A/N: Love you all! Vices will start updating biweekly a week from today (so sometime next weekend). Contingent will shift to biweekly updates as well (so I'll be updating each story every other week, but I'll be providing weekly updates if that makes sense).
We're halfway there! Fifteen more chapters to go! Well, fourteen and the epilogue. Thank y'all for sticking around :)
Beta love to AlmondMilkTeaDoubleBoba and LeilahMoon – and a major thanks to samhuster.
Love always,
carm
-
Days blended into weeks, and, before she knew it, her calendar said December the first. Her days had been a whirlwind, and her time had been very abysmally split between spending time with Malfoy – purely to do reconnaissance, you see – studying for exams, and trying (and failing) to see her friends.
Needless to say, Hermione was very stressed out.
Between Malfoy and Harry, she'd been overloaded. Malfoy often stole her away in secret for a quick shag here and there – usually at the most inconvenient times, in the most inconvenient places – and Harry had been asking her questions she simply didn't have the answers to.
And, contrary to what she knew she should be doing, she couldn't help but pretend the foreign feelings taking root and growing inside her weren't what she knew them to be. The glow that lit her up when he told her she was his, when he asked her to come for him, when he shot her a look from across the Great Hall that was for her and only her, was a telltale sign.
It was bloody dangerous. And, not only that, but completely irresponsible – not to mention severely misplaced.
Whatever the case, he had become incredibly possessive in recent weeks. Ever since the McLaggen incident – which, she had to give it to Ginny for that horrible, terrible idea that had worked exactly how she'd thought it would – he'd barely let her out of his sight. Their study sessions had grown longer and longer, barely giving her time for her other friends.
She should have seen it coming. She'd always been good at anticipating the impact her actions would have – that was a large part of the reason her, Harry, and Ron had been so successful all this time.
Which was how she found herself sat at their normal table, doing their homework individually. Their tutoring sessions – which she'd always suspected were a way to get closer to her – had turned into quiet study sessions.
He glanced over at her as she worked. He liked to stare openly at her for reasons she couldn't comprehend. Hermione wasn't even sure he knew he was doing it, to be completely honest. Whatever the case, something about it made her feel... secure, even though she knew deep down that feeling safe in Draco Malfoy's presence was not at all wise on her part.
It reminded her of the way Viktor Krum would do the same thing during fourth year. Although, the parallel was different. Viktor, while he had no ill intentions or anything of the sort, still made her shift awkwardly in her seat. Malfoy made her feel like he was analyzing her, like he was keeping watch or something.
Like he was waiting for a greater evil than himself.
She had always been inept at controlling her feelings. It was a weakness of hers, even though she played it off like she didn't have any. Hermione had always been very acutely aware of every weakness she'd ever had.
How could she be perfect otherwise?
Malfoy was still staring at her. She shifted her eyes up to meet his. "What?" she asked.
He hummed, a low sound in the back of his throat. "Nothing," he replied. "Just thinking."
"About what?" she asked him.
A smile fought to steal the corners of his mouth, but he fought it back. If she weren't so damned attuned to him by now, she probably wouldn't have caught it.
"You. What else?" he said casually as if it were the most nonchalant thing in the world for him to admit that to her.
She laughed once, short and humorless. "You're insane, you know that?"
"I've been called much worse," he cocked a brow at her. "But if I'm insane for telling you what's on my mind, then so be it."
"I never said that," Hermione said, flushing. "It's just unnerving to hear you be so... candid," she admitted. "I can't say I'm used to it."
They fell back into comfortable silence.
"It's nice, you know," she told him without taking her eyes from the parchment she was writing on. "I wouldn't be opposed if it happened more often."
The next time she peeked at him, there was just a hint of a smile gracing his face.
-
Sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room reading, she felt the cushion next to her shift and dip under the weight of another person. Holding up a single finger, she let whoever it was next to her know that she'd be with them...
Just after she finished this section.
Looking up finally, her hesitant gaze met Harry's curious one.
Damn. She'd known this was coming, she had just been hoping that it... wouldn't happen. Luckily, Ginny had given her some things to tell him. Maybe they were true, maybe they weren't – but they were solid enough that Harry was more than likely to believe them.
She loved her best friend, but he could be incredibly bloody gullible sometimes, too quick to jump straight to judgement. So she was hoping against hope that this would be something he would buy if she sold it well enough, with enough fervor.
Hermione Granger could be damn well convincing if she wanted to. If she presented a strong enough argument, he wouldn't think twice.
Harry piped up. "You're coming with us for the Christmas break, yeah?"
She regarded him strangely. "Obviously," she said. "Where else would I go? I've spent the holidays with you lot for years." She pushed his shoulder, chuckling. "Yes, Harry, I'm coming with you."
He returned her laugh before suddenly growing quiet. "So..." he started awkwardly. "What's Malfoy getting up to?"
"I don't know," she said with forced nonchalance, turning the page of her book. "He's going back to Wiltshire, but he hasn't said much beyond that," she shrugged. "He mentioned offhandedly that he was excited to be with his mother for the holidays and that's all I know." Hermione felt that she was doing a lot of shrugging lately, but it just... fit. Also, it gave her the air of uncertainty that she was hoping to portray.
"Hm," Harry said thoughtfully. "Interesting."
"Not really," Hermione countered, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. "What's interesting about him wanting to be with his mum for the holidays? Doesn't everyone?"
Immediately catching her mistake, she gaped at him, a flush stinging her face and coasting its way down her neck. "Harry, I–" she started.
"It's fine," he waved her off, but she could sense his slight mood change. "I'm used to it," he shot her a sad smile. "Have to be, don't I?"
They sat in a cool silence that slowly thawed.
After a moment, he opened his mouth – probably to pry for more information that she didn't have and would have to lie about so he wouldn't suspect anything – and was swiftly interrupted by Ron and Ginny entering the common room. She shot Ginny a glance which, bless her, she immediately understood.
"Hey you two," she chimed in, sitting down in the surrounding chair. "Discussing anything interesting?"
Hermione shared a look with Harry. Ron still didn't know, and she didn't want him to. After seeing how angry he'd gotten about the whole Cormac thing – Merlin, she still cringed with embarrassment – he was likely to respond even worse if he found out what she was doing with Malfoy. 'Fake' relationship or not.
She thought of it as more... mutually beneficial. She got to call what she was doing 'intel', and he got regular sex from her. It seemed to work well for the both of them – or maybe that was just her multiple orgasms talking.
And, at this point, it wasn't feeling very fake, which was very stupid of her. It was embarrassing, really. He threw the barest scrap of attention her way and she was on her fucking knees for him – both metaphorically and literally – in the blink of an eye. What did that say about her?
"Not really," Harry piped up.
Hermione cut in before Harry could talk them into a hole. "Just where I'll be for Christmas," she improvised, side-eyeing Harry and sighing when he shot her a similar glance. At least they were still keeping this secret. Her lips lifted in a quick smile, and she brightened as she realized his look mirrored her own.
Ron shot her a strange look. "Aren't you coming home with us?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said.
"I was just making sure she was." Harry caught on and added to her sentence, seamlessly morphing it into an everyday conversation – the way it usually was.
"Oh. Good," Ron said. "We'd miss you if you didn't, you know." He was earnest as he looked at her, and she could sense something behind his words that he wasn't saying.
Hermione shot him a wry smile. She doubted he'd think that if he knew what he wasn't being told. Of course, the anger would stay through all stages – he'd be angry that he'd been left out, and then angry at Harry for not saying anything, angry at her for not only having had the idea but actually executing it, and, finally, angry with Malfoy for doing whatever he was doing to her.
No, she thought, it would most definitely not be pretty.
Ginny shot her a look. "So," she said, "get any interesting Christmas gifts lately?"
Hermione froze. "No," she said cautiously. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason," she replied airily, "just curious." She sat back in her chair.
Ron spoke up as he watched the conversation in front of him unfold. "Why does it feel like I'm missing something?" he asked suspiciously.
"Ronald, you're always missing something," Ginny immediately replied with a roll of her eyes. "I'm just wondering if our dear Hermione's idea of an interesting Christmas gift has finally expanded beyond Hogwarts, A History," she quipped, smirking.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the lame cover story. But, if there was one thing Ron wouldn't question, it was her and books.
"Oh," Ron replied lamely, ripping off a hangnail absently before wincing and swearing at the pain. He brought his finger into his mouth to suck off the blood that pooled as a result.
"That hurt Ron?" Harry asked, teasing.
"Bloody hell, I don't know why I keep doing that," he replied.
She shared another quick look with Ginny while the boys laughed with each other. Hermione instinctually took that as 'we need to figure out a Christmas present for Malfoy,' and fuck, she was right. She had no idea what to get him, and it was mere days until they left. She obviously couldn't ask Malfoy himself, and Harry would be absolutely no use if she were to ask him for advice. No, he would be entirely clueless – not to mention his suspicion would grow, even though she was positive she could pass it off as part of their plan.
No, she mused, paling slightly as she thought. She'd need to consult someone she thought she'd never talk to.
-
Hermione nervously sat down next to Theodore Nott in the library.
He didn't react to her entrance or look up at her as he said nonchalantly, "I was wondering when I'd be seeing you around, Granger."
She stared at him, astounded. "Really?" she asked. "Why?"
Theo scoffed, eyeing her as he leaned back in his chair and putting down his quill. "Granger, sweetie, I'm no you, but it's the beginning of December, correct?"
"Yes..." Hermione replied slowly.
"And you and Draco are... whatever you are, yes?" he prodded, shooting her a look.
"I... suppose, yeah," she shrugged, ignoring the slight flush that rose to her cheeks.
Obviously it wasn't like that, but it wasn't like she was going to tell his best friend. She'd go along with whatever he suggested and let him lead the conversation.
"Okay," Hermione conceded, "I have no idea what I'm supposed to get Mal-Draco for Christmas. And I needed to figure it out yesterday."
Theo grinned maniacally, looking at her. "Oh, you really are smart. You've come to the right place, Granger."
She got comfortable in her chair, leaning back as she met his eyes. "We don't... talk much. I mean, we do, but," she chewed her lip. "I don't know, it's weird." Hermione thought out loud. "I don't know the first thing about him. I don't even know his favorite color, for Godric's sake." Her exasperation was starting to shine through.
"Relax, Granger," Theo said, rolling his eyes. "As it happens, I do have some ideas that I think he would very much appreciate."
"Why do I feel like I don't like where you're going with this?" Hermione said, eyeing him warily.
"Because I'm guessing you are smart and you know exactly where I'm going with this." Theodore Nott had the most evil-genius grin Hermione had ever seen. If he tried, she was entirely certain he could achieve total world domination without thinking twice.
"Draco is a simple man. He likes sex in any capacity. So if you offered him something you haven't done yet, I think it would be a very gratifying present for the both of you," he smirked.
"Nott!" she chastised, choosing to ignore his insinuation.
"Or lingerie. You can't go wrong with some new lingerie," he tacked on as an afterthought. "It would be a nice gift for the both of you, wouldn't you agree?"
She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I knew this was a bad idea," she muttered. Bracing her hands on the edge of the table, she started to push her chair back.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist. Hermione looked at him in shock, wide-eyed. "Sorry," he said, retracting his hand. "I just... wait," he sighed. "I mean, he loves Quidditch. You could get him anything Quidditch-related and he'd love it."
Thinking about it, she'd already considered the idea. She couldn't stand the bloody sport, but, if she could find something, it could work. Simple, yet thoughtful.
Theo visibly hesitated, looking around before leaning in and lowering his voice. She reacted in kind, curiosity piqued as she wondered what he had to tell her.
The words came out rushed. "Draco can sometimes have... a hard time working through what he's feeling. I mean, most blokes struggle with their emotions anyway, but I think it's always been a struggle for him. Maybe if you can think of something to help with that..." he leaned away, eyes looking around again.
She nodded, an idea slowly forming in her head, and Hermione liked the direction it was going.
"I can work with that." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Nott, you've been... surprisingly helpful."
At the last minute, he piped up at her retreating figure. "His favorite color is blue by the way."
-
The second Snape posed a question, her hand shot into the air.
She was so fucking predictable. Always the first to have her hand in the air, always the first to try to beat out everyone else.
Always needing to outdo everyone else, including him. Especially him.
Sometimes, he genuinely thought she did it to spite him. Because of course she would, especially now. He noticed how her eyes flitted over to him in between questions – there was no mistaking the smug tilt of her mouth when her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, the flush to her cheeks, the way her eyes danced.
Yes, she did it to spite him. To prove him wrong. To prove that she was better than him.
Well he could outdo her in his sleep. He often didn't care to. He already knew he was far superior. His future was set in stone.
The more she spoke, the angrier he got. The way her voice danced between the particles in the air, traveling through space and time to sink into his ear, ingraining itself into his brain. He was certain he'd never forget the sound of Granger's voice – he'd heard too much of it and it was infuriating. The only time he could stand it was when he had her underneath him, when she was a sweating, writhing mess who only knew one word, and that word was, 'Please.'
Draco shivered.
A fire rose inside him, a need to act on the swell that threatened to topple him, scorch him from the inside out.
The next time Snape asked a question, his hand beat hers into the air.
Obviously he got it right. Of course he did.
Class continued like that, their hands reaching higher at breakneck speeds, each desperate to outdo the other. The tension was building, rising, searching for a crescendo, a climax that it couldn't find. It kept growing.
He was going to give it one.
It was fucking palpable. Draco was sure he was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he could feel the heat in the room swell with the exertion.
Unable to tell if it were in his head – seeing as she looked completely composed, yet undeniably irritated – he pressed on, spurred by the indignant flashes that flitted across her face. He started living for it, dying to see her get angry at him.
After all, their angry sex had been the best to date.
As soon as class ended, she was the first one out of the room. He caught up to her, latching onto her wrist and yanking her roughly into the nearest abandoned classroom.
It was lucky he had so much random knowledge of which classrooms would be empty at what times. He happened to know that this particular one would be empty for the foreseeable future.
Wasting no time, he flipped up her skirt, yanked her knickers to the side, and found her soaked.
"Fuck," he bit out on a breath. "I knew that shit got you worked up," he chucked against her skin. "Why can't you just admit that I'm always right?"
Granger gasped as he thrust into her harshly, and it tapered off into a soft moan that set his veins alight.
"Because you're not," she replied snarkily.
"Yes, I am," he stuttered his thrusts on purpose, trying to tease her. If he denied her what she wanted, she'd be more likely to acquiesce. Although it typically took awhile – she was one stubborn witch.
"No," she replied, "you're not."
He stopped his thrusts entirely, reaching one hand down in between them to tease her clit. "No?" he asked. "You're really gonna stand by that answer right now?"
Her hips canted, jumping at his touch. "Yes," she looked up at him definitely. "I am."
Then Granger took matters into her own hands. She braced herself on her elbows, using force from the way he had her laid out on the desk, and started fucking onto him, using him.
He couldn't help it. His eyes darkened at the sight of her using him for her pleasure. His head dropped back and the moan that left him was a sound that even he hadn't heard before. "Fuck," he said again.
Argument forgotten, he took back the control, starting to snap his hips again, leaning down so he was pressed against her. "You feel incredible," he murmured into her neck as he fucked her. "Always so wet for me, yeah?"
She nodded, whimpering for him, grabbing the sides of his face and drawing him in for a deep, languid kiss. He swallowed another of her gasps as his lips met hers, and he groaned against her lips at the feel of her encapsulating him.
Everywhere. She was everywhere. All he could feel was the way she felt wrapped around him, all he could smell was her shampoo – vanilla and jasmine – as it wedged its way in, all he could see was the brown of her eyes and the bronze of her curls.
Completely inescapable – not that he was trying to escape her. He had no desire to be anywhere but here; no desire to be apart from her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, encasing him as he slowly pushed in and out of her at a punishing pace.
His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, green and silver tie forgotten on the floor. One day, he was going to tie her up with that, mark his territory with his colors. To see her writhing against the soft fabric of the Slytherin tie, the green offsetting the brown of her eyes... it would be exhilarating.
She brought him back as she fluttered and clenched around him, signaling to him that she was close. He'd be damned if he didn't know her body better than she did by this point.
"You wanna come for me?" he asked her, torturously slowing down his pace just to edge her more. It was fun to draw out her orgasm.
The higher she climbed, the harder she fell when she plummeted over the edge that he made so perfectly just for her.
"Yes," she begged, staring up at his eyes and tightening her legs around his hips. He kept his slow pace. "Please."
"Hmm, you do ask so nicely. What do you think? Do you think you deserve it?" He dipped low to kiss the corner of her open mouth. He removed her legs from around his waist and gripped the inside of her thighs and pushed down.
Fuck, he loved seeing her spread open for him. She looked positively delectable.
"Only if you think I do," she replied, her head dropping back in pleasure as he steadily pumped in and out of her.
He chuckled down at her. "A very Slytherin answer. You're learning," he said, purposely keeping his thrusts shallow.
Bringing her head back up to meet his eyes from under her thick lashes, "I always was at the top of our year," she teased.
Draco delivered a quick slap to her clit and she jolted, her hips canting up and taking him deeper. They both groaned. "You're such a swot."
"But here you are, fucking me anyway," she replied, lifting her hips up again. "What do you have to say about that, Malfoy?" Granger tilted her head, raising a defiant brow as she continued to rock against him.
"I say," he panted, nearing his own edge, "that if you want to come, you should shut the fuck up." His hand rose up to wrap around her throat, squeezing the carotid arteries on the sides of her neck.
Her eyes fluttered, and her lips parted on another gasp. He loved the sounds he was able to draw from her – him, only him, and no one else.
She nodded once, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as he felt her start to tighten around him again. "There," she gasped. "Please, right fucking there, please," she begged.
Gritting his teeth and fighting off his own impending pleasure, he kept doing exactly what he was doing, wanting her to come before he did – it was only fair, after all.
His grip tightened around her throat, and her hand reached up to latch on tightly to his wrist. She would yank at it if she needed him to let go; he knew that she was fine. She loved this, thrived off of the primal, raw sex they had. It ws fucking euphoric every damn time. He'd never had such a responsive partner, and he didn't want to think too closely about what it would mean.
"Come on, Granger, come on my cock. You know I love to feel you," he spurred her on, drawing her closer to orgasm. His free arm came down to cage her in, so their noses were inches away. Staring down into her wide, chocolate eyes and feeling her hot breath as it left her mouth, he only had one word for her.
"Come." It was a command, and she heeded it immediately. There was an odd feeling that swelled inside of him, cresting along with his own orgasm. It faded along with his high, and it was replaced with an inescapable, irrevocable realization.
No one knew her like he did.
-
Draco pushed open the door and quietly walked into the Slytherin common room, hoping no one would be there at this late hour. He knew he looked completely and utterly disheveled – sex with Granger never failed to wear him out.
That woman was a fucking minx, and more demanding between the sheets than anyone he'd ever known, but he wouldn't be caught dead complaining about it.
It worked well for him – he got regular, unreal sex, and she was eating right out of the palm of his hand. He caught her extra glances, the way she met his eyes when she came and then shied away when she realized what she'd done.
It was always so obvious once you looked at the little things. He wondered what she saw when she gave him the same scrutiny.
"Late night, Malfoy?" a voice came from the darkness, startling him. He narrowed his eyes into the void, trying to make out who it was.
Once he had a guess as to who it might be, he asked, "Montague?"
"Mhm," he hummed back. "What were you doing out so late?" he asked again. Something about the lilt to his tone set Draco's teeth on edge.
Whatever the case, he resolved to give a very Slytherin, noncommittal answer. "No later than usual," he replied. "Exams, you know," he said, waving it off as studying, not wanting to give any more details than he needed to.
Montague emitted a low chuckle. "You expect me to believe that?" he asked.
Draco bristled immediately and tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. "I hope you know that I don't care what you choose to believe," he said with an eyebrow raised, even though he didn't know if it were visible.
"You will," he replied, far more darkly than fit the tone of conversation.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he excused himself from the room.
-
They sat at their normal table in the library, staring at each other awkwardly. He unceremoniously shoved a small, wrapped box in her direction before looking away.
She could see him watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting anxiously for her reaction. Biting away a secret smile, she realized that Theo was right – he was shit at dealing with his emotions.
Her gift for him was perfect. She had a feeling he'd hate it, but it would be incredibly beneficial if he tried to use it properly. If he decided to, it would probably work wonders for his deplorable emotional health.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought. She peeled back the wrapping and opened the box to reveal a gold necklace nestled into the black velvet inside. It had a snake running up the back of the chain and wrapped around the clasp – typical. She ran her fingers around the chain, admiring how dainty it was.
At the center of the necklace sat a small, glittering sapphire. Her breath caught as she lightly brushed her fingers over it, and they tingled at the contact. She looked up at him curiously.
"Protective magic," he said, answering the obvious unspoken question in her eyes. "Of a kind."
Hermione's voice was hushed as he looked at him earnestly. "It's stunning. Thank you," she said with a smile.
"Blue's my favorite color on you," he said under his breath. It was so quiet, she almost didn't catch it.
Theo's words rang in her mind before fading away as quickly as they'd come. There was no way that she was why. Completely and totally impossible. She shook her head to clear the thought.
He rose from his seat, coming behind her to clasp it behind her neck. Fingers brushing around the curve of her neck sensually, she shivered at the chill that shot through her. She hoped he didn't notice it – she reacted to him far too easily. His voice was hot against the shell of her ear as he said, "It's so you don't forget who you belong to while you're away from me."
An infuriated blush rose to her cheeks as he sat back down. "That's what this is? A bloody dog collar?" she asked harshly with narrowed eyes as she glared at him. She reached up behind her neck to remove it and give it back to him, but his voice stilled her.
It was calm, quiet, but she could hear the underlying warning in it. "Don't you dare."
Fingers slowly dropping away from the clasp, her hands came to rest in her lap.
A strange silence ensued before she found it fit to pull out her own gift for him. Pulling out the book, she laid it on the table, running her finger up and down the covered spine – uncertain, reconsidering.
"What is it?" he asked. Curious.
Before she could take it back, she pushed it hurriedly across the table over to him. "Here," she muttered.
Unwrapping it, he eyed it warily. "What is it?" he repeated.
"It's..." should she tell him? He'd probably be angry with her. "It's a journal," she started. "You write into it – there are prompts, you see – and you'll get a response. Someone will read what you're writing and give their opinion on what you should do, or how you should handle what you feel." She shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't really expect you to use it, I just– thought it might be nice to have some kind of an outlet when you need to vent or something."
He sat quietly, running his fingers over the dark green cover. She'd hoped that making it green would blend in better with his things, and that it wouldn't raise any questions.
"So– if you hate it, that's really fine, I had a hard time figuring out what to get you anyway, so you can just let me know and I'll figure something else out–" she said, cheeks heating furiously, as she reached for it.
His hand wrapped around her wrist, stilling it. "No," he said with a wry smile. "It's great."
The relief that thrummed in her veins had her sitting back in her chair with a rushed breath.
Why was she so desperate for approval she knew damn well she shouldn't be seeking?