He watched her through his thick eyelashes.
"And exactly what is it that you want me to do, Granger," he drawled, idly toying with a rather ornate looking quill.
Hermione closed her eyes, begging providence for patience. Patience Hermione, patience, she thought. I need his help. Barely a year after the death of the Voldemort and fresh out of school- however much of the world still remained the same. True, there was the superficial scapegoating of some of the more prominent Deatheaters, but many, nany such as that stupid prick, remained very much in charge. But then again, exactly what had she expected? She was only nineteen-true her connection to Harry Potter, the "Chosen One" as well the role she played in bringing down the Voldemort gave her a fitful little boost in the public eye-but none of that could possibly compensate for the fact that she wasn't even twenty. In the eyes of many , she was still a stupid inexperienced little brat struck with megalomania.
"What was the name of this ridiculous society called again? Spock? Spool? " He gave a theatrical pause as he tapped a limber finger against the fullness of his bottom lip. "Oh yes."
And then his smiled. Lips curving into a devilish smile. Beautiful, like a fallen angel. She forced herself back to reality. "It's the Society for the Preservation of Elvish Welfare" she managed to ground out.
He gave her a cursory look. "And why does this benefit me again?"
"Malfoy, this will help the Malfoy's public image which ahs been damaged by your association with Voldemort,"
He flinched at the sound of the name, and she saw his hands jerking towards his wrist. She trudged on.
"All I need is a few words from you to the right people, to smooth the legislative process. You- rather, your father, is still extremely influencial. Think of all the good you could do."
She stood up, and leaned towards him, bracing he arms upon the top of the desk. "Malfoy, there is no reason why you wouldn't want to help me. You will benefit, I will benefit, and most importantly, the house elves will benefit."
He leaned towards her, until they were eye to eye. She was suddenly very aware of his exact proximity, the scent of his cologne, every detail. His silken blond hair fell over his face, silvery in the dim light. His shirt was freshly ironed, and he smelled of pumpkin juice. And before she could protest, his pulled her against him, claiming her mouth. She could feel the hardness of his muscular body pressed against her own, the silken fall of his hair against his face, his hands thrust into her hair, at the small of her back, pulling her closer still. She opened her mouth to protest, and she felt the velvety slide of his tongue between her lips, teasing her.
She gasped, as she felt her own traitorous body react, moving against his own, encouraging him. He growled against her mouth, and pulled her over the desk. There was the rustle of papers falling onto the ground. She threaded her fingers through his silken hair, as she deepened the kiss. His hands moved over her hips, spreading her thighs, until she was straddling him. She felt the hard press of his erection against her inner thigh, and she suddenly hurtled back to reality.
"N-no!" she gasped as she moved away from him. She made a move to spring away, but he held her against him, easily, and spilled her onto the top of his desk.
"What's wrong, Granger," he muttered. He feathered kisses down the nape of her neck, as he caged her between his arms. "You came here because you wanted something from me, didn't you?"
His hands were at her breasts now, kneading them. She had a brief thought htat she had to get away, had to.. There came a knock at the door. Malfoy jerked upright and sank back down into his large comfortable chair. Hermione mewed as she made and effort to flip herself onto the other side of the desk, tumbling ignobly off of the desk, knocking off the few scattered papers that remained atop the desk.
"Come in," he said.
The door creaked open. She caught the sight of blonde hair from her vantage point at the corner of the desk. She groaned inwardly, and quickly busied herself in rearranging the scattered papers.
"Draco, I need to talk to you"
Lucius! Damnation, Hermione thought sulkily. She had hoped to avoid the older Malfoy.. although her plan wasn't exactly going well. She heard footsteps, and the sound of a cane tapping against the wooden floor. And then they suddenly stopped. She caught the sight of a booted foot. She could feel her internal organs withering in humiliation.
"Is that you Miss Granger?" Lucious drawled. "Exactly what ae you doing… on the floor?"
"I had a little accident father," Draco said sikily, as he propped his booted feet upon the top of the desk. "Don't mind her father, she came by to visit… and she was just about to leave… "
His grin widened as he caught her gaze. "Weren't you, Granger?"
(end)
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