"Draco? I'm sorry," Hermione apologises, putting down her quill and greeting her friend with a smile. "Did I forget an appointment? I was sure I didn't have anything else in the diary this afternoon?"
The man in question smiles back and enters her office, closing the door behind him.
"No, I don't have an appointment." Draco shrugs sheepishly, taking a seat at the desk. "I was hoping you might have a moment to talk?"
Hermione glances at the clock, happy to note there is only half an hour left of her official work day. Decision made, she summons two glasses and her secret bottle of firewhisky, pouring them both a glass and pushing one closer to Draco.
"Of course," she reassures him, holding up her glass and clinking it against his. "Why do I get the feeling that this is not a social visit?"
He smiles shyly. "You know I'm always happy to see you, but yes, I had something I wanted to discuss."
"Ok, go on," she encourages, sitting back in her chair. "What is it?"
"You're a muggleborn witch."
"You noticed? Huh. I really thought I was blending in with the purebloods." Hermione giggles. "Yes, I'm a muggleborn. What of it?"
"Well, you know. You know, like, muggle places, don't you? Like… um… er, places where you might go out for a meal. Good places," Draco stammers out, looking at his glass with great interest, lazily swirling the contents around.
Hermione notes the pink tinge to his face, creeping up to the tips of his ears.
"As I live and breathe," she starts dramatically. "Draco Malfoy, are you asking me out on a date?"
"What?! No!" Draco meets her eyes then and she grins evilly when he slumps back in his chair, realising that she is joking.
"Let me guess, you finally decided to ask Harry on a date and you want to know where to take him?"
Draco's eyes widen comically. "How did you know?"
"Are you for real? Everyone has known for years that you two were hot for each other. You don't know how close we've come to locking you in a room with only one bed for a week until you both finally come to your senses. You know, like a fanfiction trope. It never fails."
"Fanfiction? Trope? Uh, what?"
Hermione shakes her head. Apparently, fanfiction hasn't made it to the wizarding world yet. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. So, you're going to ask him out?"
"Maybe. He might not be interested. He dated Ginny, remember?" Draco reminds her defeatedly.
"Well, so what? You dated Pansy and Astoria."
"So you think there's hope then?"
"You are so blind sometimes, Draco. Of course, there's hope. He's been trying to find a way to ask you out for months."
Draco sits back and a more genuine smile appears on his face as he relaxes his shoulders. "I was thinking of taking him out to dinner and then maybe inviting him back to mine for a few drinks. What do you think?"
"Perfect. I know just the restaurant to book. Just let me know when and I'll organise it for you."
"Thanks, Hermione." Draco sits forwards suddenly and levels her with a gaze.
"What? Was there something else?" Hermione asks curiously at the look of determination that passes across her friend's face.
"Yes. My mother."
Hermione wrinkles her brow. The woman in question is one of her best friends apart from the man sitting in front of her. It's unusual for Draco to discuss his mother with her, given his slight bemusement at their friendship.
"Oh. Is she ok?"
Draco takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, picking up his glass and draining half the contents before speaking.
"She's fine, don't worry. She could be better than fine, though, and we both know how."
Hermione curses inwardly when the telltale blush spreads across her cheeks and heats her face. She picks up the bottle and refills both their glasses just to have something to do; a way of distracting him from his observation, but he doesn't falter. Faced with his knowing smile, she groans, hiding her face in her hands.
Draco laughs. "You know, it really is ok. If you're worried about me, then don't be. I might not understand it, but it's obvious that you really care about each other."
"Draco, it's not what you… she doesn't… she would never-"
"Hermione, she feels the same way you do. Open yourself up and trust your instincts."
"It's not that easy. What If I'm wrong?" Hermione asks shakily. "I don't know what I would do if I were to lose her."
"What if you're right?" Draco grins when Hermione rolls her eyes. "Can I start calling you Mum?"
Hermione can't help the laughter that bubbles up inside of her. "Don't you dare!"
"Talk to Mother. Try and channel some of that Gryffindor courage," he teases.
"Oh, because it's so easy to find out how a Slytherin feels about anything?" Hermione shakes her head. "If this goes wrong, I'm hexing you."
"It won't," the blonde promises her confidently.
"You'll be spitting slugs for a week," Hermione mutters as Draco stands up, and heads to the door.
"Later, Mum," he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the corridor, laughing when Hermione throws a roll of parchment at him.
Baffled at the turn of events, she tries to put her feelings for Narcissa out of her mind and instead concentrates on the task at hand. If Draco is right then she needs to take a chance, so she takes a small piece of parchment and a quill, and writes a brief memo.
Narcissa,
Drinks at mine, later? I'll cook.
Hermione x
With a flick of her hand in an effortless display of wandless, non-verbal magic, she sends the memo to another office within the Department of Mysteries, just two doors down in the same hallway. She sits for a moment not bothering to continue working, knowing full well that the response won't take long. Sure enough, it's less than half a minute later that a memo lands on her desk.
H,
Lasagne?
N xx
Hermione laughs to herself. She can almost hear the hope in Narcissa's voice and see that little spark in her eye. Ever since she introduced her to muggle cooking, the woman has been obsessed with all things Italian. Lasagne is her absolute favourite dish, much to Hermione's amusement; there is nothing quite like watching Madam Black wolf down the cheesy garlic bread that she always makes, licking her fingers afterwards in a way that makes Hermione burn inside.
Hmmm…
Maybe. If you've been good today…
H xxx
She sends the reply straight back with a grin on her face and starts counting down from 10. She only gets down to 'two' before the door to her office opens and Narcissa saunters in.
"Oh, I promise you I've been on my best behaviour today, Hermione," she almost purrs in place of a greeting. "Are you going to reward me for being a good girl?" the blonde asks, putting her hands on the desk and leaning forwards. She smirks when Hermione's eyes dip down to the ample cleavage that she has on display, the cut of her dress revealing far more flesh than the younger woman is used to seeing.
"Oh god, you can't talk like that!" Hermione splutters, pushing her chair back from the desk slightly and putting some distance between them.
Narcissa smiles smugly and stands up again, looking thoroughly pleased with Hermione's reaction. Her posture is always excellent but Hermione swears she is pushing her chest out more than is strictly necessary, as if the sinfully tight black dress she is wearing doesn't emphasise her attributes more than enough.
"My eyes are up here," she helpfully reminds the flustered brunette in front of her.
Hermione flicks her eyes up guiltily. "I'm sorry, it's just… you're just… that dress…" she trails off helplessly; all articulate thoughts had left her head the moment the other woman walked in. Her crush is getting out of control and what's worse is that Narcissa takes full advantage of it whenever she can.
"I wore it for you," Narcissa confesses casually, examining the nails on her hand. "I thought you'd like it."
"You wore… you… for me?" Hermione shakes her head, trying to clear her ears. The blonde didn't just say that, did she?
"Well? Do you?" Narcissa probes, sitting down at the desk. She crosses one toned, elegant leg over the other, revealing a strong, pale thigh through a slit that had previously gone unnoticed. Hermione can see the lacy top of thigh-high stockings, and where they are attached to a suspender belt. This witch is going to be the death of her.
Hermione blushes again and cringes, mentally scolding her body for giving her away. "You look nice. Very nice, actually."
"Nice?" the woman in front of her repeats, a dramatic gasp escaping her lips as she brings a hand up and places it over her heart. "Just… nice?" she asks, a pout forming on her face.
Hermione has the nearly uncontrollable desire to grab the woman and kiss her senseless, but instead, she looks her straight in the eye, trying to stop the grin that threatens to break out on her face.
"Almost good enough to eat, Narcissa."
Hermione laughs when the woman in front of her opens her mouth in shock and just stares back at her. Narcissa finally shakes her head fondly and then smiles warmly.
"We'll call that a draw, darling. Well played."
"You're going to regret starting this game with me one day," Hermione warns, standing up and taking her coat off of the hook behind her. Narcissa just laughs and stands up, walking over to the door and waiting patiently for the other woman to put her jacket on and join her.
Hermione sighs quietly. Narcissa likes to joke. She flirts, teases, touches and plays almost constantly when they are alone together. She is more than aware of the effect that she has on Hermione and never fails to take advantage of it. In fact, there is nothing the woman appears to enjoy more than leaving Hermione breathless and spluttering for words. There are moments when the younger woman feels like she gets the upper hand, but Narcissa is either very good at hiding her feelings, or those feelings don't exist.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione makes a decision. Tonight she will be every bit as brave as Godric himself. One way or another, she will get the answers that she so desperately needs. If their friendship is as strong as she thinks it is, then it will overcome her almost inevitable rejection. Won't it?
She follows Narcissa out of the room, and they chat about their day all the way to the floos before disappearing into green flames and reappearing in Hermione's flat.
xXx
Narcissa frowns when she sees the obvious nerves that Hermione is trying to hide, as she stands there looking uncomfortable and fidgeting with the cuff on her jacket.
"Are you ok?" she asks, taking the other woman's hand to get her attention, startling her slightly.
The brunette smiles at her. "I'm fine. Sorry, it's just been a busy day. I'm going to go and change, can you pour the wine? There is an open bottle of white in the fridge or a Merlot on the wine rack."
"We'll start with white," Narcissa replies, already heading towards the cupboard with the glasses, leaving the other woman to disappear into her bedroom to change. They've done this many times before and she knows how much Hermione likes to put on yoga pants when she gets home to relax. It's not something the blonde would ever consider wearing but she has a special weakness for seeing the brunette dressed so casually.
Hermione always looks smart and well put together in the office, giving off a natural air of authority unusual for someone her age. At evening events the woman wears cocktail dresses that leave nothing to the imagination; the fabric clinging to her body like a second skin and making Narcissa tingle with appreciation.
Dressed at home though, in yoga pants and a t-shirt that has usually seen better days, she is adorable. Just the right combination of sweet and sexy, it makes Narcissa dream of lazy Sunday mornings, fighting over the paper, and eating toast with jam in bed. Sleepy morning kisses and laying in each other's arms, surrounded by the scent of the woman that she's come to love, are the things that take over her mind whenever she has the privilege of seeing the younger women like this.
She opens the fridge and locates the wine on autopilot before taking two glasses down from the cupboard, pouring them both to the rim. She takes their drinks across the open plan space into the living area, all the while pondering on what her son had told her that very afternoon. She's been aware of her feelings for Hermione for months, but it was still a shock to find out that Draco has picked up on them. Even more surprising, he is happy for her to pursue the woman that has become such an unexpected friend to them both.
"You know, you could just ask her out, Mother."
Narcissa shakes her head. "She doesn't feel the same way, Draco. She's still my boss, a job she gave me out of pity, not love. She wouldn't want to be with someone like me. You're forgetting our history, sweetheart."
"She gave you a chance when no one else would. She already saw something in you that she thought was worth it."
"She's my boss…" Narcissa trails off, running out of steam.
"No. She was your boss when she employed you as her assistant. The job you have now, you earned. You're equals."
"Draco, darling. I appreciate the support, but she just doesn't feel that way about me."
Her son had groaned then and leant forwards dropping his forehead onto the oak desk in her office. "You two are as bad as each other. Trust me, Mother. Hermione has feelings for you. What do you have to lose?"
"My only friend," she deadpans.
"Just promise me you'll try. Just try looking at her with your eyes wide open and you'll see the same things that everyone else does."
Narcissa still isn't sure how he managed to drag a promise out of her that she would try, but here she is, standing in the young witch's flat, wondering what her next move should be.
He was sure, adamant in fact, that Hermione feels the same way, but what if he is wrong? There is so much at stake if her feelings aren't returned and the thought of losing the only real friend she's ever had leaves her feeling cold. If only there was a sure, clear sign. Something, anything, that would tell her whether or not Hermione returns her feelings.
Soft footsteps pad back into the room and she turns around, freezing in shock when she sees what the brunette is wearing.
"Sorry, all my yoga pants are in the wash," Hermione explains, not quite meeting the older woman's eyes as she gestures to the extremely short pyjama shorts she is wearing. "I just wanted to be comfortable."
Narcissa's mouth goes dry when she examines the long legs on display, toned and perfect, ending in bare feet with red toenails. She drags her gaze back up and then her eyes hit a small expanse of a well-defined stomach between the low-rise shorts and the bottom of the vest top she is wearing.
"My eyes are up here," Hermione taunts with a smirk, parroting Narcissa's words from earlier back at her.
Narcissa grins then, knowing what game Hermione is attempting to play.
"You look… well, those shorts…" she plays along.
"I wore them for you, Narcissa. I thought you'd like them."
"You look… nice."
Hermione pouts, right on cue, and Narcissa laughs predicting her next words.
"Only nice?" the young brunette muses.
"Good enough to eat," Narcissa completes, taking a step forward. It's now or never, she thinks, gathering her courage. She reaches forward, hands settling on the woman's hips as she backs her against the living room wall.
"Is this what you want, Miss Granger?" Narcissa whispers in her ear, her breath hot, making Hermione shiver involuntarily. "Do you want me to devour you? Do you want my mouth? Do you want me to explore your perfect, tight, body with my lips? My teeth? My tongue…"
Hermione whimpers and reaches up, circling her arms around the older witch's neck, twining the fingers of her left hand into long blonde hair.
"Kiss me."
"As you wish." Narcissa pulls back slightly to look into her eyes, silently checking in and Hermione nods almost imperceptibly.
xXx
Hermione closes her eyes as soft lips brush experimentally against hers. This tentative touch is not what she was expecting from the normally confident Ms Black. She presses her lips a little more firmly against the other witch's, pulling her flush against her body. Her skin erupts into goosebumps as slender fingers find their way under her vest top, dancing over her ribs.
She's not sure which one of them opens their lips first but she is greeted by a tongue and her passion for the blonde witch in her arms ignites. Without thinking, she flips their positions, giggling when Narcissa squeaks with surprise, as she is backed against the wall. The woman is flushed and breathing heavily, with eyes so dark that only a tiny rim of pale blue can be seen around dilated pupils.
"Did you want dinner now?" she asks innocently.
"Hermione Granger, if you think you are going to keep me waiting a minute longer after all these months of… of…"
"Of what?" Hermione asks coyly, pushing their hips together and grinding against the older witch deliciously.
"I have flirted with you endlessly and not once have I been sure of how you really feel."
Hermione laughs, and when the woman pouts she can't help but laugh more. "Me? You are the most difficult person to read that I have ever met!"
"You're a Gryffindor!" Narcissa utters disbelievingly. "I thought that if you wanted me, then you would… well… you would just take me."
"I thought Slytherins were meant to be single-minded in going after the things that they want?" Hermione counters with a grin, when the other woman rolls her eyes.
"Draco called me a 'hopeless lesbian' today," Narcissa confesses with a chuckle. "I think I'm beginning to see what he was talking about."
"Draco came to see you, too?"
Narcissa pulls the other woman against her, arms tightening around her waist. "He had some advice for me, actually. I came here tonight determined to discover once and for all how you felt about me."
Hermione giggles, taking the blonde's hand and placing it at the front of her hip, where the material of her shorts is barely covering what they should be hiding. "Why do you think I wore these? I wanted to see if I could affect you as much as you affect me."
Narcissa blushes, slipping her fingers up underneath the hem of the shorts and stroking the bare soft skin underneath; underwear noticeably missing. "I said you look nice but that's not entirely true."
Hermione's face falls, but Narcissa drops a kiss onto her lips. "I should have said that you look divine. I should have told you that seeing you in these made me want to rip them from your body and take my sample of what I know lies beneath. I should have told you just how fuckable you look in them, darling."
Hermione shudders. "You can't say things like that and then not act on it," she whines pathetically, winding her arms back around the blonde's neck.
"Who said I wasn't going to act on it?" Narcissa asks, raising an eyebrow. Without warning, the older woman Disapparates and deposits them both gently in the brunette's bedroom. She wastes no time in capturing Hermione's lips, kissing her fiercely as the younger woman lets out a soft moan when their tongues meet. It's slow and sensual but it's everything that Hermione has ever wanted a kiss to be. Right then, she knows that she will never want to kiss anyone else ever again. The witch in front of her has completely ruined her.
"Take me to bed, Narcissa. Please," Hermione all but pleads, legs shaking as she struggles to remain upright.
The woman doesn't answer but meets her gaze, as agile fingers grasp the bottom of her vest top and slowly drag the fabric upwards over her head, throwing it onto the chair in the corner.
"You are so perfect, darling," she reassures the younger witch, seeing the slight discomfort in her younger lover's eyes.
"You next," Hermione breathes, signalling for the blonde to turn around. Shaky hands undo the button and slowly pull the zip down, revealing inch by inch of flawless skin that she can't help but place gentle kisses on; soft lips pressing as a hot tongue darts out to taste the flesh on offer. The dress falls to the ground and Narcissa steps out of it, leaving her heels and the dress where they are as she moves closer to the bed, sitting on the edge and beckoning the other woman over with a curl of her finger.
Hermione watches the slightly glazed look in the older woman's eyes with amazement, and a rush of confidence comes over her. She walks over to the bed, coming to stand in front of her. She spends a moment appreciating the art that she has on display; framed exquisitely in matching black lace bra, thong, suspender belt and stockings. She licks her lips, momentarily unable to speak. This beautiful woman really wants her? Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she shakes off her brief moment of doubt.
"Much as I like to unwrap my presents, I want you naked. I have dreamed about this for far too long to waste any more time."
Narcissa grins, more than happy to comply, and with a quick flick of her hand she removes their remaining clothes. Hermione shivers as the rest of her skin is revealed to the cool air of her bedroom. She pushes the blonde backwards, waiting for her to settle on the pillows behind her, determined to rid the woman of that infuriating smirk. She lowers her body flush against the older witch's, sinking into a deep kiss.
xXx
When Narcissa wakes the next morning, she appraises all the pleasant aches in her muscles, a small smile appearing when she recollects the night before. To say that Hermione had taken her by surprise would be an understatement. Gone was the slightly shy and sometimes bashful woman she has been flirting with for the last few months. In her place was someone confident, who knew exactly how to pleasure her. Hermione's nimble fingers and deft tongue had teased her to the point of insanity until finally granting her the first of many releases.
The warm body half beneath her stirs slightly as arms tighten their grip, pulling her closer until there is no space left between them.
"Love you, Cissa," Hermione mumbles sleepily, and the blonde opens her eyes more fully, staring at the brunette in shock. The woman in question opens her eyes and gazes back, eyes brimming with affection, and even if Narcissa hadn't heard the words, it would be obvious just what the younger witch is feeling.
"I love you too, darling," Narcissa replies, laying her head back down with a contented sigh.
"I know," Hermione murmurs, eyes already closing and consciousness fading quickly. "Sleep now."
Narcissa closes her eyes and does exactly that, a smile on her face even as she slips quietly into the world of her dreams.
xXx
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