Vial of Liquid Mors
Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her closer to him, spinning her so her backside was pressed against his front. She gasped as her back hit his chest and he took her moment of distraction to wrap one arm tightly across her waist while the other pushed her curls off her neck.
“I don’t like the way everyone is looking at you,” he growled in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
“I’m wearing a short dress in the club, Draco. You knew how everyone would look at me. Besides,” she added, reaching up to rake her nails into his hair from the nape of his neck, sending goosebumps across his arms. “You’re the one who asked me to wear green.”
He couldn’t help it. The image of Hermione Granger wearing a shimmering, Slytherin green dress was entirely enticing.
He didn’t expect it to be flowy, with two cutouts running from the bottom of the dress - that only barely hit the tops of her thighs - to just below her waist. It was short, so short if she moved too quickly - which she was - you were easily able to see her delicious ass. The golden heels and snake necklace were her own touch, but he knew, deep down, that she knew what she was doing to him.
The Vial of Liquid Mors was in the club somewhere, but the only way in was through, forcing Hermione to put on the sinful dress and Draco to switch from his usual suit to black jeans and a tight black t-shirt.
However, with Granger dancing on him, all attention on her with him, he suddenly didn’t care about the vial. He wanted to mark his territory, show her off, keep her on him. His teeth lightly scraped down her neck, leaving light pink trails in their wake. When he landed at the base of her neck he began sucking on her skin, desperate to stake his claim.
Hermione pushed her ass further against him as they continued dancing and leaned into his lips. “Jealous, Draco?” she whispered to him.
“Always,” he replied, kissing from the fresh bruise he’d left up towards her ear. He was about to suggest they fuck off to somewhere slightly more private when someone cleared their throat. Draco turned his head to glare daggers at whoever dared to interrupt him.
Cormac fucking McLaggen stood in front of them, his eyes shamelessly looking over Hermione’s body in her dress. Draco felt her subtle shift in demeanor and pulled her even tighter against him.
“Hermione, you look absolutely delectable tonight,” he said, ignoring Draco’s hands, hickey, and growl.
“Cormac, what an unwelcome surprise,” Hermione replied, voice dripping with uninterest.
“It’d be a shame for you to waste that dress, gorgeous. Come and dance with me,” he held out a hand.
Draco growled even louder and Cormac’s eyes quickly glanced at him. “McLaggen. Fuck off.” His hand trailed up from Hermione’s waist, splaying across her ribcage and lightly pressing under her breast causing his arm to band around her. His other hand slipped underneath the slit in her dress to rest dangerously high on her thigh.
“Malfoy,” Cormac smirked and Draco felt his hands flex and searing possessiveness ran through him. “I didn’t see you there. Be a good mate, share the pretty girl.”
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Granger beat him to it. “McLaggen,” she seethed. “I understand how you may be feeling jealous, I mean, Draco is so much smarter, funnier, handsome, well-read, and compatible with me than you are. I can only imagine how much better in bed he is than you are. But I don’t share, and neither does he.”
“Please,” Cormac’s tone switched to attempt menace, his eyes were cutting. “All he views you as is a Mudblood toy. You’d be better off with-”
Draco didn’t remember letting go of Hermione or swinging at Cormac. All he remembered was the ever-satisfying crunch of Cormac’s nose breaking when he made contact and the rush it gave him to shove him on the floor. McLaggen fell back and Draco straightened, beckoning security to escort him out of the club.
“You’ll be sorry, Malfoy,” Cormac called over his shoulder as he was pushed out.
“Doubtful,” he spit out, turning to check on Hermione.
It was foolish of him to think she would be anything but cool, calm, and collected. She, in fact, looked like she wanted to eat him as she licked her lips, a sly smirk growing on her face. Still, Draco took the opportunity to run her hands over her, pulling her close as he asked, “Are you alright, love?”
“I am,” she said, running her hands up his chest. “But… maybe we should head to the loo. Let me clean you up.”
Draco cocked an eyebrow as she led him toward the women’s restroom while loudly making a fuss about the blood covering his knuckles. When they were tucked inside of the cramped room, she quickly locked the door and turned to face him.
“Fuck me against the wall?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow and tilting her head.
Draco shuddered. “Gods, yes,” he groaned, making quick work to pull her into his arms. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he moved to sweep the lace coving her cunt to the side, and found her dripping.
“Shit,” he hissed, “You’re soaked.”
“Your doing,” she responded, throwing her head back and grinding against his hand as he slipped two fingers inside her, gentle movements coaxing whimpers of his name from her mouth. “Fuck, Draco, that’s it.”
Her praise sent heat straight to his cock. Between it, his name on her lips, and how she looked - head thrown back, flushed, dressed in Slytherin green - he was dying to be inside her. He quickly pulled his fingers out of her, causing her to whine in protest.
“I know baby, I know. Just one second,” he was frantically undoing his belt and pulling down his jeans. He carefully lined his cock up with her cunt and lowered her slowly onto him, taking a moment to savor the way the heat of her wrapped around him and the flutters of her cunt. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered against her neck. “I love you.”
She didn’t hear him. There’s no way she could have over the sound of her own moans. Her hands were tangled in his hair, tugging at it as if to urge him to move.
Draco didn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly maneuvered so he was able to slam into her, savoring the way her fingers felt in her and how her tits looked, bouncing in his face with each thrust.
He moved one hand from cupping her ass to move the fabric away from her breasts. Draco felt his cock twitch as he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra and eagerly sucked a nipple in his mouth, swirling it into a peak with his tongue.
Hermione shuddered against him, gasping at the contrast of the cool bathroom air and the warmth of his mouth. “Fuck Draco, keep going.”
You didn’t need to tell him twice.
He pulled away, gently blowing on her nipple and kissing it before switching to the other one to repeat the process. He slammed his hips into her harder.
“I’m close, please touch -”
“I know,” he replied, kissing her nipple. He pushed her harder against the wall so he could keep up his punishing pace as he moved a hand to her clit. With gentle, sure strokes he felt her come undone beneath her.
“Fuck, Draco!” she cried, her grip on his hair turning painful in a way he loved. As she came, her cunt clenched around his cock, grabbing it and refusing to let go, determined to milk every drop from it.
Draco felt the orgasm slam into him, startling him and forcing him to bite down on Hermione’s shoulder to muffle his cries.
Slowly coming down from the high, they both stared at each other. A smile graced Hermione’s face as she looked down at him. Draco couldn’t help but smile back. They’d never had sex in the middle of an assignment before, but he could tell he would be hard-pressed not to do it again.
“Thank you for defending my honor,” she said as he moved her from the wall to the counter. He sent her down and gently pulled his cock from her, taking a moment to collect the come that had begun dripping down her legs and gently push it back into her.
And she fucking spread her legs wider for him to do it.
He was so fucked.
She had to be his. But for now, the bruises on her neck and shoulder and a cunt full of his come would have to do.
“I’m sure you could’ve defended your own honor,” he said. “But any excuse to punch McLaggen in the face, I must take.”
Hermione laughed and Draco’s heart warmed. He gently moved her clothes back into place, ensuring she was presentable to the public waiting for them behind the bathroom door. In turn, she buckled his belt and fixed his hair so it was the perfect sort of messy - how he’d learned she preferred it.
“I thought it was hot,” she said with a blush while standing to look at herself in the mirror.
“Noted,” Draco said with a smirk, pressing kisses to the bruises he’d been leaving behind. Mine. “Should I glamour these?” Please say no.
“Leave them,” she said with a smile while reaching forward towards the soap dispenser and fumbling against the side of it.
“What -” Granger pushed a hidden button and the left furthest mirror panel slid open, revealing a small vial. “No fucking way,” Draco said in disbelief.
“One Vial of Liquid Mors, coming right up!” she said with a laugh, grabbing the bottle and placing it in her bag before the panel slid back in place. She turned to face him, their hips pressed together. “So, now that the mission is complete. Do you want to stay, or do you want to go?”
Draco studied her face, soaking her in. God, she was beautiful. He’d take an evening at the club with Granger over an evening of pining after her in his study. “We’ll stay,” he said.
Her smile grew and she looped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss and catching Draco off guard. They usually avoided kissing, it was too intimate, too personal for a casual fling. His lips automatically slotted to meet hers and his hands flew to cage her against the counter. His tongue was brushing against her bottom lip when there was a loud knock at the door.
Draco pulled back, dizzy and a bit disoriented but Granger just laughed. “One second!” she called, giving him another peck before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go dance, love.”
Draco and Hermione danced the night away. It was one of the best nights of Draco’s life made only better by the encore starting the next morning.
Draco hadn’t seen Hermione cast the exploding boils spell on Cormac but for the next three weeks, Cormac was graced with exploding boils that whispered truths about him (including I lie about my height, I don’t respect women, and I have no self-respect) every 1-2 minutes.