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Squirm	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 28992 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Alrighty. This chapter of Squirm contains a hard lemon, though consensual. You've been warned.
~A.
The weeks following that first date have been moving along swimmingly, if I do say so myself. My days are spent lodged in an office, but having my one-way spelled wall overlooking the bullpen beyond it more than makes up for it. When I work, I can watch her as well. Now that she is aware of my -feelings- (that's such a preposterous word) for her, I catch her, occasionally, glancing up to the sure to be opaque wall separating her from me. Sometimes, it's a faint smile. Other times, she simply leans against it as she talks to a co-worker, giggling about trite nonsense. I don't believe I've been imagining the shirts getting tighter and the skirts getting shorter. They're still tasteful, but I watch her daily, and I've noticed.
At night, I play a delicate balance between casual outings with the witch and clawing away at the fiendful itch inside my head.
On the nights I'm with her, I feel free, confident, and every evening surpasses the last in meeting my expectations. I'd like to say I've only had eyes for Granger in lieu of the whorish women who practically throw themselves at me, but -let's be honest. I'm a man. A man with needs. And, so far, the closest I've gotten to Granger's knickers is her sitting on my lap while listening to warm jazz back at her flat two weekends ago. The sexual frustration slays me, and I'm not strong enough to hold myself back from what I desire. So I've found strangers, between my times with her, to keep my bed warm. They each possess a certain quality I've come to adore in the witch who holds my rotten heart: some with curly hair, others with brown eyes, some with a know-it-all attitude, but they all share one thing in common: they're not her. And it's starting to get to me.
On the nights she reserves for herself -which is most nights, I should add- I've needed to keep myself busy, and the women, while enjoyable, just don't cut it. I find myself looking to my ledger, fingers twitching, staring at the scribbled names I've added over the years. Each one, a life I've taken. Each one, a reminder of how I'll never be what Hermione Granger sees inside.
Nostalgic, I find the first name. 'Irma Leopold.' The very first essence I snuffed out. It was an accident. A crime of passion, the courts call it. I hadn't known, then, the overwhelming power behind my hands. I thought they were used for writing, mounting a broom, and pleasing a lover. I had no idea these hands could do so much more. Strangle. Break. Put the fear of Merlin himself into my victim's eyes.
I didn't know what I was doing back then, but I have no excuses tonight. Already, I know who my victim will be before I walk out the door, wand in one pocket and my crescent knife in the other beneath my robes. If I'm to have this irritating need to be bad, then I will make sure I can only do bad to the ones who deserve it.
This is who I am. This is who I will be. Gods help Hermione Granger, because she's stuck in the back of my brain like a worm burrowing inside its host. She's a part of me now, and as such, just as part of the madness that will go down tonight, even if she has no clue. She is my inspiration. She is my muse.
Gods help Hermione Granger.
Knock, knock.
"Come in."
Hermione smiles at me as she approaches, a thick stack of bound ledgers in her arms. She shuts the door behind her and steps into my office, more chipper than I've seen her since she began that insufferable S.P.E.W. program back in Hogwarts. She sets the ledgers down on the extra chair across from my desk and claps her hands together once.
"Why are you so cheery?" I ask, skepticism in my tone.
Hermione bites her lower lip, a smile in her eyes. "Do you remember when I told you I've been working on my charity organization for house elf rehabilitation?"
Vaguely. I tend to zone out when she goes on her rants about house elf liberation, simply because I don't share the same sentiments. But she thinks I'm all for it now (a small lie to keep in her good graces) so I plant a calculated smile on my lips and say, "Well enough."
"Well, the Minister has approved my organization and carved out a new Ministry Division centered around magical creature protection and preservation!"
I'm not her redheaded buffoon of an ex, so the realization isn't lost on me, and I feel a sinking weight in my stomach. "You're quitting." Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Make it stop. What was Kingsley Shacklebolt thinking? Giving Hermione Granger her own wing of the Ministry? I'll never see her again. She'll be too busy liberating unicorns or protesting the wearing of niffler fur or -
"You don't sound happy for me."
I can feel it -that painful little zap in my brain, that irritating malicious intent wanting to rise to the surface and play. I choke it down, willing my eyes closed as I count backward from ten. Not here. Not now. Control yourself. "Congratulations," I finally manage, bitterness etched within my tone. After several moments of pause, I bring my eyes back open and reach for my quill, pretending I'm jotting down notes on my calendar instead of the black ticks of lines which fall in time with the beating of my racing heart. The scuffle of the quill tip to the paper is loud, but my thoughts are louder, and I need to drown them out.
She notices the sneer planted on my face, because she crosses her arms and frowns. "That's it?"
"Be sure to turn in a two-week notice before you're out," I mutter, controlling the pitch of my voice. "And perhaps leave a list of replacements for my secretary." My smirk crawls up my lips. "Preferably, one who is more well-endowed."
She slams her hand down on the table, startling me. "Honestly, Draco!"
I lift my head, confidence growing. Gotten under her skin, have I? Good. "Something wrong, Miss Granger?"
"Miss Granger, am I? I'm Miss Granger now?"
"I didn't know you were hard of hearing."
"Yes, well I didn't know you would act like such a cur at my promotion!"
"You expected a different reaction? This business has been flourishing with you in our legal department. Our sales are up eight percent, I finally was able to fire Agatha down on the fifth floor, and, thanks to your expertise, I won't be paying in a generous amount of taxes this year. So, if you expected me to rejoice at the news you will be leaving, you're sorely mistaken."
She stares at me, taken aback. "That sounded like a compliment."
I shrug. "Take it as you wish, Granger."
"Hermione."
"Surely you won't expect our little… trysts to continue? After all, you'll be at the Ministry, in your cozy office, nuzzling up to other bleeding heart sympathizers like yourself." I tear my gaze away and focus my efforts on rummaging through my drawers, searching for anything to make me look less interested in her presence.
Quietly, she takes a step forward, uncrossing her arms. "Is that what this is about? You're worried we won't see each other anymore, since we won't work together?"
I try to play it cold, pulling out a fresh bottle of black ink, even though I have one which is half full sitting on top of the desk. I sit the new with the old, admiring my handiwork. "I'd hardly describe me as worried."
"But you are." The little crease between her brows mirrors her concerns as she crosses the rest of the distance between us, leaning against my desk. There, she places a hand on my face, rendering me still. I find her gaze yet again, feeling my cheeks burn under the contact of her skin. "Draco…"
"Don't," I snap, narrowing my eyes. My instinct is to swat her hand away, but I hold myself back. "We both knew what this was. No attachments. No commitments. Just a bit of fun, if you could even call it that." I reach up and wrap my fingers around her wrist, ready to pull her away from me. But she holds her own.
"I know you're only being cruel because you care."
"Ha."
"I care, too."
My entire body seizes under the weight of her words. Thanks to them, I'm a statue, devouring her essence like the sun shining on my marble surface, heating me in places I didn't know could feel warmth.
Her hand drifts down, her wrist still in my clutches, until it rests against the part of my chest with a frantic heart beating beneath the surface. There's something palpable in the way her eyes rest in mine, like she's coming home after a grueling day. I want to be that for her, I realize. I want to be her home, no matter how pathetically inclined it makes me.
"Hermione."
My demon takes control, entranced by her warm, mocha eyes and inviting body. Before I realize what's happened, I've stood up, pressed my body against hers, scooped her up in my arms, and forced her into a frenzied kiss that slams her backside against my desk and shakes it. The elated groan to follow is nothing short of electrifying as we feed each other our lips and tongues and souls. It's debatable whether this is considered 'sexual misconduct' in the office, considering I am technically her boss, but she is technically a freelance worker. Bollocks to it, though, because she's quitting, and I'm not giving up the ghost that easily.
With one hand I turn her around and bend her over my calendar, and, with the other, I wave the lock shut to my office door. No need to have anyone stumble in on us.
There's a fire in my soul, and the only way of quenching it is taking Hermione Granger, here, in my office.
I half expect her to throw me off, but I'm met with a delicate moan as my hand pushes against the small of her spine.
"I'm going to take you in the most immodest way possible," I tell her with gravely undertones in my throat. "Right here. On my desk, while you watch your co-workers go about their meaningless existence." I, then, bunch up her skirt over the top of her glorious arse, revealing… "Fuck, Hermione. Are you wearing a garter belt?" My mouth moistens, and my prick springs to life. Smack. I leave a nice, red handprint on her left cheek to prove this moment.
"Mmgod, Draco" she gasps, and to my surprise brushes her delectable arse backward into my arousal. "Please."
Already, I've moved for my belt buckle. It doesn't take me long to release my cock from the confines of my trousers, and I brush the length between her silky thighs. The only thing between us now is her thin scrap of underwear, but I'll get to those soon enough. To draw out the moment, I lean over her on the desk, caressing my cock against her covered clit. One of my hands snakes under her throat, and I wrap my long flingers under her jaw, forcing her head up to look at the bullpen setting beyond my office.
"Do you want to be fucked in front of everyone, Hermione?" I ask, sexually charged. My free hand rips at the buttons of her blouse, popping a few of the top off. They scatter to the floor, revealing two creamy mounds of enticing flesh hidden beneath a cream-colored bra. I rest my chin in the crook of her neck, whispering against her cheek, "Does it make you wet to see all of your friends out there, knowing you're in here, about to be filled up with my cock?"
"Yes…" She whimpers, moving against my hand as if she wishes I were rougher. Testing the waters, I tighten my grip on her neck, and in return I receive a lavish groan. "Please, Draco…"
It's all I need to move forward with my plans. I release her throat and stand back upright before yanking her precious panties down until they meet her ankles.
There it is. My prize. The sultry lips of her bare pussy are slickened with her arousal, the aroma filling my senses and heightening my need for her. Never before has a woman caused such a need in me, but Hermione Granger has never been like other women. She's intelligent, and fiery, and beautiful to boot -not in the playwitch type of way. Her beauty is timeless, like a set of diamond cufflinks or the first snow in winter. I nearly feel I don't deserve to be behind such a stunning being, about to ram my cock inside her. Nearly.
"I won't be gentle," I say, not as a warning, but as a general statement. Her response is a timid sigh just before I align the tip of my prick at her entrance and - sweet baby dragons. Her cunt wraps tight around my shaft as I thrust into her all at once, not caring to 'take it slow' or to 'feel it out' -I know what I want, and it's for my dick to be soaked with her juices. I listen to the whimper of pain escape her throat, followed by the choked gasp. Her fingers curl over the edge of my desk, gripping tighter, and her head dips low.
"Fuck…" I sigh, loving the snug fit of her lovely cunt. I snap my hips back and forward, driving into her again, making her cry out. "Shh," I warn her, moving mercilessly inside of her while I lean forward, enveloping her small frame with my arms caging her in. "No silencing charms." Over and over again I piston into her, reveling in the way she attempts to stifle her moans by muffling her face in her shoulder.
"God… yes…" she whispers, moving her hips in time with my thrusts. "Just like that."
"Like this, Granger?" I ram harshly into her pulsing core and clamp my hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. "Little bookworm likes it rough, does she? Look at all those people out there." I leisurely give her my cock now, eyeing my employees as they shuffle paperwork at their desk and stand around the water cooler, swapping terrible jokes. "I bet they'd all love a turn at you, love. Merlin, if they could feel how wet your pussy is right now, they'd be clawing at each other for a chance. Even the women." I bite down on her shoulder, bracing my weight with one arm on the desk to keep myself balanced. Hermione squeaks into my palm. "But you aren't wet for them, are you? You're soaked for me. You're being fucked by me. This pussy belongs to me." I release her mouth and grab the back of her neck, shoving her forward to press her cheek against the wood. "Tell me it belongs to me."
"Ah!" She's caught off guard, that's for sure, but I don't plan on releasing her from this extremely submissive position until she's admitted what she's known for so long. "Draco… Draco, it hurts…" She tries to raise herself up, but I keep her down.
"Tell me," I demand.
"It belongs to you," she moans as I speed up, driving into her cunt like she's the last fuck I'll ever have. "Fu-uck… oh God… I'm so close…"
I release the back of her neck and smack her hard on the ass. Then, I grab her by the hair and tug her upright, onto her feet, still filled deep with my cock. One of my hand makes sure work of her clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles while I grasp one of her tits with the other through the padding of her bra.
"You're mine," I say, as if forcing it into words she can hear will solidify my desires. My fingers tuck underneath her bra and find the soft skin of her nipple, already pebbled at my touch. "You belong," to me, "with me."
"I'm… I'm so close," she simpers, "Please, don't stop. Don't stop… oh, Draco…!"
Her slick walls clench around my dick in waves, signaling her release. Her mouth parts in a perfect 'O' shape, and her knees quake. My hand against her clit keeps her standing up straight, even as she rocks against my fingers in time with her orgasmic oscillations. Her sweet cunt milks me for all I'm worth, forcing my hand. I spill myself inside her, filling her up to the brim with my come, determined to make sure there isn't a single bit of Hermione Granger's sweet pussy that isn't drenched in my essence. I want her to feel my warm cum pooling into her panties when she gets back to her comfy office chair and think of me. I want her to smell our sex on her skin and know she will never be the same. I want her to crave this.
I rut against her until I'm fully spent, still not ready to untuck my cock from her inviting hole. So I pull us both back into my chair, her on top of me, my cock still buried deep within her.
"I'm thinking dinner on Saturday, followed by dancing," I whisper into her ear. "Followed by another version of this."
Her chest heaves up and down. Her eyes close, and she leans against my shoulder. "Mmm… I work on Saturday."
I chuckle, wrapping a possessive arm around her. "What arsehole decided to make such a delightful creature such as yourself work on the weekend?"
"You."
"Prick. I'll have a word with him and see to it you're off."
"It's alright," she quips, tilting her head as her eyes open. A smile creeps up her lips. "I just gave him the news today I'm quitting."
After we sit there for a time, basking in the glow of our bawdy episode, Hermione insists on getting back to work. We re-dress in silence, and I particularly enjoy watching her magically fix the buttons on her blouse. She reaches up to her shoulder, no doubt where a bruise has already surfaced underneath from where I've bitten her. I was nice enough not to break the skin.
"So… Saturday?" I ask, walking her back to my office door. I reach around her waist to turn the lock, drawing myself deliciously close to her body. Our noses touch, and she brushes her lips against mine, smiling.
"Saturday."
"Congratulations," I tell her again, though this time I mean it, "on your promotion."
Hermione lands a gentle kiss to my lips. "Thank you."
I back away, and she takes her leave, but not before sending me one last, gentle smile.
The beast within me curls around inside my chest and closes his eyes. He's sated, for now. And that's all I could ever hope for at this point.
(Fans herself)
Hope you enjoyed!
More to come.
~A.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Squirm