Inspired by a Prompt from Deformis Occursum: A Harry Potter Meet Ugly Competition: I've been hired to kill you but you don't seem that concerned?
It was late in the evening when Hermione finally made it into her flat. She kicked her heels off by the door and dropped her bag and keys on the kitchen island.
It had been too long of a day and she needed a drink.
She pulled her hair out of her tight bun and let it fall freely, massaging fingers through her sore scalp. If there was someone to complain to, she would proclaim that she hated the Ministry mandated buns.
She was Minister of Magic for Merlin's sake, not a godforsaken nun. She made a mental note to revisit that legislation.
Barefooted, she padded along the kitchen tiles to her fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. A velvety red, one she kept only for special occasions. She uncorked it with her mouth and poured herself a large glass.
Larger than was appropriate. Much larger.
She left the bottle on the counter because she knew she would be going back for more. Moving into the sitting room with her glass in hand, she sank into her favorite chair. It had the perfect view of the city below.
She lived in muggle London and had splurged on a flat facing Tower Bridge when she was promoted. It was her favorite view when the sun set and the lights of the bridge twinkled off the river below it. She wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
The chair faced the floor to ceiling windows and she let the view consume her as she nursed her glass in silence. She felt the tension of her body seep out of her as the wine started to course through her body.
It was like a high. She felt the weight of her every limb as it relaxed, every finger tip and edge buzzing with relief.
She placed her head back on the rest and closed her eyes, breathing in the comforting scent of her home, and aimlessly sipped her drink as she wavered between sleep and reality.
The lights in her flat had dimmed by the time she brought an empty glass to her lips. She needed a refill, and something to go with it.
Cheese. She needed cheese.
Her motion triggered the lights as she rose to her feet.
"You can come out of hiding now," she called out.
Her voice was met with silence, but she knew he was there, listening.
She made her way back to the kitchen and opened the pantry door.
"I know you're out there!"
The crunch of plastic packaging between her hand was like a summons. He suddenly shot out from her bedroom and galloped down the hall. She had barely stepped away from the pantry before he was snaking his way through her feet.
"Hi Crooksy," she crooned, bending down to scratch behind his ears. "Hungry?"
He butted her hand and meowed his assent. She poured his kibble into a bowl and set it down before him. He dug his face into it and the sound of crunching was like music to her ears.
She loved the old cat so much.
Leaving him be, she remembered her need for cheese. It was a sin to have good wine with no cheese.
Hermione pulled the fridge door open and passed her eyes over the scarce fillings before she spotted it. A delectable smoked gouda. Her favorite.
She reached to pull it out, eyes passing over it, and looked for the best place to tear the package as she closed the fridge door.
As the fridge shut, in its spot was a different structure.
A much taller and leaner one.
A wizard with his wand pointed right at her. Her heart froze and she jumped back before recognition dawned on her.
"Malfoy," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
He loomed over her, dressed in a dark robe, hood up over his head, but the unmistakable white hair was difficult to miss.
She looked at him blankly, waiting for an adequate answer, for which she knew there was none. He sneered at her as he pressed the tip of his wand into her throat. She could scarcely see the tattoos peeking out from under his collar.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing," he spat, pushing the wand infinitesimally deeper into her jugular.
Hermione sighed. "Are you here to kill me, again?"
She pushed his wand out of her face and turned back to the counter, uncorking the bottle with her mouth and spitting it onto the floor. She felt his wand dig into the top of her spine.
She peered at him over her shoulder, his cold eyes meeting hers, and resigned herself to the fact that her day just got a little longer.
"I guess I won't be needing the glass," she said before pressing the mouth of the bottle to her lips and tossing it back.
His wand shifted against her back as he clenched and unclenched his fingers around it. It grazed her skin, less like a weapon, and much more like a caress.
She ignored him, slowly undoing the wrapping of her cheese. When she reached for the drawer with her cheese knife, his wand dug deeper into her.
She fumbled with the blunt knife in her hand, trying to decide how big of a piece she wanted, before it cut seamlessly through the soft brick. The aroma of its smokiness made her salivate. She placed a piece of it in her mouth and moaned.
It was even better than she expected.
His wand dug even deeper, shifting up her spine and into the base of her hair.
Hermione moved to slice off another piece. It stuck to the edge of the knife as it cut through the base.
She swung out the knife to him but he reacted quickly, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against his body. His cologne filled her senses, musky and rich. The same scent that filtered through her whole apartment. It screamed Draco Malfoy. It made her weak in the knees.
It took a mere second for the base of his wand to press against her neck and push her chin up into the air.
His voice came out as a growl. "What are you playing at, Granger?"
"I was just offering you a piece, you prat," she huffed.
Bringing the knife to her mouth, she pried the piece of cheese off with her tongue. His breath caught behind her, chest expanding and retracting along the lines of her back.
Bottle of wine still in hand, she placed it at her lips again for another sip when he snatched it from her hands.
"Hey!"
He flung the bottle across the room in a fit of rage and it shattered against the wall, sending glass shards everywhere. Blood red dripped down the white paint and pooled on the wood floor.
"I was going to drink that!" she snapped. "A perfectly good bottle of wine, ruined! Thanks a lot Malfoy!"
Draco paced away from her and into her sitting room, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.
"You owe me another bottle!"
"You stupid bint!" he burst out suddenly. He was like a flame igniting over gasoline, storming towards her as the hood flew off his head. She cowered against the wall and he came right at her, pushing her the small distance she had left before she was sandwiched between it and him.
His wand hand clenched at his side, he forewent it when he barreled into her and wrapped his hand around the base of her throat.
"You really want to die, don't you," he hissed. His breath coated the space between her neck and jaw, sending gooseflesh down her body. When she didn't respond, he tightened the hold on her throat.
"No, as a matter of fact, I do not," she rasped, making a point to meet his eyes before she continued. "And I don't believe I will."
Hermione could see the storm of grey flash and pull as he studied her. He was thinking, debating, plotting.
He was much easier to read than she once thought.
"If you wanted to kill me, you already would have."
He stayed silent.
She pressed her fists into the hard lines of his chest, ready to throw him off. She ached to spread her fingers out and feel more of him but restrained herself.
"I don't believe you consider me a fool, Malfoy. We both know I'm not."
He clenched his jaw at her proclamation, lips pursing as he huffed through his nose. She passed her eyes over his expression, studying the hard lines of his cheekbones and jawline, a perfectly angular face if she ever did see one.
"You think I don't know you've been tailing me for the last six months?"
She tried to push him off of her but he didn't budge, feet remaining rooted in their spot as he breathed down her head. Her throat constricted as he squeezed his long fingers around her neck, hard.
Hermione choked, eyes going wide, but he held the pressure for only a moment before he released it in a gentle brush of his hand up her neck. He let his fingers ghost along her skin, wrapping up the column of it towards her chin until he shifted to her nape. His hand was strong and sturdy on her skin, warm and familiar.
"You tail me at the Ministry...you follow me at the grocery store...I even saw you outside my parents house the other week."
He refrained from speaking as his eyes bore holes in hers and he tried to memorize the lines of her face, her freckles, and the way her eyes lit up at his touch.
"You think you're good?" she probed, pushing him where she knew it hurt.
He flushed, the faint pink coating his ears.
"I'm better."
In a flash he shoved her away from him, stumbling back from her, and she pulled her hand to her neck to massage the strain away.
But he didn't relent. She looked up at him and he had his wand trained on her, pointed at her heart.
"We both know you don't want to do that," she said, stepping closer to him and placing her hand over the tip of his wand. Though he looked down at her with rage, he didn't resist when she pushed his arm down gently.
Hermione took another step closer, closing the faint distance between them and wrapped her hand around the wood. He flinched as she brushed along his hand but didn't relent when she softly pried his fingers off of it.
His shoulders slumped forward as she took possession of his wand and placed it into her back pocket.
"What is it you really want from me, Draco?" she said, hoping he felt the vibration in his chest as the words left her mouth.
Of course, she knew what he wanted. And she couldn't give it to him.
"I hate you," he whispered, dropping his eyes down to the ground.
"I apologize that this assassination isn't going according to your plan," she said, hoping her words came across as obvious of a lie as his did. "And I hate you too."
Hermione pushed herself onto her toes and pressed her forehead to his. "I can't help you, if you won't help yourself."
She saw his fists clench again at his side, his body still coursing with anger and resentment.
"But you must stop trying to kill me. You have to stop pretending like you can, because we both know you're not a killer."
"I don't have a choice," he groaned.
She pushed his hair out of his eyes, and relished in the soft brush of it along her fingertips.
She missed his hair, she missed his body, she missed him.
"I'm sorry that's the case."
It wasn't a lie. She was sorry.
Not just for this. For so many things.
"But we made a deal."
His hands gravitated towards her hips, fingering the fabric of her shirt in hesitation.
His voice came out throaty, and a memory flashed in her mind that she quickly stuffed away. This wasn't the time.
"It was the stupidest deal of my life."
As he slipped his hands under the helm of her shirt and met her skin, he stilled. Where his fingertips touched hers, her skin was aflame. She burned and sparked and yearned for more. But he had crossed a line and they both knew it.
She placed her hands over his and gently pulled them out. He met her eyes, his filled with sorrow, and hers with regret.
"Maybe so, but don't forget the person who tried to stop you."
He dropped his eyes to the ground. She hovered in front of him for mere moments and felt his pull as much as she hoped he felt her push.
Hermione stepped away from him and turned towards the window. "You best be going."
She didn't look at him as she hummed the words she always did before he departed. "My Draco."
She felt his presence recede as if he took a part of her with him.
"Until we meet again," she whispered.
When she looked back towards the door, he was gone.
A/N:
This started strictly as a want to write sexual tension and somehow ended at hurt/comfort. Not sure how it happened, but I'm glad to be here.
I tried to submit this in a writing prompt challenge but doubted myself until the deadline passed and missed my chance. I figured I would still put it out into the universe this way.