The year was 2003. Hermione had cast a Silencing charm on the walls of her flat so that she wouldn’t disturb her neighbours and cranked the volume of her oversized radio to the max. The bass was so strong that it made the wooden dining table shake and reverberated throughout her entire living space. She danced her way into the kitchen as I Wanna Sex You Up by the Muggle R&B group “Color Me Bad” started to play, bending her knees and stepping to the beat so that she bopped as she moved. The little high-hat hits of a cymbal always made her want to move. It was a 90s R&B tune, but it never failed to get Hermione moving.
Her boyfriend was working late tonight, meaning that she had the flat to herself, and she was going to take advantage of it. Her relaxed outfit of the evening consisted of thick cotton socks on her feet, her black bra and thong, and then a men’s dress shirt, her boyfriend’s, oversized on her toned frame. It draped down and stopped just under the curve of her arse. The sleeves had had to be rolled up to her elbows for comfort but Hermione was quite pleased with her outfit choice. Her boyfriend was quite particular about his clothing and she wouldn’t have dared to steal one of his shirts without knowing that he wasn’t coming home until much later that evening. She definitely had the time to use her wand, iron out any wrinkles, and hang it back up before he got home.
She grooved her way into her galley kitchen and stood up on her tiptoes so that she could open the cherry-wood cabinet directly above her stovetop. Pulling the black ceramic teapot down from its designated storage place, the witch moonwalked backward to her kitchen sink, an action made easier by the slipperiness of her socks on the hardwood floor of the flat. When she spun around and started to fill the teapot with water, she swung her hips to the rhythm of the music and started to sing softly aloud to the boy group.
“Come inside, take off your coat, I’ll make you feel at home. Now let’s pour a glass of wine, 'cause now we’re all alone. I’ve been waiting all night so just let me hold you close to me. Cause I’ve been dying for you, girl, to make love to me!”
Teapot filled, she spun back around and turned the knob on the stovetop so that the burner started to heat up. The teapot was set down on the burner so that the water inside could boil. And that was when Hermione started to really let herself feel the music. She ran a hand along her bare left thigh and sunk down a little, almost kneeling on the floor for a moment, before popping back up and picking a wooden spoon out of her utensil jar, mimicking a microphone. Shaking out her brunette locks, she started to sing a little louder.
“Girl, you make me feel real good…” She ran her left hand up from her thigh along her stomach, over her left breast, and up to the back of her neck, rubbing the back of her neck. She sighed when she found a little tension spot and massaged it for a second before continuing to dance. “We can do it ‘til we both wake up. Girl, you know I’m hooked on you. And this is what I’ll do…”
Her spoon microphone was the perfect prop as she danced her way over to the fridge. Opening the door with her left hand, she shimmied her arse a little as she bent over and using her left hand again, she grabbed one of the takeaway Chinese food boxes from last night. Having some leftovers for dinner never hurt anybody. With her wooden “microphone” in her right hand and the food in her left, Hermione backed away from the fridge so that the door could close and went over to the dining room table. She set the container of cold takeaway down and opened it; chicken fried rice always tasted good, no matter cold or warm. Waving her now-empty left hand in the hair, she silently cast a Summoning charm and the utensil drawer of the cabinets slid open. A fork lifted from its resting place and hovered through the air towards her, Hermione closing her delicate fingers around the metal handle with ease.
“I wanna sex you up! Hermione sang, quieter now as she dug the fork into the rice. She set the wooden spoon ‘microphone’ down onto the surface of the table. “All night!” she continued as she lifted the first forkful into her mouth. She didn’t mind singing with her mouth full, especially when Draco wasn’t around to watch. He hated bad table manners and normally, Hermione did too. But sometimes, the need to groove was just too powerful. Hermione continued to hum as she ate the rice, eyes fluttering closed on occasion if she had a particularly flavourful bite.
When she had had her fill, the rice container was discarded into the kitchen’s rubbish bin and she spun on her sock-covered feet back to the fridge, opening it to grab the chilled bottle of red wine; Love-Bitten, bottled by the Malfoy Apothecary. The apothecary had been around for about thirty years and it was one of the investments that Draco had decided to keep when he inherited all of his father’s assets upon Lucius’ seemingly infinite imprisonment. Hermione had had a love-hate relationship with the memory of the wine itself for when she, Ron, and Harry had been brought to Malfoy Manor to be presented to Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco had been asked to identify the lot of them. When the Malfoy heir had been stalling, purposefully acting unsure of their identity, Lucius had poured himself a glass of the stuff, clearly impatient and tired of his son’s behaviour and “weak spine”. Hermione’s torture at the hands of the Lestrange witch had followed shortly after. The full-circle moment came for Hermione and Draco when he offered to open a bottle during one of their cozy dinners in. Hermione had visibly paled and asked for something else. Draco, upon making the connection, immediately apologized, and to Hermione’s surprise, he asked if she wanted to offer input on creating a new label and name for the wine. Of course, he had said, they would alter the flavour profile slightly – but it would be a mark for their relationship and a new start for the company, now that it was in Draco’s hands. Thus, Love-Bitten was born. The label was matte black, with a gold foil serpent curled around a dove – it appeared to be menacing at first. But if the label was touched with a naked palm, or if one looked close enough, the serpent’s head would swivel from the consumer back to the dove – and its body language took on the air of protection. It symbolized Draco and Hermione, and with notes of bumbleberry and raspberry, deep and sweet and tart, and an underlying warmth of cinnamon, it was like drinking a rich, autumnal berry pie.
Hermione poured herself a glass and swirled the ruby liquid around, letting it breathe. She had continued to hum the Muggle song this entire time and as she took her first sip, she turned on her heel and danced her way into the living room.
“Let me take off all your clothes… Disconnect the phone so nobody knows. Let me light a candle so that we can make it (better),” Hermione sang softly, waving her left hand absentmindedly at the candles on the mantle of their fireplace. The wicks sprang to life with heat and flickered.
“Making love until we drown!” Hermione took another generous swallow of her wine and flopped onto the couch. Her legs were draped over the couch armrest and her toes were at a point. The witch propped her head up onto a pillow, her hair sprawled out beneath her. “Girl, you know it feels real good. We can do it till we both wake up. Girl, you know I’m hooked on you… and this what I’ll do!”
Hermione took a few more large sips of the red liquid and giggled softly after swallowing. She felt the familiar tingle in her cheeks that told her she was getting drunk.
“Oh god, what I wish Draco were here to do, ” she murmured to herself. "I need another glass." She lifted her left hand and rotated it to face the kitchen. "Accio wine." The fridge opened and the bottle flew gracefully through the flat into Hermione's open hand. Her fingers closed around it and she used her teeth to remove the cork. The witch poured herself a generous glass and set the wine bottle down on the dark hardwood coffee table. Hermione took more large gulps; who cared about manners and etiquette? She was home alone! And that meant -
Her left hand trailed down her body and she slipped her fingers beneath her knickers. Spurred by the wine, she let her thumb brush over her clit and goosebumps prickled over her skin. She sighed Draco's name and slipped two fingers inside herself, curling them upward to hit the spot that made her toes curl. She imagined her boyfriend's head between her legs, his tongue lapping at her while his fingers fucked her slowly. How he loved to tease her, edge her to orgasm slowly and then pick the pace fast, almost cruel, bringing her to shattering climaxes. "More," she mewled. She found a rhythm with her fingers and her thighs began to shake, thumb flicking over her clit again. "Please, Draco." Her right hand brought her wine glass up to her lips and she drank deeply until it was almost gone. "Fuck, yes."
This reminded her of one of their first holidays together. They had gone down to Portugal and rented a villa there, the Muggle way. One day, she had ordered for a tropical cocktail and some lunch and decided to take both to the private pool deck that was attached to the villa. When she had started to drink, lounging in a bikini on a cushioned pool chair, Draco had come out in his swimming trunks. He dove into the pool, showing off and did a few laps. But as he watched her drink from her glass, he had decided to come out of the pool, crawled over top of her on the lounger with droplets splashing down onto her body and removed her bikini bottoms by untying the strings at her sides. Hermione had reached for her towel to try and cover herself, mortified at the thought that someone could see. But after Draco had reassured her that it was fully private, her body had relaxed and she had spread her legs. He encouraged her to keep drinking, and as she drank down the fruity alcohol, he had eaten her cunt like it was his last meal, fingering and sucking her, probing her until she was nothing more than a trembling mess.
Her fingers picked up speed now until she was pounding into herself. "Fuck, Draco, yes," she crooned as her eyes closed. She felt the pressure of orgasm build in her lower stomach and her muscles began to tighten. "More, darling, please! I'm so close!"
"So close to what?" a voice called teasingly. Hermione's eyes shot open and she pulled her hand from her knickers, sitting upright abruptly. The remainder of her wine splashed onto the couch, staining it, but she paid it no mind. She realized as her eyes took in her boyfriend's amused expression that he had definitely seen and heard what she was doing. Her cheeks warmed. Draco stood just inside their closed front door. His hair was slicked to his forehead and water drops fell in trickles down his face, off his coat and onto their indoor mat. Hermione smiled softly, embarrassed. Draco raised an eyebrow, waiting for her answer. The witch stood up from her spot on the couch.
“You’re home early,” she said, her voice a little breathless. Her brown eyes trailed down his body slowly. “And you’re soaked.”
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he returned although he didn’t look the least bit perturbed about it. How could he be? She was practically naked wearing it. "And it seems you're soaked, too."
Hermione's cheeks reddened a little more. Fuck. She watched as Draco shrugged out of his coat and she grinned even more of the sight of the warm cream knitted jumper that he wore, the one that she had gifted him last Christmas. “Why didn’t you Apparate home from the Ministry, love? You must have been freezing outside." The witch walked around the coffee table. Her right pointer finger tapped the side of her now-empty wine glass. Brown eyes trailed over his body again; the cream jumper, the well-fitted dark denim that showed his toned legs, strong from playing Quidditch with some of the Ministry lads in a league. She observed the way he slipped his boots off and set them to the side under the shoe metal rack. When he straightened and stood tall, Hermione observed that his eyes trailed over her body now, taking in the fact that she wore a bra, a thong, one of his shirts and nothing else, save for the socks on her feet. He took a step toward her at the same time she did and another. Water continued to drip from his hair onto the floor. She closed the distance between them and the heat from his hands, large on her small waist, could be felt through the fabric of his dress shirt that she wore. She peered up at him, her brown eyes meeting his steel grey and they smiled in unison; loving and passionate.
“I decided to walk home,” he explained with a small chuckle. “Sometimes the rain clears my head.” His eyes flickered from her face down to her body again and back up. His lips formed a small “O” as he exhaled slowly. “But had I known that you were home like this, I definitely would have Apparated.” He ducked his head down and Hermione tilted her chin slightly to the right so that he had access to her neck. He placed a lingering kiss over her pulse point on the left side of her neck and she sighed. “You liked fucking yourself to the thought of me, darling?" he teased against her skin. "A greedy girl to want your cunt filled so badly."
"I can't help it," Hermione teased back. "I want you all the time." Last night, they had had sex two or three times alone. Though they had lived together for two years now, they were still very much a couple in their honeymoon phase. They rarely fought unless it was over something important, like finances, and their sex life was abundant. There were nights where they almost seemed insatiable for the other. "And since you weren't home, I thought a little private time might be nice."
Draco nipped her skin affectionately. "Come have a shower with me, Granger,” he said. His arms moved to wrap around her waist in a bear hug, pulling her body into his. She could feel his biceps flex against the sides of her body; his forearms tightened at the small of her waist and her heart fluttered. Another slow kiss on her neck and then he sucked on her skin. Hermione’s eyes closed and she couldn’t help the light moan that passed her lips.
“Draco Malfoy, you come home early, interrupt my personal ‘me’ time, stop me from finishing, and then have the audacity to not even say ‘I love you’ before you try to get me naked,” Hermione teased. Her right hand still held her wine glass and was trapped between their pressed chests. Her left hand had gone into the hair near the nape of his neck, out of habit, and she pulled some of the platinum strands lightly. They were still wet from the rain outside. “And I think you got water on the hardwood.”
Draco chuckled, a sound that was both warm and dark at the same time. It was the promise of something wicked.
"I love you," he vowed into the crook of her neck. "I love you," he said again as his lips continued to trail down from her neck to her collarbone. He sunk down to kneel at her feet and his mouth went to the valley between her fabric-covered breasts. “I love you," he said a third time, right beside her heart. Then he stopped and looked up at her abruptly, eyes gleaming with something naughty.
"Besides, don't give me shit about the hardwood. You didn’t mind getting the hardwood wet the other night,” he goaded. The Slytherin dropped his arms from around her waist only so that he could move his hands to cup her arse. As he continued to kiss his way down her body, he squeezed her flesh, making her yelp. “Do you remember, Granger?" he said between kisses and touches. "When we tried that fantasy of yours last week? I had you on that dining room table, with your legs spread wide…”
He paused and his right hand slipped around her body, from the curve of her left cheek around to the front of her left thigh, so close to where she was most sensitive. He then kissed her right at the edge of where her knickers started. “You had your hands tied to your ankles so that you couldn’t get away. And the way that you begged my fingers to fuck you… the way that you pleaded for release… your squirting had us making quite a mess of the floor. I would say that it definitely got it wet.”
Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks and at the apex of her thighs; her nipples perked with arousal and pressed against the fabric of her bra. That delicious night had been last week when Hermione had asked Draco if they could be naughty and shag in the kitchen and the dining room. She hadn’t expected him to tie her up in that way, but when she had found out that her body could respond that way, she hadn’t cared. Draco had never made her squirt before, nor had any of her past romantic partners – but since last week, when he discovered how to touch her to make it happen… it had happened in the five times they had had sex since; earth-shattering, body-quivering orgasms that had her eyes roll in the back of her head. Hermione had known Draco could make her cum like none of her partners had before – their sex life was definitely not an issue in their relationship. But now that he could do that? He was a gift for her made from Heaven and Hell and she wanted to stay in his sweet torment forever.
Her left hand moved from the back of his neck to the top of his head and she took hold of his dampened hair again, a little harder this time. A gentle push backward had Draco Malfoy tilting his head, looking up at her in sinful adoration. “I like when you make me lose control, Draco,” she told him.
She watched his expression morph from adoration to mischievous as he smirked and his eyes lit with desire. He rose up from his knees and was keen on pressing their bodies as close together as the wine glass in her right hand would allow. “Then let’s get in the shower,” he suggested. “I could really use the heat.” Momentarily, he let his right hand slip down between them, cupping her pussy through her knickers. “And then, after we’re all clean, I promise you that I’ll sink myself so deeply into you that you’ll sing my fucking name.”
Hermione flexed her hips forward, grinding her clit against the palm of his hand for a moment. “I always do,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re mine.” His hand retreated from her sex and instead, both hands moved to cup her arse again and he lifted her upwards so that her legs could wrap around his waist. Their lips met; Malfoy tasted of the mint gum he had been chewing on his walk home, she tasted of the wine. Their tongues moved together as they opened their mouths, each baring themselves to the other.
“Drop the fucking glass, Hermione,” he growled into her mouth. The witch had been absent-minded and forgotten that she had ever been holding it. His words were a command and she let it go instantly, the glass falling from her delicate fingers and smashing on the floor behind Draco’s heels. They smirked against each other. Draco’s grip on her arse tightened as he took an exaggerated step backward over the shards of the broken wine glass and started to carry her deeper into their flat, in the direction of the bathroom. It was only then that her boyfriend seemed to realize that the music was on in the first place. It had just switched from to something that Hermione couldn’t place. The witch shrugged.
“Well, there was a band on called Colour Me Badd, but it’s different now,” she replied; her hands moved to steady themselves on his shoulders. “The song I had been singing along to though was called I Wanna Sex You Up, though.”
Draco chuckled darkly. “What an apt name for a song,” he mused. He altered the positioning of his right hand on her arse cheek, moving his fingers ‘innocently’ so that her thong slipped away from her wet entrance. Hermione sucked in a breath now that her sex was exposed to the air. Two of his fingers slipped inside of her and her head fell back as her body accommodated the intrusion. They stumbled backward into the bathroom and entered the walk-in shower. It was large, with a glass door, front wall and concrete sides, painted white. Hermione didn’t care if they still had clothes on or not and fumbled behind her blindly, reaching for the faucet that was along the back wall. She turned it onto full and then moaned Draco’s name as the hot water began to cascade over their bodies. His left hand still cupped her bottom, while the weight of his body and her arms around his neck held her up. His fingers found a rhythm and were pounding into her already and as her body preened, her lower stomach tightening as she came around him, Hermione found that as the song had said, making love until we drown… she happily drowned herself in Draco’s love and lust every day.