Shop 'Til You Drop

Hermione woke up feeling as though her brain was floating in a pickle jar. She couldn't remember where she was, or why she still felt so drunk. All she knew was that it was too early, whatever time it may actually be.

"Good morning, darling," Draco said as he shook up the bottle of hangover potion he was going to give Hermione. Of course, she would have to earn it.

Hermione's eyes squinted in pained response, and she shushed him silently with a finger at her lips.

"Well, if you don't want any of this potion, I'll just leave. Breakfast in fifteen minutes. I would not recommend keeping my parents waiting." Draco shifted his weight on the bed to make as though he were leaving.

Hermione's hand wrapped around his wrist, and she was able to croak out a plea for the potion. Draco smirked and unstoppered the phial. He tucked the tip of his finger in the mouth of the bottle and got a little potion on it. Then he traced his finger over her pert little mouth and watched with avid fascination as her tongue darted out and over it.

It was just enough to relieve her eyes so that she could look into the morning light. She relaxed her eyelids, and Hermione moved her hand to rub her eyes sleepily. Then she looked out at him through one eye, scowling gently.

"Not enough?" Draco's eyes scanned her face. Four days from now he'd be waking next to her, and it was all he could do to keep his excitement in check. He tucked his finger back in the phial, this time spreading it on his own lips. He watched as Hermione watched him.

Even through her booze-soaked brain, Hermione could see where this was going. She had some vague notion that they had snogged a bit the night before, but she'd been drunk, so it didn't count. Right? In any event, Hermione had to weigh her options seriously: no more potion or taking it from Draco's mouth.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, opening her mouth softly and licking her lips to signal to Draco that he could kiss her. Draco lowered himself over her and held his face just above hers. Hermione waited for him to finish, but after a moment figured out that he was waiting for her. Carefully, she licked his lips and took all of the potion that glistened there.

"Mmmmmm." She sighed in relief.

Draco, hearing her approval, kissed her soundly in return. Inwardly, he smirked as Hermione's mouth stopped in surprise at his behaviour, but after a moment she couldn't deny how nice the kiss was. Draco kept at her for a few long moments and was appropriately smug when, as he pulled away, Hermione's mouth followed his.

Taking one of her hands, he pressed the phial into it and said, "Bria?" Hermione was confused until a small house-elf in a pillowcase appeared beside the bed. "Bria, this is Miss Hermione, and you need to have her ready for breakfast and then shopping in twelve minutes. I've selected clothes for her and laid them out in the sitting room. Bring her to me outside the breakfast hall when she is ready."

"Really, I can get ready by myself, Draco." Hermione scowled at her fiancé after she tossed back the potion.

He turned and smirked at her before replying, "And do something artful with her hair, to impress my mother." Draco finally strode out of the room, not missing the gentle thump of Hermione's fists hitting the soft mattress as she harrumphed at his decree.

"Bria?" Hermione turned and looked at the little elf.

"Yes, Miss?" Bria bowed low and then looked up at Hermione with a gentle tilt of her head.

"Are you able to take direction from me?"

"No, Miss. I is to do what Master Draco says only." Bria eyes watered and she looked fearful.

Hermione sighed. She missed home and it was only the second day. Looking over the huge bed where Acara lay on her back with her legs splayed out, Hermione scratched the beast awake. "Let's get on with it, then." She smiled apologetically at the elf.

Bria looked wary. "You isn't going to fight?"

"Not today, Bria. Now, make me artful for Lady Malfoy so I can get this over with?" Hermione turned her legs on the bed and put her feet on the floor.

Bria breathed a deep sigh of relief and snapped her fingers. Hermione's hair was done up with bits and sections pinned around her face, and upon spying herself in a smaller mirror by the bed, Hermione had to admit it was very nicely done.

Hermione summoned underclothes from the wardrobe and moved to put on the olive green robes Draco had left out, along with matching heels. She sat on the chaise and looked warily at her feet. She hadn't worn heels in years. It would not do for Hermione to fall on her face the first morning in front of Lady Malfoy by tripping over herself. Hermione quickly transfigured her shoes to a pair of ballet slippers.

"All right, Bria, I'm ready." Taking the house-elf's hand, Hermione called Acara and they went to breakfast.

Draco was practically whistling as he stood outside the breakfast room waiting for Hermione. He'd waited eight years for this moment, and he could barely contain himself. These last ten minutes had been some of the most thrilling of his life.

Finally she popped up in front of him, and when she appeared, she took his breath away. Olive was definitely her colour. It made her skin look tan and healthy and brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. Roaming his eyes over her slowly, he came to discover something was amiss.

"Show me your feet," Draco said as he knelt in front of her.

Hermione felt as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but lifted up the front of her robes anyway.

"These aren't the shoes I put out for you."

"I transfigured them. I haven't worn heels in years, Draco, and I don't want to turn my ankle."

"Take them off; I'm changing them back. You won't turn your ankle, and if you feel unstable you will use my arm for balance."

Hermione glared down at him. "So you are saying I should wear dangerous shoes and let the big strong man take care of me when I'm thusly endangered by my own shoes!" Hermione yelled at him in a harsh whisper. She did not want to alert his parents to a disturbance in the hallway, but he was being ridiculous. Acara was sniffing at the door to the breakfast room, the smell of breakfast meats wafting gently underneath.

"Hermione, they're just shoes," Draco ground out, forcing the shoe off her right foot.

"It is not just shoes. This is just another example of acceptable misogyny! I'm lucky I don't have a wand any more so you can't take it to protect me from it!"

Draco transfigured her shoe back to its original form and thumped her big toe to make her lift her foot. "You are being absurd! You are going to walk no more than ten meters to the breakfast table!" Hermione's left shoe came off easier than right, since Hermione was trying to balance between the two different heights. As Draco transfigured it back, Hermione bent down, took off the first shoe, and held it in her hand. "What are you doing, you harpy? We are late for breakfast!"

"I'm not wearing these shoes," Hermione ground out. She could feel the fire building up under her skin in her anger, and she wondered for the first time where she could go to let it out.

Draco stood up and scowled down at her. Hermione's eyes were beginning to have the look of lava underneath the usual beautiful brown. Draco spoke lowly, occasionally punctuating his points by pointing her shoe at her. "Listen here, Princess. You'll wear these shoes and any other shoes I find for you to wear. You will not burn down the Manor trying to fight me over it."

Hermione wasn't intimidated. She stepped up into him and tapped the stiletto heel of the shoe in her hand on his chest. "I would gladly wear shoes that were bloody reasonable. I'm not going to cripple myself over your sense of fashion!"

Draco reached down and grabbed Hermione's wrists, raising them above her head. With a dancer's grace, he turned her and pressed her against the wall, holding her wrists and one shoe with one hand. With his other hand, he stroked her neck to her chin, smug victory showing on his face when she shivered.

"I'll make you a deal, Princess." Draco licked his lips and pressed his lower body against hers. "I'll transfigure the shoes if you agree to wear whatever I want as long as it won't cripple you."

"Only while we're in Britain, and it must be appropriate to the occasion," Hermione declared, thrusting her chin out stubbornly.

"Only in Britain, fit for the occasion," Draco agreed.

"Fine. Deal." Hermione moved to pull her arms down, seeing as they were now definitely late for breakfast. However, Draco's hand was still holding fast, although she did hear one shoe drop to the floor.

"I think I quite like you in this position, Hermione." Draco leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I think you should get used to it." His hand left her chin, gliding gently down her neck and over to her breast. He pulled her lower lip between his as his thumb began rubbing over her nipple through her robes.

"Draco, no." Hermione let out a broken sigh when his mouth moved to her ear, nipping expertly.

"That's not what you were saying last night." Draco slid his tongue in her ear, his lips curling into a smile as he heard the other shoe drop.

"Your parents are on the other side of the door." Hermione swallowed, arching into him as one of his thighs pressed between her legs.

"Indeed, they are," Draco said quietly into her ear, chuckling softly. He couldn't deny having fantasised about this as well. He dropped his chin a moment to whisper a spell so she couldn't hear it. Draco pulled his hand away from her wrists, and Hermione found she was bound to the wall.

Panic flooded her face. Draco tried to soothe her, gently caressing her face, neck, and ultimately her breasts until her lust outweighed her fear. Summoning her shoes, he transfigured them not into the slippers she had made, but into a delicious set of kitten heels. When he raised them up for her approval, Hermione was delighted, but could only nod in approval.

Draco knelt once more, lifting her skirts gently and placing the shoes properly on the floor. He picked up her right foot, massaging her calf and ankle a moment and pressing his lips to the top of her thigh toward the inside. Her thigh quivered in response, and Draco slid the shoe onto her foot. He repeated the treatment on the other side. When he was done, Draco took a few more moments to kiss her thighs, reaching higher and higher.

Hermione's thighs were slowly spreading, and he could smell her soaked knickers. His kisses turned bruising, and he left a dark love bite mere inches from her juicy cunt. Dropping her skirts, Draco revelled in her disappointed mewl. Looking up, he saw her eyes closed tightly. He stood and began to straighten her robes, casting a spell to hide her tight nipples from the gaze of others, although he could still see them through the dress. Then he reached into his trousers and adjusted his erection to a more comfortable position.

Finally Draco leaned over and licked her earlobe once more. "I would have you for breakfast, Hermione, but if you'll remember from last night, I told you you'd have to wait, just like I waited." Hermione swallowed, her eyes still shut tight. "If it were up to me, Princess, if we weren't to go shopping after breakfast, I would vanish your knickers and your bra and keep you wound up tight like this all day. Would you like that?" Draco's fingers quickly set to pulling her nipples again, and soon Hermione's back was arched and her whimpers were more like moans. "Look at me."

Hermione slowly opened her eyes into his dark grey gaze. The last parts of her will to fight him were crumbling under the pressure of his hands on her breasts. He was working her masterfully, and Hermione thought she might even feel wetness at the top of her thighs, having soaked her knickers completely through.

Beside them, the door handle began to turn. Draco smiled impishly. He muttered a couple of spells and Hermione felt her knickers dry, and the smell of her sex was replaced with the clean scent that she realised was throughout the Manor. Draco ended the spell at her wrists and moved to lead her into the breakfast room with his hand at her lower back. Lucius was standing on the other side of the doorway.

"You decided to grace us with your presence. How charming." Lucius' drawl held a certain note of impatience, especially since Acara had taken residence beside what would be Hermione's chair.

"My apologies, Father, Mother. We were resolving a minor dispute," Draco said as he assisted Hermione at her chair, pushing her gently into the table. Narcissa's mouth pursed in a way that showed she was restraining herself from expressing her annoyance.

"I see." Lucius returned to his position at the end of the table and observed Hermione's flushed state openly. She looked at him sideways and narrowed her eyes in response to his knowing look. Her scowl deepened at the unabashed pride in his smile at Draco as he dug into his breakfast. Thus was the start of a very long day for Hermione.

Hermione was regretting the deal she'd made with Draco before breakfast. They were in their third shop, and already she had more clothes than she'd ever imagined herself owning. Also, she had no idea how much had been spent, since Draco had told the sales clerks to hide all the price tags after she caught sight of one. It had been enough to buy a Muggle car. Hermione had tried to explain to him that it was silly to spend so much on clothes she would only wear a few times, but he had given her that look.

Oh, yes, Draco Malfoy had looks, and Hermione was well versed in them. There was the Puppy Dog, the Troublemaker, the Philanderer. The look in question was what she'd dubbed the Authoritarian. It was resolute; it meant that she was, in his mind, being ridiculous and daft, and he would not be moved. Draco Malfoy obviously had a stubborn streak, and it was possible that it was longer and wider than Hermione's.

So, when Hermione had fussed about the price of the dresses, Draco had gone Authoritarian on her, and she hadn't seen a price tag or a sales clerk since. She was certain that if they hadn't already spent her parents' joint annual income, they would by the end of the day.

Stepping out of the dressing room, she walked to where Draco was languishing with Acara on a beautiful velvet couch. They were in a store that leaned a little more to the Muggle style, and Hermione was wearing a pair of slacks, the first of the day, and a black top that clung to her curves snugly. The collar came well above her cleavage, so not an inch of flesh was in sight, but it hardly left anything to the imagination.

Not for the first time, Draco stared, making no response. Initially, Hermione had thought that this was because he hated the outfit. However, she now knew that it meant that Draco was reining himself in. She figured this out after the second time it happened, and Draco had stalked into the dressing room with her and snogged her thoroughly against the wall before drying her knickers and freshening up the place with the same spells he had used before breakfast. That ensemble he'd gotten in two different colours.

Now Hermione knew to just stand still until he got over it so he could look at the next outfit. He stood, circling her as a predator would. After two rotations, he stood behind her and brushed the hair back from her ear. His mouth clamped down on her neck, and his hands pressed up and down the sides of her curves. Draco had basically followed through on his promising threat from earlier in the morning; he had certainly kept her aroused and wound up tight as much as possible.

Now he turned her to the mirror, stroking her body. Hermione arched into his body, and his hands came up stroked her nipples as he gazed at her.

"Are you going to finger yourself tonight, Princess?" Draco asked in a low voice.

Hermione was shocked into silence. He'd done this move twice before, both times praising her body and describing all the ways he would fuck her once they were finally married. Asking her such delightfully vulgar questions was, however, new.

"Uhm..." Hermione swallowed.

"Merlin, I want you to. I want you to think of me while you frig yourself. I want to watch you do it." Draco pushed one hand into her hair and held it firmly but gently. Hermione's skin went to gooseflesh. "You get sexier every minute. It's all I can do to control myself."

Hermione wasn't sure what control he was talking about, since she was sure his hard cock was pressing into her back and he was toying with her breasts magnificently.

"Maybe I should fuck you on that couch, put your arousal to use." Draco turned Hermione to face him. "I do arouse you, don't I, Princess?" Hermione's own stubbornness didn't want to acknowledge it, at least while she was sober. She wanted to look away from him, but she knew it would only fuel the fire. What she didn't know was that her silence was fuel enough.

Draco continued, moving her now to the couch, walking backward so that when he reached it, he fell gracefully into a sitting position. He pulled Hermione onto his lap, both moaning when his todger brushed against her core.

"Tell me what you want, Princess, and it's yours." Draco stroked her hair, the pins from this morning gone since the snogging session in the first shop.

Hermione was at war with herself. On the one hand, here she was, so aroused by this man under her that she couldn't think straight. On the other, a younger, swottier, version of herself was yelling, "It's Draco Malfoy! What are you doing! Stop! Stop it now!" But she didn't want to stop; Hermione wanted him inside of her.

Hermione looked at him, the panic somehow held at bay. She looked him over, her decision slowly being made. Her chin dropped shyly, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. Before she could get there, though, she was awash in his scent. That sealed the deal, and her mouth dropped suddenly, inadvertently grazing his jaw line. Draco swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing beside the side of her chin.

"I, uhm, I could probably cum if you... mmm, suckled my breasts," Hermione whispered, her voice taking on a decidedly sultry tone at the end. Draco felt her cheeks flame hot in pre-emptive embarrassment. He fought to keep his breath steady, turning his head toward her ear.

Massaging her breasts, Draco took his time. "Ask me nicely, Princess," he coaxed with a firm but encouraging tone. If he could just play this correctly...

Hermione swallowed. "Please, Draco? Suck me?" Every word that dropped from her lips came with a corresponding clench of her quim.

"Again. Like you mean it." Draco's promising voice drew her out, his thumbs and forefingers rolling her nipples encouragingly.

Hermione arched her back into his hands. "Please, Draco? Please use your mouth on me?"

"Do you want it?" Draco pushed his hands down to her sides and back up again underneath her shirt.

"Yes."

"Do you need it?" Draco Vanished her bra, catching her breasts as they bounced softly, free from their restraints. He went back to massaging her breasts firmly and playing with her nipples.

"Yes!"

"Once more, Princess."

This time, without hesitation, Hermione moaned into his ear, "Please, Draco, stop teasing me, and suck my nipples. Gods, I'm so close, I want you to make me cum." She moved her hips toward him reflexively.

Draco couldn't believe it. He pulled the shirt off her, and his mouth found her bare nipples expertly. How many nights had he dreamed of just those words tumbling from her lips in absolute need? How long had he waited for just this moment?

As Draco switched sides, pulling her other nipple gently through his teeth, Hermione moaned, pressing her hands into his hair. Her hands turned to fists around his hair, and she began grinding against his cock.

"Fuck, Hermione!" Draco's mouth fell from her breast as he fought not to cum in his pants. She didn't seem to notice though, as she just kept grinding against him. Hermione's back was arched and her head dropped back, and it was the most glorious sight he'd ever seen.

"Draco!" Hermione reached up and squeezed her tits. She was delirious with passion. She was so close, so close and couldn't get over.

"Finish, 'Mione." Draco squeezed her thighs before moving his hands up to her hips. "Cum for me. I want to see you fucking cum for me." He adjusted her pace to one more of his own and watched as her body finally hit its peak. Her orgasm broke loose. Fragments of his name came out in her gasps and moans, and as her body convulsed on top of him, Draco found he couldn't bridle his own orgasm any more either.

His orgasm started on the last wave of hers, and as she flopped forward into him, he arched up into her. Draco's arms wrapped around her tightly. Her name on his lips, Draco had the most glorious orgasm of his young life. Once they'd caught their breath, Draco kissed her temple softly.

Hermione pulled back, feeling overwhelmed with emotion and wishing she could vanish completely right now. Had she really just dry-humped Draco Malfoy on a couch in a shop in Diagon Alley? Really? Hermione tried to swallow her emotion and plan a hasty escape, but how could she when he still had her arms round her?

Hermione swallowed again. She felt Acara bump her side with the flat part of her head. Trying to keep her face hidden, Hermione moved her hand to Acara's neck, hoping that the beast would not give her away.

"I'm neither blind nor deaf, Hermione." Draco sighed, smoothing his hands up her bare back. He tried to clear his mind of the post-orgasmic haze in order to have a coherent conversation with her.

"It's nothing, really." Hermione hastily wiped her tears with the back of her hand, sniffling. She tried to move off of him, but his embrace was too strong.

"Don't lie." Draco's hands moved to grab her waist, sitting her upright. He whispered a spell to clean up the cooling ejaculate in his pants, and he adjusted himself so that he was sitting more upright once again. "Never lie. You're bad at it, and how can I take care of you if you don't tell me what the problem is?"

"You don't take care of me," Hermione replied miserably, scowling at him. "You tell me how great it would be if I died. You tell me how inferior I am to you. You, Draco Fucking Malfoy, are the worst human being I've ever met." Hermione swiped her arm across her dripping nose, snot running all the way. "I hate you, and somehow I'm sitting in a shop in Diagon Alley in your arms, half naked."

"You don't hate me, Hermione, not anymore." Draco reached up to brush tears off her face, but she slapped his hand away. She used the break in his embrace to stand up.

She reached down and grabbed the damned top that had instigated all this and pulled it over her head. "You're right, Malfoy, I don't hate you any more." Finally, she reached down and picked Acara up before Disapparating away.