Drawn ( A Dramione Story)

Inexplicable

Potions was Draco's favorite class. It'd always been before, but now it was golden. Perfect.

Hermione admitted what she smelled in the Amortentia potion he expertly brewed and found that she couldn't seize the blush on her face. It was all too clear that what she smelled reminded her of their time together.

He knew the witch would not accept defeat in their case; she was too stubborn for that. It was up to him to encourage her toward a repeat.

Ever since he'd first felt her lips against his cock as she swallowed him at the Shrieking Shack, Draco was hooked. He cared only to relive that feeling again. Juicy pink lips as they slid so carefully over him, taking every inch of him inside no matter how much her eyes watered. He'd not forced. That was not a gentlemanly thing to do. He allowed the control to be in her hands, much to his surprise, she graciously gave him one of the best blowjobs he'd ever had.

She gave him every part of her body freely, unafraid of what he could do in her compromised state.

And the brave lion retreated at first light when she'd realized just how much she liked being with him. He felt it. She surrendered to him, and then ran away like a coward.

What was worst was that he didn't see her the entire weekend. And he'd tried. It was pathetic when he lingered within the common room with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. But, no. She locked herself in. Even the Weaslette couldn't enter.

It destroyed the beloved high of post-coital anything. He felt an uncontrollable urge to tear the wall between the rooms down with his bare hands if it meant she would see him again.

Just one sigh. He wanted to hear a single sigh and he'd be sated.

Monday, he got more than that. He'd gotten to hear her voice, see a smile, the roll of her large eyes as she regarded Pansy.

But then, he came across something he'd recognize on his death bed. Her. Her scent, her cum mixed with his. It surprised him just how powerful she was, the lingering aroma a marker of everything he felt for her. His head filled with dizzying attraction as he tried to reclaim his presented calm.

A pitched tent in the middle of breakfast was hardly welcome at Hogwarts.

He'd trembled with excitement as she retreated to the one place she'd seek comfort, the one place where no one tread so early in the morning. The very room where a couple could entangle themselves in a heated mess with no one the wiser. Craving her taste despite a filling breakfast baffled him as he marched closer, feeling his body move in her direction led by her scent, every step a relief.

Her bloody scent. It plagued his thoughts in his first period class. Every attempt at notes left only an empty parchment and an enraging need to take her again, better, longer, never let her leave.

Hermione Granger was not a witch to be captured by lust. She'd never lingered on one too long, apart from Weasley. The way she disregarded the option clearly gave significant meaning to her change. Whether she liked it (she most definitely did, no matter how she denied herself) or not, there was no saying what the witch would do.

Draco's work was cut out for him. Starting with other wizards.

Neville's news in potions was an interesting development that he wasn't ashamed to be pleased by. She was overcome with disgust when another touched her. Flesh on flesh. One poke, and she was cursed with a fit of dry heaves. As off-putting the sight was, Draco settled. No other wizard could try his luck with her. Not that he'd let another try.

There was no sense to it. They'd known each other for years. Hated each other's existence. There was no denying the draw he felt toward her since the first brush of her skin, that deep down ache inside his balls. He knew when she entered a room. He knew whenever she moved. The very change in her face caught his attention.