Drawn ( A Dramione Story)

A Trio of Slytherins

The platform at King's Cross station flooded with tourists to London, normal morning commuters, and the occasional loiterer in need of a spare pound. Musicians of tangled and knotted hair pounded against stretched drums, scratched from use and transport of the London's busy streets. An empty coffee can rested at the base of their feet as their songs either entertained or annoyed passersby.

Hermione clutched her purse close as she passed.

The area was known for pickpockets. She tucked her pockets deep, clutching her passport in hand. It was irreplaceable. The smooth blue cover stayed fixed between her fist as she made her way through another crowd of tourists, snapping photos of the steel grid overlaid a glass ceiling.

Juicy fat drops of rain splattered against the roof. It invoked a hum of 'oohs' as she passed.

Under a blinding curtain of camera flashes reflected on glass, Hermione made her way to the platform. It was the one thing in the building that was devoid of all human life. No trunks or trolleys or luggage of any sort rested near the edge, ready to be loaded. Three days before and the entire place was jammed with Hogwarts students with luggage as far as the eye could see.

It'd been a long three days. She yawned loudly. She couldn't wait for a nap in the carriage.

"Trunk, miss?" The attendant stopped her as she passed. "Make sure it is labeled first. I will load it up for you, miss. Where is it? Where is the trunk?"

Shrunk in my back pocket, sir.

"No luggage," she politely answered.

The man tipped his hat and allowed her to pass.

She approached the train stop, passport in one hand and purse in the other. A sudden rush swept behind her knees. The support of her magic abandoned her like the bones of her spine suddenly gelatinized. She dropped down to the platform. Her tickets flew out of her passport, flapping in a breeze from an undisclosed source, and drifted to the edge of the platform where a single line just fit enough for a slip of paper to squeeze between track and train.

Bullocks.

Hermione grabbed hold of her passport and wobbled to standing when the fragile paper tickets flew off the ground, past her head at lightning speed and out of sight.

"What the - ."

"Now, now, Miss Granger." Her body flushed a sudden cherry red. That voice. It stirred up a deep feeling inside. "Careful now. You never know who might be listening."

She turned with a beaming smile. "Draco!"

Another part of her settled into that forbidden space where only lust resided. It was that piece that she missed while she was gone. She was surrounded by his arms as he wrapped them around her petite frame, pulling her flush against his torso. Her feet dangled in the air.

Their magic twisted together happily. It was reunited, finally.

Floods of ecstasy rushed her skin. Her toes curled within her sandals as the caress of his skin. A gush inside her folds permeated the air. It encouraged Draco's roaming hands farther. Every inch of her was touched by his stretched fingers.

She whimpered. There was no better feeling than his body under her. A wiggle of her hips pushed her apex against his hip in a delightful joining she could feel. He helped her reach the spot she wanted. It was like their minds were one again. That meld of their magics in just the right way near brought her to climax right then.

God help her, she wanted him.

"You've been in the sun," he hummed as his lips gently pecked their way down her forehead to a pair of needy lips. She thrust a tongue into his mouth the moment they met. He smiled yet allowed her to continue the desperate pulling of him close though the space between them was nonexistent.