face carefully, Draco thrust hard again.
"Uhhn." Her furrowed brow re-doubled. She was waking up.
For some unknown reason, which didn't bear thinking about at that point in time, his mother's voice sounded in his head.
"These dalliances with every pretty, young witch you happen upon will not last." Narcissa Malfoy had told him the previous summer. "This period will pass, whereupon you shall find yourself a witch of good standing."
Well then. Best to get the first part over and done with, Draco decided. Ignoring what was developing to be a headache of epic proportions, he flipped Granger onto her back, simultaneously sinking his cock an inch further inside her.
It took a bit of willpower not to fall on her, cover her mouth with a hand and rut until he exploded. The muscles of his biceps felt like jelly, and it took some effort to still the quivering of his arms.
She felt deliciously warm, like a thousand silken threads tightening and loosening over the entire, sensitized length of him. To leave that would be criminal. To pull out would have been a travesty. He was only a man, and as such, was a helpless slave to the ancient rituals of mating.
What goes in must come out, and ohbloody fucking oath, that felt ever so brilliant.
His lower body was too fatigued to engage in any rhythmic, deep thrusting. It was less than artful, but it was still bliss. Another two movements were all it took.
Draco bit down hard on his lower lip and miraculously emptied more of himself into her.
It was at that precise point, that Hermione Granger's brown eyes snapped open.
Chapter Two
"Get off," Granger rasped. Her eyes had gone so wide Draco was able to make out the tiny flecks of gold around the irises.
"I think I just did," Draco said, and then might have slapped himself at his lack of tact. It wasn't that he cared about being polite. That would have required too much energy.
Rather, he was suffering from an acute case of post coital lethargy, and finding the will to verbally spar with a furious Hermione Granger was too much to contemplate at that point.
Perhaps she might consent to going back to sleep for ohanother hour or two? She had gone quite rigid under him. It felt like he was lying on the clay dummy they used to practice resuscitation spells on in sixth year Charms. Gone was the welcoming softness, but the warmth was still there.
In fact, the blush on her face was so pronounced; she looked liable to spontaneously combust.
"Get off me. Now," she repeated, more forcefully this time. The petrified house elf look was gone, replaced with a familiar Head Girl glare.
Draco sighed. Guess not.
Her fingernails were digging fiercely into his shoulders. He might have complained about that too, but all he managed to muster was an annoyed wince.
The girl may have been a shrew, but she was damned good lay. He couldn't ever remember feeling so wiped out after a session. His cock had gone quite soft now, though her frantic wriggling beneath him was causing all sorts of pleasant jolts of friction.
Cursing silently, he obliged by rolling off of her and collapsing heavily on the mattress.
An explanation was probably in order, he surmised. The trouble was that he was next to clueless about what had transpired from the moment they had left the Graduation Party together, to the point where he had awakened with a hangover and a raging hard on. Other than a few choice flashes of what certainly qualified as first class shagging, he consistently drew a blank every time he attempted to pry the lid of his booze addled memory. Perhaps all those nights out with Goyle and the lads, experimenting with the human body's tolerance to alcohol had finally taken a toll on his brain cells.
Draco didn't like not remembering. It unsettled him.
"Granger, I don't suppose you-"
He was talking to thin air. There was a glimpse of bare leg disappearing behind the door of the bathroom, before said door was slammed hard enough to stir the horrid vertical blinds on the other side of the room.
A few seconds later, the door re-opened, and a hand darted around to grab the brassiere hanging from the doorknob.
It shut again just as forcefully.
Not in the least bit perturbed, Draco pulled the tangled sheets over his midsection, closing his eyes just as he heard the shower turn on in the bath.
**
Hermione was doing her best to ignore the large, heart shaped mirror over the