The Fortunate Ferret
Sep. 30th, 2011 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
worksofstonePostage Stamp for tickling, held down, bondage, and animal play
Rating: T
Pairing: Dramione
Notes: Rough, rough drafts. Will get beta'd and britpicked later.
Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed.
It was a terrible response to the situation, but what else could she do? She'd come back to their research lab after a fruitless search for an unlocked break-room, only to find her pale, sharp-featured partner replaced by a pale, scurrying ferret. At the sound of her laughter, the ferret—Malfoy—stopped running across the floor. He looked up. If any ferret could look indignant, it was him.
“Oh, Malfoy.” She bent over and gently scooped up the white ferret. He wriggled in her grasp, but made no attempt at escape. “What have you done?” She held him against her, and to her surprise, he curled-up against her robes. Hermione frowned. Usually a wizard's mind was unaltered by a transfiguration or a potion-induced change, but this was very uncharacteristic behavior for Malfoy. Unfathomable might be more accurate.
They'd worked together for almost two years in the Ministry's Experimental Restricted Potions research lab, as part of an unofficial division of the Department of Mysteries. To her surprise, after some initial rough patches they'd gotten along well. They'd settled into a routine of going out for lunch in Diagon Alley twice a week, hitting up a Muggle pub at least once a month, and even venturing out for a weekend jaunt around London once or twice a season. However, lately it seemed that all her other invitations were ignored.
She'd offered him one of a set of tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, a gift from Viktor and his team; Malfoy had unexpectedly needed to be out of the country on the day of the game. When McLaggen had shown up in the lab to personally invite-slash-command them to a Ministry-wide retreat, Malfoy had pleaded family duties; she'd been forced to spend the entire retreat watching McLaggen hunt Nogtails and fending off his advances. Only just last week he'd had abandoned her during the International Potions Research Conference awards, leaving her flustered at the podium when she accepted their joint Libatius Borage Award, First Class. She felt that her subsequent speech about the need to continue research in stabilizing Wolfsbane Potion had not been as inspiring as she'd hoped. Ron, a last-minute invite because he'd had an unexpected evening free, had been less than impressed by Malfoy's absence. He'd said quite a few things about Malfoy until she'd threatened to stop helping him and Harry study for their annual evaluations.
In short, curling-up and cuddling were not things that Hermione expected from Draco Malfoy. They did, however, fit his new form. She frowned in contemplation. If Malfoy was no longer thinking like himself, then he'd be of no help in fixing this problem. She walked around to Malfoy's side of their long, central workbench to see what evidence was left behind. She found exactly what she expected; a pile of expensive clothing, dragon-hide boots, and his wand lay tumbled on the floor, while his work area held a series of experiment notes and a boiling cauldron whose contents were a vile shade of purple. Hermione cast a Bubble-Head Charm over herself and Malfoy, as well as a Shield Charm on the cauldron, just in case fumes or splash-over had caused this unexpected transformation. She leaned over the workbench and peered at Malfoy's notes. His personal side-project was trying to create a version of the Polyjuice Potion that handled the transformation to animals without significant side effects.
Hermione looked down at the ferret curled in her arms; it looked like he'd been successful on that count. What was unclear was why he'd transformed. He knew better than to test anything on himself, at least not without extensive study and supervision. Hermione's frown deepened. It was unclear what had gone wrong, but diagnosing it would have to wait until Malfoy could talk again. She turned back to his notes. It seemed that he'd increased its strength to aid his efforts in enhancing the potion's transformative powers; given when she'd left and returned, they around two hours before—hopefully—the potion faded and Malfoy returned to his normal state.
Malfoy wiggled in her arms and Hermione looked around for a comfortable chair. He was actually pretty heavy, for a ferret, but she didn't want to turn him loose on the lab's floor. Hermione canceled their Bubble-Head Charms and settled in on a mostly-comfortable wooden chair near the far end of the lab, prepared to wait. It was past nine o'clock on a Friday, so it was unlikely that anyone else would drop by the lab. If they were lucky, Malfoy's accident would be undone by midnight and no one would be the wiser.
As she settled in, she turned her attention to the ferret curled up in her lap. Like his originating form, he was pale and lithely muscled. Hermione supposed that if she were a lady-ferret, she'd probably find him attractive. After all, she found him fiendishly so in human form. It had taken her a while to admit it to herself, but after they'd settled into a somewhat friendship, Hermione had realized that without his ghastly childhood personality—thankfully lost after the war—he found Malfoy's looks and build incredibly appealing. She could have played for England if there was a team for surreptitiously drooling over your research partner. Instead, 'look, but don't touch' had become her motto in regards to her stand-offish, sometimes-friend. He'd never given her any inclination that he reciprocated her regard, and she appreciated their relationship too much to damage it with a poorly-conceived flirtation.
After all, like his current form, Malfoy was always quick to wriggle and run from anything he didn't like. Keen and cunning, he was a good fellow to have around for plotting and discussion, but probably not the best one to have at one's side in a fight. Of course, by the time the fight came around he'd probably already figured out how exactly he'd achieve his goal without being present at all. Fur aside, perhaps the one real difference between his human form and his current ferret shape was that ferret-Malfoy was looking at her as if she was his best friend, playmate and Christmas present all rolled up in one. Hermione had never seen such an expression on Malfoy's human face, but he was currently looking at her so expectantly, as if he just wanted to be adored. Perhaps that was mostly the combined effect of delicate whiskers, rounded ears, tiny paws and a wriggly nose, but he was irresistibly cute.
Hermione couldn't help herself. She lightly ran one finger up his muzzle. He shivered and Hermione felt guilty. He was still Malfoy, even if he currently looked and thought like a ferret. She lifted her hand away, and he head-butted her fingers.
“I stopped, sorry!” She raised both her hands away from her lap. Malfoy looked at her with narrowed eyes and Hermione stifled a giggle. It was such a Malfoy-like expression, even on a ferret's face. To her surprise, he reared up and placed his paws on her collarbone and started bumping his head against her closest hand.
“What, what is it?” Hermione moved to cradle him in her hands, afraid that he was going to hurt himself. To her astonishment, once she'd moved her hands closer, he stopped thrashing around and instead pressed closer to her hands. It felt as though he were trying to curl up against them. Hermione lowered her hands and the ferret that was now cradled in them.
As he was lowered back onto her lap, Malfoy curled himself around her hand, wrapping his paws around her fingers. He nibbled on her thumb. Hermione gave in and giggled. It was just too cute, seeing her normally aloof and distant partner melt like putty in her hands.
“You really like that, don't you?” Malfoy wriggled closer. Hermione gently ran a finger down his side. Malfoy rolled over, seeking more contact with her hand. Hermione bit her lip. He was just too fuzzy and adorable. She lightly ran her fingers down his belly, drawing her fingers through his soft fur.
Malfoy writhed around on her lap in ferrety ecstasy. What she was doing finally broke through the ferret-induced adorableness haze and Hermione blushed.
Where was her common sense? She was putting her hands all over her research partner. She pulled back her hands. The ferret cracked one eye open and starting making what sounded like displeased noises.
Hermione huffed. “Stop it, this is grossly inappropriate conduct between colleagues.” She shook a finger at the ferret, who appeared to be sulking. He'd turned over onto his paws and was now calling for attention loudly as he scrabbled at her robes.
Hermione could hear the threads snap, but she was more concerned about Malfoy's switch from content sprawling to sulky thrashing. Even if he was currently thinking like an animal, it didn't mean she had to pet him just to keep him in line. “Don't make me put a collar on you,” she warned. Malfoy started bouncing in her lap. “Don't think I won't follow through. I have one, you know.” Malfoy landed on her lap and stumbled.
Hermione was mortified. Stupid lack of sleep, stupid lack of tea, stupid, stupid backfired experiment. Now she was making inadvertent confessions about her sex life to ferret-Malfoy, when she'd tried quite hard to not to mention her extra-curricular activities even to her closest friends. What was next, asking him if he wanted to go collar shopping? She tried to imagine a ferret Malfoy in a harness and collar, but her mind rapidly went from picturing nylon on white fur to imagining smooth leather clipped around his pale, straining neck.
Hermione ran that thought back over once again and wondered if was possible for humans to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eye for weeks without that particular—deeply attractive, her traitorous mind whispered—image burning at the back of her thoughts. Her only reassurance was that even if Malfoy had somehow retained his mind—and he showed no sign of having done so, from his actions—there were no recorded cases of transformed wizards being able to perform Legilimency. Malfoy wiggled in her lap, dragging her back to her present predicament.
“Gods.” Hermione groaned and held her head in her hands. “Malfoy, we've been at work for twelve hours. It's going to be another two—I think—before the potion wears off. I know you can't understand me, but I'm tired, my head hurts, and I'm trying very hard not to be cranky.” As well as not imagine you in bondage. “I'm also hoping that my favorite research partner isn't going to be my next emergency project and that you won't murder me when you transform back. I hope that you won't remember a thing that I've said, for many unfortunate reasons. So, please, if there's any corner of your little ferrety brain that understands me, be calm.”
Mafoy stopped moving. Whether he'd gotten tired or somehow understood her was unclear. Either way, he curled up on her lap and closed his eyes. Within a few moments, his breathing leveled out and it appeared that he'd gone to sleep.
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair. She really should move him, but she didn't have the heart. Where could she put a ferret in the cold, drafty lab? The counters were full of hazardous or sensitive material, usually not a problem for anyone wearing gloves, but Malfoy's fur was another question. She didn't want him running around on the floor, because it was cold, dark and what if against all odds, someone came in and saw him? He could be mistaken for an escaped lab rat. On that note, the holding cages for familiars and test subjects were flat out. Never mind what Malfoy would say if she put him in a cage, it was dangerous to put a size-changed experimental subject in a confined space. No, he'd have to stay on her lap, at least until right before he changed back. She looked down at her sleeping colleague.
It was had been an extraordinarily long day. It was still about two hours until she estimated the potion would wear off. Two hours was a long time. She could close her eyes for a minute. She was just resting them, really.
---
Hermione dreamed that she was being crushed under a giant, squirming elephant. The elephant, ungrateful enough to crush her, compounded things by smacking her in the head. She opened her eyes. She found herself with a lap full of extremely naked, horrified Draco Malfoy. There was naked Malfoy everywhere, in her arms, on her lap, and only a few inches from her face. Hermione screamed and shoved him off her lap. Very naked falling-off-her-lap Malfoy hit the floor with a thud.
“Fuck, that hurt,” he swore.
Hermione covered her eyes in embarrassment. He must have just changed back; he was probably as confused as she had been, if not more. Concern cut through own rising sense of mortification. Hermione cracked her fingers and peered at where he was picking himself off the floor at her feet. “Are you all right, Malfoy?”
“No thanks to you, Granger,” he said sulkily.
“I'm sorry, you startled me.” It was a terrible excuse. Why, oh why, had she given into weakness and originally closed her eyes? She should have set a timer of some sort, or at least realized that there was a serious danger of her falling asleep. Hermione realized that she'd gone from checking Malfoy for injuries to, well, checking him out and squeezed her fingers shut. She closed her eyes for an extra measure. Resisting temptation was not one of her finer points when it was nearly midnight.
“Where the fuck are my clothes?”
Hermione gestured vaguely with her free hand, pointing where she knew their worktable was located. “They're right where you left them, on the floor. Oh, do keep an eye out for the cauldron. I've put a Shield Charm up around it.”
She heard him pad around toward the workbench, followed by the sound of clothing being picked up and shaken out. She tried very, very hard not to imagine what he currently looked like. She heard the whisper of clothing being pulled on.
“Oh, fuck, they're cold.”
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if that had any effect on what was happening in her mind. She heard the rustling stop, and then two thumps. Probably his boots being pulled on. She heard him walk her way and then stop.
“You can stop covering your eyes, Granger. I'm decent.”
Hermione cautiously peeked out from behind her hand. Malfoy was standing in front of her, fully clothed, looking quite disgruntled. She dropped her hands and rose from the chair, stepping a bit to the side as she worked a crick out from her back. That chair had not been designed for naps.
“Decent is a relative term, Malfoy.” Sarcasm was always a nice refuge in awkward situations. “Would you mind telling me what happened?”
He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, something he usually did before he was about to confess that he'd made an embarrassing mistake. “I sneezed.”
“You what?”
“I was working over the cauldron, and I sneezed.” He looked just about embarrassed as he could get. “It must have been volatile enough have transformed into to a fumes-based agent and I breathed in just enough, or I accidentally kicked some up and got it in my mouth.”
Hermione groaned. “What have I told you about using Bubble-Head Charms when you're unsure about the stability of an experiment?”
“Oh come off it, Granger. Polyjuice has never worked like that before,” he groused. “Besides, you had the foreknowledge that something had gone wrong before you cast a Bubble-Head yourself.”
Hermione went cold. No need to panic, he could just be assuming. She devoutly hoped that Draco was simply deducing what she'd done; she'd lectured him enough times in the past on lab safety protocols, Bubble-Head Charms included, and her current un-furred state was a pretty good clue that she hadn't fallen victim to the potion's effects.
“Besides, you hadn't gone home yet. It's not like you'd have left me in such a predicament.” He paused and cleared his throat; his eyes darted to the side and he looked almost nervous. “After all, I am your favorite research partner.”
Hermione's stomach plummeted; even if he hadn't been in control of his actions, it appeared that he remembered his time as a ferret. She stammered out a reply. “Malfoy, I'm truly sorry for anything I said or did. It's late, I was tired, and I wasn't thinking—”
If only the earth would open up and swallow her whole. Alas, the Ministry probably had wards to prevent that sort of thing, but maybe if Hermione wished hard enough, some magical creature would take pity on her and spirit her away in order to eat her. Where was a quintaped when one needed one? Either that or she'd be tempted to Obliviate herself and Malfoy before this evening was over. It would be hugely unethical, but sometimes the ends justified the means.
He waved off her apology. “I wasn't complaining, Granger. Horrific as this evening has been—” He trailed off, but then swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Well, if it was the only way I was going to get your hands all over me, then I'd consider it a fair trade.”
Hermione's jaw dropped. Maybe she was still dreaming. It was possible; so far she'd had Malfoy naked on her lap, then admitting that he'd done something wrong, and then confessing that he wanted her. It did sound like a rather odd, realistic fantasy.
She collected her scattered thoughts and spoke slowly. “Look, as flattering as that is to hear, you've just spent the last two hours as a ferret, so I really don't think that you're in a position to—” His shoulders were slumping. He was even doing that horrible thing that he did when he felt insecure, where he looked down and off to the side. Hermione started talking faster. “I mean, it's not as if I think you're not attractive, it's just that—”
His head snapped up; he looked at her intently. “You think I'm attractive?”
“Of course, I mean, why wouldn't—I mean, anyone of reasonable judgment would notice—” What were the words coming out of her mouth? Oh gods. Oh gods.
Draco started to smirk. “So, you think I'm attractive, I've told you that I want your hands on me, and you're still not willing to do anything about it?” He started stalking towards her.
Hermione scooted backwards until she bumped into the wall. “Malfoy, you're attractive in a very aesthetically pleasing way, not necessarily a throw-you-down-and-shag-you manner—” What was she saying, what was she saying. “—not that I think anyone would have any objections to doing so.” That was it. Her mouth was fired.
Malfoy was now standing in front of her and smirking in that obnoxious, prat-like, utterly irresistible way. “I have a theory, Granger. My theory is that you want me, but you're too scared to anything about it.” He leaned in. “Come now, where's that famous Gryffindor courage?” He was practically purring by now. “Do you have any objections to 'throwing me down and shagging me,' as you so charmingly put it?”
Hermione's throat was dry. “Isn't this rather unsubtle for a Slytherin? I thought you lot were supposed to be cleverer than this.”
“You still haven't answered my question.”
She cursed him for not overlooking that fact; she knew from experience that once he'd gotten a conversational edge, he was absolutely tenacious. There was no way she was escaping this lab without answering that question, or else he'd publicly hound her about it for weeks. What was the worst that could happen? He'd laugh and turn her down? Hermione could handle with it; she'd handled with worse. The question hung unanswered between them: Did she have any objections to throwing Draco Malfoy down and shagging him? Hermione raised her chin and looked at him squarely.
“No, I do not.” There, she'd said it. Merlin help her.
“Good. Because neither do I.”
He moved forward, and Hermione found herself pinned against the wall while being kissed enthusiastically. Her shock rapidly wore off and she reached out and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him closer. Sweet Merlin, it was just as fantastic as she'd imagined. He was good with that tongue. She decided to see if his body felt as good as it looked. Her hands parted his robes and slid up his chest. He groaned and kissed her harder. She was going to have bruises on her backside at this rate, but it was worth it.
They broke apart. She was gasping. “Why didn't you say something sooner?”
“I thought I was being bloody obvious, actually.” He sounded more than a little short of breath himself.
“I meant beforehand.”
“I was talking about beforehand.”
She glared at him. “You were not obvious at all. I was beginning to think that I'd done something wrong and that you were avoiding me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget that we Slytherins sometimes have to lower ourselves to being extraordinarily obvious for the benefit of you lot. Really, Granger. I left you enough hints. I thought that you'd have figured it out now.”
“Maybe I just don't like to be left guessing.”
“Displeased?” He leaned in and whispered, “Remind me again. What was that threat? 'Don't make me put a collar on you,' I think it was.”
Images of him chained to her bed flickered through her mind. She stifled a moan.
“I like the sound of that,” he murmured. She could feel him press against her hip. “Don't you have any follow-through, Granger? Or am I going to have to really misbehave?” His tone was confident, but she could easily see the blush that spread across his face.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise and then her lips quirked into a very Slytherin-like smirk. She slowly pulled her hands out from under his robes, trailing them over his chest as she did so. She could feel his heart hammering. She adjusted his robes and was very proud to notice that her hands weren't shaking too noticeably. When she was finished, she slowly pushed on his chest with a finger. He reluctantly stepped back.
“The British Museum, tomorrow, twelve o'clock sharp.” She looked at him archly. “You'd better be there, Malfoy, or you'll never find out the truth about that collar.”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world, Granger.” His expression matched her own. “Ah, one more thing.” He turned back to the worktable and aimed his wand. The fire under the cauldron went out. He looked at the seething purple mass speculatively. “Shield Charm?”
Hermione nodded.
“I think we're too tired to handle it safely, for now.” He said, which had been her assessment as well. “And, although I'm sure your charm work is excellent as usual, we wouldn't want it to break before Monday. Protego Duo.”
They gathered their belongings and locked down the lab. As the torches flickered off behind them, Hermione sighed. “Shame about the potion. It was a very promising test, and I'm sure that you'll be able to figure out why it renders the subject's thoughts animal-like.”
Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked at him curiously.
“Actually, I was completely in control of myself the entire time.” He smirked. “I must say, you have the most talented hands.”
“Draco!”
Her shout echoed through the corridor. As she took in his wicked grin, Hermione pursed her lips speculatively and then smiled. This weekend, perhaps she'd break out the collar after all.
Rating: T
Pairing: Dramione
Notes: Rough, rough drafts. Will get beta'd and britpicked later.
Hermione couldn't help it. She laughed.
It was a terrible response to the situation, but what else could she do? She'd come back to their research lab after a fruitless search for an unlocked break-room, only to find her pale, sharp-featured partner replaced by a pale, scurrying ferret. At the sound of her laughter, the ferret—Malfoy—stopped running across the floor. He looked up. If any ferret could look indignant, it was him.
“Oh, Malfoy.” She bent over and gently scooped up the white ferret. He wriggled in her grasp, but made no attempt at escape. “What have you done?” She held him against her, and to her surprise, he curled-up against her robes. Hermione frowned. Usually a wizard's mind was unaltered by a transfiguration or a potion-induced change, but this was very uncharacteristic behavior for Malfoy. Unfathomable might be more accurate.
They'd worked together for almost two years in the Ministry's Experimental Restricted Potions research lab, as part of an unofficial division of the Department of Mysteries. To her surprise, after some initial rough patches they'd gotten along well. They'd settled into a routine of going out for lunch in Diagon Alley twice a week, hitting up a Muggle pub at least once a month, and even venturing out for a weekend jaunt around London once or twice a season. However, lately it seemed that all her other invitations were ignored.
She'd offered him one of a set of tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, a gift from Viktor and his team; Malfoy had unexpectedly needed to be out of the country on the day of the game. When McLaggen had shown up in the lab to personally invite-slash-command them to a Ministry-wide retreat, Malfoy had pleaded family duties; she'd been forced to spend the entire retreat watching McLaggen hunt Nogtails and fending off his advances. Only just last week he'd had abandoned her during the International Potions Research Conference awards, leaving her flustered at the podium when she accepted their joint Libatius Borage Award, First Class. She felt that her subsequent speech about the need to continue research in stabilizing Wolfsbane Potion had not been as inspiring as she'd hoped. Ron, a last-minute invite because he'd had an unexpected evening free, had been less than impressed by Malfoy's absence. He'd said quite a few things about Malfoy until she'd threatened to stop helping him and Harry study for their annual evaluations.
In short, curling-up and cuddling were not things that Hermione expected from Draco Malfoy. They did, however, fit his new form. She frowned in contemplation. If Malfoy was no longer thinking like himself, then he'd be of no help in fixing this problem. She walked around to Malfoy's side of their long, central workbench to see what evidence was left behind. She found exactly what she expected; a pile of expensive clothing, dragon-hide boots, and his wand lay tumbled on the floor, while his work area held a series of experiment notes and a boiling cauldron whose contents were a vile shade of purple. Hermione cast a Bubble-Head Charm over herself and Malfoy, as well as a Shield Charm on the cauldron, just in case fumes or splash-over had caused this unexpected transformation. She leaned over the workbench and peered at Malfoy's notes. His personal side-project was trying to create a version of the Polyjuice Potion that handled the transformation to animals without significant side effects.
Hermione looked down at the ferret curled in her arms; it looked like he'd been successful on that count. What was unclear was why he'd transformed. He knew better than to test anything on himself, at least not without extensive study and supervision. Hermione's frown deepened. It was unclear what had gone wrong, but diagnosing it would have to wait until Malfoy could talk again. She turned back to his notes. It seemed that he'd increased its strength to aid his efforts in enhancing the potion's transformative powers; given when she'd left and returned, they around two hours before—hopefully—the potion faded and Malfoy returned to his normal state.
Malfoy wiggled in her arms and Hermione looked around for a comfortable chair. He was actually pretty heavy, for a ferret, but she didn't want to turn him loose on the lab's floor. Hermione canceled their Bubble-Head Charms and settled in on a mostly-comfortable wooden chair near the far end of the lab, prepared to wait. It was past nine o'clock on a Friday, so it was unlikely that anyone else would drop by the lab. If they were lucky, Malfoy's accident would be undone by midnight and no one would be the wiser.
As she settled in, she turned her attention to the ferret curled up in her lap. Like his originating form, he was pale and lithely muscled. Hermione supposed that if she were a lady-ferret, she'd probably find him attractive. After all, she found him fiendishly so in human form. It had taken her a while to admit it to herself, but after they'd settled into a somewhat friendship, Hermione had realized that without his ghastly childhood personality—thankfully lost after the war—he found Malfoy's looks and build incredibly appealing. She could have played for England if there was a team for surreptitiously drooling over your research partner. Instead, 'look, but don't touch' had become her motto in regards to her stand-offish, sometimes-friend. He'd never given her any inclination that he reciprocated her regard, and she appreciated their relationship too much to damage it with a poorly-conceived flirtation.
After all, like his current form, Malfoy was always quick to wriggle and run from anything he didn't like. Keen and cunning, he was a good fellow to have around for plotting and discussion, but probably not the best one to have at one's side in a fight. Of course, by the time the fight came around he'd probably already figured out how exactly he'd achieve his goal without being present at all. Fur aside, perhaps the one real difference between his human form and his current ferret shape was that ferret-Malfoy was looking at her as if she was his best friend, playmate and Christmas present all rolled up in one. Hermione had never seen such an expression on Malfoy's human face, but he was currently looking at her so expectantly, as if he just wanted to be adored. Perhaps that was mostly the combined effect of delicate whiskers, rounded ears, tiny paws and a wriggly nose, but he was irresistibly cute.
Hermione couldn't help herself. She lightly ran one finger up his muzzle. He shivered and Hermione felt guilty. He was still Malfoy, even if he currently looked and thought like a ferret. She lifted her hand away, and he head-butted her fingers.
“I stopped, sorry!” She raised both her hands away from her lap. Malfoy looked at her with narrowed eyes and Hermione stifled a giggle. It was such a Malfoy-like expression, even on a ferret's face. To her surprise, he reared up and placed his paws on her collarbone and started bumping his head against her closest hand.
“What, what is it?” Hermione moved to cradle him in her hands, afraid that he was going to hurt himself. To her astonishment, once she'd moved her hands closer, he stopped thrashing around and instead pressed closer to her hands. It felt as though he were trying to curl up against them. Hermione lowered her hands and the ferret that was now cradled in them.
As he was lowered back onto her lap, Malfoy curled himself around her hand, wrapping his paws around her fingers. He nibbled on her thumb. Hermione gave in and giggled. It was just too cute, seeing her normally aloof and distant partner melt like putty in her hands.
“You really like that, don't you?” Malfoy wriggled closer. Hermione gently ran a finger down his side. Malfoy rolled over, seeking more contact with her hand. Hermione bit her lip. He was just too fuzzy and adorable. She lightly ran her fingers down his belly, drawing her fingers through his soft fur.
Malfoy writhed around on her lap in ferrety ecstasy. What she was doing finally broke through the ferret-induced adorableness haze and Hermione blushed.
Where was her common sense? She was putting her hands all over her research partner. She pulled back her hands. The ferret cracked one eye open and starting making what sounded like displeased noises.
Hermione huffed. “Stop it, this is grossly inappropriate conduct between colleagues.” She shook a finger at the ferret, who appeared to be sulking. He'd turned over onto his paws and was now calling for attention loudly as he scrabbled at her robes.
Hermione could hear the threads snap, but she was more concerned about Malfoy's switch from content sprawling to sulky thrashing. Even if he was currently thinking like an animal, it didn't mean she had to pet him just to keep him in line. “Don't make me put a collar on you,” she warned. Malfoy started bouncing in her lap. “Don't think I won't follow through. I have one, you know.” Malfoy landed on her lap and stumbled.
Hermione was mortified. Stupid lack of sleep, stupid lack of tea, stupid, stupid backfired experiment. Now she was making inadvertent confessions about her sex life to ferret-Malfoy, when she'd tried quite hard to not to mention her extra-curricular activities even to her closest friends. What was next, asking him if he wanted to go collar shopping? She tried to imagine a ferret Malfoy in a harness and collar, but her mind rapidly went from picturing nylon on white fur to imagining smooth leather clipped around his pale, straining neck.
Hermione ran that thought back over once again and wondered if was possible for humans to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. She wouldn't be able to look him in the eye for weeks without that particular—deeply attractive, her traitorous mind whispered—image burning at the back of her thoughts. Her only reassurance was that even if Malfoy had somehow retained his mind—and he showed no sign of having done so, from his actions—there were no recorded cases of transformed wizards being able to perform Legilimency. Malfoy wiggled in her lap, dragging her back to her present predicament.
“Gods.” Hermione groaned and held her head in her hands. “Malfoy, we've been at work for twelve hours. It's going to be another two—I think—before the potion wears off. I know you can't understand me, but I'm tired, my head hurts, and I'm trying very hard not to be cranky.” As well as not imagine you in bondage. “I'm also hoping that my favorite research partner isn't going to be my next emergency project and that you won't murder me when you transform back. I hope that you won't remember a thing that I've said, for many unfortunate reasons. So, please, if there's any corner of your little ferrety brain that understands me, be calm.”
Mafoy stopped moving. Whether he'd gotten tired or somehow understood her was unclear. Either way, he curled up on her lap and closed his eyes. Within a few moments, his breathing leveled out and it appeared that he'd gone to sleep.
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair. She really should move him, but she didn't have the heart. Where could she put a ferret in the cold, drafty lab? The counters were full of hazardous or sensitive material, usually not a problem for anyone wearing gloves, but Malfoy's fur was another question. She didn't want him running around on the floor, because it was cold, dark and what if against all odds, someone came in and saw him? He could be mistaken for an escaped lab rat. On that note, the holding cages for familiars and test subjects were flat out. Never mind what Malfoy would say if she put him in a cage, it was dangerous to put a size-changed experimental subject in a confined space. No, he'd have to stay on her lap, at least until right before he changed back. She looked down at her sleeping colleague.
It was had been an extraordinarily long day. It was still about two hours until she estimated the potion would wear off. Two hours was a long time. She could close her eyes for a minute. She was just resting them, really.
---
Hermione dreamed that she was being crushed under a giant, squirming elephant. The elephant, ungrateful enough to crush her, compounded things by smacking her in the head. She opened her eyes. She found herself with a lap full of extremely naked, horrified Draco Malfoy. There was naked Malfoy everywhere, in her arms, on her lap, and only a few inches from her face. Hermione screamed and shoved him off her lap. Very naked falling-off-her-lap Malfoy hit the floor with a thud.
“Fuck, that hurt,” he swore.
Hermione covered her eyes in embarrassment. He must have just changed back; he was probably as confused as she had been, if not more. Concern cut through own rising sense of mortification. Hermione cracked her fingers and peered at where he was picking himself off the floor at her feet. “Are you all right, Malfoy?”
“No thanks to you, Granger,” he said sulkily.
“I'm sorry, you startled me.” It was a terrible excuse. Why, oh why, had she given into weakness and originally closed her eyes? She should have set a timer of some sort, or at least realized that there was a serious danger of her falling asleep. Hermione realized that she'd gone from checking Malfoy for injuries to, well, checking him out and squeezed her fingers shut. She closed her eyes for an extra measure. Resisting temptation was not one of her finer points when it was nearly midnight.
“Where the fuck are my clothes?”
Hermione gestured vaguely with her free hand, pointing where she knew their worktable was located. “They're right where you left them, on the floor. Oh, do keep an eye out for the cauldron. I've put a Shield Charm up around it.”
She heard him pad around toward the workbench, followed by the sound of clothing being picked up and shaken out. She tried very, very hard not to imagine what he currently looked like. She heard the whisper of clothing being pulled on.
“Oh, fuck, they're cold.”
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if that had any effect on what was happening in her mind. She heard the rustling stop, and then two thumps. Probably his boots being pulled on. She heard him walk her way and then stop.
“You can stop covering your eyes, Granger. I'm decent.”
Hermione cautiously peeked out from behind her hand. Malfoy was standing in front of her, fully clothed, looking quite disgruntled. She dropped her hands and rose from the chair, stepping a bit to the side as she worked a crick out from her back. That chair had not been designed for naps.
“Decent is a relative term, Malfoy.” Sarcasm was always a nice refuge in awkward situations. “Would you mind telling me what happened?”
He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, something he usually did before he was about to confess that he'd made an embarrassing mistake. “I sneezed.”
“You what?”
“I was working over the cauldron, and I sneezed.” He looked just about embarrassed as he could get. “It must have been volatile enough have transformed into to a fumes-based agent and I breathed in just enough, or I accidentally kicked some up and got it in my mouth.”
Hermione groaned. “What have I told you about using Bubble-Head Charms when you're unsure about the stability of an experiment?”
“Oh come off it, Granger. Polyjuice has never worked like that before,” he groused. “Besides, you had the foreknowledge that something had gone wrong before you cast a Bubble-Head yourself.”
Hermione went cold. No need to panic, he could just be assuming. She devoutly hoped that Draco was simply deducing what she'd done; she'd lectured him enough times in the past on lab safety protocols, Bubble-Head Charms included, and her current un-furred state was a pretty good clue that she hadn't fallen victim to the potion's effects.
“Besides, you hadn't gone home yet. It's not like you'd have left me in such a predicament.” He paused and cleared his throat; his eyes darted to the side and he looked almost nervous. “After all, I am your favorite research partner.”
Hermione's stomach plummeted; even if he hadn't been in control of his actions, it appeared that he remembered his time as a ferret. She stammered out a reply. “Malfoy, I'm truly sorry for anything I said or did. It's late, I was tired, and I wasn't thinking—”
If only the earth would open up and swallow her whole. Alas, the Ministry probably had wards to prevent that sort of thing, but maybe if Hermione wished hard enough, some magical creature would take pity on her and spirit her away in order to eat her. Where was a quintaped when one needed one? Either that or she'd be tempted to Obliviate herself and Malfoy before this evening was over. It would be hugely unethical, but sometimes the ends justified the means.
He waved off her apology. “I wasn't complaining, Granger. Horrific as this evening has been—” He trailed off, but then swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Well, if it was the only way I was going to get your hands all over me, then I'd consider it a fair trade.”
Hermione's jaw dropped. Maybe she was still dreaming. It was possible; so far she'd had Malfoy naked on her lap, then admitting that he'd done something wrong, and then confessing that he wanted her. It did sound like a rather odd, realistic fantasy.
She collected her scattered thoughts and spoke slowly. “Look, as flattering as that is to hear, you've just spent the last two hours as a ferret, so I really don't think that you're in a position to—” His shoulders were slumping. He was even doing that horrible thing that he did when he felt insecure, where he looked down and off to the side. Hermione started talking faster. “I mean, it's not as if I think you're not attractive, it's just that—”
His head snapped up; he looked at her intently. “You think I'm attractive?”
“Of course, I mean, why wouldn't—I mean, anyone of reasonable judgment would notice—” What were the words coming out of her mouth? Oh gods. Oh gods.
Draco started to smirk. “So, you think I'm attractive, I've told you that I want your hands on me, and you're still not willing to do anything about it?” He started stalking towards her.
Hermione scooted backwards until she bumped into the wall. “Malfoy, you're attractive in a very aesthetically pleasing way, not necessarily a throw-you-down-and-shag-you manner—” What was she saying, what was she saying. “—not that I think anyone would have any objections to doing so.” That was it. Her mouth was fired.
Malfoy was now standing in front of her and smirking in that obnoxious, prat-like, utterly irresistible way. “I have a theory, Granger. My theory is that you want me, but you're too scared to anything about it.” He leaned in. “Come now, where's that famous Gryffindor courage?” He was practically purring by now. “Do you have any objections to 'throwing me down and shagging me,' as you so charmingly put it?”
Hermione's throat was dry. “Isn't this rather unsubtle for a Slytherin? I thought you lot were supposed to be cleverer than this.”
“You still haven't answered my question.”
She cursed him for not overlooking that fact; she knew from experience that once he'd gotten a conversational edge, he was absolutely tenacious. There was no way she was escaping this lab without answering that question, or else he'd publicly hound her about it for weeks. What was the worst that could happen? He'd laugh and turn her down? Hermione could handle with it; she'd handled with worse. The question hung unanswered between them: Did she have any objections to throwing Draco Malfoy down and shagging him? Hermione raised her chin and looked at him squarely.
“No, I do not.” There, she'd said it. Merlin help her.
“Good. Because neither do I.”
He moved forward, and Hermione found herself pinned against the wall while being kissed enthusiastically. Her shock rapidly wore off and she reached out and grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him closer. Sweet Merlin, it was just as fantastic as she'd imagined. He was good with that tongue. She decided to see if his body felt as good as it looked. Her hands parted his robes and slid up his chest. He groaned and kissed her harder. She was going to have bruises on her backside at this rate, but it was worth it.
They broke apart. She was gasping. “Why didn't you say something sooner?”
“I thought I was being bloody obvious, actually.” He sounded more than a little short of breath himself.
“I meant beforehand.”
“I was talking about beforehand.”
She glared at him. “You were not obvious at all. I was beginning to think that I'd done something wrong and that you were avoiding me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Forgive me, sometimes I forget that we Slytherins sometimes have to lower ourselves to being extraordinarily obvious for the benefit of you lot. Really, Granger. I left you enough hints. I thought that you'd have figured it out now.”
“Maybe I just don't like to be left guessing.”
“Displeased?” He leaned in and whispered, “Remind me again. What was that threat? 'Don't make me put a collar on you,' I think it was.”
Images of him chained to her bed flickered through her mind. She stifled a moan.
“I like the sound of that,” he murmured. She could feel him press against her hip. “Don't you have any follow-through, Granger? Or am I going to have to really misbehave?” His tone was confident, but she could easily see the blush that spread across his face.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise and then her lips quirked into a very Slytherin-like smirk. She slowly pulled her hands out from under his robes, trailing them over his chest as she did so. She could feel his heart hammering. She adjusted his robes and was very proud to notice that her hands weren't shaking too noticeably. When she was finished, she slowly pushed on his chest with a finger. He reluctantly stepped back.
“The British Museum, tomorrow, twelve o'clock sharp.” She looked at him archly. “You'd better be there, Malfoy, or you'll never find out the truth about that collar.”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world, Granger.” His expression matched her own. “Ah, one more thing.” He turned back to the worktable and aimed his wand. The fire under the cauldron went out. He looked at the seething purple mass speculatively. “Shield Charm?”
Hermione nodded.
“I think we're too tired to handle it safely, for now.” He said, which had been her assessment as well. “And, although I'm sure your charm work is excellent as usual, we wouldn't want it to break before Monday. Protego Duo.”
They gathered their belongings and locked down the lab. As the torches flickered off behind them, Hermione sighed. “Shame about the potion. It was a very promising test, and I'm sure that you'll be able to figure out why it renders the subject's thoughts animal-like.”
Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked at him curiously.
“Actually, I was completely in control of myself the entire time.” He smirked. “I must say, you have the most talented hands.”
“Draco!”
Her shout echoed through the corridor. As she took in his wicked grin, Hermione pursed her lips speculatively and then smiled. This weekend, perhaps she'd break out the collar after all.
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Date: 2011-10-28 06:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-31 03:59 pm (UTC)I totally have to get these stories beta'd and britpicked, so thank you for letting me know that they're fun enough that I should share 'em. :)
I totally have a huge soft-spot for ferret!Draco as well. He's just too fluffy and cute that way. ;)
(Ohmygosh, I love your icon!!!)
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Date: 2011-10-31 04:03 pm (UTC)Yeah, this is definitely a favorite icon, lol. Feel free to gank; the maker is credited on my icons page/list.
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Date: 2011-10-31 05:30 pm (UTC)Thanks for the icon info! :D