This story just sort of came to me. Please review if you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or other references to the original work of J.K Rowling. Only my own mistakes

-o-o-o-

Hermione almost jumped with glee when she received a letter from Hogwarts, only this time, she wasn't about to find out she was a witch. This time, she had been invited to Hogwarts to speak to the students, not about the war, no, but about her career, how she had ended up where she was - on a glowing path to becoming the next Minister of Magic.

She was not one to show off, but if there was something in her life she took pride in, it was her work.

The war had ended four years ago, it had forced her to grow up fast, take responsibility even faster. It had also, temporarily, and effectively knocked her off her path for an entire year post-war. For a while she had simply lost side of herself, who she was, what she stood for. Without the adrenaline coursing through her veins from war time, she was left feeling empty, lonely and desperate for another adrenaline high. It had led her down the path of cigarettes, cocaine and bad habits. The only habit she had kept until now was cigarettes. Her one vice she was not to give up easily on.

Another something she picked up during that year was a yeast infection, most likely from having had to much mind blowing sex. She had never explored that freely before, and it had felt truly empowering. In a way, it had acutually helped her find her way back to a new self, a post-war Hermione Granger - and it had all been by the efforts of a man, a wizard in fact, the bad sort. The sort with blonde hair, a pointy face and an oh so good tongue.

She had simply been a woman, he a man, and they had dutifully shagged each others brains out, for several months. It helped her survive when she was no longer fighting darkness on a daily basis. She'd been eager to explore another side of her, a side that was born the minute the war had ended.

How people went back to themselves, as they were pre-war, made no sense to her. She had been forever changed, and so apparently had Draco Malfoy, that was how they found comfort in each other. Both destroyed and scarred in different ways, and unknowingly they helped each other pick together pieces of themselves. Discovering new pieces were the old ones no longer fit.

It had been pure physical though, some emotions were involved surely, but none that either of them confessed to. Whatever it was that they had, it ended abruptly when Hermione had been offered a position with the Ministry of Magic, he on the other hand, had left for Scotland, where he effectively had taken over part of his father's business.

They hadn't spoken since- and they were both rather fine with that.

Not that she would ever admit it, but no one had ever measured up since. Not even Ron.

To say she was startled when he walked through the doors of the Great Hall, dressed in an emerald green dress shirt, with black dress pants and dragon hide boots, would be an understatement. She choked on the celebratory champagne she'd been offered from McGonogall, headmistress of Hogwarts, letting out a low whimper. His hair was still white as snow, and he had certainly aged well. His feauteres appeard less pointy, more sharp, clean edges. His shoulders broad, legs long.

Was it even possible for him to look so damn good?

She coughed away the champagne in her throat, and that's when he caught her eye.

The look alone was enough to make her underwear wet. Those grey eyes, with specks of ice blue. She remembered how they looked those few seconds before he reached ecstasy. Remembered how they used to be glued to her when she undressed, and the satisfied sounds he made when he reached down between her legs to find her wet. Ready for him.

Fuck. This was not good, this was in fact very very bad. She was a respectable woman now, not the lost girl she'd been the last time they'd met. Therefore, she straightened her back and crossed her legs.

Luckily, she wasn't married yet, she was single as of three months ago, when Ron and her had decided to go back to friends. It had all been very painful and refreshing at the same time, and it effectively allowed her to focus solely on her career at the Ministry.

Why has he here?

She felt a hand on her shoulder. McGonogall's. The headmistress looked at her with pensive eyes, interpreting Hermione's reaction as something different. She only knew the bad story they had together, the one where he bullied her and called her names. She had no knowledge of the many things he called her when she was writhing underneath him. Oh, the way he-.

Her thoughts were interrupted. "I did mention I invited Mr Malfoy as well did I not? Oh well, I invited you both since you have such successful career, in hope of inspiring our students to intriguing career paths."

"I thought he was working for his father?" she asked, trying to sound respectful. Not bothering to mention she had in fact not been informed.

"Oh no, not since two years ago, Mr Malfoy works with his own organization now, diplomatic relations, post war efforts. Surely you must have heard of his work at the Ministry? D.M Unity?"

D.M Unity. Of course she had heard of it. But she had no idea it was Draco's. The D and the M should have tipped her off though. The diplomatic efforts that had been made by D.M Unity had been highly praised at the Ministry, it had aided them in more ways than one to mend wounds post war. Hermione was stunned.

Maybe even, impressed?

Draco had been assigned a seat at the Professors' table, far away from her. She exhaled, because she was unsure of how his proximity might affect her, but at the same time she wished he had been seated closer. She glanced in his direction more times than deemed appropriate, and she never once caught him looking at her.

What. A. Prat.

Surely they never claimed friendship, or romance of any kind. But they had been intimate in many ways, and for that she at least deserved a polite nod. At least.

McGonagall being the headmistress, welcomed her and Draco to Hogwarts and announced that they would each be speaking about their respective career before the Hallows eve feast on Saturday. Hermione had arrived today, Thursday, and was to stay until Sunday.

Hermione looked out at the sea of students, and for a moment nostalgia hit her hard in the chest. There had been a time when she had been seated there, at the Gryffindor table. A time when she'd been full of dreams and hope that eventually had been clouded by the looming war and the threat of her life, of everyones life that she held dear.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Also remembering the final battle, the time she had seen the lives lost, placed in rows that never seemed to end, right on the very floor the students now rested their feet. It felt absurd, she felt a sudden need to throw up and cry at the same time.

She never imagined being seated at the Professors' table in the Great Hall could be so emotional. When dinner was over she felt drained and hurried outside for a long overdue cigarette.

-o-o-o-

Hermione perched on a bench, mostly hidden from view of nosy students. She lit the cigarette and when she felt the nicotine reach her head, calmness swept over her. Finally could breathe again.

Images flashed inside of her mind. Images of him.That one time they had done it in front of the big window in his London flat, and that other time he'd tied her up and done wicked things with his tongue. Oh God that tongue.

"Figured I could find you here." Draco chuckled at the sight of her. Desperately puffing at her cigarette, with a puzzled look on her face. Her brown curly hair was tamed, shiny. The freckles on her nose allured him, made him want to plant kisses on her nose, along her jawline, further down …

He licked his lips absentmindedly. Hermione Granger. She looked older, more mature in a black appropriate dress and sensible heels. She was a sight for sore eyes.

Draco was unsure though, he had heard she had ended up with the Weasel, and frankly it had both surprised him and also not. He had wondered if the red-haired git had been able to make her moan the way he had. He doubted it wholeheartedly.

Draco had known she would be there, it had been one of the reasons he had so politely accepted McGonogall's invitation. In honesty, it had been the only reason.

Her brown eyes looked up at him, shocked, pleased? He remembered other times when her fiery brown eyes had gazed up on him. Then length between his legs twitched.

Control, he disciplined himself.

Hermione realised she hadn't answered him, she'd been occupied by drowning in his eyes. She cleared her throat and tossed the cigarette aside. Biting her bottom lip.

"I have a room at the Three broomsticks," she said, words pouring out of her mouth, evidently an invitation, sounding wrong coming out of her mouth. She was climbing for the Minister of Magic position after all. But the way he looked at her, had her melting already. His eyes radiated pure lust a promise of pleasure, and she was all for it.

Her words shocked him. No exchanging pleasantries? He quickly decided if this was the route she wanted to take, he would gladly go down it with her.

"Coincidentally, so do I," he said, and not so much reached for her hand, but grabbed it. Hard. As soon as they stepped outside the gates they disapparated to the front door of the Three Broomsticks, there was no time to waste.

They both wanted the same thing.

-o-o-o-

Next chapter will contain a lot of smut, so be aware!

Please note that this story is also being uploaded under the same pen-name at AO3, if that is your site of preference. :)