermione's lustrous dark eyes. He is taken aback to realize that they haven't said a word since he opened his door.

Draco rasps solemnly, "Granger. Look at me, please. Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it."

Scrambling to her knees, Hermione peers searchingly into Draco's blazing argentate eyes. She doesn't hesitate to voice her consent, smiling saucily at him.

"I want you, Malfoy. I want you to undress me and touch me and kiss me and talk dirty to me and ravish me all night. And then do it all again."

Well. No ambiguity in that declaration, Draco thinks jubilantly. He leans forward again with a wolfish grin, but Hermione's small hand firming against his torso signals a halt.

"I haven't finished," she announces authoritatively. "I want to kiss and touch and explore you, too… What do you say, Malfoy?" she asks insouciantly. The light tremble of Hermione's fingers belies her nonchalance.

Draco enfolds his hand around her quivering digits, caressing the jittering pulse point at her delicate wrist with his thumb.

He doesn't break their intense eye contact as he reassures her, "It's alright, Granger – I've got you." Draco's own heartbeat is caroming crazily, stabilizing only after Hermione bestows him with a nod of assent and radiant smile.

"What are you waiting for, then?" she teases, swiftly finding the hem of his roll-neck sweater and pulling it over his head and arms before flinging it carelessly into a far corner of his bedroom. Draco gasps at the electrifying sensation of Hermione frantically running her hands across his sculpted chest and shoulders and back.

Forget chemistry – this is nuclear fucking fission. Draco draws a deep breath and re-applies himself to the delightful task of stripping Ms. Hermione Granger down to her birthday suit. She doesn't make it easy for him as she constantly strokes his alabastrine skin and nuzzles fiery kisses into his neck and jawline. When her thumb brushes the hard nub of his nipple, Draco growls in pleasure and warning, lightly encircling her wrists with one strong hand as he fluidly unfastens the side zipper on her skirt.

Sliding down Hermione's body, Draco unzips her boots, tossing them in the vague direction of his turtleneck. His intention to go slow has been decimated by the heady reality of the beautiful, willing woman in his bed.

Working feverishly, Draco divests Hermione of her skirt suit, vest and work shirt, leaving her in a matched set of lacy ivory knickers and bra. The stunning sight renders Draco perfectly witless for a few seconds; pure lust and longing and raw need coalesce, stilling his energetic reconnaissance of Hermione's lovely body.

She sits up again, her impatient fingers fumbling at his belt and trousers. Draco snaps back into action; he whips off his belt and undoes his fly, toeing off his shoes and wrenching off his socks in a whirlwind of frenzied motion. He groans as Hermione helps drag down his trousers – whether by accident or design, her hands skim lightly over the front of his black boxer shorts and inflame his already rock-hard cock and aching balls.

Hermione dips her head thoughtfully to the side at his reaction, replicating her touch with more pressure. "Do you like that, Malfoy?" she tantalizes, an impish smirk hovering round her mouth at Draco's involuntary moans.

"Harder," Draco instructs in a hoarse whisper. She readily complies, as Draco pushes roughly against her palm. He thrusts his hands into her hair, pulling her closer to kiss her deeply, his tongue mimicking the urgent rhythm of his hips.

Hermione whines ecstatically as Draco deftly unsnaps the back clip of her bra, tugging the straps to her elbows and branching his hands across her gorgeous breasts, canopying their soft weight as he strums her blush-pink nipples with the tips of his thumbs. Her hands fall away from his pulsating groin as she collapses back onto the bed.

Her pretty bra joins the rest of the discards in the corner; Hermione tilts her hips without being asked as Draco slips his fingers beneath her semi- transparent knickers and smooths them down her legs, stroking reverently. He is quietly shaking from the iron control he is employing right now – his painfully tumescent cock is screaming for release – but he is determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy out of their joining.

Hermione deserves nothing less.

Draco's dogged resolve is sorely tested as Hermione entreats, "Please, Malfoy – I'm burning up, I want you... I need you inside me…". Her hands scrabble zealously at his underwear, managing to jerk them off his buttocks and down to his knees before he can stop her.

"Wait, wait –" Draco comes to his senses long enough to grab his puddled trousers off the floor, fishing his wand out of his trouser pocket to cast a contraceptive spell on himself. He speedily steps out of his boxer shorts and prowls unselfconsciously back to the bed, his large cock bouncing against his lean abdomen. Draco's ego is gratified by the wide-eyed admiration in Hermione's gaze as she stares thirstily at his naked form.

Sprawled wantonly across the chalky bedding, Hermione looks like a goddess, Draco decides – her beautifully proportioned limbs and voluptuous curves; velvet-soft skin flushed rose with arousal; sparkling eyes and dulcet lips and a luxuriant mass of tawny curls. Her glorious breasts and taut nipples, the sweet glimpse of her pink quim as her legs shift restlessly.

Noting where Draco's glance is straying, Hermione grins wickedly, leisurely drawing up her left leg into a right angle before dropping it flat, further exposing her sex to his avid eyes.

The sly little witch knows exactly what she's doing to me, Draco muses with begrudging admiration. Time to turn some tables.

Draco pounces on Hermione's supine body like a wild panther, bracketing her wrists above her head as he notches his throbbing cock between her silken thighs. He drags his engorged phallus slowly through her soft, dampened labial lips; they simultaneously moan at the exquisite friction.

Resting his head atop her shoulder, Draco nips delicately at Hermione's earlobe as he murmurs throatily, "You like my cock rubbing your perfect little pussy, don't you, Granger? You're so wet for me already… you're going to come so hard; I know you will. I want to hear you scream as your pretty pussy squeezes my dick…"

Hermione writhes beneath him, straining to free her hands. Draco releases them, gripping her hips to agilely flip her atop him.

"Ride me, Granger – take what you need, ma belle femme. Show me how brave you are, ma tigresse."

She needs no further urging. Steadying herself with one hand locked against his chest, Hermione reaches between their slick bodies, wrapping her fingers around the base of Draco's rigid shaft to guide him into her wet channel, plunging downwards in one swift movement to bury his cock to the hilt inside her tight pussy.

Draco crushes his eyes shut involuntarily as Hermione moans huskily, shifting her position a little as he fights to keep his hands steady on her soft hips. Every one of his nerve endings is alight with delirious pleasure, coaxing him to thrust up inside her; Draco counts backward from a hundred in a desperate attempt to stop himself from spilling prematurely.

Fortunately, Hermione appears to share his torrid imperativeness. Her long, luscious curls curtain them both as she works herself unhesitatingly over Draco's stiff cock. He opens his eyes again to find Hermione watching him intently, her pupils dilated, transforming her expressive eyes from brown to almost-black.

Draco senses that she is close to orgasm; he slides his thumbs to her labia, stroking through her silky mound, before using his right digit to hold her roseate lips open while his left thumb expertly stimulates her clitoris. He quickly finds a rhythm of alternate flicks and deep presses that Hermione responds best to, whispering encouragement to her in susurrant French.

"Malfoy – don't stop, I'm gonna come –" Hermione gasps, tilting forward as she chases her orgasm.

"That's it, ma chérie… you look so sexy, taking your pleasure… come for me, Granger…" Draco croons, as his own climax hurtles toward him like a tsunami. Hermione clenches around him, crying out incoherently as her pulsating contractions precipitate Draco's release. He surrenders to pure sensation with a guttural groan, clutching Hermione tightly to his torso as she teeters drowsily in the aftermath of their colossal detonation.

When his heart stops threatening to torpedo his rib cage and he can breathe without gulping like a fish out of water, Draco gingerly shifts Hermione's exhausted form to lie beside him, tucking her back to his front as he pulls the bedding from beneath them, before drawing the covers over them both. Hermione grumbles unintelligibly when Draco reaches out to manually turn off both bedside lamps. She settles quickly, snuggling back into him as he cautiously wraps his right arm around her.

Despite the amazingly powerful feeling of relaxed euphoria singing through his blissfully exhausted body, sleep eludes Draco for the time being. He frowns into the darkness as Hermione slumbers peacefully next to him, her warmth bringing him both comfort and unease.

I'm in way over my head, he finally admits to himself.