hpkinkfest | Entries tagged with kink: ust

Title: The Chase
Author: ally_147
Prompt Number: #72 from

rzzmg
Kink Showcased: UST
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Summary: “Still think we should stay here, Granger?” he whispered close to her ear. “No wands, no magic, nothing?”
Warnings: None
Word Count: ~5000
Author's Notes: So, I had a lot of trouble with this story. A lot. Not so much with the subject matter, but definitely with the sheer amount of content that wanted to come out. I’d like for you guys to consider this to be a prologue or first chapter to something larger, as I had to cut it off if I wanted to be able to post anything at all, so I dearly hope you’ll forgive me for this and look forward to something a little more complete down the line. Thank you to

kanames_harisen for her beta help again, and thank you to the mods who were incredibly understanding when I missed my posting date.

Draco drew in deep, heaving breaths through his mouth. His tense hold on his wand nearly snapped the springy length of Hawthorn as he came to a grinding halt in the dingy, poorly-lit alleyway behind some bloated Muggle supermarket. He cast quick glances down the alley and onto the street covered with filthy, grey snow before he heard the tell-tale crack of Apparition. He let out a feral growl and kicked the lid from a Muggle bin, listening with a wince to the loud, metallic scrape it made as it skidded over the glittering asphalt.

“Fucking hell, Granger, he got away again,” he spat, his breath coming out in thick puffs of steam as his prissy-as-all-fuck Auror partner (and the singular star of every angry wank fantasy he’d tossed off to since they were thrown together two years prior) came to a staggered halt beside him. She braced her hands on her knees and hunched over, breathing in deep through her nose.

Hermione shot him a nasty sideways glare. “You think I didn’t already notice this, Malfoy?”

“Yes, actually, given that you seemed far more interested in, oh, I don’t know, fucking anything but our Merlin-damned mission!”

She drew herself up to her full height – still only coming to just below his shoulder – and shot him a withering glare. She set her hands on her hips and gave her best attempt at intimidation, but the effort fell flat: her eyes were glittering with barely contained anger, and the expression she wore was not unlike the fiercely reprimanding one that had caused many a tremble in the younger years’ during her prefect days, but her cheeks were flushed pink from their run and the cold, and her chest heaved with each breath she took, hidden behind layer upon layer of Muggle winter garb. His eyes were instantly drawn to her reddened lips as she swiped her tongue over them, and he felt his cock twitch and begin to harden painfully behind his denims.

Fucking hell, she would be the death of him before long.

Thank Merlin the denims were tight enough to cover all manner of his sins, as he wasn’t sure his extremely pesky feelings for Granger could be considered anything less than blasphemous. The jeans were the epitome of cool, she had told him, and yet they were still among the most fucking uncomfortable garments he had ever had the occasion to wear. How Muggles could bear these ridiculous clothes he had no idea.

“Someone has to clean up your mess!” she seethed as she repeated prodded his chest with the tip of her finger. “Do you have any idea how many Obliviate charms I had to perform tonight because you couldn’t be stuffed looking around first before you started throwing hexes?”

He let out a bitter laugh and grasped her wrist to lead them both towards the entrance of the long alley and in the direction of the closest Apparition point: an abandoned playground at the centre of an old park that gave him chills just to look at. “Pardon me for wanting to get this done as soon as possible, Granger. Giving a magical high to a Muggle is a sure-fire way to kill them, and this is the fourth time the bastard’s managed to outrun us.”

She sighed and stowed her wand back in the pocket of her Muggle trench coat. She matched his strides with her long, svelte legs encased in skin-tight denim as she walked alongside him. “We’ll track him again, Malfoy,” she assured him, her words spoken around breathless pants that had his mind wandering to places it ought not to go. “We always do. He’s hardly covert about it, after all. Neither are the Muggles who seek him out.”

“What do you suggest, then, Granger? You’ve got an answer for everything after all.”

Her mouth was set in a thin line when she stopped at the Apparition point and replied, “I hit him with a tracking spell,” she told him flatly before glancing down at the watch strapped to her wrist. “Look, it’s getting late. Maybe we should get a room at a hotel for the night and start tracking him again tomorrow.”

“A hotel?” Draco repeated, dumbfounded. He ran a hand through his hair and let out an annoyed huff or air. “Pray tell, Granger, why?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You wanted this finished as soon as possible, correct?”

They stared at each other across the narrow distance for immeasurable minutes. Draco could almost feel the tension between them stretch to nearly the breaking point. He was the first to avert his eyes, turning to the side with a silent curse at his complete lack of fortitude where this woman was concerned.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Are you calling Robards or am I?”

Hermione busied herself with a Muggle pen and a notebook she produced from one of her never-ending pockets, barely glancing up at him as she scribbled away. “You can.”

Growling softly to himself, Draco took a small mirror from within his coat and tapped it three times with his wand. “Robards,” he spoke at the glass.

Two heartbeats later, and Head Auror Gawain Robards was standing in front of them, wrapped in a coat reminiscent of Muggle military style, and with a furred hat that looked strangely like a dead possum pulled low over his head. Draco wasn’t sure whether he should salute the man or burst out laughing.

“Granger. Malfoy,” he acknowledged them gruffly. “What is it?”

“He got away, sir,” Hermione stated, her tone even and emotionless. “He Apparated.”

“Apparated?” Robards repeated dangerously. “I trust at least one of you wasn’t fuck-wit enough to forgo hitting the prick with a Tracer?”

“I did, sir,” Hermione said. The heavy emphasis on I left Draco scowling, but fuck it all if he wasn’t rock-hard all over again at her prissy, holier-than-thou tone. “Malfoy tried to slow him down, but –”

“Slow him down?” Robards rounded on him, a menacing expression twisting at his lips and making his moustache twitch. Out of the periphery of his vision, Draco could see Hermione flash him a sweetly innocent smile. He sneered in reply; the little chit would pay dearly for selling him out before they were through.

Robards closed his eyes, his thin lips pulled in a taut line as he took in a sharp breath through his nose. “Malfoy, tell me you weren’t fool enough to use magic in front of the bloody Muggles, for Merlin’s sake!”

“I used whatever measures I felt were necessary,” Draco smoothly replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “If Muggles saw, then so be it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he growled. “That’s it! No more wands,” Robards snatched Draco’s wand straight from his hand; Draco was appalled. “You’ve done enough damage with yours, Malfoy! Merlin knows what we’d have to do with you if Granger wasn’t there to pick up your slack!”

“And how do you propose we bring the prick back to headquarters, then, sir?’ Draco seethed as he watched Hermione hand her wand over willingly. “We grab him by the scuff of his neck and drag him back?”

“With this.” Robards tucked the wands up his sleeve and plucked from his pocket a golden disc in the likeness of a Galleon. “Get this in his hand somehow, and make sure it touches his skin. It’ll act as an immediate Portkey, and he’ll be transported to a Ministry holding cell; someone will be waiting to book him when he arrives.”

Hermione took the disc in her gloved hand and held it up to the soft, buttery-yellow light cast by the street lamp. “We’ll make sure he takes it, sir,” she assured the other man as she gently slipped the disc into her pocket.

“Good. Now, Malfoy, Granger; need I remind you? Whatever it takes, got it? We can’t have this bastard exposing our world any longer.”

“Yes, sir,” they said simultaneously.

“Good. Stick together; you two were brought in on this case for a reason. I don’t want either of you getting hurt out here.”

It was the closest Robards would ever come to admitting they were any good at their jobs. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Granger positively preening at the unspoken praise as Robards silently Disapparated, leaving only wet boot-prints as any indication that anyone had been standing in front of them at all.

“Now what, Granger?” Draco asked, his breath turning to steam on the cold air.

“You follow me,” she immediately replied, taking off at speed to the alley entrance. “There’s a hotel we can stay at just around the corner. It’s a little… seedy, shall we say, but it’ll have to do.”

He almost had to jog to keep up with her as she rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of one of the dingiest buildings he had ever seen, complete with neon signage and Muggle whores and drunk homeless shouting obscenities at them from across the street.

“A Muggle hotel, Granger?” he asked, sniffing in distaste at the weathered exterior and less-than-savoury patronage. “Here, of all places?”

“Yes, here. There aren’t many hotels around here; the area doesn’t really lend itself to being a tourist locale, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, it’s not as though our mystery wizard varies his location too terribly, and doesn’t this seem like a location he would choose for his dealings? He’ll be close by,” she told him quietly as they walked through the narrow door. The stench of the room had him reeling: alcohol, cigarettes, vomit and sweat, and a disgusting combination of unidentifiable odours coming from the filthiest carpet he had ever seen in his life.

One glance at Granger, and he felt gratified to see her nose scrunched up and her lips twisted in disgust as well.

“Still think we should stay here, Granger?” he whispered close to her ear. “No wands, no magic, nothing?”

She jumped in surprise. “I don’t think we have much choice,” she replied, just as lowly. “Do we…” She trailed of hesitantly. “Should we act like we’re a happy couple? Are we trying to fool anyone? Robards did say we should stick together, and acting the part might help. Besides, you never know; our mystery wizard might ask around.”

Draco quirked a brow at her and gestured at their surroundings. “Does this look like the sort of place where a happy couple would go?”

Her cheeks flushed the most fetching shade of pink. “Well, not exactly, but perhaps we’re lovers enacting a fantasy of some sort. Or maybe we’re backpackers who got lost and just need a room. Or maybe –”

“Or maybe our marriage is on the verge of collapse,” he cut in, his tone a low drawl, “and picking this particular hotel is representative of how neither of us give a fuck about each other anymore. That sounds about accurate for us, yes?”

Hermione glared at him before she took off in a little jog towards a green-lit booth occupied by a balding man in a loose-hanging singlet with a dead-eyed stare.

“Hello,” Hermione began tentatively, a falsely cheerful smile plastered on her lips. Draco came up alongside her and watched as her gaze darted nervously about the wall pinned with pictures of women in various stages of undress. He grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling most gratified when she leaned ever so slightly into his touch. “We’d like a room for the night, please.”

The man grunted and pulled a key from beneath the desk he was sitting at. “Fifty pounds.”

“Fifty…” Hermione spluttered. “Fifty? But –”

“Oh, surely price is no object, is it, love?” Draco cut in smoothly. He pulled from his coat pocket a leather wallet, full to the brim with Muggle paper money he kept for occasions just such as these. He counted out the necessary fifty and laid them on the bench. “Not for what we’re about to do.”

He ducked down and pressed a line of kisses to the side of her neck before taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth, delighting in her little tremble and the way her cheeks flushed. Gods, but she smelled incredible – cherry blossoms and vanilla, and something else that he could only describe as being quintessentially Granger. The man behind the counter leered at them both as he took the money and carefully counted it out, making a show of fanning the bills about his face.

“All in order,” he announced with a lecherous smile as he slid the grimy key across the benchtop. “You lovebirds are lucky; busy night tonight, we’ve only got the one room left. Fourth floor, room eighty-eight.”

“Thank you,” Draco said in his most silky voice, picking up the key with just the tips of his thumb and forefinger. He pulled Hermione closer to his side and led her to the flight of stairs to their right.

“Was any of that truly necessary?” she asked in exasperation as they rounded the second floor.

Draco shrugged, but didn’t turn around to face her. Instead, he rounded another flight of stairs in silence before saying, “You’re the one that suggested we be a couple getting kinky, Granger. Frankly, I don’t see any other reason for a couple to book into a hotel like this one unless it’s the setting of a particularly thrilling fantasy. Forgive me for coming around to the idea.”

They arrived at the fourth level to the same stench as each floor previous. They navigated the floor covered in soiled clothes and shattered glass before coming to a stop in front of door number eighty-eight. Draco took the key from his pocket and eyed it disdainfully before wiping it thoroughly against his jeans.

“Quite alright there?” piped up Hermione from over his shoulder.

“Everything is fucking filthy here, Granger,” he hissed. “Forgive me if I’m not overly excited to be touching everything.”

He could just about hear her roll her eyes. “Poor little pure-blood,” she taunted. She ripped the key from his hand and jammed it tightly into the rusted door lock. She gave a firm twist and the lock gave a rattling click as it gave way and opened. “There.”

Her smug, irritating smirk was damn near enough to have his cock turning to granite once more. He fought back a groan and decided to himself that there was no possible way that springing upwards of five boners a night around this woman just from her bloody smile and prissy voice could be healthy. Schooling his features to one of total indifference, he pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside, clicking footfalls on the plastic floor giving way to stunned silence as they both took in their new surroundings with slack jaws and wide eyes.

“This room is fucking tiny,” Draco eventually announced, disgusted, as he came to a pause in the middle of the small room. He ran an ungloved finger over the wall and picked up a line of blackened dust. He grimaced to himself and wiped it on his jeans. “And dirty. I have to object, Granger. Get us another room. Now.”

“Of course you’d object.” Hermione breezed past him as though there was nothing untoward about their situation and set her bag down on the weathered desk in the corner. Damn, but she recovered quickly! “I wouldn’t expect anything less. And we can’t – didn’t you hear the man downstairs? This is the only room left. No doubt there’s an entire parade of other couples getting kinky in here tonight.”

He gestured to the one queen bed against the back wall, covered in a scratchy satin coverlet of muddy brown, and quirked a disbelieving brow. “How do you propose we sleep, then?”

She shrugged, the very picture of indifference. He couldn’t help but want to smack the emotions back into her at that moment, even just to gauge her reaction to their situation. “I would presume that we are mature enough to share the bed without resorting to childish name calling or temper tantrums,” she stated, diplomatic as ever. “It’s certainly wide enough to accommodate us, despite your protestations. Remember: it was you who insisted on us posing as a couple. If you hadn’t felt me up, we might have been told there was nothing for us and found something nicer.”

“I am not sharing the bed with you, Granger,” he refuted, his tone final. Such close proximity to her in what would have to be little more than her knickers – as he was fairly certain Granger wouldn’t be carting around extra sets of pyjamas on a whim in her nifty little bag – would surely be his end. “Besides, I’ll thank you to remember that it was your idea in the first place that we play make-believe downstairs. Merlin forbid you give me crap for falling in line with one of your suggestions.”

She shrugged again and perched herself at the end of the bed. Draco could see the fleeting expression of distaste that twisted her features as she tried not to touch too much of the bed at once. “Sleep on the floor, then. See if I care.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and quirked a brow before he stalked his way over and took a seat beside her, his thighs tense as they brushed against hers, but she made no effort to move.

“How do you expect to track him without a wand?” he asked eventually. “Surely that will be a problem come morning.”

“I can cast the tracking spell wandlessly, you know. All I need is a compass.” She rummaged through the little beaded bag she always carried over her shoulder and pulled out a brass disc which she set down on her knee. “See? I speak the incantation, and we follow the arrow. Easy!”

“If you say so, Granger.” He rose from the bed and stretched his arms over his head, letting out a loud yawn as his neck and shoulders cracked back into place. “I need a shower.”

Hermione shot a look at the door to the bathroom, which was covered in a fine layer of dust and mould, and cringed. “If you must.”

He shot her a pointed look. “Running in the snow in the dirtiest part of town is hardly conducive to staying clean, you know.”

“Hmm. I’d wager that using that bathroom isn’t, either.”

“Whatever, Granger.” He waved her off and took a towel from the cabinet by the door. “You’re welcome to join me, if you like.”

He could have sworn he saw her lips quirk into a smile, even if she didn’t look up from the compass still clutched in her hands. “Keep dreaming, Malfoy.”

Draco let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

He closed the door before she could make her reply and leaned back against it, completely uncaring at that moment about the even layer of mildew that covered it. He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face as he felt the sharp heat of arousal course through his system. Every step he took sent a frisson of electricity straight to his cock.

Fuck, he needed a shag. Maybe twelve. Pansy had been a regular go-to fuck-buddy up until two years ago when he’d decided the arrangement needed to stop… maybe she’d be up for it when he got back…

…if only the idea of fucking Pansy now didn’t make him feel as though he was about to vomit.

He quickly stripped his clothes, uncaring of where they landed, and let out a groan of relief when his cock was freed from the tight confines of his jeans.

Draco tore back the shower curtain and stood in the recess, letting the spray of water wash over him. Something must be wrong with all the inner bits, he decided; the hot water was still freezing.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered to himself as he angled himself out of the stream.

He took the (mercifully) fresh bar of soap from its little sill and tore it from the packaging before he proceeded to clean himself as quickly as he could manage. He viciously scrubbed at his skin until it was a pale shade of pink that stood out even more against his pale complexion, and with each stroke down his torso, he brushed his hand against his cock which refused to be ignored any longer.

With an irritated growl, he dropped the bar of soap to the floor and stroked himself to prominence once more with slow, teasing strokes from base to tip. He bit his lip to keep quiet as he quickened the pace, adding a squeeze and a twist, a flick and a pull, and the slightest scrape of nails to heighten his pleasure.

He braced his free arm against the tiled wall and squeezed his eyes shut as he set a fast, furious pace sure to leave him raw. He pictured Granger beneath him, her cheeks flushed from exertion, those damnably gorgeous legs of hers wrapped around his waist as she pulled him in deeper and moaned her pleasure.

He bit his lip and groaned as he came, his seed splashing down onto the floor and down the drain. Draco panted in the aftermath as he leaned his forehead against the tiled wall and closed his eyes, enjoying the replete serenity that always followed a quick, angry wank.

Eventually – for these things couldn’t be rushed, after all – he twisted the taps off and stepped out, dabbing the towel over his body before wrapping it around his waist. Cold water dripped from his still-soaked hair and down his body to the tiled floor as he bent to retrieve his boxers. He grimaced as he pulled them back on, wishing with everything he had in him for his wand and a well-placed cleaning charm. What was the sodding point of being a wizard if you couldn’t wield magic, for crying out loud? Wasn’t taking a wand away almost akin to castration? Draco could barely see through the outrage that had blinded him at that moment!

He flung his towel over his head and began to aggressively dry his hair as he pushed the door open, his feet hitting the gritty, and yet still mercifully warm carpet below.

“Dear Merlin,” came a breathy whisper from the other side of the room.

Draco smirked under the towel and quickly discarded it over a chair by the bathroom door. Hermione Granger was lying in bed in little more than her knickers and her crisp white shirt with her long, gorgeous legs on display. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open as she ran her eyes down, up, then down again over his frame. “Did you say something?”

He pretended not to notice the blush that spread across her cheeks as she quickly turned away. “No,” she muttered as she slipped under the covers. “You must be hearing things.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, though the smirk on his face was sure to let her know otherwise. He sauntered up to the bed and lifted a knee to the edge, brushing against surprisingly (thankfully) fresh, starched sheets. “Budge up, Granger,” he said, pressing one hand gently against her shoulder.

“I thought you were sleeping on the floor,” she observed, her tone cheeky, as she wriggled closer to the edge to allow him room.

“I had a change of heart,” he dryly replied as he eased himself under the blankets. “Besides, I think I saw things moving down there.”

She chuckled. “Such a baby.”

“You want to sleep down there, Granger? Be my guest, if you think it’s so bloody easy!”

“Why would I do that? You said there’s bugs down there.”

In retaliation to her pissing logic, he smirked to himself and pressed the soles of his feet against her calves.

To his everlasting satisfaction, she screeched like a banshee.

“Your feet are freezing,” she shrieked. With a devilish grin, he pressed even closer, bringing her back flush against his front. He outright laughed his victory when she hissed and jumped, nearly falling out of bed. “Merlin, all of you is like ice! I thought you said you showered!”

“No hot water, not that I expected anything less,” he informed her, feeling a hell of a lot more relaxed as he reclined in the bed. “Besides, I owed you.”

“Owed me what?” she asked, puzzled

“For ratting me out in front of Robards,” he told her in his most sulky tone. “Sneaky, Granger, and rude; I’d never sell you down the river like that.”

“You pressed your freezing cold self against me because I dobbed on you?” she asked incredulously. “Merlin, Malfoy, you are a baby, aren’t you?”

“And now we’re even. You’re like a bloody furnace, by the way.”

“I run hot,” she muttered as she folded her pillow under her head. “Always have. If you weren’t here, I’d probably sleep in little more than my knickers.”

Draco groaned and tried to rearrange himself in such a way that the raging hard-on that had suddenly sprung upon him wasn’t terribly obvious. He swore silently to himself; Merlin, what the fuck was wrong with him? Hadn’t he just taken care of that a moment ago? “That was an image I could have done without, Granger.”

He felt her tense. “Why? Can’t bear to imagine the Mudblood naked?”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled forth. “If you bothered to get to know me at all, Granger, you would know that your blood is the absolute last thing on my mind.”

She rolled over to face him, her eyes wary and curious. “Really?”

“Really, Granger. I’d be a fucking moron to still think that way.”

“Yes. Yes, you would. Just as I too would be a moron if I still thought you were the same stuck-up, elitist, snobbish, stick-up-your-arse little ponce you were in Hogwarts.”

“A fucking moron to think I was the same stuck-up, elitist, snobbish, stick-up-my-arse little ponce,” he drawled as he crossed an arm behind his head and rolled onto his side so he could watch her in the grimy moonlight. “You’re an adult, Granger. You’re allowed to swear. Say it with me, darling: fuck.”

“I’d rather not, thank you,” she replied primly. She tucked the blanket up under her arms and folded her hands on her stomach. “Swearing is terribly uncouth.”

“They’re little more than words, and we all know your appreciation for words. Come on, Granger: fuck. Only one syllable; I know you’re normally quite verbose, but this should be easy.”

She was completely silent for a moment, and then – “Why does whether or not I swear matter to you so much?”

He shrugged as best he could and began to count the places on the wall where the painters had missed spots. He had already counted up to sixteen before he felt her start to squirm and replied, “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you profane, Granger.” He inched closer and brushed his nose against her temple, his words flowing from him in a low, sensuous whisper, “I’m intrigued by what you might sound like if you were to just… let go.”

He felt her body shiver and become several degrees warmer. Even without the aid of proper light, he knew she must be blushing up a storm. It was adorable, in its own way, that after everything they had seen and been through together over the course of their two years as partners, that the idea of merely swearing in front of him could produce such a reaction from her.

“Fine.” She drew a deep breath. “Fuckareyouhappynow?”

Draco laughed. “Oh, Granger, surely you can do better than that?”

“Fuck,” she whispered, so lowly he thought he might have imagined it. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Are you happy now?”

He let out a satisfied sigh and rolled onto his back. “Very much so, though I can’t imagine why you’re whispering.” He lowered his voice to match hers and turned his head just slightly so his lips brushed her ear. “I’m the only one around to hear you, and you, my dear, sound incredibly sexy when you swear.”

He felt a shiver run through her.

“Why are you acting like this?” she whispered.

“Like what, sweetness?”

“Like you… like you like me?”

He turned his gaze to her. “Would you prefer I act as though I hate you?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Would you prefer that I was the same arrogant little cockhead I was at Hogwarts?”

“It would be familiar, wouldn’t it? Easier?”

“Familiar, perhaps, but hardly conducive to the level of teamwork we need to demonstrate. If we continued to fight now like we did as children, I’d wager we’d both be dead a thousand times over. I do like you, Granger, and I cannot possibly hate you anymore.”

“I don’t think I hate you anymore, either,” she quietly admitted. “In fact, I think I just might…”

“Just might what, Granger?” he prodded when she trailed off.

“Nothing. Never mind.” She shook her head, her curls tickling over his face as they whipped to and fro, and rolled over so her back was facing him. “Good night, Malfoy,” she bade him, her voice strangely tight. “Do try to get some sleep. We’ve got so much to do tomorrow.”

Fucking hell, she had the worst habit of asking the bloody world of him.

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31

Harry Potter Kinkfest

Entries tagged with kink: ust

HP Kinkfest 2020: Daily Wrap-Up #4

FIC: The Touch of Magic (Draco Malfoy/George Weasley/Harry Potter)

Fic: The Chase

ART: Sex in Greenhouse #2 (Neville/Luna) NC-17

Fic: Future Unchosen

Profile

March 2020

Syndicate

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags