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Patented Daydream Charms	By : Padfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 24585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N:
Sorry if I kept you all waiting for the update. Due to the extended problems with the
site, my account had been devoid of my stories and I couldn�t update. Also, I have been backpacking through in
India for the past month, so I barely had access to a computer. Anyway, from now on there�s one chapter
a day.

Chapter 2

Was
that really it?

Hermione
felt restless. She had tried to
make herself believe that the conclusion she had come up with was satisfactory
to settle her mystification, but she felt she needed something more. Malfoy should not have been in her
dream. She had been grateful for
Malfoy�s absence in the great hall the next morning, for Hermione didn�t feel
ready to be confronted by the sight of him. She was certain others would be able
to see the mortification and embarrassment radiating from her very being. Still, she had caught herself raking her
eyes over the Slytherin table on multiple occasions, searching for the shock of
silvery-blond hair belonging to the obnoxious brat that invaded her dream. Hermione knew she couldn�t have peace
without knowing for certain that Malfoy�s presence as her dream-lover was indeed
an accidental one-time occurrence.

Hermione
had briefly debated on asking the Weasley twins about the possibility of having
an existent person portraying a character in one of their daydreams, but had
decided against it. If she�d ask,
they would know about her debacle and they�d no doubt start drilling her about
the identity of this person and pester her about it. No, the fewer people knew about it the
better. Instead, she had sent an
owl to Weasley�s Wizarding Wheezes, placing an order for a whole batch of
Daydream Charms, so she could try them out and soothe her distress by proving to
herself that Malfoy wasn�t invading her dreams anymore.

So
she found herself lying on her bed on a Saturday afternoon, canopy drapes pulled
around, and ready to perform one of the Daydream Charms she had received from
Weasley�s Wizarding Wheezes again.
She tried not to feel excited, to pretend this was solely to satisfy her
disturbed state of mind, but she couldn�t help but feel eager to undergo another
experience like the one before; to feel so wanton, so alive, so
sexual. It had been like
another part of her had awoken, as part of herself hadn�t known existed and she
liked it, as much as she wanted to pretend that she didn�t.

Hermione
swallowed the potion, said the incantation (�Miles Militis�) and laid herself on
her back; letting the familiar fog consume her and take her into another
life.


Hermione waved some pestering flies away in annoyance. She marvelled at how quiet it was here,
even though there was a terrible war being waged not too far away. Every evening she liked to look at the
sunset while sitting on the hard wooden front porch of the old farm she had
momentarily taken residence in. She
had imagined many prospects when she had signed herself up as a nurse to help in
the war, but she had not envisioned herself to be sitting here in this
situation. Each and every morning
Hermione had to ask herself what she was doing here, wasting her time in an old
vacant farm in northern Belgium, nursing a soldier of the enemy back to
health. She could be out there,
saving the lives of her compatriots, but no. She could have left the soldier lying by
the side of the road, like all the other medics had done, but she didn�t. He had been severely wounded and
unconscious, but she had been able to see him breathing, although faintly. She hadn�t seen a Nazi, but an injured
man in need for assistance, so she had jumped off the wagon to help him.

She
had watched the medical team drive off, leaving her alone in a strange country,
without shelter and to look after a man she didn�t even know; a man who was the
enemy and had probably killed many of her countrymen. That was two months ago. She didn�t know what had urged her to do
what she had done that day. She had
actually been hoping the soldier would die soon so she would still have time to
catch up with the medical team and could do some �real� work. He had been shot in the stomach and had
lost a lot of blood; there had been little chance he would survive, but he
did. The soldier recovered, albeit
slowly. When he had first awoken,
Hermione had been forced to tie him to the bed to stop his attempts at leaving,
which would no doubt have caused his wound to open up
again.

At
first, Hermione had been glad to see that he had awoken, the weeks alone with an
unconscious man having left her yearning for some basic adult conversation. Even though he had been awake and alert
for some time now, he had proven to be terrible company; not only did they not
speak the same language, but that he was also a grouchy bugger. In the first few days, he blatantly
refused to accept anything she offered; kicking her away whenever she tried to
change his bandages and spitting out his food like a spoiled child, until pain
and hunger took over from his pride.
He started to let Hermione take care of him the way she saw fit, even
though he still had the tendency to shout nasty things at her in German, which
she in return decided to selectively ignore.

He
was a stereotypical breed of the Arian race: blond hair, grey-blue eyes and too
haughty for his own good. A little
gratitude would have been nice, thank you!
Did he think she found it enjoyable to spend two months with no one for
company but a grumpy German? The
only thing that has been fun was the occasional time she had to wash
him. To a nurse a patient�s body
should just be a body, but honestly; Hermione wasn�t blind. If every patient
would look like him, she would have been one happy camper.

Hermione
knew he would be leaving today, back to join the battle, and frankly, she was
sad to see him go. She had told him
more about herself than she had told anyone, her most inner secrets and wildest
dreams. Sure, he didn�t understand
a word of English, but it had been nice to have someone listen to her
anyway. She had wondered aloud
about where he had grown up, what kind of job he did before he joined the war,
whether he was married or had any children. Sometimes, when she caught him staring
out the window, she thought she could see something in his eyes; a wish to be
home again, to not be part of this war and to live his life in peace. If this war ended tomorrow, Hermione
might have to live with the knowledge that she had aided the enemy, but she
would also be enriched with the understanding that even the enemy is human and
wasn�t a faceless entity that didn�t deserve mercy.

Hermione turned around, alerted by heavy
footsteps, and looked up to see the soldier packed and ready. Funny, she didn�t even know his
name.

�Well,
I guess you�re leaving,� she said, standing up and dusting the sand away from
her skirt.

He
didn�t reply, probably because he hadn�t understood what she�d said. He let his bag drop to the floor and
took a few steps forward. Hermione
fought the urge to recoil; he seemed so tall all of the sudden. He had always been weak, bedridden and
at her mercy; now he was a vital young man, a soldier of the enemy. She gasped when he took her hands in his
own, a gentle gesture she had not been expecting.

�
Du
hast mehr f�r mich getan, als ich verdient habe," he said. �Du hast mich
gerettet und f�r mich gesorgt, selbst als
ich Deine Hilfe ablehnte.
Es ist mir nicht
m�glich, das usmass meiner Dankbarkeit in Worte zu fassen, aber mit Deiner
Erlaubnis werde ich durch Taten sprechen."

Hermione gaped at him. She had never heard him say anything
more than his habitual whinges, of which she didn�t care what he meant. Right now, she wished she had understood
what he said, for it seemed important.

She
shrieked when suddenly her back made contact with the wooden pole of the porch
and her lips were captured in a bruising kiss. When her mind had sufficiently caught up
with what was happening, she tried to shove the soldier away, but he was too
strong for her. His lips had
engulfed hers in the most sensuous lip-lock, his tongue brushing past them and
curling alongside hers. Somehow,
she could sense he wasn�t trying to take what he wanted; he was trying to
persuade her, invite her, to come out and play.   As he kissed her soundly, she
tasted a sweet tang on his lips, remnants from the strawberries he had eaten
after breakfast, the ones she had picked in the back yard. It had been so long since she had been
in the embrace of a man, way too long.
She had spent months keeping herself strong, putting her own needs and
desires on a shelf to be able to do what needed to be done. Hermione thought she understood the
soldier�s brash actions; he wanted to say thank you for her being there in his
time of need by tending to her needs for once. And honestly, who was she to
refuse?

Hermione
moaned, circling her arms around his neck; letting him know she consented. She let out a sudden squeal when his
hands roughly grabbed her bum and lifted her body off the floor, her legs
dangling on either side of his waist, and carried her back into the house. He went into what used to be a sitting
room and laid her down onto the stuffy old sofa. She was a little surprised when he
didn�t start kissing her again, or started removing her shirt or her knickers,
but instead went to remove her shoes.
She suppressed a groan of embarrassment when she saw the state of her
feet, which were in dire need of a pedicure... or at least in urgent need of a
new nail file. The young soldier
didn�t seem to mind though and started massaging her feet. Hermione whimpered when his fingers
worked the soles of her feet, his hands more skilled than she had imagined them
to be. Maybe he was a chiropractor
by profession... or perhaps just a good lover.

He
put the sole of her foot against his firm chest and started massaging her ankle,
while slowly running his hands along her calves. She felt like wriggling and moaning, but
felt a little self-conscious about doing that since it felt odd to react like
this over having someone merely rubbing her feet. He took her other leg and massaged it,
all the while moving his hands up her thighs. He put her feet on either side of him
and started to kiss her feet, caressing her calves and slowly working his way up
her leg, kissing a trail towards the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Hermione trembled in anticipation when
he started kissing her higher up her body and at the same time started prying
down her knickers. She lifted her
hips so he could remove the � in Hermione�s opinion - unsightly garment and peel
it off her legs. She hadn�t exactly
brought to most sexy pairs of lingerie when preparing to go to the front since
she hadn�t exactly been expecting on doing this. She shuddered when he
slowly ran his tongue along the inside of her inner thigh, his hand reaching up
to carefully spread her folds.

�Oh
my God!� Hermione gasped when she felt his tongue move over the moist skin
of her pussy and... and... she had heard about this, but no man had ever
actually done this to her. She felt her cheeks burn as his tongue moved
along her folds in long, slow strokes, caressing her with enough pressure to
reach her clit. Cunnilingus had
always seemed rather icky to her, and the fact that no man she had slept with
had ever offered to perform it made her conclude it was something decent people
just didn�t do, that it was an activity belonging solely in brothels. If that were so, Hermione would have to
find a pimp when the war would end, for this felt just so good! She quivered under him when the flat of
his tongue slipped between her wet folds.
Her entire body was aflame just from having his tongue between her
thighs, her aching flesh screaming and yearning in a way no hand or penis had
ever managed to do. The feeling of
his tongue laving at her was almost too much to bear. Never before had she been pleasured this
thoroughly. She could feel her own
wetness dripping alongside her arse and tried not to feel embarrassed about
knowing that he had managed to get her so wet he couldn�t keep up with the flow
of her juices.

She
couldn�t stop herself from contracting the muscles of her vagina, her body
crying out to have something inside of her. As if reading her mind, the soldier
slowly let his fingers tease the sensitive skin at her opening. She let out a noise in-between a moan
and a whine, after which he eased two fingers inside her cleft, stroking her
swollen flesh. She automatically
tightened around him when his digits curved inside of her to touch that
sensitive spot on the upper wall of her cavern. As he kept sucking on her clit and his
fingers circled around that spot inside of her, his other hand grabbed a tighter
hold of her hip; trying to keep her body somewhat in place as she was writhing
under him. When Hermione looked
down, she noticed that he was watching her, his grey eyes devouring her very
soul. There was something
tremendously sexy about him watching her face while he just as easily could have
looked somewhere else.

She
felt the pressure in the pit of her stomach building and knew her orgasm was
approaching. She hadn�t had sexual
release for a long time, nor could she remember having ached for a climax as
much as she needed one now, so she knew the orgasmic explosion she�d receive
would be substantial. Hermione kept
eye contact with him until she couldn�t hold on any longer and climaxed; her
head thrown back against the armrest, her mouth opening in a silent cry and her
body shuddering violently as the soldier lapped at her juices, pleasuring her
until all spasms had subsided and Hermione collapsed into the sofa in a panting,
satisfied mush.

She
opened her eyes when she felt him smoothening down her skirt to cover her
up. He walked over to the head of
the sofa, kneeled down and leaned in to give Hermione a soft, gentle kiss on the
lips.

�Ich
werde Dich nie vergessen, Liebes,�
he said with a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before standing
up again and walking out the door.

Hermione
slowly got up from the sofa and went to the front porch to watch him leave. She could still see him, heading towards
the forest nearby, probably to avoid running in with an enemy squad or a group
of angry locals while on his own.

�I�ll
never forget you either,� she said, leaning against the doorway as she watched
him look back once more and give her one last curt nod.

Hermione
found herself surrounded by mist, enveloping her, then parting again, until she
found herself back in her dorm room at Hogwarts. She opened her eyes with a start, her
breath coming out it quick pants.
Rubbing her legs together, she felt her core bothered by a throbbing
sensation. Unable to stop herself,
Hermione snuck her hand past the waistband of her knickers, the ache too severe
to ignore. She had tried
masturbating in the past, but never did she actually succeed in doing it;
rubbing her fingers against her pussy simply didn�t do anything. Once she had even used a hand mirror to
make sure her fingers were really touching her clit, but she found that running
her fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves felt closer to pain than
pleasure. Ever since, Hermione had
resigned her attempts to self-exploration, praying to the gods that things would
magically fall into place once she would start having sex with a boy.

Hermione
gasped when she found her sex to be sopping wet, the skin of her pussy soft and
warm. The knowledge that it had
never been like this made her feel hopeful and she bit her lip as she urgently
searched for her clitoris, which she remembered to having brought her such
pleasure in her dream. She groaned
when her fingers brushed against the little nub and she thanked the heavens for
finally receiving the physical responses her hands had thus far been
unsuccessful to create. Her other
hand kneaded her breast through her shirt, her arm pressing against the other
one, finding the soft globes more responsive than they usually were. She closed her eyes, imagining herself
being ravished by the soldier, to have his head in-between her thighs and
bringing her to unknown peaks of pleasure.

Hermione
kept this up for over forty minutes, feeling her arousal building up, then
receding again, building, receding... like waves of an ocean, before pulling her
hand out of her knickers and turning unto her side. She was panting heavily with a sated
smile on her face. Even though she
hadn�t been able to produce an orgasm, she couldn�t help but feel ecstatic about
having gotten as far as she had.
Perhaps she simply needed some more practice. Though she hadn�t had sexual release,
she wasn�t bothered by her yearning and frustration as much as
before.


Hermione scrambled off the bed and went to take a shower, too giddy about
her progress in self-exploration that she totally forgot to be aggravated
because her initial theory had now been proven wrong; her fantasy soldier had
been portrayed in the exact appearance of Draco Malfoy.

*******

End
of chapter 2

A/N:
Short chapter, I know. The next is
more than twice as long though.

A/N
2: This daydream was dedicated to Vashka.
Thanks for the request, Vashka, I hope it�s close to what you had in
mind.

A/N
3: These are the translations if anyone is curious about what Draco said:

�You
have done more for me than I deserved,� he said. �You saved me, and took care of me, even
when I refused your help. It�s
impossible for me to show the extent of my gratitude in words, but with your
permission I will show them in actions.�

...and...

�I�ll
never forget you, love,� he said with a smile,...
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Patented Daydream Charms