Alright, this is virtually my first fanfic, so be nice. I'm a total DMHG shipper, but I seem to have much less trouble writing stories about them in their post-Hogwarts years, so that's what this is. One-Shot.
There's also SMUTSMUTSMUT in the last part, so if it offends you, don't read it.
Thank you! R&R pleaseeeee.
-ivy.
Cigarettes & Sweat.
"Draco, are you ready yet?" Hermione called to the house in general. No answer. Shaking her head in disbelief and exasperation, she made her way across the carpeted floor, up the stairs, and to the master bathroom. "Draco, we're going to be late!" Answered only by silence, Hermione proceeded to bang on the door. "Draco!" she yelled again, glancing at her watch nervously.
"What?" came his muffled reply, but Hermione could barely make out his words.
Tapping the handle impatiently with her wand, Hermione unlocked the door and entered. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of a large gilded mirror, having a silent tantrum because his hair wasn't behaving properly.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him out of the apartment, pushing him unceremoniously into the street.
"Now, now, Granger, is that any way to treat the man who makes you scream every night?" Draco questioned, a wicked grin marring his features.
Hermione studied his face for a moment, considering smacking him across his pale, pointed face. Instead, she chuckled good-naturedly and grabbed his hand. "Ready?" she questioned, watching him skeptically.
"Ready as I'll ever be. I really hate these functions, Hermione, and I still don't understand why we have to go!"
"Because it's our job, and you have a speech to make. Now shut up."
Pouting like a sulky child, Draco muttered "Fine," and the two Apparated to the Ceremonial Center.
Appearing in the Entrance Hall, Hermione shot Draco a look that clearly said 'Don't try anything funny', and they made their way towards the party, Draco frantically trying to fix his hair.
Pushing open the carved oaken doors, they stepped into their hectic work lives. These were the sort of functions where the women dress in their most lavish finery, all tittering obnoxiously, and judging each other by the amount of karats around their necks, while the men shake hands a little too enthusiastically, plastering their faces with fake billboard smiles, always greeting each other with a rowdy, "There you are, been looking all over for you, old chap!" when in reality, they couldn't care less.
And it was these functions that Hermione hated most. She despised how everybody was so false in their words and actions, complementing each other's dress and at the same time thinking, "Where the hell did she get that rag?"
She suspected that most women only came to these so they could meet men. Sure, they said, "I'm here because it's my duty, and I would like to better my career and magical cooperation." But what they meant was, "I'm here to meet a man with a high status and a fat paycheck to sleep with tonight."
Draco seemed to have convinced himself that he hated the functions just as much as Hermione did, but she knew that he was pleased with the fancy dress code and the many important people, not to mention the chance to brag to Ministry officials.
And that was what Draco thrived on; why, at that very moment he was in a corner with a glass of red wine and a pompous smirk, telling a large group of people about his latest inheritance.
Rolling her eyes in amusement, Hermione settled herself at a smaller table with a tablecloth the color of cat sick. She giggled quietly at the snippets of conversation around her. Everywhere she turned, there was the obnoxious drawl of the well-bred, speaking condescendingly to their colleagues. She heard Draco telling the Minister that 'he had a very clean record at Hogwarts in his day.'
Hermione was so busy eavesdropping that she didn't notice the Minister's wife take her place on the stage. It wasn't until the timid woman had cleared her throat loudly into the microphone that she received any recognition whatsoever from the audience.
"Welcome, everybody, to the Ministry's 900th Anniversary Celebration! 900 years of Wizarding order, prosperity, and peace." Hermione snorted derisively at that comment, earning her several disapproving looks from the people surrounding her.
"Before we continue the celebration, we will welcome to the stage Mr. Draco Malfoy, who's father made a very large donation to the," she glanced at her paper, "Department of Magical Transport, adding twenty five new broomsticks to the Ministry's stock." Smiling falsely, the Minister's wife led a round of applause for Lucius Malfoy.
"Now let us bow our heads for a moment of silence in Mr. Malfoy's
Honor. His death shook us all." 'Guess they don't want the public to know their dear Lucius is in Azkaban' Hermione though, frowning slightly.
"Draco, will you take over?" the woman asked politely.
"Gladly, Marina, thank you." Draco drawled, sidling over to take center stage. "Friends, colleagues…boss," Draco began, receiving a collective laugh from the audience. "I am honored to be the one to kick off the festivities. 900 years this Ministry has been around, and what a grand 900 years it's been. Even though I've only been around to see twenty-seven years of it."
There was another smattering of laughter at this, and Hermione chuckled as many of the woman in the room sighed, staring lustfully at Draco. She found that wherever he went, Draco seemed to attract his own fan club… woman just seemed to find him irresistible.
"Now, before I get my ass of the stage, I would like to introduce my girlfriend of nine months, Hermione Granger… the most beautiful, smart, funny and amazing woman in the world. Stand up, babe."
Blushing a deep shade of crimson, Hermione rose shakily from her seat, and shooting Draco a look, waved halfheartedly to the audience. Looking around at the unfamiliar faces, Hermione noticed that all the women had something in common; they were all staring at her with a look of utmost envy.
Draco motioned for her to join him, so slowly and shyly, she picked her way through the maze of tables and outstretched legs to reach the stage.
Once she was standing beside him, blinking furiously in the bright artificial lights, he turned to face her and took her hands in his.
"Hermione, I love you more than I've ever loved anything or anybody. You make me laugh, smile…" he paused, and leaned towards her with a devilish grin, whispering so only she could hear, "you give incredible head…" Hermione's mouth fell open in a scandalized manner, and he pressed a finger to her lips so that he could continue.
"Hermione, marry me." This was not what she had been expecting. Regardless, her answer was inevitable.
SMUT TIME, KIDS!
Hermione's back collided harshly with the door, but the pain was disregarded; she continued to run her hands wildly over Draco's back, her tongue exploring every bit of his mouth she could reach.
She had her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, so their movements were clumsy and restricted. Feeling his way along the wall, Draco blindly searched for the doorknob with his probing fingertips.
Finally, his fumbling hands located the brass handle, and wrenching the door open, he stumbled into the room, Hermione still latched onto his waist and mouth.
Quickly taking in his surroundings, Draco realized they were in somebody's office, and that there was a large mahogany desk in the corner. Lowering her gently onto the wooden surface, Draco began to undress her. He carefully unzipped the zipper that ran down the side of her strapless white dress, and she kicked off her stilettos to save him time.
He slowly slid the dress down her small, lithe body, and planted feather-light kisses on every patch of skin that was gradually revealed. Her skin tingled and burned where his lips had been, and she felt goosebumps rising along her exposed flesh.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on what she was feeling and the definite burning wetness between her legs. Her focus was so absolute that she nearly cried out in shock when he took one of her breasts into his mouth, and massaging the other with his palm. She moaned loudly, but he silenced her by pressing another kiss to her lips.
She pulled him up onto the desk so that he was on top of her, and then maneuvered cleverly, flipping them so that she was on top.
Draco's eyes widened in surprise, but he went along with the change without missing a beat. Hermione broke the kiss harshly, and straddled his legs. He attempted to sit up, but she pushed him down again, getting increasingly aggressive as her passion heightened.
Her fingers flew deftly over the button on his pants, and she pulled the offending cloth from his body in one vigorous motion. Grinning wickedly, she took hold of his member and squeezed relentlessly; his protests of pain and pleasure only served to arouse her more, and she tore off the rest of her garments in a frustrated and feverish manner.
Draco's eyes were closed, his mouth open, so she took advantage of the few seconds in which he was off guard, and lowered herself onto him, immediately moaning in pleasure.
His eyes flew open in incredulous shock, and he involuntarily thrusted his hips upward, eliciting a gasp from Hermione. Draco, with no desire to lose his position of control in the situation, swiftly grabbed her hips and thrust into her, deeper with every stroke.
Their cries filled the air, and soon their hips were meeting thrust for thrust until they screamed one last time in unison, and collapsed on one another, breathing heavily.
They lay panting on one another until Draco, his normally perfectly sculpted blond hair lying limp in his face, sat up and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his discarded pant's pocket.
Lighting it with an air of expertise, he took a well-rehearsed drag and exhaled, lying back down to face Hermione.
"You're so trashy," she said to him breathlessly, eyeing the cigarette with distaste.
"But you love me," he replied roguishly, signature smirk in place.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke and lust-induced sweat. "Yeah… yeah, I do."