Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all its lovely characters are not mine.

A/N: Written for DramioneLove Mini Fest Round 3 (2018). If you've already read this on LJ, please note there are slight changes in this version (the ending, in particular) now that I'm not constrained by the word limit. Lots of love to my beta Katalina_Riddle and to Rzzmg for hosting the fest (and for making a couple of brilliant changes that I've kept in this version!).

The Thief in the Lift

By Hermione J. Granger

Guest Writer for PlayWitch Magazine

I had sex in a lift with Draco Malfoy.

Before I dive into the details, let me tell you a bit more about him – though, if you are a woman between ages 18 and 120 living in the United Kingdom, you may have heard of this man. If you are blonde and considered by your peers as at least moderately pretty, you may have also had your heart crushed by him. Not just because he led you on, bedded you, and left you with a fake Owl Post address–although, that is his modus operandi.

Malfoy, 29, does what any rich, misogynistic bachelor loves to do: he boasts to his vast circle of male friends – which includes Blaise Zabini, a staff writer at PlayWiz magazine – of his conquests.

Over the span of a decade, Zabini has written almost a hundred articles detailing Malfoy's sexual capers in a popular column he calls, "Adventures of the Thief of Tarts' Hearts." Malfoy gives exuberant expositions of his nocturnal escapades, and, despite changing the women's names for anonymity, their identities can often be extrapolated by their unique situations.

In the latest issue of PlayWiz, Zabini narrates Malfoy's night with a single, blonde owner of a certain establishment, of which he writes that "the thatched roof isn't the only leaky thing at the inn."

The target of this article is a dear friend, and the reason why I decided to write this story. I am not a journalist. Aside from my role in the war, you may know me as the chief executive officer of GrangerTech, a company that brought Muggle technology to your magical fingertips. You may even be reading this article on a mobile phone you acquired from one of my stores.

While I may not be a writer, I am a loyal friend – and a vindictive one, when someone I love is hurt. So, when my pretty, blonde friend came to me one night, clutching a copy of PlayWiz and sobbing in a way I had not seen her do since the Battle of Hogwarts, I decided to teach Malfoy a lesson by divulging this story – because, as the saying goes, turnabout is fair play.

I sincerely hope, Malfoy, that you are reading this, and that this article leaves you stripped and exposed, as your stories have done to the dozens and dozens of women left in your wake.

ooOOoo

As with all our encounters, our tryst began not with a kiss but an insult.

"I never thought I'd ever see that bushy head at the high table," said Malfoy as he entered the conference room.

We were at the top floor of the Bancroft building, where the Ministry requested the heads of the largest corporations of Wizarding Britain to convene every fiscal quarter.

There were twenty seats around an oblong table. Half the chairs were unoccupied. Malfoy pulled out the rolling leather seat next to mine. Whenever we were at the same function, he never passed on an opportunity to torment me.

"Granger," Malfoy said as he sat down. "Business doing that well that you finally got an invitation to the big boys' meeting?"

I kept my eyes glued across the table to a wrinkled, balding man slumped forward in his seat, gently snoring as we waited for the meeting to begin.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Malfoy lean in toward me. "Or maybe you're just a bit lost. I heard there's a Frozen Harpies and Bitter Spinsters meeting ten floors down; perhaps that's the room you should be in."

I gritted my teeth and turned to glare at him. "I'm at the right place. Let's not forget whose stocks topped the other's last quarter."

His gaze brushed over me. I felt like I was wearing a slinky nightgown rather than my smart blue skirt suit. "Don't think I mind that you're on top," he said with a wink.

"Good," I said. My fingers hurt as I gripped my armrests. "Because my company is going to keep topping yours until it folds, and you're personally ruined."

Malfoy tutted condescendingly. "Have you always been this feisty?"

I brought my right hand in front of me and glanced at my palm as I flexed my fingers. The movement caught his eye, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he stared at it.

"You tell me," I said, arching an eyebrow at him.

He cleared his throat and looked away. As the meeting was called to order, a triumphant grin formed on my lips; I hoped he noticed.

ooOOoo

We were dismissed by evening, and I gathered my notes and reports – a significant stack of papers that took a while to collect. By the time I reached the lobby, a lone figure stood waiting for the lift.

The steel doors slid open as I approached, and I stalked past the blond man to step into the car. I pushed the button to shut the doors before he could come inside, but he slipped in sideways just as the doors rushed closed.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at me and muttered, "Petty. You could have killed me, you know."

I glanced up at the numbers descending from 80 as the lift crept along. I shrugged. "There's still time."

He grunted and reached over to press the emergency stop button. The car halted with a shudder.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"I'd like an apology," he huffed.

An astonished guffaw escaped from my chest. "I didn't realize you moonlighted as a comic, Malfoy! You're hilarious!"

"I mean it, Granger. Apologize for what you did to me."

I rolled my eyes and released the stop button; he immediately pushed it again.

"You're not going anywhere until you say you're sorry," he said.

"You're such a child!" I pressed the button.

He tapped it back on. "I'm the child? You're the one who tried to decapitate me with the doors!"

I hit the button; he smashed it once more.

I stomped my foot, aware that I was proving him right, but unable to release my frustration in any other way.

"Damn it, Malfoy, let me go! I have an early meeting tomorrow morning, and I still have a lot of work to do when I get home!"

After a few moments of glaring at me, he blew out an aggravated sigh and nodded. He pressed the button again.

Nothing happened.

I felt my shoulders tense. I frantically pushed on the panel as I gazed at the indicator above the door. The lift remained stuck on the 63rd level.

"Oh, calm down, Granger," Malfoy said. He took his wand from inside his jacket. "Let's just Apparate out of here, and–"

"Wait!" I grabbed his left forearm before he could mutter the spell. "We can't just Apparate out, you idiot! There's an Anti-Apparition ward! We can't do any magic, at all. This whole place is warded against any magic not rooted in its foundation."

His lips settled into a thin line. "Fuck," he said.

"Exactly. We're completely buggered, thanks to you."

"Let's just hope that whoever's at the security office can hear the lift's emergency alarms–"

I shook my head. "The building doesn't have a patrol." I glanced at my wristwatch and groaned. "And it's after eight, which means there's probably no one left to notice the lift has stopped."

He blanched. "Shit."

"No fucking kidding." I looked around for a service hatch but found none on the walls or ceiling. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night."

Malfoy's expression contorted. He faced away from me, fists shaking at his side. "Fuck!" He punched the wall, and the car trembled.

I threw my satchel to the ground. He rounded on me, eyes flashing and forefinger jabbing in my direction. "This is your fault!" he said. "If you'd just apologized—"

I thrusted my right palm in front of him, interrupting the tirade. "Don't you dare! This is entirely on you!" I stomped towards him until the tip of my nose almost touched his collar. His back was forced against the wall, and the silver of his eyes nearly disappeared as his pupils dilated.

"You better step away, Granger," he growled.

Never had I felt more aggravated than I did at that moment. My hands itched for action. I shoved his shoulder roughly to punctuate my words. "Or what, Malfoy? What could you possibly do to make this situation worse?"

I stifled a gasp as he snatched my arm and flipped us around. He pressed me against the cool metal of the lift, pinning my wrist above my head. I slapped him with my free hand; he easily caught it. It joined my other arm on the wall. "Let go!" I tried to yank my wrists free, but his fingers gripped like steel cages.

"You're a fucking menace, Granger." His eyes swept over me as they did in the conference room, but this time heated and with a hunger that I had never noticed.

I felt heat flush up my neck and into my cheeks. In my rage, I jutted my head at him and snapped my teeth, grazing the skin of his jaw. He snarled and bent down, imprisoning my lips in a searing kiss. He lashed his tongue against mine, and I reciprocated the onslaught.

I did not realize he had released my arms until my fingers were already entangled in his white-blond hair. I planted both palms against his chest and shoved him away. Malfoy stumbled back to the other side of the narrow lift. His hair was disheveled, and he panted as though he had run a race. His eyes were rounded with surprise and apprehension...and desire.

A feeling that was also clawing its way out of my chest.

Before I could change my mind, I stepped to where he leaned against the wall; he visibly gulped as I neared. Placing a hand on each side of his head, I pulled him down for another kiss. He grunted appreciably against my lips. I sunk my teeth in his bottom lip in response. Malfoy shifted us around, and, once again, I was trapped between him and the wall. I shoved his jacket down his arms as he unbuttoned my top and eagerly stroked each inch of exposed skin with his tongue.

As I undid the fly of his pants, I mumbled a sentiment conveying how much I hated him.

"Shut up," he said against the lace of my bra, through which he worked his tongue over a nipple. He hiked my skirt up to my hips and shoved my panties aside just as I freed him from his trousers.

I felt deliciously stretched and filled as he pounded me against the unforgiving wall. I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him deeper. He bit and sucked at my neck; I knew I would need Bruise Paste in the morning. To retaliate, I yanked at his hair and stuck my hands down the back of his shirt, dragging my nails across his skin until I heard him grunt in pain. He repaid me by grinding me harder against the wall.

The lift must have shaken and trembled at our actions, but at that point, neither of us paid any more attention to our surroundings.

ooOOoo

After what must have been hours later – and another bout against the opposite wall, followed by a lengthy session on the floor – Malfoy and I sprawled on the ground facing each other on our makeshift nest of discarded clothes.

I was drifting to sleep, my body more relaxed than I ever remembered, when I felt a hand gently touch my cheek. I opened my eyes. Malfoy gazed at me with a look my exhausted mind could not quite decipher. His thumb caressed my lips as his warm palm pressed against my cheekbone.

I smiled at his unexpected tenderness. We stared at each other for a few silent minutes.

"What, erm-" Malfoy cleared his throat. "What are you thinking about?"

"Pillow talk, Malfoy? Really?" I asked, giggling in surprise.

He grunted and leaned over, kissing me until my snickering subsided. He pulled away and pinned me down with a questioning look.

"I'm just thinking about how ludicrous this is, lying post-coital with you on the floor of a lift." I let out a breathy laugh, still in disbelief. "I wonder how Zabini's going to write about this one."

Malfoy shook his head but said nothing.

"From what I've heard," I went on, "you've got a very particular taste, so this might prove to be a challenge for him."

"'Particular taste?'" he asked wryly.

"You know, your type: blonde, leggy, and sexy. The type that always shows up in your stories. He'll have to crack open a thesaurus to describe me."

Malfoy stared at me, licking his lips as if suddenly nervous. "I do have a very particular type," he said slowly, "but it's certainly not 'blonde.'" He tucked a curl behind my ear. His hand skirted along the outline of my curves, down to my thighs. "And maybe not 'leggy' in the classical sense." When his hand reached the back of my knee, he hiked my thigh over his hip and pulled me closer. "But 'sexy'?" He grazed his lips lightly against mine and whispered against them, "Without a doubt."

My breath hitched. As my lips parted in amazement, my mind fought against the implication.

He noticed my shock, because he chuckled dryly and pecked a kiss on my hair. "Get some sleep, Granger," he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he turned on his back and closed his eyes, heaving a weighty sigh. His eyebrows furrowed, and the corners of his lips downturned.

I stared at his profile a moment longer before I snuggled closer to him, laying my head on his chest.

He wrapped his arm around me as I shut my eyes.

ooOOoo

We woke up when the lift shuddered to life. Jumping up, we dressed in silence, avoiding eye contact until the doors slid open on the ground floor.

As he stepped out, he glanced at me over his shoulder. I saw a mixture of melancholy, regret, and something else – a look akin to injury, as though I had taken something from him. In finally bringing this story to light, I hope I have stolen from this infamous thief: his reputation.

In the year since our rendezvous, our tawdry encounter has never been splashed on the pages of PlayWiz. Perhaps because this story dares to reveal a depth to Malfoy's nature. Under that veneer of a callous, affluent playboy, there might exist a vulnerable man with real feelings. I wonder what his inner circle of Pureblood friends or his PlayWiz fans and acolytes will do with this information. What will they think of their tarnished idol?

Or, perhaps, our story has never been publicized because of a simpler answer: it was a grave mistake that Malfoy would rather forget. In this case, if he reads this, I hope it pains him to remember. I think it will.

We still see each other at the quarterly meetings, only he no longer sits next to me, and he is the first to run out as soon as we are dismissed. We have not spoken a word to each other since we stepped off that lift.

Sometimes, I catch him staring at me across the boardroom. He still has that raw, wounded look in his eyes.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I feel ambivalent about doing another chapter for this story. On the one hand, I kind of like where I left these two…on the other hand, I have a few ideas where I can take this further. What do you think? Should I keep going?

Prompt: Thief of Tarts - PlayWiz has dubbed sexy, rich bachelor, Draco Malfoy, the 'Thief of Tarts' Hearts', and he revels in the title. His blatant and cruel misogyny grates on Hermione's last nerve. She's going to teach Draco a lesson about toying with people's feelings!

Reviews are appreciated!