Feeble rays of sun streamed in through Hermione's window as she lay in bed, trying very hard not to think about the trip that she was about to take. Throughout her highly successful career in the Ministry of Magic, she had had to do many things that she hadn't wanted to, but this trip definitely ranked near the bottom of that list. And it was because of one person: Draco Malfoy. The arrogant, selfish, entitled, and ferret-like man had somehow managed to scuttle his way into the ministry of magic to work under Hermione's boss as well, and consequently the pair now worked in close proximity. They were Unspeakables, and they each delegated tasks to their own teams, often having to rely on the other for information. Getting Malfoy's help was like pulling teeth, and made Hermione truly appreciate her parents' jobs more because of this. He was stubborn, and though after the war he had made many public apologies and had donated more money that Hermione had probably ever owned to charities and restoration projects, any time Hermione looked at him, she was sorely tempted to punch him straight in the face as she had done many years before. On the bridge of his perfectly straight nose. His full, soft lips would form a perfect "O" as they had done before and his high cheekbones would flush, accentuating his shock of blonde hair that much more...yes, he was arrogant and stubborn but that didn't take away from the fact that he was dismayingly beautiful. He had maintained his Seeker's body, and had defined broad shoulders that straightened when he made an authoritative decision. When he was frustrated, he would run his slim and deft fingers through his sleek hair, giving it a perfectly messy look, and Hermione often caught herself wondering if it looked like that after he'd had sex. As soon as these thoughts would slip into her head, she would quickly inwardly scold herself. It was Malfoy that she was thinking about. Ferret boy. The one who had teased her so many times before. It could never happen, not that she wanted it to. The trip that they were about to take together was a mandatory one as instructed by the Minister of Magic himself, and was about new security protocols that were being implemented within the Ministry. As heads of their teams, both Hermione and Malfoy had been sent in order to relay the information back upon their return.
Hermione sighed and finally got up, munching absentmindedly on a piece of toast before taking a quick shower. Her hair, impossible to tame with this little time, was thrown up in a messy bun with loose curls still escaping. She liked to think that she had grown into herself after Hogwarts, and appreciated the fact that she now had perky C cup breasts and wider hips. She pulled on a black pencil skirt, black almost sheer tights, a high neck but sleeveless blouse with a single black stripe down the front, and her strappy black high heels. She didn't usually dress this fancy at the office, but she felt that she needed to make an effort at this conference. There were witches and wizards from all over the world to impress. Swiping on a dark plum lipstick and pulling on a camel coloured trench coat, she grabbed her duffel bag and apparated into the Ministry.
"Granger." Malfoy was leaning up against the floo fireplaces, punctual as usual. Hermione couldn't help but appreciate his sense of style. She didn't think of herself as a vain person, but when a certain blonde haired man was wearing tight grey plaid pants, a black dress shirt tucked in, a belt with two snakes on each side of the clasp, a grey trench coat and smart black combat like boots, who wouldn't stop even momentarily to take it in?
"Malfoy." Hermione nodded and pressed her lips together. She noticed that Malfoy was looking her up and down as well, and suddenly felt self conscious in her tight skirt and high heels.
"My my, you clean up nicely. I'm assuming it's to impress the Minister of Magic of Germany. I know he's 82, but you know spells these days. Becoming ever so much more useful for...certain activities."
"Sorry to disappoint, Malfoy, but my age limit is 80." Hermione shot back, used to their routine of back and forth banter. The blonde haired man smiled a dazzling grin, looked her up and down, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "more to myself", and strode over to one of the numerous slick black fireplaces that lined the walls.
"Let's go. Can't keep the Ministry darlings waiting."
Fifteen minutes later, in France.
"Let me get this straight. There's only one hotel room booked for the both of us and there are no more rooms available? How did that even happen?" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing her assistant who had made the reservation at the magical hotel weeks in advance.
"Yep. It's ok Granger I'll take the pull out couch." Even Malfoy looked slightly put off at the change of plans. No doubt he'd planned to lure some poor innocent witch back to his room after one of the evening parties that were held after the conferences in the day. Gross. For some reason, the mental image bothered Hermione, and the slight twinge in her temples threatened to blossom into a full blown headache.
"Let's just get back to our room. We can sort out the sleeping details later." She magicked her bag to float behind her as she apparated up to the 14th floor. All of the rooms taken, my ass, she thought. The hotel was enormous, being the most popular choice by witches and wizards when visiting Paris. Malfoy was by her side almost instantaneously. She tapped a circle on the door which was bewitched to only open to the wands of those who were staying in the room. And ok, the room was really nice. The bed had a puffy duvet and more pillows than one or even two people could ever need. The bathroom had two sinks and a large shower and standalone bathtub. Hermione vowed to kick Malfoy out of the room for long enough to indulge in at least one relaxing soak that weekend.
"Well, it's kind of small but it's something." Malfoy tossed his bag nonchalantly onto a large comfortable looking armchair and walked over to the window. Of course, this was probably the type of room one of his house elves slept in at his oh so wonderful Malfoy Manor.
"Why don't we just switch who sleeps in the bed both nights. I'll take it tonight and you can take it tomorrow." Hermione proposed.
"Sure Granger. Whatever you say."
The rest of the day passed uneventfully as they attended the first conference of the Friday, Hermione dutifully taking notes upon notes of parchment paper and Malfoy surprisingly behaving himself. They apparated together back to the hotel room to get ready for the first party of the weekend. It was a semi formal cocktail party, intended so that people could socialize and meet with officials from different countries.
"I'm going to jump into the shower, did you need anything in here before I go?" Malfoy inquired.
"No, I'm just going to do my makeup and hair out here."
"Ok. Don't come in. Or do." Malfoy winked at Hermione, annoyingly causing her to blush slightly before she turned to start the task that was getting her hair to cooperate and do something other than poof out. Hermione put some music on, as she hated getting ready in silence. "D'yer Maker" blared out of her magical speaker and she swayed to Led Zeppelin's smooth guitar solos and slow beat. Looking up, she noticed that Malfoy was staring at her in the doorway of the bathroom, his arms crossed and leaning up against the door frame as he was doing when they met earlier that day in the Ministry.
"Problem? Is the shower too small for his royal highness? Does mommy usually get the house elves to serenade you? Do you only shower with spring fed fiji water heated up by Merlin himself?" Hermione stuck out her bottom lip in a fake pout. She was awarded by an eye roll and a slam of the bathroom door. Triumphant, she continued with her work. It took until after Malfoy had finished his shower and was fully dressed in a flattering dark emerald suit that Hermione was satisfied with her hair and makeup. She'd kept it simple and had swept it up into a sleek ponytail and had minimal makeup with only gold eyeliner on the top lids of her large eyes. She grabbed her dress and headed to the bathroom to change. She was actually excited for this dress, as she had been dress shopping the previous week with Ginny to get dresses for the Friday and Saturday nights of the conference. When the redhead had seen this particular dress, she had practically held Hermione at wandpoint before she bought it. It was black and tight with a straight low neckline and small straps. It was knee length and tight, and had a slit up the leg. Hermione felt that it was exceedingly revealing, but had to admit that it did show off her long toned legs and perky breasts. Her shoes were gold pointed pumps to match her eyeliner. Overall, she felt quite wicked. Moisturizing her body with her favourite scented lotion that smelled exactly like lily of the valley, she stepped out of the bathroom. And was rewarded by the blonde man actually gaping at her.
"Come on, we're going to be late." She beckoned to him. He took a second to regain his composure.
"Y-yes. Ok. Right, let's go." And together they apparated down. The first half of the evening was spent with everyone wanting to meet one of the Golden Trio who had taken down Voldemort, and Hermione was exhausted after all the questions and hand shaking. Honestly. Five years later and she was still the talk of the party. Wanting so badly to massage her aching feet, she muttered a numbing spell which helped the situation and headed towards a more secluded table in the room.
"Here. Have a firewhisky, you look exhausted." A velvety voice came from behind her and the owner plopped down beside her on the bench.
"Thanks, Malfoy. That's nice of you." Hermione said somewhat suspiciously.
"Mother and Father had loads of parties. I hated talking to that many people. I know the feeling." He shrugged.
"Huh. Well thanks. I think the Minister of Germany really might have been trying to hit on me, you know." Hermione giggled. She immediately stopped and coughed. Since when did she giggle?
"Oh? Do I detect a third person coming to share our humble hotel room this weekend?" Malfoy grinned devilishly.
"Absolutely fucking not." Hermione tipped the firewhisky back, immediately feeling its warming effects. Another one materialized in the shot glass the minute it disappeared. Delicious.
"You can change what's in it, you know." Malfoy tapped his wand and the contents of the glass changed to a violent green. "Green apple vodka." Hermione surveyed the contents, decided that it probably wasn't poisonous, and tipped the liquid into her mouth again. Dangerous.
"So, what does a Malfoy usually do at a conference such as this?" Hermione asked, emboldened by the alcohol that was working its way into her system.
"Oh you know, dance a little, seduce a couple of witches, the usual." He had leaned in slightly at the word seduce and a small shiver ran down Hermione's spine. His lips really did look delicious. She wondered what it would be like to take one and bite it gently. As usual, she scolded herself for letting herself think this way, and downed another shot of the delicious green apple vodka.
"Oh seduce? Is that right. You think you're so charming." Hermione teased, but smiled at the words.
"I am." He said simply, and scooted closer to her. She could smell expensive cologne on his skin and another smell, one which reminded her of long corridors and books and childhood and Hogwarts.
"And do you have some sort of pickup line to enchant these poor victims?"
"I don't need one. My dashing good looks and impeccable sense of humour always help me out." Malfoy tossed his hair and pretended to look around the room in a haughty manner.
"And your shocking modesty." Hermione laughed and then spotted a familiar shock of white hair heading her way. "Shit! It's the Minister of Germany. I seriously can't take another inappropriate joke, come on!" She grabbed Malfoy's hand and dragged him out of the seating area, around the corner, and behind a curtain which hung enchanted from the ceiling.
"Miss Granger, how undiplomatic of you!" Malfoy exclaimed in mock horror, trying to contain his laughter. Hermione smirked and made to swat at his arm, but missed and realized how much the alcohol was actually affecting her when she started to fall. With the reflexes of a Seeker, Malfoy darted to the side and held her up.
"Whoa. Lightweight much."
"Yeah. Surprise surprise, the nerdy girl who used to spend all of her time in the library at Hogwarts doesn't down pints every Friday night." Hermione experimentally shifted her weight from side to side. She seemed to have regained her balance. She smiled sheepishly and looked up at the blonde and this was when she realized how close they were forced to stand in order to fit behind the curtain. Malfoy's hands were still on her hips, and Hermione was holding his arms. His strong, surprisingly muscular arms. She bit her lip as the smile left her face. He gazed down at her and parted his lips slightly, which is when she lost it. Alcohol spurring her on, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, and it was so much better than she could have ever thought. He tasted of green apples. He was caught off guard at first, but recovered and pressed her against the cool stone of the wall behind them. There was nothing patient about the kiss; their mouths quickly opened as their tongues met. Hermione couldn't get enough of him. She slid her hands up his arms and into his hair, grabbing on and tugging slightly which made Malfoy groan and grind his hips into her. She could feel his want. One of his hands was still gripped tightly on her hip as if he was afraid she would lose her footing again and the other gripped the back of her head at her neck. The kiss became more and more heated. Hermione's hands moved down to his shirt and she undid the top button, experimentally running her fingers along the newly exposed skin. This elicited another groan. Malfoy lifted Hermione up and as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he pushed her up against the wall again, grinding his hips into her at a seductive rhythm. She was wearing thin black lace panties, and they were getting more and more wet as they continued to kiss. She shifted so that his member was rubbing against her clit, and she gasped loudly. This gasp seemed to pull them out of their trance enough to look around and realize that this was not the time nor place.
"Let's get back to our room. Now." Malfoy's voice was deep and gravelly from arousal and it made Hermione want to jump on him all over again.
"O-okay." Hermione's voice was slightly timid, as they apparated back together. The alcohol was fading slightly, and she was losing some of her bravery, and also gaining back some common sense. Was she really just kissing Malfoy? The one who had called her a mudblood when they were younger?
They landed in the room and Malfoy reached for Hermione again, but she backed away slightly. A crease formed between his brows and he lowered his hands.
"Sorry Malfoy, I just...I was sort of drunk down there and I don't want to make things weird at work, and you're you...and I'm me." She wrung her hands and bit her lip. A guarded expression settled on Malfoy's face.
"Yeah totally. I mean I get it, mine and my family's name has been ruined after the war. I get why it would be embarrassing for you." He strode away, looking out the window.
"What? No, I mean you and I have history and-" She cut herself off before she finished her train of thought. You're hot and I'm just so not. "I'm tired. Also this is ridiculous, that king sized bed can sleep both of us." Hermione said, feeling bad for making him take the sofa bed. Malfoy turned around and took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the back of the armchair. Hermione gazed at his broad shoulders and toned chest which were accentuated by his tight dress shirt. She thought of how amazing it felt to kiss him behind the curtain, his soft lips pressing urgently against her own. The feeling of running her hands through his hair, which was now wonderfully tousled. Unbuttoning his top button which was still open and partly exposing his chest. His strong hands gripping her so hard she might have bruises tomorrow. She hoped she would.
After they had both silently gotten ready for bed, they climbed into the large bed, politely said goodnight to each other, and tried not to think about how little clothes each other was wearing and what had just happened. Hermione preferred to sleep in small pajama bottoms and a tight tank top and Malfoy slept in long grey pajama bottoms and nothing else. Hermione hadn't seen him shirtless as he was already in bed by the time she had finished taking off her makeup, and she was glad of this because she wasn't sure she could trust herself not to jump onto him. Sighing and dreading the thought of having to face Malfoy the next day, Hermione rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.