Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Good Girl, Gryffindor Girl, one third of the Golden Trio, made her way through the many winding corridors of the Slytherin dungeon. It was the worst part of Hogwarts, or so Hermione thought. Gripping her wand tightly in her hand, she kept her eyes open for rule breakers.
Checking her watch once more, Hermione saw the time was close to eleven o’clock, nearly two hours after curfew. Even though the seventh years had a curfew of ten, most ended their nights in their common rooms. She passed by the stone wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, shuddering when she thought of the fact that there would have been more than fifty Slytherin’s in the common room. Saturday nights were popular for parties and from the music and laughter emitted from the Slytherin Common room, Hermione guessed they were in the middle of one of their parties.
Not caring, Hermione walked off in the direction of the stairs, eager to get to bed to get up the next morning nice and early. As she made her way to the stairs, she didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching her every moves. She didn’t see him lick his lips, whisper a profound word and most of all, she didn’t notice his hands sneak out of the shadows to capture her and pull her into the alcove.
“Let me go!” Hermione shouted, pushing against the hands that held her. Soft hands, soft but calloused. And that chest. Hard, strong. Pushing against him again and again, she found herself coming into contact with his arms, muscled arms. Most likely a Quidditch player.
"Were you looking for something, ma cher?" his husky voice whispered in her ear, hands which were lightly calloused touching her waist gently. Hermione gasped in a breath, holding her mouth closed. Letting a small enough sigh loose would just edge him on. He raised his hands, touching the underside of her breast with his fingers lightly. Hermione let her sigh out.
He chuckled softly, lifting her shirt gently, his hands touching her soft skin under her beasts. Hermione raised her hands for the first time and tried to tug her shirt down.
"I was merely looking, ma patite. Is that a crime?" his breath tickled her ear, as he removed her hands and held both her wrists in his right hand, his left hand inching up her white blouse. “Such soft skin, ma cher, did you know you had such lustful skin?”
“Don’t…please….not here,” she whimpered, no longer being able to hold in her breath. It came out in a heavy sigh. This only edged him on more. Slowly, he unbuttoned the small pearl white buttons from the holes, her top parting, and her bound breasts now coming into his view.
“Beautiful, ma cher,” he whispered again, searching for the clasp. As he did so, his lips finally fell on hers, kissing her gently, yet hard. His tongue sneaked into her mouth, hers reaching out to meet his also. He finally found the clasp, undoing it from the front, her breasts being released from their constraints. “Mmm, like fresh peaches.”
Lowering his mouth to her breasts, he pulled ne hardened nipple into his mouth. Hermione gasped, arched her back and groaned. It felt so good. And here he was, sucking on her nipple and it felt oh so good. His hand was on her hip, pulling her close against him. Slowly, he lowered his hand, sneaking it under her skirt and pushing against the soft skin. “So soft, ma patite.” Hermione moaned. “Tell me you want me to touch you, love. I won’t unless you want this.”
Hermione didn’t know how to feel. How was she supposed to feel? This stranger was touching her so intimately, and it aroused her senses so much! Groaning, she grabbed his hand and held it against her heated flesh. “Please…touch me.”
“You have no idea, how much I have dreamed of you saying those words to me, ma cher! I have dreamed of you every night, wanted this, wanted you. And now, you’re letting that dream come true. Thank you love.” He kissed her again; wound her arms around his neck and slipping two fingers into her moist heat. Hermione arched. “Ahh!” It felt so good, and Hermione knew that she would explode. He explored her deeper, more fingers joining his two lone digits. He stopped, however, when he felt the barrier stopping his penetration.
“My love, a virgin? Well, that changes everything,” he whispered, continuing to stroke her.
“W-What do y-you mean?” she panted, feeling her orgasm fill her. As he stroked her, she felt it begin to build again.
“Instead of taking you in this corridor, as was my original plan, I have to wait until I can get you on a soft bed, surrounded by rose petals. Instead of standing, you will be laying, below me, loving every second of my penetration.”
“W-we can s-still have t-that,” she whispered as she rode out her second orgasm.
“No, sweetness. I will not treat you like any ordinary whore. You deserve love, fireplaces, roses, bath oils, a soft bed and me between your legs naked. That, my sweet, is not going to happen tonight.”
Slowly, he pulled his fingers from beneath her panties, licking them gently. “Mmm, tastes like peaches.” Hermione blushed, not being able to see him but still loving the sound of his voice. Slowly, he did up her bra and top, fixing her up so that she looked presentable.
“Goodnight, ma cher, I will see you again, but until then,” he whispered, lowering his ear to her ear. Kissing her cheek softly he smiled, “Ma patite.”
There it was again. Those magical words coming out of his mouth in that romantic language.
With a final whisper in her ear, he pushed her forward. She stumbled on her feet for a second before she turned to face him. Gone. The alcove was empty. How had he done that?
His words rang in her ears as she made her way upstairs.
“Until we meet again, ma cher.”
It had been three days since Hermione had been taken in the alcove. And in those three days and nights, she had dreamt of him. Him. It was so horrible, not knowing the name of her secret lover. Was that right? Could she call him a lover, when in the beginning she had been so scared that she wished she could have passed out? Yes, she encouraged herself, he was a lover. Only a lover would touch her the way he did, softly, gently. Like glass.
And the words he spoke to her. His wonderful musky voice sending chills down her spine when he whispered his words of love to her with the French romantic words. She remembered the feeling she got when he entered her, his words, “Mademoiselle, you fill me with fire. Oh my ma patite how I want to hold you forever.”
"I have missed you these past days,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, his mouth close to her ear.
“As have I, ma cher, as have I." He held her silently for a moment before gently holding her at arms length to take a good look at her. Even though she could not see him, he could see her. Gone were the robes, the jeans and the white blouse. Instead, his eyes were graced with the sight of her in a light summer dress, soft simple sandals on her feet. It was a vision of Hermione Granger that he thought he would never see.
“I have a confession to make,” she whispered, touching his face. He pulled them back further into the alcove, hiding them both in complete darkness. “I feel as though I have, for some strange reason, a reason I cannot understand, fallen in love with you.”
He stiffened. Loved him? She loved him? Pulling away, he turned from her, thinking of the current situation. Hidden in the darkness, he contemplated his situation. This wonderful, beautiful, brilliant witch loved him. She shared her soul with him, her love and her heart. But why was he hesitating?
"What is it? What is wrong?" she asked, coming forward, reaching for him and finally finding his shoulder, which he had squared in an attempt to hide his fright.
"Mon amour,” he whispered, turning and pulling her into his arms, “You cannot love me. These are still dangerous times.”
“What do you mean? Voldemort is dead.”
“I do not mean him. I mean here, this place. There are so many whom wish to bring the fall of the Golden Trio, some from my house. You are one third of that trio, Hermione, and I know that if they found out about us, they would hurt you in spite of my warnings.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What we share, together and alone, is wonderful, mon amour, but outside of this alcove, outside of these walls, we can never be together.” He ran his hand over her hair gently. “I cannot love you, for I will become to attached to you, but I can promise that no harm will ever come to you.”
“So, this is the end of our love?”
“Hermione, I promise you, upon pain of death, that I will watch over you. I will watch when you wake, I will be there when you laugh, when you smile, when you’re sad,” he replied, feeling his heart break when he heard her begin to cry. He raised his hands and began to kiss away her tears, his hands holding onto her face.
He stood staring at her silently for a short time, seemingly weighing his words before he spoke.
“You must be strong,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms again, “You will love again. After tonight you must not think of me ever again. Promise me.”
“No.”
“Promise me, Hermione,” he said, shaking her arms gently, “It is too dangerous to lust after me.”
“So you won’t even try?” she whispered, gripping onto his arms. “You were the one who started this affair. You are the one who gripped my heart and decided the way that it should venture. You are the one who makes my knees weak.”
“I understand that, my love,” he replied, “and I should never have started this, but you intrigue me, you make me feel a kind of lust I have never felt for a woman before.” She searched his gaze questioningly, almost afraid of what she would find there, only to find it hadn't changed.
“You do love me,” she whispered, “and yet you don’t have the fucking nerve to say it to me.” She wrenched her arms from his grip, pulling away from him quickly. “Well screw you. I don’t need this pain in my heart.”
“Hermione please-”
“No, just…stay here in your alcove and grab another girl who will have her heart broken. As far as I am concerned, I am done with you. You have your wish. I will no longer think of you.”
She turned on her heel and left the alcove, retreating back to the Gryffindor common room.
He stood there for another ten minutes, gripped with the pain that hurt him so much. The sound of foot steps approaching. Wiping away the one single tear that was on his cheek, he stepped out of the alcove and into the light.
“Is it ended?” the person said, his black hair glistening from the oil lamps above. Serverus Snape looked down at his student, glaring. “Well? Answer me boy.”
Looking up at his teacher, his godfather, his friend, his mother’s lover, Draco Malfoy glared before answering, “Yes, it’s done.”
Fin
Of course it was going to be Draco. Who else would it be! Lol. I tried to make him as in character as I could and I apologies if I didn’t. Anyway, I hope it was enjoyed. I had fun with this one. Just so you all know, I wasn’t originally going to write part 2, but I thought I ought to, to keep you all happy.
