Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- 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
- 27
- 28
- 29
A/N: Next chapter is Lucius, and I want to make sure I do the scene justice (it's one of my favorite sex scenes). I'm guessing it'll take me as long as this one took. But the chapter after that (Snape) is 90% ready, so it shouldn't take long. Hope you all enjoy Draco here :)
Nightstar: I'm glad you survived the no-smut :) Here's something to make up for it. Hope you enjoy <3
DS: Making lemon-curd doughnuts? Is that what the kids are calling these days. A bit sour for my taste, but to each his own :)
Ooooo, I'm so proud of myself for giving you the Lucius Feels. And your comment about Draco wearing his heart on his sleeve is going to be poetically accurate later in the story. Excellent observation :)
"this made me sad too (why was I so sad reading this? Is it the two glasses of hot gin I had tonight? Never!)"--Hahahaha! No. Never. Perish the thought.
"let me guess . . . Snape is the banana?"--Am I that obvious?
"Frequent fucker points?"--Bahahahaha! Sign me up.
The next gang-bang is a little ways off. There's individual chapters first (and that gang-bang is a doozy of a chapter--a lot happens in it).
MissFantasic: Mmmm, binge-reading fun. Sounds like me. :) Glad you're enjoying it. (And she might be making a choice soon.)
28—Refrain
“Bad, bad, bad, bad, boy, you make me feel so good.”—Gloria Estefan
(Draco)
Hermione pulled him into her flat and set her briefcase by the door before whisking off her cinched twill jacket in a smooth flourish. So efficient, Draco thought with an affectionate smile. She was a walking wet dream in her work suit—the way her pencil skirt hugged her arse was a miracle, and her fitted blouse followed the arc of her breasts like a second skin. Too bad she always had some blasted jacket covering up the best bits. And robes on top of that.
Draco liked how commanding she looked, but he didn’t like trying to grope her through six layers of material. Well, he enjoyed it; he just found it difficult. His gaze followed the sway of her back and settled on the curve her bum. How he loved to see her peel away the trappings of the “working girl” to reveal the woman beneath. It was like a personality striptease.
Sliding his hands around her waist, Draco drew her body against his and pressed his nose into her bushy curls. She smelled of honey and vanilla and . . . Hermione. His body immediately relaxed, sinking into her sweet scent.
After the day he’d had, he just wanted to forget the fucking Ministry and lose himself in his witch. Hermione always made everything better. He didn’t know what Severus and his father were doing with her, but Draco was  having the time of his life. Despite her studious appearance and pertinacious work habits, Granger was a desirous witch. She was constantly touching him, smiling at him, making him feel like the luckiest wizard to ever walk the planet.
It was as if she knew him inside and out—and she didn’t seem to mind all the occlusions she found lurking beneath his surface. Her approval meant everything to him, and to have her embrace his best along with his worst brought him a sense of peace and belonging he’d forgotten was possible.
Hermione patted his hand and leaned back into him. “Mmmm,” she purred. “There’s my sweet boy. Are you ready for that bath now, or did you want to eat first?”
Draco cupped a breast in one hand and pulled her closer. “Bath.”
Her hips rolled against his groin, calling his cock to attention. Draco winced and stifled his moan on the top of her head. She wasn’t wasting any time, was she?
“Come on, love. Let’s get you into the tub. I know you need to unwind.” She spun around in his arms and mischievously smiled up at him. “Did you want to be my bad boy tonight or my good boy?”
Sweet Salazar! Was she trying to make him pass out? He’d need at least a modicum of blood in his brain to navigate the flat. Draco touched his forehead to hers and took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. “I’m always your good boy.”
Her smile widened, and she tipped up her chin to kiss his lips. “Yes, you are. And good boys get the nicest rewards.” Her hands smoothed over his chest and crept beneath the front of his suit jacket; brushing her palms over his shoulders, she began to push it off, skimming down his arms to free him from its confining lines.
Draco had worn his pale pink dress shirt and light grey Italian suit that day, perfectly accessorized with his white and grey silk tie. He had the ideal frame for the suit’s slim cut, and most importantly, he liked to catch her ogling his arse when he took off his robes at lunch. 
Although his cock was currently at odds with its dwindling accommodations, he still felt he’d made the right choice. She was getting an eyeful, her gaze lingering on his package as if it were Christmas morning and she wanted to rip him open.
“You look nice today,” she commented blithely, one finger tripping over the buttons binding his shirt.
“Thank you, miss.”
Her eyes shot to his, and a secretive smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.” Gripping the point of his tie, she dragged him down to her level. “I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off the day.”
Her husky voice feathered over his lips, and Draco’s mouth parted to breathe her in.
“First I need to get you naked,” she whispered, her nimble fingers tugging the knot at his throat.
Draco’s eyes fluttered shut as she brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. “Yes, miss.”
She slipped his tie from his collar and dropped it on the table by the door. “Then I’ll get you nice and clean in the tub. Does that sound good?”
Good? It sounded like heaven. Granger gave the best baths. He grunted in agreement, too busy tracking her path across his belt for a proper answer.
“Was that a yes?” she asked, tapping the buckle with a patient tick tick tick of her fingernail.
“Yes, miss,” he whimpered. “Please!”
She swiftly pulled open his belt and traced the button at his waist as if admiring its circularity. “Your trousers are getting very tight, love. Do I need to undress you right now?”
“Please unzip me, miss. I just need some more room.”
Hermione tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic nod. “It looks like you need a lot more room.”
With staggering dexterity, she flicked open the top of his trousers and promptly lowered the zip, her palm cupping his aching erection as she parted his flies. Draco hissed at the sudden shift and grope. He was grateful for the breathing room, but his underwear was still dragging him in the wrong direction. And she wouldn’t stop rubbing him, gripping his shaft through that last layer, her fingers wriggling down to tickle his balls.
“Thank you, miss,” he growled through gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on each inhale and exhale. Coming as soon as they walked through the door wouldn’t look good on his record.
There was a gentle tugging around his hips—Hermione pushing his trousers to the floor and then drawing his boxer briefs over his thighs. Peeking through his slitted lids, he watched as she knelt to pull down his underwear all the way to the floor, as if she were undressing a child. His straining cock bobbed in her face, but she only gave it a passing glance.
“Toe off your shoes for me,” she said, patting one loafer through the pile of material.
Draco felt absolutely ridiculous being naked from the waist down. His hard-on kept pushing out from under his shirt like a kid peeking through the curtain at a theatre. Didn’t she want him naked? He started to unbutton his shirt as he kicked off his shoes.
Hermione gently slapped away his hands and motioned for him to come forward. “Step out of your clothes.”
He was disappointed when she leaned back to give him room—quite liking the idea of plowing into her face—but for some unfathomable reason she seemed more interested in his socks than his cock. 
Hermione ran her fingers along his calf and looked up at him. “Lift your foot.”
When he did so, she peeled off his sock and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Other one."
Draco couldn’t believe he was letting her do this to him two feet from the front door. Merlin’s beard, what if someone stopped by?
“We’re almost done,” she said brightly. “Just your shirt.”
“I could have had it off by now,” he muttered under his breath.
Hermione popped back up and started on the remaining buttons. “First of all,” she said in a firm, but seductive, tone, “I didn’t want you to get cold while I took off your trousers. Secondly, I intend to take care of you tonight, and that means I undress you. Is that clear?”
Draco’s head was spinning. She was going to “take care of him”? What did that entail? And why did hearing it make his dick go completely mad? “Yes, miss.”
Hermione smiled and undid his cuffs before helping him out of his shirt. “There, now. Doesn’t that feel better?”
Blinking, Draco searched his brain for a word to describe how he was feeling. Better might not be the most accurate description. Loose and wild came to mind, but not before vulnerable. Vulnerable? Yes. Even though she’d seen him naked a hundred time, there was something about the way she stripped him that left him feeling exposed and on display.
But that wasn’t all bad.
There was always a moment with her where he felt out of control, as if he was plunging down a mountain in a child’s red wagon with no brakes. But if he gave in to the thrill of the experience, the flare of panic would fade and then transform, leaving him basking in the soft glow of her assurance and strength.
That was exactly what he needed to feel better: adventurous security. He knew it was asking a lot of a witch to embody opposing ends of the spectrum, but she seemed to naturally radiate both excitement and protection.
Hermione wrapped her hand around his cock and lightly stroked. “It looks like you’re all ready for your bath.”
Shivering with anticipation, Draco nodded.
“See,” she said wryly, “you are cold.”
Draco kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t cold at all. Feverish was more like it.
“I’d better warm you up.” Keeping hold of his shaft, she turned and started for the bathroom. 
Draco followed after her—and his cock. He saw Crooks observing them from the kitchen doorway as they passed through the front room, and Draco almost burst into a fit of nervous laughter. He didn’t know why he should be embarrassed to be seen by that cat—Merlin knew Crookshanks had witnessed far more depraved interactions—but he could swear those yellow eyes were rolling. Perhaps Crooks was perturbed that his nap would, once again, need to be relocated.
Or, more likely, he was wondering how Draco had been stripped and enslaved in less than five minutes.
Draco shrugged at the cat as if he couldn’t explain himself and then dutifully turned down the hall to accompany his mistress into her tiled paradise.
Once in the bathroom, Hermione released him in order to stopper the drain and start the water. Draco’s dick struggled to maintain contact, straining toward her as if it could drag him across the floor like a team of horses. Draco told it to behave, but his entreaty was cut short when she began to unbutton her blouse.
Hermione smiled at him as she slowly revealed the white lace of her bra. The dark pink of her areolae were enticingly visible behind the sheer material, and his mouth began to water at the sight of her tight nipples reaching out for his touch.
“Come get in the tub,” she said, waving him over. “I’ll go find a flannel.”
Draco angled his hips to slide past her, but she caught him by the waist and pressed her body to his in a quick spin, moving him toward the tub and her toward the door. His erection was trapped in the middle, and the partially naked dance had his cock weeping with desperation.
“Go on and get warm.” One hand roamed over his flank, and she gave his arse a friendly squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
Draco nodded obediently. He wanted to stay right there and rut against her like a dog, but he knew better than to push his luck. A spanking wouldn’t be unwelcome, but at the moment, corporal punishment wasn’t really what he was after.
He wanted her to make him forget the day, forget the hassles of the office, forget all the little annoyances that grated at his patience. A sore bum was one way to clear his mind, but he was enjoying this pre-aftercare she’d chosen for the itinerary.
Stepping into the swirling water, Draco breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d gotten the temperature perfect: warm enough to soothe, but not hot enough to boil his bollocks. When he sank down into it, his stomach unknotted, and he closed his eyes, lingering in the relaxation. He’d been too tense lately; it had been eating at him for weeks, but he was grateful for the respite he found in Hermione’s flat.
Just as he was settling back against tub, Hermione breezed back into the room, a white flannel in her hand, her heels nowhere to be seen. She must have kicked them off in the hall. A lazy grin tugged at his mouth, and he slung one arm over the ledge and beckoned her closer.
“Get in with me,” he murmured. “It’s nice and warm.”
Hermione smiled but shook her head. “No. I said I was going to give you a bath, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You’re not getting in with me?” he asked in disbelief. How was he supposed to bathe alone?
“Nope.” Kneeling down on the floor next to him, she gestured toward his feet. “Now stretch out your legs. Bath time starts with the wiggling piggies.”
Draco snorted indelicately, but did as she requested. He enjoyed a good foot fondling as much as the next bloke, so if she wanted to go to such lengths, he was all for the extra bells and whistles.
After wetting the flannel in the water, Hermione wrapped it around his foot and smoothly massaged the line of each metatarsal. He groaned as the delicate muscles connecting each toe gave way to her deft manipulations.
A single fingertip ghosted along the curve of his arch, and Draco jumped, glaring at her grinning mug. “No tickling!”
Hermione snickered. “Are you suuuure?” Another feathery stroke crawled up his sensitive sole.
His leg jerked to the side. “Stop! You’re making me batty.”
Laughing, she went for the other foot. “Okay, okay. How’s this feel?”
She slid a single digit between his toes, skiing though the valley at the base. It sort of tickled, but mostly it made his cock ache. “I guess that’s good.”
With a knowing nod, she started up his left leg. “Did you get to play today?”
“Play? Not that I recall. Unless what we did in the lift at lunch was playing.”
“That’s why you’re so stressed. Growing boys need to work out their excess energy by playing.”
Ah. He could think of many games that might drain his tension. Water weasel. Sunken treasure. Hide the submarine. “What did you have in mind?”
Her hand skated up his inner thigh, grazing the edge of his sac and toying with his pubic hair. “I think since you’ve been such a good boy, you should show me how you touch yourself. Let's call it solo suds.” Her fingers drummed against his length, making him bounce against the surface of the water. “Stroke your cock clean for me, and I’ll . . . see what I can do about the rest of you.”
Draco smirked and gripped himself loosely in one hand. “Am I allowed to come?”
“Not until I say so.”
Mmmm! Yes, Misstress Granger. Shifting his foreskin up over his glans, he left his leaking tip just visible—he knew she liked to see how turned on he was—then drew it back down until it just cleared his corona. He loved wanking for her, and he always tried to last as long as possible just to keep her eyes on his prize. Unfortunately, being told he couldn’t come tended to have the opposite effect, pushing him right up to the edge with a single order.
But still, unbelievably, his mouth spouted out the one request that would cut that sliver of restraint in half. “Can I see your tits?”
She met his eyes, and the flare of heat he saw there made his balls quiver. “If you keep being my good boy,” she whispered, “I’ll let you suck my tits when you get out. Would you like that?”
“Very much,” he rasped.
“Then don’t come until I tell you.” Leaving him to his agonizingly slow wank, she reached back and unhooked her bra. Her breasts suddenly appeared, round and proud, jiggling from their lacy prison like jelly convicts.
Draco was fairly certain he heard angels singing, but he might have just been hallucinating from lack of blood flow to the brain. No matter how many times he saw those magnificent mounds, each unveiling was as rapturous as the first. He knew her body by heart, and he could vividly recreate every sight, feel, smell, and sound she had to offer; but the memories his brain liked best all involved her perfect breasts. He would convince his cock to settle in for an extended wank if it meant he could spend his evening in the presence of such baptacular beauty.
Her plans, however, must have been of the short-term variety, because she immediately cupped his bollocks and rubbed him under the water, rolling each testicle against her palm and palpating the back of his sac as if she were testing a melon. Dammit. That wasn’t playing fair. How was he supposed to last with her influencing his boys like that?
Her fingers slid behind his scrotum, and Draco spread his legs wider so she could get to his perineum. Gods, she’s good at this. His dick was already flexing and throbbing, and he had to take a timeout to squeeze some sense back into his knob.
“Are you ready for me to get you clean?”
Merlin’s baggy balls, how much cleaner could he get? “Yes, miss.”
Her pink lips curled in a wicked grin. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
Stop? Why would he want her to stop?
She picked up the soap and lathered it to a thick froth then methodically coated each digit in sudsy white film. When she went back under his balls, her slick fingers skated over his perineum and grazed his arse. His dick went berserk, struggling in his hand like a wild animal. Oh gods! She did it again, this time lightly stroking his pucker the way you’d pet a cat between the eyes. She’d touched him back there before, but the first three times he’d come on her in mere seconds.
No wonder she’d felt the need to warn him.
Her finger tapped right at the threshold, bouncing against the knot of his entrance as if debating whether to stay and play or try another location. Draco flattened his feet firmly on the tub’s textured bottom and levered his hips toward her hand, whimpering in the most unmanly way. He couldn’t help it; the semen gathering in his bollocks was about to burst from his body in a geyser of ejaculation. Squeezing his glans as hard as he could, he fought the rush. “I can’t make it. I’m gonna come.”
She went still, leaving her finger resting at the gate. “Whenever you get close, just tell me, and I’ll stop moving. But I intend to get you exceedingly clean now. Tell me when you’re ready for more.”
Exceedingly clean? He was going to be sparkling like a damn diamond in a minute. His pelvis gradually relaxed, and when he felt the pre-orgasmic rush settle to an achy roar, he nodded to indicate she could continue.
Hermione’s middle finger pressed on his backdoor, and he suddenly understood what she meant by “exceedingly clean.” His cock loved the idea, having wanked to the thought of her finger fucking his bum about a million times over the years. Dammit, Dicky! Cool it! He wrestled his erection into a manual lockdown. Don’t ruin this for me.
“All right?”
Draco nodded, not trusting his vocal cords to produce anything other than a high-pitched squeak.
She applied a little pressure, and his body bore down, begging for more. He'd never told her what all he'd done to himself over the years. That would be far too embarrassing. Luckily, she'd taken it upon herself to explore the territory. He'd never been with a witch who'd gone for the dark side of the moon so fearlessly. God bless Gryffindor bravery. But despite all his eagerness, his heart was going a mile a minute. Although he’d engaged in some anal fun over the years, he'd always been the penetrator rather than the penetratee. Letting another person invade his body was way more intense than he’d ever imagined.
Her finger wiggled partway into his tract, and Draco froze, holding his breath and concentrating on the sensation of being entered. By Hermione. He’d been buggering himself with various implements since his mid-teens, but he had a sudden flashback to his first rectal experiment—a particularly slutty carrot that had been taunting him in the kitchen for days on end. This was just as magical as that initial impalement, his body, mind, and spirit amazed by the unlimited pleasure his arse could provide. But having Hermione impart that pleasure made it infinitely more sublime. Her eyes were soft with understanding, her fingers calm and sure. She wasn’t poking and prodding like a fumbling neophyte—she was turning his arsehole into somethings divine, blessing it with a seductive benediction.
“You like that?” she murmured.
Draco nodded and squeezed his cock.
Her finger sank a little deeper. She was moving slowly, which relaxed him psychologically, but physically, he was going stark raving mad, his body wailing for more.
“You’re not getting close, are you?”
"Yes, miss."
Hermione smiled. “Don’t come yet. I mean it.”
Draco nodded and pinched his frenulum to keep the eruption at bay. She gently screwed the digit into him, sinking in until he felt the knuckles of her hand butting up against his cheeks.
“Have you done this before?”
He nodded. “Only by myself.”
With a benevolent curl, she brushed his prostate, and a tingling shudder rippled up his spine. Oh Gods! She knew what she was doing. Had she done this before? He couldn’t imagine Snape or his father inviting her to finger their arse. Maybe she’d just read about it. He didn’t really want to think about her practicing such an intimate technique on another man. She’d touched him deeper than anyone ever had—both literally and figuratively—and he wanted what they shared to be as meaningful to her as if was to him.
Hermione rhythmically stimulated that blissful little nugget, keeping the beat like a sexual majorette. Usually he could control himself until she gave the word, but no man should be expected to last with that kind of ecstasy assailing his senses. He stopped stroking, choosing instead to devote his efforts to prolonging her internal celebration.
“I know you’re ready, Draco. Hold off as long as you can.”
“I don’t think I can take any more,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“You mean you want me to stop?”
“No! I just can’t hold off.”
“Take your hand off your dick.”
He automatically assumed their usual “hand-off” position, interlocking his fingers atop his head to give her full access to his body. The prostatic metronome maintained its steady rhythm, but then she gripped his leaking hard-on in her free hand, and Draco almost arched out of the water. Shit shit shit!
“You can touch me if you like.”
Oh thank Merlin! He reached out and palmed her breast in one hand, her nipple stiff against his fingers. Tweaking it, he teased her tip to the tempo she'd chosen.
“Okay. You may come now,” she said quietly.
Draco reached down and clasped his hand around hers, tightening her grip. That was all it took. His balls clenched, and his pelvis spasmed with a bombardment of dazzling contractions. And through every rapturous  explosion, she massaged his pulsating prostate, urging out an unholy flood of semen from, what felt like, the depths of his soul. His entire lower body was nothing but  a throbbing mass of joy. She had his cock precisely aimed so that his his chest and belly took his full load, baptizing him in his own release.
Shivering, Draco closed his eyes and rolled through the aftermath. His heart was hammering, but he could barely hear it over the euphoric buzz in his brain.
“Feeling better?” she asked with a grin
“Immensely,” he whispered, unable to find any volume for his voice.
“Should I keep cleaning you?”
“Maybe you should let me rest a few minutes. I’m all out of cleaning fluid.”
Hermione chuckled as she carefully pulled out, leaving his arse feeling decidedly sad and empty. “It’s a good thing you’re in the tub. You’ve made a right mess of yourself.”
“No, you made a mess of me,” he said with a tired smile. “How will I ever pay you back? One finger or two?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “I’m not done taking care of you yet.”
His brow quirked. “No? Okay, I’m up for another round of naughty nanny. What’s next? Are you going to punish me for not eating my vegetables by sitting on my face?”
She snorted as she washed her hands in the water. “No. But I am going to clean off all this sticky cum so you’re not plastered to the sheets later.”
“Is it bedtime already? I promise not to touch myself tonight Nanny Granger; you don’t have to tie my hands to the headboard again.”
“Stop calling me Nanny Granger,” she snickered. “You’re making me feel like a old spinster.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he quipped.
Laughing, she began his bath anew, rinsing away his semen and teasing his nipples as she stroked his chest. She looked lovely leaning over him like that, bare-breasted, frizzy hair backlit by a halo of fluorescent bathroom lights. He’d never known anyone who made bad lighting look so good.
Once she’d finished both his arms, she wrung out the flannel and draped it over the edge of the tub.
“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s dry you off and get you tucked into bed.”
Draco’s stomach did a double backflip into his liver. That might have been one of the hottest things anyone had ever said to him. How did she know what would melt him faster than ice cream in July? Did she know? Or was she just talking, playing on his usual fantasies?
Hermione shook out a plush white towel and opened her arms to him. Draco stood on shaky legs, rivulets of water trailing down his body like threads of ice. As soon as she saw him shiver, she leaned in and bundled him a heated hug, the towel having been charmed for warmth. Bloody hell. When she said she was going to take care of a wizard, she meant it. And for some unknown reason, her gentle blotting was making him hard again. She wasn’t even below his belt line yet.
When she did travel south, she skipped his package and went straight to his thighs. Hermione waved him from the water, and when he stepped out, she got his calves and feet, drying his entire body but leaving his bits to air out.
She double-checked him for any missed spots then smiled up at him and went for the goods. She dabbed his bobbing erection and pressed the towel between his thighs to get at his sac. Draco grunted and spread his legs to encourage her to keep going, but she tapped his thigh to get him to turn.
Draco closed his eyes and sighed as she thoroughly dried his arse. Too bad her cleaning efforts wouldn’t last. His dick was already cocked and loaded, preparing to leak at the least provocation. He had a feeling she knew that.
Hermione stood and unzipped her skirt. She wiggled it over her hips and let it drop to the floor; then she rolled down her tights and stepped out of them, leaving just her forest-green silk knickers.
Without a word, she took his hand and led him across the hall to her room. Once she was settled in the bed, she patted the mattress next to her, and he leapt at the opportunity. Curling into her, Draco inhaled her scent, which effectively shut off his brain and switched on his hips, and Hermione budged up against the pillows so his head rested on her breast. Was that an invitation to indulge?
He nuzzled the round flesh as she combed her fingers through his hair and tickled the nape of his neck with her pinky. That was definitely encouragement. Kissing his way over to her rose quartz areola, he laved one pliant nipple, drawing it out to play. When it was beautifully peaked, he took her in his mouth with a hungry growl.
She was like butterscotch on his tongue, her steamy skin dripping over his taste buds and coating them in her flavor. She was sweet and salty, musky and delicious. If he could, he would have eaten every meal off her body, blending her essence with each mouthful. She was the secret ingredient he didn’t know he’d been missing.
His tongue wound around her stiffening tip, swiping over the puffy boundaries of her areola and teasing her until she growled. That was his signal to switch sides. 
By the time he’d sucked both her nipples raw, she was writhing like a beast and tearing at his hair. He fucking loved that. He wanted her to get rougher, to lose control because of him. He wanted her to take her pleasure from him and ride him ragged. He wanted to be hers.
Skimming his hand down her naked belly, he crept into her knickers. Was she ready for more? He was about to find out. His middle finger traced her slit, and he groaned when he discovered the profuse satin spilling from her folds. Was it the nipple play that had done that, or did she really love giving him a bath? He eased his finger deeper, eliciting a wanton moan and inciting a flurry of hip pops. Yesssss.
Her nails scraped up the back of his scalp, digging in when he peeled off her panties to press his lips to her mons. A strategic pelvic curl brought her clit into the kiss, and Draco slipped his tongue along the silken line of her slit.
“That’s it,” she breathed. “Show me what a good boy you are.”
Draco grunted in excitement and dove in, gobbling up her honeyed sex in a tempest of tongue and teeth. She cried out and bucked into his face, riding the storm like a veteran jockey atop a thoroughbred. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and when she yanked him closer, making his roots scream, he ground his cock into the comforter to staunch the steady drip flowing from his weeping glans.
“Lower, love! Lick my pussy.”
He grinned, shifting down to lap at her entrance. Oh Sweet Beetle of the Bard! How could one witch make so much juice? It was pooled just inside her opening, waiting for him to slake himself with her passion. Slurping loudly so she could feel it as well as hear it, he sucked the cream from her core. He used to do that when he was a child: sucking the center from a chocolate like a candy vampire. It seemed that had been good preparation for a future with Granger.
His tongue shot up her channel, and he lapped at her swollen walls, trying to get as deep as he could, searching for more sweet filling to sate his appetite.
“OH FUCK!” she shouted, banging her head against the bed. “Finger my arse, Draco. I’m so close!”
Draco picked up his head to catch his breath. She looked absolutely deranged, which was exactly how he thought a witch should look on the brink of orgasm. He pushed back her legs with both hands to see if her pussy and arsehole were equally insane.
Her tiny little whorl looked far too dry for fingering. Or perhaps her pussy was setting an unnaturally high standard for lubrication. He’d better get it nice and wet first.
“Go on,” she panted. “It’s safe. I cleaned it when I got the flannel.”
Draco eyebrows quirked into an inquisitive arch, a crafty smile twitching at his lips. Did you now? Let’s just see about that. Licking his lips, he spread her cheeks with his thumbs and inspected her winking sphincter. It was absolutely adorable, pink and brown and framed in a downy wreath of dwindling pubes. When he spread her open, she whimpered alluringly, bidding him to partake—a meal he'd been dreaming of for months.
Your wish is my command.
Reverently bowing his head, he placed a soft kiss on her tiny rosette.
“Draco!”
Instead of answering, he swiped his tongue along her crack and swirled over her backdoor.
She shuddered and spread her legs; Draco knew she was staring down at him, watching him, waiting to see what he’d do next. He didn’t look up. She hadn’t told him to eat her arse, so technically, he was disobeying her order. But he wanted to showcase one of his many talents and wow her with his rim job skills. If he got her hooked on the feeling, she might ask him to do it all the time.
Or tell him to do it.
Oh, gods! He started to hump her comforter, his dick pounding on the mattress and demanding relief. He didn’t know why the thought of her forcing his face into her arse turned him on so much, but he knew that he would gladly spend eternity licking every inch of her body.
Circling her crinkled target with the most delicate strokes, he lured her into his web of enticement. She’d stopped making any noise, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Usually it meant she was too overcome to speak, but he’d sprung this on her rather suddenly.
When he pressed his mouth to her hole, his nose bumped her pussy, and he found himself coated in her nectar. Tapping at her bum with the tip of his tongue, Draco inhaled her arousal as he tasted her arse.
Just like her sex, the flavor was musky and dark. Rich like ninety percent dark chocolate—so earthy he didn’t know if he’d ever see straight again. But then the tip of his tongue discovered what must have been a repository of sugar, because he had never tasted anything so sweet in all his life. Burrowing his nose into the cup of cream filling her channel, he attempted to plunge his entire tongue up her bum and lick out whatever candy she was hiding in her rectum.
“UNH!” Hermione grabbed the back of his head and scrabbled for a handhold of hair.
Draco moaned, and that must have set her off, because she started to grind into his face, babbling incoherently as she rode his nose.
Huffing and gasping into her crevice, Draco ignored his sparkling vision to take her over the edge. He’d breathe later. With a hand on either cheek, he pulled her as wide as he could and sealed his lips around her pucker. Sucking deeply, he stiffened his tongue and pierced her with its length. Nose edging up her cunt, he shook his head back and forth in a rapid nononono.
“Ahhhhhhh!” Her lower body trembled in time with her wailing, and the fingers in his hair clenched hard enough to make his eyes water.
Draco took that as confirmation to continue. 
“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”
Definitely a favorite by the sounds of things.
Her walls tightened around his tongue, and her muscles tried to expel him in a seizure of contractions. This was it: she was about to blow.
Draco moaned again, stimulating as much as he could with breath and sound. Her hips went mad, and she jerked against him as she came, adding a fast hard thump to his rattling oral action.
“UUUUUuuuuuuunhhhh!”
The liquid in her pussy grew thicker and then spilled down her crevice. Draco could feel her cunt pulsating against his face like a heartbeat. For several spacey seconds it felt as if he was one with her orgasm, as if it was his as much as hers, as if her minge had linked up with his brain and merged its consciousness with his.
Or maybe he really needed some oxygen.
In a sudden release, she dropped her arms and legs flat against the bed as if someone had stolen all her bones. “FUCK!”
Draco pulled back and inhaled sharply, the cool air of the room filling his lungs in a wave of rapture. He rested his forehead on her thigh and smiled to himself. Apparently his father and Snape hadn’t taken her on any analingus adventures yet; she sounded thoroughly flattened.
He felt her petting his hair, and raised his head to meet her gaze. She was grinning at him, looking devilishly satisfied.
“That was brilliant,” she croaked.
Draco smiled and shimmied up for his job-well-done kiss. Her lips were warm against his, dry from all the panting and shouting. He had just the remedy for such an affliction. Brushing his lips over hers, he spread her secretions across her hungry mouth and pressed his tongue to hers, giving her a taste of her saccharine bum. She certainly wasn’t hesitant about tasting herself, a quality that he found extremely erotic, especially when it came from a witch who appeared too proper for such crudity.
When he leaned back to breathe, she smiled and swiped away the juices he’d smeared on her cheek; but instead of wiping it off on the sheets, she stuffed her thumb in her mouth and sucked it clean. Draco groaned and dove back in, licking the honey from her tongue before she could swallow. She didn’t get to have all the fun. He’d earned that cream. Her damp thumb trailed down his face, marking him with her fluids, and Draco ground his anxious erection into her soft bush. A shaky growl passed from his lips to hers, and he shivered as her damp signature cooled on his cheekbone.
That’s it, mark me, love. Make me yours. He wished she’d apply a bit of pussy war paint to his face every day. He’d be whipping his department into shape like a motherfucking boss with that kind of power seeping into his skin.
Kissing his way down her neck, he left a small love bite near her clavicle. It might be gone by the morning, but he wanted to leave her something to remember him by. Something to prove he was there, that he’d made her scream like a banshee. If Snape got to leave handprints all over her arse, he should be allowed at least five hickeys a visit. Fair’s fair.
Gliding down her to her chest, he kissed each of her nipples hello then rested his cheek against one jublee pillow. He could feel her heart pounding through her breastbone, the pace still at a rapid jog. “It sounds like you enjoyed that,” he murmured into her nipple. “Now where’s my chocolate biscuit?”
She paused in her petting to giggle out a shaky, “What?”
“I was promised chocolate biscuits for good behavior.”
Laughing loudly, she ruffled his hair. “By whom?”
“Mother.”
“When?” she asked, suddenly quiet.
“When I was little. But I was never informed of any time limit. You’re waaaay behind. You owe me about three hundred biscuits.”
Hermione chuckled silently and stroked his head. “Do I? You’re in luck. I’ve been saving a special biscuit for you all day.”
"Really?" He could do with a snack.
“Yes,” she said in mock seriousness as she pushed on the top of his head. “Why don’t you go down and see if it’s ready?”
He smirked into her belly and kissed her navel as he passed. “Ah, my favorite. But I was in the mood for chocolate.”
“Then go get the chocolate sauce out of the fridge. I guess you can have dessert before dinner tonight.”
Draco sniffed around her muff like a hound dog. “I always adored the smell of baking. Is all this for me?”
“All you can eat,” she assured him.
Draco smiled. Should have known she’d be raring for more after that last scream. 
That was fine by him. He would never get enough of her. Ever. He needed to find a way to see her more. Life was too dull without his daily dose of Nanny Granger and her tasty biscuit. After all, a boy had to eat.
Slotting his tongue between her succulent lips, he started on his pre-meal dessert. Granger was the only appetizer that left him hungrier than when he started.
Seconds and thirds would definitely be in order.
Bad Boy" by Miami Sound Machine. Recorded and released in 1985. Written by Larry Dermer, Joe Galdo, and Rafael Vigil. Two videos were made for this song, the second one featuring Gloria Estefan (the lead singer for MSM) with the cast of the musical Cats.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=k1f_VfWBGTE
Refrain--A repeating phrase that is played at the end of each verse in the song. (This will be explained in the next two chapters. Although the idea of "repeating" is also a comment on Draco's mindset and reasons for liking what he likes with Hermione. That'll come into play later.)
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