Archive of Our Own

“There’s no way.” Hermione prided herself in always keeping an open mind, but even she had limits on what she’d take someone’s word on.

Across the small pub table, Draco looked amused and undeterred. “I’m not sure why you sound so surprised.”

“A full orgasm?” she reiterated skeptically. “From start to finish?”

As he sipped his pint, he flicked his brows once in acknowledgement that, yes, that’s what he’d meant.

She narrowed her eyes, considering it. In all the years since Hogwarts, and especially recently while working in adjacent roles within the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she'd learned that Draco wasn't prone to hyperbole. He said what he meant, and what he meant was (nowadays, at least) typically grounded in fact.

And sure, sex was different for every person, she knew that, she still couldn't believe that it would take so little. For him, especially. 

Not that she thought about that.

Not often, anyway.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

He sighed long-sufferingly. “Let’s say you’re working a case—”

“I am working a case,” she reminded him in a sing-song. 

“—and you’re given both a random opinion by an inexperienced source and a first-hand account,” he continued, ignoring her interjection. “Which do you put more stake behind?”

She met his point head-on, as she tended to for all their little debates. “So you’ve done it? Is that what I’m to glean from that?”

He leaned back, rotating his pint a quarter turn and then resetting it, eyes on her. “I have.”

She tilted her head, shifting her expression into something excessively kind. “Do you find you have an easy time reaching orgasm in general?”

He smirked, amused at the baiting. “I can last as long as needed, thank you very much.”

He probably could, she thought with a stab of annoyance. His self-control was frustratingly excellent, as exhibited by his unblemished record of not hexing McLaggen whenever they were assigned joint projects in the International Magical Office of Law, something which happened with some frequency.

Draco often lamented to her about it over lunch or drinks after work, but he had an impressive ability to always keep a cool head when it counted. Hermione’s track record was less pristine.

So him admitting that all it took to get him off was his cock between a pair of breasts was, therefore, rather unbelievable. 

They'd stumbled onto the topic in the way they arrived at most of their debates: a comment from one which had elicited a noise of disagreement from the other, and therefore forcing the first to defend their point.

The comment of origination tonight had been hers, specifically an idle one about an article she'd read in Witch Weekly while waiting for her Healer appointment, and how far downhill the magazine had gone to be printing such unfounded sex advice. 

“So it really does feel good? To…?” She pantomimed the act by sliding her forefinger along the line of her sternum visible above the neck of her top. 

His eyes slid back up to hers from where they’d watched her finger dip. “Unbelievably good.”

She ran her top teeth back and forth over her bottom lip speculatively, eyeing him. It seemed farcical. There was no way that a man could reach orgasm simply by sliding his cock between a pair of breasts. How long would it take? There was no way a woman — or well-endowed man — would be content to lie there while their partner rutted against them for, what? An hour? Who had the patience for it?

Even if that man happened to be Draco Malfoy, she thought an hour would be quite a sacrifice when she could think of several hundred other ways she could get him off much more quickly.

Again, not that she thought about it.

She tilted her glass up to drain the dregs of her cider, smacking her lips as she plonked it down on the slightly-sticky pub table. “Nope,” she decreed. “You’re having me on.”

“Merlin, Granger.” Draco’s voice was incredulous. “You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

She sent a saccharine smile across the table at him. “Sweet-talking me won’t help change my mind." 

That got his brow up. “So that's it then, is it? You’re just going to believe what you want despite evidence to the contrary?”

She resented the remark. If there was evidence, she would always respect it.

If being the operative word.

Because although she considered him one of her closest friends and, if she was forced to admit it, trusted him with her life, she wasn’t so far down the Draco-Malfoy-is-an-honest-to-Merlin-flawless-man propaganda that she believed him purely on his word alone.

And beyond that, if she was going to do anything with her life, it was absolutely going to include proving Draco wrong whenever she could. The satisfaction alone was always worth its weight in gold.

“No.” She slid her glass to the side and leaned forward on her elbows, nearly crossing onto his side of the small table. “I’m going to do the only thing which makes any sense to get to the truth once and for all.”

Draco hadn’t moved from his reclined pose, but even so he felt very close, so close that she swore she felt the air of his low chuckle. “And what’s that?”

“I’m going to personally test the theory.”

Draco’s jaw twitched but he covered it with another laugh. “Oh? With whom?”

His eyes flicked around the pub behind her, assessing the potential men she might conduct her experiment with, jaw feathering more obviously this time. Hermione waited for his eyes to find hers, which they finally did when he brought his attention back to the table to reach for his pint, his hand pausing inches from his drink when he caught her eyes on him.

“With you,” she replied, and savored the brief glimpse of surprise that flashed over his face before he concealed it.

The plan had come together in a snap, and she'd had just enough cider (two short glasses) to not overthink it. She'd prove him wrong, and wanted him to be there to witness it. 

He swallowed, then had a sip of his pint and swallowed again. 

“With me?” he repeated, voice intentionally neutral.

“Yep.” She didn’t blink. Now that's she'd put it out there, she wouldn’t be the one to back down.

His nostrils flared but he didn’t blink either, slowly moving his glass to the side without looking and then filling the empty space of the table with his forearms. It was warm in the pub, and he’d pushed his sleeves back to the elbow. She admired the swell of his lean muscles when he put a bit of weight on them, leaning forward conspiratorially, suddenly very close to her. 

“Just to be clear," he said, and the edge of his mouth curled up. "Are you asking me to fuck your tits, Granger?” 

She had a sense that he thought she was joking, or would call his bluff. She unburdened him of the misunderstanding immediately.

“Yes.” 

His brows twitched together once before neutralizing. “Yes?”

She was intrigued by the way his voice had gone a little strained. “Yes. But with a minor caveat.”

“And what's that?” 

“I want us to drink Polyjuice first.”

He stared and then barked a laugh. “That's minor?” His amusement faded as another thought occurred to him, so vividly she practically saw it form behind his eyes. “I see. Who would you like me to be, then?”

It was cute how bad he was at concealing his little hurt feelings. She almost wanted to string him along for a bit – see who she could suggest before he broke – but it would almost be too easy and anyway, she was more interested in his reaction to the truth.

“Me.” She sat back and gestured to him with a casual hand. “And I’ll be you.”

It was rare to see Draco Malfoy speechless. Rare and wonderful. She enjoyed it thoroughly as she waited for him to collect himself. He did, marginally, and she found she was rather impressed with herself for how long it took. 

“What?” he said at last, voice deeply disbelieving.

“Well, if it does feel as good as you say, then it doesn’t seem fair that you’d get to prove a point and come, does it?”

He looked gobsmacked for a moment longer but then recovered some of his confidence.

“Capitulating already?” he inquired mildly. 

Damnit. She hadn’t meant to imply he’d be correct.

“No,” she said adamantly. “Beyond ensuring I have the best time of it, it’ll also ensure you’re not cheating by doing something else at the same time to make yourself come.”

His brow arced dramatically, the edge of his lip tugging up along with it. “Yeah? Like what?”

She tutted to cover how warm her cheeks had gotten as the many, many things she could think of him doing to himself bombarded her all at once. “As if I’d give you ideas. Now come on, what do you think? Will you do it?”

“Will I Polyjuice myself into you, so that you can fuck my tits?” He held her gaze for a moment, waiting for her to correct him. When she didn’t, he looked to the side, as if hoping for a witness to the madness, but their Department coworkers had long since redistributed around the pub, leaving no one for him to corroborate with. 

He cleared his throat and then reached for his pint, downing the last few inches in a handful of swallows before setting it down and swiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. She awaited the verdict on tenderhooks.

“Yeah,” he said. “Alright.”

“Really?” She tried to keep the eagerness out of her voice but suspected she failed by the way his brows lifted almost as high as her voice had. She carried on before he changed his mind, back in her normal register. “Great. Excellent. Well, shall we go then?”

“What, now?” 

He was intolerably slow sometimes.

“Yes, now. No time like the present. And if I’m honest, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it until I test it.”

“But we need Polyjuice.” He searched her face and when she offered him only a patient expression, his shifted to disbelief. “You have Polyjuice handy? Why do you have Polyjuice handy?”

“I’m resourceful. And some habits are hard to break.” She reached for her bag and slung it across her chest. “Shall we go back to mine?”

“Granger.” There was a note of something unsure in the way he said her name. It made her hyper-aware of what she was offering him. The line she was practically dragging him over. But he was a big boy - assertive - if he wasn't keen, she knew he'd have no problem saying so. So, she employed a different tactic. 

“If you don’t want me to prove you wrong, that’s quite alright,” she goaded. “I’m perfectly fine accepting that I was right all along – no need to put yourself out over it.”

That did it. He narrowed his eyes at her, pushing back from the table and joining her on his feet.

“No, no,” he said, gesturing toward the door with an open palm. “I’m game. You know I love nothing more than putting you in your place.”

She waggled her brows at him once. “We’ll see about that.”

She Disapparated them from the alleyway, her hand curled around his wrist. As soon as they materialized in her flat, she released him.

Having him in her home was a new level to their friendship, but as she planned to advance things quite a bit further between them (for the sake of both scientific exploration and proving a point — two of her favorite things), she considered it a necessary first step.

She was determined to keep things light and so gestured around with a casual hand.

“Welcome to my flat. This is my lounge, kitchen’s through there...”

She walked him down the hallway, pointing out the loo as they passed it on the way to her bedroom. She set her bag onto the bed to rummage through it while he performed a slow circle in her periphery, inspecting her things before leaning against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. 

“What are the rules?” 

She glanced over, elbow-deep in her bag. “Rules?”

He gave her a flat look. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe you’ll let me inhabit your body without rules.” The corner of his mouth twitched in an almost-smirk. “I’m not that lucky.”

“That’s a good point.” She chewed the corner of her lip, thinking. “You can touch my breasts, obviously. But…nothing below the navel.” 

It wouldn’t do for the first time her body felt his hands, it’d be him experiencing it. Although…she could use it to teach him a thing or two about what she liked–

She banished the thought with a quick sniff.

His eyes flicked down to her hips then back up. “Fair enough.”

She waited but he didn’t continue. “And you?” she prompted. “Where can I touch your body?”

He exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. “While you’re inhabiting it? Just my cock.” 

She raised a brow at the qualifier but didn’t ask. She was determined to not overextend her curiosity; the line they were walking was already razor-thin.

“Okay.” She paused. “Any other rules?”

He sucked his canine speculatively. “How far are we taking this?”

“What do you mean? I’m going to put your – my – cock between my – erm, your – breasts and do my best to come without any other stimulus.”

She could tell right away he didn’t like it, but couldn’t fathom why. It was exactly what they’d agreed on and it worried her that he was potentially reneging on their arrangement, the taste of discovery already rich on her tongue. 

“I don’t usually leave my partner unsatisfied,” he said at last. “My…body doesn’t, anyway. I'd like it if things were...equitable.”

She felt her brows dip. “Are you asking if you can…?”

He inclined his head in the affirmative. “I’ve always been curious what the female orgasm feels like.” 

“I hope you know how hard I’m biting my tongue to not make a quip about that,” she joked, partly because she really did want to rib him and partly to cover the way her body had heated at the thought of him coming while inside her– that is, coming while inhabiting her. 

He rolled his eyes but she could see a line of tension in it, his request still unanswered. She genuinely felt badly for what her response would be, but the thought of sharing her body with him in such a complete way made her feel vaguely itchy. Hyper-sensitive.

“No,” she said, with a hint of regret. “Sorry, but no. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” 

He nodded easily. “Fair enough,” he said again.

“I know that’s not really equitable but–”

He held up a hand, silencing her. “It’s still your body. It's your choice.”

"Okay. Thank you." She gave him a tight-lipped smile and went back to rummaging in her bag. Her hand closed around the smooth-sided bottle and tugged it out. “Here we go.”

“Still can’t believe you carry that around with you,” he said. “I ought to get Potter to issue a warrant to have the contents of that expelled and inventoried.”

She ignored him, summoning two cups from her kitchen and unstopping the bottle before pouring out two equal measures and pointedly replacing the bottle in her bag. He snorted.

“Hair, please,” she said, tugging a strand from her own head for his cup. 

He plucked one from the longer locks on top and held it aloft. She approached, setting his glass of Polyjuice down on the dresser beside him and then taking his hair from him. 

“I take it you’ve done this before,” he said, watching as she added his hair and then swirled her cup, encouraging it to sizzle down into the potion.

“Mm-hm. Thrice, actually. In fact, this isn’t even the first time I’ve Polyjuiced into a man — though it will be the first time I actually do anything fun with it, rather than try not to be killed.”

“I’m sure this won’t be news to you,” he began, adding her hair to his potion and copying her swirl, his wrist loose and almost lazy, "but you fucking scare me.”

She laughed. “Oh, please. Don’t start flirting now, Malfoy. Wait ‘til it’ll be put to good use, hm?” She waggled her cup of potion at him. 

“As you’ll soon find out,” he said, lifting a brow and his glass. “It won’t take much.”

She brought the cup to her lips and drank it down in two small swallows, rather than reply to that. His eyes were intent on hers, watchful and curious. 

“I’d ask how I taste, but I think I’m about to find out, aren’t I?” He waggled his brows suggestively, smirking. 

“Don’t tempt me,” she warned, dabbing at her lips with her sleeve. She hated that he didn’t actually taste bad, sort of floral and sharp, like– 

She stopped herself, refusing to analyze the nuanced flavor of Draco Malfoy.

“Go on,” she told him. “It’ll take effect soon and I’d rather not have two Draco Malfoys in the universe at once if I can help it.”

He snorted but did as she said, tipping up his cup and swallowing the potion down. She noted that he didn’t grimace, suggesting he either had a better poker face than Harry and Ron had while choking down Crabbe and Goyle’s brews, or that he liked how she tasted, too. 

He licked his lower lip, looking thoughtful as he set the cup down. The changes began a moment later, and she suddenly realized that the clothing she was wearing wasn’t even close to Draco Malfoy-sized. She began unbuttoning her blouse, keen not to have it torn by the expansion of her chest and arms.

“Granger–” he began, tone plaintive, but she could already feel the way her body was shifting and broadening. 

He noticed it too, and held his protest, watching as she shrugged the silky material off and then unclipped her bra, just as her chest became his. She unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them over her hips, and then down strong thighs and toned calves. She stumbled slightly on suddenly-larger feet as she tugged them fully off. 

His transformation was concealed under his white shirt and trousers, the garments gradually loosening as the body inside shrank until they were draped in a way she actually found quite attractive. She made a mental note to add more menswear to her sartorial repertoire. 

After a final few moments, the room was occupied by a fully clothed Hermione Granger and a Draco Malfoy wearing nothing more than a pair of lace-trimmed cotton knickers.

“Obscene,” he remarked, eyeing his body. “Get those off.”

She had to agree with his assessment. Even soft, the cock was bulging the material in a way that made a mockery of the cotton. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband, working them first around the unfamiliar obstacle of a cock and then the curve of an irritatingly toned arse. With the knickers no longer supporting things, she felt the way gravity took hold. It was instinct to bring her hand down.

“Gung-ho as ever, Granger,” he remarked dryly, eyes on her hand where she’d wrapped it around her flaccid cock. 

She mostly ignored him, fascinated by the way she could finally feel what it was like to have a hand around a cock from the perspective of the cock-haver. It wasn’t hard yet, but even so, the pressure of her fist felt nice. She sent her hand lower to fondle her balls, and then lifted slightly, curious about absolutely everything.

“You just…walk around like this,” she mused, weighing again and then letting them drop back into her palm. “Isn’t it cumbersome?”

He snorted, the sound still so him even when produced by her throat and nose. “Not really. But I’ve had my whole life to get used to it.”

“Hmm.”

It felt odd to have the nexus of sensation on her front, rather than between her legs. She considered sending her hand between them, purely for the novelty of feeling nothing but skin, but didn’t want to overstep. Men were sometimes tetchy about it and she didn’t want to accidentally violate him.

She brought her hand back up to support her cock (it felt odd to just let it…dangle) and glanced up. His eyes rose to meet hers. 

“Is it strange?” she asked. “To see your body like this, I mean.” 

“Despite your frequent hurtful and inaccurate quips about my appearance, I do own mirrors.”

The comment made her smirk. She wondered how he liked being on the receiving end of the expression for once. “Like to watch yourself, do you?” she drawled.

He rolled his eyes, an expression that looked very at home on her face. “Cute.”

She gestured to him. “Go on, then. Your turn.”

“Right.” His hands rose to begin undoing the buttons. “Just the shirt?”  

“Are you wearing anything under the trousers?” 

He gave her a flat look. “I do wear pants, yes, Granger.”

“Far be it from me to assume. But fine, trousers can come off too.” 

He set to work stripping off the shirt. It was strangely alluring to see her breasts being slowly revealed as he worked down the placket, the olive tone of her skin contrasting brilliantly with the white material. The hint of a rounded swell drew her eye.

Another amused snort from him recaptured her attention but when she looked up, he was looking down. “Like what you see, do you?”

When she sent her own gaze down, she saw that the cock – her cock – had begun to grow. How inconvenient, to have her sexual interest so brazenly exposed. For a fleeting moment, she felt badly for men, that their desires would always be so evident. 

The feeling passed quickly. 

She didn’t deign to reply, simply circling her hand around the thickening shaft and flicking her brows at him once. He rolled his lips in to conceal his smile, shaking his head as he pulled the shirt off.

“Such a lech, Granger,” he tutted, then glanced down at his bared breasts. “Merlin. These are lovely.”

She ignored the way his praise and subsequent groping had her cock filling even more swiftly, more interested about watching the way his hands molded the softness of his breasts. While she’d never found another woman personally attractive, she did appreciate the aesthetics of a good pair of tits. 

He cupped one in each hand, weighing as she had done to her cock and balls, and then squeezed. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, intrigued. 

“This is going to be an excellent learning exercise,” he mused, half to himself. His thumbs brushed lightly over his nipples and he made another sound. “Very educational.”

It was quickly becoming clear that if Hermione kept stroking her cock, she was going to skew the results of her experiment. She took her hand off, curling both into fists at her sides.

“Right, so…how do we do this?”

He kept his hands on his breasts but met her eye. “There are a few positions. You could sit and I’d kneel in front of you, or you could lie down while I lean over you, or I could lie down and you could straddle me—”

“That one. I like being on top.”

He chuckled. “Of course you do.” He cupped the breasts appraisingly, weighing again and then pressing them together. “You have great tits for it. Could really do it any way you liked.”

“I won’t like it,” she reminded him primly. 

He laughed. “We’ll see.”

He walked over to her bed, finally letting go of his breasts to undo his belt and fly before letting the material fall of its own accord. He kicked the garment away, crawling up onto the duvet in a pair of black boxer-briefs and making himself comfortable on his back in the middle.

“Under the sheets,” she berated. “I don’t want to have to wash my coverlet.”

“Planning on making a mess?” he teased, but did as she asked.

She joined him on the bed, tugging the top sheet and coverlet down to the foot, properly out of the way. She didn’t intend to get semen on any part of her bedding, but on the off-chance it was harder to control a cock than she’d bargained for, she didn’t want to dirty the quilt her grandmother had made her. Male orgasms had always seemed held off by a hair-trigger and she wasn’t naïve to the fact that she likely only had a small idea of what might summon it forth.

She straddled him, a position she was quite familiar with, though one that felt new now that she was the larger of the pair. 

It was strange to be sitting on top of herself and she took a moment to appreciate it. Her hair looked pretty spilled out on the pillow below her, and there was a soft rose to her cheeks. It delighted her that Malfoy’s blush would be evident even behind her olive complexion.

“What now?” she asked. 

“It’s odd not to start things by kissing,” he mused. “I always kiss before anything else.”

She considered this. “I am rather curious what it feels like to kiss myself…but no, I don’t think we should.” 

“In that case…” Draco brought his hand to his mouth, jaw working as he collected saliva, signifying there’d be no dawdling. Which, of course, was just fine with her.

“I do have lube, if you pre–” she began, but he was already reaching forward to wrap his hand around her cock. The slick glide of his fist was surprising in its intensity, and she felt herself jerk in his hand. “–oh!” 

He worked his saliva along her cock in several long, slow pulls. She watched him stroke, noting – because it felt very good – the way he squeezed when he got to the tip. Her cock looked massive in his small hand, another visual that had her arousal pooling hotly, unable to look away. Gods, she was so fucking hard. 

“I could get you off so fast,” he murmured. “Not sure you understand just how fast I could do it.” 

She didn't know if he meant now, handling a familiar cock, or in general, but either way, she couldn't deal with it. She closed her hand around his wrist, taking a moment to marvel at the way her fingers overlapped and at the easy strength she had to tug him off her. 

“Don’t even start,” she chided, a little breathy. “Breasts only. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this.”

“That’s why we were doing this,” he agreed, taking back his hand. “No one’s to say we have to keep it to only that.”

“Don’t get greedy already,” she warned, though kept her tone light, heart racing at the implied offer. “Despite how good that felt, I’m still dubious.”

His face took on the focused expression she saw when he was arguing his case in a conference room or in front of the Wizengamot. It sent a premonitory tingle down her spine, a twisted sort of eager anticipation that she was about to witness him put his all into something.

He gathered more spit onto his fingers and she was better prepared this time for the feeling of him coating the length of her cock. 

“If you feel you’d like more glide, feel free to spit on me,” he said magnanimously, as if it wouldn’t be the corporeal form of Draco Malfoy spitting on Hermione Granger's tits, and then tapped his sternum. “Cock goes here. Forward and back, or whatever feels good. I’ll do the rest.”

“Right.”

It was stupid to be nervous, but she couldn’t help the feeling that she was about to be tested on something. She angled her hips down until her cock rested against his chest, then scooted forward another inch to adjust the position. 

“Good.” Draco cupped his tits, enclosing her cock with soft warmth. “How’s that?”

The movement was awkward at first, her brain not accustomed to making her hips go forward and back without any downward motion accompanying it, but after a few false starts, she sorted it out. It felt fine. Nice, even. But she wasn’t about to soil her sheets over it.

He was watching her face and seemed to realize the same. He hummed and wiggled under her, shifting closer and sliding his hands up until his palms were pressing his breasts inward and his fingers were holding her cock snugly down. The friction was suddenly excellent and the next glide had heat surging in her chest and cheeks.

“There you go,” Draco cooed, looking supremely pleased with himself. “That feel good, Granger?”

It did, something she would never willingly admit to. Instead, she drew her cock out and slapped it sharply over a nipple.

“Jesus,” he swore, eyes going wide. “Fuck, Granger, what the hell was that?”

“That feel good, Malfoy?” she cooed, copying his tone.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “It did. Wait a second–”

But before he could verbalize what she’d accidentally revealed, she tutted with as much superiority as she could manage.

“If my body is reacting, it’s because your perverted brain is inside it,” she informed him, then dripped a tendril of saliva down onto her cock (with an accuracy that made her quite proud of herself) and slid it back between his lovely warm breasts. Fuck it did feel good.

“You like this,” he murmured, voice tinged with intrigue. She opened her mouth to deny it, hating how obvious male anatomy was, but he carried on before she could speak. “Or rather, your body does. I bet if I reached down, I’d find a wet cunt.” 

Her cheeks flared with warmth and by the way his eyes brightened with victory, she knew the blush had shown. She cursed him for being so damn pale.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she denied. 

He squirmed under her, thighs shifting, and she almost reached back to pin them to the bed, except that she knew if the body below her wasn’t wet yet, it would be after that. 

“I dunno, Granger,” he mused. “Things are feeling pretty sensitive.” He wiggled again, jostling her above him.

“Stop that.” She sat heavily, thighs squeezing either side of him. “Stay still.”

His eyes flashed, lips curling up. “Or what?”

“I’m bigger than you right now, Malfoy,” she reminded him. “Stay still or I’ll make you.”

She watched as the brown of her iris was steadily pushed to the edges as her pupils expanded and the tip of her tongue darted out to slowly wet her lower lip. Draco’s tongue, she corrected herself. But that only made it worse. 

The cock between her legs was starting to ache, the soft skin of her breasts, the visual of a rather gorgeous cock pressed between them, becoming a delectable sensory overload.

She couldn’t help but make her next thrust forward a little more earnest, leaning forward so her hand could hold the top of the headboard for better leverage.

The next handful of thrusts felt incredible. Every time the tip pushed through the top of his cleavage, a spark of pleasure shot through her. She did it again, as many times as she could.

“Ahh.” He drew the word out and with it, the vestiges of her stubbornness. “Isn’t that interesting, Granger? Tell me, is it my perverted brain making your body react like it did to your authoritative little commands, or was it just your body all on its own? Because…” He squeezed his breasts tighter around her cock and she couldn’t hold her groan of pleasure. “...it can’t be my brain in this body and my body despite your brain.”

She’d never hated him more than in that moment. 

He grinned, knowing it, and then pulled his Ace, lifting his head to dart his tongue out, licking broadly against the tip of her cock. She gasped as a bolt of white-hot pleasure seared through her. 

“Admit it,” he demanded, voice soft and private. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“No,” she grit out and he smirked. The expression looked strange on her face but it was still so Draco Malfoy that she felt another pulse of lust race down her spine and, frustratingly, right to the tip of her very sensitive cock. She shuddered.

“The thing is,” he said, amused, “is that I know exactly how good this feels. And I also know that it feels even better with a soft little tongue to fuck against.”

She was burning up. But letting him win so easily was unacceptable. She quelled her rising need with a sharp bite to her lower lip. His teeth felt different, the canines sharper and his lip a little thinner than hers, but the effect was the same. She exhaled slowly as the lightning-hot sensation was replaced by the much-more-manageable shock of pain. 

“That’d be cheating,” she managed. “No tongue.”

He flicked a brow but lowered his head back to the pillow. She knew she was losing her mind when the sudden desire for a mirror to watch the scene as if it were really them, in their respective bodies, swirled to the front of her consciousness.

He was attractive. That much she’d reluctantly determined to be an objective truth shortly after they’d begun to interact in their shared Department. But to be attracted to him was something she’d been willfully ignoring for…Merlin, perhaps just as long.  

But now, in his body, about to make his cock come — she grappled with her overwhelming, unignorable, confusingly tangled desire for him. She wanted to feel his body come. Wanted to watch it. 

She let her head hang heavy, unable to look away from where the pleasure was building. There was a new urgency in her motions, a need for something she wasn’t able to define. She felt restless and desperate, right on the edge but unable to topple.

She wanted to stroke her nipples, to pluck at them, knowing it would make her crest that final edge, but he’d said she could only touch his cock while inhabiting his body, so resisted.

Her hands flexed restlessly around the headboard. Even a hand grazed up the flexing muscles of her abdomen would probably be enough, she thought dazedly. Anything. Anything. 

“You need to fuck something, don’t you?” Draco purred, sensing her agitation. “I can see you’re getting close, and whenever I get close, I always get an uncontrollable need to–”

“Shut up,” she hissed, the cadence of his speech doing her in despite the higher register to his current voice. “Fuck, shut up.” 

“Bet your balls are aching.” He pouted in faux-sympathy, and the downturn of her lip made her suddenly desperate for that tongue back. She had to close her eyes. “They tight, Granger? Ready to burst?” 

With her eyes squeezed shut, it was easier to pretend she was fucking into something, but the friction was just a little shy of enough. At the word tight, she knew immediately what she needed. She knew he’d know it, too, and would gloat when she gave in by asking for it. 

But despite her protestations, she could feel the end nearing. Tension was collecting hotly in her pelvis and at the apex of her thighs, and she could feel the way her cock was flexing with each glide, the way made slicker as precum began to bead.

Frustratingly, he knew more about the cock driving her wild than anyone. He was watching her, eyes fixed on hers as if he could see her behind the pale grey.

“Gonna prove my point, Granger? Make me a winner?”

“Fuck you.” She tucked her chin down, hips thrusting desperately into the cushion of his tits. But the word escaped her despite all attempts to smother it. “Tighter. Fuck, tighter, please.” 

“Say I’m right and I will.”

She groaned, loudly. “I hate you so fucking much right now,” she panted. But the need to come was overpowering everything, and her critical thinking had escaped her ages ago. “You’re right. You’re so, so right. Feels amazing. Please, I need to come. Tighter, tighter. Need to come.”

He grunted and banded his forearms over the bottom of his breasts, pushing together and down until she could do nothing but choke on air and flex her hips into the snugness. 

Her orgasm was sharp and acute, shorter and less full-body than she was used to but twice as powerful at the start. The crest itself was brain-numbing, and she lost track of the sounds coming out of her mouth until she heard herself very clearly groaning as her cock pulsed.

She looked down to watch herself shoot a streak of cum over his cheek and had enough sense left to pull her hips back so the next few pulses painted her chest and neck. Coming on her own face seemed a bit much, though he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Fuck,” she gasped as the pleasure abated. “Fuck, that was…”

He hummed a knowing sound, wiping the errant streak of cum off his cheek with the side of his thumb before cleaning it on the sheets beside him. She was too satisfied to immediately scold him for it. 

“I’ll admit, it was more arousing than I expected,” he said after a moment. 

“Getting cum on your face?” She grinned at his eye roll. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Don’t feel like I fully enjoyed it,” he groused, shifting under her meaningfully. If she knew her body at all – and after several decades in it, she absolutely did – then she was sure the black boxer-briefs were more than a little damp. 

“Aw, you didn't come? Congratulations,” she said, grinning. “Now you really know what it’s like to be a woman.”

He scoffed again. “I resent that remark.”

“Trust me, I do too.” She slid off and settled on her back beside him. She felt exceedingly generous to him and, in the clear-headed state post-orgasm, her curiosity had switched back on. “Lucky for you, I’ve changed my mind.” 

He tilted his head towards her, brows raising interrogatively.

“We still have about half an hour, give or take ten minutes, until the effects wear off. I’d like to make myself come.” 

“Myself as in this, again?” Draco asked, gaze indicating the body she was currently inhabiting. 

“No, you. I want my body to orgasm. I want to watch it from the outside.” 

Draco smirked. “You’ll find no complaints from me.”

His smug compliance gave her another idea. She rolled to the side to reach her nightstand drawer, then turned back to face him with her palm-sized vibrator in hand. She dropped it onto his abdomen, enjoying the way impact made him flinch. 

“Here,” she said. “Want to have the complete female-sexual-encounter experience?”

“You’re painting a pretty tragic picture,” he said, plucking up the toy. “Do any of these men ever leave you satisfied?”

“Once or twice,” she said, which she thought was a fair assessment. “You switch it on by–oh.” 

He’d turned it on with a deft motion, and it buzzed in his hand as he pressed the button a few more times until it reached a rhythmic, pulsing setting. 

“I hope you know you’re activating my competitive side with that comment,” he said, missing her stunned reaction to his apparent familiarity with battery-powered sex toys.

She leaned on the steady foundation of their banter, unchanged amid all the newness currently around them. “What, you think you can make my body come faster than I could?” she quipped. 

“Ah.” He glanced over at her, the edge of his lip quirking upward. “Sure, that too. Now, shall I do this myself? Or do you want to participate?”

“I usually do just fine on my own.” She gestured for him to begin. 

He hummed agreeably and shifted around, bending his knees to spread his thighs. His boxer-briefs were loose enough that, if it were her, she’d simply have tugged one of the leg holes to the side enough to slip her hand in, but he went the likely more familiar route of lifting the waistband. 

She knew the moment he made contact with his clit for the way his breath caught and his eyes rolled shut. 

“Fuuuck,” he groaned. “Gods, that’s insane.”

She made an understanding sound, mesmerized by the way her body took the pleasure. She’d grown to love her body, the strength as well as the softness, and seeing the intermittent tightening of her upper abs and the corresponding jiggle of her breasts and belly gave her a burst of warmth. Confidence. 

“You look sexy,” she told him, because he did. “Does it feel good?”

“Incredible.” His eyes were closed, hand unmoving beneath his briefs. “How much can I…what am I allowed to touch?”

“I ought to make you come just like that,” she said mildly. 

“But?” he prompted hopefully.

“But…” She reached over to cup his breast, marveling again at the span of her current hand. “As I said, I’m curious.”

He arched into her hand and she gave him what she’d have wanted: a brush over the nipple, and then a sharp pluck.

“Merlinfuck,” he bit out. “Do that again.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” She gave him another few soft brushes, and then plucked at his other nipple. He moaned. 

“Are your nipples sensitive like this?” she asked.

“Not like this.” His hand had started circling, rubbing the toy against his clit in conjunction with the vibration. “Fuck, my entire body feels hot.”

“Mm.” It was altogether too satisfying to see how easily he was losing it. And now that she’d experienced a male orgasm, knew where the key differences would lie. She wanted to blow his mind.

She’d licked her own nipple before, mostly to see if she could, so the texture of it in her mouth wasn’t foreign, though the angle she achieved while half leaning over him was better suited for it. She circled her tongue around the bud then sucked on it with little pulses she hoped matched the cadence of the vibrator. He arched under her again, whining. 

“That’s so good,” he breathed. “Fuck me, that’s so good.”

It had been her plan anyway, and though he likely hadn’t meant it literally, at his words, she slid her hand down his torso and under the waistband. The vibrator buzzed against her fingers as she dipped down past it, angling her wrist to try and stroke her fingers where she knew would feel so, so good.

But it was hard to get the right angle within the confines of the fabric, so she withdrew her hand to tug them down. He lifted his hips helpfully and then resettled, legs falling open to let her back between them. 

She closed her lips back around a nipple, knowing where to touch without having to look. Despite her currently larger fingers, she knew what her body liked and so she aligned the two middle ones, using just the tips to circle where he was practically dripping onto the sheets.

He made a guttural sound from the back of his throat, hips rocking. She followed the motion, keeping pressure and closing her teeth gently around his nipple. 

“That’s…fuck–” He broke off with a strained laugh. “That's the strangest feeling. I’ve never needed something inside me so badly.”

She could empathize. The uncharacteristic need to be inside something had ridden her hard right before she'd come.

“Yeah? Want them?” she murmured, pecking kisses over his breasts and up to his neck. He shuddered under her. “Want to feel your fingers inside my little cunt?” 

He moaned an affirmative but she was having altogether too much fun and so tutted softly.

“Ask nicely.”

“Granger,” he whined.

“Beg me to fuck you,” she whispered in his ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

It was getting tricky to keep her fingers just outside, the increasing slickness sending them skittering around whenever he rocked his hips. 

“Are you getting off on this?” His voice was strained. “On fucking yourself?”

She pressed her palm down over his hand, holding the vibrator hard against him. He sucked in a harsh, keening inhale. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” he blurted, an impulse that got her brow up. “Yes. Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

She flicked her tongue over his neck, right where she knew it would light up nerves all over his body, then leaned up to nibble his earlobe. 

“What a good girl,” she purred, then slid her fingers down and in, all the way to the palm. 

His groan was broken and wretched. 

“Gods, I think I just came,” he panted. And then gasped. “Oh fuck, that one was even stronger.”

“You’re not coming,” she said, amused, feeling his walls ripple around her fingers. “But you’re getting close. You’ll know when it’s the real thing.”

She worked her fingers in and out until she found the pace she usually liked, drawing back enough so that she could look down the length of him in her body, appreciating the different perspective. It didn’t take long until he was pushing back on her hand and squirming, then clenching around her fingers in a long, hard squeeze. She could see now how amazing it would feel around a cock.  

He pulled the vibrator away a moment later, hand falling limply to his side. She gave him a few more gentle, leisurely strokes inside before withdrawing her fingers. 

“How was that?” she asked smugly.

His eyes were still shut but there was a stupid, dopey expression on his face. She couldn’t help but smile at seeing it.

“Fuck,” he said succinctly, then heaved in a deep inhale. “I think I might be jealous of you.” 

She laughed, wiping her fingers on the sheets now that he’d already ruined them and then flopped onto her back beside him.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good sometimes.”

“It’s not always like that?” He stretched his legs long, pink-painted toes flexing. 

“They vary.” As she watched, his toes began to grow. The effects of the potion were beginning to wear off. 

He noticed it too, lifting his head to peer down the length of his body. “Bye tits,” he said forlornly, giving one a parting squeeze.

“Bye cock,” she echoed.

He glanced down at her groin and then grimaced, looking away. “Yikes, that’s traumatizing.”

She cupped a hand over where her cock was shrinking away as if a string was tugging it back inside her body. “Perhaps we ought to have done this part under the covers,” she joked.

They withstood the last of the transformation with eyes closed and when she felt the typical weight of her breasts and the usual length of her limbs, she opened her eyes and confirmed that she’d returned to her female form.

Which meant that she was now lying on her bed, starkers, next to an equally naked Draco Malfoy.

He seemed to realize it as soon as she did, head turning to look once down her body before his eyes snapped up to hers.

“...hi,” she said, for lack of anything else.

“Hello.” He wet his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue. “That was fun.”

“It was.” 

He searched her face for a moment before rolling to his side and cupping her cheek with his hand. The size of it felt right.

She leaned into it and he made a small sound of pleasure at her acceptance of his touch.

“Can I kiss you yet?”

She nodded, heart pounding, and he dipped his face to hers instantly. He paused, lips barely brushing hers for a lingering breath, and then slowly closed the distance. She kissed him back, meeting his pressure and then, when he held it steady, deepening it for him. He chuckled and she almost heard the unspoken now who’s greedy?

He opened her mouth with his, his tongue tracing the swell of her lip, the line of her teeth, the tip of her own. She welcomed him in, hands reaching to wrap around his neck and tug him further over her. He allowed the direction, bracing his hand on the bed beside her, and she hummed happily at the gentle compression of his body on hers. 

He softened their kiss gradually, like he didn’t want it to end. She didn’t either, and found that the acknowledgement didn’t panic her as much as it might have even that morning. She liked kissing him. She wanted to do it again. And that was okay.

He finally drew back, nose brushing softly along her cheekbone and lips pressing a final, light kiss to the high point. 

“As soon as you let me,” he murmured, right against her skin, “I’m going to make you come that fucking hard.”

She couldn’t help but grin cheekily, and the flex of her cheek made him snort delicately and rise up to look down at her. His expression was distinctly affectionate and only succeeded in making her heart throb even harder in her chest. 

She smirked up at him, unable to help herself from a final little quip. “After this, I actually believe you might be able to.”

As she’d expected, the challenge darkened his eyes. He caged her in, face dipping until their noses would brush with the slightest movement. 

“The mouth on you,” he accused softly. “Always so fucking smart.”

“You like it.” She sank her fingers into his hair, holding his face close. “Don’t you.”

She felt his grin against her lips, and then his kiss. “I really, really do.” 

Her entire being soared.

But it was so much more fun to be on the earth than in the sky, so she focused on the solidness of the body over hers, his steady breath, her fingers curled into his soft hair.

“In that case…” She used her grip to encourage him onto his back, reversing their position and sitting up tall over his lap. “Shall we see if you’ve retained the ability for multiple orgasms?”

His hands found the curve of her waist, thumbs stroking. “With this view? Won’t be a problem.”

She clicked her tongue in chastisement but couldn’t hold her smile. “Oh really.”

”Mm.” He watched his fingers as they slid from her waist up to a breast. “Hello, tits.”

His eyes met hers as he gave her a playful squeeze, and then he pressed his head back into the pillow when she rotated her hips over his, smile firmly in place. 

She bit the edge of her lip, eyes fixed forever on his. “Hello, cock.”