d r i v e - b y . a . g o

Drive-by a Go-Go
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: And I hate myself / Just enough to want him / But I hate him just enough to get off

Notes: TThanks to Mousapelli for the beta. Title and summary from "Trigger Happy Jack" by Poe. Written for Melpomene170 in the Erotic Elves Fantasy Fest. The request was DM/HG during HPB Draco finds the Room of Requirement already occupied by Hermione seeking refuge from Ron/Lav. Rough, angry slightly awkward sex ensues after heated arguing. Pos. dubious consent but no noncon or hard kink. NO fluff or terms of endearment.

Date: August 14, 2005

Hermione dashed angrily at the tears burning her eyes as she entered the Room of Requirement, grateful it wasn't already occupied. The room contained a desk and several bookshelves, and a comfortable chair in which she could curl up and read, determined not to think about the way Ron and Lavender seemed attached at the mouth lately, and the way she couldn't seem to stop wishing Ron was attached to her, instead.

She'd finally got herself sorted, book in hand, cup of tea on the end table, when the door swung open. She looked up, reluctantly hopeful that Ron had followed her, and saw Draco Malfoy staring at her with surprise and loathing.

"What are you doing in here?" he demanded, pushing the door shut behind him.

"I could ask you the same thing." She thought of Harry's growing obsession with Malfoy, his conviction that Malfoy was up to something. Maybe she would be able to find something out if she kept him here, got him talking. Maybe she could do something useful, instead of sulking over a git who didn't deserve the attention.

"I don't have to answer your questions."

"And I don't have to answer yours." She carefully marked her place in the book, put the book on the table, and stood. "It seems we're at an impasse."

His nostrils flared and his mouth looked pinched. "I need the room. I have things to do."

"I was here first." She walked towards him, arms folded over her chest.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's the problem with this school. They let anybody in, even uppity Mudbloods like you."

She wasn't thirteen anymore, so she didn't hit him, though her hand curled into a tight fist she had to force herself to unclench.

"My blood is dirty? What about yours?" She took a step forward and he took a step back. Harry was right; Malfoy did look pastier than usual, and there were purple smudges beneath his grey eyes. "I know all about your blood, Malfoy." His gaze darted to the door, seeking escape, and she realized she was actually making him nervous. She found she enjoyed that, wanted to make it last, wanted to see how far she could push him before he pushed back. "You have the same blood as Bellatrix Lestrange." Another step. "The same blood as Sirius Black." His back was to the wall now, and she smiled. "Did you think I didn't know?" She leaned in, her lips nearly touching his ear. She could smell the (no doubt expensive) sandalwood cologne he wore, mingled with sweat and a little fear. "Madness. Rebellion. It's in you, too, if you think about it." She flicked her tongue against his earlobe, enjoying the hitch in his breath, the way his eyes fluttered closed, pale lashes curving like fairies' wings. "Do you?"

And then his hands were wrapped around her biceps and he was shoving her back against the wall, hard. It hurt, but it was also exciting. She licked her lips, noticing the way his eyes followed her tongue before his gaze dropped to her chest. They were both breathing heavily now; the pale, smooth swell of her breasts, edged with the light blue lace of her bra, and the shadowed valley of her cleavage was visible. She knew he was looking. She secretly enjoyed that he was.

"Don't be absurd." His voice was low, and she had to look up to meet his gaze, her eyes drawn back to the finely carved bow of his mouth, pink and full. "Sirius Black was a blood traitor. Weak and stupid--" She did slap him, then, for Harry's sake as well as Sirius's -- Sirius, who'd deserved better than what he'd got, even if he had been a little mad.

Malfoy's hands tightened on her arms, and he shoved her against the wall again. She raised her chin, daring him, and he kissed her, hard, rough, grinding her lips against her teeth as he forced his tongue into her mouth.

When he pulled away, she licked her lips, tasting blood, and grinned at him, showing no fear. Her hands were steady as she raised them to unbutton her blouse, and she laughed at the way his eyes widened.

"Come on, Malfoy, you can do better than that," she taunted. "I've heard all about you. Parkinson can't shut her fat mouth about how great you are." She'd wondered, though she would never admit it. And he had to be better than that oaf, McLaggen. "Why don't you show me just what all that inbreeding does for a man?" Ron would go spare when he found out, and Malfoy would hate himself afterward. It would be worth it just for that, and to satisfy her curiosity. If she hated herself a bit afterward too, well, she thought she could live with that. Maybe then she'd have a better understanding of Ron and Harry and their need to constantly push her away.

Malfoy was not pushing her away. With a low growl, he kissed her again, his hands tight on her arms at first, then sliding down, one to squeeze her breast, the other to push up under her skirt, tracing the skin of her thigh. He swallowed her gasp at the touch and nipped her lower lip. Liquid heat flowed through her, pooling between her thighs as his fingers traced the elastic of her knickers, then slid beneath to stroke her wet flesh. She shivered at the touch, because it felt shockingly good, and because she had always somehow expected it would be Ron--

Malfoy flicked her clit with his thumb and all thought disappeared. She pushed against his hand, wanting more, and his laughter was harsh in her ear.

"Gagging for it, aren't you?" he said, then bit down on her earlobe.

She reached down, determined not to be insulted or intimidated, and squeezed his erection through his trousers. "I'm not the only one."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

His mouth was fierce on hers, aggressive but not brutal this time. He sucked in a sharp breath when she unzipped his trousers and curled her fingers around him, hot and hard, and a shock of power, of need, shimmied through her. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her knickers, and when he pulled them down, his nails scraped over her skin, making her shiver. She unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands over his pale, thin chest, enjoying the way his nipples hardened under her touch. She stepped out of her knickers and hooked one leg around his hip, wondering how this was actually going to work, suddenly a bit unsure over whether she really wanted to do it.

"Scared, Granger?" he asked, his lips, red and swollen from kissing her, twisting into a sneer.

"Of course not." She surreptitiously tapped her hip with her wand and cast a contraception charm. Then she grabbed his shoulders, not caring that her nails were digging into him, and wrapped her other leg around him, her skirt rucked up around her waist. "Just do it already."

He was not gentle. She didn't really expect him to be. It wasn't what she'd expected at all, really. It was both better and stranger, so different from the feel of her own fingers. She bit down on his lower lip at the twinge of pain, and he pulled back to look at her, eyes wide and surprised for a moment. She thought she saw a triumphant gleam in them as he began moving faster, harder, snapping his hips into hers.

She closed her eyes, tried to imagine Ron, or Harry, or even Viktor, all of whom had featured in her fantasies, but she couldn't blot out Malfoy's presence, the relentless drive of his body into hers. She was starting to feel something more than uncomfortable now, starting to understand what the fuss was about. She wrapped one hand around the nape of his neck, pushing her tongue into his mouth in counterpoint to the way he thrust inside her body, and he moaned. That sent a wave of pleasure through her, and she slipped her other hand down between them to touch herself. Heat and need uncoiled slowly, like a snake undulating to the rhythm Malfoy set, a low, wet pulse building inside her, rising and tightening, stealing the air from her lungs.

He dropped his head to rest on her shoulder, following up a quick bite to her neck with soft licks that took the sting out of it. He stiffened and shuddered, hips jerking wildly, and then spilled himself inside her with a muttered curse. He pulled out when he was done, and she lowered her tired legs, trembling, still aching with unfulfilled need. He looked at her, a slow, lazy smile curling over his face, fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat. He looked like a debauched aristocrat in a bad romance novel, and she was annoyed with herself for the flight of fancy.

He began buttoning up his shirt and she said, "You're not done yet."

"Oh, no, Granger, I'm quite done. You're the one who isn't finished." He sounded amused and condescending, as if the fact that she hadn't come yet were only to be expected of someone of her inferior breeding.

She grabbed his hand. "If you don't, I'll--"

"I don't think you're in any position to be threatening me," he interrupted, trying to free himself.

"You'll never pull again -- with anyone -- if you walk away now." Her voice was breathless but unyielding.

He looked startled, then leaned in and kissed her hard. She replaced her fingers with his, body humming with need. It took a few moments for her to get back into the flow of it, but soon she was gasping and thrusting against him, desperate for release.

"I'd tell everyone how you begged me for it," he whispered in her ear, and he sounded so far away as blood pounded in her ears. The tension broke like a wave, flooding her body with pleasure, and she couldn't stop herself from moaning a bit. "Like the little fucking slut you are." He jerked his hand away, but she didn't care; nothing mattered but the amazing sensations coursing through her. "But I wouldn't want anyone to know I actually touched you." She leaned against the wall and tried to think of something witty and cutting to say, but her mind failed her for once, and stayed blank, still overwhelmed by her body.

"You can tell Weasley and Potter I was here first," he said, smirking, as he cleaned himself up with a quick charm. "No one else would believe you."

He swaggered out, slamming the door behind him, and she sank to the floor, shaky legs finally giving out.

She knew she could never tell Ron or Harry, and she also knew she'd been right. She did hate herself a little, for wanting it, for taking it, from Malfoy. But as she gathered her thoughts and buttoned her blouse, she clung to the hope that he hated himself more.

end

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