It had been eight years.
Eight years of waking up each morning to see a vile scar on her left arm as she came into the new day.
Hermione was well beyond letting it define her. The war was over, and they had won. It did not matter what names they called her back then. They lost.
Even so, she detested those etched words.
Mudblood
After all this time, the words carved into her still looked raw, and she wanted nothing more than to let it go.
Finally, after eight bloody years, there was hope.
"Ms. Granger…"
Hermione's face jerked up, too eagerly, to her name being called. Her bobbing knee halted in it's tracks.
"Healer Simone is ready to see you."
Standing from the highly uncomfortable, black plastic waiting room chair, Hermione brushed down her pencil skirt, picked up her overlarge black purse which nearly toppled with a random assortment of papers that had been stuffed in haphazardly as she rushed out of the office that day, and made her way to the doorway.
The message from Healer Simone came out of the blue, really. It had been months since the last possible lead came through that gave her hope that she could one day be without the constant reminder of being tortured to near death by a madwoman.
Her assistant, Janice, had handed her a note towards the end of the weekly meeting Hermione ran for the department heads at the Ministry. It was her responsibility as Under Secretary to the Minister to ensure accountability throughout all organizations.
Generally, the meeting was a terrible bore.
Opening the note discreetly at the table, her body jolted to attention as she read the print.
Specialized healer in Brighton heard of your efforts to remove cursed scar. May have a solution. Can meet later today.
Normally poised to perfection during any Ministry comings and goings, Hermione felt properly disjointed sitting at the head of an overlarge, oval table that sat in the Ministries largest conference room.
The only one at the table that even noticed her change was Malfoy.
Why did it always have to be Malfoy of all people to pick up on the little things that drove her to insecurity?
The now fully grown Slytherin sat two seats to her left, his chin turned just enough to have seen Hermione's reaction to the note. When she caught him watching her, their eyes connected.
It was a knee jerk reaction to sneer whenever Malfoy looked her way. Though, in the past few years, the sneer was only the reaction, but the continued glare between the two almost always morphed to something that boarded onto playful.
Her and him were the only two remotely 'young' heads of department at the ministry, and by default, meant they gravitated towards one another in large meetings such as these.
A perfect brow rose indiscreetly from Malfoy's face to question her response to the parchment. Hermione turned her nose up, just a bit, as if to say, 'wouldn't you like to know?'
As had tended to happen in the past few years, when Malfoy smirked at her, something like a jolt shot through her chest.
He was honestly too damn handsome for his own good, Hermione thought with a flurry of heat rushing around haphazardly within her.
And it didn't help that the two had, mistakenly really, and only once - plus it wasn't even for that long, snogged at a Ministry function two years prior.
Hermione dragged her attention back to Folmouth who was giving an update on the recent scandal plaguing his office. Apparently, his team did not care for working 14 hour days in preparation for the Quidditch World Cup. Shocking, Hermione thought with a judgemental, internal voice.
Her eyes flickered back to Malfoy's, which were still looking at her.
How was he so indiscreet with his stare? He had a way about him when he wanted an answer from her, and currently he seemed fascinated by the note she was delivered.
Driving a huff of air from her lungs (which did garner a stare from Wilson to her left), Hermione laid a hand on her wand that was positioned next to her papers, and directed a message charm to a blank piece of parchment in front of Malfoy.
He had known about her determination to remove the horrid scar from her arm. Even if they would always be, in a way, sworn enemies, the two had been at least friendly over the past few years.
His transformation after the war was by and large astounding. With a big part played by Harry, Malfoy and his mother were cleared of all charges. Almost immediately, the only Malfoy son took to setting his family name straight by going on to finish his schooling at advanced academies across Europe. When he returned, he was still a prat, but humbled, and willing to work his way up the ladder.
Malfoy had been the second youngest department head in the Ministries history. Second to only herself. Since then she had been promoted to Under Secretary (also youngest in history).
Hermione peered over to him as he read the note. His brows drew up in a very un-Malfoy like manner. He was not one to express emotions very freely. But he looked genuinely surprised.
Instead of returning a message, or shooting her a haughty glare, he turned his attention to Folmouth, who had gone onto say that his solution to his distressed team's burn out, was longer hours.
It shouldn't have bothered Hermione that Malfoy did not return a response. It was only Malfoy.
Who she had kissed. Only once! And they were both drunk. And her and Ron had just gone through a very public breakup that the Daily Prophet would not stop talking about.
And Malfoy was physically perfect as he always was that night, irresistible really; wearing tailored robes that accentuated his broad build and height, with the color so shockingly black that getting a glimpse of his perfectly swept back platinum blonde hair nearly blinded onlookers.
Hermione turned back to the table, taking a stiff breath.
Malfoy didn't matter to her, she lied. What mattered was there was hope at finally freeing herself from the constant reminder of something hideous.
When the meeting wrapped up, Hermione was a whirl of papers and direct commands to those around the table that seemed to not have come prepared to this weeks meeting.
Before she knew it, she was into a floo to Brighton, and sitting in the waiting room of a rather small Healer's facility just outside the sea side town.
Having shuffled herself to a small treatment room, she set her items down near the chair she took up residence in, and began to bob her knee methodically once more.
A throb passed across the writings of her scar. It felt like a good sign. Like the thing knew it's time was up.
"Ms. Granger! What a delight!"
Hermione's attention whipped over her shoulder to the door to see a middle-aged, quite handsome looking healer step through the doors who immediately plopped down onto a stool with wheels.
"Healer Simone," Hermione stood up uncomfortably, extending out a hand, not quite sure the way to greet the person who just entered the room.
Healer Simone waved away her hand playfully. "Nah, none of that! Take a seat, lets take a look at the thing."
Prickly red heat nipped at Hermione's neck. It was nerves. Any time she'd roll up a sleeve to show the beastly thing, she'd feel a slight panic coming on.
Merlin she hoped this Healer could do something about it.
Once her sleeve was rolled back, Healer Simone rolled over to where she sat and took hold of her slender forearm.
"That is nasty. Cursed blade?" he asked as if the subject matter was as banal as the daily weather.
"Yes, that is at least what the Malfoys confirmed in their testimony." Hermione answered, gulping slightly at the memory.
Draco and Narcissa were more than cooperative in every investigation that took place following the Second Wizard War. Each willingly complied with a series of legimmens used to piece together all the events that took place within the Death Eaters inner circle.
Healer Simone pulled out his wand and commenced some type of diagnostic scan over Hermione's scarred forearm. Brief flashes of orange and yellow light would sprout up from the scar, then disintegrate into the air.
It wasn't uncommon. This was the eleventh specialist Hermione had seen. Each had done something to this effect.
Then, a blue orb lingered over her forearm, just a heartbeat longer than the rest of the signals. Healer Simone flashed a triumphant grin.
"Thought so." he said to himself, looking to create intrigue.
"What!" Hermione just about leapt to her feet. The Healer basked in the tension he built for a moment longer before giving in.
"Were you aware that there was a counter curse placed on this cut?"
Hermione's body reeled back into her chair.
"No, that's not possible."
The Healer stood and waltzed over to his tiny standing desk, and then back to Hermione with a pamphlet.
The Lasting Effects of Counter Curses
"It's a newish theory, just a little over three years since it has been published. When a counter curse is done to anything that alters the body, like a cut in this case, the counter curse binds itself to the victim."
Healer Simone went on, casting the diagnostic that produced a blue orb once more.
"This is the signature of the caster who performed the counter curse."
Hermione stared at the nondescript blue orb for anything that felt like a trace of familiarity. But it was no more than light and slight wisps of smoke.
"I don't understand," Hermione finally spoke out, breaking her trance. "Why would there be a counter curse?"
Healer Simone briefly looked at Hermione as if he was disappointed in her ability to connect the dots, what with being a famously talented witch. He replaced it with something more understanding.
"Ms. Granger, the blade was likely infused with materials that would have killed you. Whoever cast the counter curse, saved your life."
The room shifted once in front of her from a dizzying blast of overwhelmed shock. This couldn't be. How could this be?
After giving Hermione a moment with her thoughts, the healer went on.
"To remove this scar, we need to identify the signature of who cast the spell. Ideally, we would incorporate them in the removal process, but if they are unwilling, which would be odd given that they saved your life, then at least knowing who it was can give us a lead into what options we have."
Hermione's mind drifted far away, back to that drawing room at Malfoy Manor. Her vision was all but eliminated once the torturing begun. Nothing but Bellatrix occupied her vision.
She never wanted to go back into that memory, but for the first time since it happened, perhaps there was something to uncover.
But the fact of the matter was, this made absolutely no sense. There wasn't a soul alive in the room while Hermione was being tortured that would have had any reason to intervene. Not to mention, both Malfoys that had been legimmens for testimony made no indication of such a thing happening in the room….
It struck her then, in a nervous sort of way, that the youngest Malfoy, her co-worker in a sense, was likely the only person that she could feasibly speak with to get answers.
"What if the person who cast the counter curse is dead?" Hermione asked, just to fully understand the options of the procedure.
Healer Simone shrugged and pushed himself away on the wheely little stool. "It makes it more difficult, yes. But if we could retrieve something of theirs, we can likely extract their magical signature and make a potion. Otherwise, the caster, if alive only needs to produce the signature and bottle it up in a vial for processing."
This wasn't exactly how Hermione thought she'd be feeling coming out of the appointment. Yes, it was the most hope she has ever had to be rid of the wretched scar. But now she had to go talk to Malfoy about it, she'd have to be diplomatic and cordial. If he knew she needed something, he'd likely rile her up as he normally did for his own amusement.
"Thank you Healer Simone. This is incredibly hopeful news," Hermione stood, extending her hand now more confidently this time to shake his. This time he accepted.
"When I heard the war hero and ministry dynamo had a problem no one could solve, I set myself to the task. Only glad to be of help!" he returned jovially, leading her to the exit.
After bidding a farewell to the office assistant, Hermione made her way out the tiny office space and to the nearest floo at a pub just down the street. Her mind was reeling from the fresh information, but she grew worried on how to approach the situation with Malfoy.
While they were on friendly terms, this would be a heavier topic to broach. Someone in the room he was in had done something to save her life. An act that if the person was caught, would have resulted in a terrible outcome by the hand of Voldemort himself.
It couldn't have been Narcissa or Draco. That would have turned up on the testimony. Their literal thoughts were scanned of every event that happened in that room. Hermione was even present for it, though needed to excuse herself when they began to replay her torture.
She couldn't even recall the other inhabitants of the room. Griphook was there, but properly passed out from a round of torture. Wormtail was there for a spot of time, but left to get Harry and Ron. It could be possible it was him, but there would have been no reason for him to do it?
Lucius was in the room, Hermione vaguely thought. Was there any reason for him to have had mercy on her life?
There was also a cluster of Death Eaters in the corner, and as memory served Hermione from what she could recall, they looked awfully gleeful about the proceedings.
She would have to interrogate Malfoy. That would be the only way.
Sucking in a thin parcel of air, Hermione took a handful of floo powder, threw it to the fire and spoke, "Ministry of Magic."
Hermione had only been in Malfoy's office once. The memory of that one time was one that conjured all sorts of odd, disjointed feelings within her.
Two years ago, the Ministry held their yearly Christmas Gala at the building itself. The grand atrium had been transformed to be a bedecked winter wonderland, and as Shaklebot noted, saved heaps of money by not having it some place that would have charged them for the space.
It wasn't her finest hour, but quickly into the event Hermione had already found herself with too many coupes of champagne to her name. The effervescent drink tickled her nose as she drank it, and its alcohol content helped her forget the weeks past.
A month ago, her and Ron had split up. It was mutual at the time, at least when the two had discussed it behind closed doors. Ron was fed up with Hermione's obsession with work, and every extracurricular thing she did outside of it, and Hermione did not feel challenged by Ron.
In the end, theirs was never the match everyone hoped it to be.
The breakup was hard, more so because of how her life drastically shifted without the presence of Ron. Plus the Prophet decided to cover the initial news of them spitting with vigor.
But days later, the Prophet had updated news. And pictures.
Ron had seemingly moved on already and was seen galavanting around with an unfamiliar, gorgeous blonde witch. The moving picture captured an eagerly shared snog.
Since that point, Hermione had been right and proper rattled. It didn't make her jealous, she didn't think. But she felt foolish all the same.
That night for the gala, Hermione caved to Ginny's incessant commands from the comfort of their shared living room, to go all out that night. As Ginny put it, 'dress revenge sexy."
Merlin bless her, Ginny was aligned with Hermione over her own blood, and had been on Hermione about getting some payback. Not to let his move go unchecked.
Really what Ginny was getting at was that Hermione should hook up with someone at the party.
Hermione at the time was only the department head for Ethical Treatment of All Beings (muggles, house elves, goblins… anything with sentient thoughts really). Her team was small, meaning if she were to snog anyone that night, she would only have to avoid that group of her employees.
Always the practical thinker, Hermione was.
Ginny kept by Hermione's side at the beginning of the gala. Pointing out attractive prospects that could cure Hermione of the hurt she felt.
She didn't even want Ron. She simply didn't want to feel alone.
Hours had passed, with as many if not more champagnes to match each hour, when Hermione found herself wandering deserted hallways, wanting to just go home. That was when she saw a light on in the Aurors office.
She wasn't a stranger to the office. Harry worked there, and so did Ron for a bit, but he decided it wasn't for him. But as of late, Hermione found herself gravitating to the beat up wooden door of the most notorious department at the ministry.
It was by and large to visit Harry. But her interest was piqued when the once nightmarishly disorganized office of the Aurors happened to be in passable working condition.
"What's with the lack of chaos?" Hermione asked one day, leaning against Harry's desk, balancing a warm mug of tea in her hand.
Harry gestured back and over his shoulder to a closed door. Hermione took in Harry's bemused expression.
"Malfoy's Head Auror now, he told us to cut this shit out and get our shit together," Harry regaled Hermione, making a note on a parchment that was laid out in front of him.
Hermione cast an appraising glance to the door.
"Did he really say shit that many times?"
Harry shook his head. "No. That's the worst part. He's dreadfully professional."
Something odd stirred in Hermione as she looked at the non-descript door and paired "dreadfully professional" with all her current opinions about Malfoy's physique.
From that point on, she'd find her self more and more spending her breaks by Harry's desk. Now that the office wasn't such a disaster, it didn't send her into convulsions anymore.
Every once and awhile, Malfoy would emerge from his office off to do something on behalf of his department. The first time he saw her in the midst of his office, his eyes widened a fraction.
Then it developed into a nod and, "Granger" (the first of that instance widened her own eyes in shock)
Over a few more visits, she noticed his door now remained opened, and on more occasions than before, he would extract himself from his space and instead of leaving the office all together, would hover about the room.
He began to hassle her for spending so much time in the Aurors office.
"Don't you have a sentient slug to save, Granger?" he'd drawl, testing the waters.
To her surprise, it actually made her laugh.
Another time. "Granger, are you lost yet again?"
That time, she herself tested the waters.
"Oh yes, my mistake. I had thought I was in a halfway decently run office. I was incorrect, it would seem."
He grumbled in a way that didn't communicate hate.
Harry was none the wiser to Hermioine's little quibbles with Malfoy. It kept her distracted and were innocent enough.
So when she stumbled upon a light emanating from the Aurors office late night during a ministry party, Hermione couldn't help but investigate.
Inside, rows of desks were shadowed except for a dim glow that highlighted their texture from the office at the end of the room.
"Malfoy?" Hermione called out, though she hadn't meant to. It was the champagne.
Something rattled and then a shuffling sound followed by his silhouetted frame at the door frame.
"Granger?" his voice sounded raspy when he said it.
"What are you doing here?" she questioned him, making her way into the office. Why did she close the door behind her?
"I work here. This is my office." Malfoy explained to her as if she was a dunce.
"Yes, obviously. But during the gala."
She had entered in far enough to peer over his things. There were papers cast about, but all in an even, orderly way. Hermione quite liked that.
There was also a glass of firewhiskey positioned off to the side, having been brought with him from the party.
Malfoy looked bemused and a bit destabilized as Hermione brushed past his figure partially obstructing the door frame and waltzed into his office.
"Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?"
Hermione had gone on to inspect the personal items that Malfoy had in his office, which were few and far between. There were a few quidditch magazines, his certificates from the… many institutions he studied at, but no other personal items to be seen.
"Granger, you're not the Minister of Magic yet, you can't just stroll…." Malfoy followed her to where she stood in front of his certificates.
"You really achieved this many certificates after the war?" Hermione asked, her fingers grazing over one that indicated he had a masters in dueling from a prestigious Moscow university.
"Do I look like the type to forge such a thing?" he questioned, moving to her side while she observed.
She looked at him. "Yes."
Something like a sparkle of bemusement struck his eye. It faded.
"Well I didn't."
Hermioine let her eyes stray away and smirked. "Impressive."
She began strolling again through his office. Malfoy, to his credit hadn't thrown her out, but was growing perturbed at her presence.
The fizzy alcohol buzzing through her system was giving her a delightful buzz, and she was feeling free to do whatever she pleased. After failing to find a revenge snog, she settled on just tormenting Malfoy.
Her eyes strayed to him now standing in front of her, appearing as if he'd like an answer.
A breath hitched at the back of her throat. He was inexcusably handsome. It was, honestly, very unfair. He had grown into a lean, built man with an impressive jaw, hair perfectly tousled that made the onlooker just want to touch it, and a general air about him that made him mysteriously delectable.
Hermioine noted that his eyes were quite striking as well, the icy cool blue pools always so penetrating. But those hadn't changed since school.
She felt her chest thrum at something she kept buried and unaddressed.
All that surfaced from her banished thoughts was a singular opinion that she'd very much like to kiss him.
"Granger," his voice was cool as he said it. Her eyes bounced from his lips to his eyes, then to something over his shoulder because she couldn't handle looking at him.
"I… I can go. I was just wandering. I'm not one for gala events."
She went to turn but his voice drew her back.
"The feeling is mutual."
When she turned back to him, he was half sitting against his desk, looking in her direction.
"Isn't that all you Malfoys do though? Have galas?" Hermione tried to insert some type of sass in the tone.
He rolled his eyes, a very human act, she thought.
"Precisely the reason why I have no interest in attending one for work."
The logic made sense.
"Why are you in your office during a party?" Hermione pressed on, staying rooted in where she stood near the doorway.
He sighed and let his shoulders slump. Again very human. He was much more of a real person than Hermione had previously given him credit for.
"Bangly is out in the field and forgot to review a case file for the target he is watching tonight." Malfoy explained, letting his neck roll. Hermione honed in on a coil of tendons by his collarbone that rippled during the action. "The rest of the team is at the event. I took the message to get him the information he should have already known," Malfoy added with more than just a hint of annoyance at the end.
The blond wizard before her produced his wand and very effortlessly cast a patronus to take forth a message. It had burst through so quickly she couldn't even make out the form it took.
For a few breathless moments, neither made a move to leave.
Feeling the tension build in the room, Hermione produced what small talk she could muster.
"So, head of the Aurors office huh?" she asked. It was no better than bringing up the weather.
At least he seemed amused with her discomfort.
"Yes, that appears to be the case."
"Quite young, don't you think?" Hermione pressed, feeling a sense of contrarianism bubble up in her just by being in his presence.
"If memory serves me, I'm the second youngest head of department ever." he taunted, his eyes falling onto Hermione's. "I wonder who could have beat me?"
"Well I created my department, so it's a little different than being appointed department head." she rattled out, not knowing how to feel about the steady look he gave her.
"All the more impressive."
Hermione's skin flashed with heat at the searing compliment. She gripped at her forearm nervously, knowing that her strappy black silk dress did not give her much cover from revealing her immediate reaction.
She watched him sit there with all the ease and confidence in the world. His hip was effortlessly hitched against his desk with his broad arms folded across his chest, appraising her and attempting to determine why she was there.
"So why are you avoiding the Gala?" he asked again. Was his voice always that deep?
Hermione huffed and without her normally in place filter told him the truth.
"Ginny was trying to get me to snog someone to get back at Ron," Hermione blustered out. Her face steadied, realizing the candor, and her lips morphed to a small 'O'.
Malfoy's head quirked. "Is that so?"
Hermione felt flustered but excited all at once. The liquid courage kept her on her feet.
"Well yes, if you must know." she told him, keeping her voice haughty and nose turned slightly to the sky.
"Any prospects?" he asked in a far too familiar tone.
She noted the space between them. Only a few steps it would seem. What would it feel like to be a step closer?
She tentatively moved herself forward, just a small amount.
His eyes turned down to her feet, then cast up the length of her, and then again to her eyes.
"No, there wasn't." Hermione told him honestly. "And as much as I didn't want Ginny to be right, I did think snogging someone tonight would have made me feel better."
Why was she telling him this! And it wasn't even really the truth. She thought the idea to use her work function as a means to troll for action was terrible. It wasn't until that very second did she think maybe snogging someone other than Ron would make her feel better.
When her eyes focused, she saw that Malfoy was staring at her in an wholly unfamiliar way.
"Perhaps it'd make me feel better if you told me if Ron was bad at his job," Hermione offered as a means to perhaps change the topic of conversation.
"Weasley was shit at his job," Malfoy said evenly, but his tone gave the impression that he was still focused on the other topic.
"Thank you for saying that. I suppose it does make me feel a bit better," Hermione lied, her body having abandoned any sensible cause and was firmly aligned with the outrageous idea that maybe snogging Malfloy against his office desk would give her some relief.
"Happy to oblige," he went on, her brain leapt thinking he was responding to her internal monologue. But it was still about Ron. "I honestly say it at least once a day. Even with him out of the office. His paperwork is still a curse on my existence."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that.
"So, are you abandoning your efforts then?" Malfoy asked in a way that felt conversational.
"Efforts?" Hermione was genuinely confused. The whole situation unnerved her.
"What she-weasle told you to do," he chastised which brought Hermione back to familiar territory.
"You're not seriously still calling her that, are you? What are you 16?"
His eyes caught hers and they were suddenly dark.
"No, I'm not."
A thrill swept down her bare arms.
And then she centered in on what he was asking her.
"I suppose it is a disappointment to not have been able to accomplish the task I was given," Hermione muttered out. At that, Malfoy stood and was now a head taller than she was.
What was happening? What was he doing!
"I feel compelled to be apart of the solution, to your problem." Malfoy went onto say in a maddening tone. "It would be a dreadful shame if you failed once in your life."
Her mouth was open but nothing came out. He took a step into her.
And her chin rose.
"It would be a shame," was what she finally decided to say in such a lusty way she nearly smacked herself for how forward she sounded.
Smacking heartbeats counted down in her chest as Draco Malfoy, in his office, leaned down in a dastardly slow pace until she felt his breath on her lips.
A hand found her hip and drew her in. Another hand found her jaw and tipped it up ever so slightly.
Hermione observed that his touch was far more gentle than she would have ever presumed.
When their lips met, Hermione felt and heard buzzing all around. It was only a second in and she dared to think this was the best kiss of her life.
Then his lips moved, and opened hers to his, and then his tongue was there in her mouth, and the feeling was overpowering.
Her hand shot up to his wrist holding her chin and gripped at it. She wasn't sure why. It just felt like the right move.
After a particularly searing flick of the tongue in her mouth by Malfoy, Hermione moved her body flush against his. But coldness followed.
Malfoy had stepped back, letting the kiss culminate naturally, and dropped his hands.
She noted his chest moved quicker than normal, but he had stepped away from her. Something primal in her flicked a glance to his desk and thought terrible things.
But he had put space between them. Which she'd forever be thankful for.
"I'm glad to have been in aide to you Granger. Now you can say there isn't a task you've failed yet."
There was no condescension in the way he said it.
Her head dipped, and the swirls of reality began to catch up to the drunken situation she put herself in. Once her eyes darted about the room a few times, a knowing sigh from Malfoy pulled her attention up.
"Lets get back you to she-weasle," Malfoy suggested, gesturing to the door.
He followed her out and accompanied her to the edge of the party where he disengaged from her. A cold air seemed to follow his departure.
Hermione had never told another person about her exchange with Malfoy that night. For weeks later, she wouldn't even go to the Aurors office in fear of how she may react.
But in time, the drunken event became a thing of the past. They built up their rapport again as if nothing had ever happened.
Even if she found that every time he'd pass her, or say her name her body reacted in a way she couldn't stop, nor comprehend.
When she became the Under Secretary to the Minister, her focus was dead set on work and turning around the underperforming departments. More than a year had gone by since it had all happened.
And now, she stood before Malfoy's office once again. His department was deserted what with it being five to five on a Friday. Part of Hermione wished he'd have left for the day as well, her nerves now catching up to the conversation she would need to have with him, but the other part of her was desperate to close the chapter of her past that stayed plastered on her arm.
This time, Hermione at least knocked before entering.
"Come in," his gravely voice called from behind wood and glass.
Hesitantly she pushed open the door and stuck her head through the gap.
"Malfoy, do you have a second?"
His eyes moved nervously around his office, scanning for anything to be embarrassed by, but his office was spotless, and a testimony to organization. He nodded.
"What can I do for you Granger?" he asked, and the words that he used threatened to pull back memories of the last time he helped her with something she needed to accomplish.
She shook her head.
"This will likely be an odd topic to broach. It has to do with what happened between me and Bellatrix in your manor."
His eyes steadied, moved to her arm that was covered with a blouse, then back to her face.
"Oh?"
It was unclear why she was so nervous. She was on good terms with Malfoy and if anyone would be able to give her more information as to what happened that day, it was him.
"I've mentioned to you in the past that I was looking for healers to remove my scar from that day. No one could do it."
He stood from his desk but continued to keep the wooden box in between them. He didn't say anything.
"Well, the healer I met today, from that note I passed you, thinks there is a solution." Hermione began to wring her hands. "It would seem that there was a countercurse placed on the cuts she made."
His skin, already alabaster, paled a shade whiter.
An odd reaction, Hermione thought, but he hadn't told her to leave.
"I can't remember who else was in the room that day. I'm trying to figure out who would have cast it."
Malfoy placed a hand on his desk and let his head turn down in thought.
"Why do you need to know who cast it?"
"It's tied to my skin through their magical signature. If I can get the signature to match, the healer said it can be removed."
Hermione watched as Malfoy's expression turned tortured, his head shaking back in forth in thought.
"I can get you that. Give me a day and I'll provide it to you."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"You know who cast it?" she asked, storming to the edge of the other side of his desk, placing both hands against it to lean over towards him.
"Yes, Granger. Now if you'd please excuse me, I have some work to do."
Her eyes narrowed. He was being intentionally withholding.
"Not a chance Malfoy. I have a right to know who did it." Hermione prevailed to him. His eyes met hers briefly and then turned away.
"Do you want the signature or not?" Draco snapped back, his posture turning cagey.
"Of course I want the signature!" she belted from the bottom of her lungs. Malfoy sighed and shot a spell to close and lock his door, even though no one was in his department at that point, and a silencing charm for whatever fight she was about to put up.
"Then just accept that I'm willing to get that for you and be grateful, OK!" Draco yelled back. He moved himself from behind his desk and began pacing to the side.
Hermione crossed her arms and peered at him suspiciously. Why wouldn't he tell her who did it?
"It wasn't you or your mother, I know that. It would have come through in the legmimmens testimony." Hermione rattled off. Malfoy ran a hand through his hair.
"OK, what is your point?"
"Will you at least tell me who else was in the room? So I can figure it out on my own?" Hermione tried compromising.
"Fine. My father, Yaxley, Rowle, Fenir, and Roland."
Hermioine's expression screwed up. "None of them would have done a counter curse to save my life."
Malfoy threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't know, maybe one of them was in love with you!"
Hermione's body stilled. She had never seen Malfoy get so worked up like this.
"Tell me who did it." she demanded of him, moving to where he stood in front of a shelf of books.
"No," he answered plainly.
"Why not?" she asked, needing him to give her something as to why he was being like this.
"Because you don't want to know." he said simply, sounding less circumspect.
Hermione barked out one humorless laugh. "What do you mean I don't want to know! That's what I'm asking for!"
"It was me, OK!" he finally blurted out, eyes burning into hers at close range.
She took a step back.
"What?" her voice was small as she asked it.
He rolled his neck and turned to her. "I did it OK? You're welcome. I'll send you my signature so you can get the scar removed."
Malfoy turned back to his desk if only to retreat from her, but she followed.
"That doesn't make sense. It didn't come up in your testimony when you were legimenns."
He rolled his eyes. "Granger, I'm very good at occlumency."
She looked scandalized while also feeling a deep thrumming of admiration for having enough skill to thwart ministry leaders with his occlumency.
But it still didn't explain why he hid it.
"So, was it that you felt bad that I was being tortured because I was your classmate?" she asked with trepidation.
From his desk Malfoy looked at her, and his eyes shown sad. "Yeah. That's it."
He began to organize the papers on his desk to leave but she approached him again. His whole body stilled.
"You hated me in school," she said what she thought was the truth.
His head fell and some of the fight seemed to leave him.
"No…I didn't."
Building recognition of what was happening was starting to come to fruition for Hermione.
Her heart palpated at double time and an odd sensation of yearning and anticipation swirled through her.
Why would a wizard she thought hated her all throughout Hogwarts risked his life to save hers?
She took another step into him. "Malfoy, why did you do it?"
With his eyes locked onto the grains of wood throughout his desk, he stilled.
"Because I'm in fucking love with you."
A proverbial ice bath washed over her skin. Her eyes widened but instead of taking a step backwards, she found herself leaning in.
"That's impossible."
To that, Malfoy laughed. "Trust me Granger, its true. It's obnoxiously true."
The tingling at her skin was begging her to confront how this news made her feel, but her inquisitive self pressed on.
"You were always so mean to me."
His eyes finally met hers in a taunting way, and it made her stomach swoop.
"We were kids. I was a dumb boy. Also I was actually suppose to hate you, not…" he stopped. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. I tried to stop. I tried to distract myself. Nothing worked."
Strong emotions were radiating out from Hermione that screamed at her to take a side on this revelation. She could feel where her body mind and heart was rallying her too, but she was all too confused.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she questioned in a whispered tone that sounded like a hopeful breeze.
For the first time since admitting it, his eyes stayed on hers.
"Because it's you Granger. What were you going to say? Like you so aptly pointed out, I was an ass to you. And a Death Eater. What were you going to say if I told you how I felt?"
I'd say kiss me
She shook her internal monologue into submission.
"But I kissed you," she reminded him. They were close enough to where their heat mingled against one another.
"I kissed you," he corrected, and went on. "And you were drunk."
"Not drunk enough to kiss anyone else," she told him, without knowing why she said it.
His eyes brightened, becoming curious at her reaction.
All those times that Hermione magically wandered into the Aurors office, she felt like it was something more than just her friendly banter with Harry that drew her there.
The thrills she'd feel when she'd hear his devilishly low, commanding voice, and when that same voice would shift into something akin to teasing.
How she yearned to know more about him, but was always too scared to broach anything like true familiarity with the former Slytherin.
The fact that there was not a wizard she had ever been impressed by more so than Malfoy, and how his exceptional ability to be so capable made her warm in a way that did not feel all too professional.
Her hand found his on the desk. It burned something delightful when she felt his skin.
Every muscle in his body tightened as he deftly moved to angle himself towards her. His hand turned over to take hers with hope.
"Granger, don't tell me you'd be so stupid as to entertain this," he questioned, but his face looked hopeful.
"I'm not always smart with my decision making," she rallied back, letting her finger graze his.
"Yes you are," he reminded her, but his voice was now thick with something he held back.
"Well I'm choosing not to be with this then," Hermione told him, her voice shaking with anticipation.
Unlike the time before in his office where he slowly took her mouth with his, this time his lips were on hers with a message. One that told her a story that she had not yet known.
Her hands were on his face, feeling the faint stubble of his chin as she breathed in everything about this wizard kissing her.
Still reeling from the reveal that Draco Malfoy, pureblood royalty and former Death Eater, loved her, she did what she could to organize that off to the side and let her body sing in a sigh of relief that this thing that had been building in her for him was finally recognized.
She pulled away abruptly.
"I'm your boss!" Hermione exclaimed, looking astonished at her own misstep. A voice inside of her told her to shut up.
Holding her neck with one hand, Malfoy hastily fished out his wand and fired out a Patrons. Why did his exceptional skill arouse her so?
"What was that?" Hermione asked in bewilderment. The voice inside her kept yelling shut up woman and kiss this man!
"My resignation," Malfoy said seconds before plunging back to her mouth, taking her lips and tongue greedily.
She pushed away from him. "What! No you can't!"
"I just did," he went back for her mouth. When she pushed back once more a smirk grazed his lips.
"No! You're the only department head that knows what they're doing! Who would even replace you? Harry?" she sounded scandalized.
His eyes grew deep and playful as he watched her struggle before him.
"Your chief concern is the capabilities of my replacement?" A brow rose. He placed a warm hand on her hip and moved her until her bum was against his desk.
"Well, you're very good at what you do," she squeaked out as he lifted her slightly to be seated on the wood.
"I'm honored," he drawled in a deliciously menacing way as he placed a kiss on her neck.
"You can't just quit your job because…" she didn't know what to say. What did she want him to do?
"If you are at all entertaining the prospects of being with me, I will do whatever you tell me to do," he mumbled into her neck, then feeling the argument against her throat, "and also things you don't tell me to do, such as quit my job, which is done might I add."
His hand was moving about her hip in a sinful way that made her lean into it.
"Are you entertaining this?" he asked again. The way he said it was so pompous and self assured, like she had given him all the inclination he needed to know she was his.
She turned her head to interrupt his activities with her neck.
"And if I am entertaining it?" she questioned rhetorically. "What then?"
A spark of something she had never seen flashed behind his eyes. It was uncut joy.
"Assuming I don't bung things up," he started, his lips edging closer to hers again. "First, I'd like to give my office a good send off, then I will court you, I will ravish you, and if you'll have me, I'll marry you."
The astonishment was painted across her face, but nothing he said scared her away, and he spotted it.
Her body started to give way to his touch, her muscles loosening at the realization that she wanted this, had wanted this but never gave her self the permission to let it materialize.
The fact she hadn't slapped him at being so forward was enough encouragement he needed to proceed.
His deft hand worked it's way up from her hip until it found the curve of her breast that was hidden under a billowy, silk blouse. The bra she wore was sheer, so the moment his thumb grazed her nipple it peeked under his touch.
"Draco!" she gasped in pleasure and astonishment.
His lips curved to a smile over hers. "Say it again"
Her mind wanted to fight him even though her body gave way.
"You say my name," she argued back, her voice sounding a tad bit weak though.
"Hermione," he whispered it like a secret over her lips.
A stunned reaction caused her to throw her hands around his neck and lurch him into her. A surprised chuckle escaped the sides of his lips.
He continued to make progress over her curves, first spending time against her very responsive breasts, then down to her hips and legs that were held within a black pencil skirt that fell at her ankles.
She in turn explored the fibers of his hair, thick under her touch and exactly as soft yet durable as she has imagined them to be.
Because the truth was, she had imagined it. This. Being with him. But she never gave herself the permission to believe it could ever be reciprocated.
Pooling of warmth radiated out from her lower belly, and a throb between her legs began to build. An unintended moan moved from her mouth to his, vibrating from tongue to tongue.
His lips left hers and her chin followed his in dispute of his decision. But as he pulled back, all while maintaining perfect eye contact with her, he leaned down and began to pull up the edges of her skirt.
He watched her as if monitoring for any hesitation. Whatever her eyes told him threw petrol on the fire.
Inch by inch, his hand crept up her inner thigh, exerting ever so much patience that only boiled Hermione's core.
It was a thrilling feeling to have Draco Malfoy graze the outside of her panties, which she felt had already grown damp. Her hips undulated towards the touch.
Pulling back the elastic, his hand made its way down until it found its way inside to her sensitive spot that pulsated with approval.
Malfoy's face was pressed against Hermione's neck, having pushed away her hair that was much more tame since school, but still just as all consuming over to her other shoulder. His lips hummed a guttural growl into her veins.
Every ounce of reason was thrown out the door the minute Malfoy had declared himself to her. It was dreadfully out of bounds for her to be doing what she was in a ministry office. Her eyes drifted up to a clock that displayed it was now half past five. At least it wasn't during work hours.
There was a tightening in her core that begged to be released. Malfoy's fingers felt the desire and angled themselves until he could enter her.
She was pleasantly surprised at how Malfoy's competency extended to the realm of such things. With little work, he was moving within her precisely over the spot that was consumed by pressure. His thumb remained pressed against her outside nerves and together worked her into a crescendo.
His face pulled back from where he lingered his tongue just below her ear. His eyes watched her as she reacted to the things he continued to do to her. She knew her look was probably quite wild, and quite pleased.
Her hand shot out and pulled his neck into her as if she was a greedy child and moaned sounds of approval into his mouth as he perfectly touched her.
Only a few moments more needed to pass before she was right at the edge, her hips moving in motion with his pace, bringing her to a cliff.
Her voice was strained against his name as it came gasping from her lips.
"Draco!" was all she could do to signal to him that he had done it. That he had brought her over the edge.
She was reaching up to his face, bringing his lips into hers as she plastered quick and lingering kisses over him.
His forehead leaned into hers while she continued to regain her breath.
"Is this really happening?" he asked like he didn't want an answer.
Hermione was just as shook as he was, but she knew it was happening.
"I never thought you would see me in this way," Hermione whispered out, their breath dancing between their faces.
He let a gruff, humorless laugh escape his lips.
"I see you in every way, Granger."
Her skin flushed. Every inch of it.
"You're just…" her voice hitched while his hand reassumed it's exploration across her clothed skin. "...a very intimidating presence"
"Me?" he asked in false astonishment. Her eyes found his and they were smiling.
"Come off it Malfoy. What would I do, just tell you that the reason I kept coming around the Aurors office wasn't for my best friend but because I hoped to catch glimpses of you from Harry's desk? Or that there wasn't some part of me that hoped you'd be in your office the night of the gala?"
Draco alleviated a longing sigh.
"This could have been going on for two years?" he complained half heartedly.
Hermione smirked. "At least."
Her hand that had been at his waist trailed over to the opening of his robes and found a cool buckle with her fingers.
When her chin turned up to meet his, he cast her a wavering glance.
The clang of this buckle becoming undone made his eyes go rigid.
"Granger…"
She turned in his grasp, still positioned on his desk, and freed herself to stand. He turned to face her as she faced him.
First, she brought her hand back and released the length of the zipper that kept her now bunched up skirt together. Letting it fall to the ground.
He approached, his eyes molten pools of want, placing a hand under her blouse and on her bare stomach. His other hand reached up and undid the prim tie that gathered the high necked collar of her blouse. Then, he slowly relieved her of her top.
In nothing but her panties and bra she stood in front of Draco, in the office he would soon vacate.
Something that looked almost like nerves struck him.
"I should say," he regained his voice, watching her with hawk eyes, scanning each contour of her body. Her hand reached out and pushed his robes off his shoulders.
"This was not the way I imagined our first time together…" he tried to explain, his voice sounding husky.
She rose a brow, not believing him. He shook his head.
"Well it was one way, but not what I would have planned…"
Hermione was unbuttoning his oxford and working it away from his shoulders.
"Please indulge me in your fantasies…" Hermione teased, her voice giving way to the desire that was building yet again.
"I would have brought you to one of the Malfoy estates. There wouldn't be a house elf around. I would have made sure of it…"
That made Hermione earnestly laugh, and also warm. It made her feel seen.
The nerves that flirted with his features were long gone as his hand moved over her torso and up to her breasts.
"It would have been atrocious, but I would have prepared a meal for you the muggle way. To properly woo you."
Hermione smirked, chin angled up taking in his lips, and eyes as he regaled her.
"I would have been properly wooed"
Draco angled Hermione back towards his desk and lifted her by the bum until she was seated and he was positioned between her legs.
"Once wooed, I would have brought you back to a bedroom. I wouldn't let you go until you were on the verge of forgetting your own name."
The prospect thrilled her, and it made her want him more than anything she could have ever wished for.
"But this?" Hermione questioned, her voice giving way to the urges that were building within her. "You're OK with this?"
"I think you have a unclear definition of the word 'OK'. I'm exceedingly more than OK with this. But lets just call this a trial run."
Hermione shuffled her body into his waist, and her hands found the zipper of his pants and brought it down with gusto.
A sharp intake of breath accompanied Hermione's hand grazing the outside of his boxer shorts, feeling the hard length underneath.
His hands took both sides of her panties and gave it a gruff pull until they were low enough to extract from her legs. She gulped, never having felt so aroused before in all her life.
Before proceeding, before entering her as she was eagerly awaiting with panting breath, his grip found the back of her neck and craned her face until it met his.
More than just lust passed between the two. For her, it felt like breathing a sigh of relief that she finally understood this feeling she had for the Slytherin. For Draco, it was profound equilibrium and happiness that the witch he loved would want him back.
Having moved down his boxer shorts, and giving Hermione a brief preview of what was to come, Draco moved himself in between her thighs until his tip rested at her opening. Her hips bucked to meet him.
His eyes bored into hers with a dark need as he moved himself inside her.
A collective gasp sounded between the two, and Hermione praised merlin that so long before, when she was merely yelling at him, that Malfoy cast a silencing charm on the office.
His length filled her, and the remnants of her previous orgasam made her insides exceedingly sensitive.
Draco watched Hermione keenly from his standing position, and her seated position from the desk, as he slowly moved himself in and out of her.
Pleasure and release danced at his eyes. She found him analyzing her reactions to him, growing pleased when she responded positively.
The pace began to build, and so did Hermione's gasps and moans. Feeling feral, she pulled his head down into hers as he continued to work himself in and out of her.
Their tongues clashed together while he rocked at a pace, bringing himself against the deep thrumming spot that existed inside her.
Moaning wildly into his mouth, he moved his hand to rest over that sensitive spot his thumb seemed adept at working and drove her to the brinks of insanity.
It was clear the two were very compatible in this arena, Hermione thought with a gurgled moan into his lips.
Draco leaned over his desk to grab his wand. He made quick work of vanishing his trousers and boxer briefs before taking Hermione by the arse and lifting her up into him from the desk.
Twirling around, her back met his office wall with a thud as the jostling movement with him inside her did something blissful.
"Draco," she called out, arching her back and pushing herself into him.
"Never," he thrusted inside her, "stop," another thrust, "saying. My. name."
A hard aching thud rattled against her insides as she frantically searched for his mouth with hers. Their tongues collided in an explosion of realized mutual desire.
Her core coiled tighter, and tighter around him and from his moans of pleasure, he could feel it.
"I'm never going to get enough of this," he gasped as he continued to work himself into her, against her, doing everything to her she never knew she needed.
"Same," was all she could clamor out as his pace quickened until her body shook with a wind up of a release.
Her eyes turned to his the moment she came, and her reaction matched with his pace sent him to the far reaches of space and he came undone simultaneously.
Everything spun around her. It all seemed different suddenly. The way her skin felt, now all sweaty and shivering with adrenaline mixed with arousal. The scent of the office came into focus, and she found it was something she always noticed lingered in her forays into the Aurors office.
He held her tightly in his arms, her body still braced up against the wall. Each drew in great pulls of air trying to feed their hungry lungs.
Draco eventually pulled back enough to look at her. The peaks of her cheeks were rosy as was the tip of her nose. She felt her eyes swimming with wonder.
A delicate swipe of a stray curl off her temple sent a newly acquired shiver down her spine.
With determination, Draco leaned in and kissed her once more. It was something more tender than their ravenous escapades from moments prior. It felt like a promise.
"You should know," Draco hummed against her lips. Her eyes flickered up through her lashes to take in his look which was surprisingly sentimental. "Now that I know you are not opposed to…"
Hermione smiled. "I'm certainly not opposed."
He grinned. "Well, now that I know you are amiable to the idea, I should warn you that I'm pretty unrelenting in getting what I want."
"You should have exercised that unrelentingness before." Hermione took a gulp of breath as he adjusted her waist away from his and set her down gently.
"So bossy," he mused, dipping in for a kiss. "I hope you always stay that way."
It warmed her to be so desired for just acting as she would in any run of the mill situation.
Though this situation, was anything but run of the mill.
Hermione moved out of his range to attempt to collect her things, but his hand drew her back. He smiled happily down.
"So now what?" she asked, her voice giving way to some apprehension of the great unknown.
He sighed, now a wizard without a care in the world. "I suppose I should find a new job."
Hermione gave him a playful slap to his bare chest. He only gripped her tighter.
"Then I will begin to woo you."
"I think you just did that," Hermione blushed.
"Well," he brought his mouth down to hers with painstaking precision and care. He moved away. "I will have to continue to woo you if all my other plans involving are to come to fruition."
It was a wonder to be with a wizard so cocksure and determined on a set future, particularly when it pertained to how she fit into that equation.
"I'd quite like you to cook me a muggle dinner," she smirked, squirming her way tighter into his embrace.
His eyes sparkled and it confounded Hermione as to how this could be real.
"Done."
"And no house elves," Hermione instructed.
"There won't be one within 50 kilometers of the estate," Draco teased, now letting his hand dance across her jaw.
A few heart beats passed as she took in the warmth of his skin against hers, reveling in the astonishing wizard that had a checkered past and now, and even then it would seem, had come to love her.
And she knew she felt the same.
"And when you can, I'd like to get a sample of your signature. It looks like I'll finally be able to get this thing removed from me," Hermione asked, reminding herself of what brought her there in the first place.
Draco reached down to her wrist and placed a kiss against the scarred skin that would be like that for only a short time more.
It would be replaced with something she had no clue she was allowed to imagine. It would be replaced with a someone. Someone that would challenge her, and make her laugh, and make her exceptionally frustrated but only in a way that was good for her.
Light would finally replace the dark.