Hermione wanted to curl in on herself like a ball.
The heat in her core was distractingly steady, and her whole body felt too warm and sensitive. She felt hollow inside. She wanted to be touched. No one had touched her in so long...
She took a deep shuddering breath. "Can't you wait and do it later tonight? I'm sure it will wear off after a few hours."
"I can't. I've suddenly been required in France tonight. That's why I came here early, I won't be back to the manor until late tomorrow," Malfoy said.
Hermione gave a small sob.
"Fine." She choked, and forced herself to lay back down onto the bed. "Just — do it."
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on counting backward from a thousand by doubling the subtracted number each time.
She felt Malfoy pushing her robes aside and shivered.
Malfoy's fingers near her core abruptly shredded her concentration, and she let out a smothered moan as her eyes snapped open.
Malfoy was looking down at her with wide, horrified eyes.
She stared at him. She had never really seen him as someone sexual before. Despite five months of having him bend her over a table, the sexual aspect of him had never really registered. He was cold and dangerous. Beautiful, but only in the aesthetic, like a marble statue. Not something hot-blooded. Not something she wanted any kind of physical contact from.
She had never, ever wanted to be touched by him in any sort of way.
Now she wanted to feel his lips against hers. To feel his hands on her. The weight of him that she'd been so desperate to escape from the night before — she wanted to feel it; to have him bearing down on her. Pressing into her.
The burn of arousal in her core was mind-numbing. She had never felt the need to have something inside her before, but as she lay there she felt ready to scream if he didn't touch her.
She hadn't thought the second night could possibly be worse than the first, but it was a thousand times worse.
She forced her eyes shut again so that she'd stop studying his face; stop taking in all the details of him that she'd never cared to take note of before. His hair and sharp cheekbones, the intensity of his eyes, his thin lips and straight white teeth, the precise lines of his jaw, and his pale throat disappearing in the black collar of his shirt.
"Just move," she said, and nearly sobbed with the effort it took not just move herself.
A moment later, she felt him prod and slide into her, and she immediately canted her hips forward to take him deeper.
She buried her face in her hands and tried to tear her mind away while she gasped against her palms and felt ruined.
She was shaking.
All she could think of was how much she wanted him to move. Hard and fast.
Whimpers kept forming in her throat and she couldn't smother them. She held herself so rigidly her entire body shuddered as she tried not to allow any kind of reaction.
The coil of want was drawing up tighter and tighter inside of her. She bit her lips together. She wouldn't give in.
She just needed to hold out. He'd come soon and it would be over. Then she could leave the potion to burn itself out of her system. His thrusts were becoming longer and harsher the way they did as he reached the end. He sped up slightly and she bit down hard on her tongue as she tried to keep hold.
And then—
She broke with a despairing sob.
Her whole body spasmed around him. She could feel herself clenching and seizing as he thrust into her a few more times, and then he shuddered with a tortured groan.
After a moment he jerked away, and she barely opened her eyes in time to see him snatch his robes off the bed and then apparate straight out of the room. She caught a glimpse of his face before he vanished; he looked grey, as though he were going to faint.
She lay there on the bed and cried as her head slowly cleared. Reality, bitter as poison, started slowly bleeding into her as she absorbed what had happened.
She had just had the first orgasm she had any memory of.
She didn't know if she'd been a virgin before she was sent to Malfoy. If she hadn't been, the loss of it was one of the many details that had vanished from her mind. It seemed like an odd thing to have chosen to protect. So most likely she hadn't had sex during the war.
Everything felt foreign. Nothing had given her any indication that such things were something her body had been familiar with.
The lust potion had altered things. Permanently, she feared. Awakened her body to a new aspect of these physical invasions that had previously lain dormant.
Hermione lay unmoving for ten minutes.