Since I discovered there's a severe lack of satisfying (geddit) Dramione lemon on the Internet, I decided to write my own.
State the obvious: The characters are not mine and in light of a certain person turning out to be transphobic we don't know wh...
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The sounds came closer, now accompanied by grumbling. She heard the caretaker say something to his cat, and then, to her immense relief, the footsteps outside faded away. Filch was gone.
Finally at ease, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief - before she remembered that she was currently in the arms of Draco Malfoy, her arch enemy and incidentally, also the long-term object of her secret fantasies.
Actually, slung over his shoulder like a prize won in war would be more accurate, but the point remained the same. Malfoy seemed to come to the same conclusion, because at that very moment he gave a start, shot away from the wall and dropped her like he had been scalded.
Hermione landed on her rump, irritated beyond measure, but not on hard stone as she had expected. Instead, she discovered she was sitting on a thick, soft rug. Wait... a rug?
Annoyance draining, she gulped hard, her eyes beginning to travel the room, going wide as she took in her surroundings. Malfoy had wished for...a bedroom.
And not just any bedroom, either. A luxurious white canopied four-poster bed stood at the centre of the room, dwarfing everything else. Plush pillows and satin sheets of pure white lay on the mattress. Gauzy silver drapes shimmered, curtaining off the interior of the bed from the rest of the room. Warm yellow light spilled from a series of bracket lanterns on the walls around it, casting a golden glow over the entire room.
She scoffed. Of course. Only the very best for the Slytherin Prince.
Then she frowned. Golden lamps...?
Realising she was still on the floor, she looked up and saw Malfoy intently studying the book. She had completely forgotten it! He must've had it in his hand when he'd hauled her into the room so hastily.
"Well, well. So this is your study material, is it, Granger?"
Holding in a curse, Hermione slowly got up, with every intention of stealing the book back from the slimy git, even if she had to hex him to do it. Malfoy had opened the book and was now repeatedly glancing between her and the pages, signature smirk cemented in place.
She smouldered under his judging gaze. She knew for a fact that Malfoy screwed around like a stallion, so what right did this blond whore have to call her out on what she chose to do between the sheets?
Without warning, Hermione lashed out at Malfoy, surprising him with her speed as she desperately battled for the book. Malfoy tugged right back, and before they knew it they were rolling on the floor, fighting. Hermione reached out and clawed at his face, her recently manicured talons drawing tiny droplets of blood. In the moment he was blinded, she reached out to snatch the book from his grasp. Taking hold of it, she quickly backed away. Now completely divested of her night robe, she stood up, her breath coming out in short gasps as she dusted herself off. Glancing down at Malfoy, she found him sprawled on the floor, gaping at her.
