Den of Iniquity
Draco has to confess. The holiday is less than a month away now. Molly Weasley had expected a response a week ago. But Draco couldn’t bring himself to do it.
A waterfall had opened since he’d told her he loved her. It was like he’d forgotten how to Occlude. Every thought in his mind was tangled in the knowledge that he was madly in love with her.
“Granger,” he says, looking up from the page of his book. He’d been reading the same sentence for a half an hour.
She does the same, smiling radiantly.
“What is it?”
“There is something I have to confess.”
He hates the fear that flashes in her eyes. She doesn’t believe him yet. That he could be so madly enamored with her.
“Nothing dramatic. Well, I suppose it depends. I received an invitation from Molly Weasley. To join them for the holiday.”
She looks at him with wide eyes and then laughs.
“It isn’t funny, Granger.”
“Oh but it is. The most wondrous images just flashed through my mind. You in a green sweater with a D on it. Us trapped underneath the mistletoe. You pretending as though you aren’t enjoying holding little Teddy Lupin.” She actually giggles.
He rolls his eyes, relieved she isn’t upset.
“I was supposed to respond last week, but I didn’t,” he adds.
This confession doesn’t go over as well.
Granger leans forward from her place on the floor, smacking his arm.
“I would have thought your upbringing would have taught you to respond to an invitation promptly,” she scolds
“I can’t go.”
“If you didn’t want to attend, you should have at least told Mrs. Weasley!”
“I can’t go,” he repeats. “My probation. I’m not allowed to leave the castle.”
She loses the look of indignation, instead, her face goes ashy.
He watches her think through the problem. The ways she can fix it.
Draco prepares to shoot down whatever favor she is contemplating calling in.
The Weasleys don’t really want him there. Draco may have proven a fierce defender of Hermione, but he was still an ex-Death Eater. They’d lost a brother. A son.
“Wait,” she says, looking up at him. “You would have? Wanted to?”
“Spend the holiday with you? Absolutely.”
“Even surrounded by Weasleys?”
“Even surrounded by dementors.”
She leans forward and Draco bends to kiss her. Her breath hitches and a shiver runs down his spine.
Kissing her is what Draco has always wanted kissing to feel like.
“So you’ll be here? Alone?”
“My mother has made it clear I am not welcome at home until I change my mind about my inheritance.”
Draco hates the guilt that flashes on her face. He knows that he likely wouldn’t have given up his inheritance if he hadn’t realized how wrong he had been.
Strategically, Draco hadn’t responded to his mother’s letter. He wasn’t going to beg to be allowed home.
He hoped that once she realized how serious he was, she would change her tone.
His mother would not stand with his father if she thought she would lose Draco.
“I could stay,” she offers, her lips ghosting over his.
He shakes his head, pulling her onto his lap.
“Theo will be here. And Blaise. Probably a lot of Slytherins, actually.”
Draco knew a lot of the pureblood families split apart after the war. Warring opinions and dozens of arrests even after the Death Eater trials.
Granger loops her arms around his neck and leans back to look him in the eye.
“I could still stay.”
“They are your family. You should be with them,” his hands slide under her thighs, holding her in place.
She’s wearing an old sweater of his, with sleeves she’s had to roll four times so her hands stick out. Her clothes are scattered around the room, save her knickers, which she somehow managed to find in the aftermath of their morning shag.
“What if I came back early? For Christmas dinner.”
Draco doesn’t celebrate Christmas. His parents raised him to honor the Winter Solstice. Yule.
But Salazar, she’d make an excellent Christmas gift.
“We can celebrate before you go,” he kisses her, slipping his thumb under the elastic of her knickers.
She kisses back, her fingers scratching the base of his neck in the way he loves.
He’ll have to find a Christmas present. How? He has no idea. Maybe he could convince his friends to go to Diagon for him.
“Fine. A compromise.”
Something neither of them enjoyed. So Draco decides to provide them both with something better.
Sex was something that they never had to compromise on. They were made for each other.
“Deal. Now stop worrying and let me fuck you,” he nips at her nose, playful.
Hermione pulls his sweater over her head and tosses it to the side. Then her arms snake back around his neck, pulling his chest to hers with a deep kiss.
Shifting them so she is laying on her back on the soft carpet, he only pulls his lips away to look at her body, gloriously bare.
“Draco,” she moans, pulling him down on top of her.
She moves a hand into his hair and pushes him down to her pebbling nipples.
He sucks one into his mouth, using his hands to hover over her. When she arches her back, he kisses down her stomach and rests between her legs, lifting his face to look at the ecstasy mirrored on her own. He lifts her hips, and pulls her pale panties down her legs, discarding them on top of some other clothes.
“I need you,” she begs, her legs splayed open and her breathing heavy.
“Not as much as I need you,” he says before lowering his mouth to her pelvic bone, peppering kisses along her skin, being careful not to kiss or touch her hot core.
“Yes,” she hisses, closing her thighs slightly, directing Draco’s ministrations to her pussy.
She isn’t as wet as he wants. He wants Hermione dripping for him, keening for his tongue.
So he pulls her knees apart and kisses the inside of each of her thighs, moving back onto his knees.
“Are you going to behave, little witch? Or am I going to have to hold you in place?” he kneads her skin, sending warmth coursing through her body, straight to her center.
“Draco, please,” she mewls, her hands massaging her own hard nipples, searching for stimulation.
He practically dives between her legs. Licking at the sweet softness, Draco would swear he was hallucinating.
He doesn’t stop to scold her when her knees clench against his ears, nor when a hand tangles in his hair.
Hermione grinds against his mouth and he flicks his tongue over her clit.
“God, Draco,” she grinds out, her body tense. “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”
He slips a finger inside of her and smiles into her skin. She is soaked.
Quickly, he sits up, ignoring her mewling as he pulls himself free of his sweatpants, and grabs her ankle.
“Flip over,” he growls.
She lets her help her, their skin always touching.
Pulling her back against his chest, he nips her shoulder and reaches around to play with her nipples, his other hand reaching down to play with her clit.
“Want to? I need to,” he reminds her, letting her go.
She falls onto her hands and smirks over her shoulder at him, pressing her ass back against him.
Gripping her hips, Draco sinks into her, unable to hold in a loud possessive growl. When she grinds back, he can’t help but piston in and out of her.
She shrieks and slaps a hand against the ground, steadying herself.
“Can you touch yourself, love?” Draco asks, fucking her roughly.
She shakes her head.
“Come on, Granger. I love the feeling of you clenching around my cock. I’m going to cum, faster than you deserve. So put your fingers on your clit and cum with me,” he says, moving in and out of her, watching his cock go into her wet cunt.
She does as he’s asked, her fingers massaging her own clit.
Draco takes his right hand off of her hip and reaches forwards, tangling it in her curls.
This makes Hermione arch her back and the feeling sends Draco over the edge.
They cum together, the sounds of her moans driving Draco mad.
Pulling out, he can’t help but grin at the sight of his cum dripping out of her. She’s on the potion, and Draco would never mess up a contraceptive charm, but just the fantasy of Granger having his children makes him want to have another go.
Granger pulls Draco’s comforter down off his bed and curls up with it right there on the ground, too exhausted to move. Draco just kneels there, staring at her dewy eyes and the red flush in her cheeks.
“What is that? The third time today?” she laughs, pushing a curl off her forehead.
“I can’t keep my hands off of you. I’m inclined to never let you leave this room.”
“You think it’s the room? Some sort of spell? Perhaps time is frozen just outside the door while we shag?”
Draco loves when she uses that word. So dirty coming from her soft sweet mouth.
“Maybe we should investigate? We haven’t been outside in days,” he points out. As much as he is enjoying having Granger in his bed, and on his floor, and over his desk- he is getting tired of eating meals off the floor.
He’d like to sit in a chair. Maybe see his friends.
But then he looks down at the witch in front of him and realizes he’d starve before he gave up this paradise.
“Maybe you are right.”
No, he is definitely not right. He wants to take it back but she is already standing.
Looking for clothes.
“Just a quick walk? Then some food in the Great Hall?” He concedes that they should leave the room at least for a little while. Neither of them are going anywhere.
She nods, and he helps her track down the rest of her clothes.
Once they are dressed, Granger looks around the room and laughs.
“This place is beginning to resemble a den of iniquity.”
Draco crosses the room to the door, pulling her against him and kissing her, her taste still on his lips.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Granger.”
Stepping out into the hall is a bit jarring. It isn’t nearly as late in the afternoon as Draco thought, and bright light streams into the common room.
He feels better when he sees her squinting as well.
They don’t pass anyone on the stairs, which he assumes is due to it being a Hogsmeade day.
It’s a good thing because she doesn’t object when he pulls her into an alcove and snogs her senseless.
“Ahem,” a woman’s voice interrupts them.
Draco pulls away from Hermione to find Headmistress McGonagall glaring at him.
“Mr. Malfoy, surely you are more chivalrous than this,” she says, her face pinched.
He’d have been embarrassed a couple of years ago. But he is a grown wizard now. And they weren’t doing anything more than kissing.
“We were just on our way outside,” Hermione explains, obviously not as cavalier as Draco about being caught.
“Very well,” she nods. “Oh and just so you are aware, as I don’t believe I saw either of you for dinner last night, Hogwarts will be open to students’ families over the Christmas holiday. In the hopes of providing a safe and festive environment for people to see their families.”
She looks at Draco as she says this and he imagines it has to do with the number of Slytherin dreading going home. Their parents will have to be on their best behavior within the castle walls.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Headmistress,” Granger smiles.
McGonagall nods and they go their separate ways, Draco and Hermione staying quiet until they get outside.
Hermione bursts out laughing and smacks Draco playfully on the arm.
“That was mortifying!” she exclaims, taking his arm and walking down the path.
“Not at all. She could have found us last week in her empty classroom,” he reminds her.
She goes beet red.
“Well at least we got some good news.”
“Good news?”
“If I can convince Molly to move Christmas to Hogwarts, I’ll get to see you in a Weasley sweater after all,” she grins like a cat.
He rolls his eyes, secretly pleased with her plan.
Draco takes her hand, and although the air is cold, neither of them pulls away to put them in their pockets the entire time they walk outside.