Draco finds out he is more experienced in sex than Hermione. He helps her lose her virginity, but finds out she is still very skilled with her hands and tongue.
Inside, in a secluded corner of the library, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger found themselves entangled in a different kind of tempest. The stacks of ancient tomes and parchment scrolls had become the silent witnesses to a secret, a forbidden intimacy that simmered beneath the surface of their animosity.
Draco, his usual sneer softened by a dawning realization, had discovered Hermione's inexperience. It had been a clumsy, fumbling attempt at passion, a stark contrast to the practiced ease with which he navigated the world of carnal pleasure. A strange mix of arrogance and something akin to tenderness bloomed within him. He, the self-proclaimed master of seduction, would guide her.
"So," he began, his voice a low murmur, his silver eyes glinting in the dim light, "you're... new to this, are you?"
Hermione, her cheeks flushed, her usually sharp eyes downcast, could only nod. The books seemed to press in on her, each title a judgment of her naivete.
Draco closed the distance between them, his movements slow, deliberate. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, sending a shiver through her. "Don't worry, Granger. I'll show you the ropes."
And he did. Over the next few weeks, their encounters became a clandestine ritual. They met in hidden chambers, the Room of Requirement morphing to their desires. Draco, the patient tutor, taught her the language of touch, the delicate dance of bodies, the intoxicating rhythm of pleasure. He showed her the art of kissing, the exploration of erogenous zones, the gradual escalation of desire.
He discovered, as he guided her toward the precipice of her first time, that her inexperience was not a sign of ineptitude. Far from it. As he positioned her, his hand finding the warm, silken entrance to her virginity, he found her hands were masterful, her tongue a weapon of sheer pleasure.
He braced himself for the expected resistance. But as he entered her, a gasp escaped her lips, a mixture of pain and surprise. Her fingers, however, were already at work, her thumbs tracing the sensitive ridge of his shaft. His breath hitched. Her mouth, too, proved to be a revelation. She learned quickly, and her eagerness was a potent aphrodisiac.
"Granger," he breathed, his voice thick with a mixture of lust and surprise, "you... you're a quick study."
Her eyes, usually alight with intelligence, now burned with a raw, untamed passion. Her fingers and mouth danced, her movements rhythmic, insistent. She was a natural, her hands and tongue capable of drawing him to the edge and holding him there, suspended in a delicious agony.
He found himself lost in her, the initial arrogance replaced by a fierce, possessive desire. He had intended to be the teacher, but he was quickly becoming the student. He thrust into her, matching her rhythm, their bodies moving in a primal dance.
As they reached the peak, their bodies convulsed, their moans echoing in the hidden space. Draco collapsed against her, his breath ragged, his heart pounding.
Later, as they lay entwined, the silence was broken only by their shared breaths. He looked at her, at the flushed skin, the damp hair, the satisfied flush on her cheeks. He had thought he knew everything about sex, but Hermione had taught him something new. She had taught him that even in the most intimate of acts, there was always something more to discover, always a new level of pleasure to be found. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that this was only the beginning.