Hermione had no idea how she ended up at the back of a bar, in Hong Kong, against the wall, right leg hiked up and hooked around one Draco Malfoy's waist, held still by his hand gripping the back of her thigh.

The soft thumping of the music from the bar was the only sound accompanying her breathless gasps and pants, as Malfoy's hot breath wafted over her cheek.

"Malfoy, what are we doing?" she breathed, melting at the sensation of Malfoy rubbing up against her.

"Letting off some steam," he huffed out and smashed his lips against hers. Hermione didn't even think of protesting; her mouth opened without so much as a prompt from him and she eagerly tasted the Firewhiskey on his tongue.

She felt her stomach tighten as the kiss got deeper and more desperate, and she felt heat pool between her legs.

Malfoy seemed to have caught this because he released her leg - gently - but his fingers began tracing her skin from her upper thigh, and up, up, up … until he found what he was looking for: the waistband of her knickers.

Then, he paused, and released her lips.

"May I?" he asked quietly. Hermione opened her eyes at this, not knowing when she had even shut them, to gaze at Malfoy's face - half illuminated by the street light nearby.

The butterflies in her stomach were going crazy at this point, but so was her mind because she nodded in consent, unsure of what she was even saying yes to. All she knew was that it was a "yes".

Malfoy kissed her deeply again, fingers pulling her knickers down and down and down, until they dropped to her knees.

The fingers disappeared for a while but what came next caused Hermione to gasp into Malfoy's hot mouth, because warm fingers began to touch her nether lips - so gentle it nearly tickled at first.

Malfoy never stopped kissing her, even as his fingers moved deeper into her core, stroking, caressing and teasing - spreading the wetness that had gathered there.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Hermione chanted in her head. She couldn't believe how unbelievably hot this whole situation is, and how good his fingers felt even though all he did was stroke her. She felt so good that it nearly ached.

One particular finger movement made Hermione's hips jerk so hard that she moved both of them, but instead of stopping, Malfoy seemed encouraged by this and kept doing it again, and again and again.

Hermione was trembling at this point, and she was so sure that her knees would give in soon but it felt so good.

She didn't give a damn; she tore herself away from Malfoy's persistent lips, threw her head back so hard that the back of her skull knocked into the brick wall behind her and let out the most passionate and breathless moan she had ever let out.

Malfoy's fingers were sliding around deliciously, urged on by her approving sounds.

"Feels g-good, mmmh..." she choked out, eyes glazed over as she tried to focus on Malfoy's face.

"If you could see yourself right now, Granger," Malfoy whispered. "So fucking sexy."

Hermione moaned more, so turned on by everything that was happening around them - her cheeks felt like they were on fire, and both her hands moved to clutch Malfoy's moving wrists.

"I … I think I'm going to cum, haa," Hermione gasped out. Mercifully, Malfoy didn't slow or speed up his fingers; instead, he continued that same, delicious momentum that made her lose her breath and bite her lips.

She was so close. So close. The heat started becoming unbearable that her head dropped to Malfoy's chest.

"No, let me see you," Malfoy whispered into her ear, as his other hand gently lifted her chin up. "Let me see you."

"Gonna… gonna," Hermione's breath hitched, but Malfoy got the message because he pecked her on the lips lightly, nibbled on them and kept his eyes trained on her face. "Fuck, Malfoy, unh..."

One more slow motion of his finger completely unravelled her, and she threw her head back again, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, and toes curling so hard as she shivered and trembled and came so gloriously - right there, in the back alley of the Penny Wong bar, because of Draco Malfoy.

Everything was spinning and out of focus, and she thought she heard some people giggle not too far away but she was too far gone to care.

But the giggles grew louder, nearer, and Malfoy immediately caught on, slid her knickers up once more, pulled her dress down and grabbed her hand.

Hermione thought one thing, as she hobbled along to wherever Malfoy was leading them both to: "What the fuck was that, and how the fuck did that even happen?"

Well...

A few hours earlier

She had been unusually frustrated and tired after a long day at the Ministry of Magic, sorting out mountains of paperwork, fending off the press as she tried to get her morning cuppa, scheduling conference after conference to lobby support in her running to become Minister of Magic, tossing away hate mail ("We don't need a Mudblood for Minister, fuck off") and more.

But the sight of her bodyguard in her home, double- and triple-checking his wards before he signed off for the evening made her even more frustrated. Not because of him, of course not.

It was the fact that she had been all work and no play for the past year or so, trying to make the world a better place, and yet she kept meeting wall after wall in the form of objections, hate, sabotages, threats … and most recently, actual assassination attempts.

In fact, it was the last item on her list of objections that warranted the need for a bodyguard. She needed the best, and that happened to be someone who was completely unexpected.

"Malfoy, what do you do for fun?" she had asked him bluntly.

He stopped his movements and scoffed, but sent her a mischievous smile before answering.

"Oh, I do plenty, Granger," he shook his head and continued checking his protective wards.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" She sat up from her sofa which she unceremoniously plopped onto the second she Apparated home.

This time he turned to look at her with an arched brow, and said, "I'm not sure I should be discussing this with my employer."

Hermione ignored his pointed look and continued looking at him expectantly, bright eyes and all.

Malfoy sighed a deep sigh and shrugged. "Well, when I'm not on call I go out for really nice dinners and then a couple of drinks after."

"With who?" Hermione replied, a bit too quickly. Thankfully, Malfoy didn't think too much of this.

The smirk returned on Malfoy's aristocratic face, "Some … people."

"Like dates? D'you have a girlfriend?" Hermione pressed on.

"I don't know why you're prying so much, Granger," he shot her a suspicious look. "But no, I don't have a girlfriend at the moment."

A couple of seconds of silence passed by before Malfoy cleared his throat and said, "Well, if there's nothing else, I believe it's time for me to go. As usual, send a Patronus if you're in trouble, though I'm sure nobody could get through my wards."

"Actually, Malfoy, I do have one thing I need you to do for me before you go."

Hermione saw the way his jaw clenched at that, but he was too polite an employee to say no - especially since her management was paying him really well for keeping a watchful eye on her.

She rushed off into her bedroom, threw open her wardrobe doors and picked a plain black slip dress she had intended to wear so many times before but didn't have the time to.

A little blush, a bit of lipstick and a couple of accessories later, she ran back out to an impatient Malfoy with his arms crossed.

His eyebrows quirked up at the sight of her, and Hermione couldn't tell if that was in appreciation or something else. With Malfoy, she'd always assume the worst but she didn't care.

Right now, she needed to blow off some steam. And who better to take her out and keep her safe than her own bodyguard?

"Take me to one of your fancy bars," she said as she scurried around the house, stuffing things into her small sling bag. "Preferably somewhere foreign, where nobody would recognise me and well, try to murder me."

"Pardon?" Malfoy asked calmly, eyes following her every movement as she now was deciding which shoes to wear.

"I'm asking you to take me out for a drink, or two… or more," she said, the last part being a mere mutter to herself; that was how badly she needed to let loose.

"And you're asking me, why?"

Hermione turned to him again, putting on a pair of flats and rolled her eyes.

"You're my bodyguard, why wouldn't I ask you? Plus, you know what Audrey and the others would say if they had found out that I had gone on my own, putting my life in danger and whatnot. They would have insisted that you come with me anyway."

"I understand that I am to be on call at all times as your bodyguard, but what if I had plans?" Malfoy retorted.

"Well, do you?" Hermione shot back, arms on her hips.

"No, but -"

"So come on then! I'm ready!" she came over and hooked her arm around Malfoy's and looked at him expectantly yet again.

Malfoy stared at her for a few more seconds, as if asking a million things at once.

"And don't worry, please send us your invoice for overtime," she said resolutely, feeling a little bit excited at the fact that this has been the first time she'd been out in months.

Malfoy seemed satisfied at that - of course, all he cares about is the money - shrugged and with a resounding crack, they both Apparated.

And now, at this fancy Oriental bar in Hong Kong, Hermione felt a little confused at the choice of location, but she wasn't 100% against it.

"Do you bring your dates here?" she asked Malfoy, who was seated next to her at the bar.

"Sometimes," he shrugged and lifted a hand to push back strands of hair that had come free.

Hermione took a moment to drink in the sight of him at that; he had rolled his always-black shirt up to his elbows, exposing his still-evident Dark Mark. Her eyes had been drawn to it for a while now, but not for any other reason besides the fact that it had reminded her of such dark times a decade ago.

Others were drawn to it too, mainly the other patrons of the bar and the bartender who had just said, "Hey, cool tattoo, mate!"

Malfoy had certainly grown into his pointy face, and Hermione thought that all things considered, he looked pretty dashing - and judging by the many eyes following him throughout the night, she was not alone in thinking this.

His hair was no longer slicked back like in school; he had it shaved off neatly at the sides and left the middle to grow a reasonable length, and he no longer looked as if there was dung perpetually stuck beneath his nose. Instead, he was now the image of quiet confidence, of a man who has seen a lot and made peace with it. His stormy grey eyes were no longer cold, but knowing, wise and observant.

And if Hermione was being honest, he wasn't too bad of a drinking buddy. A bit too quiet when it came to conversations, but the goal here was to relax and not chat, Hermione reminded herself.

"Why did you ask me to take you out, Granger?" Malfoy asked as he sipped his third, or fourth, Firewhiskey.

"You know why," Hermione threw her head back and flicked her hair back.

"Because you fancy me?" Malfoy grinned lazily, resting his chin on his hand.

Hermione sputtered a little but caught herself and answered laughingly, "I just need to let off some steam! And, and, and, as your boss, I think that would be highly inappropriate and unprofessional."

"Ah, okay…" Malfoy responded in a low, near-growl voice, but still sported the same smirk - probably thinking that the fact that they were getting tipsy together was already inappropriate and unprofessional anyway.

But as more drinks were poured down their throats, and more people started crowding the area, Malfoy started scooting closer and closer to her, so much so that their knees have been touching for the past hour or so.

None of them seemed to mind, and if Hermione was being completely honest, she quite liked it.

Conversations began flowing as walls started crumbling down between the both of them. They giggled, they flirted and at some point, they began exchanging touches here and there. Malfoy's hand never seemed to leave her knee, though, and the more heated Hermione's chest got, the more his hand seemed to inch higher and higher - or was it the other way round?

She felt heat and wetness gather ever-so-slightly when Malfoy began stroking her inner thigh, and despite her violent blush, she had to ask.

"What are we doing right now?" she blurted.

"That's up to you, Granger," Malfoy smirked, this time turning towards her completely, eyes focused on hers, hand still moving.

A couple of people had turned towards them, taken in by their sexual tension, but Malfoy didn't seem to care. Hermione gulped and looked around nervously.

"I … I'm not sure," she responded, this time while locking eyes with Malfoy. "But I don't … hate it."

"I won't do anything you don't want," Malfoy supplied.

Fuck, isn't consent the sexiest thing ever? But Hermione's brain went into overdrive at this; of course she wanted all this attention, all this sexy attention from Draco Malfoy, her bodyguard, but why is he doing this? Was it the Firewhiskey? What did she want to happen next? What was going to happen next if they continued, or if they stopped?

Hermione shook her head, but that was probably a bad idea because she felt even dizzier.

"Let me … I … I need to think. I don't know, I …" she mumbled and got up on her feet and looked for the toilet sign.

She walked towards it, only to see that there was a queue of ladies waiting to go in. Groaning, she moved towards the bar's back exit and pushed the door open.

Outside, she took a deep breath and appreciated the chilly air - a welcome reprieve from the heat inside because of the crowd (or was it Malfoy?)

She rested against the wall not far from the exit, trying to think about something, anything, but it was just one huge blank.

Maybe… maybe if she could sober up within a few minutes, she'd be able to think about anything other than Malfoy, about how gorgeous he looked, about the wetness between her legs because of his touching earlier on.

Sure, she wanted to let off some steam but -

BANG!

The sound of the exit door being thrown open and hitting the wall shocked her out of her thoughts and she jumped.

She looked over at the door and saw Malfoy, dressed in his coat once more, stalking towards her with her coat in one hand.

Ah, so they were leaving, Hermione thought with a hint of disappointment. Perhaps that was for the better, because -

Without saying anything, Malfoy stopped right in front of her, toe to toe, and dropped her coat onto the floor.

Hermione gulped.

"Malfoy…" she began, and Malfoy inched even closer, slowly trapping her against the wall and pressing his body against hers.

"Yes, Granger?" he asked, body slotted so perfectly against hers that if she just moved a little, she would feel some exquisite friction.

She wasn't sure what his question was about, but all she was able to say was, "Yes, Malfoy."

Half a breath later, his lips were upon hers and Hermione was caught in what was possibly the hottest makeout session in her entire life.

And, much later, the hottest orgasm she had ever experienced.

She was still reeling from her high, even as Malfoy dragged her away from passersby and walking to what she assumed was the Apparition/Disapparition point, knickers so drenched that she trembled ever-so-slightly when pleasurable sensations shot up her spine.

Instead of stopping at the Apparition point, however, Malfoy marched on towards a neon sign written in Chinese but as they both approached it, Hermione could make out the words "Hotel" on the entrance.

Hermione's heart raced once more - Merlin, the very thought that whatever happened at the back of the bar was just the beginning scared her and thrilled her at the same time.

"I'd like a room for the night, please," Malfoy said in a gravelly tone to the receptionist, and after an exchange of a Muggle credit card and a key, he grabbed Hermione's hand once more and led her to a lift.

"Come here often, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, curious about how familiar he was with the surrounding.

"Actually, no," Malfoy said, eyes trained on the numbers that lit up - seemingly impatient. It was a rather slow lift, in a rather old hotel that only had four floors, yet even Hermione felt like it was taking too much of their time. Maybe it would have been faster if they had gone back to her place?

"No?" Hermione asked again, when the doors finally opened and they walked out together as Malfoy gazed at the numbers on the doors and walls.

"No, Granger," Malfoy said, finally stopping in front of a door. "But whatever we're going to do next, Granger, shouldn't be done in public."

TBC!

Sneak peek:

"Tell me how you like it, Granger. Do you like it fast? Or slow?" Malfoy purred.
"S-slow… just like that," Hermione gasped out, tightening her legs around his waist.