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Three Conditions	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 48512 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe. JK Rowling does. I just borrow her toys and put them back in reletively decent shape when I'm through. I make no money doing this, which is why I work two jobs.

Chapter List
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AN: Hello everyone. If you've read my work before, you know that when I get stuck, I have to find a different avenue to release the Muse. This is what I came up with. It started as a one shot and morphed from there. This piece is fairly tame compared to my normal fare. Maybe my muse is mellowing out in her old age. :)

Hermione took another swig of elf made wine and stumbled to the back of the Great Hall, eager to get away before she lost it. She thought that after the moment they’d shared outside of the Room of Requirement, that Ron would buck up the courage and ask her out. But it apparently wasn’t meant to be, if the sight of Ron trying to suck Hannah Abbot’s tonsils out of her mouth was anything to go by. The girl was wrapped around him like the giant squid. And the worst part is that she had absolutely no claim on the lust-ridden red head. A kiss constituted nothing except a heated moment in the heat of battle.
No one paid attention to her sloppy wine-soaked exit. They were too busy celebrating the re-opening of Hogwarts. After a yearlong slog of magically exhausting rebuilding, the school was finally in order. She wouldn’t be returning there. None of her friends would be either. They’d taken correspondence courses to get their NEWTs. She was both glad and heartsick that she could no longer call the school her home. She didn’t feel like she could ever be a carefree teenager again, not that she would be a teenager for much longer. But she would miss the magical feeling of belonging that only Hogwarts seemed to give her, even in the midst of turmoil and war.
She weaved her way up the stairs, tripping a few times when they decided to shift. That had been the task appointed to her. No one wanted Hogwarts to lose even one single detail, and others were needed to rebuild structure. She and a select few who excelled in charms worked on the specialty magic, like sentient stairs with a sense of humor. She didn’t quite appreciate it as much in her inebriated state but the new students and old returning ones would love it.
It took a long while to get to the seventh floor. She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to visit in the first place. The entire school held mixed memories for her but the seventh floor contained more than the entire castle combined. Her fifth year had been spent in sanctuary learning defense spells and growing closer to her friends than ever before. Her sixth year had been spent trying to keep Harry focused. And her seventh year, when she finally returned at the end, had been a terror filled hunt for a cursed object amidst murderous fire and ended with a broom ride that still made her want to piss herself at the mere thought of it. But the Gryffindor common room seemed too cheerful for her mood tonight.
She stared at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, mesmerized by how well they had restored it. The trolls were as hideous as ever in their gargantuan tutus. She squinted, trying to make out the singe marks but she couldn’t find them. Then again, she wasn’t quite sober. Alcohol seemed to make everything a little better looking. Unfortunately, that didn’t include her.
She snorted and tipped the bottle back again, gulping while she ambled back and forth. No one had taken a serious interest in her since rebuilding had started. She’d received a lovely proposition from Luna but she just didn’t swing that way. It was hilarious when Luna finally found her match. The looks on everyone’s face when Lavender Brown came out were priceless. She’d put the moment in the pensive for whenever she wanted a laugh. Ron’s face, when she wasn’t pissed off at him, would brighten her day in a heartbeat. Maybe he was why Lavender changed, or maybe Lavender was really just trying to hide her true self. Either way, Hermione was happy for the two. They seemed well suited and she couldn’t begrudge anyone their happiness after such a nasty war.
She almost fell when the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. She wasn’t thinking of any particular need, but perhaps it had whatever it was she was searching for. It took a few tries but the door handle finally pressed against her hand and opened. She grinned in triumph and toasted the door, though it couldn’t exactly toast back. Still, it was a victory for her. At least she could still operate inanimate objects.
She frowned. She might be doing a lot of that if she didn’t find a man. After the war, she’d gone abroad to find her parents and had a fling with a local man named Brennon. He was a good man and an amazing lover, her first, but she’d been called to help with Hogwarts and she just couldn’t stay. Over the year, she’d had a few one night stands when she’d been desperately lonely but they ended hollowly. And Ron never did make an advance, though she’d given him more than enough opportunity. What was wrong with her?
“You look as if the world hasn’t been handed to you on a silver platter.”
She froze at the snide words and squinted, trying to sort out exactly what she’d walked into. The room was set up like a cabin of sorts, a roaring fire, wood log walls, patterned sofas, and some kind of furry rug. But it was the man leaning back on the rug that gave her pause. It took her alcohol drenched mind a moment to process it but the sneer came like second nature.
“Malfoy,” she sniffed. “What the fuck do you care?”
“Ooh, Granger’s got a dirty mouth,” Malfoy drawled, obviously deep in his cups. “Wonder if the Weasel’s found out yet.”
“Course not,” she slurred. “He’s too busy trying to lick Abbot’s cunt from the wrong end.”
She turned to leave while Malfoy was laughing hysterically and found that the door had vanished. Blasted room. This was the Room of Requirement and she required it to let her out. What was wrong with it? She turned and growled at Malfoy whose was just starting to get hold of himself.
“I thought you fixed this bloody room.”
Malfoy blinked and then sniffed. “Course I did. It’s perfect.”
“Then why won’t it let me out?” she snapped, staggering over to him and waggling her finger in anger.
He tilted his head and gave her a lazy grin. “Because I don’t require it.”
She stopped short. “What?”
“War’s over, Granger,” Malfoy said, his grin replaced by a solemn look that was somewhat spoiled by the glazed look of drunkenness. “I’ve made my reparations and yet no one seems to take them at face value. You’ve done more than your share and still they want more. When will it be enough?”
She sighed and sunk to her knees, eyes closing at the feeling of the luxurious rug. Busted or not, the room sure knew how to decorate. Her mind was addled but she could see the truth in Malfoy’s words. After the war, he’d practically emptied his coffers to aid in rebuilding efforts. He was the first builder to arrive at Hogwarts and the last to leave. He worked when others were taking breaks, through lunch, through tea, and well into the night. The Room of Requirement had been his baby but he’d also helped repair the Great hall, the main entrance, and the unmoving parts of the stairwells. People still treated him with disdain. Her disdain was more to do with their interactions in the past but she couldn’t find fault in his amends now. They were sincere. Even an idiot could see that. But they all assumed that it had been something mandated by the Wizengamet. How wrong they were.
The demands on her were steep as well. Malfoy was right. The world had been handed over to her on a silver platter. She had standing job offers at the Ministry in six different departments as well as offers for three apprentice spots in charms, transfiguration, and arithmancy, and a free college education at two different wizarding colleges just waiting for her. But it was anything but free.
The Ministry wanted her to endorse everything from small rebuilding efforts to a mandate for mandatory marriage and reproduction laws that were ridiculous. The apprentices all wanted her fame to lend their findings credit. They wanted book deals, media attention, and all the proceeds from whatever research she completed under their tutelage. The colleges weren’t quite as bad but they fought for the “privilege” of educating the “brightest witch of the age.” The fine print required monetary support in the future when her career was set and a standing order for lectures and endorsements whenever they liked. A gilded cage, the best of them.
“It won’t be,” she finally said, tipping back the bottle again and drinking until it was empty. “It’ll never be enough. Harry never has to work again if he doesn’t want to, but I’m not so lucky. My parents decided to stay abroad so going to the muggle world is quite pointless. And I refuse to be a puppet.”
“Aye,” Malfoy said before sipping from a silver flask she’d just noticed. “I know a thing or two about being a puppet, Granger. It’s all fun and games until someone yanks your strings. You dance like a bloody loon until they leave you alone again, and Merlin knows how long of a break you get until the next show.”
She frowned and stretched out on her stomach beside him, allowing her fingers to run through the soft fur. “Is that how it was?”
Malfoy nodded and knocked back the rest of his flask before tossing it aside and stretching out beside her on his back. “He said jump and you didn’t dare ask how high. You just jumped and hoped it was enough. And it never was. But the punishment for not jumping at all was your life, and as cowardly as it sounds, I wasn’t willing to give that up. Though I did come close a few times.”
Hermione hummed and stared at the ceiling. It had low hanging rafters and every now and then, simulated moonlight shown through the cracks in the wood. She wished she could find somewhere like this in the real world. It seemed like a serene place to come and think. How odd that she felt so comfortable with Malfoy.
“So the Weasel and Abbot, huh?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. “It’s disgusting. All slobber and hands.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is unskilled.”
“I believe that behavior should be restricted to private places.”
“Not a voyeur then?”
She snorted. “Certainly not.”
He grinned. “Then you’re just not viewing the right kind of material.”
“I just believe that things of… that nature should be kept out of the public eye.”
“Are you a virgin?”
She frowned and rolled over towards him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Why?”
“You just seem a bit prudish.” He smirked. “Normally seeing a couple going at it gets a different reaction.”
“So you’re a porn addict?” she asked snidely.
He sniffed in amusement. “I just know what I like.” He frowned. “Though I’m sure watching a slobber fest might make it a bit… deflating.”
“It was,” she said, flushing when she realized she’d agreed.
He rolled over to his side and stared at her for a long while, dozens of emotions flickering in his eyes. “Ever done something stupid and crazy that you knew you’d probably regret in the morning?”
“Like get drunk in front of all of my friends and make an arse of myself by yelling at a man who never paid me any attention before staggering out the doorway?”
“Nah,” he said. “I do that all the time… minus the man part. I mean something that will stick with you long after you beg for forgiveness for being drunk. Something that you only fantasize about in your darkest dreams and would never admit to another living soul in the light of day. Something that you’d probably regret but might revisit in your memories. Something that, given the chance, you might do again as long as no one ever knew. Something that went against everything you’d ever been taught.”
Hermione’s breath came out in short pants. Malfoy had scooted closer with each sentence until his lips were practically brushing hers. She’d never thought of him as a sexual being but in the dim firelight and aided by the warmth of too much wine, he was dead sexy. A dark and dangerous morsel that she could picture herself tasting. She just wasn’t sure that’s what he was suggesting, so she felt him out a bit, her lips but a hair’s breadth away.
“I’ve already broken into Gringotts.”
Malfoy chuckled and closed the distance, pressing hard into her lips. She tasted the firewhiskey that he’d been drinking. It mingled delightfully with the wine on her tongue and she let go of all pretenses. He was right. As long as no one ever knew, what harm would there be in giving in? It might give her a little something to think back on during cold lonely nights. One night spent with her childhood enemy, losing herself in a drunken haze of pleasure.
She threaded her hand through his hair, surprised at the silky texture. She always thought it would be greasy, but he’d not slicked it back all year. It was fine and lavish against her fingers, matching the rug underneath her. He moaned when she gave it a little tug and wetness gushed from her core. A hundred butterflies swarmed in her stomach, completely flipping it over when Malfoy ran a hand up her side and cupped her breast. She’d worn a tiny red dress with cut outs out the sides that showed off an ample amount of cleavage in an attempt to garner Ron’s attention. Now it served to allow her to feel the heat of Malfoy’s hands as they roamed all over.
As much as she wanted to savor the moment, she was much too frustrated to allow the pace to continue. She grabbed at his dress robes, yanking until he relented and slid out of the offending garment. Her fingers ripped at buttons until that too was thrown by the wayside. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his chest and abs, a work of art. All that building had done his body good. The angles were gone, replaced by beautifully sculpted muscles. The only thing marring his skin was the silver scar from Harry’s curse in fifth year and the faded pink mark.
She didn’t realize that Malfoy had somehow removed her dress until his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking and biting it in the most delicious way. She gasped and moaned at the sensations, her hips bucking up when his hand came up to fondle the other neglected breast. He pinched and pulled, chuckling when she mewled her pleasure and bucked up against him.
“Beg, little Gryffindor.”
“Never,” she growled, separating him with a mighty push.
He fell back in shock, his eyes burning hot when she roughly yanked his trousers down and thanked Merlin he didn’t have on pants. His length stood proud and weeping, obviously enjoying the attention as much as she did. She allowed her hand to explore it, mentally measuring him up to her past lovers. He was long and thick, but not monstrously so. She’d feel every inch but it wouldn’t be painful. Her knickers dampened more at the thought of it inside her.
He pushed her hand away and pinned her to the ground. “Dirty quidditch.”
She smirked. “All’s fair in fucking and war.”
He quirked a brow and nodded. “Glad we agree.”
A second later, her knickers vanished and a wicked tongue was making short work of her resolve. She’d beg for whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t stop. It was so delicious and perfect. No one had ever hit just the right spot, though Brennon had given it his best shot. Her muscles clenched and just as she was on the precipice, that tongue that could tear her to shreds with one flick stopped moving. She screamed in frustration and lashed out, trying desperately to finish the job herself though her arms were still pinned to the floor.
“There’s only one way you’re going over tonight, Granger,” Malfoy breathed, shifting to settle his knees over her hips. “You agree to my conditions. When you come, I want you to know that it was my cock that brought you over, my cock that can unhinge you. And in the dark of night, when whoever your fucking just can’t quite get you there, I want you to remember that there is one cock who would willingly do so over and over again. What say you?”
Hermione could barely string two words together, let alone try and articulate what she was feeling. She was desperate to come but all she could manage was a brush up against Malfoy’s hardened length. His dark words had sent her libido into overdrive but they didn’t quite compute.
“You said no one would know,” she finally managed to bite out.
He smirked. “That is condition one. I didn’t say you’d tell your subpar lover whose cock you really craved.” He ground down on her pussy, making her cry out in bliss and frustration when the pressure was withheld a moment later. “I’ve wanted you for years, Granger, but you know that’s impossible. My bastard of a father would disown me. You’re precious reputation would be ruined. But this,” he said, punctuating with another grind, “this we can do.”
“You want me to be your little whore,” she growled, angry at herself that she was allowing this to continue and angry because he wouldn’t just shut up and fuck her.
“No more that I’d be yours,” he said darkly. “Imagine me, at your beckoned call whenever this glorious pussy of yours needs expert attention.” He gathered her arms in one of his hands and reached down to fondle her. “You can be the wizarding world’s little darling, reputation pristine in the light of day and the naughty little girl you long to be in the dark corners no one thinks to look for.”
“I’m not the cheating type,” she said, her voice wavering because she was concerned that she just might be. Life wasn’t exactly shaping out to be what she wanted it to be as it was.
“How is it cheating when they’re using you too?”
She gasped, tears springing to her eyes as his words hit their mark. She knew, deep down, that any relationship she had now would be a superficial one at best. But how had he known?
“What about you?”
He smirked and slid his fingers inside her greedy channel, giving her just enough stimulation to make her head spin with need. “A pureblood marriage is just two people using one another to get ahead. Why shouldn’t I get what I want?”
“You won’t have me,” she warned.
He smirked. “I’ll get what I want. You’ll get what you want. Ownership has nothing to do with it. So condition number two, we have a standing mutual pleasure arrangement. And the best part… no one would ever know.”
“What if one of us wants to call it off?”
He shrugged and curled his fingers inside her, making her cry out in pleasure and pain. “Then we walk away, no harm, no foul. Condition three, when it’s over, there are no hard feelings. What do you say, Granger? Willing to take the bet?”
She was so close and his offer, in her drunken pleasure-filled haze sounded perfect. She couldn’t have thought it through rationally if she wanted to. Besides, it was just sex. Some people paid for an arrangement like that. So after about three seconds of thought, she allowed herself to say yes.
“Do it,” she growled.
It turned into a long and low wail when Malfoy sunk home. She was already gone by the time he set a steady pace, waves of bliss flooding over her like a tsunami. He didn’t let up either. Even drunk off his arse, Malfoy was a sex god and he was bound and determined to show her his skills. She allowed it, bending and twisting and turning as he saw fit, allowing him to take her someplace she’d never been. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she climbed another precipice until finally, she allowed herself to give in. She was boneless, the darkness closing in on her when she heard Malfoy’s feral roar of completion. That would definitely be a moment she would return to for inspiration later on.
“This is just the beginning, my little Gryffindor,” Malfoy muttered just before she knew nothing else.

AN: So, they say to write what you know. As this story continues, it gets nice and angsty which is something that seems to be creeping up into my everyday life. Please review and let me know how you like it. It should be a fairly short piece. It's roughly 20000 words now and I'm almost done... unless it grows a life of its own like Junkies. And for those of you who are terrified that I've given up on Junkies, don't worry. I might disappear from time to time, but I'll never stop. So, as always, until next time... love you guys!
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Three Conditions