Let's Fall In Love (HP One-Shot - D/Hr, NC-17)
The Big Reveal recently went up on hp_spring_fling, which means I get to post my fic here. Wahey!
And now for something completely different (for me, at least)...Originally posted here.
Title: Let’s Fall In Love
Author: turkeyish
Gift For: hp_spring_fling
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some language, some smut, some fluff.
Word Count: ~6600
Summary: Once upon a time, it would have taken Hermione Granger seven years just to work up the courage to kiss a boy she fancied. Five years after leaving Hogwarts, she’d like to think she’s done a bit of growing up since then.
A/N: This was a challenge for me to write in more than one way, but I had a lot of fun doing so. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to the wonderful xalexandriam for beta-ing.
Let’s Fall In Love
Love at first sight is only realizing an imagination that has always haunted us; or meeting with a face, a figure, or cast of expression in perfection that we have seen and admired in a less degree or in less favourable circumstances a hundred times before.
-William Hazlitt
~
“Have you heard?”
“Have you seen?”
“Those eyes.”
“That hair.”
“Dear sweet Merlin’s balls, would you just take a look at that arse?”
Because this last sentiment was uttered by the usually prim and proper Padma Patil, an astounded sort of silence descended, before the gaggle of women she was standing with broke out into raucous giggles.
“What’s going on?” Hermione Granger asked curiously, joining their group.
“What, you haven’t heard yet?” Hannah Abbott asked in a shocked voice.
“Only the most exciting thing to occur in this office in years has just happened!” Lavender Brown chimed in.
“He’s just returned,” Padma breathed in an ominous tone. The other girls around her nodded solemnly. Hermione stared. They stared back. The staring game continued for quite a few moments.
“I…er, what?” Hermione said finally.
“Everyone! In the conference room! NOW,” Luna Lovegood barked from across the room, making everyone jump with fright before they began a mass exodus.
“Right,” Luna said once everyone had settled himself or herself into a chair, dreamy smile back in place as she twirled a carrot around. “I’ve got some exciting news for you all.”
“How flattering, Lovegood. Thank you,” Draco Malfoy drawled as he strolled into the room, all long and lean lines clothed in a fine black suit, eliciting an orchestra of excited gasps. He winked at Lavender on his way past her, causing the poor girl to choke on her gum. Somewhere in the back of the room, Colin Creevey shoved his younger brother violently out of the chair he was occupying so that he could stand on it in order to get a better look at the newcomer. Luna beamed at Draco as he took his place next to her, clapping her hands in order to quell the sudden outburst of choking, shoving, and general hysteria.
“As you all can see,” Luna said in her sing-song voice, ignoring the way Dennis Creevey sat whimpering underneath the table, “Draco Malfoy has just returned from his four-year stint with Le French Quibbler. His work as editor-in-chief there, of course, has elevated the publication to previously unseen heights. We at the original Quibbler are doing just fine, but it’s always been our aim to reach out to other demographics. Draco has so graciously agreed to put together a twenty-page spread for us here, which is sure to do just that.” Here, Luna turned to the blond man next to her and gave him a smile that, while she no doubt considered it encouraging, in reality looked quite demented. “Hopefully it will be the mere start of a long and lovely partnership.”
“Right,” Draco said smoothly, facing the room. He paused to languidly straighten a cuff of his expensively cut suit jacket, pointedly ignoring the way Hannah hissed “I’d like to put him into a strait jacket!” to Lavender, who nodded vigorously and perhaps even emitted a purr. “Millicent Bulstrode, better known now as Milly B., is arriving back in the country tomorrow. She will be here only for a day, but she has so graciously agreed to feature in an extensive editorial for us. We have twenty-four hours to prepare the grandest piece any publication has and will ever see. You all know how difficult Milly B.’s schedule is, so you all know how important and exclusive this opportunity is.”
“Millicent Bulstrode?” Hermione asked, brow furrowed. “What does she do now?” A titter ran through the room.
“Milly B. is only the most successful and recognised model of all time and in all the world, working with both Muggle and Wizarding fashion houses,” Hannah said in a shocked voice. “Everyone knows that.”
“Funny,” Hermione said, looking confused, “she never struck me as the model type when we were at Hogwarts.”
“Yes, well, she’s grown to become quite knowledgeable in emetics,” Draco said in an offhand voice, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“Emetics is such a nice word, isn’t it?” Luna mused, cutting in. “Just rolls right off your tongue. E. Met. Ics. Emetics.” She blinked owlishly at the occupants of the room, who were all currently staring at her. “What?”
“What Lovegood means to say is that I’m in charge of this project,” Draco prompted, quirking an eyebrow at the head of the paper.
“Ah, yes!” Luna said happily. “I know how busy you all are with your own pieces and it’s such short notice, so I’m trusting that Draco is capable enough to handle everything on his own. Well, nearly. Hermione, you will be assisting him.”
“Oh, good,” Hermione said, “I can focus on my own column - I, wait. What?”
“That’s not fair!” Lavender exclaimed. “I’m sure Draco needs more help than that. I know - I can do it!” She shot a fierce glare at Hannah, who hastily attempted to turn her snort into a hacking cough.
“I can help,” Colin offered. “Who cares about starving Muggle-born orphan children in the Philippines? I can do that piece some other time.”
“No, no,” Luna said, “Hermione is the most senior employee in this office, and she isn’t currently working on a specific piece. She’ll do the job wonderfully, I’m sure.”
“But I don’t know anything about fashion,” Hermione protested, “I write about politics.”
“Pretend that Millicent is running for Queen of the United States, then,” Luna suggested, “just while wearing a really nice dress.” She took in the blank faces turned towards her and bit into the carrot. “Any questions?”
~
Half an hour, a fierce debate (“But I wanna!” Lavender had orated most convincingly), and the entire length of poor Dennis’s sanity later, Draco found himself waiting for Granger to make her way to the office that had been set up for him.
“Granger,” Draco said in a cordial tone when she rapped her knuckles smartly on his doorjamb, “have a seat.” His eyes took in the way she stepped confidently over to the spare chair in her high heels, and he followed the motion of her hands as she brushed an imaginary speck of lint off of her form-fitting pencil skirt. He smirked slightly as he mentally identified the designers of her outfit.
“Your clothes could feed ten of Creevey’s starving Muggle-borns, Granger,” Draco said lazily, leaning back in his chair and idly twirling a quill around in his slim fingers. “I’d have thought you’d be campaigning for Downtrodden and Oppressed Magical Creatures’ rights while wearing a fair trade sack of burlap by now.”
Hermione’s chin took on a defiant tilt. “Don’t be a prat, Draco; your shoes alone could feed the entire country of the Philippines.” Looking slightly mortified, she nervously tucked a wayward lock of her brunette hair behind an ear. Draco just laughed.
“It’s good to know some things never change, wouldn’t you say, Granger?” he asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, body relaxing slightly as she recognized the Draco Malfoy she’d learnt to deal with over their years at Hogwarts. “If we’re going to be working together, Draco,” she said pointedly, “perhaps you ought to call me Hermione. I’m not one of your Slytherin lackeys.”
“Not a Slytherin, no,” Draco answered, eyes gleaming mischievously. “But you are my lackey…Hermione.”
“I won’t be fetching your tea or anything, Draco,” Hermione warned, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, don’t worry, Hermione,” Draco said in an innocent tone. “I only drink coffee these days.” He paused and put a finger to his lips, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I take mine black, just for future reference.”
~
Hermione shot a covert glance at the blond man sitting across from her, more than slightly…well, confused. Of course, they’d not been at Hogwarts for five years, so she hadn’t really expected the Draco Malfoy of the present to be a reiteration of the Draco Malfoy of her first year or anything - she did give people more credit than that. But it was surprising how very affable he was. They were currently seated in the tearoom of the Phoenix, London’s seven-star Wizarding hotel (“I thought you didn’t like tea,” Hermione had possessed the cheek to ask, only to be met with a dry “Shut it, will you”), and Draco had been maintaining a constant stream of conversation that nearly made Hermione forget they were there to work.
“The Phoenix,” Hermione mused out loud, taking in the marbled tiles, the enchanted chandeliers twinkling above them, and the impeccably dressed wait staff. “Only for a Malfoy. Some things never change, wouldn’t you say, Draco?”
Draco’s grey eyes shone bright with his laughter, and Hermione was suddenly overtaken by an insane urge to straighten his slightly tousled hair with her fingers - a feeling that she mentally and viciously stamped on with her heels. “Always mix business with pleasure where and when you can, Hermione,” Draco advised. “After lunch we’ll venture upstairs to take a look at the penthouse as a possible site for the photo shoot. Besides, you can’t honestly say you’d rather be in the stuffy Quibbler offices than here.”
Hermione smiled. “No, I suppose I couldn’t.”
~
Draco stared up at the numbers that would light up periodically to indicate whichever floor they were currently passing, wondering if it was just him or had the lift shrunken in size since the last time he was there? The petite brunette beside him was silent as she studied the day’s paper with an intent eye, and Draco resisted the sudden and insane urge to reach out and tame her unruly locks with his fingers. Not that he minded the tousled look on her, didn’t mind at all, in fact, and - bugger! He was surprised at how ridiculously easy it was for him to hold a stimulating conversation with her - in France he was surrounded constantly by gorgeous witches who thought that ‘Current Events’ meant whatever the ‘It’ girls of the moment were wearing. It was when he got to the point of wondering just how silky Hermione’s strands would be sure to feel underneath his fingertips that he mentally slapped himself and blinked…only to look down and find the woman herself staring at him worriedly from where she stood on the other side of the lift doors.
“Er, Draco?” she said, “We’ve arrived at the penthouse floor.”
“Yes, I knew that,” Draco said in an offhand voice. “I was just contemplating how striking a few shots of Milly in the lift would be. In a ball gown, that sort of thing.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, sounding dubious. “I don’t know anything about that sort of thing, but it does sound lovely.” She smiled brightly then, and Draco felt the overwhelming need to punch a kitten in its cute, furry face in order to get rid of the weird, fluttery feeling that was taking over his stomach.
“Get a grip on yourself, Malfoy,” he muttered underneath his breath. Yet he couldn’t help but follow the sway of Hermione’s hips with his eyes as she led him towards the penthouse suite.
~
“You’ve already got the photographer and the stylists sorted, right?” Hermione asked, hours later, perusing her notepad with a sharp gaze. Draco made a noise in the back of his throat absentmindedly as he pored over a sheaf of parchment splayed out on his desk. Hermione grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she said.
Draco finally looked up at her with an apologetic expression and pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. “Sorry, Hermione, it’s just been a long day.”
“I know; I was there too, remember?” Hermione teased lightly. After agreeing that the penthouse suite was more than suitable, they had gone all over town to rent additional furniture and props and approve an entire wardrobe and set of accessories, among other errands. Hermione never would have guessed that such seemingly simple tasks would take up the better part of the rest of the day. (“You know, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing in this business,” Draco had remarked wryly, only for Hermione to respond with “What are you on about? Back at Hogwarts you always looked as though you took hours longer to get ready for an event than Pansy Parkinson.”) Nor would she ever have guessed that a day spent with Draco Malfoy could be so much fun, even as filled as it was with work.
They were currently back in Draco’s office, tying up loose ends. Lavender had popped her head around the open doorway so many times to ask “whether anyone needed anything, anything at all” that Draco had finally shut the door with a resounding snap.
Draco sat back and regarded her from across his desk. “So we’ve got everything ready to go for tomorrow, then?” he said slowly.
Hermione ignored the sinking feeling she felt in her belly. “Yes, I suppose so,” she answered, staring down at her notes. “The end of the day is upon us.” She winced mentally at the way she’d just resembled an Edgar Allan Poe character.
“Hermione,” Draco said softly, his elegant voice drawing her gaze back up to meet his own, almost against her will. “Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?”
Hermione smiled, the sinking feeling in her stomach of just a few moments ago relocating itself to her head, having transformed into a light and fluttery sensation. “I’d love to,” she answered.
“Excellent,” Draco said, breaking eye contact and beginning to pack away his things. “I can’t have my lackey starving to death or anything.”
Hermione’s light and fluttery sensation abruptly plummeted to her feet like a lead weight. “Your lackey,” she said, willing her voice to be bright. “That’s me.”
~
Hermione tried hard to ignore the way a delicious tingle ran all along her spine when Draco lightly placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her towards their table at the upscale but low-key restaurant that he swore served the best Italian food in all of London. She tried hard not to stare when he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and loosened his tie, displaying lean, muscular forearms and a hollow at the base of his throat that made her mouth water slightly. She had to fight to keep her fingers to herself when they itched to reach out and brush the hair out of his eyes when he looked down to read the menu. And she had a difficult time preventing herself from melting right into a puddle on the floor as Draco’s aristocratic, velvety tenor kept her laughing all through dinner.
In order to accomplish all of the above, Hermione relied on the strength of a few good and full glasses of wine.
~
Draco knew he should keep the wine well away from Hermione, who obviously couldn’t hold her liquor any better than a House Elf on Butterbeer, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself pluck the glass out of her graceful fingers. The way her dark eyes shone bright in the candlelight, and the way she smiled languorously at him -- full lips curving up in a slightly wicked way -- were things he simply couldn’t resist. He downed the rest of his own glass in one gulp, throat working furiously to get the liquid past the lump in his throat.
“You know, Hermione,” Draco said, fighting hard to ignore the low tug that pulled at his belly when she wrapped her lips slowly around a forkful of tiramisu and emitted an almost obscene noise of pleasure, “I’m surprised that you’re even here with me at all.”
Hermione laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I would have thought you’d want to have dinner with your boyfriend, after having to spend all day with me,” Draco said carefully, taking care to keep his face impassive.
“I’m not with Ron anymore,” Hermione replied, brow furrowed. “You should know that, as he’s with Pansy now.”
“Yes, I disowned her as soon as I found out,” Draco said, attempting to ignore the wave of warm pleasure that swept through him when he made Hermione laugh again.
“I’m not with anyone, Draco,” Hermione said after a moment, gazing at him steadily over the dinner table. “Are you planning on making your stay here permanent?” she found the courage to ask, after a few minutes had passed and Draco hadn’t replied. His nimble fingers toyed with the stem of his wineglass. When he finally looked up at her again, her breath caught at the way his eyes shone like quicksilver in the candlelight.
“I might be convinced to,” he murmured.
~
“Jesus, Hermione,” Draco grumbled, “you’re going to turn an ankle wearing those bloody heels.” The pair of them had left the restaurant late and thoroughly sloshed, and consequently had decided that Draco would walk Hermione to her flat in order to sober up before Apparating back to his manor. Just outside of her door, Hermione gave Draco an innocent, wide-eyed look and stopped to spin around in front of him, giggling as she stumbled into his arms.
“But they’re such nice shoes,” she declared, kicking a foot out to demonstrate. Draco glanced down at her shapely leg, swallowing hard at the mesmerising sight of the red bottom of her shoe.
“Yes, they are quite nice,” Draco agreed, arms full of Hermione. He could detect the light scent of peaches in her hair. She tipped her face up towards him, and he finally found that he couldn’t resist the urge that had been plaguing him all day any longer - he reached out to gently brush a lock of her hair out of her eyes, marvelling at the silken feel of it underneath the pads of his fingers.
“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione murmured, watching him out of half-closed eyes, her face bathed in the soft glow of an overhead light.
“Hermione Granger,” Draco said softly, his own eyes following the tip of her tongue as it darted out to wet her lips.
Long after, neither of them would be able to say who initiated it, but all of a sudden Hermione Granger found herself kissing Draco Malfoy. Draco was fascinated by the taste and feel of her - she was all peaches and wine, her full lips soft and pliable underneath his own. He tilted his head, changing the angle and deepening the kiss when Hermione boldly ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, silently asking for more.
Hermione moaned lightly when Draco darted his tongue into her mouth to explore her further, entangling her fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She barely noticed as he slowly backed her towards the wall, pressing his narrow hips into her own and running his hands slowly up her sides, fingers barely brushing the sides of her breasts, making her shiver despite the heat. She smiled wickedly against his mouth when she felt the insistent evidence of his arousal pressed against her, and hitched up a leg to curl it around his hip, bucking her lower body against him, making him groan and mumble incoherently. She dropped her head back as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, tongue reaching out to taste her soft skin, and torturously inched a hand down to touch the bare knee that was pressed against his hip. He continued to skim his heated palm slowly along the sensitive skin of the outside of her thigh, slipping her skirt up along the way. Hermione made a whining noise in the back of her throat, eyes tightly shut, breath coming out in short, staccato, panting breaths as his long, clever fingers touched the lace at the hip of her knickers and then dipped around to run his thumb along her clit through the lace, making her shudder violently. She made a frustrated noise when he stopped suddenly and unhooked her leg from around his waist, stepping back and smoothing her skirt down. Scowling, she opened her eyes to find Draco looking soberly at her.
“You should go inside, Hermione,” he said.
“Only if you come along with me,” she said, voice husky with her arousal, reaching her arms forward to draw him back to her. But Draco merely took another step back, face looking troubled.
“We’re both drunk, and - ”
“I’m not that drunk,” Hermione corrected, “and I’m pretty sure you’re not either. Not after that, anyway.”
“Hermione, I - ”
“Look, Draco,” Hermione cut in, “do you want this? It’s as simple as that.” She gazed at him steadily, acutely aware of the way she must look, standing there in front of him - clothes rumpled, hair a mess, lips swollen. But she was a woman, damnit, and she knew he wanted her. She tilted her chin up defiantly as she waited for his answer.
Draco sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, I - ”
“That’s all I needed to know,” Hermione interrupted, voice icy. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work, Malfoy.” And, turning on her heel, she swiftly pulled out her wand to undo her wards and enter her flat.
Once she had shut the door on a still immobile Draco, she turned to press her back against the cold wood of her door, knuckles white as they gripped her wand tightly, eyes stinging so badly she couldn’t see. Only after she was completely sure that he’d left did she allow her hot tears to fall.
~
He was a fucking idiot. That was his only excuse - and it wasn’t even a particularly good one, at that. He stood in Hermione’s hallway, staring at the wood of the door that she’d slammed shut in his face for a long moment, an immense part of him wanting to demand that she open the door to him. And then he spun around and Apparated, landing in the foyer of the manor, turning swiftly to slam a hand angrily into a wall.
“Fuck,” he swore viciously underneath his breath, pressing his overheated forehead against the wall. “Fuck.”
Needless to say, Draco Malfoy didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.
~
Draco was having a bloody miserable day. Unable to fall asleep for longer than an hour, he had decided to give up and made his way to the Phoenix’s penthouse suite, intending to be one of the first there so that he could begin setting up in peace to take his mind off things. But apparently Hermione had the same idea in mind, which led to the both of them working side by side in utter silence. Draco couldn’t help but continue to sneak covert glances over at her, thinking how nice she looked in her blue dress and flats. But Hermione’s chin was still tilted at that resolute angle that he’d grown to recognize so well, and she refused to look directly at him or speak to him unless absolutely necessary.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she had intoned, voice flat and face expressionless, when Draco had ventured forth with a pathetic sort of apology.
And then the entire crew had arrived, including their model and their photographer. Millicent, for her part, was being completely gracious and professional, declaring loudly that she’d do “Absolutely anything for an old and dear friend”. The photographer, on the other hand, was pissing Draco the hell off. Not that he wasn’t a very good photographer - on the contrary, he was renowned all over the world for his work, was always in very high demand, and Draco knew he was incredibly lucky that his connections had allowed him to secure the man for a full day’s work. But Blaise Zabini was nothing if not a shameless flirt and the quintessential bachelor, and he had taken to Hermione like, well…the Giant Squid had to Albus Dumbledore.
Draco had noticed the way Hermione blushed when Blaise introduced himself to her, teasing her about being at school together and foregoing a handshake in favour of brushing a lingering kiss on her cheek. The wardrobe stylist certainly wasn’t helping matters, either.
“He’s so dreamy,” she sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.
“He’s a bloody ponce, is what he is,” Draco muttered underneath his breath.
“What was that?” she asked, turning towards him with a frown.
“Get back to work!” Draco growled, spinning on his heel and stalking away in a fair imitation of his old Potions professor. Severus Snape would have been proud.
~
Hermione usually never acted this way, but she felt that, sometimes, women just had a natural born right to do so. Blaise had been flirting shamelessly with her all day, constantly asking her to assist him in minor tasks that she knew full well he could perform himself. And she wasn’t exactly shying away, either. Blaise took every opportunity to brush his fingers over her own and shoot her lingering glances or rakish grins, and she found herself responding favourably, returning his smiles and glances and going out of her way to engage him in light conversation. Blaise was a Slytherin through and through, prone to making snarky comments - and Hermione liked that he actually seemed to possess a brain, which he demonstrated by engaging her in lengthy conversations about her work. He was also, of course, extremely attractive, more than the perfect archetype of tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the fact that it didn’t hurt that Draco had been lurking just outside of her line of sight the entire time, looking as though someone had just roasted his favourite owl alive. Although, she did have to admit that he did look rather dapper that day in his casual attire.
Hermione scowled.
Bollocks to Draco Malfoy, anyway.
~
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he ventured downstairs to help the crew transport all of their items out of the room. It had been a long day, but the photo shoot had gone incredibly well, and Draco’s mind was already whirring with ideas for what he would do when Blaise developed the photos. They had been so efficient, in fact, that it was just before dinnertime.
“Good bye, darling,” Millicent said, turning to Draco and kissing him on both cheeks. She looked every part the model in that moment, wearing her luxurious fur and her oversized sunglasses. A Rolls Royce sat idling at the curb, waiting to whisk her away to the international Apparation point so that she could make her way back to New York in time for some fabulous party or other.
“Take care, Milly,” Draco said with a grin, helping her into the car. She took off her sunglasses and glared up at him from where she sat.
“You know I hate that name,” she said. “I only ever use it for business.”
“I know,” Draco said cheerfully, “it’s the only reason I ever use it.”
“Prat,” Millicent returned affectionately. She moved to pull the door closed, but then looked at him again. “That Hermione Granger really is looking gorgeous these days,” she said nonchalantly. “And you, my dear, really are very oblivious. Do stop acting like a fool, yes?”
Draco chuckled to himself as he watched her car speed off through the London traffic. Making his way back into the Phoenix, he stepped onto the lift and punched the button to the penthouse floor, formulating what he would say to Hermione in his mind. He knew that it was in her nature to hang back to tie up loose ends, and he also knew that everyone else had already left for their respective homes. Now was as good an opportunity as any to explain everything to her.
Whistling lightly, he made his way down the hallway and pushed open the door to the penthouse. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.
“Come to dinner with me tonight, Hermione,” Blaise was saying, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. Hermione smiled shyly as she looked up at him.
“I don’t know, Blaise,” she said, and Draco winced at the breathy way she said his name. “It’s been a long day.”
“That it has,” Blaise agreed easily, “but perhaps I could convince you…?” And he tilted his head towards Hermione, agonizingly slow as he inched closer to the lips that Draco had envisioned over and over again just the previous night, and -
“Alright, that’s it,” Draco said, striding into the room.
“Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, glaring at him, “what the hell are you still doing here?”
“Yeah, mate,” Blaise drawled, “you’ve just interrupted a private moment.”
Draco smiled humourlessly at the pair of them. “I need to speak to you,” he said, levelling a steady gaze at Hermione.
“Do you? Well, that’s unfortunate,” Hermione bit out, “as I was already speaking to Blaise.”
Blaise smirked at his old housemate and made a show of taking Hermione’s hand in his own. “Have a good night, Malfoy,” he said, brushing past him.
Blaise had just pressed the button for the lift when Draco decided that a desperate Draco Malfoy would not be outdone. Sprinting towards the lift, he saw Blaise step one foot inside it, Hermione readying herself to follow him. Reaching out, he took a hold of her free hand and yanked, catching Blaise off-guard and sending an equally surprised Hermione stumbling into his arms, her other hand losing its grip on Blaise’s. Turning on the spot, Draco Apparated them directly to the first place he thought of - his office.
~
“What. The. FUCK,” Hermione said slowly, voice dangerously low, once she had regained her bearings only to realise that she was standing in the middle of Draco’s office. Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?” she said.
“You are,” Draco said quietly. Hermione’s eyes flew open.
“Well, thanks,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. “You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you? What with the pushing her away and all.”
“Hermione, I - ”
But Hermione neatly sidestepped the hands that he held out towards her with a beseeching look on his face and glared at him.
“You’re a right prick, Malfoy, you know that?”
“Yes, I know, and I - ”
“You really had me thinking that I liked you, and then it turns out you’re just leading me on, just looking for a laugh - ”
“What! No, Hermione, I - ”
“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed, eyes burning bright and fierce in her flushed face, hair slipping out of its elegant knot.
“Hermione, no,” Draco pleaded, striding forward, matching every step Hermione took back. Hermione soon found herself backed against his desk, and Draco took advantage of her vulnerable position and cupped her face in his hands, fingers trembling slightly.
“Hermione, listen to me,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “I - OW! FUCK!” Draco dropped to the floor, cradling his nose. “’Oody ‘ell,” he groaned. Hermione gasped, staring from her clenched fist to the blood streaming out of his nose and over his hands.
“Oh my God! Draco, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, crouching beside him. She fumbled around in her purse for her wand, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally pulled it out. Touching gentle fingers to his cheek, she turned his face towards her and murmured healing and cleansing charms, fighting to ignore the way Draco’s eyes followed her movements in a piercing gaze.
“Thank you,” he said, when she knelt back to indicate that she was finished.
“I’m so sorry, Draco,” she said, regarding him sadly.
“I am, too,” he replied. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling of his office. “I was such a fucking idiot last night, and all I could think about was how much I really did want you, you know, and - ”
“And you’re just a big, fat girl,” Hermione interrupted. Draco glanced at her, only to find, to his surprise, that she was smiling at him. “I understand; I really do. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy would be the one to wear the skirt in this relationship?” she said, eyes gleaming mischievously.
Draco slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, as Hermione crept over him on her hands and knees.
“I know you want me,” Hermione said softly, lips hovering over his own. Draco found himself tantalized by the familiar smell of peaches. “And you know I want you. You’re an idiot, but I like that you’re an idiot for my sake. I haven’t got any diseases; I trust you don’t either, so let’s just put all the shit behind us and get on with it.”
Draco smirked, looking into her darkened eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that it’s incredibly sexy when you outline a viable plan, Ms. Granger?” he asked, reaching up to run a finger along her bottom lip. His eyes narrowed as she took it into her mouth and bit down lightly.
“Yes, of course,” she said sweetly, laughing when Draco growled and flipped her over so that he was the one hovering over her.
“Is that what this is,” he asked, studying her closely. “A relationship?”
“I might be convinced to,” Hermione murmured, echoing his words from the previous night.
This time, it was definitely Draco who kissed Hermione first. He nipped at her lips lightly, shifting to press a trail of kisses that led down the pale, graceful column of her neck. Hermione sighed happily at the sensations, reaching her fingers up to run them through Draco’s hair. Biting her lip when Draco reached a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat, she spread her legs, allowing him to settle more comfortably between them. He ran a hand lightly along the outside of her thigh, and Hermione growled low in her throat as he inched the hem of her dress up agonizingly slowly.
“Impatient, are we?” Draco murmured with a chuckle.
“Just get on with it, Draco,” Hermione said crossly, moaning loudly when he pushed two fingers underneath her knickers and thrust them into her, discerning for himself how wet she already was.
“Fuck,” Draco breathed, eyes stormy as they watched her face contorted in pleasure. She was burning hot around his fingers, wet walls clamping down tightly as he stroked in and out of her. He thumbed her clit while he fingered her, her arousal soaking him. He slid his other hand up and palmed a breast in his hand, rolling the nipple around with two fingers over the material of her dress, eliciting another gasp and moan from her. He could feel how much she wanted him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.
Hermione was gasping now, eyes screwed shut as she concentrated on the pleasure that ran through her, pulling tight at her body underneath Draco’s ministrations. She ran a hand down his chest, marvelling at the hard planes she could feel underneath the thin material of his jumper. She fumbled with the buckle of his belt, faltering slightly when Draco flicked at her clit with his thumb. Opening her eyes, she grinned wickedly up at him as she finally got his belt and zipper undone. Slipping a hand underneath his boxers, she watched him closely as she stroked him, loving the way a muscle in his jaw worked and the way he swallowed hard on every upstroke, eyes dark with his arousal.
When she withdrew her hand from around him to taste the bead of pre-cum that had gathered on a finger, Draco’s control snapped. Uttering an oath underneath his breath, he shoved his trousers and boxers down around his knees, wordlessly banishing her knickers and casting a contraceptive charm before running his hands down to her knees to push them apart further, opening her completely to his heated gaze.
The two of them groaned in unison when he finally entered her, slowly sheathing himself entirely. And then Hermione laughed breathlessly, even as her walls contracted tightly around him, making him curse again.
“What’s so funny, Granger?” Draco asked grumpily, although the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
“Won’t you get carpet burn?” Hermione asked seriously, breath hitching at the end of her sentence as Draco withdrew nearly all of the way and thrust back into her swiftly, filling her entirely.
“Worth it,” Draco muttered, moving his hips faster now. Hermione lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist, her head dropping back as she moaned with every thrust. Draco dipped his head to kiss her fully as he moved within her, moving his hand down again to finger her clit. The combined sensations had Hermione seeing stars as she fell over the edge, her scream swallowed by Draco’s kiss. He followed her moments later, hips stilling as he spilled into her, groaning her name into her hair. Hermione sighed when he pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back, allowing him to pull her against his chest. Pressing her ear to his heart, she smiled as she listened to his rapid heartbeat begin to slow down.
“How are your knees?” she asked softly, watching as Draco lifted her hand to entangle their fingers together. Draco chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“They’ve never been better.”
~
Half an hour, a good amount of snuggling, and one joke about the silver embroidered Snitches on Draco’s green silk boxers later, Hermione’s stomach decided to insert itself into the conversation.
“Dinner time,” Draco agreed, getting to his feet to straighten out his appearance and helping Hermione to do the same. “How does sushi sound?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand in his.
“Sushi sounds lovely,” Hermione replied, smiling as he drew her towards him to kiss her soundly.
Pulling away from him with more than a little bit of difficulty and regret, Hermione reached out to twist the knob to the door of Draco’s office, swinging it open to find the entire office staring at them.
“Oh, hi, Draco!” Hannah called out, waving cheerfully.
“Yes, hello, Hermione,” Lavender said, glaring daggers at the other girl.
“Ah, there you two are,” Luna said, munching on a handful of popcorn that she had just filched from the enormous bucket that sat on Colin’s lap. “Can we see your Snitches, Draco?”
“Right,” Draco said, taking Hermione with him as he stepped slowly backwards into the room. “I’m going to have to think about that one.” And then he slammed the door shut, scowling when he turned to find Hermione doubled over in laughter. “It’s not funny, Hermione,” he said haughtily.
“They’re such cute Snitches, though,” Hermione said, eyes twinkling merrily. “Shame to deprive the masses.” She backed up slowly as Draco began stalking towards her, a rakish sort of grin on his face. Cornering her against a bookcase, he leaned an arm along the side of her head, running his other fingers slowly up her bare arm. She shivered even as she arched an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Care to see my Snitches again, Granger?” he murmured, lips hovering enticingly just above her own. “I’ve still got the keys to that penthouse suite.”
Outside of Draco Malfoy’s office, the crowd gathered in front of the door heard the happy, feminine laugh that preceded the pop of Apparation.
“Even educated fleas do it, you know,” Luna said, smiling dreamily at something just over Dennis’s head. She winked at him roguishly when he merely gaped at her with a confused expression. “Fall in love, that is.”
~
Birds do it, bees do it.
Even educated fleas do it.
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
-Cole Porter
Fin.
And now for something completely different (for me, at least)...Originally posted here.
Title: Let’s Fall In Love
Author: turkeyish
Gift For: hp_spring_fling
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some language, some smut, some fluff.
Word Count: ~6600
Summary: Once upon a time, it would have taken Hermione Granger seven years just to work up the courage to kiss a boy she fancied. Five years after leaving Hogwarts, she’d like to think she’s done a bit of growing up since then.
A/N: This was a challenge for me to write in more than one way, but I had a lot of fun doing so. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to the wonderful xalexandriam for beta-ing.
Let’s Fall In Love
Love at first sight is only realizing an imagination that has always haunted us; or meeting with a face, a figure, or cast of expression in perfection that we have seen and admired in a less degree or in less favourable circumstances a hundred times before.
-William Hazlitt
~
“Have you heard?”
“Have you seen?”
“Those eyes.”
“That hair.”
“Dear sweet Merlin’s balls, would you just take a look at that arse?”
Because this last sentiment was uttered by the usually prim and proper Padma Patil, an astounded sort of silence descended, before the gaggle of women she was standing with broke out into raucous giggles.
“What’s going on?” Hermione Granger asked curiously, joining their group.
“What, you haven’t heard yet?” Hannah Abbott asked in a shocked voice.
“Only the most exciting thing to occur in this office in years has just happened!” Lavender Brown chimed in.
“He’s just returned,” Padma breathed in an ominous tone. The other girls around her nodded solemnly. Hermione stared. They stared back. The staring game continued for quite a few moments.
“I…er, what?” Hermione said finally.
“Everyone! In the conference room! NOW,” Luna Lovegood barked from across the room, making everyone jump with fright before they began a mass exodus.
“Right,” Luna said once everyone had settled himself or herself into a chair, dreamy smile back in place as she twirled a carrot around. “I’ve got some exciting news for you all.”
“How flattering, Lovegood. Thank you,” Draco Malfoy drawled as he strolled into the room, all long and lean lines clothed in a fine black suit, eliciting an orchestra of excited gasps. He winked at Lavender on his way past her, causing the poor girl to choke on her gum. Somewhere in the back of the room, Colin Creevey shoved his younger brother violently out of the chair he was occupying so that he could stand on it in order to get a better look at the newcomer. Luna beamed at Draco as he took his place next to her, clapping her hands in order to quell the sudden outburst of choking, shoving, and general hysteria.
“As you all can see,” Luna said in her sing-song voice, ignoring the way Dennis Creevey sat whimpering underneath the table, “Draco Malfoy has just returned from his four-year stint with Le French Quibbler. His work as editor-in-chief there, of course, has elevated the publication to previously unseen heights. We at the original Quibbler are doing just fine, but it’s always been our aim to reach out to other demographics. Draco has so graciously agreed to put together a twenty-page spread for us here, which is sure to do just that.” Here, Luna turned to the blond man next to her and gave him a smile that, while she no doubt considered it encouraging, in reality looked quite demented. “Hopefully it will be the mere start of a long and lovely partnership.”
“Right,” Draco said smoothly, facing the room. He paused to languidly straighten a cuff of his expensively cut suit jacket, pointedly ignoring the way Hannah hissed “I’d like to put him into a strait jacket!” to Lavender, who nodded vigorously and perhaps even emitted a purr. “Millicent Bulstrode, better known now as Milly B., is arriving back in the country tomorrow. She will be here only for a day, but she has so graciously agreed to feature in an extensive editorial for us. We have twenty-four hours to prepare the grandest piece any publication has and will ever see. You all know how difficult Milly B.’s schedule is, so you all know how important and exclusive this opportunity is.”
“Millicent Bulstrode?” Hermione asked, brow furrowed. “What does she do now?” A titter ran through the room.
“Milly B. is only the most successful and recognised model of all time and in all the world, working with both Muggle and Wizarding fashion houses,” Hannah said in a shocked voice. “Everyone knows that.”
“Funny,” Hermione said, looking confused, “she never struck me as the model type when we were at Hogwarts.”
“Yes, well, she’s grown to become quite knowledgeable in emetics,” Draco said in an offhand voice, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“Emetics is such a nice word, isn’t it?” Luna mused, cutting in. “Just rolls right off your tongue. E. Met. Ics. Emetics.” She blinked owlishly at the occupants of the room, who were all currently staring at her. “What?”
“What Lovegood means to say is that I’m in charge of this project,” Draco prompted, quirking an eyebrow at the head of the paper.
“Ah, yes!” Luna said happily. “I know how busy you all are with your own pieces and it’s such short notice, so I’m trusting that Draco is capable enough to handle everything on his own. Well, nearly. Hermione, you will be assisting him.”
“Oh, good,” Hermione said, “I can focus on my own column - I, wait. What?”
“That’s not fair!” Lavender exclaimed. “I’m sure Draco needs more help than that. I know - I can do it!” She shot a fierce glare at Hannah, who hastily attempted to turn her snort into a hacking cough.
“I can help,” Colin offered. “Who cares about starving Muggle-born orphan children in the Philippines? I can do that piece some other time.”
“No, no,” Luna said, “Hermione is the most senior employee in this office, and she isn’t currently working on a specific piece. She’ll do the job wonderfully, I’m sure.”
“But I don’t know anything about fashion,” Hermione protested, “I write about politics.”
“Pretend that Millicent is running for Queen of the United States, then,” Luna suggested, “just while wearing a really nice dress.” She took in the blank faces turned towards her and bit into the carrot. “Any questions?”
~
Half an hour, a fierce debate (“But I wanna!” Lavender had orated most convincingly), and the entire length of poor Dennis’s sanity later, Draco found himself waiting for Granger to make her way to the office that had been set up for him.
“Granger,” Draco said in a cordial tone when she rapped her knuckles smartly on his doorjamb, “have a seat.” His eyes took in the way she stepped confidently over to the spare chair in her high heels, and he followed the motion of her hands as she brushed an imaginary speck of lint off of her form-fitting pencil skirt. He smirked slightly as he mentally identified the designers of her outfit.
“Your clothes could feed ten of Creevey’s starving Muggle-borns, Granger,” Draco said lazily, leaning back in his chair and idly twirling a quill around in his slim fingers. “I’d have thought you’d be campaigning for Downtrodden and Oppressed Magical Creatures’ rights while wearing a fair trade sack of burlap by now.”
Hermione’s chin took on a defiant tilt. “Don’t be a prat, Draco; your shoes alone could feed the entire country of the Philippines.” Looking slightly mortified, she nervously tucked a wayward lock of her brunette hair behind an ear. Draco just laughed.
“It’s good to know some things never change, wouldn’t you say, Granger?” he asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, body relaxing slightly as she recognized the Draco Malfoy she’d learnt to deal with over their years at Hogwarts. “If we’re going to be working together, Draco,” she said pointedly, “perhaps you ought to call me Hermione. I’m not one of your Slytherin lackeys.”
“Not a Slytherin, no,” Draco answered, eyes gleaming mischievously. “But you are my lackey…Hermione.”
“I won’t be fetching your tea or anything, Draco,” Hermione warned, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, don’t worry, Hermione,” Draco said in an innocent tone. “I only drink coffee these days.” He paused and put a finger to his lips, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I take mine black, just for future reference.”
~
Hermione shot a covert glance at the blond man sitting across from her, more than slightly…well, confused. Of course, they’d not been at Hogwarts for five years, so she hadn’t really expected the Draco Malfoy of the present to be a reiteration of the Draco Malfoy of her first year or anything - she did give people more credit than that. But it was surprising how very affable he was. They were currently seated in the tearoom of the Phoenix, London’s seven-star Wizarding hotel (“I thought you didn’t like tea,” Hermione had possessed the cheek to ask, only to be met with a dry “Shut it, will you”), and Draco had been maintaining a constant stream of conversation that nearly made Hermione forget they were there to work.
“The Phoenix,” Hermione mused out loud, taking in the marbled tiles, the enchanted chandeliers twinkling above them, and the impeccably dressed wait staff. “Only for a Malfoy. Some things never change, wouldn’t you say, Draco?”
Draco’s grey eyes shone bright with his laughter, and Hermione was suddenly overtaken by an insane urge to straighten his slightly tousled hair with her fingers - a feeling that she mentally and viciously stamped on with her heels. “Always mix business with pleasure where and when you can, Hermione,” Draco advised. “After lunch we’ll venture upstairs to take a look at the penthouse as a possible site for the photo shoot. Besides, you can’t honestly say you’d rather be in the stuffy Quibbler offices than here.”
Hermione smiled. “No, I suppose I couldn’t.”
~
Draco stared up at the numbers that would light up periodically to indicate whichever floor they were currently passing, wondering if it was just him or had the lift shrunken in size since the last time he was there? The petite brunette beside him was silent as she studied the day’s paper with an intent eye, and Draco resisted the sudden and insane urge to reach out and tame her unruly locks with his fingers. Not that he minded the tousled look on her, didn’t mind at all, in fact, and - bugger! He was surprised at how ridiculously easy it was for him to hold a stimulating conversation with her - in France he was surrounded constantly by gorgeous witches who thought that ‘Current Events’ meant whatever the ‘It’ girls of the moment were wearing. It was when he got to the point of wondering just how silky Hermione’s strands would be sure to feel underneath his fingertips that he mentally slapped himself and blinked…only to look down and find the woman herself staring at him worriedly from where she stood on the other side of the lift doors.
“Er, Draco?” she said, “We’ve arrived at the penthouse floor.”
“Yes, I knew that,” Draco said in an offhand voice. “I was just contemplating how striking a few shots of Milly in the lift would be. In a ball gown, that sort of thing.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, sounding dubious. “I don’t know anything about that sort of thing, but it does sound lovely.” She smiled brightly then, and Draco felt the overwhelming need to punch a kitten in its cute, furry face in order to get rid of the weird, fluttery feeling that was taking over his stomach.
“Get a grip on yourself, Malfoy,” he muttered underneath his breath. Yet he couldn’t help but follow the sway of Hermione’s hips with his eyes as she led him towards the penthouse suite.
~
“You’ve already got the photographer and the stylists sorted, right?” Hermione asked, hours later, perusing her notepad with a sharp gaze. Draco made a noise in the back of his throat absentmindedly as he pored over a sheaf of parchment splayed out on his desk. Hermione grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she said.
Draco finally looked up at her with an apologetic expression and pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. “Sorry, Hermione, it’s just been a long day.”
“I know; I was there too, remember?” Hermione teased lightly. After agreeing that the penthouse suite was more than suitable, they had gone all over town to rent additional furniture and props and approve an entire wardrobe and set of accessories, among other errands. Hermione never would have guessed that such seemingly simple tasks would take up the better part of the rest of the day. (“You know, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing in this business,” Draco had remarked wryly, only for Hermione to respond with “What are you on about? Back at Hogwarts you always looked as though you took hours longer to get ready for an event than Pansy Parkinson.”) Nor would she ever have guessed that a day spent with Draco Malfoy could be so much fun, even as filled as it was with work.
They were currently back in Draco’s office, tying up loose ends. Lavender had popped her head around the open doorway so many times to ask “whether anyone needed anything, anything at all” that Draco had finally shut the door with a resounding snap.
Draco sat back and regarded her from across his desk. “So we’ve got everything ready to go for tomorrow, then?” he said slowly.
Hermione ignored the sinking feeling she felt in her belly. “Yes, I suppose so,” she answered, staring down at her notes. “The end of the day is upon us.” She winced mentally at the way she’d just resembled an Edgar Allan Poe character.
“Hermione,” Draco said softly, his elegant voice drawing her gaze back up to meet his own, almost against her will. “Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?”
Hermione smiled, the sinking feeling in her stomach of just a few moments ago relocating itself to her head, having transformed into a light and fluttery sensation. “I’d love to,” she answered.
“Excellent,” Draco said, breaking eye contact and beginning to pack away his things. “I can’t have my lackey starving to death or anything.”
Hermione’s light and fluttery sensation abruptly plummeted to her feet like a lead weight. “Your lackey,” she said, willing her voice to be bright. “That’s me.”
~
Hermione tried hard to ignore the way a delicious tingle ran all along her spine when Draco lightly placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her towards their table at the upscale but low-key restaurant that he swore served the best Italian food in all of London. She tried hard not to stare when he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and loosened his tie, displaying lean, muscular forearms and a hollow at the base of his throat that made her mouth water slightly. She had to fight to keep her fingers to herself when they itched to reach out and brush the hair out of his eyes when he looked down to read the menu. And she had a difficult time preventing herself from melting right into a puddle on the floor as Draco’s aristocratic, velvety tenor kept her laughing all through dinner.
In order to accomplish all of the above, Hermione relied on the strength of a few good and full glasses of wine.
~
Draco knew he should keep the wine well away from Hermione, who obviously couldn’t hold her liquor any better than a House Elf on Butterbeer, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself pluck the glass out of her graceful fingers. The way her dark eyes shone bright in the candlelight, and the way she smiled languorously at him -- full lips curving up in a slightly wicked way -- were things he simply couldn’t resist. He downed the rest of his own glass in one gulp, throat working furiously to get the liquid past the lump in his throat.
“You know, Hermione,” Draco said, fighting hard to ignore the low tug that pulled at his belly when she wrapped her lips slowly around a forkful of tiramisu and emitted an almost obscene noise of pleasure, “I’m surprised that you’re even here with me at all.”
Hermione laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I would have thought you’d want to have dinner with your boyfriend, after having to spend all day with me,” Draco said carefully, taking care to keep his face impassive.
“I’m not with Ron anymore,” Hermione replied, brow furrowed. “You should know that, as he’s with Pansy now.”
“Yes, I disowned her as soon as I found out,” Draco said, attempting to ignore the wave of warm pleasure that swept through him when he made Hermione laugh again.
“I’m not with anyone, Draco,” Hermione said after a moment, gazing at him steadily over the dinner table. “Are you planning on making your stay here permanent?” she found the courage to ask, after a few minutes had passed and Draco hadn’t replied. His nimble fingers toyed with the stem of his wineglass. When he finally looked up at her again, her breath caught at the way his eyes shone like quicksilver in the candlelight.
“I might be convinced to,” he murmured.
~
“Jesus, Hermione,” Draco grumbled, “you’re going to turn an ankle wearing those bloody heels.” The pair of them had left the restaurant late and thoroughly sloshed, and consequently had decided that Draco would walk Hermione to her flat in order to sober up before Apparating back to his manor. Just outside of her door, Hermione gave Draco an innocent, wide-eyed look and stopped to spin around in front of him, giggling as she stumbled into his arms.
“But they’re such nice shoes,” she declared, kicking a foot out to demonstrate. Draco glanced down at her shapely leg, swallowing hard at the mesmerising sight of the red bottom of her shoe.
“Yes, they are quite nice,” Draco agreed, arms full of Hermione. He could detect the light scent of peaches in her hair. She tipped her face up towards him, and he finally found that he couldn’t resist the urge that had been plaguing him all day any longer - he reached out to gently brush a lock of her hair out of her eyes, marvelling at the silken feel of it underneath the pads of his fingers.
“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione murmured, watching him out of half-closed eyes, her face bathed in the soft glow of an overhead light.
“Hermione Granger,” Draco said softly, his own eyes following the tip of her tongue as it darted out to wet her lips.
Long after, neither of them would be able to say who initiated it, but all of a sudden Hermione Granger found herself kissing Draco Malfoy. Draco was fascinated by the taste and feel of her - she was all peaches and wine, her full lips soft and pliable underneath his own. He tilted his head, changing the angle and deepening the kiss when Hermione boldly ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, silently asking for more.
Hermione moaned lightly when Draco darted his tongue into her mouth to explore her further, entangling her fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She barely noticed as he slowly backed her towards the wall, pressing his narrow hips into her own and running his hands slowly up her sides, fingers barely brushing the sides of her breasts, making her shiver despite the heat. She smiled wickedly against his mouth when she felt the insistent evidence of his arousal pressed against her, and hitched up a leg to curl it around his hip, bucking her lower body against him, making him groan and mumble incoherently. She dropped her head back as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, tongue reaching out to taste her soft skin, and torturously inched a hand down to touch the bare knee that was pressed against his hip. He continued to skim his heated palm slowly along the sensitive skin of the outside of her thigh, slipping her skirt up along the way. Hermione made a whining noise in the back of her throat, eyes tightly shut, breath coming out in short, staccato, panting breaths as his long, clever fingers touched the lace at the hip of her knickers and then dipped around to run his thumb along her clit through the lace, making her shudder violently. She made a frustrated noise when he stopped suddenly and unhooked her leg from around his waist, stepping back and smoothing her skirt down. Scowling, she opened her eyes to find Draco looking soberly at her.
“You should go inside, Hermione,” he said.
“Only if you come along with me,” she said, voice husky with her arousal, reaching her arms forward to draw him back to her. But Draco merely took another step back, face looking troubled.
“We’re both drunk, and - ”
“I’m not that drunk,” Hermione corrected, “and I’m pretty sure you’re not either. Not after that, anyway.”
“Hermione, I - ”
“Look, Draco,” Hermione cut in, “do you want this? It’s as simple as that.” She gazed at him steadily, acutely aware of the way she must look, standing there in front of him - clothes rumpled, hair a mess, lips swollen. But she was a woman, damnit, and she knew he wanted her. She tilted her chin up defiantly as she waited for his answer.
Draco sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, I - ”
“That’s all I needed to know,” Hermione interrupted, voice icy. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work, Malfoy.” And, turning on her heel, she swiftly pulled out her wand to undo her wards and enter her flat.
Once she had shut the door on a still immobile Draco, she turned to press her back against the cold wood of her door, knuckles white as they gripped her wand tightly, eyes stinging so badly she couldn’t see. Only after she was completely sure that he’d left did she allow her hot tears to fall.
~
He was a fucking idiot. That was his only excuse - and it wasn’t even a particularly good one, at that. He stood in Hermione’s hallway, staring at the wood of the door that she’d slammed shut in his face for a long moment, an immense part of him wanting to demand that she open the door to him. And then he spun around and Apparated, landing in the foyer of the manor, turning swiftly to slam a hand angrily into a wall.
“Fuck,” he swore viciously underneath his breath, pressing his overheated forehead against the wall. “Fuck.”
Needless to say, Draco Malfoy didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.
~
Draco was having a bloody miserable day. Unable to fall asleep for longer than an hour, he had decided to give up and made his way to the Phoenix’s penthouse suite, intending to be one of the first there so that he could begin setting up in peace to take his mind off things. But apparently Hermione had the same idea in mind, which led to the both of them working side by side in utter silence. Draco couldn’t help but continue to sneak covert glances over at her, thinking how nice she looked in her blue dress and flats. But Hermione’s chin was still tilted at that resolute angle that he’d grown to recognize so well, and she refused to look directly at him or speak to him unless absolutely necessary.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she had intoned, voice flat and face expressionless, when Draco had ventured forth with a pathetic sort of apology.
And then the entire crew had arrived, including their model and their photographer. Millicent, for her part, was being completely gracious and professional, declaring loudly that she’d do “Absolutely anything for an old and dear friend”. The photographer, on the other hand, was pissing Draco the hell off. Not that he wasn’t a very good photographer - on the contrary, he was renowned all over the world for his work, was always in very high demand, and Draco knew he was incredibly lucky that his connections had allowed him to secure the man for a full day’s work. But Blaise Zabini was nothing if not a shameless flirt and the quintessential bachelor, and he had taken to Hermione like, well…the Giant Squid had to Albus Dumbledore.
Draco had noticed the way Hermione blushed when Blaise introduced himself to her, teasing her about being at school together and foregoing a handshake in favour of brushing a lingering kiss on her cheek. The wardrobe stylist certainly wasn’t helping matters, either.
“He’s so dreamy,” she sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.
“He’s a bloody ponce, is what he is,” Draco muttered underneath his breath.
“What was that?” she asked, turning towards him with a frown.
“Get back to work!” Draco growled, spinning on his heel and stalking away in a fair imitation of his old Potions professor. Severus Snape would have been proud.
~
Hermione usually never acted this way, but she felt that, sometimes, women just had a natural born right to do so. Blaise had been flirting shamelessly with her all day, constantly asking her to assist him in minor tasks that she knew full well he could perform himself. And she wasn’t exactly shying away, either. Blaise took every opportunity to brush his fingers over her own and shoot her lingering glances or rakish grins, and she found herself responding favourably, returning his smiles and glances and going out of her way to engage him in light conversation. Blaise was a Slytherin through and through, prone to making snarky comments - and Hermione liked that he actually seemed to possess a brain, which he demonstrated by engaging her in lengthy conversations about her work. He was also, of course, extremely attractive, more than the perfect archetype of tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention the fact that it didn’t hurt that Draco had been lurking just outside of her line of sight the entire time, looking as though someone had just roasted his favourite owl alive. Although, she did have to admit that he did look rather dapper that day in his casual attire.
Hermione scowled.
Bollocks to Draco Malfoy, anyway.
~
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he ventured downstairs to help the crew transport all of their items out of the room. It had been a long day, but the photo shoot had gone incredibly well, and Draco’s mind was already whirring with ideas for what he would do when Blaise developed the photos. They had been so efficient, in fact, that it was just before dinnertime.
“Good bye, darling,” Millicent said, turning to Draco and kissing him on both cheeks. She looked every part the model in that moment, wearing her luxurious fur and her oversized sunglasses. A Rolls Royce sat idling at the curb, waiting to whisk her away to the international Apparation point so that she could make her way back to New York in time for some fabulous party or other.
“Take care, Milly,” Draco said with a grin, helping her into the car. She took off her sunglasses and glared up at him from where she sat.
“You know I hate that name,” she said. “I only ever use it for business.”
“I know,” Draco said cheerfully, “it’s the only reason I ever use it.”
“Prat,” Millicent returned affectionately. She moved to pull the door closed, but then looked at him again. “That Hermione Granger really is looking gorgeous these days,” she said nonchalantly. “And you, my dear, really are very oblivious. Do stop acting like a fool, yes?”
Draco chuckled to himself as he watched her car speed off through the London traffic. Making his way back into the Phoenix, he stepped onto the lift and punched the button to the penthouse floor, formulating what he would say to Hermione in his mind. He knew that it was in her nature to hang back to tie up loose ends, and he also knew that everyone else had already left for their respective homes. Now was as good an opportunity as any to explain everything to her.
Whistling lightly, he made his way down the hallway and pushed open the door to the penthouse. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.
“Come to dinner with me tonight, Hermione,” Blaise was saying, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. Hermione smiled shyly as she looked up at him.
“I don’t know, Blaise,” she said, and Draco winced at the breathy way she said his name. “It’s been a long day.”
“That it has,” Blaise agreed easily, “but perhaps I could convince you…?” And he tilted his head towards Hermione, agonizingly slow as he inched closer to the lips that Draco had envisioned over and over again just the previous night, and -
“Alright, that’s it,” Draco said, striding into the room.
“Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, glaring at him, “what the hell are you still doing here?”
“Yeah, mate,” Blaise drawled, “you’ve just interrupted a private moment.”
Draco smiled humourlessly at the pair of them. “I need to speak to you,” he said, levelling a steady gaze at Hermione.
“Do you? Well, that’s unfortunate,” Hermione bit out, “as I was already speaking to Blaise.”
Blaise smirked at his old housemate and made a show of taking Hermione’s hand in his own. “Have a good night, Malfoy,” he said, brushing past him.
Blaise had just pressed the button for the lift when Draco decided that a desperate Draco Malfoy would not be outdone. Sprinting towards the lift, he saw Blaise step one foot inside it, Hermione readying herself to follow him. Reaching out, he took a hold of her free hand and yanked, catching Blaise off-guard and sending an equally surprised Hermione stumbling into his arms, her other hand losing its grip on Blaise’s. Turning on the spot, Draco Apparated them directly to the first place he thought of - his office.
~
“What. The. FUCK,” Hermione said slowly, voice dangerously low, once she had regained her bearings only to realise that she was standing in the middle of Draco’s office. Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?” she said.
“You are,” Draco said quietly. Hermione’s eyes flew open.
“Well, thanks,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. “You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you? What with the pushing her away and all.”
“Hermione, I - ”
But Hermione neatly sidestepped the hands that he held out towards her with a beseeching look on his face and glared at him.
“You’re a right prick, Malfoy, you know that?”
“Yes, I know, and I - ”
“You really had me thinking that I liked you, and then it turns out you’re just leading me on, just looking for a laugh - ”
“What! No, Hermione, I - ”
“Yes!” Hermione exclaimed, eyes burning bright and fierce in her flushed face, hair slipping out of its elegant knot.
“Hermione, no,” Draco pleaded, striding forward, matching every step Hermione took back. Hermione soon found herself backed against his desk, and Draco took advantage of her vulnerable position and cupped her face in his hands, fingers trembling slightly.
“Hermione, listen to me,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “I - OW! FUCK!” Draco dropped to the floor, cradling his nose. “’Oody ‘ell,” he groaned. Hermione gasped, staring from her clenched fist to the blood streaming out of his nose and over his hands.
“Oh my God! Draco, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, crouching beside him. She fumbled around in her purse for her wand, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally pulled it out. Touching gentle fingers to his cheek, she turned his face towards her and murmured healing and cleansing charms, fighting to ignore the way Draco’s eyes followed her movements in a piercing gaze.
“Thank you,” he said, when she knelt back to indicate that she was finished.
“I’m so sorry, Draco,” she said, regarding him sadly.
“I am, too,” he replied. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling of his office. “I was such a fucking idiot last night, and all I could think about was how much I really did want you, you know, and - ”
“And you’re just a big, fat girl,” Hermione interrupted. Draco glanced at her, only to find, to his surprise, that she was smiling at him. “I understand; I really do. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy would be the one to wear the skirt in this relationship?” she said, eyes gleaming mischievously.
Draco slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, as Hermione crept over him on her hands and knees.
“I know you want me,” Hermione said softly, lips hovering over his own. Draco found himself tantalized by the familiar smell of peaches. “And you know I want you. You’re an idiot, but I like that you’re an idiot for my sake. I haven’t got any diseases; I trust you don’t either, so let’s just put all the shit behind us and get on with it.”
Draco smirked, looking into her darkened eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that it’s incredibly sexy when you outline a viable plan, Ms. Granger?” he asked, reaching up to run a finger along her bottom lip. His eyes narrowed as she took it into her mouth and bit down lightly.
“Yes, of course,” she said sweetly, laughing when Draco growled and flipped her over so that he was the one hovering over her.
“Is that what this is,” he asked, studying her closely. “A relationship?”
“I might be convinced to,” Hermione murmured, echoing his words from the previous night.
This time, it was definitely Draco who kissed Hermione first. He nipped at her lips lightly, shifting to press a trail of kisses that led down the pale, graceful column of her neck. Hermione sighed happily at the sensations, reaching her fingers up to run them through Draco’s hair. Biting her lip when Draco reached a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat, she spread her legs, allowing him to settle more comfortably between them. He ran a hand lightly along the outside of her thigh, and Hermione growled low in her throat as he inched the hem of her dress up agonizingly slowly.
“Impatient, are we?” Draco murmured with a chuckle.
“Just get on with it, Draco,” Hermione said crossly, moaning loudly when he pushed two fingers underneath her knickers and thrust them into her, discerning for himself how wet she already was.
“Fuck,” Draco breathed, eyes stormy as they watched her face contorted in pleasure. She was burning hot around his fingers, wet walls clamping down tightly as he stroked in and out of her. He thumbed her clit while he fingered her, her arousal soaking him. He slid his other hand up and palmed a breast in his hand, rolling the nipple around with two fingers over the material of her dress, eliciting another gasp and moan from her. He could feel how much she wanted him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.
Hermione was gasping now, eyes screwed shut as she concentrated on the pleasure that ran through her, pulling tight at her body underneath Draco’s ministrations. She ran a hand down his chest, marvelling at the hard planes she could feel underneath the thin material of his jumper. She fumbled with the buckle of his belt, faltering slightly when Draco flicked at her clit with his thumb. Opening her eyes, she grinned wickedly up at him as she finally got his belt and zipper undone. Slipping a hand underneath his boxers, she watched him closely as she stroked him, loving the way a muscle in his jaw worked and the way he swallowed hard on every upstroke, eyes dark with his arousal.
When she withdrew her hand from around him to taste the bead of pre-cum that had gathered on a finger, Draco’s control snapped. Uttering an oath underneath his breath, he shoved his trousers and boxers down around his knees, wordlessly banishing her knickers and casting a contraceptive charm before running his hands down to her knees to push them apart further, opening her completely to his heated gaze.
The two of them groaned in unison when he finally entered her, slowly sheathing himself entirely. And then Hermione laughed breathlessly, even as her walls contracted tightly around him, making him curse again.
“What’s so funny, Granger?” Draco asked grumpily, although the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
“Won’t you get carpet burn?” Hermione asked seriously, breath hitching at the end of her sentence as Draco withdrew nearly all of the way and thrust back into her swiftly, filling her entirely.
“Worth it,” Draco muttered, moving his hips faster now. Hermione lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist, her head dropping back as she moaned with every thrust. Draco dipped his head to kiss her fully as he moved within her, moving his hand down again to finger her clit. The combined sensations had Hermione seeing stars as she fell over the edge, her scream swallowed by Draco’s kiss. He followed her moments later, hips stilling as he spilled into her, groaning her name into her hair. Hermione sighed when he pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back, allowing him to pull her against his chest. Pressing her ear to his heart, she smiled as she listened to his rapid heartbeat begin to slow down.
“How are your knees?” she asked softly, watching as Draco lifted her hand to entangle their fingers together. Draco chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“They’ve never been better.”
~
Half an hour, a good amount of snuggling, and one joke about the silver embroidered Snitches on Draco’s green silk boxers later, Hermione’s stomach decided to insert itself into the conversation.
“Dinner time,” Draco agreed, getting to his feet to straighten out his appearance and helping Hermione to do the same. “How does sushi sound?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand in his.
“Sushi sounds lovely,” Hermione replied, smiling as he drew her towards him to kiss her soundly.
Pulling away from him with more than a little bit of difficulty and regret, Hermione reached out to twist the knob to the door of Draco’s office, swinging it open to find the entire office staring at them.
“Oh, hi, Draco!” Hannah called out, waving cheerfully.
“Yes, hello, Hermione,” Lavender said, glaring daggers at the other girl.
“Ah, there you two are,” Luna said, munching on a handful of popcorn that she had just filched from the enormous bucket that sat on Colin’s lap. “Can we see your Snitches, Draco?”
“Right,” Draco said, taking Hermione with him as he stepped slowly backwards into the room. “I’m going to have to think about that one.” And then he slammed the door shut, scowling when he turned to find Hermione doubled over in laughter. “It’s not funny, Hermione,” he said haughtily.
“They’re such cute Snitches, though,” Hermione said, eyes twinkling merrily. “Shame to deprive the masses.” She backed up slowly as Draco began stalking towards her, a rakish sort of grin on his face. Cornering her against a bookcase, he leaned an arm along the side of her head, running his other fingers slowly up her bare arm. She shivered even as she arched an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Care to see my Snitches again, Granger?” he murmured, lips hovering enticingly just above her own. “I’ve still got the keys to that penthouse suite.”
Outside of Draco Malfoy’s office, the crowd gathered in front of the door heard the happy, feminine laugh that preceded the pop of Apparation.
“Even educated fleas do it, you know,” Luna said, smiling dreamily at something just over Dennis’s head. She winked at him roguishly when he merely gaped at her with a confused expression. “Fall in love, that is.”
~
Birds do it, bees do it.
Even educated fleas do it.
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
-Cole Porter
Fin.