Author's note #1: This was initially inspired by John Legend's song "Another Again." Feel free to listen to that first, or as you read considering I had it on repeat as I wrote this.

The moment Draco sat down a short glass of liquor was set in front of him. He looked up at the barkeep, Samuel, and gave him a nod off his head. The man knew what he liked and he knew at what time he would want it, so Draco would never have to ask.

He took the glass in his hand, his fingers cradling it as though too much pressure would break it. He must have put his lips to the rim at most three times before he let his eyes lift to the clock above the shelves of inebriants.

7:45pm

Draco turned around on the bar stool and faced the busy hotel lobby. It was as usual. Business people walking in and out with one or two pieces of luggage floating behind them. There was a sitting area between the bar and the check-in desk with a glass coffee table with gold-bronze legs in a twisting pattern, two long couches on opposite sides of it and one armchair. A man was reading the Daily Prophet. A woman was using a quick notes quill to dictate something. And beyond them at the desk was a woman with her hair in a neatly messy bun speaking with an hotel clerk.

Draco let his glass touch his lips, the amber liquid licking his tongue as he watched her. It took up to five minutes only to get checked in, for she was here once a month, every month, and had been for the past year. When she was finished Draco held his breath and didn't let it go until she turned her head slightly to her right, and catching his gaze briefly before feigning that she hadn't and continued on her way to the lifts.

Draco waited. He leaned back against the bar to relax a muscle and caught the time in the process.

7:56pm.

"Have a good night, Sam," Draco said without looking at the man as he left his empty glass. Samuel smiled, a twinkle in his eye because only he was apt enough to observe, understand, and be envious of the monthly interaction that the blond always seemed anxious to have.

Draco headed towards the check-in desk and was greeted like an old friend. So old, in fact, that only a nod was given and a bit of parchment was slipped into his hand.

Seventh floor, Anonymity Suite

He used wandless magic to burn the parchment in his hand with no ash residue. He'd done that so many times that he'd perfected it.

Draco bid the staff a farewell with a tilt of his head and made his way to the lifts. Another person went in with him, a witch, and a shapely one at that. The doors closed and although he wasn't looking at her, the reflection on the well-polished, gold-plated doors depicted her delight at sharing the lift with him. Were this a few months prior, back when it was less complicated, back when feelings weren't a factor, he would have kept the note she handed him on her way out to the fifth floor.

He burned that one too.

The seventh floor was the highest floor in this posh, yet relatively small hotel. Despite its size, it was trafficked often due to business men and women and Ministry employees who travelled for their work. Like him. And like her.

And due to her status, she always used suites because it was expected and because it suit his tastes.

There were only three suites on this floor and Draco had been in all of them. He turned to his left and smiled when he saw the door slightly cracked open. He went inside, closing the door after him, and walked down the small hall that opened up into a large sitting area. That was where he found her, still in her traveling cloak because she knew that undressing her was his second career.

"Malfoy," Hermione greeted as she stood, loosing her hair so that it fell to her shoulders. "I take it your travels went well."

Draco nodded as he walked up to her. She had lightly doused herself in his favorite scent, and it would've knocked him off his feet had he not been attending to the task at hand.

"And yours?" His eyes met hers as he asked it and as he unhooked the top button of her cloak and slipped it off her shoulders and down to the floor.

"Uneventful...until now."

Draco melted. She had changed clothes, or, in a more seductive fashion, arrived at the hotel this way. It looked painted on, her negligee. A deep shade of burgundy, attached to her skin until it hit her waist, and even then there was barely any room, corrected by the split right up to the start of her hip. He reached out to her thigh, softly grazing her skin and the silk fabric. It dissolved under his fingertips. Literally.

Draco snapped his eyes back to Hermione who wore nothing but a knowing smile.

"See something that you like?"

Draco smiled, but said nothing. He let a finger linger above her knees and swiped it straight across. It vanished where he touched, leaving behind a shorter front. He let his thumbs run over her shoulders where the straps were. He'd been right about it seeming to be painted on, and he concluded that he would have to touch her thoroughly to get rid of it.

"Be careful where you touch," Hermione told him, although it was hardly a warning. She walked away from him, and Draco's eyes followed the shape of her.

She headed right, and he mimicked her steps, letting a hand loosen his tie as he went. The bedroom they finally ended up in was nothing but a blur to them. A faint memory. A fuzzy background as they were one another's main focus.

"Turn around," Draco said once he had reached her and Hermione complied. He passed his hand along the back of her negligee and watched it disappear. It stopped just below her bum and, with hesitancy and absolute delight, he let his thumb run over it's curve and found it rubbing away like her shoulder straps. Stenciled on, it was, and he had an overwhelming desire to lick her clean.

So he did.

Draco dropped to his knees quicker than he ever had before and gave his tongue permission to glide over her arse from top to bottom until the burgundy of her negligee had completely vanished. He turned her around when he was finished, swiping away at yet more of the silk, ending just at the start of the gap between her thighs.

Draco's heart raced.

"That too, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione purred as she let a hand run through his hair.

His eyes closed at the feel of her fingers. So did hers after he rose to his feet and slipped his own fingers between her thighs. He needed to see her face as he did, every subtle drop of her mouth into a perfect "O," the pleasurable contortions of her face, and the sweets gasps that remained of her voice.

Draco removed his hand with her protest and pushed her backwards onto the bed. His eyes bounced as she did and he climbed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes with his heels. This talented witch, a multitasker in every respect, used a hand to flick one button at a time off his shirt while the other undid his pants.

He was stripped of both within seconds, and Draco lay to waste the burgundy that remained on Hermione's breasts with his mouth. They received caresses of his tongue, grazes of his teeth, and brushes with his lips. His chest on hers took care of the rest, and he buried his face into her neck as he buried the rest of him between her legs.

Nothing would ever describe the natural euphoria Draco gained from Hermione's cry in his ear whenever he entered her. Or the pull on his hair. Or the repetition of his name. Or the way her body felt under him. Or how tight she felt around him. Or how her moans and cries turned to yells or their change in pitch and frequency.

She desperately tried to turn them over, but Draco wouldn't let her. He never did. It was against his nature to serve, but he did it for her. Always. Precious things weren't meant to be wasted, and so he exhausted her. She climaxed more times than he could count and it spurred on his own.

Breath ragged, Draco stared at the trembling woman beneath him. He leaned forward and kissed her for the first time that night. It was the last thing he always did. Kissing was easy. Pleasure was the challenge.

Hermione was smoothing his hair from his face, and Draco waited for the words that came, without fail, in some form or another.

"We're no good for each other."

Draco smiled once and traced the outline of her lips.

"The worst things for you always taste the best."

"And you indulge," Hermione added, letting her own fingers outline his jaw. "And then you move on."

"You don't wear something like you did and then say goodbye, Granger."

"Maybe that was the goodbye," Hermione replied.

Draco chuckled. He let his hand roam across her naked form from her curls, pass her stomach, over her breasts, and let it rest at the side of her face.

"In that case, you should've worn something else," he answered and placed chaste kisses on the nape of her neck. She stretched without prodding, and Draco took it over. Every part of her belonged to him, and she knew it. And yes, they were each other's poisons, but it was a sweet death.

"See you next month,"

Author's note #2: So, I had a goal in mind for this. Write as little dialogue as possible, not to mention stick to solely one perspective. I wanted to play with words and be as artistic as I could, so I hope it painted an emotional picture for you :).

-WP