Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Closer	By : katatonic Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 10356 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters you've grown to know and love. I make no money/profit from writing.

Chapter List
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If someone told Hermione two weeks ago that she would be sitting in her apartment with Draco Malfoy and a werewolf, she would’ve laughed in their face or sent them to St. Mungo’s for psychiatric help.
She looked around her living room. Malfoy was back at the kitchen table reading a book on lycanthropy. Rebecca, in her wolf form, was curled up in front of the fireplace. Hermione was perched on the couch, with her legs tucked underneath her. Every few minutes, she glanced up from her own book and watched Malfoy.
His reading face was adorable, she thought absent-mindedly. His head was cocked to the left and his eyes were squinted ever so slightly. Right as her eyes fell upon his lips, Malfoy looked up. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the other side.
Hermione blushed and covered her face with her book. She supposed it was too much to hope for that he didn’t realize she was staring at him. She reached up to her hairpin and undid her hair- after all, she was no longer in her Professor wardrobe. Hermione could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her as she ran her hands through the curls as they fell loosely around her.
“Granger,” Malfoy’s deep voice cut through the silence. “How long have you been a professor?”
She looked up at him thoughtfully. “Four years. After the war, I went to a wizarding university, and then I accepted a job here.”
She paused. There was a very good chance that she was about to cross a line, but her curiosity got the best of her.
“And what about you, Malfoy? I hadn’t heard much about you after the war.”
She held her breath and prepared for the reappearance of the arrogant git she knew at Hogwarts.
He never came.
Instead, Malfoy answered her. “After my trial, I was sentenced to house arrest for two years. When I was released, I spent my time traveling the world. I wanted to see everything I missed during those two years. It drove my mother barmy. The day after I returned to Britain for her birthday, I received a letter from McGonagall. The potions professor quit with no notice, and she heard I was in town for the time being. I knew it was time to settle down, so I took the job. Three weeks later, it was the first of September.”
They continued to swap post-war stories, carefully avoiding their years at school. As it turned out, Malfoy studied potions in New Orleans for a year. He told Hermione about the city that he grew to love. In return, she told him what it was like to study at her university in France. They discussed the books they read, the subjects they loved, and the friends they cherished.
“How are old Pothead and Weaselbee?” Malfoy asked and his smile reached his eyes.
“I can’t answer you unless you call them Harry and Ron, Ferret,” she retorted with a flip of her hair.
“How about Potter and Weasley? I don’t think they will ever be ‘Harry’ and ‘Ron’ to me.”
“Fine,” Hermione answered with a sigh. “They’re quite well, actually. Harry and Ginny got married right after the war. He’s begging her to have children, but she thoroughly enjoys her life as the young and fabulous Mrs. Potter. Ron and Lavender got married two years ago, and Lavender is expecting their first child in October.” She chuckled as the image of a waddling Lavender and flustered Ron danced through her mind.
“I always thought you and Ron were heading down the aisle with Potter and the other Weasley,” Malfoy prompted. His eyes were cast downward and he was fidgeting with the book in his hands.
“You and every other wizard in Britain,” Hermione replied, laughing. “You know how those things go. It just didn’t work out. We’re still close, though, thank goodness. I couldn’t bear it if I thought we couldn’t still be friends. But enough about me, what are your friends up to these days?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. The only friend I’ve stayed in contact with is Pansy. Last I heard she was dating some Spanish wizard with a penchant for wine. A match made in heaven, I’d say.”
“A girl after my own heart.”
“Ah yes, from what I can tell, you’re quite the lush, Granger.” Malfoy looked at her pointedly.
“It was my birthday! I blame the mystery well-wisher who sent a tumbler of Ogden’s over to me. Everything after that was a bit of a blur, until I fell in a heap in front of you in the hallway.”
“A mystery well-wisher? Well, aren’t you popular?” he teased.
“I would hardly call myself popular. I spend most of my time here, where the only single men are under seventeen.”
Malfoy chuckled as he stood up and made his way over to the couch.
“May I join you?” he asked. “Your kitchen chair is making my arse numb.”
“Don’t blame my chair,” Hermione defended. “Maybe your arse is exceptionally bony.”
“My arse is perfect, Granger.”
Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Sure it is, Malfoy.”
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A hot mouth trails down her neck and lands in the hollow of her throat. His hands glide up her ribcage to settle on her naked breasts. His thumbs massage her nipples into stiff points. His tongue slides up to her earlobe, where he traces the shell of her ear.
“Is this what you want?” a voice asks her, lust dripping like honey from his mouth.
She arches into his touch and runs her fingers through his soft hair.
“Yes.”
Suddenly, his mouth is on hers and his tongue is in her mouth. He’s gentle, but insistent. He lightly traces the roof of her mouth, and then bites gently on her bottom lip. He’s growing in confidence and his moves become more demanding, more consuming.
She slithers her hands down his torso, tracing each abdominal muscle with her fingernails. His skin breaks out in goose bumps and he growls into her mouth.
He’s on the move again and she moans when his tongue flicks one of her nipples. His lips close around it and he bites down ever-so-gently.
Never one to be one-upped, she traces the outline of his erection through his pants. She relishes in the groan that vibrates against her breast.
Now his fingertips are dancing down her stomach and over her knickers. His thumbnail brushes against her clitoris and she gasps. She can feel his smile against her sternum, her throat, her neck. He murmurs something and her knickers vanish.
He lightly traces over her wet folds and his thumb touches her again.
“Is this what you want?” he asks again.
She takes his earlobe into her mouth and drags her teeth across it.
“Yes,” she whispers, directly in his ear.
He slides a finger into her, with a slight curl to drag against the spot inside her that makes her quiver.
He adds another, while his thumb gently circles her bundle of nerves. She throws her head back and her hair tickles at her spine. He takes advantage and sinks his teeth into her neck.
She moans louder and his mouth is on hers again. Their kiss is heavy and full of need.
She’s rising and rising, flying closer to the sun. She knows it’s going to burn her at any moment, but he is too good- too devilishly good. He tastes like sin and she can’t get enough. She’s growing hotter and his fingers are dancing in perfect time with her body. Just before she explodes, she opens her eyes. Smoldering grey eyes are looking deep into her own and she’s coming, shattering into a million pieces under his gaze.
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Hermione awoke with a start, her body draped precariously across the couch. She rubbed her eyes and focused on the face peering down at her.
“Professor! It’s morning. We did it!” Rebecca whispered excitedly.
“Good,” Hermione answered groggily. She attempted to sit up, but there was a weight across her upper body. Her eyes flickered down to reveal Malfoy, asleep, with one arm clutching at her waist
“I’m going back to my dorm now,” Rebecca captured Hermione’s attention again. “Thank you, Professor Granger. Will you tell Professor Malfoy I said thanks, too? And tell him he’s a good ear scratcher!” she said with a giggle and headed out the door.
Hermione looked at the clock- it was only six in the morning. Her gaze fell on Malfoy, who was sleeping on his side, facing her. She decided to let him sleep a bit longer and went into her bathroom to take a shower.
When she emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for classes, Malfoy was still asleep.
She walked over to him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
“Malfoy,” she nudged. “Malfoy, it's morning and you’re asleep on my couch. I’d really like to go to breakfast now. Get your bum out of bed.”
His eyes snapped open and focused on her. Hermione felt a weird lurch in her heart… and in her pelvis. His eyes were the same as always, grey and penetrating, but something had changed. She just couldn’t place a finger on it.
“I’m not in bed, Granger,” he harrumphed as he gathered his wits.
“If you hurry and get dressed, we can find out what Luna and Hagrid learned in the forest last night before classes start.”
Hermione gave him a look. She knew he was just as eager as she was to discover the catalyst of this little mystery.
“Yes, yes. I’m going,” he mumbled.
Five minutes later, they were on their way to the Great Hall.
As they passed by the Slytherin table, Malfoy shot a glance to his usual seat.
“Why don’t you sit with the other professors?” Hermione asked him.
“I find that sitting with others invites conversation. I’m not particularly chatty before nine,” he responded, raising his eyebrows pointedly.
“Don’t you teach first period?”
“Yes, and I’m sure my students would agree with my assessment.”
They reached the professors’ table and Hermione took her usual seat next to Luna, while Draco sat on the other side of Neville. After a quick hello, Luna began to recount her night.
“There are indeed wolves in the forest, but they are just that- wolves. Hagrid and I met up with some of the friendlier centaurs and they told us there haven’t been weres in the forest since the Great Battle. While this is good for our riskier students who find joy in wandering the forest, it’s not great news for us. Someone bit Rebecca, and it wasn’t a resident of the forest.”
Luna sighed and bit into a piece of toast. Neville rubbed her back soothingly. Draco scratched at the beginnings of beard, evidence of a morning without shaving.
“So we know nothing,” Hermione clarified.
“Not quite,” Luna responded. “The centaurs confirmed that the pack that used to live in the forest was a result of two werewolves mating while they were transformed. We don’t know who the parents were, only that they left their cubs in the forest to grow up as normal wolves.”
“They left their children?” Hermione asked, aghast.
“Hermione, they weren’t really children,” Neville comforted her. “They would always be wolves first. The only difference between them and other wolves is their near-human intelligence. But even that isn’t enough to classify them as humans. The fact that we call them ‘weres’ simply refers to their parents’ werewolf status.”
Hermione twisted her hairpin absently and took a long sip of tea.
“The centaurs did say that there was a runt that went missing,” Luna broke the silence. “They assume that it died, like most runts do, but it is something, I suppose.”
With that, quiet fell upon the group as they tucked in.
----------
For her fourth period class, Hermione taught the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. The class went by uneventfully; students were practicing turning a hand towel into a doily. She dismissed her students a few minutes early and began to tidy her desk.
“Professor.” Rebecca walked up to the front of the room where Hermione sat. “Did you sleep alright last night?”
Hermione looked up, her eyebrows drawn together
“I think so. Why do you ask, Miss Stanley?”
“When I’m in wolf form, apparently my hearing becomes more lupine. You sounded like you were in pain,” Rebecca answered. “Maybe it was just a nightmare that you don’t remember.”
“Probably,” Hermione answered. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
They walked together to lunch, chatting about Rebecca’s classes and Hermione’s new duties as “wolf wrangler.”
Just when the duo reached the doors of the Great Hall, Hermione stumbled. A hand from behind her settled on her lower back to steady her.
“Easy there, Professor Granger,” a voice spoke into her right ear.
Hermione turned and looked into grey eyes. She gasped when she recognized those eyes and her previous night’s dream flooded back into her memory.
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