#dramionesmut

I have no idea why I searched for Dramione smut today, or anything Dramione related, but I did and I found the most SALACIOUS and INCREDIBLY HILARIOUS smut fic. Do yourself a favor and read it. Art by @artfleureia

“Hermione Granger and the Quest for the Perfect Penis” by ChaosAndCrumpets on Archive of Our Own

All chapters of Unity Pairing and Bed Sharing have been posted! Cover art credit to my amazing sister @Burgandy_Splashed on Instagram.

Rated: E (for smut)

Ship: Dramione

Genre: Romance, Mystery

Words: 85k

Summary:

Now that the war is over Hermione just wants life to go back to normal. She has goals to accomplish after all. She has returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year to sit for her NEWTs and get her life back. But everything is different now. Without Harry and Ron by her side, the men of Hogwarts have apparently decided to take notice of her. Also, new unity initiatives are forcing her to work with the endlessly tiresome Draco Malfoy. But oddly, she finds herself not entirely hating spending time with him. But the strangest change of all comes when she's magically delivered to his bed one night. Now she has to balance taking all NEWT level classes, a full schedule of unity activities and solving the mystery of what’s brought her to her enemy’s bed at the stroke of midnight.

Chapter 1

CW: NSFW/18+

Now, he could see their reflections in the mirror. He could see Granger’s face was flushed a lovely shade of pink. She looked beautiful.

He watched her eyes flutter shut.

“No,” Draco said, resuming his hand’s movement over her knickers. “I want you to watch.”

Her eyes snapped open, finding his already on hers.

Her grip on his neck tightened as he continued pumping his fingers in and out. He alternated the pressure of his signet ring against her.

“I’m going – I think I may –” she stuttered, shutting her eyes.

Rating: E

Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 6097

Summary: The night before their wedding, after their rehearsal dinner, Hermione is grateful to receive a break from the rushed schedules and business of the weekend. Hanging out with their friends and getting sloshed is what she has in mind in terms of relaxing. Draco, though, has other plans. NSFW PWP 18+ Content

Part 3 of The Last Time

"I don't want anyone else. I'll never want anyone else. I want you. I want… us." His breath passed over her lips and she felt a shiver run through her. "Please, Hermione… Don't say this is the last time."

Smutty drabble courtesy of the awesome @scdramione

"I want to kiss every inch of you, from your toes, down to your thighs. Then I'll bite them until you squeal."

Hermione moaned, her breath coming fast.

"Then I want to lick your cunt; back and forth, left to right," Draco rasped.

"Fuck. I want to ride your face," she begged breathlessly.

"Oh no, Granger, if you ride my face you won't be able to listen to me tell you how much I need to fuck your tight little pussy."

"Oh...oh Draco...."

Here’s my work for the Pumpkin Spice Fic Fest! I can’t believe the first thing I wrote was a smutty one-shot!

You’ll probably see me sharing things through out the end of the year that I’m planning. I technically made this aesthetic for Frumpologist but my subconscious is apparently self serving. Leave your thoughts if you have any. (Also, I’d add a cut but I don’t know how.)

Prologue:

November 2nd, 2012

Godric’s Hollow

Poised on a roof across from the quaint, brick two story, he lifted the cigarette to his lips. Balancing it while he flipped the lighter closed, tucking it into his pocket, he watched the boy carefully. He wasn’t home alone. From what he’d witnessed over the last two days, he was rarely left alone. Perhaps his aunt feared he would kill himself so he could join his parents, the man wasn’t sure.

It was how he would have felt if he’d watched his parents systematically gunned down in the center of London after a school event. Oh, he knew all about the boy’s life, of how he had lived in this house for the last fifteen years, of how his father was an established police officer who kept digging into the criminal underground despite being warned of what would happen.

One might say the married couple earned what they got, but he wasn’t sure they were the sort who earned to be filled full of holes. Exhaling smoke, he glanced down at the black, zippered bag. It was nestled in the snow, a heavy weight against his boot. It would have only taken a moment to pull the rifle from it, to move into position, and only a breath to pull the trigger that he was so used to.

Flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette, he shook his head. Riddle was a smart man, and while his followers weren’t the brightest, he sincerely doubted this boy had gotten a good look at the gunman.

Still, a hit was a hit, and if it ever got out he had even thought of faking results, the outcome would be disastrous. Yet here he stood, surely the first Malfoy in a century to waver in the face of a job.

Grimacing, he knocked the toe of his boot against the bricks, the snow crunching beneath him. Maybe the boy wasn’t much younger than him, but he’d seen the papers. Fuck, the entire city had published an article over it.

Death Eater Task Force Lead James Potter, and wife, Lily Potter slain.

Or the one that caught his attention in the first place: Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived.

From birth, from a young age Malfoy had known what his life would be spent doing. Murder for hire, carrying out hits for high profile targets.

And this child didn’t compare to those. Sighing, and smashing the cigarette below his boot, he hauled the bag over his shoulder. “This will be a hell of a cover up.” He muttered to himself, making his way to the ladder.

And Draco Malfoy knew Tom Riddle would have his head if he ever discovered what he had done.

Chapter One:

December 21st, 2017

The Shrieking Shack

Stricken with the thought of how she ought to be home for the holiday, Hermione rested against the bar. The bartender set a glass in front of her, nodding her way before working his way down the counter.

She smirked as Daphne made her way around the dance floor. The blonde was on her second partner, and as a tanned arm slid around her waist, she spun into the arms of her third. Her curls were losing volume, sticking to her forehead from beads of sweat.

“Can I get a water as well?” Hermione asked the bartender. He was already a few customers in. “Whenever you can is fine.” Turning her gaze back to the room around her, Hermione lifted the drink to her lips.

When she’d told her parents she was leaving the country for the holiday, she expected more of a fight. Perhaps her mother was still furious, always worrying about the crime of anywhere her daughter went, but her father agreed with a smile.

Only on her second drink of the night, she hadn’t drummed up the confidence to make her way into the center of the room like her friend. Only Daphne knew the ins and outs of Paris, and all that came with it. Hermione had little doubt her friend didn’t know everyone in the room already. As Daphne crooked her finger toward her, Hermione turned to face the counter.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the bartender said, handing her a still sealed water bottle while looking over her shoulder. “What can I get for you?”

She arched an eyebrow at the tremble in his voice until she glanced over her shoulder. This ‘Malfoy’ was a tall man dressed in black, rolling up his sleeves. Everything about him spoke of warning signs - the leather gloves he plucked from his hands, the handle of a knife that was sticking out from his waistband, and the gun holster peeking out from beneath the leather jacket. His eyes flicked toward her, and she only tilted her head to the side before looking to her drink once more.

“Whiskey.” He rasped, taking the seat beside her. He raked his fingers through disheveled blond hair, snow melting on the light stands, the water splashing onto his jacket. “What’s your name?”

British, she thought. The accent was undeniable, and the raspiness of his voice too alluring for her own good.

Hermione glanced over, her eyebrows drawing together. “Me?” At his nod, she shrugged. “Hermione Granger.” She didn’t hold her hand out like her father had taught her, nor did she want.

“Draco Malfoy,” he introduced, and once the bartender had slid him a glass of booze, he’d downed it in one swallow.

Her eyes widened. “I heard.” She murmured, picking up her drink. It was a fruity drink, one that barely had any alcohol in it. Unlike his, which he’d drank straight. “Nice to meet you, I suppose.”

He smirked. “If you were going to order a drink like that, why didn’t you save your money and buy a juice box?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” Hermione snapped, reaching over to take his glass. Not dwelling on the fact of how his service was so much faster than hers, she tipped the freshly filled glass to her lips, and mimicked his earlier movement. Satisfied with the way his brows shot into his hairline, she slammed it down in front of him. “I happen to like the taste of mine.” She quipped.

“Forgive me.” He told her, and she muttered she’d prefer not to. “Have you ever been here before?”

“I’m here on holiday. My friend lives in the city.” With her answers so curt, she wasn’t sure he would reply.

He nodded, pacing himself with this drink. “University?”

“Yes. What do you do?” Hermione asked, merely for small talk. Though she wasn’t sure how she’d stumbled into this conversation. Maybe she should have let Daphne drag her around the dance floor.

He laughed, a low, guttural sound under his breath. “Family business.” Malfoy answered, his voice hard. “Unsavory really.”

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione looked over at him. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not particularly.”

“It’s impolite to bring up subjects you wouldn’t want to talk about.” Hermione muttered, uncapping her water bottle.

Draco snorted. “I’m not polite, princess.” A shiver ran down her spine. “Do you have a boyfriend at home then?”

Was this happening? Hermione glanced up, her lips parting. “No, I don’t. Planning to proposition me?”

He shrugged. “If you’re interested.”

She peered over her shoulder. Daphne was huddled in a dark corner with the man she’d danced with earlier - or one of them -, and he was snogging her. With the way it looked, Hermione didn’t think she’d be getting her friend back anytime soon. “Is this normally how you get women? Pick them up in a bar?”

“I usually don’t do this at all.” He said, casting a look over his shoulder. “But if you want to know, I’ve had a shit night for something I did five years ago, and I want to blow off some steam.”

Hermione swallowed roughly. “A one night stand?”

“No strings attached,” he agreed, setting the glass down, “but there is one thing.”

Fearing he would say he had a weird fetish, Hermione ventured, “What?”

He smiled. “I won’t be gentle, Hermione.”

She was off the stool, and letting him lead her away before she took the time to think about it. She wouldn’t have gone home with him, she told herself. Not with a stranger that looked like he would burn her house down for kicks, but the bathroom of a sleazy dive bar hadn't been what she expected either.

“Are you going to complain?” Malfoy rasped, locking the door behind them, and pushing her to the door. His hands were heavy on her hips, inching her ratty shirt up.

She shook her head, a grin crossing her face as she gripped his shoulders. His lips met her harshly, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips as he picked her up. Slamming her to the wall, his hands slid up the outside of her thighs, wrapping them around his waist. Breathless gasps escaping her, Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair.

Locking her ankles, she urged him closer to her, sliding her hands beneath his shirt to feel his hot skin. “Fuck,” she whispered, tugging his hair roughly.

His hips were pressed to hers, his cock hard in his trousers as she rubbed herself against him. “Fucking God,” he groaned, sliding his palms up her stomach. “Good girl.” He murmured when she tore her shirt over her head.

She whimpered when he dropped his head, skimming his lips down the column of her neck. “Draco.” He bit down where her neck met her shoulder, and her head banged against the door as it fell back.

And then he dipped even lower, his tongue darting out to trace where her breasts were nearly spilling from lace cups. Clinging to him as she gasped, she sighed in relief when he reached behind her to unsnap her bra.