DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Harry Potter.

*

She never should've looked his way.

The Muggle pub was pretty packed and she needed a drink. What kind of woman goes drinking by her lonesome at ten in the evening on a Tuesday, you ask? The kind whose husband was more interested in sleeping with his pillow than sleeping with her. It was the third night in a row, she grumbled. How the hell was she supposed to conceive?

Hermione Weasley scanned the room for a vacant seat. She wasn't even picky, heck, even a barstool would do! Nobody knew her here - or so she thought. Her eyes landed on him, seated in a booth by his lonesome, looking dapper in his Muggle suit. He had been eyeing her since she'd entered the pub. Not long after, the Pureblood prince rose from his seat, and motioned her to come sit with him. He drew her in like a moth to a flame. Before she knew it, she was seated right next to Draco Malfoy at a crowded Muggle pub on a lonely Tuesday evening.

She never should have liked his laugh.

But he had such a funny laugh. No, it wasn't funny like how Charlie's laugh was funny; it was funny because she's never heard him laugh. Ever. And she wanted to hear it over and over, she did everything to draw it from him. She told him about their time at Hogwarts and how he thought he was a git. He laughed at the anecdotes and sinister plans she had to get back at him.

"Tell me another funny story," he said, sipping on his nth shot of firewhiskey.

Hermione stopped giggling. She had run out of anecdotes from their Hogwarts days, but she had to come up with something. "My marriage is a funny," she blurted out, chuckling.

He raised an eyebrow and set his glass down. "How so?"

"Well," she said as she started to fidget. "My husband would probably rather sleep with dragons than with me."

"You have got to be kidding," he quipped, eyeing the comely Muggle-born witch he once despised. He watched her laugh and shake her head. His eyes trailed lower, at her cream-colored top that now had the top three buttons undone. From where he was seated, he spied the swell of her breast. His breath hitched.

Weasley's such a loser, he thought as he moved closer to the dragon-tamer's wife.

She never should have enjoyed his touch.

She didn't suspect anything when she felt him move closer to her. Curse her trusting nature - she merely thought he was going to comfort her the same way Harry and Ron did. She should've known better. After all, he was a snake.

"When was the last time he said you were beautiful?"

Hermione laughed. "Never, Malfoy. Charlie's not the type -"

"Shhh," he said gently, placing a finger on her lips. "No names, love. Everyone here thinks you're here with me."

Again, she nodded dumbly. The feel of his finger on her lips sent shivers down her spine. She scolded herself, was she that deprived?

"You seem rather disturbed," Draco said, leaning forward. He moved his finger slowly downward from her lips to her chin, over the delicate curve of neck, her collarbone. He smirked when he heard Hermione's breath hitch, and then he trailed his finger even lower until he traced her left breast. "How long has it been since you've been touched?"

Hermione felt herself shivering, but not from the cold - quite the opposite, really. "Draco… please…"

Her blond companion smirked wider. He stopped his ministrations, as though to torture her into wanting more. And he knew she wanted more. "How long, Hermione?"

"Too long," she cried, grabbing his hand. "Merlin, Draco, please!"

"Oh, do you want me to touch you?" he asked, snaking a hand up her skirt, brushing it across her wet knickers. She whimpered. "Tell me how long, Hermione?"

"He… We… Not since the wedding," she cried, and groaned in pleasure as he rammed two fingers roughly into her swollen clit.

She leaned on him and pressed her face at the crane of his neck. "Yes, yes! That's it, Draco," she whispered. "Merlin, I'm close!"

"Come for me, Hermione. I want to taste you all over my fingers," he whispered roughly and watched as she came apart.

She never should have tasted how good it was.

She was on her knees before him, sucking on his long, hard shaft in one of the rooms at the Muggle pub. They would later wonder how they made it up the stairs. When she had come down from her orgasm, the brilliant brunette realized what she needed was right in front of her.

And he was. Hermione swirled her tongue around him until he moaned in pleasure. She took him in deeper into her mouth and pleasured him until he reached his peak. He slammed into her mouth as his orgasm shook his whole body. He cried out her name as he poured cum into her throat, which she gladly swallowed as she pulled him out of her mouth and licked his tip.

He kissed her lips roughly and pulled her on top of him. Draco positioned her on top of his cock and groaned in pleasure as she gently lowered herself over him, her pussy stretching to accommodate his size. He was much thicker than Charlie, that's for sure. When she had fully impaled herself on him, started to rock back and forth as she felt the waves of pleasure taking over her.

Draco felt her wet cunt surrounding him, and groaned. He needed more. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her from his position. She whimpered, threw her head back and cried out his name as she shattered. He came shortly after, spraying a wave of cum inside her.

They agreed not to talk about it.

She shouldn't have drawn in his scent.

They met in the Muggle pub thrice a week. Always in the same dingy room, first one on the right when you hit the top of the stairs. It was always the same routine - they'd drink, talk, touch, fuck their brains out, and say goodbye like it were the last.

He was addictive, like a Muggle drug or a candy bar she couldn't get enough of. Hermione was listless without him. She looked for his scent everywhere - even when Charlie fucked her, it was Draco's scent she looked for afterwards. She cried, this was wrong… she was wrong. She had a choice, and she chose to cheat on her husband. With a heavy heart, she ended their affair.

*

Hermione locked herself in the guest bathroom of her home with the envelope that their owl Cyrus delivered that morning. Charlie was still eating breakfast, unsuspecting of how her heart broke with the news of Draco's impending marriage to a nameless Pureblood. She sighed, and tore the envelope with shaky fingers. Reading through the short missive, she felt the tears stream down her face as she ran a hand over her belly and wondered how she would explain to her husband that she had conceived a blond baby boy.

End.