A gift for stormsalwaysend. She asked for someone to write a fic based on the song "Just One Yesterday" by Fall Out Boy, so this is what I was able to come up with on short notice. It's unedited for now, I'll get around to it when I'm not on vacation. Hope you like it, Tori!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, the world, or characters portrayed, nor do I own the song.
OOO
Just One Yesterday
"GRANGER!"
She hears the bellow echo in the hallway outside of her office long before he comes barreling through the door, eyes bulging and face red. He's in a rage, and she finds she simply cannot be bothered to care. This isn't the first time he's come stomping around like a spoiled child in a temper tantrum, and she sighs at the fact that it won't be the last.
Hermione Granger, head of the House Elf Division within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, has it pretty good. Following the War, and her amicable split from Ron, she had headed back to Hogwarts with Ginny to finish her Seventh Year and complete her NEWTS, then joined up with the Ministry mere weeks after graduation. In the four years since, Minister Shacklebolt had given her the green light to create and head her own division, allowing her to further the work she had begun with SPEW in her Fourth Year.
The Ministry was changing by leaps and bounds each year, and Hermione was proud to count herself as one of their own. She was finally able to do the work she had dreamed of, and no one was allowed to tell her no. Harry and Ron may still make fun of her, but she was causing change, and they could at least appreciate how happy she was in her job.
Draco Malfoy may be the only thing keeping her from being truly content with her lot in life, and she thinks this won't ever change.
"What the BLOODY HELL do you think you're doing, you daft witch?!" he's screaming within the confines of her small office, and the air is lightly whirling around him in his rage. She thinks he's waving a piece of parchment in his hand at her, and she needn't have achieved 'Outstanding's for all of her NEWTs to deduce that it is her letter he's holding.
Setting down her quill and neatly collecting the parchment-work she'd been filling out, she gently clears her desk. With a deep breath, she regards him carefully.
"Mister Malfoy, I am going to have to ask you to please lower your voice and stop speaking in riddles. I've no clue as to what you are referring," she replies, using her most calm voice. She's goading him, she knows he won't respond well to this, but she cannot help herself. He comes barging in every week, barking around some law she's trying to pass.
This week, she's sure it's about the new visits her department will be making to the owners of house elves.
"I refuse to have you and your band of dimwits trudging through my home and questioning my elves. Why was there no vote on this?" he demands. He's pacing, speaking loudly, and still quite red in the face. His Auror robes are billowing with every sharp turn he takes, and she can smell his cologne on the air that is crackling with his magic.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Mister Malfoy. The Minister and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot made the decision to not hold a vote. If you have issue with this new law, I suggest you take it up with them."
"You can bet your arse I will, Granger. This is preposterous, I find it hard to believe that the Chief Warlock would make this decision without consulting the Wizengamot, and I intend to find out how you accomplished this," he snipped, his eyes narrowing on her. He was suspicious of her, he knew, but there was nothing to find. This law was far too important to her, and she had made sure to do everything right.
He spun on his heel, but only made it to the door before he turned around. "Oh, and Granger, I had better not ever catch you at the Manor, or I'll arrest you for trespassing," he threatens in a low, growling voice. She swears she can feel his voice vibrating the floors.
"The law clearly states that each witch or wizard shall allow entrance to a member of…"
"The dungeons haven't seen use since Potter and Weasley were down there, don't think I won't use them again," he sneers, and then he's gone.
She shudders in a deep breath and closes her eyes. Malfoy Manor is the only residence on the list that she doesn't want to visit, and it's the only one the Minister had insisted she visit herself.
She hasn't had an adventure since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she's not looking forward to this new one.
OOO
Letting people down is my thing, baby
Find yourself a new gig
This town ain't big enough for two of us
OOO
Malfoy Manor is just as imposing as she remembered, though she's sure that it's largely in part to the torture she endured at Bellatrix's hand. It stood tall, small turrets to the cloud-covered sky, and the peacocks are eyeing her warily as she dismantles enough of the wards to allow her entrance. They flank her on her walk up the loose gravel drive, walking along the top of the hedges to either side of her. This is the first real look she's had at them and she finds them just as pretentious as she thought they'd be.
At the front door, she barely remembers to cast a strong shield around herself before reaching for the front door. Malfoy has no clue she's coming, and alerting him to her presence now would only hinder her, so she figures it's not safe to knock. As she takes hold of the handle, she only has enough time to fire off a quick countercurse to the Stinging Hex that is warding the handle. Between that and her shield, she still receives quite a shock. She can feel it start in her fingers and spread quickly throughout her body. Briefly, she wonders if this is what a Muggle taser feels like, but then the shock is gone as quickly as it came. It takes four, no five beats of her heart before her breathing returns to normal and another three to remember why she's here in the first place. Never one to shirk her duties, she squares her shoulders and steps foot into Malfoy Manor
OOO
I don't have the right name
Or the right looks
But I have twice the heart
OOO
The moment her second foot touches the marble floor, a house elf appears with a Pop! in front of her. It has a sneer on its face and she knows this is going to be difficult.
"Miss is not expected. Master is busy and does not wish to be disturbed. Miss is Muggle and must leave," it says vehemently in a quiet, raspy voice. This elf is old, covered in wrinkled, leathery skin, with long droopy ears that seem to have deflated as the years have gone by. It's wearing what looks to be an old, ratted towel that's pinned together so it won't fall off. This must be Tommo.
At present, Draco Malfoy owned only one house elf, Tommo. Tommo had been with the family for a great many years, and while Hermione did not think she would ever get him to speak to her, but she had to try. Otherwise, she could kiss her division goodbye.
The elf's eyes don't leave her as she strides about the entrance hall. It is immaculately clean, the marble reflecting the paintings, and her shoes make a loud, echoing 'click' every time she steps. He is quiet behind her, but she can feel his displeasure. This visit is going to be short and unpleasant, but not nearly as much as her subsequent visits will be.
"Are you Tommo?" she asks in the same voice she likes to use when she speaks to children. The elf narrows his eyes, and he makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.
"Miss knows who Tommo is. Miss must leave now," he states, attempting to push her towards the door.
"I'm here to see you, Tommo. I'd like to ask you some questions."
"Tommo is not allowed to talk to the Miss. Tommo is to make her leave."
"Yes, I would imagine Malfoy said that. I'm here from the Ministry to ask you some very important questions. Do you like it here, Tommo? Is Malfoy nice to you?"
"Master wants Miss to leave. Miss is not welcome in Master's home," Tommo screeched, and she could tell he was beginning to get distressed. This was not going at all how she'd envisioned.
"It's ok, Tommo, Malfoy must let me ask you these questions, and he wants you to answer them. Do you like it here? Would you be happier if you were free?" she asked hopefully. At this point, it didn't matter what the poor elf said, so long as he started answering her questions.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" she hears a drawling voice coming from the top of the stairs and she winces. He had to have known she was here, Tommo would have told him, but she was hoping she could have accomplished more before he comes downstairs. "Breaking and entering, Granger? Tsk tsk."
She scowls, standing up to her full height and turning towards him. He's descending the stairs, deliberately slowly, one step at a time, when she replies, "It is hardly breaking and entering, you've read the law. It clearly states that I…"
"I believe I told you exactly what would happen should you attempt to enter my home, Granger. I trust you heard me, then?" he asks, and he's almost smiling. He's not hiding the fact that he's enjoying himself – he's got her pinned and they both know it.
"Y..yes, I heard you, but there is nothing you can do, Malfoy. The law…"
"I'm not sure you remember, Granger, but here in my home, I am the law," he says menacingly, and he's standing right in front of her. He leans down so that his face is level with her and whispers, "I'm an Auror, and I can do whatever I want."
She's quiet for a long time, and he thinks he's won when she says, "You can't. The Minister will have your job if you lay one finger on me."
"I suppose we'll find out, since I'm arresting you."
He stands up quickly, grabs her shoulder in one hand and spins her so that she's facing away from him. His hand travels from her shoulder down to her elbow, then her wrist, and she can't stop the shiver that runs through her at the contact. His wand touches her other wrist, and then her hands are bound in rope and she's suddenly very scared. Malfoy has her tied up in his foyer ad her body is betraying her by reacting in ways she'd never have imagined.
"Let's go, Granger, I want you out of my house."
"Aren't you going to read me my rights, Malfoy? If you're going to arrest me, at least do it right." She imagines his eyebrows rising up to his hairline and a smirk covering his face, but she's formulating a plan. It could backfire horribly, but she knows he likes to seize opportunities, and she's betting on him right now.
He leans in close, his mouth right next to her ear, and says quietly, "Anything you say will be held against you, Granger."
"Malfoy…" but she can't find the words. He steps up right behind her, his body flush to her back and his breath on her neck. Her breath shudders at the feeling of his body pressed to hers, his hands on her waist. She can feel the smooth fabric of his trousers against her fingers, the flap covering the zipper, and a thrill goes through her with the knowledge of just how close her fingers are to him. She doesn't want to think about what this all means, just that she's a woman pressed against a man. She wants to pretend that it doesn't matter that it's Malfoy, but a small niggling voice in the back of her head is calling her a liar and she realizes she's in trouble.
If Hermione is honest with herself, she'd admit that she and Malfoy have been dancing around each other for the past year, since the Minister had given her the green light on SPEW. Every time she has written or changed a law, he's been there, bellowing his outrage and stirring something within her. They don't get along, but she thinks that might be some of the draw he holds. He's just mysterious enough to pique her interest, just enough of a 'lost cause' to ignite her desire for his redemption. She doesn't think it's ever been rational, this fascination with him, but she's spent her life being rational and what's one irrational thing, compared to the rest?
She's not so certain anymore that this plan of hers was the brightest. She can feel his body practically thrumming with the excitement of his hunt, of having Hermione Granger all tied up in his own home with no one to save her. She tries not to move, tries not to bring his rage raining down on her, but she cannot stop her pinky from curling against the palm of her hand. His breath stutters against her neck, blowing through the hair caught between them, and he stiffens. Her eyes go wide as she tries to justify in her mind exactly what is happening.
She's just rubbed her pinky against Draco Malfoy's cock.
Experimentally, and without any indication as to where her mind has run off to, she curls her fingers of her left hand into a fist. She's sure she can feel him through his pants, and a growl tears its way out of his throat. She can feel it rumbling through his chest, making her shiver, and when her nipples harden in response, she gives up her control. Her mind is cloudy and she can't think of a single thing to get her out of this situation she's put herself in.
OOO
I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way
Still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday
OOO
When her fingers curl again, he gives a small groan and a slight thrust, and then they are chaos. He's turning her and kissing her hard, grabbing her about the waist to hold her to him. His lips work against hers and it never occurs to her not to kiss him back. With her hands bound behind her back, her chest is pressed forward, against his, and she likes the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest.
His tongue traces her lips before roughly pushing through them. She doesn't deny him, doesn't want to. His tongue is hot in her mouth as he slides it sensually along hers, still holding her fast to him. She responds in kind, pressing herself insistently against him. It's too bad they hadn't thought to do this earlier, rather than the yelling matches they had in her office.
She pushes her tongue back into his mouth and suddenly, his hands are everywhere. She feels one on her arse, another gripping her waist, then pushing up her back, on her breast, in her hair, her hip, her stomach. When he squeezes a breast she pulls back, breaking the kiss and looking at him through her lashes. His face is flushed, his eyes dark and dangerous, and the look he gives her sends shocks through her body, making her shiver. She pushes in to his neck, latching her mouth onto the smooth skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He gasps, grabbing her arse in both hands and grinding himself against her without thought. He's hard against her lower stomach and she's filled with anticipation.
His hands leave her arse to tangle themselves in her hair and he pulls her head back. She releases his neck with a pop and he's rough as he angles her head back. When his tongue runs up the length of her neck, she lets out a whimper and he chuckles deep in his throat. She swears she can feel the sound deep within her, and she can only imagine how wet her knickers must be at this point.
Pulling against her restraints, she growls. If they're going to continue snogging in his entrance hall, she at least wants to touch him.
"Dr…ugh, Draco," she whispers through a groan.
His response is a hum against her throat and she's not sure she'll ever be able to speak again.
"Release…me…" she makes out, her head falling back as far as it will go. His mouth travels along the expanse of her neck to lick, suck, bite at the hollow under her jaw. Her breathing hitches and she presses harder against him. He mutters against her neck, his lips moving against the sensitive skin, and then her hands are free.
OOO
If I spilled my guts
The world would never look at you the same way
And now I'm here to give you all my love
So I can watch your face as I take it all away
OOO
It isn't until his hand rests on her bare thigh, pushing up, that she remembers herself. Pushing him back hard, she barely has time to register the look of surprise overriding the looks of arousal on his face before she's grabbing her wand and rushing out the door. She's down the steps, the walk, through the gate before he can catch up to her, and she thinks she's in the clear.
He grabs her just as she's Apparating away, and they land in a heap on the floor of her flat.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Granger?" he asks, and his voice is husky, and Merlin help her. She says nothing, glaring back at him defiantly. He smirks, and there's a devilish gleam in his eye that has her slightly scared and much more aroused. "Well?"
"I think it's time someone taught you a lesson, Malfoy, and I'm dying to be the one to do it," she promised, the calculating look in her eye throwing his off his guard. She took the opportunity to push him back and off of her, pulling herself across the floor to try and grab her wand from under the couch where it had skittered to when they landed.
She doesn't make it more than a foot before his hand is on her ankle. He pulls her back while pushing himself on top of her. They're both breathing hard, and it only takes three breaths before they're in tandem, chests pushing against each other as they fight for dominance.
"I think we're both going to learn a lesson tonight, Granger. One that I'll be happy to participate in," he says, smirking when her brow furrows in confusion. She barely has time to process what he's said, let alone attempt to decipher it before his lips are crashing down on hers and his tongue is sliding into her mouth in such a way that makes her mind blank.
OOO
I thought of angels choking on their halos
Get them drunk on rose water
See how dirty I can get them
Pulling out their fragile teeth
And clip their tiny wings
OOO
Hermione always viewed the world as a place full of possibilities. She was an optimist at heart, always wanting to see the best in people and situations to the point of distraction. Because of the War, she'd found she had to work harder to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, and especially to see what good people had within them. The War had drained her compassion and warmth, but she was a determined witch, determined not to lose her positive outlook on life.
Amidst all of this, Hermione had always sworn to herself that there was no good in Draco Malfoy. He had chosen the wrong side in the War, and then defected when it became apparent that the Light was going to win. He'd just barely avoided Azkaban, and she could never believe that working as an Auror was anything more than his pathetic attempt to steer the public's feelings in regards to the Malfoy name. In truth, he needn't work a day in his life, the spoiled prat he was, but his reputation was significantly more important than anything else in his life.
But somehow, even though she knew all of this, he still found a way to get under her skin. The idea of him niggled at her, stayed with her for days at a time, intent on proving everything she'd ever known about him wrong.
No matter how hard she tried to hold onto her beliefs about Draco Malfoy, it all disappeared the minute his lips met hers. He swept all thought from her mind except for the pleasure he was bringing her, as if wanting her to know it was coming from him.
It is all happening very quickly, she thinks, before she can decide if she is sure of it at all. Lips on skin, hands pulling at clothes, bodies pressed together, and she cannot fathom how she would even stop him, if that were her desire. But she knows, deep down, that this is not something that can be stopped – that it's not something she wants so much as needs.
Her shirt is pulled apart at the buttons, skirt pushed up, his shirt ripped down the front, bra pulled down to reveal her dusky nipples, his belt thrown across the room, trousers and pants pushed to his knees, her knickers ripped off. They're exposed before Hermione even knows what is happening. He has pulled himself away from her and is sitting back on his haunches, staring. She wants to curl up into a ball, wrap her arms around herself and shield her body from his gaze and the cold, but she doesn't. She's paralyzed by his stare.
He's back on her as quickly as he left, his hands and mouth exploring as he mutters against her skin. She can't make out what he's saying, only fragments of speech that makes no sense.
Her hands grasp his shoulders hard as his lips flutter over a hardened nipple. Her mind barely registers his muttered make you dirty and something like teach you a lesson before he bites down on her nipple. She arches her back on a scream and he's chuckling, grinning like a mad man when he slams into her hard. Her scream catches in her throat as they share a deep groan. She feels overstimulated, but wants more and she doesn't know how to deal with it.
He's holding still within her, allowing her to catch her breath and get used to his size, but all she wants is movement. She cants her hips, grinding herself against him and the friction against her clit causes her to sink her fingers into his shoulders and press her breasts against his chest. Her brazen attitude towards their coupling causes him to growl and then he's pressing her down into the floor, his cock pistoning into her at nearly an impossible rate.
She cannot recall ever feeling so womanly, or so dirty. It is an empowering feeling, one that she finds exhilarating, but she is dimly aware that Draco Malfoy is the only wizard to ever make her feel so wanton. In the past, she'd never considered herself to be a sexual creature, but with this man, it was all she could think of.
He's pushed her a foot across the floor of her living room when she feels the tightening in her womb and his accompanying groan when her muscles clamp down on him. He gives three, four more thrusts before she's careening over the edge of her orgasm, nails raking down his back and body taut with her scream. She's barely come back into herself when he stiffens over her, and her inner walls milk him as he comes within her.
He collapses onto the floor beside her, and it takes minutes for their breathing to return to normal. She has no clue what to do with herself or what's going to happen next, and the word 'regret' is just beginning to flit through her mind when he gives a coughing laugh.
"Bloody hell, Granger," he chuckles darkly and the sound sends a chill through her. He's sprawled on the carpet next to her, and her mind is dimly aware of the fact that she's only half dressed. He doesn't offer her anything more, and she doesn't know what to say in response.
With a sigh, she pushes herself to a sitting position. Her hands fly to her askew bra, attempting to pull it back into place in some semblance of modesty. His hands stop her and her eyes fly to his, wide and questioning. He doesn't respond, but pulls her ruined shirt from her shoulders.
"They'll just get in the way," he says by way of explanation as he unclasps her bra. It falls away from her and she feels more naked despite their previous actions.
"In the way?" she asks, sounding confused and disoriented.
He gives her a positively devilish grin, one that has her body clenching for him, arousal flaring up in her again, and he says, "I'm not nearly done teaching you what happens when you cross me Granger." Her breathing catches at this, anticipation building her in chest when he continues. "Now go find us some food. We're going to need our energy," he promises with a wink.
Bloody hell, she's in trouble.
OOO