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Peace in the Darkness	By : UpTheHill Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 19332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own any of the characters nor the setting from the Harry Potter world. There are plot details that are not mine either. I make no profit out of this story in any way as I am writing for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7: Research
Well… that was… very interesting.
What was Hermione supposed to think after such a meeting with Draco? How was she supposed to feel? Good, of course, very good. A little confused? Probably. Confused because it felt so right, yet it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
Hermione’s body still recalled all the sensations and prickled all over. She finally had done it, but she couldn’t explain why she even let it happen. As she lay there on the desk like an exhibit, Draco’s eyes and hands consuming her whole, Hermione’s mind was blissfully empty, and she ignored her consciousness knocking and yelling to come back to her senses. She just wouldn’t. She felt too peaceful and happy to let it be ruined by her rational awareness. And when Draco began touching her most intimately, her arousal was so strong that there wasn’t even a question whether she was ready. She was. So much.
Her insides still slightly throbbed. The sex hurt, at least in the beginning it really did, but later pain and pleasure mashed up together and she couldn’t distinguish the burn anymore. It was there, but it seemed to partly contribute to the whole sensual, exciting experience. The idea of her body completely naked displayed to Draco Malfoy was very arousing and tickled her stomach and other places, even now when she lay in her bed reflecting on her affair.
Hermione remembered Draco’s teeth nipping her skin and nipples; she remembered Draco’s hands lustfully clutching her thighs and buttocks; she remembered his fingers exploring her cleft and later Draco’s cock rubbing against it; Hermione remembered the warmth of Draco’s release on her stomach and how the feeling of satisfaction was in no way reduced by her thoughts that it might seem a little gross, because it didn’t. She enjoyed everything more than she imagined she would during her first time.
Hermione was a bit puzzled by the fact that Draco didn’t let her take his clothes off. She really wanted to put her hands on his nude body, to explore it and learn about it, to see how the wizard would react to certain touches, but he didn’t let her. Was he ashamed? Or perhaps he didn’t trust her? Whatever the reason was, there was no way it would make her want to see and touch him less. The whole experience was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough.
The conversation (or a fight) they had before Draco fervently screwed her on a teacher’s desk didn’t matter anymore. Hermione wasn’t angry or upset. She had a pretty good idea of what Voldemort is and how he treats everyone the same, whether you’re by his side or not. It wasn’t easy for Draco, she believed him, and she wanted to help, but how could she? Helping Draco wouldn’t result in only personal consequences; it would affect everything, including her friends and her.
So she was powerless. And her relationship with Draco only contributed to her helplessness, because now feelings were involved too. Hermione was sure that it didn’t promise an easy and positive aftermath.
The daily worries distracted Hermione from the Draco matter, kind of, a little bit. The Apparition lessons started and the first couple ones were quite difficult; she managed to splinch herself during the second class, but Hermione didn’t consider it enough of a win. As long as her whole body didn’t appear inside the hoop, the Apparition lessons didn’t make her happy.
Harry was being as annoying as always. Hermione hated his Potions textbook because he followed every the Half-Blood Prince’s advice and produced better results; it insulted Hermione and her perfectionistic personality. Hermione tried very hard, she flawlessly did everything that the instructions said, but never outmatched the Half-Blood Prince.
Even yesterday. Professor Slughorn had them all prepare an antidote for a certain poison following the Golpalott’s Third Law. It was all about understanding the principles, all about ingenuity and skill, so Hermione was sure Harry’s special textbook wouldn’t help him. She was doing her very best and felt unashamedly satisfied to see Harry fail, unable to even figure out what ingredients he could use. He avoided seeing Hermione’s smug face while she wasn’t able to cut that smug expression.
She pretended to be killing it, but she knew her potion had not much chance to work as an antidote, especially when she didn’t manage to finish the potion due to the time constraint. But how livid Hermione was to learn Harry succeeded by presenting a bloody bezoar! He didn’t put any effort at all while Hermione worked her arse off! And Slughorn praised Harry again, admiring his keen wits.
“And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?” Hermione hissed sarcastically gritting her teeth, but it didn’t matter anymore. Slughorn barely glanced at Hermione’s half-finished antidote and she felt humiliated.
Draco came to that class as well. He was angry too, having spilled his “antidote,” which rather looked like cat’s vomit, all over himself, and it made Harry even more pleased with himself.
Hermione saw Draco a little more often than she did last term, although they still tried to avoid each other so that nobody noticed they were more familiar with one another than they should be.
The task wasn’t easy; Draco’s sight sent sparks to Hermione’s stomach and kept awakening the images of them two making the teacher’s desk creak. A few nights ago Draco was touching her nude body and passionately moving his shaft in and out Hermione. A single thought about it made Hermione’s body tingle, so she was trying to concentrate on her work as much as possible. Nevertheless, she failed, again, and Harry won, again.
Hermione wondered when she would meet Draco and when he would do all those wonderful things to her again. She was looking forward to it, but it was hard to be waiting for something that she didn’t know when would happen.
The next day after that annoying Potions class, Hermione went to the library once more with hopes to figure out the identity of the Half-Blood Prince as well as to learn about the Horcruxes that Tom Riddle was very interested in many years ago. When she entered, she spotted the back of a tall student with white hair. Draco was looking through one of the bookcases, but Hermione didn’t approach the boy, even though there were only a couple more students in the room, along with Madam Pince; Hermione merely put her stuff on her favourite desk and went to search the bookcases.
She was making no progress; she found absolutely nothing relating to the Half-Blood Prince, while the only book that referred to Horcruxes was Magick Moste Evile, and it mentioned this type of magic just to let the reader know that the book gives no direction to what Horcrux is and how to produce it.
In addition to not being able to find the so desired information, Draco kept glancing at Hermione from across the room. He obviously assumed this environment was much safer, so he didn’t avoid peeking at the Gryffindor who was vigorously going through her books. Draco distracted her, his charming gaze reduced her concentration, so she eventually looked at the Slytherin daringly, slammed one of the books shut, stood up sharply and strutted off in between the walls of bookcases.
Hermione was looking even in the furthest, deepest corners of the library. Many books there were dusty; apparently, nobody picked them up for a long time. But Hermione did. She hadn’t had much luck with finding needed information, so she had high hopes for the books that were rarely opened and thus might contain something interesting and rare.
Hermione was going through one large book, which was whispering something in an unfamiliar language, when she felt somebody’s presence behind her. She turned around.
“What?” said Hermione quietly when Draco just kept standing several feet away, his hands in his pockets, his eyes pinned on her. He didn’t respond.
Hermione put the shabby book back on the shelf and looked at Draco again.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said indifferently. “Somebody might see.”
But Hermione wasn’t completely sure if she believed that. Madam Pince was sitting at her desk most of the time while it was very unlikely that some students would be wandering around such corners of the library that she was in right now.
Draco drew closer and laid his hand on Hermione’s waist. She blenched.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, but Draco’s hands kept slowly wrapping around her and pulling her closer.
Hermione’s frowned eyes were anxiously moving in all directions, viewing whether nobody was coming. She didn’t really feel like she was interested in fooling around in a public place were anyone could walk in on them, although her underwear were getting damper and it was no coincidence.
“Are you out of your mind?” Hermione whispered fiercely when Draco leaned closer, but he didn’t listen. She saw his grey eyes full of longing before he almost sank his teeth into her neck.
Hermione’s heart was pounding in her stomach. Draco trapped her between the bookcase and himself and curled his arm around her thigh, holding it in place by his side. She tried wriggling out of Malfoy’s clutches, but it turned out to be unsuccessful; not because he was seizing her hard, but because deep down she didn’t want to get away. Hermione felt Draco’s cologne tickle her nostrils and adrenaline fill her with energy and thrill, so she just wrapped her arms around Draco’s neck, reclined and let the sensations engulf her.
The Slytherin’s lips were stroking her neck while one of his hands was digging its way under her shirt. He grabbed Hermione’s breast, pulled the bra a bit down to expose it and tweaked her stiff nipple. A titillating wave flowed over her. But then Draco’s other hand slid up her thigh under the skirt.
“Oh,” Hermione quivered and grasped his hand, “no, no, no…”
But the hand escaped and boldly pulled Hermione’s stockings and underwear down.
“Are you serious?!” she hissed vigorously, yet chuckled when his hand tickled her nude bottom.
This was definitely not what she meant when she made a decision to pretend she had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy. The situation was getting out of hand and she wasn’t sure how to handle it; she had to keep quiet to ensure nobody catches them two together, but staying silent didn’t ensure their privacy either. Hermione was still struggling in Draco’s arms, hoping that he wasn’t actually trying to… whatever he was trying to do, when his fingers brushed across her cleft and slipped inside.
Hermione gasped and felt heat building up throughout her body. Those digits were moving rapidly, stroking her pulsating walls and making her moan. Draco covered Hermione’s open mouth with his palm, so she was just panting hot air underneath, trying to make as less sound as she could.
So… yeah. Draco was fingering Hermione in the Hogwarts library. He approached her and she let it happen. Her body was trembling, barely capable of keeping her up straight. It was inappropriate; Hermione had a pretty good idea of how ashamed she would feel if somebody walked in. But nobody came and no footsteps nor voices could be heard.
And then Draco’s hand pulled away and the wizard dropped onto his knees.
“What are you—?” Hermione panicked, her cheeks flaming red. “Get up!” she urged, but Draco lifted her skirt up and his lips began making their way up her inner thigh.
“You’re insane!” she whispered fiercely, but the words got caught in her throat when Draco’s tongue grazed over her clit.
Hermione’s limbs went numb. She was clawing onto the bookshelves behind her, keeping herself up, but the sensations were mind-blowing.
Draco was kneeling before the bushy Gryffindor with one of her legs on his shoulder and his hands holding the girl by her hips, keeping the skirt up. Draco’s tongue separated Hermione’s lower lips and smoothly entered. While the Slytherin was licking the inside of Hermione, his nose was lightly rubbing against her clitoris. After a few moments Draco grazed his way across Hermione’s drenched folds back up to the swollen nub at the top of them.
Draco pressed two fingers on the opposite sides of her labia and parted them wider. This made Hermione’s clit stand out more, so the feeling of Malfoy’s tongue stimulating it became even stronger. She was trying to not moan vocally, but it appeared harder and harder every second.
Hermione looked down at the young man underneath her. She could see Draco had his eyes shut and the look of calmness resting on his face informed her that the boy was enjoying pleasing her just as much as she enjoyed being pleased. Hermione tilted her head back and screwed her eyes shut again.
Draco sometimes moved his lips around her cleft, passionately sucking onto her inner thighs or reaching for the bottom of her buttocks, but most of the time he drew little circles on her flushed bud with his tongue and it made Hermione forget how to normally breathe. She could feel how much moisture had built up at her entrance and it seemed as if it was about to seep down her legs, especially when she couldn’t stop moving her hips in arousal.
Then Draco held onto Hermione’s behind, pressed his whole mouth on her dripping mound and began lightly shaking his head from side to side. His tongue kept flicking her nub which now throbbed in need to climax. But Draco didn’t stop there. He pressed his thumb upon Hermione’s weeping but clenched shut entrance and gently rubbed it. The girl was biting down on her lip, forcing herself to keep quiet, but Malfoy’s tongue was doing wonders, sending streams of pleasure up her body, and Hermione had to clasp her mouth with her hand in fright after a short squeak escaped her lips.
“You have to keep those cries to herself,” Draco warningly whispered in between Hermione’s legs before nipping her clit and slowly sticking his two digits inside her, ripping yet another forceful but, with a lot of effort, voiceless moan out of her lips.
Those fingers were twisting and making the “come-hither” inside Hermione while Draco’s lips were sucking on her sensitive, pulsating bud and his tongue swirling around it.
Hermione wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to take it. Her body was all knotted up and vibrating, but very relaxed and slack at the same time. She felt an intense frenzy of heat and tingling rise and spread throughout her body and Hermione held her breath just before it all exploded, causing her every muscle to rhythmically contract while Draco’s fingers and mouth were still stimulating her cleft.
After Hermione caught her breath, Draco stood up. Half of his face was damp with her slippery moisture and Malfoy cleaned it off onto his sleeve, leaving the poor sleeve rather wet.
Hermione stood there, her stockings still hanging on one leg, her cheeks still extremely blushed, her chest still heaving. She was staring at Draco with a dazed look when he gave Hermione a smirk and disappeared behind the bookcases.
Hermione couldn’t just keep standing there with her underwear down. She began tiding her clothes back up.
This was really something. The feelings Draco gave her were so good that Hermione now wondered where Malfoy learned all those tricks.
He has already done this, obviously, she thought. He must have had a lot of practice with all those Slytherin girls that fancy him…
This idea didn’t make Hermione feel jealous, though, whether it was true or not. In fact, it made her glad she was the one Draco performed everything he learned on.
But what if I’m not the only one…?
This thought struck so suddenly and unawares like a lightning and Hermione felt a stabbing sensation in the pit of her stomach.
This was really possible… Draco was a tall, handsome, ambitious wizard, so if he had more fans he liked to please, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it? In addition to that, Draco was constantly disappearing somewhere and was very hard to run across, so maybe…?
It would explain Harry’s suspicions, kind of…
Hermione came back to her desk all of a sudden feeling disturbed. Draco wasn’t there anymore, but she didn’t feel like continuing her pointless research anyway. She put the books back, packed her stuff up and marched out to the Gryffindor Tower.
When she climbed in through the portrait hole, she saw Harry sitting on a sofa, doing his homework. Hermione sat down next to him and expressed her disappointment with the Hogwarts library.
“I just don’t get it,” she sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “I always thought the library has books on everything.”
“Well,” said Harry, “when you think about it, it’s not that surprising, is it? I mean, it must be something really horrible and—”
“The wickedest of magical inventions,” Hermione interrupted, “as the Magick Moste Evile described.”
“Yes, exactly. So if this magic is so evil and Voldemort happens to know about it, I am pretty sure this kind of information could’ve been taken out of the library, don’t you think? Because, you know, it’s not safe?”
“Well, yes, I suppose…”
Hermione didn’t really want to admit there was no way they could find out what Horcruxes are. Hopeless, that’s the way she felt almost about everything she was experiencing.
“Therefore, I hope you are planning a better strategy how to obtain that memory from Professor Slughorn,” said Hermione in her cold bossy voice, “which would be more discreet than yesterday. Did you really think that approaching the professor in the same manner Tom Riddle did would produce a positive outcome? Well, think again,” she raised her eyebrows, then took out a textbook, a roll of parchment and her quill.
Hermione was honestly confused about so many things; the Half-Blood Prince, Horcruxes, all the information Harry brought from his meetings with Dumbledore, and, of course, Draco… the constant feeling of uncertainty was almost strangling her, but she tried to remain as composed as she could.
After a few minutes Harry spoke, “Hermione, if you ever saw Draco going somewhere suspicious, you’d tell me, right?”
Hermione’s heart sped up a little. She gulped.
“Of course I would.”
Harry nodded.
“I’m pretty sure Malfoy must be leaving the school grounds,” he declared. “Sometimes I just can’t see him neither in the Slytherin Dungeon nor anywhere else. He disappears from the map, I swear.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Impossible. The map’s faulty.”
This always irritated Harry. He hated to hear that the Marauder’s map had flaws.
“How many times will I have to say this, Hermione?” Harry cut her off. “It’s not faulty! The map never lies, Lupin told me this and, if you accidentally forgot, he is one of the map’s creators!”
Hermione looked away.
“He can’t be leaving the school,” she said blankly. “The security within the castle is higher than ever; there’s no way he could go out somewhere without being noticed.”
“Exactly! That’s why it’s so weird!”
Hermione didn’t have an explanation. She wondered how Draco would react if she asked him about this. Would he tell her the truth? Hardly…
As she was climbing up to her dorm, Hermione prayed that Harry would never notice her and Draco on top of each other in that map of his.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Peace in the Darkness