A/N: Trigger Warning: This story is called Apostasia which is a Greek word from which we get the word apostate, which means a person who renounces a religious or political belief or principle and has connotations of disloyalty. This story is about infidelity and is rated M for a reason. But it isn't just a story about how Draco and Hermione end up together because they are cheating on their spouses for no other reason than to be bad spouses, it's about more than that, which is why I didn't give the story the title Unfaithful. It's not just about Draco and Hermione, it's about their working relationship and the relationships they have with their spouses and the fallout of their affair. If this doesn't sound like the sort of story you want to read or you have issues with the topic of infidelity, please stop reading now. This will be the only author note I write because I want to tell a story that has twists and turns not a story where you already know what's going to happen because you read the summary in the author note. That said, if you do stick around for the ride, know that I am thankful to have you on board. LJ x


London

September 2008

Hermione's new kitten heels clicked along the highly polished stone surface of the corridor as she made her way to the office she shared with her partner, two steaming cups of coffee in her left hand, her right wrist threaded through the handle of her soft leather briefcase. She smiled warmly at various members of the team of aurors who worked in the main office as she strode purposefully towards the door with her name plate just above that of her partners.

It always gave her a sense of smug satisfaction to see her name above that of Draco Malfoy, however he was always quick to point out that the rationale for this was most likely alphabetical, not superiority.

"Morning, Malfoy," she greeted, handing him his usual black Americano, taking the pastry that he offered her in return with thanks. She couldn't recall now how their morning ritual had come about but it was as much a part of her morning routine now as her 38 degree shower upon rising at six fifteen or her twenty two minute tube journey from the apartment she and her husband, Ron Weasley, owned in Tower Hill, to the hidden entrance to the Ministry, located in Covent Garden.

Draco took a sip of his coffee as Hermione settled into her desk. "I wouldn't get too comfortable," he told her as she started to remove her files from her briefcase. She looked up at him, confused. "Oh?"

"Briefing has been pushed forward. Potter said we should go up as soon as you got here," he informed her rising from his desk. Hermione sighed, gathering her files as Draco shrugged on his jacket, holding the door open for her.

It hadn't been easy for either of them when they had first been assigned to work together, but Kingsley had insisted on Harry placing them together saying that no one else would work with an ex Death Eater and no one else would be able to put up with Draco's shit.

Harry hadn't liked the idea. In fact he had given it six weeks before one of them caved and resigned. Hermione came the closest, even going so far as to fill in a transfer form, which she had then retracted immediately when she overheard Draco that same evening in The Leaky attempting to cash in on the wager he had with Blaise.

Their working relationship had been tested to the absolute limits, as no doubt Astoria and Ron could attest to, having born witness to far more evenings than they cared to remember of Draco and Hermione ranting about the other.

Then, six months after they had been assigned to work together, a muggle bomb had exploded in a cafe next door to The Leaky Cauldron. Hermione had been caught in the blast as it tore through the pub. Had Draco not been with her, and had he not been so adept at potions and magical healing, Hermione might not have survived. Instantly realising that she had a rare magical blood disorder, he had apparated her straight to The Manor, rather than St Mungo's, healing her wounds himself as she lay in the guest room of the south west wing, far away from the north east wing of The Manor which he had not stepped foot in since the day Hermione had been tortured on the floor of the drawing room there.

Hermione had been grateful beyond words and the fate of their partnership had been sealed: From that moment on they had soared through the ranks of the Auror Division, taking over as lead investigators when Harry had been promoted to Head of the Auror Division. It was now a toss up between both of them as to who would be the next Head of Magical Law Enforcement.


Draco held the door of the conference room open as Hermione followed him in, their latest case files in her hand. Sat at one end of the long mahogany table was Kingsley Shacklebolt, to his left sat Harry. In front of them papers were strewn across the conference table, several boxes that Hermione recognised as coming from the Ministry archives, open next to the papers.

"Ah, my two best agents," Kingsley greeted them, smiling as he gestured for them to sit.

"Sir," Draco nodded, glancing at Hermione as they settled into their seats, who gave him a look that read: "no, I have no idea why he is here either."

Harry cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Okay, I'm going to be reassigning your cases…" he began, as he pushed two copies of a case file across the smooth surface of the table.

"What? We are right in the middle…" Hermione started, unable to control the shock that was apparent in her voice.

Harry held up a hand cutting her off. "Ron and Susan are going to take over the Meirer case. They had a tip come in while in Moscow last week. That Wolfsberg case?" Harry glanced at Hermione who nodded. "There might be a link."

"Right, fine. So you're taking us off our case, what do you expect us to do?" Hermione hissed, her cheeks flushing. It wasn't that she didn't think her husband was a competent Auror, this was about her pride: how could her best friend reassign her case to her husband?

Draco ignored the building tension, opening the file Harry had pushed across the desk. Seeing the photo on the cover page, he bit back the bile that rose in the back of his throat. "I thought this bastard was dead?" he asked, his words slicing through the tension as Hermione snapped her head around confused.

"We thought so too. But intelligence suggests he may be in France," Harry explained, twisting in his seat as the projector screen flashed up an image of a man in his fifties, his long tresses and beard greying with age, sat at a bistro table outside a cafe in Paris. Several shots had been taken, the projector moving through each still like a disjointed and awkward film. The man was leaning across the table, talking to a woman whose face was hidden from view. Something about her twenties style bob felt familiar to Draco as he watched her fingers go to her lips, cigarette in hand, as she took a drag.

"Shit," Hermione gasped as the woman turned slightly, enough for her to instantly recognise her. "That's Pansy."

Draco glared at Harry. "Why is Parkinson meeting with that vile bastard?" he hissed, watching as Harry shrugged. "We have no idea. All we know is that we need to bring him in."

"And that's why you are reassigning our case is it?" Draco challenged, anger rising in his chest. "Don't you think that presents us with a conflict of interest, Potter?"

Harry matched the glare Draco shot him with one of his own. "I don't care if it does, Malfoy. That depraved bastard needs to be brought to justice and I need my best agents on this."

Harry removed his glasses, sighing heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding to change tactic.

"Send Ron," Draco spat, rising from his chair, shoving it back roughly.

"Malfoy, I can't send Ron," Harry snapped, his temper rising.

Hermione shot Kingsley a look, silently begging him to interject. He smiled back at her, knowing it was useless to try and step into an argument between Harry and Draco. It seemed that some rivalries would never be forgotten.

"You have skills for this that no one else does," Harry yelled as Draco's hand pulled down on the door handle.

Draco spun around. "So you think you can manipulate me into accepting this case, Potter? That's a bit low for 'The Chosen One'," he sneered as his lip curled up menacingly.

"Alright, that's enough," Hermione's voice broke through their angry words, three pairs of eyes falling on her immediately.

Draco searched her eyes. "So you think this is okay, Granger? He is sending me, and I might add you, into the Wolves Den to retrieve a member of my family." He could not believe after all they had gone through she would still side with Potter over him.

"I don't like it either, Malfoy, but Harry is right. You have skills we do not; you know Rabastan better than any of the rest of us."

"Fuck this," Draco yelled, exasperated, storming from the conference room.


Several hours later, Hermione pushed open the door to their office, two sandwiches in her hand. Draco was sat at his desk writing reports, pointedly ignoring Hermione as she placed the sandwich next to him. Hermione rolled her eyes as he grunted his thanks.

"Talk to me," she said simply, as she settled into the chair opposite his desk. Draco continued to write, ignoring her as she opened her sandwich packet. Finally he chucked his pen to one side, anger in his eyes as they locked with hers.

"What do you want me to say, Granger?" he asked, his voice rising with his temper. "It's typical bloody Potter and typical bloody you," he spat, shoving his chair back roughly as he stood.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Me? What about me?"

Draco slammed his palm down on the desk causing Hermione to jump. It had been so long since they had fought that she had forgotten how he could affect her so much. Chucking her uneaten sandwich on his desk, she rose to her feet.

"You don't intimidate me any more, Malfoy, I am your partner…" she began, her cheeks flushing.

Draco pointed a finger at her menacingly. "Yes, yes you are my partner," he snapped. "You should have my back in there," he gestured vaguely with his hand as he spun around to face the bookcase, hands going to his hair and tugging at his locks that had darkened slightly with age to an ash blond.

"I do have your back," Hermione yelled. "When it counts, I always have your back."

"Except with Potter," Draco retorted, turning to face her.

Hermione let out a wry laugh. "Merlin, Malfoy, aren't you a little old for jealousy? Isn't it about time you let go…"

"This isn't about fucking jealousy, Granger. Fuck, how can you not see the way he is abusing his power? He's assigned our case to a lesser agent…"

Hermione raised her hand so quick that he didn't see the slap coming until he felt her palm connected with his cheek. "That's my husband you are bad mouthing," she hissed, eyes flashing with fury. Draco glared down at her as he leaned in dangerously.

"Do not do that again," he warned her, his voice so low it vibrated through Hermione as his hot breath ghosted her face.

Hermione shut her eyes taking in a steadying breath. As she opened them, she felt Draco move past her.

"Where are you going?" Hermione cried as he opened the office door, the two of them pretending not to notice the way the other agents scrambled to their desks in a vain attempt to look like they hadn't all been listening just outside the door.

"Home. I'll leave you and Potter to sort this shit out," he called over his shoulder before slamming the door so hard it shook the whole office.

Hermione fell into the chair, her elbows resting on the table as she dropped her head into her hands, trying to ignore the tingling that told her she had felt more alive in those last ten minutes than she had in more years than she cared to remember.


Hearing the floo roar to life, Astoria Malfoy strode gracefully from the blue drawing room into the hallway, her ridiculously tall stilettos clicking against the pristine marble flooring as she fiddled with her tennis bracelet on her left wrist.

As she rounded the corner into the wide atrium, she was shocked to see her husband begin his ascent of the staircase two steps at a time.

"Draco?" she called, rushing after him as he strode down the hall in the direction of the master suite.

"Draco!" she called again as she pushed the door to their bedroom open, hearing him turn on the shower. Crossing the threshold of the bathroom, confusion marring her features, she approached him quietly.

He had discarded his jacket in the bedroom, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows roughly, his tie loosened. Pressing his forehead to the cool mirror, eyes closed, he tried to ignore his wife as she entered the bathroom. He felt her small hand close around the top of his bicep, his eyes snapping open. Turning slightly, he peered at her over his arm, seeing the confused look in her eyes as she searched his.

Suddenly he reached out, pulling her in hungrily, his lips finding hers as his tongue pushed into her mouth. Astoria pulled back. "Merlin, Draco! What's got into you?" she cried a little startled by his sudden action. Theirs was a typical pureblood marriage, filled with enough respect, love and companionship to ensure a successful union, but lacking in passion. They had sex like clockwork, on a Friday night at ten o'clock. Astoria was therefore not used to Draco coming home in the middle of the day, storming into the bathroom and then shoving his tongue down her throat.

"Nothing, Tori. Is it so wrong that I want to fuck my own wife?" Draco asked, startling Astoria with his unexpected crudeness.

Suddenly her features softened as she reached out. Whatever was the matter with her husband, maybe the answer was to make herself available to him. He watched as her nimble fingers slipped inside the windsor knot of his tie. She bit down on her lip slightly as she loosened it. He watched the action, fascinated, as her lip fell from her teeth.

"Do that again," he whispered, smirking as she looked up at him confused. "Bite your lip like you just did," he instructed, unsure as to why he was asking her to repeat such a small, innocent action.

Astoria looked up at Draco coyly as her she dragged her teeth across her bottom lip slowly, growing aroused at the way Draco groaned. Suddenly his hands were on her back pulling her close, as his lips crashed against hers. He took her lip in his mouth, sucking gently before clamping his teeth down on the plump flesh, feeling Astoria shudder.

They tore at each others clothes before stumbling into the shower, the hot water pulsing down on Draco's back as he lowered his lips to Astoria's breasts. He took her hard nipple in his mouth as her fingers found their way into his hair. Arching her back, she moaned as he swirled his tongue before sucking gently. His fingers slipped inside her warm folds, slick with her arousal, his thumb caressing her clit as she bucked her hips. She moaned deliciously as he slid two fingers inside her, crying out his name as she came undone from his ministrations.

Lifting her up, he held her in place against the tiled wall as he positioned himself at her entrance. He felt her shudder as he slid inside her, burying himself to the hilt as the water cascaded between their bodies, the spray pulsing directly on Astoria's clit as she held herself open, Draco watching with rapt fascination as he slid in and out of his wife. It was the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

Tearing his eyes from where they joined, he found hers as he pounded her against the tiles, reducing her to an incoherent babbling mess. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of her around his length. Suddenly she arched her back, crying out his name, her walls tightening around him, pulling him over the edge with her. As he opened his eyes, his mind filled with images of another woman. He bit down on his lip hard, barely able to stop her name falling from his lips instead of his wife's.

Spent, they slid down until they hit the base of the shower, Astoria pressing open kisses to Draco's flesh as the water continued to pour down on them. Giggling quietly, she sucked his earlobe into his mouth as he tried not to think about what had just happened.
"That was amazing," she whispered, before standing and stepping from the shower. Grabbing her wand, she dried herself off before fixing her hair, make-up and clothes as Draco watched stunned as she blew him a kiss before leaving the bathroom.

Pulling himself up, he grabbed his shower gel, squirting some into his hand, lathering it up against his skin as he struggled to process what the hell had transpired just moments before. He knew fantasies were the sign of a normal, healthy, adult brain. But the last person he ever expected to picture in that moment, was Hermione Granger. Yes, they were close, he thought as he scrubbed his arms roughly. Yes, she drove him insane at times. Intellectually, he chastised himself as his cock twitched. Yes, he had to admit, he considered as he scrubbed his abdomen, she had certainly grown into an attractive woman. But he couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to her, he told himself as his hand slid down his length, his mind drifting to thoughts of her once more, picturing the way she threw her head back when she laughed heartily, imagining her throwing her head back in ecstasy as he pumped his erection.

No, he told himself as the water washed away his second orgasm. He couldn't possibly be sexually attracted to Hermione Granger.