Girls on Boys
Hermione had never been so simultaneously excited and horrified by her own behavior before, not even when she set Professor Snapes robes on fire in her first year. While breaking the rules wasn’t exactly new to her, she always maintained a certain degree of poise and class throughout. She was one of the golden trio, dubbed ‘the smartest witch of her age’ for Merlin’s sake, on her way to becoming minister of magic if she played her cards right. She always said the right things, always dressed the way she was expected to, and most definitely didn’t drink too much at parties and act in anyway unladylike. Which leads to the question, what on earth was she doing dancing on one of the tables in the Slytherin common room during one of the biggest parties of the year, locking eyes with the very handsome, very off limits (at least to the Gryffindor princess) Theodore Nott?
Well, to find the answer to that, we’ll have to rewind six hours;
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Gryffindor had just lost the quidditch championship game of the season to Slytherin, and none of the players had taken it well, including Ron, Hermione’s boyfriend, who had stormed off the field before Hermione could find him to offer him girlfriendly comfort. So instead, she found herself creeping along the halls outside the Gryffindor common room, looking in the area a few other Gryffindors had claimed they had seen Ron last.
Hermione turned a tight corner and saw a flash of red in her peripheral, so quick she almost missed it. Turning back to the alcove, she settled her eyes on Ron mashing his mouth against the lips of Lavender Brown. Their hands were tangled around each other’s bodies, desperately clawing at any clothing they could reach.
Frozen in shock, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her, Hermione did what she always did when facing a problem she didn’t know how to solve, break it down into logical, manageable steps, and come up with a course of action to rectify the issue. Ron was emotional after the big loss to Slytherin, they could move past this brief slip in judgment. Obviously, no one else could know, and Ron would have to stop talking to Lavender, but the relationship was salvageable. She took a deep breath; she could fix this.
“Lav…” Ron moaned into the blonde girls mouth.
Lav? Lav?! Are you fucking kidding me? “Lav” was not the nickname you called someone during an emotionally charged one off snog. Suddenly things started to click into place in Hermione’s head, the longing stares across the Gryffindor table in the great hall that Hermione had just convinced herself was her own paranoia. The nights Ron would disappear, only to return looking thoroughly ruffled, claiming DA training with Harry, who would nervously corroborate Ron’s story before darting off.
Suddenly Hermione saw red. How could she be such an idiot? Her boyfriend was playing her like a fiddle and her “best friend” was helping him. How fucking dare they? They never would have survived as long as they had without her holding their hands every step of the way. The countless nights she had spent pouring over books in the library so that they would always have an edge in whatever situation they would find themselves in next. Fuck, she had endured torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and still had the scar to prove it, all to protect the boy who fucking lived, who thanked her by willingly lying to her and covering for his creep of a sidekick while he fucked Lavender fucking Brown of all people.
No. No. She wouldn’t cover this up. Not for them, not anymore. Why should they be able to go out and act however they want, with whomever they want, and nobody bats an eye? No, it’s not fair. She could have fun too, given the chance.
Inspiration struck Hermione like lightning, and she found herself whipping around and running back towards the Gryffindor common room without spending a single second longer looking at Ron and Lavender.
Hermione ran through the corridors, only stopping to snap the password to the fat lady, who gave her a scathing look before opening and granting her entry. She burst into the common room, relieved to find it empty except for the exact person she was looking for, who was curled up in one of the armchairs reading a book.
Ginny Weasley looked up at Hermione in alarm.
“Hermione! Are you alright? You look like you just outran a herd of angry centaurs!”
“I’m fine Ginny, better than fine, in fact, I need to borrow a dress.”
Ginny’s face twisted in confusion. “Since when does Hermione Granger wear dresses?’
“Since I caught your brother snogging Lavender Brown not just 5 minutes ago.”
Ginny’s look of confusion morphed into one of rage, her face turning almost as red as her hair. “That arsehole, I’ll have Fred and George knock him into next week. What a tosser. Oh Hermione, are you okay?”
“I will be once you lend me a dress and go to the Slytherin victory party with me.”
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So here she found herself, dressed in one of Ginny’s dresses, which was the shortest thing she had ever worn in her life. Gryffindor red silk clung to her body, stopping just above mid thigh. Ginny had insisted she borrow a pair of red heels to match the dress, much to Hermione’s chagrin, but now she was grateful, because in the low light of the Slytherin common room and after a few firewhiskey shooters, Hermione felt sexy, which was entirely new feeling to her.
Ginny dragged her by her hand to one of the tables, where she proceeded to climb on top of and started to dance, motioning with her finger for Hermione to join.
“Ginny, I can’t do… that” she insisted, emphasizing with her hands what exactly that was. Ginny was beautiful, and confident, nobody blinked an eye when Ginny danced on tables. But Hermione… she couldn’t.
“Yes, you can, you don’t give yourself enough credit, plus, look around you, everyone else is dancing.”
Hermione glanced around her; everyone was dancing. She took a deep breath, fuck it, tonight was about doing things she wanted to do, no matter what anyone else thought.
She climbed up onto the table with Ginny, glancing around nervously to see if anyone had turned to look at them. Everyone was still dancing, paying no mind to the bookworm. Ginny Accio’d two firewhiskey shooters from across the room, which landed gracefully in their outstretched hands.
“To being single” announced Ginny, raising her shooter.
“To being single” repeated Hermione before clinking her glass against Ginny’s and downing the burning liquid, feeling the warmth spread through her body.
The music was pumping loudly, and the alcohol was making her feel so damned relaxed. She started to sway her body along with Ginny’s, letting her heart take control for once instead of her brain. She reached up and took out her hair tie, letting her wild curls break free and began to dance in earnest.
She swayed her hips and felt her dress rise an inch along with her body, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. She raised her arms above her head and twisted her waist along with the beat, and she could no longer tell which was hammering in her chest louder, the bass or her heart. She felt Ginny snake her arms around her waist, and Hermione rubbed her body against hers in earnest. The girls danced with abandon, letting the music take them away.
“I think you have an admirer” said Ginny, breaking the trance Hermione had found herself in.
Without pausing their dancing, Hermione turned her gaze to where Ginny was looking, only to lock eyes with none other than Theodore Nott. He was standing across the room, holding a glass with some sort of amber liquid at the bottom, looking ravishing in a black button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And Ginny was right, he was most definitely staring at her.
He took a long pull from his glass before making his way through the sea of dancing bodies, headed straight for her. Hermione couldn’t find the will to look away, holding eye contact until he was only a foot away, looking up at her as she danced on the table. He held out his hand to her, which she took and allowed him to help her down from the table while she stared into his eyes, transfixed.
“What is the Gryffindor princess doing dancing on a sticky table in the Slytherin dungeons?’ he asked in a deliciously low voice.
“I’m not the Gryffindor princess…” Hermione stammered out.
Theo arched one of his brows, clearly skeptical.
“At least not tonight I’m not” added Hermione quickly.
“What are you tonight then?” he asked.
“Free” Hermione breathed, adrenaline coursing through her just from saying the words aloud to someone other than herself.
Theo stared into Hermione’s eyes with an intensity that was unnerving, he seemed to be mulling over her statement. His face moved a fraction of an inch closer to her lips. Oh lord, he wasn’t going to kiss her, was he?
Suddenly his face broke into a smile, with teeth white enough to blind in the right light.
“Freedom… I like the sound of that” he announced before grabbing Hermione’s hand and dragging her to the dancefloor, ditching his glass on a random table they passed. Hermione desperately craned her neck to find Ginny, only to find her friend smirking right back at her and giving her the thumbs up. Fuck.
She turned back around to find Theo shoving a firewhiskey shooter into her palm.
He leaned forward and placed his lips against the shell of her ear, “to freedom…” he whispered just loud enough to be heard over the thumping music, sending a shiver down her spine.
She met his eyes and mimicked his movements, downing their shots at the same time.
With an impressive show of wandless magic, Theo disappeared their shot glasses with a wave of his palm, before using that very same palm to twirl Hermione around so that her back was pushed up flush against his hard stomach. He wrapped his long arms around her waist and started swaying to the music.
Fear gripped her, and she froze in his arms. People would see, she would surely make a fool of herself.
“Dance with me princess” he purred in her ear teasingly.
Arsehole. He was baiting her, and it was working, she could feel red hot anger strike her like a bolt of lightning.
She stretched her arms over her shoulders, reached back and gripped his hair, pulling his head down so that it was resting on her shoulder, his cheekbone flush against her jaw from behind.
“I’m not a princess” she growled, grinding her backside against his front, accepting his challenge.
He groaned at the contact, twirling her back around to face him. “Whatever the princess says” he teased.
Not one to be antagonized, she wrapped her arms around his neck in defiance, pulling her body flush up against his, moving her body with the rhythm of the song that was playing. Theo ran his hands up and down her waist while they danced, both getting lost within one another as the music thrummed through their veins. Hermione bounced and swayed, letting the music take control, never letting go of Theo’s strong neck, and he in turn cradled her every step of the way.
This. This was freedom, and it all started with a broken heart.
After they both worked up a sweat, Theo stopped dancing, grabbed her hand once again and lead her to the booze table. He picked up two firewhiskey shooters and offered one to her, which she gladly accepted with a Cheshire cat grin plastered on her face.
“So, what happened that caused the golden girl to ditch Tweedledee and Tweedledum and wander into the Slytherin dungeons in search of some strange?” Theo joked, downing his own shot without flinching in the slightest.
Hermione gagged down her own shot, hoping it would give her the strength to be brave and tell the truth.
“Tweedledum has been sticking it to Lavender Brown” she huffed.
Theo’s face dropped and got very serious, “Oh shit, that’s not funny, I’m sorry”.
Something about the sympathy in Theo’s face made Hermione see red. She didn’t want sympathy. She was Hermione fucking Granger, smartest witch of her age. Ron Weasley cheating was not a tragedy for HER, and people seeing it as such was just plain offensive.
“I didn’t come to this party to have people feel sorry for me” she bit out through gritted teeth.
“Then why did you come to this party?” he asked.
“To prove to Ron that he isn’t the only one that can have fun” she responded instantly.
“But Ron isn’t here” he retorted, looking around him at the party goers, “… so why are you really here?” he challenged, leveling her once again with his piercing stare.
Looking into his ocean blue eyes was like swallowing a mouthful of veritaserum, it felt as though he was looking into her soul, she didn’t dare lie.
“I needed to escape my life, if even just for a night” she breathed, shocking herself with the truth spilling from her lips to a Slytherin of all people.
Theo grabbed two more shooters before placing his palm against the small of Hermione’s back and leading her to the corridor that exited out of the Slytherin common room.
Against her better judgement, Hermione allowed herself to be herded down the hallway. What the fuck was she doing? This was Theodore Nott, yes he’s handsome, but he’s a Slytherin, and son to one of the most notorious Death Eaters in history. The only thing louder in the echoey hallway than her panicked breathing was her brain screaming at her that this was a bad idea. But a little voice was whispering “just go with it” somewhere in the back of her mind, and for some inexplicable reason, she did exactly that.
They reached the transfiguration courtyard, and he steered her into a dark isolated alcove, where he sat on a loveseat carved into the stone walls of the castle and motioned for her to sit next to him.
She sat stiffly, placing her hands awkwardly in her lap.
Theo passed her one of the shots, clinking his against hers once she took hold of the offered libation. They emptied the glass tubes in silence, both caught up in their thoughts. Theo pulled out a cigarette from one of his pockets, lit it with wandless magic, took a deep inhale, and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the cool fall air. All was quiet as they watched the smoke curl up into the air above them and slowly dissipate.
“I know what you mean” Theo said, shattering the silence between them.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked warily.
“About wanting to escape your life, even just for a while” he responded, bringing the cigarette back to his lips for another deep pull.
Hermione scoffed loudly; he was clearly fucking with her.
Theo pinned Hermione with his icy gaze once again, looking so serious that Hermione immediately dropped the attitude.
“What? You think I’m joking?” he challenged.
“Well… yes…” she retorted. “Filthy rich, pureblood, popular, and as if just to prove how unfair life is, stupidly good looking” she rattled off.
Theo cocked his head incredulously.
“For the supposed smartest witch of our age, you sure are daft” he interrupted.
Hermione sucked in a breath mid-sentence, caught off guard by his audacity, but the interruption caused the desired effect, he had officially managed to shut her up.
“You think you’re the only one weighed down by the expectations of those around them?” he continued, taking another puff off his cigarette.
“Your right, I’m pure blood, part of the sacred 28 to be specific. I must follow and adhere to the expectations of multiple generations of the noble house of Nott” he said venomously, his tone oozing with sarcastic enthusiasm.
“From the day I was born, my whole life was planned out for me, everything from my career, the woman I will marry, even my future children’s names. Not to mention, do you think it was a picnic growing up with a psychopath as a father? Yeah, don’t pretend not to know what my father is. It was no secret he was Voldemort’s right-hand man.”
Theo sighed and his facial features softened before he continued, “you’re not the only one drowning Granger” he mumbled before bringing the cigarette back to his lips.
Hermione was overcome with emotion. She felt, for the first time in a long time, that someone understood her. Their situations weren’t the same, but she couldn’t help but draw parallels. Hermione was trapped, but so was Theo. At the end of the day, chains are chains. Take away the why, and the shackles are identical.
She reached up and pulled the cigarette away from his lips, tossing it somewhere to her right.
“What are you d-“ he began.
She cut him off by pressing her lips to his. She was met with the taste of smoke and spice; the firewhiskey still clinging to his lips.
He hesitated for only a second, adjusting to the surprising change in plans, before he opened his mouth and invited her tongue in by stroking it with his own.
Hermione moaned into his mouth and he responded by bringing his hand up to cradle her face, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and drawing her face harder into his own, deepening the kiss.
She inhaled his scent through her nose, something distinctly masculine that made her dizzy. It was intoxicating. His hand that wasn’t tangled in her hair came to rest on her upper thigh, and the skin-on-skin contact caused her brain to go completely blank for a moment.
She had spent plenty of nights being groped by Ron, but nothing made her as breathless as Theo was in this moment. He wrapped his large hand around her hip and pulled her up until she on top of him straddling his lap, and she let him.
Hermione threaded her fingers through his curly brown hair, her nails scratching against his scalp as she pressed her mouth into his with searing intensity. Theo groaned into her mouth, pulling her hips down onto his lap hard. She could feel his excitements underneath her thighs, and she shivered with anticipation.
Hermione had never done anything like this, and the adrenaline was liberating. No, Hermione Granger wasn’t a virgin, but she would never be caught dead doing anything untoward in an alcove. She was the golden girl; she had a reputation to uphold.
But this. She had never felt freer than she did in that moment. Tipsy, with the cold fall air nipping at her exposed arms and legs, straddling a kindred spirit. It was addicting, she was tasting freedom, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to wake up tomorrow and go back to her life. The thought made her eyes sting with unshed tears, but she knew that this was her reality. At least she had tonight, and she was going to make it count.
She pulled away from Theo, who was panting just as hard as she was. “More” she breathed against his face.
His eyebrows shot up, “are you sure?” he asked.
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes taking in all his features. “I have no idea what I’m sure of anymore, but this, I want this” she said before leaning back in and kissing him. Theo matched her intensity before he slipped his hands up her thighs and under the hem of her dress. He roughly dragged his fingers up her hips and along her back, pressing her firmly against his chest.
Without breaking the kiss, Theo dragged his hands back down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers, helping her awkwardly remove them without getting off of his lap. As soon as her knickers were off, she ground down against his erection hard, so close yet still so far. He groaned and reached down, and Hermione could hear the sound of his zipper, and all of sudden she could feel him lining himself up at her entrance.
He broke the kiss and looked at her, “last chance to take it back” he offered.
“Never” Hermione breathed, lowering herself down on him, taking all of him inside of her in one go. She moaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder, digging her nails into his shoulders, it had been a few months since her and Ron had last been intimate, and Theo must be considerably larger. While the stretch was a bit uncomfortable, it was also so fucking delicious.
“Fuuckkkk” Theo hissed and tightened his hold on her hips, she was sure she would have bruises later, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.
Hermione moved her hips experimentally, relieved to feel that most of the discomfort had passed, which drew a groan from Theo mouth.
“Just like that sweetheart” he encouraged as she began to move a little faster, rocking her hips on his lap as he slipped in and out of her. She felt so full, so content.
His hands slipped up her back, stroking her skin as she rode him, leaving trails of fire along her skin. Hermione leaned away from Theo and arched her back whilst still rolling her hips, letting Theo support her weight with one of his strong arms. She raised her arms above her head and tangled her fingers in her wild curls, letting herself get lost in the pleasure coursing through her veins.
She gazed at Theo through half lidded eyes, who was hungerly staring at her arched back and heaving chest. He lifted his gaze to her own and she could see the lust written all over his face, his pupils were blown wide; gone were the icy blue irises. Her pleasure was building, and along with it her sense of power. Here she was, bookwork extraordinaire, a woman scorned; but instead of crying in her dorm, she was in the arms of easily the most handsome boy in Hogwarts. Power, this was a new feeling. She liked it.
She closed her eyes and threw her head back, submitting herself to the sensations thrumming through her veins. She could feel him wrapping the hand that wasn’t supporting her back around her slim neck, where he applied the slightest bit of pressure for a moment before releasing and stroking his hand down her chest and between her breasts.
“You’re so sexy” he breathed, and she laughed, she couldn’t help herself. That had to be the first time someone had ever used that adjective to describe her. Who knew, this whole time all she had to do was stop giving a fuck.
Suddenly Theo wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her, walking them over to the closest wall, where he deposited her against the stones, using his body to keep her in place. He began thrusting into her a punishing pace, and she couldn’t control the loud moan that escaped her mouth.
He slapped his palm over her mouth, effectively silencing her moan.
“We can’t have any of that, princess” he teased.
She couldn’t tell him to fuck off with his hand over her mouth, so she leveled him with a frosty glare instead.
“I know I know, you’re not a princess, so you’ve said” he said with an eye roll. “But considering I’m about 8 inches inside of you, I’d say you’re in no position to say otherwise, I think I’ll call you whatever I damn please” he said with a smug grin.
Before she could protest further, he snapped his hips particularly hard, and she reflexively threw her arms around his shoulders instead.
“That’s right baby, hold on to me” he said huskily while pistoning into her relentlessly.
She could feel her orgasm building, Theo was hitting a sweet spot inside of her that she hadn't even known existed. She could feel herself contracting around him, and her vision was blurring at the edges.
Apparently Theo could feel her oncoming orgasm as well, because he groaned and picked up his pace. “That’s it, come for me baby, come on my cock” he growled.
His filthy words tipped her over the edge, and she orgasmed harder than she ever had before. She saw stars and screamed into his palm, her body convulsing under his strong grip. She could feel his pace becoming erratic, her vice grip around his prick pulling his own orgasm out of him as well.
He gritted his teeth and hissed as he emptied his seed inside of her, slowly pushing in and out of her as she milked him for all he was worth. Sweat trickled down each of their face and necks, even with the cold air biting at their skin.
Hermione became limp within his hold, depleted of energy, but his strong arms kept her in place. They both panted, attempting to catch their breath after their rigorous transgressions.
Theo slipped himself out of her and she could feel his warm seed leak down her thigh. He gently loosened his grip on her and lowered her to the floor, using his free hand to wipe some of her curls off of her sweaty face.
“So the golden girls got a golden cunt, huh, who would have guessed?” he joked.
She slapped his arm, giving him a scathing look.
“I jest I jest” he laughed, playfully rubbing the spot on his arm that she had slapped.
Their tryst was over, but neither could bring themselves to turn away. They both knew they had shared something that was deeper than just sex, they had shared an understanding, if even for just a night. Both had shared their unspoken truths, surprised to find that they were both drowning in the same body of water.
Hermione was the first to break the silence, “tomorrow we have to go back to hating each other” she said, trying to keep the disappointment from showing.
“I know” he replied while nodding, and she could see the sadness on his face.
They both spent another minute taking in each other’s features. Hermione Granger, the curly haired book worm, the Gryffindor princess, the golden girl, a mudblood, girlfriend of Ron Weasley, best friend to Harry Potter the chosen one, future Minister for Magic. Theodore Nott, son of a Death Eater, from a broken home, Slytherin, pureblood. But in that moment, they were just two lost souls that found each other in the night.
“See you around Granger?”
“See you around Nott”