𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter eighteen

September 27th, 5AM

"Fuck, Granger... Oh fuck..."

He moaned as her school skirt continued to ride up her thighs, skin smooth and dreamy as the dragon's wings flapped with every buck of her glorious hips.

A sly smile sat on her glossy lips as she pressed a hand into his scar covered chest, small breasts bouncing from inside a white lace bralette that'd been hiding beneath her blouse.

His face scrunched in pleasure as her hips rolled faster, clenching his cock as his nails dug into the flesh of her thighs, guiding her with a rhythmic force.

"Fuck — I — I'm gonna come-"

He was so close, her mischievous giggle sending him soaring over the edge, releasing himself deep inside of her.

Hermione leaned down and bit his ear.

"Good boy."

His alarm clock blared in his ears.

The best cure for an adrenaline drop after a wet dream mixed with a hang over was a freezing cold shower, excess shampoo leaking down his chest as he scrubbed at his locks.

The best part about early mornings was the lack of anyone else being awake. They didn't have to worry about him stealing the warm water. He never used it anyways.

When he returned to his dormitory freshly bathed, he downed a shot of a pepper up potion he stole from Snape's old potions closet.

It was locked and had yet to be cleaned out, but the password had yet to be changed.

Unfortunately, all of the calming and sleeping draughts were gone when he checked it's stock for the first time that year.

As he was buttoning his shirt, last night slapped him across the face, and his cheeks burned in shame.

Counting Hermione and Pansy's kiss.

Kissing Pansy to taste her chapstick.

The sound of her moans. The sound of her begging for him.

For more.

And at the strangest coincidence, they opened their doors at nearly the exact same time, and bumped into one another on the way towards the stairs.

"Granger," he paused, staring down at her like a deer in headlights, "I just wanted to say that I-"

"I don't regret it," she blurted, lightly touching his shoulder before glancing downwards in embarrassment, "I'm pretty sure I should, but I don't."

He blushed, "Really?"

She nodded, clutching her books close to her chest.

He let out a breath, allowing his anxiety to dissipate. He was so sure she'd avoid him or yell at him, maybe slap him across the cheek for being so stupid.

"Do you remember what you told me?" He asked softly, brushing a curl from her cheek.

A shudder ran up her spine, and she glanced downwards with furrowed eyebrows. It was evident her memory was still hazy.

"I don't. I'm sorry."

"Good," Draco answered, turning towards the stairs, "You don't wanna know."

He walked away from her, straight for the common room door, when light footsteps pattered behind him and a small hand wrapped around his wrist.

"But I do remember what you called me," she looked up at him with big, hopeful eyes, the touch of her hand on his skin lighting his heart.

He hesitated.