Malfake

“Alohomora”. Just for five minutes, to touch the ground and make sure that the drainage installed yesterday is working. Hermione threw her cloak on the torn couch, which stood right in the corner, and leaned down to the plant. The wand with a weak Lumos was once again inserted into the adjacent empty pot, illuminating the small room with a yellow steady light. “Thanks for the remedy,” a soft voice came from the faded armchair behind her, making her jump. “Look, no traces.” A Slytherin, as if materializing right from the dusty chair, stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. His beautiful white toned body was impeccable. “And Potter, is he taking longer to heal, the sissy?” he smirked, closing the distance with a step. “Draco, please…” Don’t stand so close. Hermione instinctively took half a step back and leaned against the table. All instincts were screaming: “run away from him”. There are no happy endings when he’s in the vicinity. His losing the battle body made another step. As if she’s magnetized. Eyes with chocolate coloured lashes blinked twice in confusion, jumping to his still slightly open chest. He noticed how the girl clutched the countertop with her fingers. Again this delicate nightgown of hers, soft shoes, sharp knees… Draco’s breathing stopped. If she touched him now, she would’ve left a burn. Why didn’t Hermione throw herself out the door past him? Where are her resources? The hatred for what he did to Harry, what he did to her in the summer, as a thousand other hatreds accumulated over all the school years, should stand guard, but where are they? Why do all her organs and senses seem to conspire to deliver her to destruction? The voice of reason — silent. The body — frozen. Only the heart, taking all the energy upon itself, beat like crazy under the adrenaline. It did not betray. Or did it? Draco broke the alarm with his Are you okay? It took just one fragile arrow of sincerity and such a dangerous closeness of his stubbornly forgotten body to destroy the long-built wall. Malfoy took another step, pressing against the girl’s hips, his pants brushing against the silky hem. Merlin, this is madness. Her tremors were almost palpable. “I can’t take it anymore, Hermione,” Draco sighed loudly, running his eyes over the small curls on her face. He had never stood so close to her before, and she became even more beautiful, as if filling the entire room, the entire castle, multiplying with every centimeter of approach. Nothing in the world would keep him in this room when he knew for sure that she would appear today, possibly once in a whole year — alone. Hands rested on her hips, unexpectedly warm. Unexpectedly gentle. “Your gift… it’s… magnificent. No one has ever done anything like this for me,” Draco looked into her eyes with his two gray lakes. He decided not to look away this time. Why don’t you push him away? Because… why? Why?! Hermione felt the cold metal touch her thigh under his warm hand. They were cursed by this snake. “Your soul is greater than mine. You know that. That’s why I’m here.” Oh, Merlin, her hair is scented… spring. Hermione knew nothing about the size of her soul. Perhaps at this moment, it was smaller than ever because as soon as Draco again opened his wet lips, gathering all his will into this phrase, and asked: “Do you want me too?” her brain answered “Yes” before reminding her “Ron.” She wants him. And the barriers built over the year are swept away like by a tsunami. Yes. Because if he beckons, she will run, even if she has worked through and lived through. The worm always interprets in her favor. Yes. Because touching herself, she imagined exactly those hands of his. Yes. Because it’s damn sinful, and that’s exactly how her other side turned out to be. Yes. “Yes. I want you,” she exhaled almost into his lips. “I want you as if you deserve it…” He didn’t deserve it. He deserved the opposite, but her hips already moved forward, as if she wanted to say “take it before I change my mind.” Damn, she’s not just some thought criminal now, but a real cheater. The one who smashed Harry’s face frivolously plays with her fingers at the edge of her underwear under the hem. These fingers… She was so beautiful that Draco was afraid to ruin her. He didn’t want to turn her into the second type of eternal beauty, into a memory. And what if this is another wet dream of the cursed bracelet? At the thought of her naked body, hidden under thin silk, Draco groaned. “I want you, Granger. You have no idea how…” His hands lifted Hermione by the hips, and she found herself sitting on the table. Draco reached out, pulling off one strap, then another. The view of the girl’s body in the dim light knocked the ground out from under his feet. The Lady Aesthetics in person spread out in front of him half-naked, illuminated only by the poor beam of a wand. He sees my chest… Her cheeks burned. Malfoy devoured her with his eyes. It was shinier than winning house points, brighter than winning in Quidditch. His face expressed delight and reverence. Hermione felt like she was about to spill onto the floor and evaporate, overwhelmed by delight and shame. Draco took off his shirt, the relief of his muscles cast shadows, making his torso look more textured. He carefully ran his hands further under the hem to free the goddess from any fabric obstacles. Astoria, Pansy, who are all these creatures? The finger touched the hot intimate spot and Hermione shuddered. Excitement from the new touch flashed across the entire surface of her skin. Stranger’s fingers… She was wet, very soft, her feminine figure seemed small. His eyes looked so carefully, reading the reaction on her face, while his finger gently caressed the small folds. Hermione couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He slid in a circle around the deepening into her, and the languor reached the point where his lips no longer obeyed his brain. “Enter me, Draco,” the girl whispered, accepting the surrender of her system, and Malfoy barely had enough strength to stay on his feet, the blood raging in his arteries like a storm on the ocean. He unbuttoned his trousers with shaking hands. Touching with his tip her entrance, he found the right angle… Forgive me, Ron… …and pressed. “Ah…” the girl exhaled, feeling the tension that had formed below. Draco slipped out and dove in again. “A! Ah…” — the room echoed louder. It was so incredibly sweet that she wanted to close her eyes and fall into eternity, but it was impossible to lose sight of his beautiful face, framed with platinum hair, so new, attentive and excited. Malfoy’s knobby hands with long fingers laid on her compact breasts with sharp nipples and gently squeezed. He slid inside a third time, and all the walls in Hermione’s mind collapsed completely. She is sixteen, fifth year. Several hot tears smear the fingers on the hollows under her eyes. Mudblood. I love you, Malfoy, why are you so cruel… She holds Ron over a bucket, he is vomiting slugs, and there is only pain in her head that Draco left, forgetting her existence in a moment. And now… he returned to give her everything he owed. Draco lifted the hem to see himself entering her for the first time, but quickly changed his mind, because all the blood from the revealed spectacle rushed down, hastening the finale. Gritting his teeth, Malfoy returned his gaze to the hazy honey eyes. Each thrust was more beautiful than any sex he had ever had before. Though those were only the first minutes! He wanted to know her taste, to see if it was the same as what the snake dreams whispered to him. Stopping with effort, he pulled out and squatted down, spreading her legs wider. Her heated bud was soft and tender. He pressed his lips to it, unable to restrain. “Draco…” she sobbed, arching her back, “oh… caress… yes… like that…” Granger could barely get enough air. His tongue rightfully explored all the spots, stroked the delicate reliefs, his lips closed higher, where concentrated bliss lived. He sucked it into himself, overwhelmed with excitement. Her juices were everywhere. She liked it. Merlin, she likes it… He plunged his finger into the pussy, helping to make this magnificent girl moan with pleasure, forgetting her redhaired scarecrow. And she moaned because she was sixteen again, time had gone back without any flywheel. “Get inside me Draco, I miss you,” she practically begged, lying with her head on the table, “I need you, Malfoy.” He stood up and pointed his cock inside again, her bent knees shook with excitement. Hermione squeaked again when (this time more sharply) he inserted with the full length, feeling the relief of her tight walls and almost losing himself. She’s going to cum, holy Mungo, Hermione Granger is really going to cum under him. The magnificent girl’s body began to tremble, she looked at Malfoy with loving eyes for the last time and slammed them shut, arching her neck back. He was already moving inside her at such a speed that the table was at risk of moving from its place, destroying all her pots. The girl wrapped her hands around her breasts, squeezing them. Draco lifted her leg higher onto his shoulder, and the sensations became even brighter, if that was even possible. Waves passed through the Gryffindor’s body, all the tiny hairs rose: on her arms, her tummy, behind her ears. Draco leaned lower to see her perfect face at the most blissful moment, so sensual, as if it had been painted in oil in the eighteenth century. “You’re perfect,” he whispered as she thrashed in ecstasy. A single tear rolled down from the right corner of her closed eye. It was the most beautiful moment in his life. When it was all over for her, thin hands pulled him by the shoulders, their chests touched and their lips found each other. Draco caressed her mouth, establishing rights, blocking all past memory. Sharp nails dug into his scalp under his blond, long grown hair. The girl flowed somewhere down. Her tense nervous body became plastic, as if a nightmare had let go of her. Once on her knees, Hermione reached out and gently grabbed Malfoy’s still hard member. The tongue slid over the head and the guy squeezed out a groan. Hermione wanted to give him all her suppressed charges that were roughly pushed into the most hidden parts of the soul. Now they were rushing out, expressing themselves in the desire to do for him everything he wanted, at once, without any limits. Sorry, pride. You are no more. She touched the shiny tip of the penis with her lips and confidently inserted it in. The elastic cock slid into the mouth, giving the Slytherin such pleasure, against which the wet dreams seemed like a children’s play. The flesh, warmed by the tongue, swelled and tingled. Hermione was burning inside with a real fire. She wanted to see his eyes, stupefied with excitement, which she had previously been so afraid of, continuously resting directly on hers, while, sitting on her knees, she pleased him. Her enemy. I caress my enemy. “Holy saints,” Draco hissed, holding her hair at the back of her head. Small stubborn lips tried to clasp him tightly, sliding back and forth. She was working hard. Draco felt like he had to be inside again. “Get up, turn around,” he lifted her by the shoulders, directed her face to the table, bending her at the waist and lifting her hem. Round glossy buttocks in front of him continued into a thin waist. The beauty of the scenery made Draco’s heart leap into his throat again. She no longer tried to fight, she looked at the wall opposite. She waited. Ron had seen her like this dozens of times. He kissed her shoulder, then guided his thick cock into this goddess, making her moan, perhaps his name. Draco’s eyes almost burst from jealousy at this thought. “Are not you ashamed?” he couldn’t believe that he was so cruel now to say it out loud. Instead of answering, Hermione moved her butt back without turning around. He impaled her, and the narrow walls engulfed his throbbing penis from a new angle. “Say my name,” he growled threateningly, impaling the fragile, groaning body. “D-Draco!” she exhaled, arching her back, pushing herself off the tabletop with her hands. His heady smell of cut grass and licorice was intoxicating, like a drug. He touched her clitoris with his hand, caressing it in a small circle, the girl howled. “Draco, please…” Oh, tear him apart, gargoyle, he made Hermione beg when he was ready to kneel and kiss her feet, every toe. Classmates' screams delighted his ears; the goddess of beauty surrendered to him as if she had only until morning to live. With those lips she kissed Ron in the morning before breakfast, she squeezed his penis today. As if a flash of lightning flashed this scene again before his eyes, and Draco realized that this was the finale. He closed his eyes, holding the picture of Granger’s pretty face at the level of his knees, and imagined her parted pink lips. Shouting out something, unable to contain himself, he splashed out into her, imagining how she was still below, with her nipples sticking out in different directions, and licked her lips, onto which a viscous white liquid spilled. Hermione’s womb ached with a pleasant nagging pain when Draco slipped out of her, still breathing heavily. He suddenly took her wrist and, practically wringing her hand, pulled it behind her back. Something clicked. Finally released, Hermione turned around and stared at the hand. His snake bracelet dangled from her wrist. If you are mine, then only mine. Oh no, he said it out loud. Because Hermione sobbed with a smile. He needs her in his life for anything in Malfake to start making sense. Lifeless collectible beauty cannot substitute the living, even if it’s as immense as the Alps. Two lovers won’t satiate his body if they are mere empty shells. A new, blinding fire burned within Draco. “Malfoy,” the girl whispered, lowering her thick eyelashes, “we… did it.” “Granger,” he took Hermione’s face in his hands and raised it so that she could look into his eyes, “we will do this again.” He had won her back from the Weasleys and would never lose her again. After all, they are held together by the white gold serpent that she chose for him.

END