A/N - Written for the FuHQFest over at Granger Enchanted in 2012. - That's right. You read that right. ;D
Prompt : Bored with Ministry work, Hermione takes up the post as Sports Reporter for the Daily Prophet, much to Harry and Ron's amusement. Her first sport Quidditch her first interview- the world famous Keeper/Chaser/Beater who is wary of reporters after the last one blackmailed him into sexual favours after being caught with his pants down and on top of the Minister's wife!
Greener Pastures
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Hermione stayed silent, her face twisted in disapproval as she waited patiently for Ron to stop laughing.
She had decided, in her infinite wisdom, to reveal her new job during one of the weekly Weasley dinners that she rather enjoyed. As far as Hermione was concerned, her choice to cut down her working hours at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in order to search for greener pastures wasn't that much of a surprise. After spending years sacrificing her time, her social life as well as blood and sweat for one department after another in the Ministry of Magic, it was time to spread her wings and look for something to get herself excited about.
It was true that her new choice of profession was very much unlike her, but if she was going to be honest with herself, she would have to admit that that was the main reason why she chose it in the first place. It had been pure coincidence, really. She was told that the Daily Prophet was looking for journalists since the recent scandal that had shaken the wizarding world's most popular newspaper. It was discovered that a few well-known journalists had been making allegations against some very powerful people without getting their facts checked first. What occurred was some shoddy reporting where facts were embellished and lies spread like wildfire.
Hermione had snorted in amusement when she had found this out. It surprised her how wizards and witches alike could have been so ignorant as to the Daily Prophet's ability to twist the most mundane events to suit their needs, when she had known about their shady journalism from her fourth year of Hogwarts, thanks to the relentless Rita Skeeter and her then victim, Harry Potter. Regardless, she had taken an interest in the new image that the Daily Prophet was trying to cultivate.
She had been successful in everything she had ever done. The organisation she built employed hundreds of witches and wizards of all blood types whose firm goal was to ensure that creatures in the magical world—especially house elves— were not mistreated. She singlehandedly introduced a Bill of Equality that passed through the Ministry of Magic with a positive two-thirds majority vote. Thanks to her friendship with Harry, who was the current Head Auror, they had painstakingly altered the judicial system to ensure that each person accused of a crime was given a free trial so as to ensure that no innocent person was ever sent to Azkaban for a crime that he or she had never committed. And recently, Hermione had thrown her hat into the ring to get investors involved in the finances of St. Mungo's in a purely charity-based exercise so that free health care could be given to all those who could not afford it.
Everything was running smoothly. She had competent people who worked for her, who scrutinised the everyday goings-on of all her projects and who provided detailed reports whenever Hermione needed an update. She had done all that she had ever wanted to do, and more. And now, she could not help but feel reckless in her success. What was one to do when all has been achieved? Hermione's answer came in the form of a new job offer.
Even though Hermione was still the head of her organisation and still an employee of the Ministry of Magic, she found the idea of being a part-time journalist terribly interesting. She always did like writing; how could she not after writing essay upon essay during her Hogwarts years? And she was quite creative, since her holidays were usually spent either at the library or procuring a new skill. Her teacher at Creative Writing Class always encouraged her to put pen to paper—or in the wizarding world, quill to parchment—and let her creativity soar. As flattered as she was by the attention, Hermione never considered taking writing seriously except for an exam. She had a plan in place; a plan that included her changing the mind-set of those who wanted to oppress the weak.
Years later, when the opportunity arose, she took it. Unfortunately for her, by the time she considered it, weighed it, fretted over it and completed a comprehensive list of pros and cons, there was only one writing job available.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione rolled her eyes as her best friend chuckled—nay laughed uproariously—as he held a side of his stomach from the pain. It had been a snicker at first, but when she confirmed that she wasn't joking, Ron had lost all semblance of control. As one by one the members of the Weasley family got their laughter out of the way, Ron was still very much red-faced and boisterously loud.
"You're joking!" he said between gasps of air. "You must be."
"It's not that hard to believe, Ronald." As if his family could provide her with the proof, Hermione looked at them all hopefully. "Is it?"
Molly Weasley looked at her sympathetically. "Well, dear, it certainly is ambitious."
"Ambitious?" Ron looked like he was ready to pass out. "Hermione trying to cook without your help is ambitious. Hermione trying to… trying to…" He couldn't finish the sentence, instead, letting out a loud laugh as he shook his head.
A burst of noise to her right made her head whip around. Harry tried very hard to hide his laughter with a large napkin, but failed terribly at it.
"Harry!"
Her best friend put down the napkin as calmly as he could. Unfortunately for him, she could easily see the way he pressed his lips together to force himself not to laugh. He looked away from her, almost as if seeing her made it all the more amusing.
It was a good thing Ginny was always on Hermione's side.
A good swift kick under the table made her best friend flinch. "Ow," he muttered, his previous good mood forgotten. "What was that for?"
Ginny glared at her husband. "Apologise," she said with a meaningful look.
Pouting in a way that reminded Hermione of their only son, Harry looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, Hermione." But no sooner did the words leave his mouth, Harry's gaze meet Ron's and they both started laughing with renewed vigour.
Hermione huffed in frustration. "Honestly, you two." The scratching of quill against parchment suddenly drew Hermione's attention. "What are you doing?"
George and Arthur Weasley looked up from the notes they were writing. "Nothing," they said in an all too familiarly innocent tone that Hermione knew was fake.
A simple Accio spell fixed that.
Her eyes widened when she looked over the piece of parchment.
"It's a new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product," said George, helpfully. "It's called…" He cleared his throat for effect. "What would Hermione do?"
Hermione's gaze narrowed.
"Dad was helping me with the particulars." At least Arthur had the decency to look sheepish when she turned her glare on him. "It's a trivia game about the various sports, both wizarding and Muggle. The trick is to get the right 'wrong answer'. The person with the most 'wrong answers' is the winner."
Ginny cocked her head to the side in question. "What happens to the loser?"
George grinned. "The loser gets Hermione's hair!" As Hermione pulled out her wand, George couldn't help but continue. "The caption will read, 'Sorry, love. You don't have her brains, so keep the hair.'"
This only succeeded in making everyone around the table burst out laughing, except for Arthur, who still looked quite embarrassed.
Ordinarily, Hermione would have handled this her own way. But considering the place she was at and the company, she had no choice but to act like a Weasley.
"Mrs Weasley!" she whined in complaint, ignoring the fact that she was a grown woman who was expected to act her age.
Molly cleared her throat and looked at her older son sternly. "You stop that right now. And promise Hermione you would do no such thing."
George opened his mouth, shut it, then parted his lips once again in contemplation before he finally spoke. "I'll give you fifty percent of the profits."
"Shut it, George."
"Ginny!"
"Sorry, Mum." The red-head turned to Hermione with a look of determination on her features. "Now that we have all gotten used to the idea of you being a Sports Reporter—" Ginny glared at Ron when he burst out laughing once again before she decided to ignore him. "Have you been given your first assignment?"
For the first time that night, Hermione squirmed. "Well, yes."
"What is it?"
Hermione looked up to see all the Weasleys and Harry eyeing her curiously. "Quidditch," she muttered under her breath.
But they all had heard her. And except for Molly and Arthur who were too polite to show anything but amusement, the others burst out laughing once again.
Ginny's eyes widened before she glared at the others to keep them quiet. "What do you have to write about… that sport?" It was obvious that Ginny thought refraining from mentioning the word might take away the amusement, somewhat.
Hermione decided to follow her friend's example and try to keep her words as vague as possible. "I have to do an interview."
"That sounds exciting."
"It is," Hermione said half-heartedly.
"Then it should be exactly what you need. Who will you be interviewing?"
Hermione paused, shifted in her chair and moved her plate a little to the right so that it was perfectly in the middle. "The one person who has been avoiding interviews the past year."
At their collectively confused expressions, Hermione sighed. "Draco Malfoy." She winced as she said the name. And as she expected, her announcement was met with a few seconds of silence until another burst of sound erupted from around the table.
Of course, because he couldn't quite control his laughter, Ron fell off his chair. His groan of pain made her feel infinitely better.
Hermione shifted in her seat as her foot bounced nervously. She had been briefed—more than once—as to the severity of Draco Malfoy's views on journalists. They were never friends during their Hogwarts years; if anything, they had been quite good enemies who had stood at the opposite side of all battles while they kept score as to their wins and losses. All Hermione knew of the post-Hogwarts Malfoy was what she read about in the very paper she now worked for.
After the Second Wizarding War, the Ministry had placed a suspicious eye on all who had, at one point or another, supported Voldemort in his quest to kill Harry and rid the world of Muggles. Among some of the most well-known and wealthy, ancient pure-blood families were the Malfoys. Hermione had heard rumours that centred around the Ministry taking over the family finances under the pretence of investigation, while the true purpose was to ensure that the Malfoys were not given any opportunity to run.
A fully-stocked Wizengamot found Lucius Malfoy guilty of crimes against the Ministry and he was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand, had gone into hiding. While before she had appeared in the society pages of the Daily Prophet to show support to her family, now that the Malfoy family name was nothing more than a colourful insult, she was nowhere to be seen. All of this was very much expected. The surprise came by the form of the unlikely behaviour from the one and only heir to Malfoy Manor.
Draco Malfoy soon became a most talked-about topic in the wizarding world. At first, it was the boisterous behaviour and consumption of copious amounts of Firewhisky that gave everyone the opportunity to put their heads together and whisper in hushed tones. But soon after, it was his choices that drew their attention even more. No one had expected that Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater and rumoured Death Eater himself, would try out for and succeed to be a Chaser for the popular Falmouth Falcons.
Most people thought that it was fitting that someone who once supported the Dark Lord would join the one Quidditch team that had no qualms about violence. Their motto, 'Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads,' sounded perfectly Malfoy to Hermione. Although, admittedly, not the best of the best when it came to Quidditch teams, the Falcons did something that no other team would have done: accepted Draco Malfoy.
When she was told of the assignment, Hermione's first impulse was to refuse. She had decided to become a journalist for selfish reasons that had nothing to do with the amount of money they paid. She had been edged out because of perfectly hired people who she trusted to do their jobs. She had found herself without a cause, without a direction or a goal to strive for. But after a moment of reflection, she started eyeing the assignment as her new project. It was difficult; how could it not be when Draco Malfoy was the most popular Quidditch player to refuse interviews in the one year he had played professionally? From what Harry and Ron had spoken about his abilities, she could sense a grudging admittance that he might not be as useless as a Chaser, as he once was as a Seeker.
But this didn't mean that Hermione didn't dread meeting her childhood enemy in such amiable, yet hostile circumstances. She had been kept waiting for the past half hour in a small room with a settee and a chair that was said to be close to the changing rooms. As a Ministry official, Hermione had never liked being kept waiting, and this was no exception.
At first, she had gone over her notes and questions that she had painstakingly prepared. After reading so many articles and books on Quidditch, she fancied herself an expert on the subject and wanted nothing more than to show off her knowledge. But soon that activity began to tire her. Then she started imagining what she would say to him from the moment he walked through that door. Would he recognise her? Would he pretend not to know her? Would he walk in pompously, say some vague statements and leave without acknowledging her?
She knew Malfoy well enough to know that they were all a possibility. So, it was completely by chance and without thought, that a few minutes before Malfoy entered the room, Hermione was standing in front of a small mirror, wand in hand, and playing with her features. She had changed the appearance of her hair using a glamour charm, taking the unruly, messy curls and shaping it so that it looked luscious in its curves. She altered her eye colour, turning it almost black with intensity. And even though she was never known to wear make-up unless forced to, she changed the appearance of her lips, making them red, plump and inviting.
It amused her how different she looked by the small glamour charm. She had altered minor details in her looks; things that could have been changed in the Muggle world with good hair products, the right make-up and coloured contacts. She was cocking her head to the side and appraising herself, wondering if Malfoy would recognise her if she changed her appearance, when the same person she was to interview burst through the door like a force to be reckoned with.
Draco Malfoy was immaculate in his dark robes. His hair was slicked back in a way that reminded her of his father. If it weren't for the stray blond curl that had fallen against his forehead, she would have thought him to be Lucius through and through. For a moment Hermione had forgotten that she had been amusing herself by changing her appearance, until his gaze narrowed suspiciously.
"Do I know you?"
Hermione froze. "Um…"
He squinted at her for a moment longer before he huffed out his displeasure. "No matter. You're here to do an interview, I'm here because I'm forced to do an interview, so let's get it over with, shall we?"
Hermione bristled at his rude behaviour, but kept her composure nonetheless. "Please sit, Mr Malfoy. I'm sure you would want me to get this over with just as much as I do."
Malfoy's expression was neutral as he took the seat she offered him. He sat down gracefully, the way she remembered his every movement being all those years ago in Hogwarts. He might not have had the same amount of Galleons to his name, but he did still possess a sense of sophisticated movement that Hermione had always secretly admired. Apparently, years later, it was impossible to separate the Malfoy from the money.
"Well then," he said. "What droll questions am I supposed to answer now?"
Hermione couldn't help but understand how no interview with Draco Malfoy had ever been published. He answered every question she asked with a question of his own, hinting underhandedly, and without proof, as to the secretive behaviour of some of the most respectable wizards and witches in history. When she asked him how it felt to be recruited by the Falmouth Falcons, he replied with, "Does Trey Grodge drink Eye of Newt?" When she questioned him on his reluctance to do interviews, he asked her, "Do you think Ren Frunt likes doing interviews when he's selling trolls to travellers?" It was blatantly apparent that nothing Malfoy said could ever be used because, technically, he never answered any of her questions. If the Daily Prophet or any other newspaper was to print such an interview they would become the laughing stock of the wizarding community.
After the twentieth question Hermione had lost her patience and a little bit of her sanity. He sat across from her as smug as Gilderoy Lockhart had once been before his memory was compromised; but unlike her once favourite author, Malfoy eyed her carefully, as if he was trying to piece together something where she was the main component. Part of her was amused that he couldn't recognise her while another part of her couldn't help but let her teeth worry her bottom lip apprehensively.
Once she had gone through every single question she had prepared and painstakingly tried and failed to get him to answer her questions properly, she sat up straight and said, "Thank you, Mr Malfoy." And just for spite's sake, she also couldn't help but say in a dry tone, "You were most helpful."
Malfoy's expression gave nothing away. His eyes squinted slightly in concentration, as if he was studying her every move, when she gathered her things and prepared to leave. Keeping her head down and trying her best to ignore how self-conscious she felt, Hermione rushed unnecessarily and nearly dropped her bag in the process. In the end, she stood up gracefully, nodded her acknowledgement without really looking at him, and started for the door. She stopped in surprise when she felt his hand grab hers.
Malfoy raised on immaculate eyebrow in question. "That's all?"
Confused, Hermione tried to pull her hand away but to no avail. "Yes. I believe we went through all the questions."
His grip on her hand tightened, although not too tightly. "We are finished, then?"
Again, Hermione stared at him as she wondered why he looked at her as if he didn't trust a word that she was saying. "Mr Malfoy…"
He stood up swiftly and pulled her so close that his nose could have easily bumped hers. "You're not from the Daily Prophet. Who are you?" His tone was soft and controlled; calm, even.
Deciding against struggling to free her hand, Hermione simply looked directly into the eyes of the one person she had despised when she was a simple child who was trying to do her best in her studies. "I'm the new journalist at the Daily Prophet, Mr Malfoy. If you don't believe me, you could always owl the office."
He still eyed her suspiciously, regardless of the truth she spoke of. "Marion Felling usually interviews me."
It was Hermione's turn to raise an eyebrow as to how out of touch this world-renowned Quidditch player seemed to be. "Marion Felling was let go."
He was surprised by the news. "When?"
"A few months back. Apparently, she was the reason why the Daily Prophet lost more than half of their readership." At his confused look, she continued. "She was known for spreading lies. She didn't have sources, no proof as to what she was reporting. When her fake entries came to light, the Board decided to replace her with a person better suited to be the editor of the newspaper."
If she had expected any reaction, it certainly wasn't the one that he expressed. Draco Malfoy's hand loosened around hers as he looked away. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could have sworn that he chuckled under his breath. Yet, even though his behaviour was no doubt interesting, Hermione didn't want to stay longer than necessary. She started once more for the exit when he suddenly took hostage of her wrist.
"Wait." This time when he looked at her, his grey eyes studied her facial features with blatant curiosity. "Why do you look so familiar?"
The way he studied her was unnerving. She could practically feel the touch of him on her skin, the way his gaze travelled from her eyes, down her nose, across her lips and up her cheekbone. It brought back memories of how a lover would look at her: the way their eyes travelled only to be followed by their fingers and then their lips. Perhaps Hermione had been single for too long, because the way he scrutinised her only made her become more aware of him. And before long, she started to squirm away.
"Wait," he said again. There was something in his eyes, something indiscernible. He stepped even closer, his goal of studying her hardly registering how much space they had between them. But Hermione knew. She could sense nothing else.
The change was sudden, but Malfoy's gaze cleared. "You look like—" He suddenly stopped, dropped her hand and stepped back. Within seconds, the neutral expression she had always known was used as a mask as he spoke once again. "I trust you have everything you might need?" he asked, his tone clipped.
Wondering if he had discovered her true identity, Hermione nodded. "Unless the new editor disagrees."
"I'm positive she will."
Without another word, Hermione finally left. And even though she managed to complete her assignment, no matter how useless it seemed, she couldn't help but fear that her interviewee had figured out who she was.
No, she decided a moment later. Draco Malfoy can't possibly be that perceptive.
As expected, the newly appointed editor of the Daily Prophet, Diana Sutton, wasn't at all impressed with the interview Hermione had conducted. She went over the notes with a raised eyebrow, her expression going from surprise to disappointment.
"This is how he answered?" she asked incredulously.
Hermione shrugged. "Each and every question."
Diana sighed. "No matter. I just feel bad that the first assignment I gave you didn't amount to anything."
"Is there nothing we can get from it?"
"I'm afraid not. Draco Malfoy was very careful in the questions he answered. I expect he didn't treat your follow-up questions much differently."
"You're very right about that," Hermione said dryly. "But surely we can't give up."
"What else is there to do, Hermione? I could send another reporter, but I doubt he would be any more receptive."
Biting her lower lip thoughtfully, Hermione thought of the peculiar behaviour Malfoy betrayed when he found out that the former editor who was no longer at the Daily Prophet. "You told me that the Daily Prophet interviewed Malfoy regularly."
"Yes," Diana said with a shrug. "It was usually Marion who did the interviews."
"Didn't you find it strange that she interviewed Malfoy so many times yet no article was written about him? Or that the editor herself took on a simple task as an interview instead of sending someone in the Sports Department to cover it?"
Diana's smile was coy. "To tell you the truth, Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one who Marion paid special attention to. There was the husband of a pure-blood socialite, the owner of a well-known company and a former professor of Hogwarts. She met them all regularly, and when she was caught, she always said the same thing: she was conducting an interview. For years we watched her leave during working hours or take long lunch breaks for all these 'interviews', but never once did she write an article on any of them."
"She had so many willing participants?" Hermione couldn't help but ask as her thoughts centred on a certain former Death Eater.
Again, Diana's smile didn't hide the fact that she knew much, much more. "I'm afraid that the husband of the pure-blood socialite is a friend of mine. He told me that Marion had caught him doing something that he didn't want anyone to know. I doubt their encounters were completely consensual."
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. The nerve of some people was simply unbelievable. "You think the same can be told of all of her…encounters?"
"Oh, I don't think, I know." At Hermione's curious expression, Diana continued. "What my friend said piqued my interest. I did my own investigative work, which is how I figured out that the Daily Prophet wasn't reporting anything accurate."
"And Draco Malfoy?"
Diana leaned forward as if she was about to divulge a most interesting secret. "Marion caught him with the Minister's wife. Draco Malfoy certainly got around."
Hermione wasn't too sure whether to blanch in disgust or laugh at the irony of it all. She couldn't help but think that maybe she had judged Rita Skeeter a bit too harshly while a small part of her sympathised with Malfoy's plight. "I almost feel sorry for him."
Diana chuckled. "No matter. I suppose that's another few hours that you've wasted, and which I'm extremely sorry for."
"No," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I said I'll get you an interview and I will get you an interview."
"But he—"
"It might be difficult, but I think I can persuade him."
If Diana had any doubts, she didn't question Hermione on it.
When Hermione returned to meet with her least-favourite Quidditch player, she went as herself. She didn't inform anyone where she was going simply because she believed firmly in the element of surprise. It would force them to act in a way that she could easily nudge them into. She was convinced that this was going to be one of those circumstances.
She had already done her research. She knew the team's practice time and she knew that Malfoy was usually the last to enter the Quidditch pitch.
Hermione Apparated close by before she hid herself easily and waited for the Quidditch team to enter one by one for the half an hour warm ups they usually did before the coach showed up. She watched them all pass her in the hall: the female Falcon who was known to elbow wizards in the opposing team, the tall Beater who once sent Oliver Wood to St. Mungos by doing a dangerous and therefore, an illegal move, the Chaser who was known to practice by chasing little children. One by one, six people passed her, and Hermione eagerly waited for the seventh.
Had Hermione Granger been petty, she would have taken great pride in the way Draco Malfoy had suddenly stopped the minute he saw her in the empty hall leading to the Quidditch pitch. He seemed bigger somehow, dressed in his Quidditch gear with the latest popular broom in one hand. He seemed focused and determined, until he saw her. As if a shock had suddenly gone through his body, he paused, his eyes widening a fraction when his eyes studied the different hair, the eyes and the lips.
"I knew it!"
Hermione stared at him in surprise. "You knew?"
"I had a suspicion." And just like that, he was back to that thirteen-year-old boy who disliked her in her entirety. "What do you want, Granger?" he asked in a bored tone as he came closer.
"I want a proper interview."
"I gave you a proper interview."
"Not by my standards."
He smirked. "You must be having some unreachably high standards."
Hermione scoffed while she raised a defiant chin towards him. "You only think that they are unreachable because you have such unbelievably low standards."
She never expected to see a sparkle in his eye as he eyed her appreciatively. "I'm glad you decided to keep your hair like this. If it weren't for your hideous curls, no one would recognise you since you have no discernible traits."
Hermione's smile was humourless. "I could say the same thing for your hair. Without such blinding whiteness, no one would even know you exist."
He raised a mocking eyebrow at her. "Is that going to be your next article, Granger? I can see it now! Problems pulling your hair out?"
She cocked her head to the side. "And who do you think would be my first subject?"
"Me, of course. No one has hair like mine."
"True," she said thoughtfully. "Although the article would be about those who are bald, which definitely can be arranged."
His smirk widened to an all out grin, and Hermione was suddenly aware that she was flirting with Draco Malfoy. It was time to leave.
"Like I said, I expect the interview I was promised. Have a good practice, Malfoy."
But before she could leave, once again, Malfoy grabbed a hold of her. "The way I see it, Granger, you owe me."
She eyed him in defiance. "How'd you figure?"
Perhaps she should have seen it coming, but it only took a moment for his gaze to trace her face as he whispered, "I knew it was you," before his lips surprisingly, and not very gently captured hers. Hermione's eyes widened as he dropped his broom and pushed her up against the closest wall.
When he finally lifted his lips from hers, Hermione was upset to find that she was quite breathless. "What—?"
"I'm only letting happen what should have happened when you came to me after the Battle of Hogwarts."
He bent down to kiss her once again, but Hermione moved her head to the side. "I didn't go to you. You happened to be outside on the grounds."
He smirked as he bent closer so that his warm breath touched the side of her jaw. "And then you kissed me."
"You kissed me!"
He let his lips lightly brush against the column of her neck, and against her will, Hermione gasped at the contact. "I remember it going quite differently." He pressed his body against hers so completely that she could hardly move. "I remember you on the grass…" he whispered in her ear. "The feel of your breathing…" She felt his thumb stroke her breast in a way that caused her nipple to harden under the layers of clothes. "Your leg around my waist…" He bit the tip of her ear as his other hand fiddled with her robes.
"Malfoy…" She meant the word to come out as a protest, but instead his name left her lips breathlessly, sounding very much like a plea for something. His lips caught hers passionately then, his tongue forcing her to surrender and cause her to respond in kind. She didn't think as to where they were and the possibilities of getting caught. The wall was hard against her back as the force of his kiss flattened her against it. She felt the fumbling and the bunching of material only to let her moan be swallowed by him when she felt his fingers touch her through her knickers. He parted her thighs effortlessly, silently nudging her up against the wall so she could circle her legs around his waist. His kisses became more forceful, more needy. Their gasping breaths mingled as she felt him stroke her already wet knickers, and she encouraged him by thrusting her hips forward when he pushed her knickers aside and entered a finger into her.
Hermione gasped at the sensation as she pulled away from his kiss. so that she could close her eyes and enjoy this feeling that she hadn't felt in so long. Malfoy attacked her throat with clumsy wet kisses as he added a second finger, slowly followed by a third. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from making a sound, but she couldn't stop the way she writhed against him wantonly as he pulled out his fingers and pushed them in roughly. He started slow; too slow that she moved her own hips to speed him up, but soon, his fingers were thrusting into her so fast that she was close. It only took him whispering, "Come for me, Granger," for her body to stiffen and reach its peak.
She was still coming down from the high when she felt him fiddle with his Quidditch uniform. She didn't quite comprehend that what they were doing was far from over. Within seconds, her knickers were pushed aside once more as he entered her roughly. Hermione bit her lower lip at the sensation even as Malfoy smirked at her.
"This is what we should have done a long time ago, Granger."
She didn't listen to him, choosing instead to kiss the snark out of him. His fingers curled in her hair as his hips began to move quickly. It was the weirdest sensation to be fucked right against a wall while she still had on her robes and Malfoy still adorned the Falcon uniform. He was clunky with no skin to cling to, yet Hermione held onto him tightly as his hips met hers again and again in a series of thrusts that became faster with each passing second.
Before long, they were both breathing so heavily that their lips were simply parted against each other. She could feel his fingers curl around her arse tightly, which in turn encouraged her to pull his blond hair roughly. That only served to make him move quicker, a fact that she wholly encouraged by the speed of which she met him with her hips.
"You like that?" he whispered in her ear breathlessly. "Do you like how hard I'm fucking you?"
Hearing him swear made her contract around him. He pounded into her faster, causing her to gasp each time he swore how much he loved the feel of her pussy in her ear.
Finally, when they did reach the brink, they did it together. Malfoy squeezed one of her clothed breasts before his fingers travelled downward and rubbed the bundle of nerves through her knickers. It felt rough, sensitive, and it only caused the knot in her belly to tighten that much faster. When she did reach her release, and Malfoy his, his teeth were embedded in her neck while her nails were embedded in his.
They stayed like that for a moment, each catching their breath before he let her down gently. Suddenly mortified by her own performance, Hermione straightened her robes only to realise in dismay that in their haste, she now had a large rip that needed to be fixed. After tucking himself in, Malfoy, on the other hand, looked very much like his same self, except for his hair, which was now far from neat.
"We should do this again."
Hermione pursed her lips. "This is not happening again."
"And yet," Malfoy said with a smirk, "I don't believe you."
Pulling her closer with one swift move, he kissed her.
"See you at the next interview, Granger." He nipped at her neck playfully before he whispered against her ear, "I think it's time I demand that I speak only to one reporter, don't you?"
With those as his parting words, he turned on his heel and started for the Quidditch pitch, leaving Hermione to contemplate the best way to hand in her resignation to the Daily Prophet. But perhaps, considering how flushed and satisfied she felt, that letter could wait until after her next interview with Draco Malfoy.
The END