Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128270 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N:
LLHati: Hahaha! Thank you kindly. (And I’m a chick. But I purposely chose a sexually ambiguous name to keep people guessing.) I hope you like what’s to come :)
DS: “thank fuck it’s finally here!”—My sentiments exactly. :)
“I have a feeling she’s a lot more forward than in TMG, even more than GP”—I’m not sure how to categorize her in this one. I guess you’ll have to wait till the end and tell me your impressions of her.
Yeeeees, the pitch was totally for you. There are some more scattered throughout.
“so now I already like him, D’oh!”—Mwhahahaha!
(Thank you for the heads up on the doubled words. I fixed it this morning. Fixes are much more laborious across four sites.)
I assure you Crotchville is nothing like Centerville. :)
You know, you and one other person were the only one’s who hazarded a guess as to who’d sneaked up on her. All shall be revealed this chapter. (But, yeah, it’s Draco.)
2—Prelude
“Whenever this world is cruel to me, I got you to help me forgive. Ooh, you make me live now, honey.”—Queen
(Draco)
Hermione spun around, her hair whipping his face like a bushy flogger. Draco pulled back so he wouldn’t be blinded in the whirlwind. She looked absolutely mortified—her eyes wide as cue balls and her gaze darting around as if she were searching for an impromptu exit. He’d never seen her so skittish. Interesting. What could have goosed Goody Granger into such a state of hysteria?
His eyes settled on the book she had sitting on the shelf, and Draco couldn’t help grinning. He’d recognize those illustrious illustrations anywhere. Was the Pristine Princess a closeted Kink Kitten? The very notion was delicious. “What’s this, Granger? Looking for a good bedtime story?”
Her expression pinched into a pucker of worry, and she smashed her hand over his mouth. “Shh,” she hissed under her breath. “Keep your voice down.”
Keep his voice down? Why? It suddenly dawned on him that the book was not her dirty little secret. She’d been looking through the shelves when he sneaked up behind her. Someone had become the unwitting subject of her surreptitious surveillance. Leaning down, he peered through the shelves to see what had gotten her so worked up.
His father and Severus were sitting on the couch, engaged in some profound conversation . . . and some even more profound petting. He was impressed they were both still vertical.
Lucius and Severus were an odd pair, but they somehow complemented each other once a person got past the initial surprise. Draco had become privy to that surprise when he was just eight years old. He’d walked in on his parents and Snape all in bed together. Naked. Later, his mother had given him some child-appropriate explanation, telling him that Snape was their “special friend,” and sometimes he stayed in their bed—like a sleepover. Draco may have been a bit wet at eight, but he wasn’t so thick that he bought that rubbish. He knew about sex, and he knew that whatever was going on between his parents and Snape had more to do with his father than his mother.
It was Lucius who was obsessed with touch, which was cruelly incongruent with his stance on hugging his son—or rather not hugging his son.
Over the years Draco had become inured to his parents’ constant snogging and groping. It was commonplace. Boring. He would have been more stunned to see them not touching. His mother had told him that, as a small child, he would try to push them apart when his father kissed her. Apparently he was quite the shin kicker, and his father hadn’t appreciated the competition. Draco couldn’t remember doing any such thing, but imagining it made him smile. Perhaps he’d been a toddler with a sense of honor.
Or maybe he was just jealous. His father had always encouraged him to take what was his, so it was Lucius's own fault; the lech shouldn’t have been manhandling his mummy.
But Lucius had a voracious appetite, and one violent ankle-biter wouldn’t dissuade his desire. The man was addicted to pleasure. And once Draco discovered the concept of buggery, the “sleepovers” suddenly made even more sense. Strangely, he’d never questioned his father’s sexual orientation. Straight or gay was immaterial; Lucius was just a slut for sensuality. Snape was simply offering him more choices.
Despite all the extra-marital fucking, Draco never spent a single second worrying about the strength of his parents’ marriage. Lucius adored Narcissa. He was devoted to her. They were like newlyweds who hadn’t figured out that the honeymoon was supposed to end when they got home—even after thirty years.
When Narcissa died, Lucius had died with her. He came home from the funeral and wrapped himself in the shrouds of his sheets and buried himself in their bed. The windows were draped in black curtains, blocking out all available light, which added to the sepulcher stagnation pervading the room. Lucius holed himself away, only emerging to occasionally pick at some food or wander the halls at night.
After a year of that, Draco was seriously worried. Lucius looked like a corpse, his face sunken with grief, the glint gone from his glare. Lucius rebuffed Draco’s attempts to help, so in a fit of desperation, Draco had owed Severus. He’d just been hoping for some suggestion, an insight that might move his father in a new direction; but Snape had gone beyond the call of duty and shown up in person the very next morning.
Draco couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved. He’d been completely lost trying to tackle the problem on his own. Snape spent the entire weekend locked in Lucius’s room, but since no dulcet grunts echoed through the corridors, Draco assumed they were just talking. Whatever worked. Draco wasn’t one to judge others’ coping strategies. He wasn’t exactly a pillar of sanity himself.
After almost three years, the hole in his own heart remained as fresh as the day of his mother’s death. He didn’t cry himself to sleep anymore, but he still felt that dagger of sorrow piercing his chest. He’d lost something irreplaceable. The war had taken everything he’d thought was important—prestige, comfort, influence. When all was said and done, his mother’s unconditional love was the only thing left intact. He’d clung to it with every fiber of his being. The prejudice and pureblood propaganda had been abandoned, shunned; that nonsense had almost destroyed them. All he wanted was the solace of her embrace. Safety. Acceptance. He didn’t know how important those things were until they’d been taken from him.
But his one remaining lifeline had been ripped away. He’d been left torn and raw, his insides at the mercy of life’s jagged edge. Solace had to be sought elsewhere. He tried his father first . . . then Firewhisky . . . then sex. None were successful. His father was as warm as ice, the Firewhisky just made him numb, and the sex only distracted him until he came.
But sometimes numb and distracted were preferable to the never-ending ache in his soul. He had to take what he could get. It was soothing to share his bed with another warm body, but that wasn't enough to silence the little boy in him who just wanted his mummy. He was twenty-seven years old for Merlin's sake. Shouldn't he have outgrown such juvenile neediness? No matter how logically he looked at it, he couldn’t resist the siren’s call of a willing witch moaning beneath him and screaming his name with enough volume to drown out the echo of his hollow heart. Each conquest was a frantic attempt to forget, a desperate search for a caring touch. It wasn't the rutting he was after, it was the bleak intimacy, a second's connection and closeness. Shagging wasn't really what he needed, but he didn't know how else to achieve that moment of peace.
But those witches were no more than filler. Distraction. They just wanted to bed a bad boy. None of them knew the real Draco Malfoy. They didn’t understand him.
Except Granger. She knew. She was the only witch who really listened to him. And then she’d mull over what he said and ask him about it later. She cared. When he wanted to get pissed, she’d go along and look after him, and then when he was too trashed to think, she’d take him back to her tiny flat and set him up on her lumpy couch and let him sleep off the alcohol.
She had become his closest confidante. All those years of house rivalry at school now seemed like wasted energy. Thank Merlin she was the forgiving sort, or he wouldn’t even have that one outlet. The only downside was she didn’t seem interested in him sexually. Which was a shame. Tragic really. The one witch who gave him the care he craved was the only one who didn't try to get in his trousers. He never let on, but he fantasized about her all the time—especially when he spent the night at her flat.
He'd imagine her waking him from a bad dream, her warm hand on his chest, her kiss on his brow. She'd whisper that he was all right . . . and he'd believe it coming from her lips. Her arms would wrap around him, and she'd climb in next to him and press his cheek to her heart. By that time he was usually humping the crease of the couch cushions; in his mind they were her thighs clutching his cock.
For the past four months, he'd been cleverly avoiding other witches at closing time just so he could go home with Granger. Her couch might be lumpy, but he preferred it over his own bed.
He wished there was some way to suggest they become closer. If he was having sex with his favorite witch, maybe he’d finally find some lasting happiness. But how did a wizard bridge the gap between mate and mating? She wasn’t at all like his usual dates—much more complex. He couldn’t just sweet talk her; she’d think he’d gone completely mental. And if he said the wrong thing, he’d be risking their friendship. So offering a sympathetic pussy massage was probably out. As was cordial cunnilingus or hospitable humping, all of which he’d considered. She’d probably smack him and never let him near her couch cushions again.
She was always so uptight and respectable. His weekend antics garnered nothing more than an eye roll and a weary shake of her head. He had always assumed she just wasn’t all that interested in sex. She’d only had two real boyfriends in all the years he’d known her. He pictured them sitting around reading or maybe indulging in a chaste kiss at the end of the night. But finding her with his favorite book, spying on his father and Snape—maybe he’d gotten her all wrong.
Draco’s eyes slid to the side, a lecherous smile curling his lips. Closeted Kink Kitten indeed. He reached up and removed her hand from his mouth.
“Were you perving on my father and Snape?” he whispered.
“No!”
If she looked any guiltier, the Wizengamot was going to suddenly appear and send her off to Azkaban. Draco shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear. “Then why do your fingers smell like a pair of Saturday night knickers?”
She snatched away her hand and hid it behind her back, her face flaming to a nice shade of Liars Lava Red. “They do not.”
“Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty,” he said in a whispered sing-song. “That book has some inspired suggestions about what to do when you catch a witch with her hand down her panties.”
“You found me in no such position. Now let’s get out of here before we’re spotted.”
Draco glanced through the shelves again. Maybe Granger needed some excitement in her life, a little jolt to nudge her in the right direction. She certainly needed to loosen up. No witch that beautiful should spend all her time buried in books and Ministry work. She should have some fun.
And he wanted to have a little fun with her.
Smiling, Draco and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be silly. It’s only polite to go out and say hello.”
Prelude—Prelude, musical composition, usually brief, that is generally played as an introduction to another, larger musical piece.—Britannica.com
“You're my Best Friend” by Queen. John Deacon, who plays both the Wurlitzer and bass in the '76 recording, wrote this song for his wife.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wAsPu-FTBsw
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