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What Happens in Bulgaria...	By : jadedust Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-What Happens in Bulgaria...
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When he woke the next morning, Draco had no intention of meeting Granger at the zoo. He was sure he could think of a hundred other things to do instead and did not get hung up on the fact that he’d somehow never been able to think of those things before. He’d just never really tried.

So he did, and came up with: wanking, reading, sleeping, and drinking. Drinking made most other activities fun or at least more tolerable, but doing so alone made one pathetic, he reasoned. Sleeping was out, as he’d been doing quite enough of it already (it had barely been dark when he’d gone to bed the night before), not to mention his dreams were becoming disturbing lately. Reading was too much like doing schoolwork, and he was supposed to be on holiday. Wanking was a way of life, but there was only so much tossing off a bloke could do (he knew this for a fact; there’d been contests in the Slytherin boys’ dorm).

The zoo it was.

The zoo and a T-shirt-and-khaki-clad Granger. He felt both relieved and disappointed that the top was not in the least bit sheer.

And thus began a week of daily excursions with Granger, each day ending with a meal at Draco’s favorite spot, where he’d proceed to get just drunk enough that he didn’t care that he might have had a decent time, that he might not have found the Gryffindor to be completely intolerable.

Near the end of the week, after a trip to the National Library (which she’d been practically orgasmic over but had to essentially bribe Draco with promises of what she called “racy” ancient texts that turned out to be some of the most obscene pornography he’d ever seen), they were sitting at their usual table in a corner near the front, when the waiter brought out a small chocolate cake decorated with candles and set it in front of Draco.

“Happy Birthday,” he said in a thick accent, smiling and bowing away.

Halfway through his second glass of wine, Draco blinked stupidly. “How…?”

Granger grinned triumphantly. “I came back last night and made it myself. They were very gracious to allow me use of their kitchen; they helped, too, although it’s just a simple cake. I used to make them for my mum’s birthday.”

Blink. Blink. “But how did you know…”

Her brows drew together in confusion, then quirked with, what? Amusement? Exasperation? He was still learning her facial expressions. He knew Rage, I’m About to Lecture, and I Know Something You Don’t.

“You don’t remember telling me last night about your belated birthday celebration?”

Draco searched his wine-soaked memory. He could recall her lecturing him about how there were people in the world suffering much worse than a delayed party. Right, he had gone off on a bit of a drunken rant the night before, railing against his parents and their neglect. But didn’t girls like that sort of “sharing?”

“I remember. I remember you calling me a selfish, self-pitying, spoiled git,” he grumbled. “So I don’t know why you’d bake me a bloody cake.” Although said cake smelled delicious; he wondered if it was chocolate on the inside, too. He fucking loved chocolate as much as a girl on the rag did. Had he told her that, as well?

“I didn’t call you any of those things.” Her voice was soft and broke on the word “any.” She looked hurt, her lips all trembly and eyes shiny. The only point of reference Draco had for this reaction was the time he’d called her “Mudblood” second year.

Then, all at once, the trembling stopped, her eyes narrowed, and Draco swallowed, shoring up his reserves of snark in preparation for her Rage Face and all that came with it.

Instead, she just sat there, silently studying him. He resisted the urge to fidget, returning her gaze steadily, if blearily, over the lit birthday candles, until he saw it. The look of I Know Something You Don’t.

“Perhaps that’s what you think of yourself,” she said evenly.

“Sorry? I have no idea what you’re on about, Granger.” He wanted to drink his wine but felt doing so would be ceding some kind of victory.

“Well, why are you so sensitive about your wealth, loneliness, and boredom? Why not brag as usual instead of inventing characterizations I didn’t make?”

He scowled. “You’re full of crap. You’re trying to…I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you’re wrong.” He gripped his knife; he was going to stab the cake to death.

“Draco,” she pleaded, voice softening again, “I’m only trying to figure out what’s going on here. I mean, I baked you a cake and you’re mad at me? This is more infuriating than dealing with Harry and Ron fighting last year—”

“I don’t give a shit about Weasley and Potter’s lover’s quarrels!” he hissed. She’d been pretty good about not bringing up Potter and the Weasel that week, each day mentioning them less and less. This was the first time that day.

She sighed heavily and clasped her hands on the table. “I thought…I think that maybe you’re still learning who you are. You’re making who you are; we all are. Consider what you said when I asked you about the Quidditch World Cup, how you didn’t know why you helped. Maybe there’s still a chance for you, and being away from your usual surroundings, including your parents, for all intents and purposes, might enable you to figure things out, figure yourself out.”

“You sound like a cross between Dumbledore and Trelawney,” he drawled, shifting in his seat uncomfortably and reaching for his wine glass. “And what do you mean ‘there’s still a chance’ for me? What, trying to redeem my dark ways, Granger?”

“You haven’t done anything in need of redemption. Not yet, really. You’ve just been an obnoxious prat. Which is to say you’ve been a teenage boy. Now are you going to make a wish and blow out these candles, or am I going to have to eat this cake all by myself?” She picked up her fork and looked at him expectantly.

Startled by her abrupt change in tone, it took Draco a moment to apprehend the thought that had been skirting the edges of his hardly sober, highly moody mind.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’ll make my wish. But first, why don’t you tell me what chance you’re hoping there is for you being here, away from Hogwarts?” He eyed her shrewdly as she looked away briefly before lifting her chin and meeting his gaze with a challenge.

“You’ll just have to use your wish on it if you want me to come out and tell you.” Her smile was sly enough for a Slytherin.

Draco shook his head and grinned, leaning over the cake. It gave him a good view of her cleavage, which he’d been eying when the chance presented itself. She was wearing a top with a modest V-neck, and when she bent over or he was close enough and at the right angle, he had a decent view. Fueled by the dirty images at the library (and bored as she continued to claim it would be “just another half hour” before they left), he’d amused and aroused himself by fantasizing what he might do with those breasts. Run a finger over the tops still encased in whatever bra she was wearing, feeling the soft, silky flesh. Fill his hands and squeeze. Bite and suck at her nipples. Smoosh them together, take his cock, and—

--and that’s when he’d gotten an erection. In a national library.

Draco knew what he was going to wish for.

XXXXXXXXXX

Breathing in the warm night air, pleasantly full of wine and cake (chocolate through and through, as he had hoped), Draco rubbed his belly as he leaned against the wall of the building facing the restaurant, waiting for Granger to return from the loo. The street was softly lit, the sky cloudless and sparkly with stars. He craned his neck and found the moon, a glowing sliver. A breeze ruffled his hair and carried the sounds of rustling leaves and faint laughter. Closing his eyes, he hummed in contentment. Maybe this city wasn’t so bad.

He heard footsteps approaching and opened his eyes to slits, anticipating Granger.

He just hadn’t anticipated she’d be standing so close.

“You look happy,” she smiled up at him, her chocolate-tinged breath ghosting along his cheek as she spoke. If he glanced down, he’d be able to see more of her tits than he ever had before. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers, black and shining in the pale light.

“I feel pretty good,” he acknowledged. “You’re not too terrible to be around, outside a classroom and away from Potter and Weasley,” he rambled. Another breeze, and he could smell her shampoo, something sweet but delicate. Her breasts brushed against his chest with each breath she took. “Thank you,” he added sincerely, surprising even himself. “For the cake, I mean.”

She beamed, self-satisfied. “You’re welcome, Draco. So,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, grazing Draco’s arm with hers, “what would you like to do tomorrow?”

“What would I like?” She’d never asked before, always the one with a destination, a plan in mind.

“Yes, what would you like?” He must have been imagining that flirtatious lilt in her voice. Not to mention the coquettish angle of her head and crooked grin.

Oh he knew what he would like, and how he would like it. His birthday wish had been quite graphic, actually.

“Er,” he tried to muddle through his disjointed, pornographic thoughts to come up with something. “I don’t know. I guess…” he trailed off, distracted by her wet lips, which she was gently biting—and then suddenly using to kiss him, surging up to wrap her arms around his neck, her breasts crushed against him, body fitting his like it had been mapped out for the purpose. Her lips were soft but firm, and he felt his back hit the wall as he stumbled from both surprise and the force of her enthusiasm. (And maybe from all the wine.)

Startled out of his state of shock—he was being kissed; Hermione Granger was kissing him!—he wrapped one arm around her, gripping her waist tight, and brought his other hand up to the base of her neck. He kissed back, moving his mouth against hers, surprised again when she licked at his lips teasingly then stroked his tongue with hers when he gasped. She tasted like chocolate, and he took over the kiss, exploring every last soft, wet millimeter, for more.

Her thigh was pressed against his crotch, and he decided, given Granger’s who-knew-how-momentary lapse of sanity, to go for it, lowering the hand at her waist to squeeze and lift her bum, enabling him to rub his growing erection against her. She squeaked and tightened her arms about his neck, breaking the kiss to pant and open her dazed eyes, lashes fluttering at his cheek.

“D-draco, we shouldn’t stay in the street,” she whispered breathlessly into his ear.

No, if he was going to shag her senseless, he supposed this wasn’t the place, although he’d honestly had no qualms about it. He certainly couldn’t take her back to his room.

“Where are you staying?” He’d never even wondered before.

A strange look crossed her face, something akin to worry or shame. Draco didn’t have time to decipher it before she was grabbing his hand and pulling him down the street, around the corner, and into a smaller, darker lane.

“This will do,” she said, closing in. Draco smirked and made sure to reverse their earlier positions, pressing her up against the wall, one leg between both of hers, hands at her hips. He could barely see her face, but they found each other’s lips, picking up where they left off with hot, demanding kisses. Hermione clutched at the front of his crisp, white shirt and did something with her hips that made Draco moan against her mouth. Her hands slid down between their bodies to un-tuck his shirt and creep underneath to feel warm skin, and his stomach muscles jumped at her touch. Her hands were so soft, her fingers tracing lines of fire over his abdomen.

Not wanting her to have all the fun, Draco moved one hand from her hip, up her side, to her breast, molding his hand over it and squeezing gently but possessively. She made that little squeak again, tongue momentarily pausing in its mutual tangling with his, one hand withdrawing from under his shirt and covering his own. Instead of smacking it away as Pansy had done on so many occasions, she adjusted his grip so that his thumb grazed her nipple and guided his hand’s movements to her satisfaction, if the undulation of her hips was anything to judge by.

Ending the long, messy kiss with a wet smack, Draco trailed his lips across her jaw to her ear. “You like that, huh, Granger?” He nibbled on her earlobe and she whimpered, the sound going straight to his cock like everything else. “Would you like my mouth there?” he enticed, voice thick with promise. He pinched her nipple for clarity.

She gasped, her other hand going round and up to claw at his shoulder. “Um,” she began hesitantly, “I’d like you to keep talking to me…like that,” she finished, burying her head against his chest.

Draco chuckled. This had to be the best day of his life. Chocolate cake and know-it-all Granger asking him to talk dirty to her.

“You like hearing my voice say dirty things to you?” he spoke lowly into her ear. He felt her nod, even though the question had been rhetorical. “Does it make you wet? How wet are you, Granger? Can you tell me?”

He waited for a response but got none except the quickening of her pulse beneath his lips. He drew back to look at her, but it was too dark to see much of her expression. Tilting her chin up, he placed a few tiny kisses upon her lips, like little sips. “It’s only fair,” he said, practically breathing the words into her mouth. “After all, you can feel how hard I am.” For emphasis, he rubbed his erection against her hip. She made a small sound and bit her lip. “Maybe you’d like me to feel how wet you are and tell you,” he suggested, letting go of her chin and fingering the button of her jeans.

“Yes,” she breathed, and it lit his nerves like hot lightning. He twisted the button through the hole, then managed not to yank the zip, easing it down with shaking hands. She’d buried her face in his shirt again, blocking his view, but he wasn’t at all frustrated to have to feel his way completely, sliding his hand first over what felt like cotton knickers, all the way down until his fingers cupped her heat, burning and slick even through the material. His cock twitched at the find, and he seriously worried he was going to embarrass himself before long.

“Fuck, Granger, you’re so wet I can feel it through your knickers.” His chest muffled the short, high-pitched noise she made in response, and the hand grasping his sweatily on her breast lifted to clutch at his other shoulder. Having been distracted, he supposed, by his handful of slick, panty-clad girl bits, he circled his thumb around her peaked nipple, and she jerked as if she were trying to get away and closer at the same time.

Impatient to continue his exploration, Draco slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, fascinated by the feel of slippery curls and flesh. He felt along the seam of her and gently probed further, the lips of her sex giving way to more wet heat. He began sliding a finger up inside, slowly, awed at just how tight and soft she was.

“Please,” she whimpered into his chest. “Touch my…clitoris. Please?”

His prick full-on jumped at her pleading, and he took his hand off her breast, tangling it in her hair and tugging so he could mash his lips against hers. “Since you begged so nicely,” he rasped, out of breath from the intense kiss.

And then he realized: he had no idea where her clitoris was.

Panicking, he nipped at her lower lip with his teeth to buy himself some time before an idea occurred to him.

“Why don’t you show me how you like it?” he drawled in what he hoped was a sexy, confident tone.

One of her hands flew from his shoulder to join his beneath her panties. She drew his hand up her slit until he felt a small nub of flesh that made her gasp and throw her head back as he brushed his fingers alongside it. She guided him further, and before long he had her practically humping his hand as he rubbed in tight circles.

“Merlin, I didn’t know you could be so uninhibited, Granger,” he panted, doing some rubbing of his own against her hip. “It’s fucking maddening.” Her hand on his had gone slack, and, bringing his thumb to her clit, he slid his other fingers down, once again slipping one up inside her channel, a second soon joining the first. He thrust them shallowly and leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall, lips at her sweaty forehead.

“More,” he heard her plead, her hand pressing insistently against his. He wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, so he took the opportunity to both rub her clit more furiously and thrust his fingers deeper and faster inside her. She cried out and clutched at him, and he brought his free hand down to wrap around her, squeezing at her arse as her hips moved, causing a delicious friction against which Draco knew he would not last long.

“D-draco, Draco,” she chanted before her voice broke off on a series of increasingly high-pitched, wordless cries that he had to silence with his mouth as, he was pretty sure, she came, the walls of her pussy clamping down on and convulsing around his fingers. He gripped her tight and thrust against her one last time before coming himself, messily but spectacularly in his trousers.

“Mmm…” He slumped against the wall, limp and grinning, still holding onto Hermione, who did much the same. She removed her hand from his and lifted it weakly to encircle his waist, tipping her head forward to rest on his chest. He slid his fingers out and lightly cupped her, unsure what the protocol was after fingering a girl to orgasm. He figured he’d wait, for now, until she gave him some cue. Granger was very practical and helpful, after all.

“I feel so good,” he murmured against her hair. Between the wine and the afterglow, he was ready to fall asleep right there, standing in a dark lane with his hand down her pants.

She giggled. “Me too. Although, we should probably go home and get some sleep.”

“Yes. I agree. In just a moment we’ll…do that.” She was so warm and fit perfectly in his arms. He absently stroked along her sex, and she hissed.

“I’m a little sensitive,” she warned.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized hurriedly, halting his movements. He gently extricated his hand from her knickers, secretly thrilling at the shiny, slick digits. While Hermione busied herself doing up her jeans, he brought his hand to his face and sniffed. It smelled…musky. He licked at a finger tentatively, and when that wasn’t enough, slid it inside his mouth to the first knuckle, swirling his tongue around.

“What are you—that’s…” Draco couldn’t see it, but he bet she was blushing furiously.

“You know, it’s really not that bad. Just sort of strong and tangy. I don’t know what some blokes are complaining about.” He dipped his head as if to kiss her, and she tried to dodge him. “Unless maybe you taste especially good. Wanna taste yourself, Granger?” He grinned wolfishly as she shoved him back.

Chuckling, he wiped the rest off on his shirt and reached back for his wand to perform a quick cleaning spell. Thank Merlin underage witches and wizards weren’t subject to the same restrictions here as in Britain. He didn’t fancy walking back to the hotel with his trousers full of come.

“So…” he began with no idea how to finish his sentence.

“So,” she echoed, “I’ll owl you tomorrow?”

“Excellent.” Visions of an all-day shag-athon filled his mind. He sidled up to her, and she held on to his forearms for a brief but intense snog.

“Got you to taste yourself anyway,” he smirked.

“Prat. I guess we’ll call that another birthday gift.”

“I have the feeling you’ll be giving me more.”

XXXXXXXXXX

FINALLY some sexytimes, amIrite? (says Draco) ;)
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What Happens in Bulgaria...