Malfoy's Great Victory 5 (Patreon)

Draco wasn’t actively looking for anyone while he scouted the Devon area, just killing time until it was time to meet with Hermione again. Three days had passed, which was filled with endless magic practice, stressing him out. 

His scouting was more a work of monotony. After all, his regular information gathering was more or less complete, waiting for the takeover, and seeing how much he could injure Death Eaters in the process. 

He wished that preventing it altogether was a possibility. But he knew that it was not. Even Dumbledore and Snape knew that, which was the reason they carefully arranged a trap for Riddle to go around Europe, searching for the Elder Wand; while Snape used Riddle’s absence to set up the situation. 

His trip, for all intents and purposes, was a routine patrol, something to calm his mind from the endless stream of planning and magic practice. 

But, exploring one of the smaller muggle towns while under disguise, he met with two familiar figures in a mostly empty muggle restaurant, though under a muggle-repellant charm. 

Lupin and Tonks.

Draco paused behind his disillusionment charm, pressing himself against the shadows, his instincts instantly sharpened. He hadn’t expected to see Order members here, let alone these two. He narrowed his eyes, observing from a distance.

It didn’t take long for him to realize they weren’t here for Order business. There was no mission. 

They were on a date.

Draco scowled even as he watched Tonks grabbing Lupin’s hand, her hair shimmering to a soft pink, only to turn into a dull brown when Lupin pulled his hand. That alone showed the dynamic of their relationship. Tonks chased, while Lupin retreated within a very apparent self-pity party. 

Maybe his opinions had been muddied by listening to Snape’s rants about those so-called Marauders while he was meeting with Dumbledore, but Draco had no respect for Lupin. He had been a decent teacher, but that was as far as his merits went. 

The man was a total coward. A shabby one, as shown by his ragged robes, worn boots, and a hint of exhaustion behind his eyes that no amount of rest seemed to cure.

Draco watched. “Remus, please,” Tonks whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You keep running from this. We have something special. Let’s get married.”

“And you keep chasing after something you shouldn’t want,” Lupin responded quietly. “I’m not… suitable, Nymphadora. You should want something more.”

Draco sneered silently at the exchange, the same words repeating several times in slightly different forms, his respect toward Lupin dropping even lower. It was clear that he wanted Tonks, yet he made no move toward affirming her feelings. But, he didn’t actually reject her advances either, throwing a pity party instead. 

Pathetic.

“I love you,” Tonks said softly. “I don’t care about the danger. I don’t care about the werewolf laws. I don’t care about your age.”

“You should care,” Lupin said bitterly. “I have nothing. No job, no money. I’m a liability. I have no right to tie you to this life.”

Draco rolled his eyes in disgust. This is the great defender of the Order, one of Dumbledore’s most trusted agents? One that the last remaining maiden of House Black has chosen? A broke, self-pitying creature too cowardly to reply to her declaration honestly, be it acceptance or rejection?

Tonks reached for his hand again, and he pulled.

“I don’t care about any of that,” she repeated, desperate now. “I want you, Remus. Not your job. Not your bloodline. Not your name. You. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because someday I’ll lose control,” Lupin whispered harshly. “And when I do, I will destroy everything I love. You included.” He pulled his hand back, raking his fingers through his greying hair.

Draco felt something strange bubbling inside him. Not exactly anger — but something close to cold disdain. Anyone else, he would have turned and left. But, Nymphadora Tonks was still a Black, a part of his extended family, halfblooded as she might be — a fact that was losing its importance more and more as he changed his perspective. 

Magic was magic. 

And this was who she was throwing herself at? A man too weak to fight for what he wanted? A jobless, half-blood beast hiding behind noble self-loathing while he let his passivity define him? Just like the rants Snape mentioned, like how Lupin played the reluctant lookout while Black and Potter bullied him in his youth, acting like his lack of spellcasting made him a victim as well. 

He wished that he could curse Lupin from behind and finish it. But no, that would not do. It needed an indirect hand. 

Luckily, he had the perfect method to achieve it. He pulled the intelligence report he was planning to pass to Hermione, and added an imaginary new line. A potentially dangerous magical artifact Riddle was trying to acquire in Morocco, one that was hidden by a reclusive group of werewolves, with several details to ensure its urgency. 

It should be enough to keep Lupin away for a few months at least. In the process, Draco would find a way to protect his estranged family member from making a terrible choice. 

With that, he slipped away, but not before casting a late-reacting bowel-loosening curse on Lupin, one that would stick around for a few days. Nothing like a bad stomach to ruin the romantic nature of a moment. 

The war wasn’t just about killing Riddle. It was also about reshaping the world where Draco ended comfortably near the top, establishing his family heritage once more. Some people didn’t belong to his family. 

///

With the surprise encounter handled, Draco went to the beach, barely on time, to the outcropping he apparated to the last time, and once again changed into his swimming trunks and sunglasses combo, the spells to conceal his true identity in place once more. He even added a muggle-repelling charm, ensuring they wouldn’t be disturbed in their fun. 

That would alarm any wizard searching for him. Luckily, he had greatly exaggerated those risks to Granger. 

To his surprise, Granger was still nowhere to be seen, a change from her previous habit of arriving early. 

Interesting. 

Since he had time, he decided to make the situation more comfortable. A quick apparition back and forth later, he returned with a muggle-style beach umbrella, two large towels, a small cooler filled with a range of beverages, and a few sandwiches. He was hoping that Granger would feel more comfortable in muggle equipment. 

He settled under the umbrella, waiting for her arrival. He didn’t have to wait long. She soon appeared at a distance, walking toward their meeting spot with hesitant steps. It was clear that, like he suggested, she picked the muggle traveling method. 

As she got closer, the details started to get obvious. For one, she was nervous. He could see it in the way she clutched the simple cloth bag against her chest, the way she kept glancing around while she approached. But, it was clearly a nervous tick rather than a determination to stay aware of the environment. 

Disappointing, but not as disappointing as her outfit. A plain white sundress, fluttering lightly in the breeze. The neckline was nonexistent, and the hem reached well below her knees. It was her attempt at resistance, clearly meant to discourage any repeat of last time’s provocations.

A failed attempt. Draco would make sure. 

As she drew closer, Draco could see the faint outline of the bikini she wore underneath, the thickness of its strings suggesting a conservative one, at least as far as those very revealing muggle standards were concerned. Most importantly, he could see her tenseness. Like she planned to reject his advances. 

He had no intention of letting her succeed. 

“You’re late,” he called the moment she arrived in front of him, his tone once again sharp and demanding rather than playful. “It doesn’t fit an exemplary student like you, Miss Granger.” 

The effect it had on her was incredible. Her determined expression shifted into panic. “T-there was a problem at the bus,” she muttered. 

He thought about pushing her to say sir, but decided against it. “I expected you to be more mindful, Miss Granger,” he said instead. He patted the towel he laid for her, but said nothing when she pulled it some distance away, bringing herself out of his range of touch. 

He let her do that. She was clearly tense, and there was no point pushing her too much. She relaxed at his lack of action and removed her sundress, revealing her bikini underneath. As he suspected, it was very conservative. The bottom covered her ass completely, while the top didn’t even have a hint of cleavage. The navy blue color just enhanced the conservative sensation more. 

Nothing that couldn’t be fixed, not after what they did previously. 

He didn’t hurry up. For a time, they spoke of business.

First, Draco updated her on the very important — and very imaginary — weapon hidden by the neutral werewolf packs in Morocco, one that needed an undercover agent like Lupin to go and carefully find out which pack was hiding it. 

“T-that’s very important,” she gasped. “Maybe I should go and —” 

“Not yet, Miss Granger. It’s important, but not urgent. As long as he leaves before midnight, it should be alright.” 

She nodded, and he shifted to talking about the state of the other Death Eaters. Yaxley’s increasing recruitment efforts. Rookwood’s quiet planning, was about to cast a big spell that even Draco couldn’t detect. The network of Imperiused government employees, their identities shrouded in mystery. None of them were new, but the progress was enough to feed her growing anxiety. 

And, the more she focused on the bigger picture, the less she focused on her determination to stay away from him. In her dedication to taking notes, she missed the fact that he was sliding closer and closer to her. 

She only realized the last part when he finished his explanation. “Now, it’s your turn,” he said, his hand wrapping around her waist. 

“I —” she stammered. He cut it with his sharp tone, still shocked by its efficiency. Though, the more interacted with her, the more he realized the other part of her problem was her inability to react to surprises. The moment things went out of control, her decision-making suffered greatly. 

Bad for dueling. Even worse for countering Draco’s naughty plans. 

“Start talking, Miss Granger. We don’t have all day.” 

Her voice trembling as she started telling him the relevant changes in Order, more detailed than the previous report, showing that she was trusting him more about his role as a spy. Despite her trembling tone, her explanations were meticulous, her observations sharp. 

The same wasn’t true for her posture. Trying to radiate confidence, she sat just a little too straight, her hands on her sides. It only highlighted her vulnerability. 

Exactly where Draco wanted her.

While she continued talking, Draco started acting. His hand started caressing her waist, making her tremble. She said nothing, focusing on her report. It only got better when he asked questions, his voice dropping into a lower register that seemed to work wonders on her. 

Her reactions got even more intense when he shifted slightly toward her back, his hands on her shoulder, giving her a massage. “T-that’s unnecessary, sir,” she stammered. 

“Nonsense, Miss Granger,” he replied, happy with the return of the word sir unprompted. “You’re tense. I’m just helping you to relax.” She mumbled something about it not being helpful. “Speak more clearly, Miss Granger,” he ordered, his voice suddenly sharp once more. “Do you have a problem with my selfless assistance?” 

“No, sir,” she gasped. 

“Very good,” he replied, his tone back to affectionate. He continued massaging her, while she focused on the report, trying to create an illusion of control. 

One shattered easily when he vanished her bikini top outright. She tensed, her mouth opening to object, but nothing came out. She continued with her report, her cheeks flushing again. That continued even when his hands dipped to her breasts. 

She trembled. 

“You’re shivering,” he whispered. “You must be cold. Let me help,” he added and he moved directly behind her and pulled her against his chest. His erection pressed against her ass. 

“I-it’s not cold, sir,” she tried to argue. He didn’t even bother answering, and she lacked the composure to follow up. Draco sighed in amusement even as he tightened his hold over her body. Who would have known the famous member of the Golden Trio was so easy to conquer, with so satisfying results. 

He would have done that before. 

“Continue with the report, Miss Granger,” he ordered. She followed his order, her voice hitching when he leaned to kiss her neck, adding a layer of intimacy to their compromised position. Her hands landed on her thighs, grabbing desperately to get a hint of control. 

There was none. She should have pulled away and left. That would have been her only escape. 

But she didn’t.

Draco moved in slowly, watching her every reaction, giving her time to stop him, each kiss to her neck spaced enough. His lips climbed up, caressing her ear. His hands traveled lower, landing on her inner thighs, and pulling her legs apart suggestively before he leaned back slightly. 

He pulled her on his lap, but not before vanishing his trunks, their privates only separated by her bikini bottom. 

Her breath quickened while she continued to give her report, slowly going into pointless details, including the boring preparations for a Weasley wedding, something he ignored until she mentioned the bride. Delecour. 

The memory of the smug blonde who walked around like she owned the school came to his mind, helping his erection even more than the current situation. Yet, Draco wasn’t a moron, and let that go uncommented. 

Even absentminded, Granger’s distaste toward the French veela was apparent. He didn’t want to ruin the mood. 

Instead, his lips grazed her ear while his hands directed her hips, making her move back and forth, making her give a lap dance. A pace that she picked up soon enough, allowing his hands to return to her breasts. 

Her lips parted, making him wish to see them around his shaft. Soon, he thought, but not immediately. Aggression risked breaking the illusion he had managed to establish over her. 

But, nothing kept him from leaning forward once more, his lips pressing her neck, his kiss turning from soft to mercilessly hard, leaving several hickeys behind. 

She shuddered in desire, her hips picking up speed without prompting. His shaft throbbed painfully. He was unable to resist the temptation. Luckily, the situation allowed an easy solution. He lifted her momentarily and lowered her back, with only change. His shaft was, rather than pressing against her back, between her legs. 

A push later, she closed her thighs around, continuing to rock. “Very good, Miss Granger. Let’s make it more fun,” he said. Her eyes widened while her rocking stalled. It seemed to break the illusion momentarily. 

Luckily, the solution was within reach. He leaned down, doing something he was burning to do. He stole her lips. It was not a soft kiss, but a merciless one, his tongue invading her mouth, leaving no quarter. 

Her hips started to move once again, her shivers even more intense. 

Their situation escalated enough to be not fit for a public location, not even as secluded as the beach they were in, making him glad for the charms in place to hide them from muggles. Lost in pleasure, she didn’t say anything when he vanished her bottom as well, leaving her nude, her wet lips rubbing against his shaft. 

He could have slipped in easily, but he was caught with a desire to hold it back. He wanted her to beg for it. Instead, he grabbed her hair, pulling it back to make her moan into his mouth, the kiss still interrupted.

Her wetness rubbing against his shaft while her soft thighs desperately clamped around was difficult to resist, but he still managed to hold until she exploded, her juices dousing his cock. He exploded, but not before grabbing his shaft, angling it so all of his spunk landed on her belly and chest. 

He pulled back, listening to her desperate moans smugly. 

“I … I need to go, sir,” she whispered, utterly lost. Lost enough that he could push her more.  

“Not before you clean up what you did, Miss Granger,” he said. “With your lips.” 

“Not that,” she gasped, then looked around desperately. “Not where anyone could see us!” 

“Don’t worry, Miss Granger,” he said as he stood up, lifting her with him. He pointed at the rocky outcropping. “We have the perfect location to keep your perfect body hidden.” 

He started walking, dragging a naked Hermione Granger with him. 

His day was getting better and better.