Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Draco's Camera	By : bettysilks Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 37753 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I don't own HP nor am I profiting from it in any way.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Hermione had a guilty conscience. This was not a surprise to her, not at all. It was just a huge annoyance that pained her every time it cropped up. Kind of like her period, it was. Anyway, her problem was that she carried guilt and shame like a weight on her shoulders. Every time she behaved badly, her little burden increased by pounds. The weight bowed her shoulders, made it hard for her to sleep or eat. Hard for her to appear as if she wasn’t toting an elephantine stone on her back. Obviously, she could not remain so burdened. She had to have a little of the crushing weight removed and the only way to achieve such an act was to perform a little retribution. The only way to perform retribution was... Draco. It was as simple as that. He was her law, her order, her guiding light... yet he wasn’t taking his role quite as seriously as she would have liked.

Part of her wanted to scream at him, demand he make her feel good, the way he said he would. Part of her wallowed in her emotional drowning. It was no less than she deserved for taking lives. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own problems. He definitely had those. So, she was torn.

Should she send a second note to Draco, begging or demanding him to do something for her meager problems. Or, ought she to wait for him to bring himself to her. That would be the more self-effacing option. She ought to wait for Draco. But how long was Draco going to take?

She’d sent him the note last night. It should have been clear enough.

‘I obliviated Ginny Weasley. Shark.’

He hadn’t responded. It was hours later and he hadn’t responded. Didn’t he get it? Things were back on. She needed his particular brand of pain and torture. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to survive the day. Already, she was in a state of disaster. Her hands shook violently under the table and it was all she could do to keep from toppling backwards out of her seat. A cold sweat had developed all over her body, sliding along her hairline and down her back. She was drawing blood with her teeth against her bottom lip. Her stomach felt tight and full, as if she might explode any moment. She could barely keep her own body under control, her eyes kept darting towards Ginny Weasley. Her focus kept straying from her own questionable behavior to Ginny’s amiable, animated one ring circus. Hermione was watching her for any signs of recollection.

Of course, she didn’t usually second guess her spell work to the point of inanity. It was just that she had no experience with the Obliviate spell. Everything she knew about it was theoretical. She only knew of two instances in which anyone she knew used it. Once, Gilderoy Lockhart had cast it and- from a learning perspective- that did not count. The man had mentally castrated himself. That left Draco’s unwitting demonstration. How was she to know whether or not he’d done it right? Perhaps that was why he wasn’t at breakfast. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey had regained her senses and now Draco was spinning along a one way floo to Azkaban.

That thought sent spasms of guilt and fear ricocheting through her belly, even a little anger. She should have kept a tighter leash on Malfoy. She regretted being so wrapped up in her penance that she missed the fact that he was doing drugs. The action was inexcusable of her. And how would she keep his moral character up if he was locked away in Azkaban? Most important of all, if the little bugger was going to run around tampering with people’s memories- why couldn’t he bloody well do it correctly? Hermione balled her fists in her lap.

Stupid bloody Malfoy.

She glanced at the Ginny again. This time, their gazes met. Hermione sunk her teeth a little deeper into her lip and turned her head. She pressed her chin into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. She was going to bring suspicion raining down upon herself if she couldn’t get a handle on her behavior. She mentally chided herself for her stupidity. She was a better actress than this, wasn’t she? How else had she managed to keep her little trysts with Draco- she meant Malfoy- a secret? She ought to put her skills to some use.

“You alright, Hermione? You look... erm, well...”

Satisfactorily distracted, Hermione turned a glare on Ron.

“I know I look horrible, thank you, Ron. I don’t need you to spell it out for me.”

He shrugged and went back to his eggs. Hermione sighed, feeling guilty for snapping at him. She wouldn’t apologize though. It had felt way too good to let some of her frustration out and Ron would likely forget her outburst with his next helping.

She glanced over at Ginny again. The girl was leaning into Harry, picking food off of his plate. The sight annoyed Hermione, wormed it’s way deep under her skin. She felt the urge to throw up. Groaning, she turned her face into Ron’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. He smelt clean, like laundry detergent and body soap. Not like Malfoy, not as good as that but still good. She breathed her boyfriend in again. There was always that faint fiery, electrical tinge to all of their garments. It was the scent of the magic the elves used. She liked that as well. That smell was nonexistent outside of Hogwarts. It was special.

Negligently, Ron threw his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. Normally, she wasn’t overly affectionate. That sort of thing wasn’t in her make-up, but today she wanted to take her mind off her worries and- damn that bloody bastard- Draco wasn’t around to help her. Besides, she ought to learn how to cope without that bunghole Malfoy around all of the damn time. What was she to do when they all left school in a few months? Turn up at Malfoy Manor and have his little perfect pureblood princess wife answer the door for her? Huh, she didn’t think so.

Hermione threw her arm across Ron’s waist and he nearly choked on a croissant he had just tried to inhale. He drew his fist up into his chest and coughed loudly. Bits and pieces of white dough flew from between his lips. Hermione grimaced but didn’t move her head from his shoulder. She was trying to teach herself to get by with what she was supposed to be getting by with. On a primal level, she knew Ron’s gentle, haphazard, unpracticed touches wouldn’t run straight down to her core and shock her with pain the way she needed but she had to try to be content. She owed him that much. If only she could just stop thinking about her own bleeding self and her own insurmountable guilt, she’d be fine.

Ron flexed his fingers on her shoulder, almost as if he was unsure whether he ought to cup the top of her arm or just let his hand lay limp there like a fish. Hermione pressed closer. His fingers tightened. She managed a small smile.

“You’re well knackered today, aren’t you, Herms? Want some food?”

He offered some kind of tart covered in white glaze. Hermione shook her head. She couldn’t eat a bite. If she did, she’d hurl.

“I must be coming down with something.”

“You might want to skip classes today. McGonagall could get you out. She’d only have to look at your face to know you’re sick.”

Hermione shivered at the mention of the headmaster. Guilt pummeled her again and this time it was mixed with fear. She’d didn’t want to be caught casting curses she had no business even knowing. She’d end up like Malfoy, who was probably wishing his dear daddy was alive to get him out of the mess he was probably wallowing in at the moment. Hermione nearly wailed. She would be completely discombobulated unless she knew what the hell was going on with Malfoy. She’d come to think of him as her responsibility now.

“I can’t miss classes. I need to go fetch something. Meet you in Charms.”

Her words came out in a rush and she wasn’t even sure Ron understood her but he was too busy stuffing his face and she was too smart to come between him and his stomach. She bounced on her heels, her feet barely touching the ground as she moved out of the great hall. In the foyer, she pulled her wand out of her bag.

“Point me.”

The thin length of wood spun in her hands and aimed itself at the front doors. Hermione’s jaw dropped. Five minutes to class and he was outside! She glanced over her shoulder. There was no one lurking, no one that might witness Goody Granger traipsing away from classes on a fine Monday morning. She barreled out of the doors, her eyes on her wand.

She found Malfoy in a dark corner of the grounds, sitting in the shadow of a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was out cold. The scowl on her lips tightened. Aside from failing classes, was he also trying to get himself killed? She huffed loudly as she crouched beside him. He didn’t stir. Selfishly, she took a minute to look him over. His beautiful face was carved into ever perfect lines, appealing even in sleep. His eyes pulsed behind their lids. His lips were slightly parted. His cheeks were tinted red. This was the innocence she wanted for him to have never lost. Hermione bit her lip. She was the monster who’d robbed him and she could never give him back what he deserved. Tears cropped up in her eyes, along with a ghastly thought. She could... if she became his possession- let him own her like he wanted- she could give him some minor happiness. That would fulfill his strange little fantasies. But how could she really do such a thing? There was also Ron to think about. She owed him for the way she’d acted in the beginning of the war. She owed his family for taking her in when she had to do away with her own. She owed Harry, who expected her to be Ron’s, who would never let himself be completely happy if his best friend wasn’t.

Hermione sighed. Even thinking about tallying up her debt with each one of them, deciding which boy she owed more to, was ridiculous. These were human beings she was dealing with- lives and emotions, not numbers on parchment. God, she was so foolish and stubborn. How easy would it all be if she could let Draco persuade her to give up caring about her past? If she allowed him to succeed at that her life would fall into those neatly planned tracks she had always hoped for. School, work, family... But she just couldn’t. Like a stick in the mud, she could not- would not move. That course would be too easy for a sinner like herself. She deserved every ounce of strife and indecision that came her way.

She frowned tragically as she lifted a hand to touch his hair. He inhaled deeply and turned his face from her touch. Hermione curled her fingers in his hair, secretly loving the silken feel of it and wishing her own mane was as delicately beautiful as his.

“Draco, wake up. Classes are starting...”

She glanced at her watch.

“Now!”

“Merlin, Granger. It’s always you, isn’t it? What must I do to escape?”

“The right thing. When you start doing that, I’ll leave you alone.”

Draco sighed and pointed his chin up towards the sky. He turned away from her again but Hermione could not seem to remove her hand from his person. Parting was a home-truth neither one of them wanted to think about.

“What about class?”

“What about the note you sent me? Why don’t you get down there and handle my little morning problem?”

“What?” she questioned, on the verge of pulling her hand back.

He snarled and closed his fingers around hers. He guided her hand down to his lap.

“My little morning problem... it needs your special touch, Granger.”

“Malfoy, I’m not-”

“Oh yes you fucking are, Granger. Yes you fucking are.”

His hand shot out and his fingers tangled in her curls. He pulled her down so she straddled his outstretched leg and her face was suddenly inches from the hard bulge in his black slacks. He tugged at her tresses and she lifted trembling hands to undo his belt. Christ, but this was what she had been looking for, wasn’t it? Exactly what she asked for. What she needed. She licked her lips in anticipation, thinking about gagging herself on him. That would suit her right for her bad behavior. Then she remembered that he didn’t like that. She remembered that he didn’t like manhandling her at all, that he had been taking drugs to do so.

“Malfoy!” she screeched, straightening up to put her eyes on level with his.

He barely had time to crack and eyelid before she was pulling at the skin above his eyes with her thumb, determined to see his pupils.

“I swear, if you’re taking that drug again-”

“Merlin, Granger.” he muttered, letting her turn his face this way and that for her examination. “I’m off the bloody drug. I’ve had my stash tossed out by some self-righteous little swot. The bloody hell- you think I’d risk my life taking Dragon-Droga off some inbred pustule out of Hogsmeade? Never! Now get your bloody hands off my face and put them back where they belong.”

Ignoring his frustrated command, Hermione sat back on her haunches and folded her hands in her lap. She chewed her lip for a moment, letting the words she needed to say come to her. Draco groaned audibly and let his head loll back against the tree trunk. He didn’t want to be in for a long discussion.

“But you said... you said you needed the drug to... to do... what I need you to do... to me.”

“Fucking Gryffindorks. Yeah, I need it to hurt you, to fucking degrade your beautiful body like some disgusting whore. Yeah, I need it for that. I don’t bloody well need it to get a fucking blow job. Merlin, Granger, I’m a potent man. I can take a blow job without drugging myself up, don’t you think?”

Hermione nodded unsurely.

“So you’re not impaired right now? You’re going off it?”

It was Draco’s turn to nod. Then, rudely, he dropped his hand to his lap and trailed the tips of his well-manicured fingers over the bulge. Hermione’s eyes followed, the moisture evaporating from her mouth. He wasn’t abashed about touching himself in front of her but she sure as hell was. She’d always avoided looking below his waist when he did. Now though...

“Why are you sitting out here then?” she questioned crisply, slapping his hand away from himself without remorse.

She hated, absolutely abhorred the utterly strange effect he was all of a sudden beginning to have upon her.

“I couldn’t sleep. I came out to clear my head. I guess I could sleep after all.” he said, smirking.

Hermione sneered. The moment passed and she brought her lip between her teeth, beginning to chew it thoughtfully.

“You said we ought to stop this.”

She gestured between them. ‘This’ could encompass a lot.

“Yes and then I said we ought to relapse. I never mean anything I say. And you sent me that bloody note and I figure nows as good a time as any for our very first relapse. Do you want me to do it or not, Granger? Make up your mind, will you. I could be in my damn bed right now.”

She furrowed her brows. Of course she wanted him to do it. She would never deny him anything he wanted to do- well, as long as it didn’t affect her situation with Ron. But that was all beside the point. Now she had to wonder whether he was acting for himself- purely out of a need to get his morning difficulty handled- or whether he was acting for her. Was his desire for her mouth on his cock more like a desire to ease her burden by giving her what she asked for in her note? Oh, she was so selfish. She ought not to have written to him like that, demanding the way she had. Spitting out the word as if he ought to just jump to her command. So stupid of her. Now he was going to drag himself down to her level because he had suddenly become a good man who wanted to help her. Help her. God help him if he thought to help her. She was too much a mess.

“Malfoy, you don’t have to-”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Granger.” he said silkily. “I want to. I definitely want to. You know, I don’t remember you ever saying porcupine but now I’m saying shark. And there will be no more disobeying. There will be no more talking. Give me your wand.”

Hermione pursed her lips, an instinctual survival instinct screaming protest as she fetched her wand from the back pocket of her skirt. She handed it, casting tip at her chest, to Draco. He wasted no time biting out a spell, jabbing the wand right between her eyes. Hermione cried out and shivered as a million ice cubes rolled down the length of her body. Draco smirked before pointing the wand at himself and disappearing before her eyes. She blinked and a slight outline of his body came into focus for her. He shimmered. She scowled. She was starting to admire his wand-work... which was totally repulsive of her.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“I said no more talking, Granger. I see you’re going to force me to fill your dirty little mouth to shut you up.”

His hand fisted in her hair and he yanked her down to his lap. Sprawled on her stomach in the grass, she searched him out with her mouth. When she touched him with her tongue she felt and tasted his magic. It was like fire. It tingled and burned and lit up colors in her mouth. She licked a broad stroke up his length with the flat of her tongue. The magic crackled anew against her taste buds.

Amazing.

And Malfoy yanked her hair, reminding her what she was supposed to be doing with her hands and mouth. Tears cropped up in her eyes at the pain and she maneuvered his cock between her fingers, forcing herself to abandon the awe she experienced at being able to perceive his magic with her two most delicate senses. Correcting her mindset brought her back to that night, the way she’d tortured his parents with her words. She’d called them the worst names she could think of, brought to light all of the weaknesses they were ashamed of. And if they hadn’t felt shame at some of their actions, she’d made them feel it. Made sure they went off to the afterlife with a full list of their sins and enough guilt on their shoulders to bring down a muggle skyscraper. She’d exterminated them like some kind of vengeful demon and she hadn’t the right to do so. Her behavior that night had been animalistic and she didn’t deserve to live for it now.

Sobbing, she forced his length down her throat. She managed to get just past her back molars before gagging and pulling away from him in shock. It had felt like pure oxygen hitting the walls of her throat, bubbles bursting all over her tender skin. His magic... Firmly, she pushed her curiosity to the back of her mind.

She reached for him again and made the mistake of looking up at his eyes. They were narrowed and hard, completely unreadable. The lines of his pretty mouth were turned down into a frown. He was being too quiet. He wasn’t even... Christ, hadn’t he said they were back in? Why wasn’t he doing his part? Why was he looking so bloody miserable? Her brain was whirling like a damn windmill and it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. With him, she wasn’t supposed to have time to think. It was just supposed to be pain, guilt, anger- everything- being pushed into her with his body and coming out in the form of her tears.

“I don’t know what to do.” she whispered, letting her hand fall to the grass between his legs.

And that thought irked her. It made her itch from the inside out. She hated not knowing what to do. Especially now, since not knowing what to do meant not pleasing him. She could read the displeasure on his face like lines in a book.

“What makes you think I know what to do, Granger?” he hissed. “I’m not your bloody God.”

She flinched. Did he know she sometimes thought of him that way? Of course he had to know. She depended on him for all courses of action. She cried to him like a form of prayer. And now he didn’t want to be her God? Why?

Because he wasn’t taking those drugs that made him angry, made him hurt. She flinched again. After her brain had supplied her with that fact it made her wish he was on them again, if only for a moment. He wasn’t making her suffer properly and the weight was starting to crush her and she felt sick in her stomach.

“Malfoy.”

She begged. With one word, she pleaded for his understanding. She was sorry she wished him back on the drug. Sorry she couldn’t be satisfied with the way he had chosen to handle things. Sorry she wanted him to hurt her when he obviously didn’t want to.

“Porcupine.”

Ugh, her stomach cringed in disgust. She didn’t want to face reality at the moment. But the safe word was as much for him as it was for her. She could not deny him it’s use. Resigning herself to his words, she put her cheek down on his thigh. It was intimate, not that she was thinking of that. It was just that she could feel his heat, smell the sweet scent of her mouth on his cock. Feel the brush of his magic against her nose as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Granger... I haven’t broken you, have I?”

She hated the weak, plaintive tone in his voice. Hated the way he touched her hair and brushed it away from her face. She snarled her answer back at him.

“No.”

“Damn it, Granger. I swear I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I should do. I only know what I want to do and that’s the bloody fucking problem, isn’t it? What I want to do and what you want to do are two very different things.”

Hermione was at a very rare loss for words. She knew better than to guilt trip him, to remind him of his promise to do this for her- to hurt her. That would make him something he wasn’t, something he never wanted to be. And she didn’t want that sort of vileness for him. She wanted him to be good, to be so bright with lightness that looking at him blinded her black sinner’s eyes.

He touched her hair again, wound it between his fingers and separated her curls. She sighed, let her eyes drift shut. It was nice. Nice if she forgot that she had her head in Draco Malfoy’s lap and that she had just been prepared to ram his cock down her throat.

“I want to fuck you. I want to lay you on this grass and give you so much pleasure it realigns your silly little mind. You did what you had to do in the war, what anyone on your side would have done-”

“No!” she barked, scrambling up to her knees.

She would have run from him then but he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. Her face hit his chest roughly and he held her body close to him, making her feel every hard line of him.

“For a genius, Granger, you are remarkably stupid. I’m not saying I wasn’t angry, that I didn’t hate you for a while but now I forgive you. I grew up and now I forgive you. You killed two Death Eaters. They were my parents, yes, but they were Death Eaters. You did what you were supposed to do and I’ll swear to you right now my father would have laid you down- Hermione Granger or not- if you hadn’t gotten his wand. He would have killed you and pawned it off on some other lowly follower and he wouldn’t have thought twice about you.”

“They were surrendering to me.” she wailed, batting his shoulders with her fists.

He put his arms around her and held her so still against him. She let the exhaustion come, let it wash over her. She slumped against him with a little sigh and he stroked her hair. Draco bloody Malfoy stroked her dirty, mudblood hair. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

“They thought to play on your goodness. If only Father had known you hadn’t any left that night.”

He chuckled and she cried.

“If you had made trouble for him he would have disposed of you, but you got his wand and his plan was shot to hell.”

“They didn’t even fight me.” she protested, holding onto her dearly beloved denial.

“... They didn’t want to die.” he murmured into her hair. “They thought... You were a bit crazed. They thought if they remained calm you’d... come to your senses.”

Hermione sobbed again.

“I didn’t. I never did. I killed them, crushed them like bugs.”

She looked up at his chin, waiting for his reaction to that last part. He stroked her hair again, as if she hadn’t compared his parents to insects. Christ, he was turning into a bloody saint.

“How do you know all this, Malfoy? How do you now what they were thinking just before I killed them?”

He dipped his chin and turned cool gray eyes on her. She resisted the urge to back out of his arms, unsure if he’d even let her go at this point.

“I’ll show you, Granger. I’ll show you if you promise me something.”

A promise? To Malfoy?

That was enough to send her backwards, away from him. She got to her feet and began dusting herself off. She pulled on a mantle of false confidence, relying on the old in this new situation because she had no idea how to handle it otherwise.

“Well, we’re in safe mode. I don’t really have to promise you anything if I don’t want.”

“No.” he purred. “You don’t have to promise me anything but if you want to know how I know so much... you will.”

“What do you want?” she asked, because the option of not knowing didn’t rank high with her.

She needed to know. This was important to her. His parents were important to her... He was important to her.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Draco's Camera