With love from me to you. xx

Thank you to Rose on my Facebook page for the prompt. I'd already had an idea of writing something with them stuck together travelling, so this idea leapt out at me. Sexy smutelicious little one-shot for my OTP. Enjoy. LL x (Oh, and there'll be more Through A Glass Darkly very, very soon ... May be worth revisiting it to refamiliarise yourselves with what's been going on.)

Unlike many of her wizarding contemporaries, Hermione Granger loved plane travel. Most aspects of it, at least. She'd never been great on take-offs and landings, if truth be told, but once she was airborne she loved the feeling of power propelling her forward, no magic involved. Some things, long distance travel and sex being the two that sprang readily to mind, were best done the Muggle way.

The Ministry had booked her on the last flight of the day, travelling from London to New York for a conference after prevarication as to whether she needed attend or not. She was vital to their operations back in London, they'd said. But at the last minute, they'd booked her in.

Most witches and wizards, wary of the seemingly improbable Muggle technology of aeroplanes, still preferred travelling on Mermaid, the magical trans-Atlantic liner which sailed undetected back and forth across the ocean. The Ministry's insistence that senior Ministry officials and significant witches and wizards still on Special Measures after the war go to the League of Magical Nations' Reform and Reconciliation Conference meant that many people had left for New York days before by ship. Some had simply tried to avoid going, but the Ministry had caught up with them all, apparently.

Hermione was hopeful, however, of not bumping into any colleagues on the flight. She was the last to leave, as far as she could tell, unless of course one or two of the last minute round ups had been booked on with her. That was the last thing she wanted. Those who had tried to escape going were all on Special Measures and included several Death Eaters. Hermione understood the need to make Voldemort's former followers go to the reform conference, but why they had to have Ministry subsidised air travel and luxury accommodation, she did not know. The Minister's notion of renewed fairness and equality sat ill with her on occasions like this.

After exhausting the stimulation provided by staring at the dreary grey tarmac out of the plane window, Hermione picked out the in-flight magazine and glanced through it: 'The best fish restaurants in Seattle', 'Denver – still riding high'. Her mind was not in the mood for vague travel recommendations. She flicked to the duty free section. Perfume for Ginny? Booze for Neville? The single seat beside her was the only vacant one left and she was increasingly optimistic it would remain so.

But, no.

'Tsk, not here.'

She didn't look up but was aware that a male passenger had arrived in the aisle beside her, clearly unhappy. If she wasn't in the mood for leisure recommendations, neither was she in the mood for stroppy travel companions. She resolutely kept her head down.

'Is there a problem, sir?' she heard an approaching flight attendant ask.

'I was directed to this seat, but there must be some mistake. I cannot possibly sit here.'

'May I see your boarding pass, sir?'

'My what?'

'Your boarding pass.' A pause. 'The ticket, the card that allowed you onto the flight.'

'This, you mean?'

'Yes, sir, thank you.'

Hermione smirked. The flight attendant was biting back her frustration. Still Hermione didn't look, although the man's voice was familiar to her. The flight attended continued. 'Yes, this is your seat, sir. 6B.'

The man tutted again. 'I cannot sit here.'

'Why not, sir?'

'I cannot sit next to … her.'

At this Hermione did look up. She should have known. Perhaps it was because it was all so unexpectedly out of context, but she cursed herself for not recognising the deep, arrogant tones earlier. It seems her luck had run out. The man protesting to the flight attendant was Lucius Malfoy.

'Are you acquainted with this lady, sir?' continued the flight attendant.

'Lady?' he sneered.

'Yes,' piped up Hermione. 'I know him.'

The flight attendant smiled down and addressed Hermione directly. 'Would it make you uncomfortable to have this gentleman seated beside you on a flight, madam?'

She contemplated it for a while, but if forgive and forget was the order of the day, then she'd show him how to do it. 'No.'

Malfoy tutted and continued. 'It would make me uncomfortable. She is not …' He pursed his lips.

Hermione interrupted. 'Mr Malfoy and I have history, but it is, as I said, history, in the past. We've moved on … haven't we, Mr Malfoy?'

The flight attendant tried again. 'Well, sir, I'm afraid all other seats are taken in Business Class, although I believe we have one or two in Economy, if you would prefer to sit there.'

Malfoy's annoyance fizzed off him. 'Yes, take me there.'

'Very well.' The flight attendant dashed a sympathetic glance Hermione's way before ushering Malfoy into Economy.

Hermione sighed. Typical bloody bastard. In the five years since the war the Ministry had bent over backwards to reform the surviving Death Eaters, with significant success. Clearly Malfoy was not one of the successful ones. He must have been one of the last minute Ministry round ups to be sent to the conference. At least now he'd move to Economy, although, she had to admit, she would have at least made something of an effort to tolerate him. She'd sat next to worse. There'd been that gentleman on a flight to Hong Kong whose girth had stretched amply out of his seat and who had managed to get through about twenty packets of Doritos and belch them out for the remainder of the flight. At least Lucius Malfoy was fragrant.

She smirked at her own assertion. But before the smile had faded the flight attendant was back with Malfoy close behind. She looked down apologetically. 'I'm sorry, madam. Mr Malfoy says the leg room in Economy is intolerable. He'll sit here after all.'

Hermione was hit by a combination of annoyance and tingling curiosity. She shrugged it off. 'Fine.'

'May I take your bags to put in the overhead locker, sir?' asked the flight attendant of Malfoy.

'The what?' he asked tersely.

'Your bags need to be stored under the seat in front of you or in the overhead locker.'

He considered for a while, then held the bag out to her. 'Take it.' Then, as an afterthought: 'Thank you.'

The flight attendant glanced at him and managed a smile. 'I take it you're not a frequent flyer, sir?'

'No. This is my first time in one of these … things … and only then out of necessity.' His tone of voice changed suddenly to smooth gratitude. 'But … I appreciate your attention.' Hermione smirked. He could turn on the charm when needed. Malfoy had always known how to influence people.

'Well, just let me know if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Mr Malfoy.' Despite his previous unpleasantness, the charm had clearly worked. The flight attendant smiled up at Malfoy from under her heavily daubed eyelashes.

'Oh, I will, don't worry,' he purred, and with that, he lowered himself into the seat beside Hermione.

For a while there was silence between them, but then Hermione could stand it no longer. 'I suppose I should say hello,' she said, still not looking up from her magazine.

'Don't waste your breath. I shan't.'

She opened her mouth to retort but bit it back and stared resolutely at the magazine. She'd read the headline about cowboys in Montana ten times now but hadn't registered a word. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, but then, as if no one could endure the tension any longer, Malfoy spoke.

'How long is this journey going to take?' he asked.

'I thought you weren't wasting your breath on me?'

He tutted.

There was a silence.

'About eight hours.' She couldn't help herself. Her need to answer any question got the better of her.

'Eight hours?' he repeated in clear horror.

'Yes.'

'Merlin be buggered.'

Hermione sniffed out the slightest laugh.

'What does one do on these occasions?' Malfoy asked tetchily.

'Read, sleep, watch things, listen to music … think.'

It was his turn to sigh. 'Is that what these squares in the back of the chairs are for?'

'Screens, yes. There's lots to watch.'

'But all of it Muggle?'

'Yes.' She glanced at him. 'Muggles have managed to contribute one or two things to civilisation over the centuries, you know.'

His eyebrows rose in doubt. 'I beg to differ. Most significant inventions and discoveries have been wizard directed.'

'Some, but not all or even most.'

'And there are of course those of great renown who chose not to reveal themselves as wizards. Why, I cannot fathom, but they can claim most of the greatest achievements of humankind. Shakespeare, Bach, da Vinci … wizards, all of them,' Malfoy said with a sly tone of self-satisfaction.

'Those claims remain disputed, although I concede that there is evidence to suggest they did have some magical powers. You fail to mention the witches who were real trail blazers … Cleopatra, Elizabeth I, Florence Nightingale, to name but a few. I think they were sensible to keep their magical ability secret. In any case, they succeeded not so much due to that but due simply to hard work, strength and brilliance.'

He gave a wry smirk. 'I would disagree. Magic gives us powers which invisibly and subtly alter the course of history.'

She responded flatly, 'Your magic hasn't ultimately altered history the way you wanted.'

He turned to her, his grey eyes frosty with anger. 'We do not discuss those matters any longer, Miss Granger, by recommendation of your very own department. What is the motto again? 'Forgive, Forget and Forge On.' He sneered. 'Perhaps you should remind yourself of it.'

'I wasn't the one who refused to sit down. So much for forgetting, Malfoy.'

He smiled a little, almost taking pleasure from her show of hostility. 'Oh, the claws are out now. You can't rein in your malicious spite for long, can you?'

She bit back her reply but stared hard into him. His eyes were almost silver, she noted, deep and crystal clear, his skin was smooth over high cheekbones and the faint wrinkles around his eyes gave him an air of distinction even she could not deny. And as she took deep breaths to steady her anger, she inhaled his rich, heady aroma. No wonder the flight attendant had flirted with him; she could only admit, he was undeniably and infuriatingly attractive. She closed her eyes and turned away.

Malfoy leaned forward and took out his own in-flight magazine. He looked at it disparagingly. 'What is this rubbish?'

'For once I agree. There's nothing in it. You're better off looking at the safety instructions if you've never flown before.' She leaned forward, pulled the safety card out and handed it to him.

'In the event of a problem, I should think I'm better than most to deal with it,' he crooned arrogantly.

'Even magic won't help you at 30,000 feet, Malfoy.'

He tutted and took the card, which he glanced over with a scornful grimace. 'Why are these people smiling? They are jumping out of an aeroplane into the sea and yet they are smiling?'

Hermione allowed herself a smile. 'I've often thought that. It's crazy.'

He turned and looked at her, not with a smile himself, but his expression had softened and for a moment they locked eyes with no recrimination.

'Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Captain Collins.' The announcement from the pilot brought them both round to focus on it. He took them through the flight plan and the plane began to taxi.

'Have you really never flown before?' Hermione asked.

'Never.'

'You must be nervous.'

'No.'

'Curious, then.'

'Perhaps.'

'It's quite exciting. Even now, I always get a rush of adrenalin when the power of the engines lifts us into the air.'

He cocked an eyebrow at her. 'Do you indeed?'

She felt her cheeks flushing. Hermione turned to look out of the window, but remained acutely aware of the imposing physicality of the once hated man sitting beside her.

Once hated? Did she now no longer hate him? The way he'd greeted her earlier meant that she still retained the right to, surely? But surely time should soften their animosity. If she was going to spend an entire flight next to him, they could at least be civil.

She watched through the window as the plane taxied to the head of the runway. How strange to be on a plane with Lucius Malfoy. She hadn't told him that not only did she get excited when taking off, she also got a rush of nerves. Perhaps it was the reliance on muggle technology, perhaps it was simply an irrational fear, but Hermione was never at ease during take offs. If she was sitting next to a friend, she'd probably ask to hold their hand.

The plane was positioned. She glanced at Malfoy. He had deigned to turn his head to look out.

'This must be at least interesting for you?' she asked.

'Somewhat,' he conceded.

She turned back out, that familiar quickening of her heart starting as the engines roared. The plane started its rush down the runway. She watched the ground carefully to catch the moment it fell away from her. Her mouth grew dry. Damn it. After all her flights she still had this reaction. It always passed once they reached a reasonable height but tension captured her spitefully during take off.

The plane gathered pace, the engines screamed, the tyres rolled bumpily along. She was breathing rapidly, and then, before she even knew what she was doing, her right hand darted out and clasped the first point of human contact it found: Lucius Malfoy's thigh.

She barely knew what she was touching, but it was warm and reassuringly firm. She gripped it for dear life.

And then, when the plane had at last risen to a point at which she could breathe again, she became aware of what exactly she was doing.

She turned and looked. There indeed were her slender fingers placed tightly around the black clad upper leg of a former Death Eater.

At first, she was too shocked to remove it, and her eyes moved from her hand up to Malfoy's face. He was looking down with equal shock and then too moved his gaze to hers. For a moment they were simply frozen, unable to do anything.

Then, as if burned, she darted her hand away, dropped her head and muttered, 'Sorry. I'm … a bit … I don't like take offs, sorry, I …'

He didn't respond and could only manage to clear his throat.

Hermione turned on the screen in front of her and started madly scrolling through the options. Soon after, he did the same.

They didn't speak and instead sat staring blankly at whatever was showing in front of them. Eventually the cabin crew moved along the aisle, offering drinks. It was the same flight attendant as before. 'What can I get you to drink, madam?' she asked Hermione.

'Gin and tonic,' she answered. Why not? It was a long flight to endure. She didn't intend getting hammered but something to dull the angst of take off and sitting next to Lucius Malfoy would be good.

'And for you, sir? I hope you're comfortable now?' She smiled down, her eyes lingering on him.

'Sufficiently,' he replied. 'Firewhisky, thank you.'

'Fire Whisky? I don't know that brand. We don't stock it, I'm afraid.'

'It's not a brand, it's a particular drink with … never mind. Gin then,' he huffed.

The flight attendant poured the drinks. 'How are you enjoying your first time in the air, sir? I hope it'll be spectacular for you.' She was simpering now. Hermione was getting annoyed.

'It's certainly a new experience, although I've had my fair share of interesting experiences. So far, this has outshone none.'

'Oh dear. I'll have to work harder to keep you happy then.' She finished with a seductive smile and sashayed off.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Malfoy turned to her and gave a half smile. 'Charming lady.'

'She's a muggle, remember.'

His wolf-like grin deepened. 'You never know. She may have undiscovered talents.'

'And you'd like to help her discover them, would you?'

He cocked an eyebrow. 'At least she doesn't hurl vitriol and abuse at me when I speak to her.'

'In case you hadn't noticed, Malfoy, I've tried to be perfectly pleasant to you so far.'

'Tried …' he mocked.

His predictable condescension started to rile her and she struggled to rein in her frustration. 'Which is more than I can say for you. You didn't exactly endear yourself to me earlier, but then, why break the habit of a lifetime? You set the tone at our very first meeting.'

'You remember … I'm almost flattered, Miss Granger.'

Her angry words were coming fast and heated now. 'How can I forget? Flourish and Blotts, all those years ago. You were a prejudiced, arrogant bastard them and you're a prejudiced, arrogant bastard now.'

'First impressions can be deceptive, Miss Granger.'

'First impressions? This is my umpteenth impression, Malfoy, and I've had no reason to change my mind. Your little show of humble regret after the war and your pathetic assertion that you were forced into allegiance to Voldemort to protect your family don't cut it with me.' She was leaning right into him, hissing through a clenched jaw, years of angry exasperation pouring from her.

'My my …' he mused, a faint smile on his face, as if he was enjoying her passionate rage. 'What a temper you have. It's almost stimulating.'

She threw herself back in her seat and crossed her arms. 'Urgh! I wish you'd stayed in Economy. I was going to try to be nice but I don't know how I'm going to stand seven more hours of this!'

'Perhaps you should have thought of that before you grabbed hold of my leg as if you hadn't had a man in years,' Malfoy said, his voice honey smooth and with a teasing lilt.

'That was a reflex reaction and I've apologised.' She huffed, her breathing rapid. 'And I have anyway.'

'What?'

'You know … had a man … recently … a lot. Many, in fact.'

'Many? Careful, Miss Granger, you'll get a name for yourself.'

'Oh, shut up!' she spat.

Malfoy had remained calm throughout her rant and now eased his question out with clear curiosity. 'So … since your little parting of the ways with Mr Weasley … who has there been?'

She turned on him, her face creased in disbelief. 'What? You expect me to tell you? Fair enough, okay. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Who has there been since your little 'parting of the ways' with Mrs Malfoy?'

'That is a private matter. Unlike you, I tend not to splash my private life all over the Daily Prophet gossip columns.'

She wondered if she could get away with thumping him. 'Well if you've read about it you don't need me to tell you, do you?'

'All sorts of names: Oliver Wood, Viktor Krum … again … Shacklebolt even … amongst others … Tell me this … who was the best?'

She gawped at him. 'What? Are you serious?'

'I should imagine you have quite high expectations, Miss Granger.'

'I do, yes! I mean …' She squeezed her eyes tight shut, the shock at his audacity throwing her. 'I mean I'm not going to tell you. Seriously! You are a total nightmare!'

He chuckled. 'I like seeing you worked up. It's quite appealing.'

'Spare me, Malfoy. I have no desire to 'appeal' to you.' She shot him a glare, expecting one back, instead she was met with those crystal grey eyes again sparkling with a wicked glee she could not ignore. Her breath caught and her stomach did a weird flippy thing she wished it hadn't.

Hermione turned to look out at the fast disappearing patchwork fields of England.

Bugger! Why did he have to be so … fit? And why did he have to be sitting right beside her? The warmth from his body seeped across to her relentlessly, his innate strength present in his slightest movement, that intoxicating scent of him inescapable.

BUGGER!

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, trying to ignore him, but Malfoy continued. 'Perhaps sitting beside you wasn't such a bad idea after all. I'm quite enjoying our … chat.'

She sighed tersely. 'Yes, well, can you keep it up for seven hours?'

'Keep it up for seven hours? That may exhaust even me, Miss Granger, but you can always try and see.' He smirked.

She'd put her foot right in it, gifting him blatant innuendo on a plate. She closed her mouth promptly and knew she was bright red. 'I …'

'Yes?' he crooned.

'Nothing.'

'Shame.'

'I thought you hated me,' she tried.

'Oh, I do, don't worry.'

'So why are you …?'

'What?'

'Why are you … flirting with me?' She just came out with it, hoping to surprise him with her honesty. It made little difference.

'Flirting? I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Miss Granger. One has to pass the time somehow.'

'Well, I'm going to read.'

Her book was in her bag under the seat in front. She leant down to get it. Business Class afforded more leg room than economy but even then it was an awkward manoeuvre. She had to lean to the side and somehow ended up with her head practically in Malfoy's lap. 'Miss Granger … so soon?' she heard him say.

Hermione pulled up with a cry of frustration. 'I'm just trying to get my book! I'm sorry, alright!'

He chuckled again and now she really wanted to thump him. 'Malfoy, if I have to put up with this all flight I'll bloody well complain of sexual harassment.'

'Now where would be the fun in that? You know as well as I that you love sparking off me as much as I do.'

She stared into him, breathing hard. 'You are a self-satisfied shit.'

'Hmm.'

'Now … I'm going to read. Be quiet.' She threw his own words from earlier back at him with snide satisfaction. 'Save your breath.'

'Oh, but I was enjoying myself.'

'Tough.'

'What can you recommend me watching?'

'I don't know. Downton Abbey?'

'What's that?'

'It's about an archaic, privileged family with ingrained prejudices living in a large house and finding the world a changing place that they struggle to adapt to. Sound familiar?' She turned and smiled broadly at him.

'Your wit astounds me, Miss Granger.'

She cocked an eyebrow and turned her attention to her book. He took out a small volume from his inner pocket and did the same. She tried to glance at the title but couldn't make it out.

It was soon time for supper. Malfoy picked at the airline food, and so did Hermione. It never improved.

'Well, that was entirely unsatisfying,' he said afterwards, replacing his tray table.

'Hm. Leaves a lot to be desired.'

Malfoy turned and fixed her with the full brilliance of his gaze. 'And what do you desire, Miss Granger?'

The cabin lights were dimmed as he asked the question, plunging them into an eerie and intimate gloom. But through it penetrated those bright eyes. She couldn't look away. Luckily, once again, they were interrupted by a flight attendant offering blankets, which they both took. She took the opportunity to pull one up over her and close her eyes. Perhaps she could just sleep away this madness. She went to lean her arm on the rest between them but found it had been raised. She tutted and turned to him. 'You could have asked.'

'I thought you'd prefer it this way. More room.'

More chance of them rubbing up against each other. That strange combination of anxiety and excitement caught hold again. She sighed and turned her head away.

She couldn't sleep. She could hear Malfoy's gentle breathing beside her but was sure he wasn't asleep either. She wriggled, trying to get comfortable and failing. After a while she got into a position that seemed adequate and stayed there. For a time she drifted, hoping that sleep would take her. She was relaxed at least. With each inhalation of breath she could smell the glorious scent of him. Intoxicating, heady. Her leg fell a little to the side. It touched his.

She should move it away. He could move it away. Neither did. She left it there, resting against the strong, long warmth of his thigh. She forced her eyes to remain closed but knew she was biting her lip.

She tried to steady her breathing, long slow breaths in then out, but it was useless. She had a knot inside so tight it hurt and the ache right down in her core was tugging and whining and crying out. She daren't look, she daren't acknowledge his closeness, if she did she feared what she would do. She opened her mouth and a little sigh escaped. She turned her head away again, desperate not to give it away. But she left her leg resting along his.

And then she felt it. Under the blanket, concealed from all but her and him, touch. He had let his fingers inch towards her and touch her leg just where it was resting against his.

He stroked them up, the backs of them first, she felt the knuckles then when he reached the top of her thigh, he let his fingertips stroke over and round, up and down, drawing a steady path of torment and temptation along her hot skin, frustratingly concealed in leggings.

She let him.

His fingers moved, further over, closer to the warm heart of her, reaching down and under to find her inner thigh, then back up, then down again, harder now and edging closer and closer …

She turned and looked at him. His eyes were shut, his head back, almost as if he was doing it in his sleep, unaware, but then, with a slow idleness that tormented her, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

Gone was the smirk, gone was the arrogant froideur. His expression was that of a man who wanted and who would give. His fingers touched right between her legs, right where the ache was at its most acute. She needed to take hold of him and push him away, she needed to protest, but all she succeeded in doing was pressing her legs together and keeping him there. He pushed harder, rubbing through the thin material of her leggings to find that perfect spot.

'You can't do that …' she managed, a half whisper.

'Yes, I can.'

'You mustn't.'

'Why not?'

'Because … because …' She had no reason.

'Do you not want me to? If you don't want me to, tell me to stop and I'll stop.'

'No …'

'No what? No, don't do it or no, don't stop?'

'No …' she sucked in a breath and pressed herself harder yet against his hand.

'What, Miss Granger? Speak to me.'

'No …' Her voice became a moan as she felt pressure and pleasure building. 'Don't stop … ever … don't stop ever …'

His lips tugged briefly into a half smile and then his fingers found the top of her leggings and slipped down inside, quickly, fluidly, until he found the hot, wet core of her. She sucked in a breath. 'Oh God, that's so fucking good.'

He had found her clit and was working it with assiduous attention, sliding down to gather up the dripping juice from her pussy then back up to rub and nuzzle.

He kept her on the brink, never too much to make her tip over, but enough to keep her teetering on a blissful precipice of delirious pleasure. She met his eyes and reached over for a kiss but he held back, preferring instead simply to observe her.

'Want to touch you,' she murmured. 'Want to feel you.' She turned onto her side and let her knee slip down so he could continue to ply her wet folds, but her hand reached across and needy fingers found the zip on his trousers and pulled it down. She reached inside and instantly came across his cock: large, long and as hard as rock. It was Malfoy's turn to suck in a breath. She relinquished it briefly to pull her hand to her mouth and spit into it before quickly returning to grip him hard and start to pull and pump his rigid shaft.

They stayed like that, their activity masked under the blankets while the engines roared around them, masking the soft mewls that occasionally emerged from Hermione and the ragged breaths that caught them both.

'Yes, yes, witch,' he hissed.

She smiled wonkily and lifted her head. At last he lowered his and met her lips with his. They kissed slowly while their fingers continued to fuck the other. Hermione could go on like this forever, but something was missing. Penetration. In this position his fingers could reach her clit but little else. She was empty and it hurt. Still pumping his cock, she murmured, 'Want you inside me. Come inside me. Need you inside me.'

'We can't here. There's no room.'

She almost sobbed in despair and glanced around the cabin. Although they were at the back next to a bulkhead, there were others across from them still awake. Malfoy was right; full on sex here would be impossible. 'We'll have to go to the toilets. Is that alright?' She feared he'd baulk at the idea but when her hand swept over the head of his cock, his mouth fell slack and he nodded quickly.

'Yes, yes, show me.'

She reached up and he kissed her again, pushing her mouth open hard now, thrusting his tongue in, penetrating as she needed, but not enough. 'Want to come, want to come,' she said, but he pulled his hand away.

'Wait. Where?' He looked around.

She indicated just behind them. 'The bathroom. It's just there, see?' He nodded. 'You go first, then after a minute undo the lock and I'll follow you in.'

'A minute? How can I wait?'

She smiled and kissed him again. 'You'd better try to put this away.' She gave him a final rub then removed her hand, letting him conceal his enormously erect cock. He pulled his jacket over himself and stood up, hurrying to the bathroom, which was fortunately free.

Malfoy went in. Hermione followed him almost immediately, noting that the man opposite eyed her curiously as she went.

She slipped in after him.

He had her up against the door immediately. She pulled him into her but muttered, 'We've got to lock the door.' She managed somehow to mutter a quick silencing charm around them.

'Fuck, there's no fucking room in here,' he spat.

'Where there's a will, there's a way,' she smirked, reaching for his trousers again and pushing them down. She could see him properly at last, and what she'd felt with her hands was confirmed with her eyes. It was quite a cock. 'Inside me,' she stated, demanded. Never had she needed a cock to fill her so much.

She let him lift her up, then with a movement she afterwards tried to fathom but couldn't, she found herself supported by him and then …

Filled.

Oh fuck, she was filled. She was straddling him, her legs wrapped around him, her arms clinging to him. And he was inside her. She threw her head back and laughed with the thrill and completion of it.

Penetration.

She needed it. He provided it.

'Oh … fuck!' she cried and pushed down onto him. He responded by bucking up, forcing himself high up into her and causing another cry to leap from her. Her yelped exclamation became a guttural laugh. 'Oh God, you fill me!'

'That's the general idea,' he breathed, digging his fingers into her buttocks and working her along him.

'You're big.'

'You sound surprised.'

'Not surprised, just thrilled,' she breathed, rolling on him, moving on him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

'You like that?'

She bucked along him. 'Need you ask?'

'But you hate me.'

'Of course. Doesn't mean I can't love fucking you though.'

'What a filthy little thing you are, Miss Granger.'

'When I choose to be. Yes! Right there, Malfoy. Right fucking there.'

'Like that?' He ploughed along her g-spot, nudging her cervix, rubbing her clit.

'Yes! Just like that!'

'You are quite something, Miss Granger,' he grunted between thrusts.

'I could … oh fuck, there … say the … so close … same for … don't stop that … you!'

'I'm going to come into you, witch.'

'Do it then, you bastard.'

'Again.'

'What?'

'Call me that again, slut.'

'Your slut, Malfoy.'

'Yes, mine. What am I?'

'Bastard. Fucking prejudiced, evil, twisted bastard.'

'But I fuck meaning into you.'

'Yes. You do. Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, keep fucking me.'

'By the gods, you're incredible.' His words were barely distinguishable now, slurred amidst his ragged breaths.

She wrapped herself ever tighter around him and hurled herself up and down on his cock. 'Need that. Need that feeling of you inside me. Need you inside me. Don't come out of me, don't.' Her eyes blurred but still she stared into him, her jaw slack, her breath fitful.

He drove into her, as if he would fuse himself to her very core. 'Tell me when you're coming. Tell me!'

She nodded, biting her lip. Her head was back, her neck strained. He leaned down to inhale the muggy sex scent of her, and bucked her along him in desperation. Neither could hold back.

'Now, oh fuck, oh now!' Her orgasm tore through her, propelled from the hard flesh completing that hollowness she'd longed to banish. She shook on him, lost with delirious pleasure. 'Oh fuck fuck fuck, Lucius, fuck!'

At the sound of his name, he joined her, shooting burst after burst of himself deep into her, filling her with him until she was so stuffed full of cock and come that it leaked from her down her thighs.

They stayed, clamped together, their limbs skewed around the other, unable to move, breathing heavy, bodies damp.

After some time she managed to raise her head enough to rest her forehead against his. 'We can't stay here forever.'

He glanced sardonically over her shoulder at their surroundings. 'Really? I've always fancied spending four hours in a tiny enclosed toilet cubicle.'

She snorted out a laugh. 'I never knew you had a sense of humour.'

'You only ever knew what I chose to show you, Miss Granger, and that wasn't very much.'

'You don't have to keep calling me that, you know. I have a first name.'

His lips ticked into a half smile but he said nothing.

Their constrained position, which had added to the pleasure before climax, now started to hurt and Hermione slipped down into an even more awkward stance. 'Ow …'

Malfoy lifted her and came out in the process. She missed him immediately and, silently, turned with some difficulty and cleaned herself in the basin.

He adjusted his clothing. 'Ready?'

She nodded. 'You go first. I'll give it a minute if I can.'

He reached in for another kiss, then opened the door and slipped out, shutting it behind him. Almost immediately it was opened again and a short balding businessman tried to get in, clearly expecting it to be vacant. Hermione gave a yelp, as did the man. 'What the -? Sorry!' he stuttered. 'I just saw this guy leave. I thought it was free. How the hell did –?' But it only took a moment for realisation to dawn and his face shifted quickly into an expression between shock and appreciation.

Hermione shrugged. 'Well, one has to pass the time somehow,' she said with a broad grin and hurried out past him.

She sank guiltily back into her seat and slouched down in it as if she wanted to disappear. 'Shit! I hope he doesn't report us.'

Lucius glanced back around at the bathroom door. 'Would you like me to ensure he doesn't?'

'What? You mean hex him or something? Cast a memory spell? We don't need that. I think he was amused as much as anything. It'll be fine.'

He was staring at her. 'You are exceptionally fine.'

She smiled at his compliment. Never had she'd hear that from a Death Eater. She returned it genuinely, the strength of her orgasm still fresh in her body. 'As are you, Mr Malfoy.'

'See? Who needs first names?'

She grinned and lay against his shoulder, allowing tiredness to let her drift off for a time. In the haze of half-sleep she heard the flight attendant approach and ask Lucius if he needed anything. 'Are you enjoying the flight now, sir?'

'Aspects of it have proved most entertaining.'

'I'm glad to see you're getting on better with your travelling companion.' It was said with a heavy dose of sarcastic teasing.

'Oh, we still hate each other, but one has to make the most of a bad situation.'

Hermione considered giving him a whack but knew his words were spoken with mocking wit so instead stifled a smirk against the warm strength of his neck.

Hermione dozed, her lazy mind reliving the intense erotic pleasure of what they'd experienced. She didn't want it to end. She wanted him always beside her, warm and firm and inherently him. Her hand moved to his thigh and she nestled harder into him, murmuring his name against him. He turned to her and kissed her again, opening her mouth to inhabit and take her wet warmth as his.

'God, what are we doing? What's happening?' she sighed, still stroking his thigh, then drawing her hand up to rub over the firm tautness of his abdomen. He was in beautiful shape, she couldn't help noticing.

'Some things are essential,' he stated.

'Essential? Us?'

'Apparently.'

'Did you ever think it would be?'

'No. Although I considered what it may be like,' he mused.

'Did you?'

'Didn't you?'

'Umm … I suppose, perhaps, although I couldn't admit it … I used to think you were amazing looking, but you were intimidating and … I hated you.'

'You still hate me.'

'Do I?'

'You should.' He was teasing her.

'Do you hate me?'

'Of course.' It was said with the slightest tick of amusement.

'I don't believe you.'

He smirked and kissed her again.

'How did I ever exist without you inside me?' she sighed breathily. 'I want you inside me again, now.'

'I'm not sure we should attempt our little confinement again. We may break something.'

'Limbs?'

'Essential aeronautical equipment.'

'Well …' She looked around. The lights were still out and their fellow passengers seemed still to be asleep. 'I'll just have to do this then.'

She slipped down to kneel in the gap between the seats. Lucius took only a moment to realise what was happening and concealed her activities with a blanket. In the darkness, no one would know a thing.

Hermione soon made light work of his zip and he reared out quickly, as large as before. That need asserted itself urgently again, the need to have him inside her, to have him penetrate any part of her he could. The paradox of her lust for this man made it essential, to absorb him, this man she'd reviled. She licked up, a long slow lick to appreciate his impressive length then fed him into her mouth, inch by inch, sinking down on him. He had the most glorious cock and urgency made her hungry. He was fresh and new and wonderfully hard. She sucked in avidly and dragged up, letting him pop from her mouth before she twirled her tongue eagerly over the head.

In the muggy stillness under the blanket she felt at one with him, at one with his member which filled her mouth and nudged at her throat. She shifted position to allow herself to sink ever further down on him and felt pressure on her head. He was guiding her, holding her, wanting her. She could shake him off but that large hand placed on her seemed almost in blessing, in a final reconciliation of the hell they'd endured. Fuck, she needed him. Her left hand came up to hold his balls, and she licked and pulled on him as if starved. For that she got a push down. A tingle of resistance shot through her and she tried to lift her head but he insisted, holding her on him.

As much as she craved the warm length of cock in her mouth, she would play him as he played her. She sank down as far as she could, feeling the head of his cock enter her throat. He bucked a little, revelling in the tight constriction of being in her mouth, but then she closed in and let her the fine edges of her teeth touch his smooth, veined flesh. She dragged up, scraping a little as she went. She felt him tense, felt his hand clench in reflex on her head, heard a hiss from him, audible even under the blanket. But the leak from the tip of his cock, that salty pre-come which pooled on her tongue, gave him away, so she did it again, harder this time, letting her teeth add a dimension of exquisite uncertainty to their little dance.

Eventually she removed that sharpness and resorted to wet, tugging bliss. She held him in one hand, squeezed his balls in the other and fucked him with her mouth as desperately as she ever had. What would he taste of? Bitter, like the acrimony that had existed between them? Sweet like the honey of his voice? She needed his come now, needed the release of him in her. He was close, tense, matching her movement with short jerks of his hips.

And then, pushing his cock as far into her mouth as he could she felt the first burst of come hit the roof of her mouth. She sucked hard and got another, and another. Her mouth, already accommodating the ample size of him, was filled with his cream. Salted caramel. That's what he tasted of. She'd want more.

She didn't want to lose him, didn't want to lose that plug of warm, hard cock that kept her world turning. But slowly, needing to swallow him into her, she pulled off gently, careful to keep him tight in her mouth. Still concealed under the blankets, she swallowed and relished the warm slide of him. She'd take. He'd give.

When at last she re-emerged to sit back up she turned her blow job swollen lips up into a grin of intense satisfaction. He was sitting back, eyes closed, panting hard. 'Fuuuck,' he managed in a long, slow exhalation, that was all.

She lay back against him and at last slipped into a proper sleep. They were woken by the cabin crew only half an hour before landing.

Lucius turned to her, his eyes flitting to her still plumped lips. 'I've decided that, given the right circumstances, air travel is relatively agreeable.'

'I'm glad you've adopted a more open-minded approach, Lucius.' She reached in for a kiss but felt her stomach drop as they descended. She wrinkled her nose, familiar anxiety returning. 'But … I don't like landings.'

'You managed to bruise my leg during the take-off.'

'I'm sorry. I might have to bruise it again on landing. Or I could just hold your hand this time.'

'Hold my hand? I haven't held anyone's hand for a very long time.'

She smiled softly and met his eyes. Gone was the arrogant coldness, but gone also was the hot desire. Now she read only a warm acceptance with made her eyes sting. She reached over to him, holding her hand palm up.

He looked down at it almost quizzically then enclosed it in his. For the remainder of the flight they sat like this, barely speaking, just content at their closeness. When the plane bumped along the runway on landing, Hermione barely noticed, focusing instead on her fingers wrapped in the long, strong digits of Lucius Malfoy.

The plane taxied to the terminal. She turned to him. 'We haven't even mentioned the conference. That is why you're on this flight, I'm guessing.'

'Yes. The Ministry insisted I attend, as you probably know. It is a necessary annoyance.'

'It may be productive, you know. Go with an open mind.'

'How very predictable of you to say that.' She detected a return to his previous dismissiveness and cast him a glare.

'Watch it, Malfoy.'

He smirked and sought her forgiveness by offering her a kiss which she duly took. 'Where are you staying?' he asked.

'The Waldorf Astoria, as are you, I should imagine. They have a floor allocated for conference delegates, apparently. They've catered for the magical community in New York for decades.'

His smile deepened. 'Hmm … perhaps this conference isn't going to be as tedious as I'd feared.'

They stood up as passengers started to disembark. Hermione leaned into him and whispered, 'You know, we're now members of the Mile High Club.'

'The what?'

'The Mile High Club. People who've done the deed during a flight.'

'Done the deed? You make it sound as if we've murdered someone.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Those days are long gone … I hope.'

'But of course. After all, I'm forging on, Miss Granger, as are you.'

'Hermione. Call me Hermione, Lucius.'

'I'll work on it.' He offered her his arm while giving her another trademark smirk. She returned it, ensuring she gave him the full force of her gaze, slipped her arm into his, and together Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy left the plane.

The Waldorf Astoria would grant them considerably more space than the plane had provided for any further 'working on it'.

He never ceases to turn me on. ;-) Comments, reviews, anything you care to hurl at me is still adored and read and thought about, believe me. Thanks in advance. x