She slid to the floor like he uttered a spell.

Her hands ran down the length of his suit and clasped onto his thighs as she landed between his outstretched legs. Her knees knocked against the hardwood floor, hard enough to bruise, but she didn't even wince. She was too intoxicated. His scent, his voice, his body warmth radiating underneath her palms, it was just as powerful as the swigs of alcohol. If she hadn't kept her grip on his thighs, she would have melted into the floorboards and puddled around his feet.

Hermione looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and the sight was divine.

She never realized how tall he was, or how long his legs really were. Her head didn't even reach the tops of his knees and his thighs blocked out everything around her. All she could see was him, splayed out in front of her with his dark eyes ablaze. And at that moment, nothing else mattered.

Nothing but her and him and that endless sea of rippling black fabric. Up close, she could see how the pinstripes really glinted in the light. Molten gold galleons weaved into the very pattern itself, she was sure of it now. Her fingers traced up those lines, up towards his belt, and his muscles tensed beneath her palms. He groaned at her touch through his clenched teeth.

His fingers twisted deeper into the tresses of her hair and he dragged her in closer. She was putty in his hands, and when he tapped her calf with the heel of his loafer, she settled neatly in position, with her knees together and her behind resting upon her heels. His expression was stern and his lips were downturned, but his eyes were full of wonder and she knew he was pleased at the sight.

"Hands to yourself until I tell you, Miss Granger."

Her face fell and her fingers clung to his thighs in protest. She didn't want to let go. The heat of his body was making her blood flow hot through her veins. She wanted to feel him through the fabric... wanted to run her hands all the way up those muscled thighs until she reached the bulge beneath his buckle that had teased her from the moment she spotted it. She wanted to cup her hands where the fabric looked tight and run her fingers along his length. She wondered if she'd have trouble with the zipper, if there was room for her hand to slip beneath his trousers, if he'd fit in her hand or if she'd have to use both…

He scowled at her and fisted his hand in her hair until she yelped in pain. "Don't make me change my mind," he snarled.

She whimpered and nodded her head. Her hands slipped from the tops of his thighs and skimmed along his inseam. His grip on her curls loosened immediately and she watched in awe as his head tilted back in pleasure, the column of his throat vibrating with a low, guttural moan as she caressed his inner thighs. When she reached his knees, her hands fell reluctantly into her lap.

He swallowed and tilted his head down at her. "I told you to kneel, I didn't give you permission to touch," he scolded. "Do you give all your professors this much trouble, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head.

"Just me then?"

Hermione stared at him. She slowly nodded. Just him. Only him.

His eyes seemed to shine in delight at that very same notion.

"It drives me crazy, you know," he sighed, letting his hand trail from the back of her neck down along the edge of her jaw. His touch turned soft again. So incredibly soft. He cradled her chin with care. The cool metal of his rings soothed her burning skin. Her eyes fell closed instantly. "All the professors talk about how wonderful Miss Hermione Granger is…"

"Mm, they do?" Her voice was a whisper. Her body was going limp.

"Oh yes, they certainly do. They tell me how smart she is, how skilled at charms she has always been, how she solved an Arithmancy problem not even Professor Vector could solve…" His soft voice turned bitter and he lightly tapped her chin. "So then tell me, Miss Granger, why you behave so poorly in my class?"

She opened her eyes and blinked at him.

"Speaking out of turn, squirming in your seat… touching what isn't yours," he said, staring plaintively at his trousers. "Do you enjoy it—torturing me? Wearing your short little skirt and planting yourself in the front row? Letting your legs fall open when you know I can't look?"

He reached for the collar of his shirt and lifted his neck to unbutton the top two buttons. Hermione bit down on her lip and her fingers twitched by her side. She wanted so badly to do that for him, and he smiled as if he knew.

He leaned down over her and lowered his voice. "Do you think I haven't noticed that you linger after class? That I know exactly what you're doing when you bend over to pick your books off the floor?" He sighed and stroked underneath her chin. "Should I tell them that Miss Granger doesn't pay attention in my class? That after each lesson, she rubs it in my face by showing off the wet little stain on her thin cotton knickers?"

A shiver coursed down the length of her spine as his gaze slipped between her thighs. It was like he could tell the heat was pooling in her core, that she was soaked through her panties and aching to be touched. Her thighs tensed and her clit began to throb.

"And now… plagiarizing? Not a very Hermione Granger thing to do. If she was as bright as everyone tells me, surely there'd be no need for her to copy from the book," he said contemplatively. "Were you trying to get my attention?"

His expression turned serious and his eyes were searching her face. It felt like a loaded question. Suddenly more than a silly little act. She shifted beneath his unwithering stare, and he softened his voice.

"You can be honest with me, Miss Granger."

But she shook her head. It felt like a dangerous game. Too close to reality.

"Would you believe me if I said I've been trying to get yours?"

Hermione froze. She didn't know what he meant… Didn't know if he was serious.

Maybe that's why it sounded so good. She leaned into his touch and keened as he spoke into her ear.

"I've been reckless, you know. Calling on you more often than I should… Piling on reading after reading so I can sit behind my desk and stare at the sugar quill tucked between these lips…" He slipped back into their game so easily. Or maybe he had never slipped out. That thought evaporated from her mind as he dragged his thumb against her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a quiet moan as he lifted her jaw.

"And do you have any idea of how many nights I've spent alone in bed, imagining the hand around my cock was your pretty little mouth? That I've ruined my sheets fantasizing about finishing all over your face and on your gorgeous tits? Fuck, " he groaned and it sent a current of electricity straight to her core. He fell back into his chair and palmed his erection overtop his trousers.

His eyes were flicking between her lips and her heaving chest. She shifted on the floor, that tingling sensation curling in her stomach as she watched him start to slowly touch himself through that perfect, beautiful fabric.

It was cruel. He was teasing her. He was going to drive her mad.

"Now look at you. Sitting so nicely between my legs, paying such good attention. Quick learner, I see. This must be the Miss Granger I've heard all about…" His left hand continued to steadily stroke along his trousers, his right hand returned to her chin. He tilted her head gently to one side, then to the other, humming to himself as if he was inspecting her. "What a beautiful little witch," he whispered. He brushed back her curls and she blinked slowly up at him. "Does anyone ever tell you that?"

Lines were blurring, her knees were trembling. Hermione shook her head.

His left hand came to a stop and he gripped his cock hard. He narrowed his eyes and anger flashed across his face. He glanced away, ink of his tattoo peeking atop his collar as his jaw ticked in irritation. He took a deep breath and looked down at her once more. "Pity... Do you want to hear me say it again?"

"Please, sir."

He leaned forward and his scent drifted into her system. Her vision doubled, but she fell in love with the view… His smooth porcelain skin and perfectly cut jaw. He dipped his head and whispered into her curls. "Beautiful," he repeated. His lips skimmed across her temple and she started to feel light-headed. "So fucking beautiful."

He sighed and let his hand fall from her skin as he reclined in his chair. She missed his touch and scent immediately. She whined for him again, and finally, he looked like he was about to break. His hand was moving faster now, his hips starting to roll in time with his strokes. The chair was creaking and his cheeks were flushed.

"Reckon the only better sight would be watching you fit my cock into your mouth. Now come here, Miss Granger, let me see how beautiful you really are."

Hermione was sliding forward before he could finish his sentence. Her hands were again running up his thighs aiming for the zipper of those blasted trousers. His hands fell away and he watched as she worked. Her fingers ghosted over his swollen erection and she smiled at the way he gasped for a breath.

"Fuck," he exhaled, rolling his head against the back of his chair.

She had forgone his belt buckle and focused on the zipper. She slowly pulled it down and slipped her hand inside his trousers. They both sighed at the same time.

Black silk boxers, exceptionally fine and so unbearably thin. The feeling was almost overwhelming. Her hand grew hot and she slipped deeper into his trousers. Soft, exquisite fabric over his deliciously hard cock. She wrapped her hand around what she could and squeezed at the base before gliding along his length. Draco threw his head back and moaned, much louder than she anticipated. His hips bucked shallowly and she gave another quick tug.

"Gods, Granger, slower. Are you trying to kill me?" His chest was heaving and his voice was strained. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. The sight of him in such a state… Merlin, it was delightful.

Hermione ducked her head to hide her smile. "Sorry," she mumbled, and he huffed at her insincerity.

She lightened her grip and gently withdrew his cock. It sprang from his trousers and she gasped at the sight. He was so much bigger than she thought. The head of his cock was peeking out from the slit in his boxers and he had already made quite the mess.

He leaked into his underwear and the tip of his dick was glistening with precum. Before she could stop herself, Hermione leaned forward and caught a dribbling bead of his arousal with the tip of her tongue. Sweet and fresh and the slightest bit salty.

"Oh my—fuck…" he groaned, long and drawn out as she swirled her tongue slowly around the crown to clean him up, but by the time she had pulled away and pushed the fabric of his boxers down to the base of his cock, he was already leaking again—this time right onto his pinstripe trousers.

Her eyes cast up to his face, but Draco hadn't even noticed. His eyes were squeezed tight and he was panting heavily. She licked him once more, and he choked on his breath.

"Granger," he warned, giving her a sharp, nasty look, "you're being a naughty, little tease. Now, put my cock in your mouth, or I'll shove it down your throat myself."

Hermione didn't balk at his threat. She actually quite enjoyed hearing him talk like that…

She leaned forward and pressed her tongue flat against the base of his erection, licking upward in one slow, leisurely motion. She watched his mouth silently drop open, caught his hands fist at his sides. She swept up the underside of his cock and flicked beneath the tip before swirling her tongue back down. His cock twitched against her cheek, smearing his precum all over her face. When she looked back up, he was quietly whimpering as he stared at where his dick was pressed against her lips. She smiled innocently up at him before finally taking him in her mouth.

"Salazar," he murmured, his breath hitching as she slid down the length of his cock, "you look… fuck, so beautiful sucking on my cock." His voice broke into a moan as she sealed her lips in a perfect O and started to suck.

His hips lifted up from the chair and he thrust up into her mouth. Her hands braced themselves on his thighs as his hand landed on the back of her head. He pushed her down further, until her face was buried in the soft fabric of his boxers—until the cool metal of his belt buckle pressed against the bridge of her nose and dug into her skin. Her fingers tightened on his trembling thighs and she let out a muffled gasp as his cock hit the very back of her throat. He slid as far down as he could fit. She gurgled again before his hand lifted her back up. His dick fell out of her mouth with a wet little pop, and Hermione sat back, desperately trying to catch her breath. For a few prolonged seconds, they both stared at each other. The air between them was charged. It crackled at her skin and sparked in her core.

He called her beautiful for the fifth time, and when she swallowed his cock again, she swore he said it a sixth.

"D-do you really think?" she asked shyly the next time she paused to catch her breath. She wiped the spit from her chin and stared at the floor.

Draco nodded his head and guided her back between his hips. He nudged his cock against her lips and she graciously accepted. She hollowed out her cheeks and he raked through her hair. "I don't think, Granger," he moaned, working her steadily on and off his cock, "I know. Most beautiful witch I've ever—fuck, yes—ever seen in my life. Ah… "

He eased his grip, but she didn't pull off. Those words were edging her on, making her own hips roll against nothing. She moaned and she felt his body go rigid beneath her touch. His legs drew in slightly, like he was curling his toes, and he squeezed her tighter between his thighs. She moaned again to see how he'd react—and his hips started thrusting, but he was hitting the back of her throat with nowhere else to go. She gagged and he groaned. Sloppy, wet sounds filled the air.

"Gods, you're so fucking—" he gasped for breath and gripped onto his chair, "so fucking good at this." His eyes rolled back and he suddenly pulled her off, harder than she expected.

Hermione fell back onto her hands and gasped for air. Her hair was a mess from the way he was tugging on it and there were tears in her eyes from fighting not to gag. Before her, his cock was still hard and twitching, coated in her spit, dripping all over his trousers.

"What are you—"

"Take off your blouse. I want to see if your nipples are as pretty as I've always imagined."

When she took too long to respond, he reached for her shirt. He tugged it out of the waistband of her skirt and deftly started working at the shiny little buttons. When her shirt fell open, he stilled at the sight. Her bra was sheer and made of lace, and he seemed to approve of her choice. Hermione watched as his eyes traveled slowly across her chest. He traced a circle around her nipple and she shivered as it hardened and grazed against the fabric.

"All dressed up?" He asked, running his fingers along the delicate little straps and extra tendrils of lace.

It was a fancy little bra, in fact, it belonged to the nicest set she'd ever owned. Simple and nude in color, but still, her favorite.

"Yes," she confessed, not quite meeting his eye. She moaned as his finger trailed up her sternum before he dipped into the cup of her bra. He pushed down the lace and freed her breast from the fabric, wetting his lips before he repeated the motion on the other side. He stared at her chest for what felt like an eternity. Her cheeks started to heat and she choked out the first thing that came to mind. "Exceeds expectations?"

The laugh he gave made her legs turn to jelly. He shook his head sternly and palmed her breast.

"Outstanding, Miss Granger. Positively outstanding," he admitted, and she moaned again at the way he said it—breathlessly. Honestly.

He rolled her nipple between her fingers and her back arched into his touch. A needy whine escaped from the back of her throat and he tweaked her nipple harder. Her hand gripped his knee to keep herself upright. Her knees parted slightly and she slipped one hand beneath her rucked up skirt. She starting rolling against her hand. Her breasts were swaying as she moved and if she had opened her eyes, she would have been able to see Draco staring at her chest with his jaw slack.

"Come here, I need you."

He grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her back in. He gave himself a few slow pumps before he held the back of her head and pressed his cock against her lips. He watched in awe as she lifted her arse from her heels, drew herself tall on her knees, and swallowed him whole. This time, it was easier. This time, he was louder.

Her hands settled again, one on each thigh, and Draco combed back her hair. There were no gentle swirls and she didn't linger at the tip. Instead she sucked on his shaft and slid his cock slowly down her throat. She peered up at him and watched as his eyes glazed over. His cheeks turned pink.

The head of his cock hit the back of her throat and she took him further than before. Further than she thought possible, until her lips wrapped around the base of his dick. She was practically suckling on the fabric of his suit and she didn't mind in the slightest. She tried to moan, but it was muffled. She tried to breathe and she choked. And when she tried to lift her head, his hand wouldn't allow it.

"Ah, gods... That's it, Granger," he ground out, biting back a deep, hungry moan. "I know you can take it. Show me how you fit my cock down your throat," he grunted, fingers tightening in her hair and forcing himself deeper. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—that's it. Right there." His words were slurring in his daze, his hips started to rock against her face, and his control started to slip.

He only let her up for a breath when she rapped her fingers against his thighs, and even then, he couldn't wait more than a few seconds before pulling her back in. He picked up his speed and began fucking her face. His moans turned feral and his movements were frenzied, but he kept looking into her eyes to make sure she was okay.

And when her knees started to tremble and give out beneath her, he lowered her arse to the ground and angled his hips to meet her face. With one hand cradling her neck and the other braced on the surface of his desk, he leaned forward and pumped down into her mouth. His hips jerked against her and his fingers tangled into her hair. Faster, harder. He fucked her throat at an unrelenting tempo with long, hard strokes that had him throbbing in her throat. She was practically dripping onto the floor with the sounds he was making. He needed her, and it sounded so damn good.

She blinked up at him through her wet, teary eyes. He was coming undone and it was a glorious sight.

His collar was ripped open and she could see a hint of his pale, slick chest. His black button down was wrinkled, his suit jacket was crumpled, and she had ruined the crease pressed down the front of his trousers from the way she had been groping his thighs.

His mouth was opening and closing, but all that came out were short little babbles and incoherent moans.

"Hermione—yes—so fucking… ah … good. Beautiful and so good and—oh fuck. "

He was driving into her mouth, but he was writhing and panting and completely at her mercy. Her skin tingled at the thought. She sucked even harder. And suddenly, his body started to shake and his head tilted back in ecstasy. She could feel the underside of his shaft pulsing along the length of her tongue, the head of his cock swelling in her throat.

"Fuck—"

His fingers loosened in her hair and his moan echoed through the room. Hot ribbons of cum spurted across her tongue and started to slip down the back of her throat. She tried and tried, but no matter how fast she swallowed, she couldn't keep up. Rivulets of his cum were escaping through her lips, dribbling down his shaft and seeping into his suit.

His chair creaked as he rode out the last few waves and she gently sucked on his cock until his body went limp. He slumped back into his seat and his dick slipped out of her mouth. It was a beautiful sight: his still-swollen cock coated in a mixture of his cum and her spit, twitching and pulsing as he came back down. A stray drop of his seed dripped from her lips and landed on his lap, leaving another little wet spot on that immaculate black fabric. She stared at the mess and absentmindedly wiped her mouth.

"That was…" he gasped, unable to find the right words, "you are… brilliant."

His breathing was heavy as he stroked her hair.

She closed her eyes tight, and pulled away.

He collapsed back into his chair and caught his breath. His legs were tingling and his arms were numb, but he couldn't let her go.

He loved her hair when it was down like this and he loved the way it had frizzed from his fervent touch. The effect that she had on him, it was fucking unreal. He raked his hands along her scalp, jabbering like a fool as she wilted between his legs.

He didn't even know what he was trying to say, but she wasn't listening anyway. She was staring off into nothing.

Maybe he had been selfish. Maybe he should have fucked her instead. Gods, she deserved it. She really, truly did. She'd been so fucking perfect. And if her mouth felt that good, he could only imagine how heavenly it'd feel to fuck her needy little cunt.

He watched as she wiped the corner of her mouth and sucked her finger clean. He closed his eyes and groaned in agony. She wasn't even trying to be sexy, she was sitting there, staring at him like she couldn't believe what she'd done—like she almost regretted it. And maybe she should have.

His cock was twitching at the sight of her wrecked expression. He'd be fully hard again in no time at all.

It was fucked.

This entire night, fucked.

The least he could do was make one thing right. He reached back out and helped her to her feet. She refused to look into his eyes, but she remained standing between his legs as he sat in his chair.

He reached for her hip, and she let him grab her. His hand fisted the fabric of her skirt and tugged it up, rougher than he intended. His other hand caught her as she swayed. He swallowed as the tops of her thighs appeared before him. Tanned and glowing and about to be straddled around his leg. His suit was already crumpled, already in desperate need for a dry-cleaning—she could drip all over him, ride his fucking thigh until she creamed, it'd hardly make a difference now, he reasoned. He needed to make her feel good—make her feel better than she ever had before.

His hands snaked underneath her skirt and hooked around the band of her knickers. They were soft and lacy, probably sheer, too. It was a shame, he thought, that he wouldn't see her wearing them. He started to tug them down, but her hands landed on his forearms and she shook her head, still unable to meet his eye. He dropped his hands from her hips and frowned as she buttoned her blouse. The haziness in her eyes had cleared and she stepped away. For good this time.

She cleared her throat and glowered at him.

"So, what did you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked defensively, setting her shoulders and drawing herself up as tall as she could. Which… wasn't tall at all, and she looked bloody ridiculous trying to pull that on him. She cocked her hip and threw her hand out. "Go on… I'm waiting," she prodded.

He stared at her for a long moment and sighed. "Hermione, don't be like this—"

"Just tell me what you want," she spat at him with her eyes closed tight.

Her words sank into his chest and stabbed at his heart. He was a bloody imbecile—believing for a second that she wanted him too. She swayed again between his knees and Draco fought the urge to steady her.

"Why don't you take a look," he said cooly, flicking his wand blindly behind him.

The door to his office slowly creaked open, and Hermione craned her neck to peer inside. He knew the second she spotted it. He watched her eyes go wide and her face fall flat. She blinked, and he swore he saw her world shatter. It was sick—disgusting, really—the way that look made him feel such immense satisfaction.

"They delivered to the wrong office," he said with a shrug. He pushed himself to his feet and so easily towered over her. He rubbed his jaw and tapped his wand against his thigh with a humorless chuckle. "Beautiful flowers, I'll admit, but Granger… If I may give you a piece of advice?"

She stared at him, half in shock, half riddled with guilt. He waved his wand and the bouquet lifted from the table and floated towards her effortlessly. She reluctantly opened her arms and retrieved the vase from midair.

Draco swiped the bottle of liquor from his desk and started up the steps to his personal quarters. When he reached the the landing, he paused to look down at her one last time. "Choose a man who wants to actually spend time with you on your anniversary."

He walked into his bedchambers and left the door ajar.