Title: Forbidden

Rating: NC-17

Genre: Romance/Smut

Pairing: Hermione/ Draco

Summary: Response to scars challenge on tainted, Hermione is the mistress of Draco Malfoy.

A/N: This is dedicated to scar, love you girl! Visit GBM or Tainted psyche (see my personal bio page for url’s to other Harry Potter fiction by heaps of great authors)

 

Ok, so this is the first part of the fic, I’m only posting this, and the next part will finish it. That’s all it will be, so don’t ask for more.

 

Thanks a bunch to scar for all the help and positive feedback, and also, thanks for coming up with the title. You rule.

 

 

 

She owned respect born of fear as the most powerful witch alive. If not in her own right, then certainly by association.

The best friend of Harry Potter.

The foremost protégé of Severus Snape.

But the ultimate scandal attached to the name of Hermione Granger brought with it, also, her greatest power.

She was Draco Malfoy’s mistress.

 

**

 

It had been a long and tiring day. Hermione never stayed in the Hogwarts grounds where she worked as potions master. She made her way out of the castle and into the village of Hogsmead toward the apartment she shared with her husband, Harry. She was completely exhausted, once upon a time, Hermione enjoyed her work, she used to thrive on it, being able to teach young and hungry minds is what she loved to do best. But things change. Now all work did for her was tire her. Students were extremely exhausting brats.

 

It used to thrill and excite her, to be able to feed those hungry minds with information and things that would certainly come useful to them their whole lives. However, they were all ungrateful little brats, and Hermione was sick of it. She did not have the passion for teaching she used to have.

 

The only thing that excited her now was Draco Malfoy.

 

She never thought a thing like that would ever cross her mind. Oh how wrong she was. Not only were she best friends with Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, she was also his wife. Well that used to excite her too. Once upon a time.

 

The fact that she was having a thrilling, hot and steaming affair with her worst enemy, one of Voldemort’s most trusted death eaters was the only thing that actually kept her alive, and thriving.

 

It wasn’t that she was in love with him. No. he had his own wife; the daughter of the new minister of magic. He was well in there.

 

Who could love a cold, evil, manipulative death eater?

 

No, it certainly wasn’t love.

 

It was sex.

 

And it was amazing.

 

She’s never experienced anything like it before him, and she doubted she ever would again after him. Especially not with Harry, for he was a dull lover. All sex consisted of with him was the horizontal style, completely normal, never anything different, no experiments, no sex toys. Plain old simply, boring sex.

 

Maybe that single reason is what drove her to Malfoy. He was different. He was hot. He knew how to turn her on like Harry never would.

 

The way he could drive her to the edge, over and over. She could never tire of it.

 

The fact that they hated each other, in every way possible, made their forbidden passion all the more tempting. Each thrust, depicting their hate for each other, sending them both over the edge again and again.

 

Harry had no clue.

 

Not that he was ever home anyway. Being the most famous professional Quidditch player in the world, and the most highly paid and sought after. He was never home, he was always on tour.

 

No doubt screwing every chick he could get his hands on.

 

So tonight, when she arrived home, she would have her usual shower, then, dress herself appropriately, and apparate to Malfoy’s private apartment. No one except her knew about it, for she was the sole reason he had purchased it. If anyone ever found out about their little rendezvous’, they would both come crashing down.

 

So, their nightly meetings were amongst the deepest of secrets, held by each of them.

 

**

 

Ascending the steps to the home she shared with Harry, Hermione got out her key and let herself in. Harry was not home; he was out of the country, as usual.

 

She followed her usual routine, hanging her coat up on the hanger, then making her way into the kitchen for a glass of butterbeer. The, after finishing her butterbeer, she made her way into her room, undressing and setting out the new outfit she had bought to surprise Malfoy with on her bed.

 

She then made her way into the bathroom, undressing, and, normally, she would have a shower, but tonight, she needed to relax, so she decided that a long hot spa bath was exactly what she needed.

 

When the tub had filled, Hermione stepped into it, allowing herself to be overwhelmed with the bubbles and luscious scents.

 

An hour or so later, she was still relaxing in the clouds of bubbles and steam, not noticing the time fl by, her eyes shut lightly, a glass of champagne in her one hand, and a bowl of strawberries and cream sitting just on the side of the tub.

 

Malfoy completely forgotten.

 

But, not for long.

 

At that moment, unnoticed by Hermione, a small ‘pop’ sounded from her bedroom.

 

**

 

She was half an hour late. Granger was never late for their little meetings. She was always on time, ready, and eager.

 

‘What on Earth was keeping her?’

 

Perhaps Potter had found out and lost his temper and lashed out at her? Perhaps she just forgot.

 

But he found it impossible that Hermione could forget, after all, she was always so eager to get things going.

 

Either way, he needed a fix, and he didn’t need it from just anyone. He needed the feelings only she could give him. The lust, the heat, the forbidden passion. And damn, he was going to get it!

 

With a small ‘pop’ he apparated into Hermione’s bedroom. Taking a look at the neatly made bed and the red lacey set of lingerie set out on the bed, ready for wearing.

 

He smirked to himself, picturing her beautiful body in that beautiful set.

 

Oh how he would love to tear off every sexy piece of underwear she wore with his bare teeth. His features curved into a huge grin as he reminisced the various times and places he had done her, over and over.

 

This one time, they were at a charity function, he had taken his dumb arse bimbo of a wife, and she had arrived with Potthead. They didn’t seem too happy, like they had just had an argument.

 

The memory of them up against that bathroom wall, quick and hard, was enough to make him go hard all over again.

 

Shaking himself from his reverie, and desperately needing some action, he spotted the bathroom door open, steam pouring out, and made his way over to it.

 

Seeing her there, in complete bliss and relaxation, her eyes shut, and a glass of wine in the tips of her hand, brought him if possible, even more delight.

 

He feverishly undressed himself, careful to make sure she hadn’t noticed he was there, he then summoned himself a glass of champagne also, and grabbed a strawberry, dipping it into the cream and drawing circles with it over Granger’s beautiful lips.

 

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, as a shocked look made its way onto her face, she had sat upright so fast, that she had allowed her glass to fall to the floor and smash into pieces.

 

“You weren’t expecting me?” Draco asked, mocking innocence.

 

Hermione scowled, muttering “repairo” under her breath, as her glass mended itself, and shot straight back up into her hand. She took a sip of the newly appeared liquid, and looked at him long and hard before asking:

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here Malfoy? What if Harry were here and he had caught you?”

 

Malfoy simply shrugged and took a sip of his own champagne; “Potter would never realize what we were doing even if I fucked you right in front of him!”

 

He then took Hermione’s glass and set it down with his, next to the strawberries and cream. He was unable to keep looking at her delicious form without jumping her.

 

He looked into her chocolate brown eyes and she stared right back into his cold gray ones, the intensity unnerving.

 

Then, without notice, he closed the distance between them and within seconds, his mouth was on hers, in a hot and passionate kiss.

 

She opened her mouth and allowed his tongue access to duel with her own. The willingness and eagerness shared between them, threatening to overtake their senses.

 

Her mouth, hot and sensuous on his, her breasts pressed up against him, nipples hard and heated, against his bare chest. He moved even closer to her, if that was even possible, moving on top of her, pressing her hard against the wall of the tub. He pressed himself hard onto her, his long, hard length throbbing against her stomach.

 

“Malfoy…” he heard her moan, barely audible, like a plead, “Oh God, I need you, now!”

 

the fact that what they were doing was so wrong, naughty and dirty only seemed to have made them both a lot hotter and more feverish toward one another. It only served to make their passion all the hotter.

 

“Mmmm Hmm” he moaned into her neck, suckling hard on her neck, and leaving hot bruises all over, while at the same time, eliciting hot and flustered moans and shivers from her.

 

He positioned himself above her, then, withdrew from suckling her to look into her eyes, silently asking her if she was ready for it.

 

She didn’t need asking twice.

 

Her hand made its way to his long and throbbing length, guiding him to her entrance and moaning explicit and incomprehensible things about God and himself.

 

As soon as he felt his tip touch her entrance, she let out a soft sigh, and grabbed a hold of the edges of the tub, readying herself for the ride. He did the same, grabbing the edges of the tub above her own hands, and slowly pushed himself into her, allowing himself to sink into her as much as possible.

 

The look of pleasure on Hermione’s face would have made him come right then and there, had he not been a disciplined and highly experienced lover. Her eyes were closed and her head was lulled back, resting against the tub, a smile, clearly portraying the pleasure he was giving her, playing on her soft and full lips.

 

Without any hesitation what so ever, Draco began to thrust himself in and out of her. Starting off sensually and slowly, kissing his way down her neck, and suckling a pathway to her full and hard nipples, eliciting a musky moan of pleasure with each movement.

 

**

 

With every thrust made into her, and with every sensation running through her body as he moved in and out of her, with so much speed, agility, and strength, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck she was doing with Harry.

 

He could never make her feel this way, give her this much pleasure and satisfaction. He could never make her feel this naughty, and hot.

 

When she felt Malfoy’s hot breath on her nipple, she gave a highly involuntary shiver, and found herself, not only moving in rhythm with his own body, but also pushing her breasts deeper into his mouth. She wanted more. Much much more.

 

Draco did not hesitate to oblige. He began thrusting harder and faster, eventually abandoning his tasty quest of her body. His face was etched in pure concentration.

 

Cold gray eyes bore into chocolate brown ones, and Hermione felt every wave of tension building up inside her, layer on layer, ready and willing to explode.

 

Panting, she moved faster and faster along with him, matching every stroke for stroke, her climax building within her, until she reached the ultimate peak, and could no longer hold it in, allowing herself to explode, her walls contracting around his hard length, giving him back the ultimate pleasure, and within seconds, he too reached his climax, and she felt him explode inside her. A feeling of great satisfaction washed over her, as she allowed their bodies to rest there on top of each other. Enjoying the feel of one another, and the after effects of what their little pleasure tours did for them.

 

**

 

Hermione hadn’t had anything to eat since she had gotten home from work, and after what she had just experienced, she was starving, all the energy put into her lovemaking was one thing, now she wanted it back, so she could do it all over again.

 

She was standing in the kitchen, in front of the fridge, door open, allowing the coolness of it to hit her hot and flushed body. She was bending over, about to take out some ingredients for a sandwich when she heard a small ‘pop’ sound behind her.

 

All too soon, a pair of well muscled masculine arms found their way around her slender form, the sweet smell of cologne, and warm, thin lips, kissing their way along the nape of her neck.

 

Thinking it was Malfoy, Hermione leaned into the caress and moaned her approval, silently wondering how he managed to smell this good already.

 

He smelt faintly familiar. It was a scent she knew, all too well.

 

She began to moan his name when it struck her.

 

It wasn’t Malfoy. This was Harry.

 

Hermione froze. She did not expect Harry home for at least another week. This was not good. Malfoy was in their room, in their bed!

 

Waiting for Hermione so they could fuck each other senseless again.

 

How the hell was she going to let Malfoy know Harry was here without Harry catching them out?

 

Shit.