A Second Look - A Dramione Story

Chapter 15

Warning: This is not my story. It is from RiverWriter on ao3.

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Friday night found Hermione cuddling on the couch with Draco. She was just about asleep on his chest when Effie popped in clutching a letter.

"Effie is sorry, Master," she whispered, eyeing Hermione.

"No need to apologize, thank you for bringing that straight up."

"Thank you Effie," Hermione reiterated sleepily, determined not to make her feel badly for doing her job.

Effie handed Draco the envelope and with a slight bow, popped away.

Draco ripped it open, read it quickly, and groaned. "I have to go in tomorrow, there's an issue with the Italian deal."

"I'm sorry," she said in commiseration, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"We were going to spend the day together," he lamented, "you were going to help me purchase one of those mobiles."

She chuckled. "We can do that later. It's not exactly time sensitive. Andromeda and I are the only people you know who even own one. Unless you count Harry," she looked up at him with exaggerated enthusiasm, "are you wanting to chat to Harry?"

"Hush witch," he growled poking her in the side. He hit just the right spot and she giggled. He froze and his eyes went wide. "Are you ticklish?"

She, in turn, froze. "No," she said, but the denial sounded empty.

"Oh this is too good," he said, and then he was attacking her, digging his fingers into her sides. She writhed and squealed and tried to escape him but it did no good, he had maneuvered them so that he was on top, pinning her down. So she did the only thing she could think of to distract him, she surged upwards and kissed him.

Their lips met passionately and he kissed her and kissed her until she lost all inhibition and just rocked her hips instinctively, and that's when she realized he was laying in the cradle of her thighs. His hardness hit her core just right and pleasure surged through her. "Oh!" She gasped.

"Oh hell, Hermione," he growled rocking his hips to perfectly replicate the delicious sensation.

They were dressed for bed, with only a few very thin layers of silk and cotton between them. A murmured spell and that barrier would be gone. He could slip right inside of her. She wasn't ready for that yet, but she absolutely didn't want him to stop moving against her.

"Fuck," he murmured into her mouth, "tell me to stop." It was both a demand and a plea.

She didn't believe it. "No," she whined. "Feels so good." She squirmed beneath him, encouraging his movements.

"How old am I?" He groaned, "and what are you doing to me?" He sounded disbelieving.

"Don't care, don't care," she chanted. "Please Draco!"

Those were apparently the magic words. He moved one hand under her thigh and hitched her leg up over his hip and began to thrust more purposefully.

She ran her hands up and down his back and buttocks, anywhere she could reach, pulling him more firmly against her. He was all taut muscle, broad shoulders, and lean hips that fit perfectly between hers. Deliciously male and- at that moment at least- seemed designed to make her feel good.

"Oh Merlin, I can smell you," he groaned.

Normally, she would have been mortified, but his voice was low and husky with desire and she just moaned in response.