#dhr fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pixydustworld · 1 year

Text

The clock above the fireplace read 11:35pm. 25 minutes until midnight. They had exactly 25 minutes to consummate their marriage.

Hermione wondered how the ministry would know if her shiny new husband didn't come inside her.

She drank more champagne.

“It doesn't have to be painful.” Malfoy said, staring above her head at the wall, seeming eager to over analyze the wallpaper, “There are ways for it to be.” He took a deep breath. “Enjoyable.”

“I’ve had sex before.” Hermione said.

“You have?” His voice was a touch surprised.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Loads of times.” Hermione scoffed (three times, to be specific, and it had been almost a year since the last time) “I’m an expert.”

Malfoy had the audacity to look relieved. “Good.” He said, “I’m glad you’ve had pleasurable experiences. When — when, we, consummate — ”

“Fuck.” Hermione said at the same time as him.

“— fuck,” Malfoy practically hissed, “Just. Just think of them.”

Hermione nodded. “Right.” She said, “Sure.” He was staring at her. Waiting for something; her permission, perhaps. “You can think about other people, too.”

The first time she’d had sex, Harry had been soft, if not a little too gentle. In the tent, surrounded by darkness and the ever present promise of death, their fumbling hands had met. It hadn’t been painful, but it hadn’t been overly pleasant, either. It just had been them.

The second time she’d had sex, Ron had been eager to please her, but it had felt off. Like a sneeze that wouldn’t come, like an itch just below her reach — overall, it had been unremarkable and unfortunately for her and Ron’s budding romance, a little unsettling.

The third, and subsequently final time, Hermione had decided that she needed to stop having sex with immediate members of her very small friend group, and Seamus Finnigan had been happy to oblige her.

In the middle, he’d gotten a leg cramp and accidentally headbutted her.

She’d gotten a bloody nose, and Seamus still wasn’t able to make eye contact with her without cringing.

Then, the marriage law had been announced, and Hermione had been too swept up in writing motions and testifying in court to worry about the elusiveness of her own sex life.

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” Hermione asked to rupture the silence that had stretched on for a bit too long. It seemed like a fitting question to ask, given their predicament. “I was never sure.”

Malfoy smiled and Hermione felt her stomach twist. This would all be much easier if he wasn't so handsome. “It was never my choice.” He said, “I always knew I’d marry someone my father chose for me. Perhaps that’s why I accepted all this — the lack of choice, that is something I’m familiar with.”

“You, however, fought to the bitter end.” He continued, “very valiantly, I might add. As is your nature.”

“It didn't work.” Hermione said softly. Admitting defeat to Draco Malfoy never seemed possible before — but now? It felt almost inescapable, the partnership that was materializing between them. Like the golden thread of fate was tightening around their wrists.

“You’ll figure out a way to make them suffer.”

“Not my nature,” Hermione said, finishing her glass of champagne, “That’s yours.”

The clock read 11:40pm. It seemed they could no longer avoid fate.

“If we don’t consummate,” Malfoy was saying, voice sounding far away, “And the punishment is a fine, I can pay it. I won’t pretend I’m not above bribery, either. I — we — have a lot of money. Perhaps we could buy the Minister an island? Do you think he’d like that?”

“Harry said the punishment was prison time.”

“Hm.”

Hermione stood from her chair by the fire and smoothed the nightgown over her legs, fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” She said, “For offering to pay a fine for me. And for hypothetically bribing the minister of magic with an island. But I think — I think this is just unavoidable. We’ll be okay.”

He smiled again, soft like the fuzzy clouds at sunrise. Hermione had never really noticed how his smile changed his entire face. “Yes,” he said, watching as she moved across the room, “We’ll be just fine.”

She lay down on the bed, closer to him now then she had been in years. The last time they’d touched had been when he’d clutched her shoulders the day of the trials, fingers tight around her flesh. When he’d apologized to her in that dimly lit hallway, tears tracking down his cheeks, uncaring of who saw.

Hermione found dwelling on the past did no one any good, but for once, she was glad he’d done so; if only for the growth that accompanied him with the passage of time.

Glad, that if this was going to happen, she would face the future with this version of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy shifted, looming above her, his fingers finding the strap of her nightgown, twisting the fabrics softly before firmly pressing his hands on either side of her body. The mattress refused to creak, the only sound in the room their soft breaths.

“On or off?”

He waited politely for her answer, but his hands betrayed his tension, clutching almost angrily at the sheets, in danger of ripping them. Rich people, Hermione thought, could afford to rip their sheets. They could simply buy new ones.

“On.” Hermione said in a thick voice.

“On.” Malfoy agreed. “I’m going to touch you now.”

“Yes.” Hermione wished she was someone brighter, someone like Ginny or even Lavender. If they’d been assigned Malfoy, the room wouldn’t feel so thick and heavy. They’d be able to smile — they wouldn’t be frozen beneath him, skin as rigid as the bones underneath. “Alright.”

“You’re so much smaller up close.” Malfoy murmured, surprising both of them. “From afar, it’s easy to convince myself you’re a titan, towering above us mortals. But here, I think it’s undeniable.”

“I was taller when we were kids.” Was the response Hermione decided to give him. “Do you remember? I used to be taller than Harry.”

“I remember.” His thumb was rubbing circles against the top of her thigh. Just touching the skin, nothing scandalous, but Hermione felt a bit like a puritan seeing ankles for the first time.

“Do you think our child will be tall?” She asked, “Like you are?”

His touch faltered for a bit, a crack appearing in his perfect facade. For a moment, his eyes were bright, hungry. Then, he resumed his lazy touch, fingers slowly tracing down her legs, beneath her nightgown.

“I hope they inherit all your goodness.” Malfoy said roughly, “And they inherit all my height.”

Hermione had never thought about being a mother, never considered that a possibility — she certainly had never expected to become a parent with Draco Malfoy. But a life with Harry had inadvertently prepared Hermione to adapt to her environment, like those frogs that change genders.

“I’ll need to stretch you a bit.” Malfoy was saying, sliding down her body. Hermione wondered when she should start calling him Draco. Surely, soon, with the home he'd seemed to have made for himself between her thighs. “Please, just try to relax.”

“Right.”

His hot breath on her center was the only warning Hermione received before he was licking her, tongue twisting its way inside her cunt, thumb lazily rubbing her clit. She was wet, not an embarrassing amount, but not enough for him to grunt his approval, the vibration sending a shudder skittering up her spine.

“Oh,” she gasped, hips squirming against his hold, “Wha — what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushed her, words mumbled against her cunt, “It’s rude to interrupt.”

Then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked, his sloppy noises filling the room. Distantly, Hermione heard someone babbling, broken cries and unfinished sentences — it took a moment to realize that voice was her own. Heat, like fire, like a dragon, spread across her body.

He was pressing her to his face, fingers digging into her flesh; each time she withered away from his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, his grip tightened, an arm pressed against the flesh of her stomach.

Finally, finally, finally, she felt one his fingers slip across her folds, sliding through the wetness. Malfoy’s fingers were so much thicker than her own, entering her with a bluntness she wasn’t accustomed to, twisting her open. Fucking her slowly, with no clear intention of quickening his pace.

“After the war,” Malfoy said, licking up her cunt with leisure, “When we were at school, I wanted to be near you every second. It was like waking up and realizing I could actually see the sun.”

She remembered, even now, through her trembling limbs, how he’d looked at her during their 8th year. It hadn’t been a predator's gaze, but one of blatant observation. Like he was truly seeing her for the first time; finally allowing himself to look.

“What a gift it is.” He murmured against her, a second finger sliding to join the first, a pleasant burn beginning to overtake Hermione, bubbling over the surface, spreading across her flesh, “The privilege to bask in your warmth.”

He devoured her until she came with a wail, on an exhale, head tossed back. Hermione twisted and twisted and twisted away, but his hold was firm. It hadn’t been like that with the others, rarely, it had even been like that with herself.

“Will that be enough?” She sniffed.

He pulled his cock out for her to see.

“Three fingers, then.” Hermione said, voice unsteady.

It was 11:53pm by the time he’d stretched her to his liking.

“Hermione.”

Hermione jerked at the use of her first name. “Yes?” She hiccuped.

He squinted up at her, hair falling over his eyes. He really looked like a stupid fairytale prince, even now, with his face glistening, wet with her, it was completely unfair. “Think of someone else. It’ll help this part.”

To her credit, Hermione tried to follow his directions.

Visions of Harry’s eyes morphed into gray, Ron’s arms around her torso tightened, the way she imagined he would clutch her to his chest — Seamus’s moans grew deeper, like his voice.

It seemed all roads led back to Draco Malfoy, and Hermione was too tired to contemplate the importance of that realization.

Earlier, he’d called her valiant. Brave. Said it was part of her nature, woven into her bones. If she had nothing left, she’d still have her bravery. Perhaps, it was time to use the courage everyone insisted she possessed.

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.”

Malfoy looked like someone had shot him. “What?”

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.” Hermione repeated loudly. Maybe he had a minor head cold and was having difficulty hearing her, “I’m thinking about you.”

“But I told you to think of the others.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a dog.” Hermione scoffed. “I don’t blindly follow your orders.”

She ignored the way he smiled at her.

She felt him then, between her legs. Warm and heavy, a weight on her thigh, a promise for what was to come. “I’m,” Malfoy looked upset, angrier than before with the sheets, “I’m sorry that this happened. That it’s me.”

“I’m not.” The orgasms had loosened her limbs, a crack across a frozen pond; speaking to him seemed easier now, less world shattering. “I’m glad it’s you. I’ve fucked both my friends, it’s only natural that I’d carry on to my enemies next.”

“You think I'm your enemy?”

“No,” She sighed, “I think you’re my husband.”

“Say that again.”

“Husband.” She repeated. “You are my husband.”

“And you are my wife.”

Earlier cowardice forgotten, Hermione smiled up at him, all teeth. Malfoy blinked, like someone had turned on the lights. “ I’ve thought about you fucking me before.” She said softly, “Have you thought about me?”

Malfoy groaned, like he was in pain. “Constantly,” he said. “An agonizing amount. It’s time for me to fuck a baby into you. I’ll fill you up, alright? Will you let me?”

Hermione managed a confident nod.

The feel of all of him, tossed her head back.

Unfair, completely unfair, that this experience belonged to him, when already so many parts of her were his, too. His ownership over her mind had been a subtle acquisition, but this new feeling, the one burning through her, seemed to happen all at once.

“Such a good girl,” Malfoy grunted, “allowing me between your thighs.”

Then, he began to move, and the entire world seemed to tilt off axis.

Everything seemed to melt away, all that remained was Draco, the drag of his cock inside her.

She weakly clutched his arm when his fingers slid to her clit again, rubbing slow, agonizing circles. He smiled at the tears that stuck to her eyelashes, and it was a little mean.

“I won’t last,” he managed to say, “come on my cock, that’s a good girl, let me feel it.”

She felt when he came inside of her, heat spreading across her stomach. Winced slightly, when he kept fucking her, soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper inside her.

“Have to make it stick.” He slurred.

“We can try again.” Hermione sighed, finally allowing her fingers to drag through his hair. Soft, softer than she thought it’d be — felt him twitch inside of her when she spoke. Wondered if her voice alone had the power to bring him to his knees.

“Has no one ever made you come before?” He hummed, “Does that job only belong to your husband?”

“You’ve never had a job in your life.”

She felt his smile against her skin. “Then I’ll need lots of practice.”

881 notes · View notes

sailtomarina · 7 months

Text

Mare of Desire

cw: smut, sex pollen

“Granger, are you sure we should be out here?”

She ignored his question and tugged on Draco’s hand insistently, leading him into the darkness. He nearly stumbled on a tree root in her haste. He didn’t fancy falling flat on his face in front of the girl he’d just convinced to take his bid for friendship seriously.

“Granger, slow down.”

She spun around with a huff and smacked him on his chest.

“Ow!” Draco rubbed at the spot where she’d hit him. Why was she always hitting him?

“Oh, stuff it, Malfoy. I didn’t hit you that hard.” She smirked at the wounded look he gave her and he wondered for the millionth time why he liked this witch. She was violent. She was mouthy. She made him want to tear his hair out.

He also desperately wanted to snog her until she couldn’t breathe, until she slumped in his arms and he swept her up and dragged her straight into his bed.

First thing’s first.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Trust me?” The smirk remained, but her eyes had relaxed as she searched his eyes and waited.

“Against my better judgment, yes.”

The tiny uptick of her lips widened into a grin that on any other face might be labeled evil. Granger made it look inviting. “Then let’s go.”

Her hand tightened on his and she took off again at a more measured pace. They pressed deeper into the Forbidden Forest, and Draco tried to ignore the coldness creeping across his skin, tendrils winding their way beneath the collar of his shirt and curling into his hair. They were legally adults now. The centaurs would be well within their rights to treat them accordingly if they caught them, students or not.

He tried to focus instead of the girl in front of him. Her ponytail bobbed along as she pressed forward, curls bouncing, almost inviting him to touch them. She kept up a steady hike like she’d been wandering forests all her life. Draco considered himself fit enough with Quidditch, despite the past couple of years without, but even he was feeling a tad winded from their nonstop stride.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her where she got all her energy from, she slowed down.

“I think it’s just up ahead.”

Draco peered past the surrounding gloom towards the soft glow beyond the small hill in their path.

“What is that?”

He only received a gentle squeeze on his hand in response. Hermione proceeded much more cautiously than she had first the bulk of their journey. Interestingly, the fear that had threatened to wrap him in a chilly embrace had abated. He wouldn’t say that he was warm, exactly, but he did feel strangely drawn to the light ahead of them.

They both gasped the moment they crested the incline. Before them sprawled a small, moonlit glade throughout which a field of dark purple flowers Draco had never before seen grew and cast a lilac glow all around them.

“They’re more beautiful than I expected,” Hermione breathed, voice reverent in her awe.

“How did you know about this place? What are these?” As stunned as Draco was at the sight, he couldn’t shake the caution that warned him that they did not belong. As a Potions Master, his godfather had instilled in Draco a healthy respect for plant life, most especially unknown flora.

“Luna found it.”

That revelation did little to assuage Draco’s wariness. It did the opposite. He backed up a few steps, and since Granger still held his hand in hers, she looked back startled at his retreat.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think we should be here.” Was it just him, or did the flower heads seem to all turn their direction as if watching? He shuddered at the horrible notion.

“You said you trust me, right?”

His eyes snapped back towards hers. All teasing was gone. In its place was genuine concern. She bit her lip as she waited for his reply, and he couldn’t stop himself from licking his own.

“Yeah.”

“Then keep on trusting me,” she murmured, brows rising high on her forehead in a plea.

Without any further protest, he followed her straight into the purple haze. The flowers along the path seemed to part and accept the humans who thought themselves safe. Neither Draco or Hermione brushed the petals that arced away even as wizard and witch continued their climb.

“Here we are.” She came to a stop in front of one of the mysterious plants. Unlike the others, with their vibrant violet petals, this one was so dark and swollen it might have been identified as a poisonous variety. Rather than drop Draco’s hand, Hermione turned to beckon him forward next to her. “I’ll cut it. Try to catch it without moving it too much. Keep it upright.”

He nodded his understanding and raised his free hand to hover in preparation. One severing charm later, and the bud landed softly in the palm of his hand.

“Gently now,” she breathed, watching him as he pulled their spoils closer. “One moment…”

She fumbled at her bag. While she did so, Draco found himself leaning forward. Why had she been so particular about the flower’s handling? His head bent as his wrist tipped, nose brushing against the opening. There was a fleeting fragrance, one he hadn’t noticed before somehow, even surrounded as they were.

Herimone popped back upright, jar in hand. “Here we are—Draco, no!”

He inhaled deeply, heady with a perfume both alien and altogether too familiar. Salty, tangy, sweet, fleeting, all-encompassing—

His nose was almost buried within the opening, pressed up against the stigma and its surrounding stamen. A painful grip on the back of his head yanked him backwards, sending a cloud of yellow pollen into the air around them.

Of course, Hermione breathed in as she opened her mouth to no doubt yell at him for his stupidity. The tight strain on his strands loosened, and she shuddered in place as she, too, inhaled deeply a second time. They stood there, sucking in lungfuls of pollen-filled air like a couple of addicts.

It could have been mere minutes, or hours. They were never sure. When they came to their senses, the moon still hung in the sky, the flowers around them still gave off their light, but the black specimen for which she had searched through the entire field hung limp in Draco’s fist, lacking its original turgidity.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what came over me—” Draco turned to face her in his apology, but froze the instant their eyes connected.

Whatever caused the other flowers to glow seemed to now affect Granger, the same lilac shade radiating off her pale skin.

“Draco…you’re glowing…” she whispered.

He’d look down at himself, but found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Now that they stood close, noses brushing against one another in their inspection, he could see gold flecks throughout irises he’d once thought only dark brown. Thick lashes blinked, and he mimicked her action.

“I feel…strange.”

“Me too.”

They whispered to one another as if afraid someone would overhear them, but of course they were all alone in their glade.

“What was that flower?” His lips hovered over her own. He wasn’t quite touching.

“A Mare of Delight.” Her tiny puffs of air teased him. “It’s a—”

“Powerful aphrodisiac. It’s a myth,” he finished for her. He’d heard the stories. The boys always liked to toss back and forth what ifs about the legendary plant. WIthout even thinking about it, his hands slid into her hair, tugging her head back so he arched over her like a predator about to devour its prey.

“It’s not a myth.” Fingers grasped his collar and tried to tug him forward.

“It is,” he choked out, straining against her pull but not stepping away, either.

“Then why do you want to fuck me so badly right now?”

Her vulgarity shocked him almost as much as it turned him on.

“I wanted to before we even came down here.”

The moment the words left his lips, her eyes flashed and she wound her arms around his neck to yank him down to the ground with her. Draco struggled to not crush her with his weight, forearms dropping to cage her in beneath him, knee parting her thighs.

“I also have something to confess,” she drawled in a near perfect imitation of his usual unaffected veneer. She arched her hips up against his leg and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing back into her.

“And what’s that?”

The combination of her body pulling him forward and the pressure of his swollen need within the too-tight confines of his trousers had him mad with need.

“I want the same thing.” Faster than he could react, she dropped a hand between them and squeezed.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so pleased as he jerked into her grasp. “Granger…” he groaned, still holding himself back.

She wasn’t having any of that. Both hands now at work, she tugged open his trousers and slipped one in to palm him skin to skin.

“Oh, fuck, I’m going to, shit Granger—” With a shout, he came, the wetness of his cum covering her hand and his own clothing. The relief was immediate, radiating outwards to his limbs and giving him a brief moment of lightheadedness.

She squeezed once more.

Fuck.

He was still hard.

Hermione leaned forward to nibble at his ear, her fingers continuing to stroke through his spend. “My turn.”

She sat up slowly and pushed against his chest with the palm of her hand, encouraging him to fall onto his back with her hovering above him. With a wink, Hermione tucked her fingers, one set clean, the other sticky, under the waistband to tug off his bottoms. A glorious mess covered his crotch. He would’ve been embarrassed if not for the way she bent down and immediately licked up the underside of his shaft.

“You taste delicious.”

He laughed in disbelief as she proceeded to lap up every bit of evidence until he glistened with her spit, the tip of his cock oozing more precum in anticipation of more.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered. He raised a brow at her tone, but did as she asked, undoing the buttons and shrugging off the layers as she stood up to do the same.

The moon and surrounding flora only added to her light from within, the very tips of her fingers, nipples, and hair brightened by the force propelling them both towards one another. Blame the Mare of Delight. Call it fulfilled fantasies. They now followed a path that would not be deterred by anything less than a cataclysmic disaster.

He held out his hand in invitation. She took it.

Hermione straddled him, one hand positioning him at her entrance. Draco wanted to stop her, to pull her up and have her sink onto his face. She deserved nothing less than to be worshipped. He craved a taste, to drink in her essence and make her scream out his name from his tongue alone.

One warning look from her put such thoughts aside. He would sample another time, if she’d let him. He wouldn’t keep from her what she demanded in this moment; he didn’t have it in him to deny her. The barest brush of his cock against her proved he wasn’t the only one leaking from want. She was drenched in her own juices, and they liberally coated him as she made one pass, then two. She notched him in place before setting both hands atop his knees, then, with a sigh of relief, sank down to take him in fully.

Maddening heat. Pressure from all sides. A sleeve of molten liquid.

She felt like everything he’d dreamed, but nowhere near what he’d imagined.

She was more.

She was his.

Using his knees as leverage, she pulled up to the tip, then dropped down with force, grinding at the hilt and squeezing her inner muscles. They both moaned at the thrumming pleasure that held them over the edge. Only two strokes, and Draco was ready to explode.

“I’m so close,” she panted.

He couldn’t even reply, he was so focused on not finishing before her. Instead, he grabbed onto her hips and rocked into her even deeper. She nearly fell onto him in her shock, palms slapping down onto his chest to stay upright. The look she gave him begged permission, and he jerked out a single nod.

Keeping her hands on his pecs, she used him in her pursuit of her own climax. All Draco could do was hold on for dear life. She rode him with abandon, panting loudly, thighs quivering each time she slammed back down onto him.

“Un, un, un!” She’d lost her battle with words. He could feel her walls pulsing in a warning, one he took seriously.

He rotated his thumb to hover around the hood of her clit. She whined at the hint of his touch and he increased pressure to rub circles in time to her own thrusts. Hermione’s grip on his skin tightened, nails digging into the skin. Her mouth dropped open as she flung her head back.

“Ahhhh, ahh!” The moment she convulsed, he firmly grasped her hips and took over for her, lifting and bringing her back down to prolong her ecstasy. He felt his cock swell, then explode deep into her. The thought that he filled her consumed him with a rabid desire to possess.

He gripped the back of her neck to protect her as he flipped them over. She squealed at the change in position, hands flying out to grab onto the stems of the nearby plant life and hanging on as he took control. Even though he’d come twice now, he still felt painfully hard.

Keeping his hand behind her head, fingers sliding up and into her curls, he used his other hand to grasp her thigh and spread her wide. He’d probably leave bruises, but that made him mad with need, too. His cum in her, his marks on her skin.

His.

With that word echoing in his mind and need vibrating through his core straight into his cock, he drove into her repeatedly with a reckless desire to own her completely. He wanted her to ache with the feeling of him inside of her for weeks. His spend would leak past her knickers and drip down her legs and leave a trail for everyone to know that she was taken.

His heart pounded so loudly he felt deafened by his own race to completion. The closer he got, the more reluctant he felt about letting go. He desperately needed to finish. He never wanted this moment to end.

The twisted emotions must have shown on his face, because one moment he was in agony, and the next he felt fingers winding into his hair, palms cupping his face.

“Draco.”

The soft plea of his name caused him to slow. He looked up from her gorgeous bouncing tits, the nipples flushed pink, and fell into the pools of her eyes. He was drawn forward, his body pressing close, chest to chest.

“Kiss me, Draco,” she whispered.

Had they not…? Oh.

His mouth sought her own, and the moment they touched, he was lost in her, all worries falling away. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips. Upon the parting of them, she delved in and mimicked the rhythm of his hips, circling and sucking and shoving him right up against the precipice of his inevitable destruction.

Her kiss inhaled his moan as his release struck, sure and complete. He bucked with each pulse of spend coating her insides. She continued to hold him close as he groaned and rode out his pleasure until only ripples remained. With a final nip to her bottom lip, he collapsed, finally spent and all energy drained out of him and into her.

They must have fallen asleep like that, Draco’s body weighing her down, Hermione’s holding him close in acceptance, because the next thing he remembered was his eyes opening to the sensation of fingers tracing patterns on his back. They’d somehow rotated onto their sides, their arms and legs still intertwined.

“Fucking Luna,” he murmured. Runes. She was drawing runes on him. Protection. Devotion.

“I hope not,” Hermione teased in reply.

He huffed, still reluctant to move and dispel this dream they’d fallen into. “I’m yours, now, you minx. Unless that wasn’t already clear.”

Propping her head up on one hand, she looked down at him, a smile threatening to take over her expression. “Yeah?”

He found the energy to dart out a hand and tweaked her nipple.

“Hey!”

“Yours,” he affirmed.

Hermione sobered at his tone, bringing her free hand up to cover his own where it still lay close to her chest. She brought it up to drop a kiss to their knuckles. She met his gaze, eyes softening and a smile filling her features and his heart with warmth.

“And I’m yours.”

WC 2864

10/7 "Sex Pollen" prompt for 2023 @hpkinktober Fest

Cross posted on AO3

This is my first time participating in Kinktober, not surprising really since I only started writing fanfiction last December. I'm still kinda shy about writing straight smut with very little to no story, so…yeah. Here's my attempt! Sex! Plants! What more could I ask for?

#hp kinktober 2023 #dramione #dhr fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy #sex pollen

160 notes · View notes