This is basically a crack fic and a request by Sage Moonshine to expand the short bit I tweeted in response to writing prompt:
A plate slips from her grasp the sound draws all eyes to her.
"M-malfoy, can you help me in the kitchen? I've just remembered I left a few things behind."
He arches a brow, but follows her when the swinging door shuts, she turns on her heel.
"My family thinks we're dating."
"Pansy, does Malfoy have to be present for this? He doesn't even live here."
She looks up from her magazine and over to Draco, who is grumbling at the kitchen counter as he slices cucumbers and tomatoes.
"He's always here," she reminds her, giving a sly smile, "and besides, he's helping!"
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Yes, yes, he's doing wonders with that knife.
"You know, despite the complete focus and concentration this job entails, I can hear you."
She snorts. "Oh yes, Gods know you need to concentrate- wouldn't want to slice open one of your 'hardly used a knife before' Pureblood fingers."
He turns and points the knife at her. "I will cut these cucumber slices too thick on purpose, Granger."
Pansy throws down her magazine onto the kitchen island and jumps up from her stool. "Don't you dare, Draco. Hermione, apologize please."
"Sorry," she grumbles.
"Now, children, if you can't play nice, then please separate yourselves. Hermione, I think the living room could use some straightening."
She glares at Pansy for a short second and then trudges through the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the open and living room.
Hermione and Pansy have been flatmates fora little over six months.
After a messy breakup with Ron, she crashed with Ginny and Harry for a bit, trying to find apartment listings close to the Ministry.
They had told her she could stay at Grimmauld Place for as long as she needed- they definitely had the room, but she felt like she was intruding.
Luna met her and Ginny out for lunch one afternoon and mentioned that she was moving to Scotland to be a part of a research team (for some creature Hermione had never heard of), so her room was available in the flat she was living in.
When Hermione arrived with Luna to look at the space and came face to face with Pansy Parkinson, who was on her way out, for the first time since her trial after the war, she immediately told Luna she didn't think it would be a good fit for her.
"Just come over for lunch tomorrow," Luna encouraged, "I promise she's not who you think."
So she did, for Luna. Half way through lunch, she found herself gasping for breath from laughter at a story Pansy was telling about a client that had come in to Madam Malkins the previous day.
Hermione went for lunch twice a week for a month on Pansy's off days until the week before Luna was leaving.
"I think I'd like to take that room, if you'll have me," she'd said, midway through their afternoon tea.
She watched as Pansy's calculating gaze morphed into a bright smile. "I'd love to have you, Granger."
And so, she moved in. She truly did love the space. The living room was cozy with a sofa, large armchair, and chaise lounge (that was unspokenly Pansy's) that were arranged around a coffee table.
The fireplace was a ways from the furniture but it's position in the room was clearly used to center the set up.
The dining room was a straight walk from the living room and across the table to the right was a swinging door that led to the kitchen.
Passed the dining room, directly to the left, was a half bathroom, and then down a small hall were Pansy's office and bedroom, and at the very end was Hermione's room.
Her room was a nice size, fitting her Queen bed, night stand, writing desk, and two waist high bookshelves comfortably, with an en-suite and small walk-in closet.
The first week was great- Hermione would get up at six, do her bathroom routine and get ready for work, then go into the kitchen and make herself a cup for tea to go.
At six forty-five, Pansy would waltz through the swinging door in a little satin set and matching robe, sit at the island on her usual stool, grab a peach from the fruit bowl, and wave her wand to get her coffee brewing.
"See you for dinner," Hermione would call as she left the room to go to the floo.
"Have a nice day, darling," Pansy would joke.
Hermione would return home at six and start dinner on the evenings when Pansy was still at work. On her off days, Pansy would have dinner just about ready when Hermione came through the floo.
The first weekend, however, was an entirely different story.
When Hermione woke at nine and padded into the kitchen in just a sleep shirt and underwear, she was shocked to find a shirtless Draco Malfoy, barefoot and in sleep pants that hung low on his hips, leaning against the kitchen island.
He looked up from his newspaper, gave her a once over, openly lingered on her legs, and went back to reading.
"Morning, Granger. Sleep well?"
"What?"
Pansy walked in a beat later. "Goodmorning, darlings. I didn't hear you come in last night, Draco."
"I was trying to be as quiet as possible- didn't want to scare your new flatmate."
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can someone please explain to me what's going on?"
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Hermione. Draco sleeps here sometimes; he has a dresser and futon in my office."
"I come here when being at the Manor becomes... too much."
Hermione was shocked by his admission but nodded in understanding.
That was the one and only time she understood Draco Malfoy.
After that, it was like the Manor was always too much for him; he rarely left. They did nothing but bicker and argue until Pansy had had enough and made them separate.
More often than not, she'd come home and catch him using her bathroom to shower.
" Get out," she'd scream.
"Or, you could just join me if you need to shower so badly," he'd retort.
"You obnoxious ferret!"
She'd slam the door on his laughter and would throw away all his bathing products that night, only to find them replaced the next evening.
He was so infuriating; with his looming height, obnoxiously broad and defined chest, and his consistently smart mouth.
Six months later, the bickering has turned to joking and teasing and Hermione telling Malfoy on a daily basis that he should be helping them with rent- that's how often he's there.
But today is important. Hermione's parents are coming to visit her for the first time since she restored their memories. After many weeks and hours of questions and tears, they finally forgave her. They'd decided to keep living the lives she made for them (after changing their names back with a little magical meddling on Hermione's part) and spoke to her daily on the Muggle phone Hermione insisted be installed when she moved into the flat.
This will be the first time they've been back to England. So everything needs to be perfect.
Pansy follows her into the living room, sees her practically beating a throw pillow from the sofa.
"What did that poor pillow ever do to you,
Hermione?"
"I'm pretending it's Malfoy," she hisses, giving it another swat.
"I assure you, his arse isn't flat like that."
" Pansy."
"Oh, shush. Why can't you just admit you want to shag him?"
"We've been through this, it's irrelevant."
"Whatever you say. Just, go get yourself ready, I'll keep him under control. They'll be here in a half an hour."
"Pansy-"
"I've got this, Granger. Go."
Pansy never calls her by her last name anymore, unless she means business. So, she smiles weakly before making her way to her room.
Her parents come in through the seldom used front door promptly at three thirty. Lemonade and cucumber sandwiches await them on the living room coffee table.
"It's lovely, Hermione!" her mother gushes.
"The decor and styling is all Pansy," she tells her, "I'm not very good with tying rooms together."
"Oh, Hermione, do my ears deceive me or are you saying I'm superior to you in skill?"
The Grangers stare in awe at the force to be reckoned with that is Pansy Parkinson.
"Pleasure to meet you both in person, finally. I'm Pansy." She extends her hand to them.
"Jean," her mother introduces, clutching Pansy's fingers and giving them a light squeeze.
"George," her father follows his wife's lead.
"Welcome to our humble home, Mr. Mrs. Granger. Please, sit, have some finger sandwiches while we wait for dinner."
Her parents take a seat on the sofa and Hermione chooses the armchair. Pansy is the picture perfect Pureblood hostess as she perches on the edge of the chaise cushion with her legs crossed and Hermione snorts to herself.
"Trying to summon pigs again, Granger?" Draco chooses then to pass through the door and join the rest of them.
"Looks like it worked," she teased.
Pansy shakes her head at them and the Grangers laugh at Hermione's joke.
"Draco Malfoy," he declares, coming around to her parents.
"I'm George," her father asserts, holding out his hand and looking more alert and on edge than he did with Pansy.
Draco gives it a firm shake.
"Jean," her mother sighs, holding out her hand.
Being the posh git he is, he takes her mother's hand and brushes his lips against her knuckles.
"Delighted to meet you both," he releases Jean's hand gently and plops onto the arm of Hermione's chair.
"Hermione, I didn't know you had a gentleman flatmate," Jean says delicately, watching her husband's facial expressions.
"Oh, I don't live here, Mrs. Granger," he corrects politely, "but I find myself here more often than not."
Malfoy knocks his leg against Hermione's and she rolls her eyes at him before smiling.
"He won't go," she grumbles.
"Forgive me for my assumption."
Draco beams at her. "Think nothing of it, Mrs. Granger."
They chatter lightly, Jean's focus clearly going back and forth between Hermione and Draco, until a timer in the kitchen goes off.
Hermione and Draco go into the kitchen to take the roast and potatoes from the oven and get the dinnerware.
She comes back with plates and silverware; he's behind her with glasses.
She begins to set the table while Draco places the glasses down.
Pansy is in a deep conversation with her father and her mother wanders over to her.
"I'm so proud of you, Hermione."
She grins. "Thanks mum. I feel so much better and being here in my own place has really helped me in moving on from Ron and coping with everything else."
"Mmm. I'll say. Draco seems much better for you than Ron."
Hermione is frozen. George looks over Pansy's shoulder at them and Jean lowers her voice a little, "I honestly think he's more good looking too."
A plate slips from her grasp the sound draws all eyes to her.
"M-malfoy, can you help me in the kitchen? I've just remembered I left a few things behind."
He arches a brow, but follows her when the swinging door shuts, she turns on her heel.
"My family thinks we're dating."
He laughs but when he sees the look on her face, he stops.
"Oh, you're serious."
" Of course I'm serious," she hisses.
"Ah, I was wondering why your father was glaring daggers at me when I sat beside you."
"Yes, well, my mother seems to have formed the opinion that you're much better for me than Ron and more good looking."
His lips break into a devilish grin and he stalks toward her, trapping her against the counter.
"And do you share your mother's opinions of me?"
She feels her face heating up. "She- she's not completely off."
"Granger," he growls, leaning toward her, "do you think I'm good looking?"
She can't help her eyes falling to his mouth; he's so close.
"I- You- Well, you're attractive-"
He doesn't let her finish telling him what she thinks. He crushes himself against her, kissing her bruisingly.
Her hands fly to the nape of his neck, scraping her fingers up into his hair; his arms are around her, hands sliding down to rest on her lower back.
Pansy's laugh from the dining room makes him jump away from her.
"Granger, get in there before I bend you over where you stand."
His brazenness shocks her slightly, but she smooths her hair and brushes off her shirt before bursting into the dining room, carrying nothing.
"Dinner will be out in just a moment," she announces calmly. The plate that crashed to the floor had been mended and placed on the table with the others.
As if on cue, Draco appears behind her, carrying the roast.
Pansy and Jean go into the kitchen to retrieve the potatoes and broccoli and once everything is on the table and everyone is seated, the water glasses fill themselves.
"Tuck in!"
Hermione can't seem to stop herself from looking at Draco; his expression is wolfish.
It's almost as if she could hear his voice in her head
I intend to.
Dinner and dessert with her visiting parents should be a happy event, but Hermione cannot keep herself calm.
Draco isn't helping in the least bit; small touches and looks throughout the evening have her on edge. Her father looks a bit red in his face, her mother (and Pansy) look entirely too smug.
By the end of the night, she's ready to burst. After a long goodbye, promises of another visit before they go back to Australia, the door closes on her parents back.
She walks in the dining room to see Pansy, smiling too brightly.
"I'll take care of what's left in the kitchen, Hermione. Why don't you go lie down?"
"You know, Pans, for a Slytherin, you're shite at being cunning."
"Language, Granger. Although, I'm sure I'll be hearing much worse from your mouth once you're behind that door, so, if you don't want me listening, use a silencing charm."
She disappears into the kitchen and leaves Hermione staring down the hall at her bedroom door.
It taunts her.
Get a grip, Granger. It's just Malfoy. You're not some blushing virgin.
She stomps down the hall before she can lose her determination.
The door is barely closed before he's pushing her up against it, kissing her the same way he had in the kitchen.
"Granger, I've been thinking about doing that for the last six months," he confesses, once he pulls away.
"Just that?" She's breathless.
He moves so fast that she blinks and she's on her bed. Her clothes vanish, appearing folded on her desk.
"Malfoy!"
With a snap of his fingers, his clothes join hers.
"I'll take my time unwrapping you next time, Princess."
He dives between her thighs and she's lost; the few partners she had never went down on her the first time (or many times after for that matter).
Draco knows exactly what he's doing with his tongue; so much so that she's surprised by her fast approaching orgasm.
He slides two fingers inside and curls them, groans against her when he feels her walls clenching already.
"Come for me," he commands.
And she does. She's momentarily in shock.
So the rumours at school were true, then!
He pulls away after one final suck on her clit and hovers over her.
"Where do you like to be when you come on a cock, Granger?"
His tone is teasing but the look in his eye lets her know he wants her to answer.
"On my knees," she gives him a challenging look.
His breath leaves his chest in a rush. "Roll over, right now. You'll be the death of me, witch."
She laughs and rolls, setting herself on her knees and arching her back.
"Perfect," he's muttering, rubbing his hands over her arse, "so bloody perfect, just like I knew you'd be."
He lines up, rubbing himself through her folds to coat himself, and then slides in slowly.
" Merlin," he hisses.
"No, just me," she quips.
He smacks her left cheek. "Swot."
She chokes when he's fully in- it's been a while since she had sex and he felt bigger.
"Alright, sweetheart?"
"Mm, yes, you're just, uh, what I mean is-"
"I know I'm well endowed, Granger," he laughs, "I'll give you a moment."
She squeezes her inner muscles and he makes a strained noise. "Cocky git."
He bends over her back and reaches around to rub at her. She gasps and starts to squirm against him.
"Indeed I am."
He continues to play with her and she's on the brink of breaking.
"Malfoy, if you don't start moving I'll-"
He slides back and slams into her, setting a punishing pace.
"How's that? Good enough for you, Princess."
"Yes," she manages, pressing her face into the duvet.
He grabs her hair, pulls her upright with her back against his front and an arm across her chest to keep her there, never faltering.
"I knew you'd like it hard, Granger. I knew you'd need it fast and bruising."
She clenches, another orgasm building.
"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me again. I want to feel you squeeze my cock."
Her walls flutter again; his words, his voice, his brutal pace- she couldn't stop herself from coming even if she wanted to.
"Say my name, Granger; let the neighbours know who's making you come."
Two more thrusts and she's crying out. " Draco!"
He moves his arm, letting her fall forward and grips her hips hard enough to leave marks and keeps going, helping her ride out her orgasm as he goes barreling through his.
" Fuck, Hermione!"
He collapses onto her but is careful to put a hand on either side of her to support his weight.
He rolls them both to their sides, fitting himself with the curve of her.
She looks over her shoulder at him. "I can't believe we didn't do that sooner."
"There have been times where I've wanted to grab you and bend you over the closest available surface."
She laughs at him.
"And I mean it, Princess. Next time, I'm going to devour you- slowly."
"Mmm, I'll take you up on that."
He nuzzles into her neck, pressing a kiss under her jaw.
Maybe it would be alright if Draco did live here.