Breaking The Pattern

Hannah Abbott is sitting with Blaise and his mother at the Slytherin table.

Draco is about half a second away from moving tables, just to hear the kind of conversation they’re having. 

She’d sat there through McGonagall’s speech, a wonderful selection of hordeurves, the first course, and the second. 

He had to know how. 

“Quit staring,” Hermione pinches the top of his hand.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it. Theo and I could hardly take half an hour with her.”

She laughs, and Draco wants to tell her the horrors Elora is capable of. 

How a Hufflepuff with no memorable qualities was managing not to wilt under the widow’s stare was baffling.

“I’m far more interested in what he thinks he is going to accomplish, flirting so shamelessly,” Hermione tilts her head towards Theo, just across the table. 

The sly snake had somehow settled between Potter and Ginny. He’d joined the hoard before dinner, charming the entire Weasley family with his lopsided smile and a few charismatic compliments. Molly went bright red and promised him his own sweater by the end of the holiday.

Now, he had one hand on Potter’s thigh and the other on the table, separating the Boy-who-lived from his girlfriend.

If Draco was being honest, Ginny doesn’t seem that upset by it.

“Come on, Granger. He’s the hero of the Wizarding World. Is it really fair to ask him to limit himself to one witch forever?”

She squares her shoulders at him. She’s got that adorable frustrated pinch in her brow.

“Oh, should I try out a few other models before settling down then?” She asks.

He leans in and kisses her.

“Oi, not at the table,” George sticks his tongue out. “You’ll ruin everyone’s appetites.”

Pulling back, Draco grins at him. “Sorry. Maybe someday you'll know what it’s like to never want to take your hands off of someone.”

“Maybe someone’s neck,” George gags.

“Oh you’ve got to ask Draco,” Theo exclaims and Draco turns at the sound of his name.

Harry Potter has the smuggest look someone who isn’t in Slytherin could have. 

“Ask me what?”

Potter looks between Draco and Theo, shaking his head slightly.

“Draco, who made the badges in fourth year?” Theo asks, knowing the answer.

Hermione looks at him with wide eyes. It was a complete waste of time making those badges. Merlin, he was a completely witless git back then. Up until recently, really.

“Really witty, weren’t they,” he asks, trying to keep his tone light. He is going to jinx Theo into the new year later.

“He was so proud of them. I was the one who insisted we put your face on some of them,” Theo leans into Harry’s shoulder and Draco thinks he sees a heat rise in Potter’s cheeks.

“The charmwork was actually very impressive,” Hermione says, much to everyone’s surprise. “Not that I approve.” She clarifies her words and swallows deeply from her goblet.

“Salazar, I loved those kits you boys wore,” Theo says.

The table laughs and they focus mostly on rehashing the first task, treading gently around the death of Cedric.

By the time dessert is served, Draco is full, tired, and happy.

McGonagall gets up again to say a few closing words.

“I hope that everyone enjoyed the feast as much as I have. This year has been full of pain and suffering. We lost too many of our students, family, and friends. It heartens me to see how many of you were able to join us this holiday season. For the first time in this school’s history, our houses have come together to welcome not only witches and wizards, but muggles. I believe that this is a sign of unity and progress for our worlds. So thank you for coming, and enjoy the rest of your stay.”

The entire room erupts with applause and Hermione leans back against Draco’s chest.

“Everything really is changing,” she says, looking up at him. 

He nods and looks around, wishing his mother was here. Wishing that she could get past her prejudices and see how similar they all really are.

Six days later, Hermione and Draco ring in the new year together

“Perhaps we should have told Molly we were leaving,” Hermione says as Draco lifts her and presses her into the wall of the fourth-floor corridor.

“While a chaste kiss at midnight sounds lovely, I’d prefer to be doing something else when the clock counts down,” Draco kisses her neck, his hands cupping her cheeks.

She sighs against him and he picks her up once more, wanting to reach his room in the next five seconds.

“Let me down,” she squeals, her hands looped behind his head.

He growls. Fine, at least they’ll get there faster. He sets her down and she takes his hand, pulling him along behind her.

She’d transfigured her Yule gown again, this time into a shorter dress that looked a bit like the decorations in the hall for New Year's Eve. Disco balls, she’d called them.

It hugs her arse in the most incredible way, Draco nearly runs into a wall, he is staring so hard.

“Careful,” Hermione says, finally reaching the stairway. It moves as they get on so while they wait for it to settle at the base of their tower, he pins her to the railing and plays with the hem of her dress.

“Merlin, fuck. I can’t wait to get this off of you,” he says huskily.

“Don’t rip this dress,” she sounds serious.

No promises.

They dash up the stairs and through the portrait hole, all the way to Draco’s door.

Their lips are glued together and Draco can hardly focus enough to cast a simple unlocking charm on the door she is pressed back against.

Snaking his hand into her hair, he pulls her head back, their eyes meeting in heat.

“ Alohomora ,” he casts, a moment from breaking it down with his foot.

Pushing in, Draco can hardly catch his breath as the love of his life tears at the buttons on his shirt.

No more magic. He wants to feel it all in its rawest form.

“Can you?” She turns and he finds a zipper. His fingers move slowly, suddenly reverent.

“Hurry up,” she bounces, looking back at him.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder as he lowers the zipper all the way.

“Draco,” she whines. He pushes the straps down her arms as goosebumps spread down her skin.

“What is it, Granger? Ask me.”

He trails a finger up her spine and she arches. He loves the way her body reacts to his touch. 

The air is cold, but Draco can feel his blood pumping warmly. 

“I want to feel it tomorrow,” she says, pressing back into his hands.

Her dress falls to the ground and her breasts are bare. He reaches around and snakes a hand into the band of her knickers.

“Tomorrow is only minutes away,” he reminds her, his finger pressing between her finds to tease at her clit.

Her breath catches.

“Let me be clear,” she places her hand over his and moves their hands. “I want to feel it on January second.”

Unable to hold back, he bends and pulls her knickers to her ankles, pressing a kiss to her left cheek. She reaches behind her and tries to spin, but he holds her hips in place, standing up.

“Reach back and undo my tie, witch.”

Her fingers reach back blindly and Draco brings his left hand back to her wet pussy.

It takes her a minute, but she manages to undo the knot, squirming all the while.

He takes his hand away and grins when she whines once more. He catches her hand and presses a kiss to her palm, nipping at the tip of her fingers. 

“Walk towards the bed,” he instructs. She takes his tie with her, the soft fabric pulling along his neck until it falls behind her, her panties laying on the floor between them.

He’d worn a silver tie. Actually, it had been black before he’d seen her emerge from her room in silver. Draco liked to match his witch.

Right now is no exception.

He strips down as well, bending forwards to pick her knickers up and pressing his hard cock against her lower back. 

Leaning in so his breath is hot in her ear, he whispers, “Put your hands behind your back and open your mouth, love.”

She complies immediately, bouncing slightly. Anxious to begin. 

Draco pushes her damp panties into her mouth and she tries to say something but it is smothered by the soft silky material.

He wonders if she can taste herself.

“Good,” he says as he ties the silver fabric around her wrists, making sure it isn’t too tight.

Without saying a word, Draco kicks her legs apart and then helps her lay forward over the edge of the bed.

He bends down once more and massages the backs of her thighs, kissing her exposed flesh. She has the perfect arse. When she squirms, he bites at it playfully.

Hermione’s thighs clench together.

Draco tuts, standing and laying a hand on her lower back.

“Keep those thighs spread for me, love,” he instructs.

It’s intoxicating, watching her inch her feet wider to acquiesce.

“Arch your back so I can fuck this perfect pussy, Granger,” he moves his fingers through her wet folds. When he feels her clench around his hand, he knows she is ready. His hard cock nestles between her arsecheeks to find her slick and ready.

Draco looks at her face, covered with her curls.

That won’t do. He reaches forward and curls his hair around his fist, pulling her back only slightly, and sliding his cock into her pussy.

She turns as much as she can manage and the pure bliss on her face motivates Draco to start moving.

She moans around the gag in her mouth and he moves faster, harder. Draco fucks her just the way she asked and she cums around his cock in minutes. Her skin has a sheen of sweat across it.

Draco is nearing his own peak.

“Hermione, you are so fucking,-” he can’t even finish the sentence because she is tight around him, her gasps and moans matching his own.

Her hands try to undo the tie, bending at the elbows and she turns her head a bit more.

His hand slips from her hair and he undoes the knot around her waist.

Instead of reaching up to pull the gag from her mouth, she presses her hands into the mattress, arching her back and matching Draco’s thrusts.

A flash of light distracts him for a moment, but then the whole world around them seems to erupt with noise.

Fireworks.

It’s midnight.

Hermione shakes and Draco holds her tight beneath him, moving faster and sinking deeper until they both cum. The fireworks illuminate the room and shake the tower, but Draco hardly notices any of it.

He pulls out of her and then helps her further onto the mattress, flipping her over roughly.

Pulling the cloth gag out, he lays over her and kisses her. Their tongues fight for dominance and he lets her take control.

“I love you,” she says, kissing her way across his chest, nipping at his alabaster skin.

“I love you more,” he implores, still amazed at the woman he has managed to earn.

“Prove it.”

She is still needy, clamping her legs around his, and pulling him against her.

And so they spend the first hours of the new year fucking each other in every way they can think of. And as Draco and the rest of the world knows, Hermione Granger really is the brightest witch of her age.