Hermione/the Malfoy men
Hermione was halfway through her cup of coffee when a parcel wrapped in shiny green paper was placed rather pertinently down in the middle of her café table. She looked up to see a wind-swept Scorpius Malfoy standing beside her, looking for all the world like she’d wronged him.
“What’s this?” she asked, eyes flicking to the gift then back up.
He huffed, the expression expanding at her unfussed reaction. “A present, obviously.”
She lifted a brow along with her mug, sipping demurely. She saw the way the casual action brought out a tint of rose in the hollows of his cheeks. “For me?”
He looked like he half-regretted it already but he was a Malfoy, so didn’t back down. “Yes, for you. I tried to give it to you yesterday but when I came back, you were gone.”
She raised both brows at that. It wasn’t often she got gifts after sex; they were usually perceived as the ticket in.
“But only good girls get presents.” She blinked up at him innocently and then let her expression slip into coy. “And I’m not a good girl, am I?”
He faltered, mouth opening then snapping shut. “You are to me,” he tried and she almost laughed at the hopeful look on his face.
She sighed instead. “You’re sweet. But Scorpius, I’m sorry to tell you that good girls won’t do the things I do to you. And even beyond that, there’s the fact that only a year ago, I was your professor. That’s not a dynamic good girls strive for.” She tilted her head, keeping her eyes on him as she wet her lower lip with a slow drag. “And let’s not forget the most damning evidence of all: I can still taste your daddy on my tongue.”
As she’d expected, Scorpius glowered. He knew about her arrangement with his father – it had been after one of those sessions that he’d first cornered her in the Manor corridor and asked what it would take for her to offer him a similar arrangement, after all – but he didn’t like sharing. Malfoy men and their possessive steak, she thought with amusement. Draco was the same way. But it was so fun to make them sweat and beg over their pleas for fidelity, knowing that she’d never let them tie her down.
“And even beyond that,” she carried on, voice dropping to sultry. “I know what your granddaddy’s cock feels like inside me. It’s been years, of course, but I’ll never forget the stretch.”
His expression darkened further and she smirked at him over the rim of her cup, taking another prim sip. She considered him for a moment.
“Is that what this is about? You think you’re owed me? Like some sort of fucked up Malfoy legacy?”
He tightened his jaw, suddenly even more the spitting image of his father. It made her wonder what it would take to get both of them into bed at the same time. She hummed to herself. She’d bring it up with Draco next time he was so close he begging her for it; saying he’d do anything to be allowed to come. She wasn’t against a little manipulation while under duress to get her way; not anymore.
“I don’t think that about you,” Scorpius grit out, frustrated. “I like you.”
She clucked her tongue sympathetically. “No, I don’t think so.”
His brows dipped in a flash of confusion. “What do you mean? I do. It’s not up to you to decide that.”
She cleared her throat, sitting forward and setting her cup down. “What’s in the parcel?”
He glanced at it, his momentum thrown off by her change in topic. “Oh, just…something I thought you’d like.” His blush spread.
The edges of her mouth twitched. He was so fucking cute.
“Would you like me to open it now?” She looped an index finger around the little curl of ribbon decorating the top. “So that I can say thank you to you?”
He watched her finger twirl. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat when the word caught. “Yes please.”
She tilted her head to the empty chair and he accepted her invitation, drawing it back and sitting. She undid the wrappings and worked the box open, finding a lovely, soft scarf inside.
“Oh, isn’t this beautiful?” She stroked the material and gave Scorpius a real smile. “Thank you. I really do like it.”
He licked his lips, eating up her reaction with hungry eyes. “You’re very welcome.”
He was watching her with an intensity she’d learned to read decades ago, expert in the inner workings of the Malfoy psyche as she’d become. They liked giving gifts because they liked a proper thank you.
“Here?” she inquired lightly, and was pleased when he nodded without hesitation. Under the table, she felt his knee knock hers as he spread his thighs slightly. She slipped her shoe off, lifting her stockinged foot to his lap and mapping the way he’d already tented his trousers.
She clucked her tongue with faux-disapproval and felt him twitch under her foot, jaw feathering.
“Tell me, Scorpius,” she murmured. “What am I?”
She stroked him with her arch, twisting her ankle to give him a light squeeze around the head with her toes.
“You’re a bad girl,” he muttered, head falling back slightly on his nape, eyes lidded as he looked at her.
She bit her lip, just to tease him further, and nodded. “Mm. That’s right.”
She stroked him again, all the way down to his balls, where she applied a little pressure. He bit his lip and she grinned.
“But I’m keeping the scarf.”