Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction using characters and entities from the Wizarding World trademarked by J. K. Rowling. Original plots, dialogue, and characters are ours.

SaintDionysus and MotherofBulls retain dual ownership of this piece. Because FFN's policies do not provide for a joint acknowledgement of collaborative efforts between writers, please be advised that each writer has posted the story in its totality on their respective writer pages. Reader should be advised that this is not plagiarism. It is merely an attempt for each writer to work within the antiquated, draconian policies of FFN that do not acknowledge the possibility that authors may collaborate.

A/N: OMG we are actually together in the same damn place writing this thing. Yeah. We are totally drunk too.

Chapter Summary : This is the end. This is all we got. The pot is empty. No more soup.

Beta: We don't need no stinking beta. We are drunk and you have to read all our typos.

"Mother f**king, c**ting, sh*t hole, arse h*le! With all due respect, Professor, I do not need a tutor. It never works. Haven't you ever seen just one porno? It's like how 95% of them start."

Why are you censoring yourself? Everyone knows we're potty-mouthed trash heaps. {Hush ho. I'm a goddamned lady}

"Mister Malfoy." Professor Vector pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're failing. I'd rather not have your parents up my arse about your grades."

"I understand, Professor. Really I do. But what makes you think Granger will even go for th-"

"I'll do it, Professor."

{Marvelous eye roll} "Of goddamned course you will."

"Very well, Miss Granger." Vector handed her a giant stack of papers. "Here is a recap of everything Mister Malfoy has worked on over the past term. As you can seem, his marks are less than satisfactory. If he has any hope in passing his NEWTs, he has a lot to do."

Hermione flipped through the stack, scanning every line and chart. "Merlin. I take it back. He's hopeless."

"Fuck you very much, Granger. If you're just going to use this opportunity to lord your perfect swot brain over me, you can forget it."

"I don't do that. And you need this." She cast a replication charm over Vector's papers and slammed them into Draco's arms. "We'll start tomorrow. I expect you to go over every question you missed on these exams and correct them before we meet."

"It's settled." Professor Vector shooed them out of her class.

Draco prayed for death. He walked briskly out of Hermione's earshot. "I can't believe I have to bother with school while doing my duty to the Dark Lord."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Draco repeated.

Draco tapped his quill on the library desk. He hadn't slept properly in days. He'd even resorted to taking something Granger called "Am-bien?" He woke up doing backstrokes in the Black Lake, but he couldn't remember doing any sleeping. He felt wretched. All of the swotty nonsense stampeding out of Granger's mouth wasn't sticking, and she was starting to look like a bushy pillow.

"Malfoy!"

"For fuck's sake, woman, why? Why me? Why don't you terrorize Weasley. He'd fucking drink your bathwater."

"Well, I told Professor Vector that I would help you in this class. While it may not matter to you how well you get on in this class, it matters to me. If I make a commitment, I see it through. I need you to succeed."

"Oh? And why is that? You think that if you help me get good grades I'll praise you and think you're the greatest most intelligent witch ever? Oh Granger, you're so wonderful. I'll stop working as a Baby Death Eater and join you."

"Baby Death Eater?"

"Oh-my-God-Granger-will-you-stop-talking-to-yourself! My point is, this is boring, you're the worst, and I'm wasting my youth in this library."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, but I want to be Head Girl one day, so like it or not, I'm going to help you pass Arithmancy because this is precisely the sort of thing a Head Girl would do."

"Oh, Merlin. Even your ambitions are boring. I can't take this. I'm going for a fly."

"What is it I need to do to get you to concentrate on your studies? Get your favorite snack? Change locations? Calming music?"

He snickered and devised something he knew for certain she would never, ever do in a million years. "If you fly around the quidditch pitch wearing green lingerie and a slytherin robe, I'll do whatever you want. I'll pass this bloody class and give you all the credit for my success."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his request. "Is that all boys think about? How to get girls in their knickers."

"Not at all. Mostly we think about how to get them out of their knickers. And seeing as you're a marmish little prude, that's obviously not going to happen here. Waste of a good porno if I do say so myself, but that's life for you."

"Where are you going?"

Draco, who had begun to gather his things and stand to leave the library paused at her question. "We had a deal. You wouldn't do it."

"We absolutely did not have a deal, and I never said I wouldn't do it."

"Suit yourself. I'm still headed out to the pitch. I need some air."

Indignantly, Hermione sat there with her arms crossed watching him walk away. "That rat-faced little bastard. Who does he think he is?" As she grumbled, hating how he could be so… so… "FINE!"

The bellow that came from Granger was so startling, everyone whipped their heads around to see who it had come from.

Draco turned slowly. "Problem, Granger?"

"I'll do your stupid, goddamned bet. Although, I must say, that there is nothing quite so ridiculous as a teenaged boy being so stuck up his own arse about Slytherin colors that he wants to see them on the almost naked body of a girl. That cliche never goes both ways. If our roles were reversed, I can't imagine any scenario where I would find you wearing maroon boxers arousing. It would clash horribly with your pasty skin tone. But, all that aside, if it will get you to pay attention to your work, I will wear your stupid Slytherin underwear."

He released an incredulous bark of laughter. "Holy shit, really? I was joking, Granger. I mean I wouldn't say no if you wanted to strip down to your skivies, but I never thought you'd actually do it."

She came face-to-face with him. With gritted teeth and clenched jaw, two words passed her lips letting him know she was serious. "Pitch. Now."

"Granger, you almost done?" Draco snickered outside the locker room, certain she had chickened out.

"Shut up, Malfoy. This robe is too big. I am trying to get it to fit." Hermione was fine. It took her a second to fit the robe and transfigure her underwear green. She was just trying to find the courage to step outside.

"Just use magic because it is a thing that exists and you would know that if you weren't a bloody Muggle. Either show me the goodies, or I'm leaving and the Head Girl badge shan't ever be yours because it will be known that you failed at tutoring a Baby Death Eater."

"What?"

"NOTHING, GRANGER! Strip or stuff it!"

"How dare you! Must you always be so demeaning?" She slammed the door open, exposing herself to the dumbstruck boy.

"You have tits…"

"Yes. Girls have breasts. And I see you have a penis." She pointed at his tented trousers.

"Well, great." He pouted. "I hope you're happy, Granger. Because now I'm going to have to wank to you and neither of us really want that. But there's no going back now because I've seen them, so we're just going to have to live with the fact that you're going to have a starring role in my next few orgasms."

"You're disgusting." Hermione suppressed the rising bile in her throat. "I'm going to ride your broom and get this over with."

He winced, moving his hand to the front of his trousers. "Stop saying suggestive things while you look like that. It's going to mean more Granger wanks and I already hate myself for the fact that I can't stop them from happening."

Hermione was tired of the banter and just snatched the broom out of his hand and mounted it. It took her a moment to get it to balance.

"Oi, ever heard of a little thing called consent, Granger?"

"Get over your damn self, Malfoy!" And she was off.

It took about three seconds of watching her ride his pilfered broom for Draco to realize that she actually had no idea how to ride it. "You are, and I am in no way exaggerating, Granger, the worst! You're worse than Potter. Worse than Weasley. You're stealing my future orgasms, you've stolen my broom, and now you're stealing my precious time because I have to save your arse!"

"I know. I suck at flying and hate heights. Now help me get off of this damn thing because have no idea how to land."

He thought at about it. "Accio Granger."

"AHHHHHHHHHH! MALFOY YOU COCK NUGGET!" As she fell to her certain death, the last thing she thought was that she was sorry to die a virgin.

"Got you."

She found herself draped across the arms of Draco Malfoy, delirious with her brush with death, and oddly horny.

Draco watched her boobs heaving, imagining her quivering quim; her fluttering womanhood; her dewy flower garden. "Fuck."

"Quite."

"You've got great boobs."

"You've got great arms."

"They'd look a lot better on your floor?"

"What?"

"What?" Not his best, but boo was trying. "I mean. Yeah. You look fucking hot all scared."

"What?"

"Granger, if you will just shut your beautiful mouth, I promise you I will give you something far better to do with it."

Cat is actually lying down right next to Amanda and turned on Barry White so we can write smut...

"Right. So, I guess now that we have set an arousing tone, we should do something to relieve this tension, yes?"

"It'd be advisable. For safety reasons."

"Affirmative."

"So sex? Here on the grass or in the locker room?"

"I have fantasies in both locales. Neither are exactly hygienic."

Hermione nodded. (I assume this is Hermione. My brain isn't sure who's talking anymore) "Cool, cool. So...do you like...want to carry me? Or should we just kind of walk to the locker room?"

"Eh, you're not that heavy. I mean. I could start bouncing you on my cock now as we walk to the locker room. I'm good at multitasking."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh. Oh, my God, it's like you never had a mother. Just please stop talking before I change my mind."

He pushed her panties to the side and slid a finger in. She gasped in surprise because… I mean, we all know that's what she does. She's suuuuuuuper surprised he wants to finger her before putting his dick in her.

"OH. Oh, okay. So, we're just doing this. Okay. Well, that's...nice."

"You ready?"

"Not yet. Keep going."

"Okay." Two more pumps. "How about now."

She snorted. "Okay, never mind. Let me just…" She removed his fingers from inside her. "I'll just take care of myself before we're ready. It seems safest."

"What do you mean it seems safest? Fuck that." He set her down in the grass and placed his face between her legs. Without any hesitation, his tongue began flicking and lapping at her clit, alternating with deep thrust inside her cunt.

"Ohhh! Okay, I take back what I said about you never having a mother."

He removed his mouth from her core. "Exsqueeze me, Granger?"

"I just mean you were obviously raised well."

"That's sick. Absolutely depraved. But it's a testament to just how hard i am right now that I'm willing to overlook it." He returned his mouth to her and pushed home.

Her panting became more and more frantic. "Oh god! Oh god! I'm coming!"

Draco took this as his opportunity to plunge his fingers inside her pussy as he licked her clit, the green lace bunched to the side.

Hermione became undone in an explosive, boobilicious, bouncy, top rate orgasm.

Draco high fived himself. He honestly couldn't help it.

"Did you just…"

"You came. It was an emergency."

"You're ruining all my future orgasms right now."

He kissed her mouth and it tasted like wealth, privilege, and her own lady juices. She didn't mind the latter, but the former two were quite the turn off. That was until she found a very hard, yet agile teenage cock between her legs.

"Oh. Well…"

"Can I?"

"Sure, but you should know that I'm a virgin."

His boner died. "Okay, well this was fun." He stood to button his trousers.

"What? Why are you stopping."

"Look, Granger, I don't know you that well." He buttoned his shirt. "But from the way you chase Weasley and Potter around all the time, and from just your...general existence, I believe I can rightly assume that you're a Stage 5 Clinger."

"I don't even know what that is."

"Well, I do, and all the signs are there. Anxious. Kind of hot in like a horse girl way."

"WHAT?" She shrieked, in a way that was truly ear-piercing, that every drop of blood had receded from Draco's cock back to body, and bringing oxygen back to his brain.

"Bad hair, good skin, flat arse, terrible fashion sense. Bitchy. And you just seem like the type of girl who owns a horse."

"I do not have—"

"And worst of all...obsessive. You're obsessive about everything you care about. Your grades, your friendships, house elves, Hogwarts, a Goddamned Hi8story. I can only assume your virginity would be the same way."

She huffed, still naked on the grass. "Well, if you won't take my bloody virginity, then will you at least listen to me and let me teach you Arithmancy or whatever class it is you're failing, I forget. It's like I've been talking to a broken light bulb."

"A what? Look. I don't have time for this. Thanks for the blueballs. I have somewhere to be."

She scrambled to find her clothes. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Draco. Sirius is dead." (Gross, Cat. Gross. SHAME! SHAAAAAAAAMMMEEEEEEEE!)

And baaaaad pun. HAD TO DO IT. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER. WHEN THE HELL ELSE CAN I ACTUALLY GET AWAY WITH THAT? It's not like I'll ever write a Marauder's fic. Okay, let me make up for that.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I think I'm a lesbian."

"Bully for you. Time for me to Baby Deatheat."

"What?"

"OH MY GOD, GRANGER, YOU IGNORANT SLUT, WILL YOU STOP BLOODY TALKING TO YOURSELF?"

Her eyes narrowed further in suspicion (FINALLY. Wait. Nope. Can't type. Can't spell. I suck.) (It's cool. I have spell check and Grammarly installed. Fixed.) "We're going to the library. I did the thing. Now you have to study."

A deal was a deal. He hung his head in concession.

"You're fucking kidding me." She said with annoyed astonishment. "You got every single problem right. You're not a fucking idiot. What the fuck, Malfoy?"

"Tired. Lazy. Don't want to do it. Not planning on becoming a professional astronomer or arithmancer (okay but seriously, what is he supposed to be tutored in?) Take your pick. But seriously, I need to get out of here."

"None of those are reasons for you to deliberately sabotage your grades."

He snickered. "Such a typical horse girl. Not all of us are social pariahs who remind the professor to collect homework at the end of class, you know."

"You solved this equation in record time, Malfoy. You were faster than me. You're...actually really good at Arithmancy."

He yawned. "Yeah."

"How?"

"Practical application."

"I don't know what that means."

He pouted in mockery at her confusion. "Must be terrible not knowing the answer to a problem." He booped her nose and rose from his seat. "Consider me tutored."

She sat in stunned silence as he got up from the table and threw up a deuce and sauntered out of the library. "Tell me how you're so good at Arithmancy and I'll S your D."

He stopped in his tracks. "For real?"

"For real. Unless you think I'll be a Stage 5 Clinger from that too." She crossed her arms smugly.

He rubbed his chin and thought about it. "No, no. Blowjobs don't work the same way." He held out his hand for her to shake it. "You've got yourself a deal."

"I hate myself. Please don't phrase it like that. I feel dirty."

"Oh, most definitely. Now, get your probably freckled arse out of that chair and follow me."

"Freckled? But I use sunscreen..."

"Just saying. I saw some stuff even though it was dark out. And some squats wouldn't kill you. You've a neglible arse."

She flipped him off and made a snide comment about his lopsided bollocks, freakishly tiny nipples, and early onset male pattern baldness, and the banter continued as they walked out of the library.

Draco panted as he zipped his trousers. "Okay. Did not expect you to be quite so good at that, but I must say, Granger, you certainly know your way around a penis."

Hermione rubbed her jaw, muscles sore from the exuberant exhibition of her skills. She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, stretching out the tension. "I mean, I was able to be a bit more agile since you didn't take up my whole mouth. I actually had some room to play. Not saying your dick is small, just not as girthy, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Granger, I get it. I'm not that big. Whatever. The tropes are wrong."

She stood up. "Now pay up. Why are you so good at Arithmancy."

"I'll have to show you. But I warn you. You will hate me. You will definitely want to end whatever this is between us."

"I already do."

"Oh, good. So, we're in agreement. Shall we?" He crooked his arm, she took it tentatively, and they headed to the Room of Requirement.

Her hand ran along the dusty, ornate cabinet, curious of its purpose. "What is this?"

"This is it." He shrugged.

Hermione squinted at the armoire. "It's a moldy old cabinet. I don't understand. What does this have to do with Arithmancy?"

"Everything."

"Stupid answer. Be more specific."

So he told her. Everything. Every gritty detail of what he was planning on doing. The Weasley-poisoning, the Katie Bell necklace thing, the Imperiousing Rosmerta, the Dumbledeath Plan, Occlumency lessons with Uncle Sev, that time he got a bee sting in his eye and cried for days, the one time he had a weird wet dream about a talking towel. Not all of it was exactly vital information, but he just couldn't stop talking.

Why? He didn't know. She would certainly go tell Dumbledore or Potter or someone equally incompetent. But he was in an awfully good mood after that blow job.

For real. It was a stand up blow job.

"You are totally a Baby Death Eater. I knew it! I should stupify you on the spot." She drew her wand. "I should tell Dumbledore...or Harry. But…"

He raised an eyebrow, "But?"

"This room makes me really horny for some reason. It's got this weird sexual energy. Hmm...I wonder how many students at this school popped their cherries in this room. You think you can channel sex magick here?"

"Dude, I don't know, but why the fuck would the founders put a perfectly tailored, definitely Sex Room in the middle of the bloody castle around a bunch of magical teenagers with no parental supervision? It never made sense to me."

"I read an unabridged version of Hogwarts: A History, that mentioned that Godric Gryffndor and Rowena Ravenclaw had an affair, and that Helena Ravenclaw was their love child. I bet they had their liaisons in this room."

"OH MY GOD, COULD YOU BE ANYMORE OF A HORSE GIRL, RIGHT NOW? I don't know why I'm mildly attracted to you. Must be a result of inbreeding or something. I don't know. Point is, you're a total boner killer with your overkill of unasked-for information, and I don't even care, because I still kind of feel like we should shag now."

"But...I thought...Stage 5 Clinger, remember?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah but that was before that epic BJ. You see, I was right when I said blowjobs don't work the same way. The result of a blowjob such as the one I recently received from you actually makes the bloke the clinger, if you can believe it. My bad."

"NOW WHO'S SWOTTING?"

"It's basic sex math. You would know if you were as good at I am at Arithmancy."

"OH MY GOD, STOP TALKING, I DON'T EVEN CARE. If you don't take your clothes off right now, I swear to God, not only will you not get to shag me, but I will straight up transfigure you into a summer squash and watch you rot."

"On it."

Clothing flew in all directions, kicking dust up everywhere.

"God, is there somewhere clean to fuck?" Draco coughed. Magically, a four poster with crisp clean linens presented itself. "Yes. Clean, Egyptian cotton sheets. Not silk or satin, because we're not trash bags with a false idea of what luxury is."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is so much nonsense. I should have just gone to that girl's school in Switzerland and become a dentist. By the way, if you keep up that twatty rich boy shit, I will probably back out of this, because something about you just makes me feel...lezzy. Like, I fully expect to exclusively fuck women after this. But I just have to know. Just once. God kill me, but I do."

"Cool." He jumped into the bed and landed in a puddle of pillows.

They woke.

Hermione wasn't his tutor. She wasn't a lesbian. She wasn't a virgin.

They weren't Head Students or have some bizarre student-tutor relationshiop. Draco wasn't a Death Eater. He wasn't a veela or a werewolf. Hermione wasn't a Slytherin half-blood, nor was Sirius Black her father. She also could definitely tell who someone was behind a mask.

They were just a married couple in their bed.

"Babe," he said. "I had some dreams."

"Yeah. Me too."

They both stared at the ceiling for a while.

Draco broke the silence. "Are we a weird couple?"

"For sure."

"Okay." He was silence another beat. "There are so many ways we could have gotten together. Weird, insane, unrealistic, ridiculous ways."

"Right?" She chuckled. "Or we could have just met at the grocery store. Or a bar. Or the laundromat, or any of those stupid rom-com tropes. You know, a meet-cute."

"Do you ever feel like the whole world is just a collection of tropes? Like a great big vat of…"

"Trope Soup," they both said at the same time.

They looked at each other and were silent a beat.

Hermione snorted. Draco grinned. And they started laughing into their pillows.

"Some days I hate you," Hermione said.

"Me too."

"You want to get a few more winks in?"

"Um...nah, I'm...good. I'm good on sleeping for the next several hours, I think."

"Yeah, same!"

"Yeah."

That morning, they read the newspaper and drank coffee. Draco made a silent grimace when he took his first sip, regretting that he let Hermione make it because she never ground the beans fine enough and didn't use enough of them so her coffee was always too weak. Good toast, though. He'd have to make a note to pick up that strawberry/mint jam again at the farmer's market near his office.

Hermione went to yoga after, and Draco feigned not being able to control himself when he saw her in her yoga pants. (Dude. Men love yoga pants.) She giggled on her way out the door. While she was gone, he checked his work email and turned on the telly to catch Liverpool vs. Wigan. It was a shit game.

She came back a little more relaxed. They debated where to go for lunch. In the end, she won. Thai food. He always let her win because he secretly liked Thai food, especially the sticky rice with mango dessert, but he'd rather eat a plate of his own sick than admit it.

They'd have a nooner after lunch. Missionary, but lovely. Then, they'd make another batch of coffee, and sit on opposite sides of the couch with her reading and him alternate between reading and playing Candy Crush and Wordscapes on the newest iPhone. She'd read some experimental, literary nonsense that would probably be considered a classic a hundred years from now, and he'd read what looked like a biography, but was, in fact, a YA fantasy novel with a more high-brow jacket concealing the cover. She'd know. She'd smirk into her own book, but let him have his "secret."

They'd cook dinner together. A nice, simple lamb braise with a salad and some potatoes. The lamb would be a little overcooked, but neither of them would care. The salad would be a masterpiece, complete with fresh tomatoes and artisan cheese picked from the farmer's market.

They'd watch Game of Thrones on the couch with a bottle of wine—the special Game of Thrones wine, of course. They weren't so cool as to never show their fandom. She would yawn and hog the covers. He'd let her. They'd debate over whether Cersei was redeemable and whether Jon Snow and Daenerys should end up together. Her position was "no" and "never, because incest." He was in the "sure, if she'd just stop fucking her brother," and "well, does it count if they don't know?" camps.

They'd each perform their nighttime ablutions with little fuss. It had been a good day. Nothing spectacular or particularly interesting. Nothing to write about.

But good.

And then they'd go to sleep. Hopefully, they'd have no weird dreams about magic teenagers and snarky sex, but if they did, that would be okay too. The dreams didn't do anything for them, anyway. Although sometimes they repeated the same positions in bed a little too often, Hermione didn't fantasize about bad boys and Draco didn't fantasize about the heroines in the YA novels he read. What they were to each other was something fantasy couldn't touch. It was reality. Their imperfectly perfect reality.

And they were content. Truly content.

Hermione turned on the white noise machine she sometimes needed to sleep. Draco tried to spoon her, but abandoned it 30 seconds later because she was too hot.

Their ankles found each other under the covers.

Tomorrow would be another day.

The End

A/N:

Well, this is it folks. The end of our tale. Could we have tackled more tropes? Eh, maybe? That ABO thing is getting pretty popular right now, but honestly, we are so happy to have worked on this together and that you all enjoyed the ride with us.

Make sure you all follow us because this isn't the last MotherSaint mashup. We've got another in the works. Unfortunately, we aren't as masterful as Olivie Blake and don't have a preview ready...She's just a bad ass, and we're flying by the seat of our pants. But oh, what pants. Unusual pants. Perhaps even ill-fitting pants. I'm actually not wearing pants right now. I'm wearing a nightgown. Wait, but our British friends may think I'm not wearing underwear. (You wear underwear with nightwear? My bed gets one or the other. Never both. Take off your panties, Cat!) I am wearing underwear because it's not sleepy time yet. I'm still dealing with my kids. I'm American and the things that cover your legs are called pants here.

Well, (Amanda speaking) I'm about to go to bed because alcohol makes the bed look mighty fine, and I don't even care if it's because of the wine goggles. My pillow is going to get some dirty talk. If you're still reading this Author's Note, two things: (1) Thank you, you're a treasure, and (2) I'm sorry, but you should go to bed too, or if it's day time, you should immediately read some Proust or something as a palate cleanser because this might have made you dumber.

Are you still reading? You really shouldn't be.

Stop kidding yourself, Amanda. They're going to read more Dramione trash. Good night everyone!