I tried to warn you
Hermione found herself entwined intimately with Malfoy atop their work station in a predicament that was wholly her fault.
“I tried to warn you,” he muttered, his face buried within her curls as he took deep, shuddering gasps.
She couldn’t argue. He was right.
They had agreed earlier in the week on their Advanced Potions project, one that they each had their own ideas about. The goal was to create a Draught of Immunity that specifically targeted love potions even as strong as Amortentia.
There already existed an antidote for the after effects; it was the prior protection that interested them. As far as they knew, no such countermeasure had been created.
Hermione remembered Harry describing the terrifying speed and strength that Romilda Vane’s chocolates had worked on Ron. Malfoy had his own experiences along with his fellow Slytherins checking and rechecking their meals for any love potions that might have slipped in to trick an heir out of their inheritance.
Malfoy wanted to try adding peppermint oil—he theorized that the correct dosage would render the user the self awareness needed to recognize the false feelings acting as genuine obsession.
Hermione wasn’t as easily convinced.
Using peppermint could just as easily have the opposite effect. Rather than giving the witch or wizard the ability to understand and resist, she had her own research suggesting that they would instead be more likely to form even stronger convictions in the rightness of their passion, rendering any antidote after the fact weak, or, worst case, ineffective.
But they were partners, and good partners compromised.
She agreed to let Malfoy test his theory out first, and he had strictly underlined the need for privacy during the initial stages of the potion. He’d suggested that any inhalation of the potions fumes outside of a very narrow window might result in a complete removal of inhibitions.
Hermione had said she agreed. She noted the date and time of his lab use. She understood the risks.
She was curious, damn it.
She wanted to see for herself how Malfoy intended to tackle their project. Forget notes or consultations after the fact. No matter her reputation as a walking textbook—Hermione was the sort to see firsthand to truly believe.
By all rights, neither she nor Malfoy should have been exposed. Just like him, she’d cast a Bubble-Head charm.
Unlike him, she’d chosen to wear her uniform, one that exposed her skin in numerous places: her hands and wrists, her knees between the top of her knee socks and below her regulation-length skirt, the sliver of skin exposed by her unbuttoned neckline.
She’d completely forgotten his concern that the fumes might not only be dangerous to breathe in, but to even have any part of the body exposed. He thought the chances extremely low, but hadn’t outright dismissed them.
Peeking through the doorway, the air appeared clear. She maintained her Bubble-Head charm and walked silently forward towards the young man bent over the cauldron, his back to her. She decided to lean against the neighboring station and watch him, not wanting to disrupt whatever step he was currently at.
Her ankles crossed and biting down on her lip, she ran her eyes down the length of his body.
Draco Malfoy had filled out.
Gone was the adolescent scrawniness. He looked closer to the man he was becoming rather than the boy she’d grown up next to. He wore a white lab suit that completely covered his frame, but it did nothing to hide the changes in his body. Broad shoulders. A trim waist. A bit of a bubble butt.
She didn’t question why she was seeing him in this light now despite having worked alongside him for weeks. Objectively, she’d always known he was good looking. Girls swooned. So did some of the guys. He had this smirk thing going that made her want to simultaneously scowl and clench her thighs. She just hadn’t really considered his delectable assets in such a thorough manner.
Malfoy chose that moment to turn around.
His shock at seeing her standing there caused him to jump with a curse. He fell back hard against the table, causing the stand on which the cauldron sat to wobble.
“Fucking Salazar!” He thrust his arms out in desperation.
His hands caught the pot before it could fall off the counter, and Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Malfoy moved back, revealing a substantial amount of liquid had spilled over the rim and now covered his hand and arm.
The gloves he wore would resist most damaging substances, but Hermione was still concerned about letting anything unknown linger. She rushed forward and raised her wand to cast a cleaning charm.
“Wait! Hermione—” His voice cut off the moment her spell hit.
She had only intended to clean the liquid off of him. She had instead vanished the entire sleeve of his arm and the glove.
“Just what was in that potion?” she asked, aghast at the unexpected results.
Rather than answer her, he crowded her space, pushing her back against the same station she’d leaned against.
“Malfoy, what are you—-mmmf!”
Their Bubble-Head charms canceled as his lips crashed down onto hers, hands gripping her hips so tightly she knew there’d be bruises later. His knee shoved between her thighs and pressed up against her.
Oh.
The pressure felt good.
She grinded down against the thick muscle of his thigh and tangled her tongue with his. He tasted like sweet pastry and cinnamon and bitter tea. He tasted like her fantasies come to life.
She broke her face away for air, exposing her neck to his mouth. “What is happening to us?”
His teeth nipped along her jaw, tongue flicking beneath her ear, and murmured his answer, “I tried to warn you.”
“Tried to warn me what?” She could barely think with his delicious mouth against her skin, that pressure that promisedrelease between her legs, his cool hands sliding beneath her shirt, his other glove long gone. She shivered against his touch.
“I told you not to come here. Not yet, at least.”
He continued to move south along her neck, using his cheek to push her collar open to his quest. His hands found her breasts and he massaged them at first gently, then with more force as she leaned into them seeking more friction, more skin against skin, more.
“I wanted to—” She mewled as his thumbs slipped into her bra and passed over her nipples.
“You wanted…?”
She could feel his erection hot and heavy against her hip as she continued to drive her body down onto him, chasing the throbbing pulse.
“—to see, I wanted to see what you were doing.”
He huffed against her skin, still kissing every exposed part of her body he could reach. “This shirt needs to come off.”
“Malfoy, what, unnn, is happening to us?” She closed her eyes, mouth dropping as she wound higher on the wave she was riding against his thigh.
“Our inhibitions are gone. We’re giving in to our impulses.”
Hermione was so focused on the encroaching crest of her climax that she didn’t notice his hands flipping around to grip her shirt from the inside. She was so close. She just needed a little more…
Riiiiiiiiiip.
Her shirt tore open with his forceful yank and she cried out as she finally reached the peak. She collapsed down onto the work surface as she rode out the fierce aftershocks of pleasure, and he followed her down to lay his weight wholly onto hers.
He buried his face in her hair, and his hands slipped down to cup her arse and squeeze. She could still feel his rigid cock pressing against her, reminding her that he had yet to find release.
She forced her wand between their bodies and shoved him back just far enough for her to point and slice downward.
“Diffindo.”
She cut his lab suit all the way from neckline to waist, exposing his school uniform underneath. He looked down at himself in amusement.
“Well, then.”
“Take it off.”
He shrugged off the remains of the protective layer and leaned forward as if to kiss her once more.
“Take it all off or I’ll vanish it.”
She almost laughed at the look on his face, equal parts intimidated and agog. It was a good expression on him.
She waited until he’d unbuttoned the collar and wrists of his shirt prior to tugging off the layers in one move to remove her own destroyed top. It wasn’t anything a little magic couldn’t fix. It wasn’t until he’d started undoing his bottoms that she reached behind herself to remove her bra.
Chest out.
Cock out.
They stared at one another, he at the dusky rose nipples of her breasts that would fill his hands perfectly, and her at the pale, swollen length of him, pink tip drooling with precum. She reached down to begin unzipping her skirt, but his hand dropped down onto hers.
“Leave it on.”
She crooked a brow in puzzlement, but he just grinned as he pushed her skirt up, up, flipping it over so it lay against her stomach. He slid her knickers down and pocketed them with a wink.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck your little pussy over a table just like this.”
His filthy words sent another hungry pulse through her.
“Is that so?”
“Mhm.” He stepped close enough to press the head of his penis against her, swiping up and down to coat it in her earlier release. She canted her hips up in invitation. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want this.”
He nodded and notched the head in. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” she said firmly.
Both of his large hands moved to her hips and he pressed forward, driving the full length of himself deep in one, smooth move.
They groaned in equal satisfaction, her hands darting forward to grip his forearms. He stayed still, panting in an attempt to gain control of himself.
“You’re so tight.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have such a fat cock,” she grunted out. It was a struggle on her part, too, to stretch and hold him in the deepest parts of herself.
His face jerked up to stare at her in shock. “Did you just call him fat?”
“It’s a compliment, you prat.” To underline her statement, she strained her neck upward and took his bottom lip between her teeth.
He gave a loud groan as he gave in and pulled out almost to the tip before sliding forward once more, his tongue moving in a mirrored movement against her own. Hermione gave herself completely over to the hard pace he set, bringing her legs up to wrap around his waist, her hands wrapping around his body to clutch his back.
She was glad she hadn’t listened to his warning.
“Where do you want me?” He could barely get his words out, his face tortured as his rhythm stuttered against her.
“Anywhere—on me, in me, just, please—” She couldn’t believe it, but she was close to coming again.
“I can feel you squeezing me so fucking hard,” he managed in between thrusts.
Hermione was just about to reach between them to touch herself when he leaned back to hit her from a slightly different angle, rubbing the ridge of his thickness against a part of her she theoretically knew existed, but hadn’t ever touched.
“Oh, oh, right there, oh god!”
A satisfied grin stretched across his face as she succumbed to the relentless pressure from within that made her want to both slam her legs closed and spread them wide open at the same time.
It was too much; it wasn’t enough.
He grabbed onto one of her legs and yanked it up and over his shoulder as he continued rutting through her orgasm. The slight change of position allowed him in even deeper and she cried out as she felt him swell even thicker.
“Fuck, I’m going to—”
His grip on her thigh tightened and pressed to the side as he pulled himself out and used his free hand to pump and empty himself in milky swathes across her stomach, pubic bone, dripping down against her slit. He dropped his cock in favor of running two fingers along her outer lips to press his release into her.
She bucked against the sensation, and he hummed in satisfaction as he continued to massage the remainder of himself into her skin.
“Just until your next shower,” he said with another wink to her amused smile.
“And after?”
“Maybe next time, you’ll listen.” His tone was serious as he held her gaze within his own, but then a grin slowly spread across his face in response to her raised eyebrow. “But I hope you won’t.”
She didn’t.