A/N: I began writing this story from one of my own prompts from the first round of the Deflower Draco fest on Livejournal/Dreamwidth. I didn't finish in time but had written quite a chunk and had fun doing so, enough to return to finish it a year later!

Taking place between GoF and OotP, Draco and Hermione are both 15 (she is almost 16) in this story. There's some light bondage (think: gift-wrapping), but no hardcore BDSM. There are also mentions of Viktor/Hermione and Draco/Pansy.

My thanks to S. for helping me work through what I thought to be insurmountable plot holes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; all belongs to JKR et al. I do not profit from the writing of this story.

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"Happy Belated 15th Birthday, Draco."

Draco stirred in his posh hotel bed, its stratospherically high thread count sheets pleasantly soft and warm against his cheek. "Mmph," he grunted, cracking an eye open, a precaution against the tall, wide windows whose curtains automatically parted at 7:30 a.m.

Yet the only light in the room appeared to be coming from his father's wand, which illuminated his slyly grinning face.

Draco blinked, confused but excited, and shifted onto his back. "Father?"

"I have a special gift for your annual post-school year birthday celebration, son. It's an important time in your life, in our family's life. You deserve to have anything and everything you want. Even those desires you dare not name." He gestured with his wand, lighting a few nearby sconces, and stepped away.

And there, in the center of the room, wriggling frantically upon the lynx-fur rug, lay one Hermione Granger.

One naked Hermione Granger, strategically placed red ribbons criss-crossing her body, binding her wrists and ankles behind her back, and tied in a big red bow at her breasts.

Draco shot up in bed, panicked. "How did you, why, what, but she's a, a—"

"Mudblood?" his father supplied, still grinning, clearly anticipating these questions. Eager, even, to answer them. "First of all, don't worry yourself over how. You will be given the whole night with her to do as you please, so I'd start thinking instead about exactly how you might like to spend your time."

Draco gripped the sheets spasmodically, avoiding his father's amused gaze.

"It's midnight now. At 7:00 a.m., I shall return, Obliviate her, and take care of the rest, with no one the wiser."

Draco glanced down at Hermione, who flopped about with renewed vigor, fury the likes of which he doubted even Weasley or Potter had ever seen blazing forth from her eyes like a powerful Incendio. She'd been gagged, but judging from the total silence, he guessed his father had also used a spell to keep her quiet.

Lucius turned his head. "Oh, do you like the gag? I thought it would be a nice touch."

Draco's smirk mirrored his father's, but there was one last unanswered question, the biggest. His stomach twisted itself in crazed, impossible knots.

"Why Granger?" Her name came out filled with more venom than a curse. As an afterthought, he added, "Not that I don't appreciate the effort you must have taken fetching her from England . . ."

"Oh no, son. She was right here in Bulgaria. Visiting Krum. Quite the starfucker, like you said."

In her thrashing, Hermione had flipped herself over onto her front and was now struggling to turn back to her side.

Lucius chuckled. "I suppose you'll find out just how literal a starfucker she is. She'll either be quite skilled or—and this is my guess—delightfully untried."

Draco stared down at his hands, which he'd begun compulsively smoothing along the tops of his pajama-clad thighs.

"I know what you're worried about, Draco. And I'm not angry." His father's voice was indulgent and reassuring. Draco looked up, surprised. Hopeful.

Lucius sat on the bed beside him, arm going around his shoulders. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice your obsession with her? All those nasty but excessive comments? Why, someone who didn't know you would think you hated her more than Potter. But I know what lies beneath the apparent antipathy and disgust." He paused dramatically, and Draco bit his lip, unable to break eye contact, yellow light gleaming in his father's long, pale hair.

"Lust."

Heat suffused Draco's face; it felt like he was going to bite through his lip.

Lucius gave his shoulder a squeeze and stood. "Moreover, it's not as if you're the first pure-blood aristocrat to have such…urges. Better to, how shall I put it? Exorcise them, you know, get them out of your system, rather than let them fester and, Merlin forbid, rot your very soul. You could end up thinking Mudbloods are worth more than a dirty fuck on the sly. Then I'd have to disown you." He patted Draco lightly on the cheek.

There was a thud behind Lucius, and he turned, laughing quietly as Hermione failed once again to roll onto her side, or perhaps had just flopped back on her front. "That's all right, Miss Granger. We quite like this view, don't we, Draco?"

Draco swallowed thickly and licked his lips. The wide red ribbon came across her bum, which was raised slightly due to the awkward position the binding of her wrists and ankles put her in. If there were just a little more light in the room, if her hips came up just a bit higher, he was sure he'd be able to see her—

"Well, I'll leave you kids to it, then," Lucius winked as he reached the door. "Oh, and do be careful of your wand, son. As you've grudgingly admitted, she is quite resourceful, and we don't want her causing any trouble. Perhaps you should keep her wrists bound?" With a few flicks of his own wand, he released the Silencing spell on Hermione and put one on the room to prevent any sounds from reaching passing or neighboring ears.

"Have fun!" he whispered gleefully, as if he'd just given Draco his first broom.

"Th-thank you, Father."

The door closed behind him with a quiet snick, and Draco was left alone with his "gift."

His deadly silent gift.

Draco slid off his bed and walked over to the strangely still, bound form on the soft fur rug. His back to the fireplace that served as a Floo (locked this time of night), he looked down at the helpless girl before him. In her thrashing, the ribbon and bow had ridden up her chest, exposing the undersides of her breasts (or, the one he could see as she lay on her left side facing him). Her belly heaved with rapid breaths, and the ribbon clung tightly round her hips and upper thighs. Finally, his eyes travelled back up her body to her face.

To his surprise, he found her eyes squeezed tightly shut, brow furrowed. Her mouth was understandably tense around the gag, a bit of drool leaking down the side of her chin.

Draco knelt, but kept his distance. Sensing her predator, Hermione's eyes snapped open.

"Grr thish ou uh my mou, Drayo!"

And the biggest smile of his life spread across Draco's face.