A/N

The present chapter has been updated.

Hermione Granger was not the sort of person to go around believing that life was unfair. No, she would argue each person was responsible for their own luck, be it good or bad, and that being well prepared took care of most displeasing and unaccounted for parts of your chosen path.

And yet, sometimes even she had to admit life could, occasionally, throw you for quite the loop.

Of course, that wasn't something she thought about often, or at least not until she walked in on Ron and Lavender going at it like bunnies on her apartment's couch. She had to give it to life, though, as it possessed a strong capacity for irony - the only reason for arriving home early from work that day being wanting to surprise Ron with a romantic dinner for their five year anniversary. And she surprised him, alright.

So, kicking them out sans waiting for Ronald's inevitable need to "explain" everything - as if he could begin to explain that - she set herself a hot bath and considered the events of the night. She had tried to find some sense in it. She looked at the facts over and over, trying to figure out what she did wrong during the course of their relationship to make him seek something - someone - else, but despite having put a lot of thought into it, no groundbreaking conclusion had presented itself.

Bringing their marriage to an end hadn't been easy - when was it ever? - something about it leaving her with what felt like a hole she couldn't fill. That's how a few months later, on one of her weekly lunches with Ginny - who had been nothing short of a mountain of support during the whole ordeal, generously offering herself as a shoulder to cry on and even threatening to hex Ron herself - she was intrigued at the redhead's question as to when was the last time she had a day off to herself.

It seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, and it did in part lift her spirits, but now, being all waxed, beautiful and relaxed, she found herself growing nervous at the prospect of the imminent massage, next in her programme. She had been quite calm and collected about it, but that was before she got to chatting with the lovely Russian girl doing her manicure and she informed her it was a naked massage - proceeding to then have a good laugh at her appalled expression.

"Ah, but is just massage, no? No need to be scared." the neat worker had relayed as she continued to paint her nails in a tasteful shade of red "Is not like those movies Americans make, you know?" throwing her a reassuring smile.

Needless to say, Hermione was more than a bit worried now, pressing down on the handle of the door and pushing forward.

Her eyes' first instinct was to take in the perfect lighting of the room, the whiteness of the walls - must've been magic how it all looked so clean - the overall floral scent of the air, and then for a second she was struck, her eyes widening on the spot, being met by a pair of steel blue orbs gazing back into hers, seemingly focused into memorizing every aspect of the moment.

Draco Malfoy, her long lost school rival, was right in front of her, casually leaning against one of the walls, the white T-shirt bunching up as he straightened his position, revealing a small part of the V of his abdomen, the white sweatpants complimenting him well - white did seem to be the theme of the day, didn't it? - it was a surreal image she could hardly believe, despite that distinctive beach blonde hair alerting her it was indeed him, after all these years.

She spoke first.

"This must be about the last place I had ever expected to see you in, Malfoy."

The sound of her voice seemed to pull him out of his trance and he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, I think it's safe to say this is not how I would've predicted my day would go."

Confused as to what she was supposed to do next, she let a wave of awkward silence settle between them as her eyes noticed the single massage table in the center of the room and a certain anxiety found its way on her expression, which Draco spotted without missing a beat and cleared his throat before continuing "You don't have to undress if you'd rather not" he affirmed kindly, before his pleasant smile turned into a smirk "I've never bought into all of that nonsense Gryffindor courage anyway."

Wanting to mock-glare, Hermione only managed a playful smile punctuated by a cocked eyebrow at the challenge, silently reminding herself there truly was no version of getting out of her shell that didn't imply actually getting out of her shell; so figuring it was a "now or never" situation, she closed the door behind her and then turned back around, holding eye contact as she methodically untied the knot on her robe and let it drop to the floor in one swift motion, leaving her stark naked.

It took two full seconds for Draco to realize he had forgotten to breathe, so he inhaled sharply while doing his best to preserve some sort of professionalism and focus on her face, not letting his gaze roam down to the exposed breasts tempting his peripheral vision.

His reaction was more than she expected - surely he saw plenty of beautiful women everyday, he must've been used to this - and it was her turn to smirk at the surprise spreading over his features, before adopting a coy grin and putting on her most innocent smile.

"How do you want me?"

Gulping, Draco attempted to work through all the dirty comments running around his head, opting for the textbook response - consisting of "Most women feel more comfortable starting on their stomachs" - and pointing to the massage table.

She followed the instruction and laid on it as he busied himself pouring oil on his hands, doing everything he could to distract himself from the exquisite woman and the way her ass looked so inviting, to the point where he couldn't wait to touch it and watch it bounce, preferably on his - he quickly shook his head, trying to send away the vivid image threatening to affect the state of his cock.

Feeling his gentle touch on her legs, she visibly tensed and decided one way to keep herself from overthinking whatever was happening, was talking.

"So" Hermione started, her tone sparingly shaky "obviously you don't have to tell me, but you can't blame me for being curious, either. What brings you here, Malfoy?"

After a few seconds of silence, she assumed it wasn't something he liked to talk about - or maybe not to her, it wasn't as though he had an obligation to, anyway - but he gathered his thoughts and confessed with a chuckle "My ex was a masseuse and she may have taught me a thing or two. Fast forward three years and multiple other failed hobbies later, this is how I now spend my weekends."

"I'm fairly sure there's more to it than that."

"There is, but it's your turn to talk about your personal life." he countered, now switching to her calves and eliciting a satisfied sigh out of the brunette.

"You don't read the papers?" she inquired weakly, too focused on how good his hands felt on her skin.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to spare for that garbage Rita Skeeter calls journalism."

"Well despite that being the general opinion, you have to admit quite a few people still pay attention to her stories." But that hardly answered his question, and she pondered spilling her heart to him for a brief moment before going on. "Ron and I broke up after I caught him cheating with - ah" she struggled to stifle a moan, her cheeks reddening at the notion "with Lavender. Lavender Brown, you might remember her, she was a Gryffindor in the same year as us" Hermione admitted, hastily trying to cover up the light sound.

He didn't mention her moan, choosing to focus on her thighs now and continuing the conversation. "Usually I'd say something along the lines of 'If he thinks he can do better than you, he's even more stupid than I gave him credit for - and I gave him quite a lot of credit', but I'm guessing you've already heard your fair share of those from people more informed on the matter than me" he uttered matter-of-factly, leaving her somewhat impressed at the show of maturity. In his youth, he would've been far more prone to throw mud towards anyone and everyone, but she assumed growing up had taught him that that's not always - if ever - the best way to go.

"So what will you say instead?"

"I'll settle for a platitude, of course. Everything will be alright, Granger." he consoled her sarcastically, earning a giggle from her at his assessment of the situation.

Finishing the massage on her legs, Draco was now pouring a new patch of orange-scented oil into his hands before he placed them over her ass in a slow, steady motion, as not to rattle her, and started kneading together the flesh. Goosebumps broke on her skin and he spoke again, wanting to show her they could stop at any given time should she want to "If this makes you uncomfortable - "

"It does" Hermione interrupted impatiently and a wave of disappointment washed over him, although he'd expected as much "but then again, it's not such a bad thing to leave your comfort zone occasionally. Plus, it's a controlled environment, what's the worst that could happen?" she added rhetorically, a soft gasp leaving her lips again as his hands traveled expertly on the smooth skin.

I could fuck all your bad memories out of you, came to him as a fleeting thought and he shook his head again to make it vanish. Yeah, I'm professional, my ass.

"So you don't want me to stop?" he double-checked, his hands halting to a stop, awaiting a clear reply.

She paused.

"No."

It was slow, assured, deliberate, and something about her demeanor in that second - similar to that of a woman on a mission - made Draco feel his blood rushing south, at the same time releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Do you want to stop?" she shot back in a way that told him she was already perfectly aware of the answer.

And miss those little sounds that escape your lips every time I touch you?

"No."

Fuck, no.

Shuddering at the way his unintentionally husky tone emphasized on no, she felt her face flush scarlet and hoped he wouldn't notice the fact that she was suddenly wet.

He did.

But not before inwardly chiding himself for his recurring-for-the-hundredth-time thought of taking her right there on the massage table. Because - as he told himself - there could've been any number of reasons why she was wet. Maybe it was simply the thought of having someone other than her idiot of an ex-husband feeling her up. Maybe it was that rush you had when you tried out something new. Or maybe, as the increasingly talkative voice in his head wouldn't let him forget, maybe it was for him.

He continued the careful caresses on her ass cheeks, alternating the motions, pushing them up, pushing them down, pushing them apart and letting them reunite at their own pace - an action that always caused her to let out a cock-hardening satisfied sigh - and he briefly wondered why it felt like his hands were made for this. For her.

And then he was done, the only thing left on the lower side of her body being her lips, the same lips he had tried really hard not to look at or even acknowledge in any way as he touched everything else; inhaling deeply and with a swift movement, he pressed lightly against her folds, her breath hitching instantly at the contact, at the soft, feather-like touches sending shivers down her spine.

Relishing the feeling as he kept at it for a couple of minutes, rubbing with care, spreading more of the citrus-y oil on every inch of sensitive skin, she silently gathered up the courage to break the tension-filled atmosphere.

"Is this included in the package I purchased?" she inquired, a mix between bashful innocence and unbridled desire, her question finding him off-guard; the wheels and cogs of his brain started to turn, wondering whether or not she thought he was doing something different - something special - for her. Then the inevitable realization dawned on him that she hadn't stopped him, so was it possible she wanted it as much as he did? Was it possible she was just as distracted by his presence as he was by hers?

She was definitely dripping, that much was clear, so he closed his eyes in anticipation before replying.

"Yes" he started, reopening his eyes, attentive to how her body would respond next "but this isn't" he finished in a low whisper as he moved one of his fingers to her wet entrance, causing her to pant.

"What is this, then?" she stammered between shallow breaths, her mind running a mile a minute considering any and all of the possible 'what if's as his digit seemed to be moving of its own accord, toying with her.

"Old acquaintance package" he offered with confidence.

"Oh? And what else does this particular package entail?"

Smirking at her boldness, he slid his finger in with ease.

A/N

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