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A Wish Fulfilled	By : Padfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 21422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Wish Fulfilled
- 1
Summary: Hermione Granger is a smart girl, a smart girl who doesn’t believe in wishes. Wishes haven’t been scientifically or magically proven and personal experience tells her they don’t work. Yes, Hermione is a smart girl, but she doesn’t know everything ...

Rating: NC-17

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A Wish Fulfilled

Ever since the war had ended a year and a half before, Hermione had felt the constant urge to do something by herself, something without Harry, Ron or her parents, something normal for a change, but also a little bit adventurous.

Something like backpacking through Asia.

None of her family and friends had liked the idea when she had first voiced it, believing that for a girl to travel by herself on the other side of the world was far too dangerous an undertaking to embark on. Hermione had huffed at their objections, arguing that she had survived numerous dangerous situations, all of which were likely to be ten times as terrible as the worst thing that could happen to her whilst travelling abroad. Besides, if anything were to happen, she always had her wand. With that settled, all her friends could really do was to kiss her goodbye at the airport and wish her a good trip.

Hermione had to admit, travelling by herself hadn’t initially gone as smoothly as she had hoped. The first country she had planned to visit was India, where she had now been for a little over three weeks. Because she was a girl, no one seemed to take her seriously and continuously tried to overcharge her for things. Also the fact that everyone kept staring at her, as if they’d never seen a Caucasian before, was very unnerving, though she was starting to get used to it. And if she had a Knut for the number of times she’d had to explain to shocked locals that, no, she wasn’t married, and no, she didn’t have a chaperone, and no, she didn’t need permission from her father to travel, and yes, she was paying for the trip herself, then she just might be able to cover the expenses of the entire journey. And the heat, the pushy salespeople and the major bout of the runs she had had to deal with the first week of her trip hadn’t made things easier. But none of these things mattered really. She was doing something, really doing something, by herself. She felt alive, invigorated. Hermione felt like she could take on anything.

Well, anything except for this. Not even the most advanced adventure prep course could have prepared her for what she had come face to face with when entering her hotel room several moments before.

“Granger, come here!”

“No!” Hermione replied fearfully, hovering on the other side of the bed.

“Why not?” he asked, walking around the bed, stalking towards her like a predator ready to attack its prey.

“Because you’re scaring me,” she said, mirroring his motions, quickly moving further away from his reach.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you Apparated all the way here from Wiltshire!” she said disbelievingly. “Do you even realise how dangerous that is?!”

“You didn’t truly expect me to use the Floo Network, did you?” Draco smirked. “Or worse, sit for nine hours on a plane?”

“Why ... Are ... You ... Here!?” Hermione pressed angrily. She was quite sure she was having a brain freeze. What on earth was Malfoy doing here? Here, breaking into her hotel room, waiting until she got back, pushing her against the wall and scaring the living shit out of her in the process and then planting on her mouth what was unquestionably the most passionate kiss she had ever had! Thank God she'd managed to push him off her. After that, she'd been successful in keeping herself out of his reach by using the bed as a barricade between them. This proved to be a halfway decent solution, but only temporarily.

“Malfoy?” she insisted, when no immediate answer came.

“I just felt like ... seeing you.”

“You just felt like seeing me?” Hermione said, disbelieving. “Are you crazy? We haven’t seen each other in months, and suddenly you get this itch to see me and risk your life while experimenting with a little transcontinental Apparition?”

“Actually,” he began, a teasing grin on his face. “I was just trying to be polite, but since you don’t believe me ... the real reason I came here for was to find you, pin you down under me and fuck you into the mattress until that overactive brain of yours comes leaking out of your ears and the only word you can still utter is my name, screaming it as I make you shudder around my cock over and over again.”

Hermione stood rooted to the spot. She swallowed nervously and a dark burgundy blush tinted her cheeks. Her first instinct was to ask him to please repeat himself, but there was no way she could have heard him wrong. Yet how could she have heard him right??

This sudden change wasn’t natural. What had happened to make Malfoy want to ... to ... want to do that with her? All they had been up to now were casual acquaintances, nothing more. As she had said, they hadn’t seen each other in months. They had never even really been friends, really, just two people who had worked together while battling a war. Sure, they had gotten to know each other better during that time, but they hadn’t gone further than being comrades in arms, after the war only running into each other once every few months. So why, out of the blue, did he come stalking her during her vacation, almost forcing himself on her to ... to ... to do those things he said. Hermione flushed at the vivid image that suddenly popped into her head. She wasn’t used to men talking to her like that or thinking about her in such a way. In any other situation, with any other person, she might enjoy it, actually. In fact, that was the exactly the reason she...

At once her eyes widened in sudden comprehension.

Oh, good Lord, it couldn’t be! Malfoy couldn’t be here because of what she had done earlier that day...?

*

Hermione threw a ten Rupee coin into the chasm and watched it tumble down the marble stairway, the small brass piece clattering surprisingly loudly while plummeting downwards and quickly disappearing into the dark shadows below.

There, she had done it.

Hermione felt a bit embarrassed about throwing a coin down a hole and wishing for something. She fancied herself someone who didn’t truly believe in things as woolly as wishes that might come true. But she quickly reassured her practical side with the thought that one simply couldn’t visit the Taj Mahal and not go inside and throw a coin into the famous wishing hole.

Self-consciously, she looked around, noticing the many people gazing at her and making her feel as if they had heard what she had just wished for. She quickly discarded that disturbing notion, reminding herself that people had been staring at her the minute she’d set foot in the country, for no other reason than the colour of her skin. Without further ado, she turned around, walked through the arch-shaped doorway and descended the white marble stairs that led back outside.

Hermione looked at her wristwatch. Ten-thirty. She knew that the famous site attracted approximately 20 000 visitors each day, so she had been on the premises since six o’clock avoid the heavy crowds. By now she had seen just about everything on the estate, had taken over fifty photographs, and she was ravenous. She had forgone breakfast to be able to get there early, but unfortunately had been forced to hand in the biscuits she brought with her at the entryway. Hermione took a large gulp from her water bottle and decided it was best to retreat to the hotel and have some breakfast. A hot, humid climate and low blood sugar had never been a brilliant match. She found it quite ironic that everyone got frisked when entering the grounds of the Taj Mahal for anything that could possibly be thrown on the grounds, while the streets outside the premises looked like dustbin lorries had yet to be invented.

She descended another of the many marble staircases that led to the large, formal Mughal garden the complex was set in. The large garden, divided into four parts, had sunken parterres or flowerbeds, raised brick and marble pathways, avenues of trees, fountains, water courses, and pools that reflected the Taj Mahal.

When Hermione had first stepped through the archway that gave entrance to the large estate, and the Taj Mahal had been slowly, fully bared to her gaze, it had felt as if time were slowing down and all sound were dampened and nothing else existed but her and the embodiment of perfection in front of her. It was simply breathtaking. Hermione wasn’t someone who was easily wowed by things, but just then, she had found herself speechless. She felt immensely grateful to have had the opportunity to see such a marvel. Wandering throughout the complex, she hadn't been able to refrain from lightly tracing the design elements consistently repeated throughout: lotus and geometric decorations, calligraphy and so on, all executed with incredible detail.

Hermione felt a surge of pride knowing that this epitome of beauty and balance had been manufactured by Muggles. It was all mathematics really. Apart from the perfect symmetry of the building, the marble dome above the arched doorway had the same height as the base of the mausoleum, and the four minarets, each more than forty meters tall, which accentuated the Taj Mahal's basic penchant for symmetrical, repeated design by framing the tomb.

Hermione knew the legend behind the mausoleum. In 1631, the Mughal Emperor Shāh Jahān had just lost his favourite wife, who had died while giving birth to their fifteenth child. It was said that her death had affected him so that he nearly followed her to the grave. He commissioned the building of the Taj Mahal as a mausoleum for his departed wife. Soon after its completion, Shāh Jahān was deposed and put under house arrest at nearby Agra Fort by his son Aurangzeb. Legend had it that he spent the remainder of his days gazing through the window at the Taj Mahal. Upon Shāh Jahān's death, Aurangzeb buried him in the Taj Mahal next to his wife, the only disruption of the otherwise perfect symmetry in the architecture. Hermione found all of this terribly romantic, but wondered how much of it had truly happened and how much was make-believe.

Hermione wiped her sweaty forehead with her sleeve as she retreated to the archway that would lead her back outside the premises. It was still morning and it was already over 40° Celsius. It looked like it was going to be another scorching day that would force her to spend most of the afternoon in her hotel room with the curtains drawn. However, this time she didn’t mind too much, since she could use a nap after her early rise that morning. She did feel glad about taking the train to Mandu the following day, exchanging Agra’s busy crowds, insane traffic and suffocating heat for the tranquil countryside.

Hermione ascended the stairs in front of the archway and took one final look around before she stepped through it, silently saying goodbye to the Taj Mahal and sadly realising that she’d probably never set eyes on it again.

*

Hermione gulped nervously, warily staring at Malfoy. What if he were here because of the wish she had made in the Taj Mahal?

Hermione knew wishing wasn’t scientifically or magically proven. Added to that, personal experience told her wishing simply didn’t work. Hermione simply reasoned that if a situation arose when she was expected to make a wish, such as while blowing out the candles on her birthday cake or when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve, then she might as well make it a good one. Just in case.

For the past two years, every time she had been obliged to wish for something, she had continuously caught herself wishing for the same thing, the same wish she had made today inside the Taj Mahal. What if one of the people who built the mausoleum, or perhaps even the emperor Shāh Jahān himself, had been a wizard and had thought it a lovely idea to charm the building? Maybe, just maybe, someone had invented a charm that would grant people’s wishes, as long as they wished hard enough, and placed it on the Taj Mahal. Hermione’s throat felt rather dry all of the sudden, thinking of what her wish had been, of what her wish had always been for the past three years.

Please let me have sex this year.

Hermione had had sex before. Once. Sort of. It had happened in a panicked rush, a few days before the final battle. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to die a virgin - she was too practical a person to place much value on that word - but she sure as hell wanted to have had sex at least once before she died. She didn’t die that day, but she did have sex. Once. Sort of.

She hadn’t expected much, anticipating her first time to only entail a handful of thrust that would leave her unsatisfied. She had. Really. She hadn’t really minded; she had just wanted to live the experience. The possibility she hadn’t calculated into the equation was that the show might be over way sooner than that. Quite disappointing, and not just for her she believed. The whole thing must have been a bit overwhelming for the poor boy. She did practically jump him, after all. Hermione mused that maybe if she hadn’t been so direct, he might have been able to hold off for a second thrust.

Yet somehow, it still managed to be one of the most intense, nerve-wrecking, and above all, exciting experiences of her life. She wanted to do it again. And she didn’t just want sex, but also hugs, cuddles, spooning,... a comforting body wrapped around her to which she could cling. She wanted a passionate love affair. Oh, how much she wanted it, how much she needed it.

The problem was that she wasn’t very good with men. No, that wasn’t completely true. She was great with men in fact... as friends. That was easy. Sadly, whenever she seemed to develop any mushy feelings for a man, she just didn’t know how to handle it. Either she turned into a babbling lunatic or she simply skipped that part and ignored him out of fear of making an arse of herself. She couldn’t flirt or be charming on command. Asking someone out was also simply out of the question. For some reason, the thought that she might ask someone out and he might answer her with a blunt ‘no’ seemed scarier than battling Voldemort.   Hermione supposed such reasoning wasn’t all that sound, but she couldn’t possibly be expected to act rational all the time, now could she.

Now it had even become so bad that she had resorted to wishing for sex. In Hermione’s book, that was even worse than paying for it, and even that option had started to sound disturbingly tempting.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. This was crazy! Wishes didn’t come true! This wasn’t even her wish! She hadn’t wished for Malfoy to have sex with her!

Or had she?

Hermione absentmindedly gnawed on the inside of her cheek as she thought back on the first time she had noticed Malfoy for what he was: a handsome, desirable young man. It had been on the day of her eighteenth birthday party. Everyone in the Order had been invited, so it would have just been rude not to ask him too. He hadn’t stayed long though.

“I’m going to have to take off now, Granger.”

She had looked up and found herself staring into his trademark steel-grey eyes. She understood his desire to leave so soon. Even though he was welcome in the Order’s Headquarters - he was a member after all - most of the people who had known him before he switched battlefronts only grudgingly accepted Malfoy’s presence, nothing more. Hermione never saw Malfoy spending more time in Headquarters than was necessary and she surely couldn’t blame him for that. Also, the war was still going on and Malfoy’s job as a spy for the Order sadly didn’t offer him much leisure time. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, having neither any place nor anyone to turn to when he needed comfort, nor even just a few spare minutes when he could let his guard down.

“Wait, I’ll show you out,” she said, getting out of her chair.

“No thank you, I know the way.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione had said decisively.

When Hermione had escorted him to the door, he politely wished her a happy birthday and had leaned in, Hermione assumed, to give her a light birthday kiss on the cheek. They had gradually become closer acquaintances over the past year, so it wasn’t a strange thing to do. However, Hermione had been taken aback when instead he gave her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. Afterwards, she was sure it must have been over in an instant, but at the time it had seemed to last for well over a minute, after which he had given her a polite nod and had gone on his way.

Hermione had lightly touched her lips with her fingers. Surely, Malfoy must have been aiming at her cheek; it had just been a slight accident, so she hadn’t made anything of it.   Yet, when hours later she had gone to bed, her skin still tingled in the place where his lips had been.

Hermione cursed inwardly. Yes, he was damned attractive, yes, he wasn’t as obnoxious as he used to be, yes, his switching sides at the end of the war and joining the Order had been crucial to their victory, and yes, she had occasionally fantasised about him when she played with herself, but she hadn’t wished to have sex with him!

She looked at Draco and noticed a sudden sparkle in his eyes and grew extremely wary. It all happened in a flash; Draco leaped across the bed, landed on her side and pressed her against the wall, his body covering hers. Roughly he pushed her wrists against the wall on either side of her head and held them there, the forceful action sending a distinct tremor through her body.

“I want you, Granger,” Draco said hungrily.

Hermione’s heart was thumping against her chest, out of fear, anxiety and ... arousal? His sweet, masculine scent was all around her, completely overwhelming her senses.

“Tell me you want me too,” Draco said, nuzzling her neck. She hissed when suddenly he bit down and sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Oh God,” she whimpered. Hermione felt as if she were being branded, and oddly enough, she didn’t dislike the feeling.

“Tell me,” he murmured, moving his mouth a few inches upwards and biting down again.

Hermione groaned. She had to admit it to herself: she did desire him, even though she wasn’t sure she liked him all that much. Oddly enough, she suspected that was an extra reason that she found him so intriguing, so compelling, so dangerous. Of course, she wanted him. Merlin knew how often she had fantasised about being as close to him as she was now.

“I ... I ... want you,” she stammered, unable to contain herself any longer.

“Good,” he said smugly.

Before she’d had enough time to be annoyed by his arrogance, his mouth had slanted across hers, his tongue plunging past her lips and curling alongside her own. He kissed her soundly,releasing his grip on her wrists and holding her in his arms tightly. Hermione moaned, circling her arms around his neck and kissing him back deeply. Hermione felt Draco’s hands under her shirt, softly stroking her stomach and then trailing upwards to cup her breasts through the fabric of her bra. She whimpered into the kiss as he squeezed her breasts lightly, tweaking her nipples. Draco’s kisses plundered her mouth as if she were the most appetizing delicacy he had ever tasted.

His lips trailed from her mouth, making her whimper when he broke the kiss, and moved to her neck, one hand slipping away from her breast, travelling around her back and opening the clasp of her bra with a flick of his fingers. His hand went back to the front, then, and slid under the loosened cups of her bra to caress the naked flesh of her breasts. She responded to him with a pleasured shudder she was certain he must have felt.

She could feel Draco's hot breath quickening against her neck and his penis hardening against her stomach, her own body responding with a warm, heavy feeling gathering between her legs. He moaned against her neck, his lips slowly drifting downward, leaving hot trails of wetness as he kissed and nibbled her heated skin. He continued to toy with her breasts, rolling taut nipples between his fingers.

Oh, good Lord, was this really happening? Was she really being felt up by Draco Malfoy?! Shouldn’t she be doing the dignified thing and stop him, push him away? Or at least make a half-hearted effort so she might still be able to look herself in the mirror later?

She felt his lipsplacing open-mouthed kisses down her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her chest. When the seam of her shirt suddenly obstructed his path, he growled in frustration. Hermione involuntary sighed with annoyance, sharing his irritation at the loss of contact. Her body was already irreversibly fuelled with passionate longing and she made the choice to shove her reserve out of the way and follow her desires. This was what she had wished for, what she had been craving for years. Not just a passionate romp against the wall, but - if she were completely honest with herself - also the man who was currently making her body sing. Hermione swiftly divested herself of her shirt, her bra joining the offensive garment as it was thrown to the other side of the room.

Draco was gazing at her, taking in her nakedness, and Hermione felt her body tingle when he gave her a predatory grin. Then his mouth was on hers, their tongues tangling as he kissed her harshly, making her feel as if he was claiming her mouth, marking her as his. His passionate kisses were invigorating and maddeningly overwhelming. He then lowered his head to her breasts and softly kissed one of her nipples while caressing the other with his thumb, making her whimper under the affectionate caress. He took her hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking and caressing the tender peak with his tongue. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair and moaned with delight, pushing herself further against him while he continued feasting on her nipples. His hair was impossibly soft, she realised as she ran her fingers through it. She was mesmerised by its silky-soft texture and couldn’t stop touching it. She couldn’t believe a boy could have hair this soft.   As much as she enjoyed touching it, she found that slightly infuriating.

Draco stopped caressing her bare breasts and moved his hands lower, over her stomach. His lips mimicked the path of his hands, kissing a path down her stomach, his hands resting on her hips. Normally, Hermione would feel uncomfortable having her tummy under such close scrutiny, feeling that she had always sported a bit too much ‘cushion’ there. However, to her delight, during the past few weeks this personal pet peeve had been all but taken care of by her stomach’s low tolerance for the local cuisine.

A quiver shot down her spine when she felt air brush against the wet traces of saliva he had left on her breasts and nipples, the pebbled skin of her nipples hardening even further to the point where they seemed hard enough to cut glass. When his mouth reached her bellybutton, he dipped his tongue inside of it. That little touch was enough to make her throw back her head and cry out. Hermione was breathing heavily as Draco teasingly rolled his tongue around her navel. She felt herself flooded with touches and caresses. And suddenly it was as if his hands were everywhere: running over the sensitive skin of her tummy, stroking her arse, squeezing her breasts, twisting her nipples, gradually travelling downwards, slowly moving closer to the destination she most desperately wanted him to reach.

His tongue took another playful dip inside her navel as his fingers lightly cupped her crotch through the cloth of her trousers, making her shudder. He snaked his hand past the waistband of her trousers, his fingers reaching the aching flesh of her pussy and gently parting her slick folds. Her flesh was already moist and glistening. He trailed his slender fingers over her before carefully sliding one inside. She pushed her hips up against his hand and she moaned as he began to move his finger with tortuous slowness. A burning in her centre shouted out to her, calling for attention. When Draco slid two of his fingers deep inside her, she couldn’t stop an animalistic growl. He pumped his fingers in and out of her dark, wet core, spiralling her passion to greater heights.

She whimpered in loss when suddenly he pulled his fingers out of her, her entire body feeling as if it were on fire. Pulling her light, cotton trousers and knickers down in one go, he bent over to remove her sandals and get her clothing from her ankles. She felt a little uncomfortable, being completely naked, but he didn’t seem to notice her awkwardness. He knelt at her feet and she felt his insistent hands on her thighs, pushing them apart, spreading her wide to his hungry gaze. His hands reached around to clutch the curvature of her bum, tugging her closer to his face.

“I’ve wanted this for so damned long,” he said huskily.

A strangled groan escaped her throat, but she couldn't look away as his tongue slowly started tasting her, quivering under him when the tip of it slipped between her wet folds. His tongue ran across her labia and started teasing her slit by moving in and out of her. Draco was gazing up at her all the while, his eyes glowing with desire. He looked positively ravenous. The stormy grey pools of his eyes were so full of want that the sight of them created needle pricks of desire up her spine. Hermione thought seeing Draco’s head between her thighs was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. It seemed so ... dirty, sordid even. And she liked it.    Hermione simply couldn’t tear her gaze away.

She moaned and sighed with each exhaled breath and pushed her hips down to get him closer. He playfully circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, apparently refusing to touch it directly, and returned to tracing her folds while journeying back down to her entrance. She felt herself beginning to sweat. The intense heat and humidity of the climate and his current ministrations made her feel almost unbearably hot. She sighed when he spent a few moments licking and suckling her nether-lips and she could do nothing but succumb to the blaze.

Hooking one of her legs over his shoulder, she tilted her pelvis so she could get more friction. Her cheeks were flushed and blotches of pink had erupted on her neck and chest, her skin glistening with perspiration. Her breathing was coming in long shudders and soft gasps. It was pointless to try to stifle her cries; Draco was very good at what he was doing. Draco gently spread her folds and slid two fingers into her soaking passage. She moaned, lifting her pelvis in an attempt to try to get him deeper inside of her. His fingers trailed a circular path around her inner walls, putting extra pressure on her sensitive upper wall. When he pulled back and plunged three fingers in, she almost screamed.

She was writhing under him, bucking and tensing under his touch as he fucked her with his fingers. Then she felt him place two digits on either side of her clit, softly using a bit of pressure to move the hood of her clit away. When her clit popped out from under its hood, he leaned in and swirled the flat of his tongue around it. His fingers were still buried inside of her, languidly stroking her inner walls. Her ache for release was so urgent that she was wantonly rubbing her pussy against his handsome face. A tension was building in her lower belly and she couldn’t help but moan at the revelation of just how fantastic all of it felt. Then he held his lips firmly around the engorged nub and sucked it wholly into his mouth. She arched her back and hoarsely screamed something unintelligible. She could feel his lips curling into a satisfied smile as his tongue lapped at her wetness. His arms were around her waist, successfully keeping her upright, because otherwise her knees would surely have buckled. He held onto her and moved in sync with her to assure maximum contact.

“Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod...” she chanted deliriously, feeling the pressure inside of her growing to unbearable heights.

And then everything shattered.

Her body locked into a giant spasm as a massive explosion started in the pit of her stomach, electric waves blasting through her body. She couldn’t breathe ... couldn’t think ... couldn’t see.   There was nothing ... nothing except for the heat ... and the blackness, the overwhelming, all-consuming blackness ... and the beautiful sparks of colour that looked like fireworks. Her entire body shook and trembled as she came down from her orgasm, the waves of the climax slowly receding, until all there remained was her quivering, satisfied body.

Hermione looked down and saw that Draco’s lust-filled eyes were fixed upon her. He stood up and slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue plunging inside her mouth to seek hers. He fucked her with his tongue, rubbing, caressing, curling against hers in a steady rhythm, making love to her mouth. When he pulled back, she gasped for breath.

She vaguely heard a zipper being lowered, but it honestly didn’t register in her mind. Draco clasped her waist firmly and, with no warning, plunged upwards in one hard, smooth thrust. They both groaned in unison. He was inside her, filling her, his face buried in her hair. He began to slide his cock in and out of her, keeping one hand on her slim hips as the other moved up her body to toy with her breasts. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, his eyes blazing into hers.

“You feel incredible," he murmured brokenly against her mouth before claiming her lips in another feverish kiss, silencing her needy whimpers. Their tongues slid against each other as their mouths merged in a firm lip lock. As the kiss deepened, their movements grew more frenzied. Hermione wrapped one of her legs around his waist, using it as leverage to push harder against him.

Now he thrust and withdrew savagely, making it impossible for her not to cry out. She could feel the coarseness of the wall against her back as he plunged fervently, her hands gripping his back as he moved, fingernails leaving small, half-moon circles on his pale skin. Her legs were quivering against his; desperately holding on to his back, she struggled to remain upright. Her breaths were coming out in long shudders and muffled gasps against his neck. Draco deliberately angled his movements so that the base of his cock rubbed against her clit with every plunge. Their moans mingled as the pace quickened. Fiercely he pounded into her, pushing himself balls-deep into her, their faces buried in each other’s necks. Hermione felt the familiar clenching in her core, signalling her release. The world around her was starting to seem rather blurry, as if nothing were solid anymore.

Then suddenly, her world broke apart, turning into a black, hazy delirium. Hermione gave a loud wail as rapture blazed through her body, her eyes squinted tightly shut, her body arched up against him, her muscles contracting around him and a fresh flood of wetness covering his cock. Draco followed her in her climax, expelling a long, loud groan as, pressing in deeply, he released himself into her, his body shuddering against hers.

They both slid to the floor, remaining upright now impossible. Their breaths came harshly as they slowly returned to reality, the world coming into focus again, their bodies shivering uncontrollably all the while. Panting heavily, neither of them moved or spoke for several moments.

“Draco...” Hermione finally whispered.

“... Just... another moment... ” he murmured, exhausted, his breath heavy against her neck, his body still half covering hers.

Hermione was in shock. She couldn’t believe Draco Malfoy was lying on top of her, utterly spent after fucking her against the wall until she had screamed. She was mesmerised by the feel his erection softening inside of her, his cock about to slip out on its own accord. Her mind drifted back to her previous sexual experience. The contrast was beyond description. When she had lost her virginity she had barely felt anything, but now she felt sore inside and out and just wanted to lie there like the panting mess she was and not move for the rest of the day.

Even though she would have been happy staying like this for a while longer, Hermione suddenly felt overcome with worry. What if her wish had made Draco act in a way that he now found appalling? Had all of this happened against his will? Had she taken advantage of the situation? Would he be angry with her? Was her wish the equivalent of the Imperius curse? Had she taken over his free will to satisfy her own perverse needs? Hermione felt herself struggling against the tears starting to well up in her eyes. Why couldn’t anything go normally for a change?! She didn’t want it to end! She didn’t want to be rejected! She wanted him to keep holding her like this and never let her go!

Hermione gasped when she felt his lips moving on her neck in lazy kisses.

“Am I still scaring you?” he asked smugly.

“I ... no,” she stammered. “But ... er, you don’t regret what just happened?”

Immediately she felt his body tense and saw him lifting his head to look at her.

“No, of course not,” he said. “I was the one who came looking for you, Granger! Why would you think that?” He hesitated for a moment, worry in his eyes. “What about you? Are you sorry it happened?”

“No, no,” Hermione hurriedly assured him. “It was just somewhat … sudden.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “It had just never seemed like the right time, and for some reason suddenly it did, but then they said you were abroad and I just ... I suppose I acted rather brashly.”

“Oh,” she said softly, relaxing against him and giving a contented sigh, glad to hear that he wasn’t disgusted at what had just happened. “I mean, you did scare me a bit at first, but the rest of it was good.”

Draco raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Just ‘good’?” he said in jest. “I go through the effort of Apparating halfway across the world to ravish you to bits and all I get is an ‘It was good’?”

Hermione smiled at his sudden lightheartedness, but hadn’t time to form a worthy response; she gasped in surprise when suddenly he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

“Honestly Granger, you really need some practice in exaggerating, if only to keep my precious ego intact,” he said, crawling into the bed and spooning behind her, one of his legs between hers and an arm hugging her close to his front, pushing her breasts up slightly. “Luckily you still have some time to practice during the rest of your trip, so when you get home and decide to talk to some of your girlfriends about this, please try using some other terms instead of just ‘good’. Might I suggest ‘the best shag of my life’, ‘made me scream like a banshee’ or ‘was so fantastic he has forever ruined me for any other man and/or sex toy.’ And it wouldn’t hurt to try to squeeze in the term ‘sex god’ from time to time.”

“Okay, I’ll try, but it all depends,” Hermione said teasingly.

“Depends on what?”

“Well, I’ve always been quite slow on the uptake,” she said with mock casualness. “So it really depends on whether someone makes the effort to check up on me from time to time to see if I’ve been keeping up my with my practice.”

“I see...” he replied with a smirk. “What about this: as soon as I can think of someone suitable for the job, I’ll let you know.”

“Prat,” she scolded humorously, giving him a light shove with her elbow.

She snuggled against him, the climate and their body heat making her feel as if she were about to burst out of her flesh, but she didn’t feel like moving from his embrace even if her life depended on it.

“Aren’t you hot?” she asked, suddenly registering the fabric against her naked skin, realising he was still completely dressed.

“Terribly.”

“Then take your clothes off.”

“How about you taking them off for me in a few minutes or so?” he proposed, burying his nose in the juncture between her neck and shoulder and taking a deep breath through his nose.

“I ... Draco, what are you doing?”

“Smelling you,” he said seductively, moving his head under her chin, burying his nose in her breastbone cavity and taking another whiff.

“Well, stop doing it,” she said tensely.

“Why?” he asked, replacing his nose with the tip of his tongue, taking a soft lick at the little hollow of skin.

“Because it’s impossibly hot and I’ve been perspiring from the moment I got out of the shower this morning.”

“I know, it’s fantastic,” he said delightedly, suddenly lifting her arm and eagerly pressing his nose into her armpit, inhaling sharply.

“No!” she squealed in embarrassment, trying to push him away. “No, Draco, seriously, please, I stink!”

“No you don’t,” he said, flipping her on her back and trying to attack her other armpit. Frantically she reached for his wrists to try and stop him and managed to grab hold.

“Yes I do!” she insisted, but she couldn’t help laughing at the situation. “It’s not sexy!”

“You smell sexy,” he said, straddling her waist and half-heartedly trying to release his hands from the firm grasp Hermione still had on his wrists.

Hermione thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. His clothes crumpled up, his beautiful silvery-blond hair slightly mussed, part of his fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead, the most dazzling smile adorning his face. He had always been gorgeous, but seeing him not at his perfect, immaculate, unapproachable self made him absolutely breathtaking.

Hermione wasn’t someone who was easily impressed by things, but in the span of one day, she had found herself speechless on two separate occasions. Draco was at his most beautiful when he was flawed, just the way the two graves ruined the symmetry of the Taj Mahal, she realised.

“Say, where are we anyway?” he asked with a smile, lying on his side and looking down at her, affectionately moving a stray strand of hair out of her face.

“Agra.”

“Really?” Draco said. “You haven’t visited the Taj Mahal yet, I hope? What do you say we go visit it after another quick shag? My treat.”

Hermione smiled against his shoulder. She supposed she could stand another visit, she thought with a smile.

Yes, it would be fitting to go back and visit the tomb with Draco by her side, proudly showing off what she had truly wished for.

*******THE END*******
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A Wish Fulfilled