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Her Secret Addiction	By : K_B_Lynne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 52085 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of its characters or locations, and I do not make any money from this story or any other. Harry Potter is the sole property of J K Rowling.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in post, I've been away from home a lot the last couple of days and wasn't able to finish the chapter until around 3am last night. But, as promised, here's chapter 5!

Chapter Includes: Masterbation, Spanking

Oh, and I'd like to make a few comments to those of you who have been lovely enough to come back each day for a new chapter, and leave me those wonderful reviews we love so much!

@Victoria: As of right now, we don't have any plans to have Hermione with another man, but that could change, who knows.
@Aranel: Haha, you're absolutely right, we do need to get these two off dorm, and don't you worry, we plan to! And while we like to have a good dose of smut in each chapter, I don't know if I'd say it's a PWP, we've got a LOT of plot in store for these two!
@Eclectic_Pet: Thanks for always coming back for more! We love reading your comments!
And now on to the awaited Chapter 5!!!

Chapter 5
Draco Malfoy was an arrogant prat. If he honestly thought she “couldn’t get enough”, she’d prove him wrong! Of course, that was days ago, and her resistance was growing futile. He’d hardly looked at her in the last two days, and when he did, it wasn’t the right look. She didn’t know which one was more frustrating.
Of course, Hermione would be damned if she gave in to his prediction. She’d show him who couldn’t get enough. So, she made to ignore him. She set stronger wards in her room, ones that only she could counter. She also picked up a habit of spending more time off dorm, away from him.
It didn’t matter much. It wasn’t the same. His fingers were better than hers. As was the rest of him. Hermione returned from the library, which Madam Pince had just kicked her out of because of the late hour. She was relieved when she entered an empty common room, and headed to the kitchenette for a drink.
That was when she heard it, a girl’s voice. A girl’s giggle. She nearly dropped her glass.   Malfoy had a girl in his room! A girl that wasn’t her!
Hermione tried to just tune them out. It didn't matter, she scolded herself. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't seen and heard him with girls since they'd started living together.
But, Merlin, did it piss her off.
Pouring herself an ice cold glass of water, Hermione marched up to her room, fully intent on finishing her homework for the week. But, a thud against the wall, a giggle, and something that very distinctly sounded like a moan were distracting her. He was probably knuckles deep in the tart already, that son of a bitch.
No. She had no reason to be mad. She had no reason to sit here, imagining what he might be doing with his faceless bimbo. She was probably a twig. Probably Pansy, that pug-nosed skank. Probably some tart too stupid to even learn a contraceptive charm. And if he knocked her up, he'd deserve the pain in the arse!
He was probably making her moan like that with his tongue. She knew the feeling too well, the way it could make you squirm and writhe and moan out of control, completely at his mercy. She remembered doing it just a few days ago. Stupid bloody tart.
Merlin, was it hot in her room.
Hermione decided to try getting ready for bed, wishing she’d invested in a wireless radio the last time she’d gotten the chance. Oh, how nice it would be to be able to drown out that /noise/. She changed out of her uniform into a simple nighty, but with that done, she knew she’d have to go into the bathroom to finish her routine, putting her just on the opposite side of the wall where Malfoy was having a ball with whichever slag he’d tricked into coming upstairs with him. If she turned out to be a prefect, Hermione decided she’d give her double patrols, just as punishment…
She wasn’t going to let that affect her, though. She’d have to block it out, go about her bedtime routine as quickly as possible, then shut herself into her room again. Quick, that was the key, like ripping off a bandaid.

    “Oh, Merlin, Draco. You’re terrible!” a girly laugh rang through the walls, high and flirty, lacking an ounce of genuinity, immediately followed by a loud squeak of surprise and a low moan.
Hermione tried to be quick about it, slipping quietly into the bathroom, where the sounds echoed more profusely. She set about brushing her teeth, trying to stave off the mental images of some slag sitting on Draco's face while he had a ball.
Stupid bint. She couldn't help thinking it, over and over again as she vigorously brushed her teeth, listening to the haughty moans coming from inside the Head Boy's room. What did this slag have that she didn't, huh?
Merlin, she shouldn't be thinking such things. She shouldn't be imagining herself riding Draco's face, his tongue feasting on her like she was some kind of delicacy. She shouldn't be listening to this!
The privacy of her bedroom didn’t help as much as she hoped it would. Now that she was ready for bed, homework done, she realized she had absolutely nothing to distract her from what she could only speculate was happening in the other room.
It was pure torture.
She couldn’t get it out of her mind. She could feel it, his tongue inside of her. It’d only been the one time, but it’d been memorable. His fingers, long and thick, skilled.

    She laid back on her bed with a miserable groan, and before she knew it, her hand was in her knickers again. She sighed at the twitch of pleasure she received from hitting just the right spot on her clit. This was much better than her trip to the library.
Hermione groaned softly, her fingers finding a pace amidst the moans echoing from the next room. Slow, steady, a build up to the temptation, her fingers circled her clit, mimicking the way his tongue did in her memory. Her other hand moved to her breast through her nightgown, rubbing the nipple to hardness, massaging the mound.
She couldn't hear the creak of the bed, they hadn't gotten down to the dirty deed yet. Her breathing was becoming heavier, eyes closing as she let the images flood her mind. There was something exquisite about having Draco's head between her thighs, twisting her fingers in his hair...
She should stop. She knew she should. But damn, she just couldn't. Or maybe she didn't want to. She didn't know right now, but her fingers were moving faster over that nub, harder. Hers didn't have the fine callouses of playing Quidditch, she lamented silently. They felt dry and thin, soft, like paper; It just wasn't the same.
All the same, it felt good, and her imagination ran with it, if only due to a desperate desire to find some sort of release, the kind only Malfoy seemed capable of giving her. No. The hell with that idea. She didn’t need Malfoy to get her off. She could do it just fine on her own! He just happened to be skilled at it as well…
“Mmm,” Hermione moaned as her body responded to her actions, growing wet under her own ministrations. She slid her fingers lower, touching her own juices, spreading them. Merlin did that feel amazing. She stroked her fingers against her opening, spreading the sticky juice and pretending that her fingers were his tongue, the wetness his saliva.
Her fingers swirled at her entrance, and pressed slowly into the muscles, wiggling slightly as she stroked her finger deeper inside of herself.
She shifted her hips and spread her legs wider, allowing for a better angle. Just like when his head was there, she recalled with a soft groan, biting down on her lip. Her fingers crooked upwards, finding the soft muscles there and stroking against them with a delighted shiver.
Suddenly the sounds in the next room grew louder, a steady stream of moaning from that feminine voice she didn’t care to place. Hermione groaned with disapproval, but her fingers worked harder than ever. Okay, so maybe he was shagging someone else. Who cared? Certainly not Hermione. She could have anyone she wanted, she just wasn’t that kind of girl. She couldn’t be that girl. Not while holding a position of authority, and certainly not if she wanted to be successful in life. Who would ever take her seriously.

    “Oh, God!” she moaned softly but enthusiastically to herself, and turned onto her stomach, using the bed underneath her for added pressure, friction. She ground herself into her hand. She wasn’t worried about making the bed shake, no one would hear it over the sounds Malfoy was making with his own.
She could easily place those sounds, though. He was already shagging the girl, she didn't doubt it in the slightest, thrusting her fingers as she ground into her palm. Draco wasn't making nearly as much noise as the rest of the activity, and he'd certainly seemed vocal with her. That thought was surprisingly pleasing.
But she wasn't one of his throw away shags. He had been her throw away. They'd simply fucked it out, all the hatred they'd shared over the years. Nothing more.
Her other hand snaked down as well, pressing two fingers into her clit and rubbing furiously. She just needed to get off. Get off once, and it would put her to sleep. Then she could forget all about Malfoy and his whores.
Hermione’s whimpered to drown out the sound of the whore’s moans, the only sound currently coming from the other room. Her imagination ran wild. All three of their adventures playing over in her head. In her bed where she laid now, when he ate her and fingered her to climax. The desk where he bent her over and flipped up her skirt, taking her like a dirty schoolgirl, which she supposed was exactly what she was in that moment. And the shower, where he’d pulled her in and she’d learned how to pleasure a man.
The most erotic part, Hermione decided as she replayed the memories, was his voice. The husky, lusty voice with which he'd whispered naughty things into her ear. She couldn't hear him now, which was disappointing, but she was so close, letting her imagination run wild.
Close, so close. She was building up, almost at the edge as she ground her fingers into her clit furiously, her fingers thrusting in time to the creaking of Draco's bed. She turned her head and bit down into her pillow, muffling the pleasured cry that left her as she finally climaxed, body trembling and going rigid all at once.
After a minute or two of riding the high, Hermione fell limp onto the sheets, panting harshly.
Damn him. Damn Draco Malfoy right to hell, that sexy bastard.
Draco grunted his release, spilling himself over the stomach of the eager girl splayed across the bed underneath him. She moaned softly as her body relaxed from the last twenty minutes of pleasure, and when he was finished she brought her hand down to touch the warm fluid.
“Wow,” she told him, grinning up at his smirk. “I guess the rumors really are true.” Draco knew exactly what she meant, the rumors that he was a fantastic lay. It came as no surprise.
“Well, sometimes you can believe what you hear.” Draco rolled onto his back beside her, taking a moment to catch his breath, before sitting up. She turned onto her side to face him, but before she could say anything, Draco spoke. “Granger will give you detention if she catches you here past curfew, you should probably go.”
Her smile faded for just a moment.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed. She moved off the bed and began gathering her things. Draco could tell she was trying hard not to look bothered, but in all honesty, he couldn’t care less, and she would be a fool to think otherwise. She pulled on her clothes quickly, making sure to wiggle her hips in an alluring manner as she pulled her skirt up. She left her lacy thong on the floor, he noticed. Cute, she wanted a reason to see him again. It wouldn’t work. He got off the bed and pulled on a fresh pair of boxer-briefs.
Draco escorted the hopeless slag to the dorm exit and wished her a good night. She went in for a goodnight kissed, and he humored him if only not to be an ass. The door closed behind her and Merlin was he glad to be rid of her.
He headed into the kitchenette for a post-coitus snack.
Tactfully, Hermione waited until her cheeks were no longer flushed and her pulse was normal before getting out of bed. She scourgified her hand, pulled her hair into a bun, and straightened her nightie before heading for the door. It was an old Quidditch Jersey from Harry, which he'd given her ages ago when he'd outgrown it. It was spectacularly comfy, and in all Gryffindor colors, it even read 'Potter' across the back.
That'd tick him off.
Sighing, she headed down the stairs, making no effort to make any more or less noise than usual. She was just glad for the quiet. But, she'd also heard him in the kitchen.
Playing surprised, she paused when she saw him there, but only lingered a moment before joining him in the kitchenette. She set about pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice, pointedly not looking Draco in the eye.
"So, your one-off still upstairs?" She asked as casually as she could manage. "Or can I actually get some sleep now?"
“By now she should be halfway back to her dorm.” Draco turned to Hermione with a smirk, but when he saw her attire, his eyebrows rose. “You shagging Potter now too?” he asked casually, looking her up and down. He then went back to his toast. Was that what happened when she didn’t have him for three days? She went to her best friend for it instead. “Does he do the trick?”
Hermione rose a brow, though her back was to him so he couldn't see that. It wasn't like she had any kind of relationship with Draco, so it was really of no concern to him whether or not she was. But she wasn't.
"Jealous?" She posed casually, sipping her juice. It wasn't answering his question, but implying that he'd guessed correctly without saying he had.
Draco chuckled. No way she she was shagging Potter. He’d been back with his little ginger slag since the start of term. But the fact that she wanted him to believe it was entertaining to say the least.
“No, happy for you,” he lied, spreading jam on his toast. “You know, if you’ve found someone who gets you off that you can actually stand. Good for you.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Probably could, as Ginny tells it." She chuckled, draining her glass and pouring another. "Though they did invite me to join them. Was considering taking them up on the offer."
That was a flat out lie. But the idea did have some appeal. She turned, leaning against the counter. "Think you could possibly bother with silencing wards if you're going to keep dragging slags up here?" She huffed irritably. "Some of us value our sleep."
Draco rolled his eyes. As he suspected, she hadn’t slept with him. “Oh, where would the fun in that be? If I use a silencing ward, what would you get off to?” Okay, so maybe it was a shot in the dark, but there was a reason he rammed that girl so hard. He wanted Hermione to hear it.
"Please." Hermione sniffed, turning her nose up at the very idea. "Who could get off to a shrill voice like that? Disgusting. Surprised you could get through. Felt like my damn ears were bleeding."
Draco couldn’t help but laugh at that one. “Trust me, I’ve learned to block them out. Not all of them are as exciting to me as the thrilling sound of my foe screaming me praises.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he cut his toast in half diagonally. He turned his back to the counter and leaned against it, taking a triangular slice and biting into it.
Hermione blushed fiercely at that, and was too slow to think of a comeback. She sipped her juice instead, buying herself a moment.
"Yes, well," She muttered, clearing her throat. "Can't imagine you enjoyed yourself much. I recall you being rather... vocal." It was a curious observation she'd made, but he'd made not a peep, which had left her rather disappointed.
Not that she would admit that. But Draco's dirty talk was just... Sexy. And hearing some of it might have made her orgasm a little more satisfying. Instead, it was like a bandaid, and would quickly require another.
Draco chuckled at that. “You’ve got me. I guess it’s because a naughty girl like you needs to be told just how bad she is. My usual slags already know.” Hermione was a goody-good. The fact that she was willing to beg him to fuck her not once, not twice, but three times, just went to show that she wasn’t the girl everyone thought she was. She was a needy, horny little Gryffindor, who needed a good dicking to get through the day. This made him very, very happy.
Her heart rate picked up, recalling just how he'd expressed such an opinion of her. Hermione could practically feel the sting of his hand on her pert arse, the heat of his breath on her ear... She tried to contain the shudder.
"Yes, well," She said again, clearing her throat. "Do put up those wards next time, Malfoy, will you? It was quite bothersome."
That was the topic at hand. That was what was important. He'd tried to provoke her, he must have, but she was done. She'd had enough. She'd relapse into him like some kind of drug if she let him get to her.
Draco enjoyed another large bite of his toast and jam. “Well, hopefully the next one will be a little more trash-talk provoking. I was damn near bored in there,” he said casually, and pushed off the counter. “There’s something about such an easy slag that’s just a turn off.” He took a chance to look her over once more. Merlin she was sexy in nothing but that old beat up jersey. Oh, what he’d give to have her walking around in one of his old jerseys. He’d love to see the look on her boyfriends’ faces when they saw that.
Hermione hummed a response, eyes closed, and sipping her juice. She just needed to collect her thoughts. That was all. "Perhaps you should stop sticking your prick in every hole you see?" She suggested blandly, edged with some of the annoyance she felt building up. "Merlin knows you're the school slag, after all."
Draco chuckled at that. “I might be the school slag, but who was it running to this slag when she needed a good orgasm or four?” Four orgasms he’d given her in the last week, and not one other man had ever accomplished a single from this bookworm closet whore. He smirked at her and popped the rest of one triangle into his mouth, chewing it largely.
Hermione's cheeks burned at that, and sipped her juice to cool her blush. How was she supposed to reply to that? But, Merlin those had been four fantastic orgasms.
"What can I say, Draco?" She sighed, blowing a curl from her eyes. "You're mildly entertaining, especially since you keep chasing after me." He'd come on to her the last two times, even if she had instigated it. Somewhat.
Draco laughed hard. “I keep chasing after you? You’re the one who was prancing around here with your tits hanging out and your skirt rolled up til I could nearly see your ass. Then you bent yourself over that desk knowing exactly what you wanted. I certainly wasn’t about to walk away from that invitation.” He’d have been a fool to do so!
"Which is why, you're a slag." Hermione concluded curtly, emptying her glass and taking it to the sink. This put her dangerously close to him, but she just had to stay focused.
"We had our fun, Draco, but that's done." She sighed as she rinsed the glass. "Just remember the bloody silencing wards next time, will you? I could be asleep already."
Done? Draco rose an eyebrow. The hell with that. He was most certainly not done with her. He’d barely begun! “You really think you’re gonna find someone who can make you cream the way I do?” he asked her with an air of confidence. “You know what would make you a slag? Going around fucking every bloke you’re keen on until you find one who makes you cum. So have fun with that.”
Hermione spun on him in outrage, eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. "How dare you!" She snapped, unable to stop the reflexive movement of her arm. Her palm stung as the sound of the impact rang out, and that same feeling of arrogant pride spread in her, as it had third year.
Hermione might have felt like she did in their third year, when she’d hit him for his blatant disregard for an innocent hippogriff’s life, but that was a long time ago. Draco was a different man, and he wasn’t running away crying, threatening his friends not to say a word. He was a man now, a veteran of war.
His head turned to one side from the force of her hand, he chuckled, and wiped a bit of blood away that escaped from his cheek being cut by a tooth from the force of her hit. He turned his attention back to her, and quickly he grabbed her wrist with a tight grip.
“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to start something you weren’t going to finish?” he asked her, in reference to their recent sexual affairs. He turned her, leaning her against the kitchen counter. His hand pulled back, and with a swift movement, it clapped against her wonderfully round and firm rear. The sound echoed through the small kitchen.

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Her Secret Addiction