Here's part 3! Smut heavy.
Enjoy!
Part 3
The toddlers birthday party had been cute and simple. Balloons, magical confetti, Molly's baked goods, and Harrys Dragon Punch were all the rave for the children. The adults had their own stash of champagne, wine, and butter beer at their disposal as onlookers.
It was awkward to say the least. Hermione had avoided interacting with anyone beyond work colleagues besides Harry, Ginny, her parents, and the three uneventful men she attempted to date for nearly three years.
Hermione appreciated that Draco ceased to leave her side the entire night. It was almost like he sensed she didn't want to be ambushed in a social setting that raised a hidden sense of anxiety in her, even though they were mostly herfriends, her family.
He grabbed her a glass of sparkling wine and stole some fire whisky from Harry's hidden bar. He included her as he maneuvered seamlessly through the party. Andromeda was there with some relatives Hermione didn't recognize but, Draco introduced her anyway.
Occasionally, with his sizable hand glued to her lower back, she'd lean in with a more than eager submission as he whispered in her ear throughout the night,"Are you feeling well? Are you comfortable? Stop thinking so much. More wine?"
She always nodded to more wine. It was what softened her inhibitions.
Ginny had been right. He was great with kids. Teddy nearly trampled Draco when they first stepped into Grimmauld place, gifts in hand, with an innocent glee. It sparked an unsettling feeling inside of Hermione watching Draco Malfoy lift the boy in his arms and twirl him in the air before sprinkling his head with kisses.
Then, when Ron eventually graced Grimmauld Place with his fiancé, her heart dropped momentarily. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't built up the moment in her head because Trisha Buttermere was a gem. She was talkative, short, round, and suited Ron very well. She never imagined admitting it to herself but after meeting Trisha, it made sense Ron would end up with someone like her. She was a gentle soul and welcomed Hermione with open arms, even inviting her to a brunch date with Ginny.
Greeting Ron had been as stiff and unpleasant as you'd expect. Thankfully Ginny, Harry, and Draco eased the tension substantially and were able to co-exist with no issue. It helped that she felt protected with Draco the most, not even fully conscious to how their proximity and hushed giggling may have appeared to an outsider. She almost forgot why she didn't want to attend the party in the first place.
Until Ron pulled her to the side the one time Draco excused himself to use the loo.
He was brief and told her she looked well and mentioned he had been a bit confused seeing her with Draco, to which she immediately corrected their dynamic as strictly work platonic. To sum up the two minute conversation, he asked if he could stop by her office sometime regarding professional advice. She agreed without giving it any thought because despite everything, she missed his friendship.
Her break-up with Ron had been one of the worse things that happened to her. One Saturday afternoon, he sat her down in their shared bedroom at the Burrow, and told her he was no longer invested in their relationship.
After four years together.
She had been living with him in his childhood home since completing her final year at Hogwarts following the conclusion of the war. When she began working at the Ministry, they'd become lost with time. Eventually, they fell into a modus operandi of simply existing as bodies warming their bed at night, disagreeing over frivolous little things, and resenting each other.
Hermione had moved out without a word even though he never asked her to. At first, she thought if she gave him space, he'd realize his mistake and come running back to her.
Then, one day, she overheard her colleagues in the break room discussing seeing Ron with a mystery woman. That was the tipping point for her year long emotional shut down. She never gave anyone an explanation or said goodbye to the Weasleys. It was too humiliating for her. It felt like Ron had betrayed her because he was supposed to end up with her, chase her.
All those promise filled kisses of forever had turned to ash in her throat. So she left. She took everything she ever owned, purchased a flat somewhere in Wizarding London, and pep talked her own mirror reflection that she was going focus on her career.
In retrospect, she should have seen it coming. That frolicsome spark of adolescence had vanished as they grew into different people.
Now, here she was, stumbling into her opulent mid-rise flat with Draco Malfoy behind her after regurgitating her entire stream of consciousness. At some point, struggling to remember when, they'd left the children's birthday bash and drunkenly wandered around London.
Neither felt confident enough to apparate due to fear of splinching so, after much bickering, they stumbled upon a mini pub in a small wizarding community. Draco challenged her on something she couldn't recall was worth ingesting seven more drinks over. She lost track of time, spilled her soul to him, and in a slurred stupor, Draco offered to Floo her home safely.
There was some more bickering about Floo powder, something about work until Draco impatiently wrapped his arm around her and pressed her against him in the small space of the hearth, allowing the fiery verdant soot to propel them to a new destination.
They were giggling as they tumbled forward into the cool air of her living room.
"Granger," Draco was still recovering from laughing so hard. "I don't think either of us are mentally adequate to draft up a gag order."
Hermione carelessly tossed her heels off and discarded her outer robes. "You promised. You said if I chugged that entire glass of Ogden's finest, you'd help."
"That was before you made me finish that awful glass of red currant rum," He took one long drag toward her. His eyes were clouded over. "And you're drunk. Do you even know where you are?"
"Diagon Alley," She teased with a poke to his chest. His face was so close to her. God, had his face always been this pleasant to look at? The way his eyes lazily watched her features lit her skin on fire. She turned away almost guiltily from the thoughts that threatened to form. "Make yourself comfortable."
She needed to put some distance between them.
She walked to hang their robes in the coat closet to shake off the steam he made her feel. When she closed the door and looked back up at him she found him with arms akimbo, a dazed expression as he took in her home.
She watched him with intrigue. He had the look of someone who'd often thought about what her intimate dwelling would look like. His lips twitched in thought while he slowly appeared to memorize every little detail.
"Were you expecting a hole in the wall?" She suddenly felt insecure. Damn the liquor and how it spurred a mess of emotions.
He shook his head. "No. You make a decent salary. I expected something a little bigger for you."
It was a 1,700 square foot flat which she had gotten a fantastic deal on.
"I suppose everything appears smaller living in a massive manor."
He chuckled. The dark vibrato from his throat spurred something deep in her.
"You're also a small person." He walked slowly in her direction.
"Don't let my height fool you." Hermione puffed out her chest, attempting to appear intimidatingly taller with a pout dressing her expression.
The hum of his laugh again.
He dropped his forehead against her and she froze. His eyes were closed. He sighed. "Maybe I'm the drunk one. I don't think I'm going to make it, Granger."
His whiskey spiked breath consumed her senses. What was left of it, at-least. At what point had his long arms caged her in and she'd been backed against her living room wall?
Her eyes idly swam up along the buttons of his shirt. She pretended to smooth his collar and give her mind something to do since she was slowly losing control of it.
"As your overseer, I might have no choice but to take disciplinary action." Why did that sound so seductive? She only meant to appear daunting.
His eyes snapped open. One of his hands planted against the wall moved to her shoulder, clasping it gently. The fatigue was leaving him, replaced with something new.
"I see you still want me trembling for you."
His voice, so deep.
Her lips parted, a heavy breath leaving her body unable to respond.
An eyebrow raised, barely widening one of his blue-grey eyes. The hand on her shoulder slid up to cup her neck until a simple finger traced her jaw and caressed her bottom lip.
She shuddered. She stilled for a long second as he watched her, possibly expecting her to slump forward. She knew that look, what his body wanted.
Gods, the wished she'd taken a sobering potion. Everything was beginning to spill over.
Because I've craved it longer than I admit. Craved you, Draco. And I want to tear my hair out for it.
"As have I, you clever woman." He mumbled with a satisfied rasp. "But please, don't. I've grown fond of that wild bushy mane of yours."
Her stomach, lower than that, pulsed. She almost told him to stay out of her head again. But, he had insinuated he could read her like a book. The same way she absorbed all of his subliminal little oddities.
It was when she closed her eyes to steady her rapid pulse and unsteady breath he took advantage, pressing his lips against hers.
Hermione accommodated the intrusion and nipped his lower lip. They were so soft. Softer than she expected and he growled, deepening the kiss with a desperate inhale, breathing her into him like he would never have this opportunity again.
The taste of his last drink filled her mouth. It was pleasant on him, and she welcomed it with a flick of her own tongue as it met his. Draco's hand dipped down to her waist, pressed his chest to hers, tasting her, drinking everything she had to offer him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly, his broad looming figure had her on her toes.
Both of Dracos wandering hands curved over her backside and kneaded her there so hard, he almost lifted her off the ground. "This is too bloody perfect." He grinned against her lips, referring to her bum.
"Mmmm." She moaned against his mouth. She turned around mischievously, her back meeting his chest. She was so bold, it should have frightened her. Instead, her shaking hand reached behind to slither her fingers through his hair and opened her neck up to him.
His vocal satisfaction when he sunk his teeth into the curb of her neck was the catalyst for the dry grinding of her hips against his. His large hands guided her with a bruising grip, ensuring she felt exactly just how hard she had him.
She bit her lip hard. It felt amazing. It was a carnal excitement she hadn't felt in so long.
In a few swift movements, they made it onto her velvet settee sofa. Hermione's skirt inched up around her waist as she straddled him. Her raring, knicker-covered clit rocked against the stiff swell of his erection.
She could feel his finger nails leaving crescent moon marks on the plush flesh of her arse and it only encouraged her to snog him deeper, taste his neck, listen to his manly mewls.
It should have felt wrong. Kissing the beautiful, sometimes neurotic, man beneath her had Hermione heavy and restless for something dark. It was an amalgamation of the liquor and years of tension that coursed her veins and plagued her senses.
She felt the twitch of his sweltering hard length suffocated in his trousers and her tongue reached out to lick his earlobe, earning her a red-hot hiss. She giggled, completely delighted by her sexual power.
Draco carded his fingers into her hair and roughly forced her to look at him as he murmured. "You've got me trembling for you just the way I knew that cheeky little mind of yours wanted."
That tone.
One that could rattle the entire building complex.
"You did say you love a woman on top."
He growled as he crushed his lips against hers, ripping her blouse open with one hand as the other glided and smoothed over her calf, squeezing every inch of her milky leg until he found his way under her skirt.
Her breath was harsh when she unintentionally arched into him as he rubbed circles over her silk covered mound. Her knickers were soaked through. She knew she would have combusted in embarrassment had she been sober.
But she wasn't.
His talented mouth left a heated trail of saliva as he sucked and glided over the curve of her breasts. His essence turned to a pleasurable chill that made the hairs on her arms turn to gooseflesh
"Shite." Gasped Hermione when Draco cupped her breast with a wielded admiration.
"Dirty little mouth." He purred though bared teeth while he pulled a single breast from her bralette and drank the hardened dark nub with a ravenous hunger.
Hermione shivered. She dragged her clit harder against him, frustrated with their sewn barriers.
Clutching him by his jaw, she guided his swollen lips back to her mouth. His flavor was everything she had ever felt. He was everything she could ever feel, any other sensations paling in comparison.
Just as she'd begun undoing his shirt and relishing in the warmth of his bare, broad shoulders, a high pitched scratching noise gradually made its way to the forefront of her mind. It took everything in her to pull away and assess whether or not she was going mad—more than she had dry humping Draco Malfoy.
Draco mindlessly rubbed circles over the tops of her thighs as he listened, too. "Is that—"
"Crooks," Hermione's head dropped in utter disappointment. How could she forget about her one and only companion? He must have locked himself in the bathroom again. She was going to lose it if she saw more scratch marks on the door. "He's a true menace."
Draco exhaled, nuzzling her cheek. "Go on. I'll be right here."
Hermione adjusted her bra and skirt as she stood up and went to release her half-kneazel from his self-proclaimed, finely renovated, prison cell. The feline purred as it left and she checked the door. She was going to have to restore it with a quick repairing spell tomorrow. She turned off the light to the restroom and shut the door.
Resting her back against the wall, blouse still split open, she took a moment to process what just happened. She chastised herself, but didn't have the mental will to cipher any of it. She was exhausted now and her sexual buzz had subsided.
Eyes closed, she paced her breathing, rallying herself to the tempo of her heart settling.
"Granger," Draco startled her, hands by his sides. "I should go."
No.
She reached out for him, hand wrapped around his forearm. The catharsis of the gesture eased the tension plastered around his shoulders. He was out of his element. That beautifully bright hair mussed about all because of her needy hands, his shirt crumpled and half undone because of her rashness, and his lean muscles bruised with teeth marks all because of her greed.
She didn't know exactly what she wanted right now. But, she knew that for some reason, she didn't want him to go.
"You don't have to."
"You don't need to spare my feelings. I read people for a living."
"Oh honestly, Draco. You're not always only high and haughty sneers. Just be your charming wonderful self and don't leave me all alone in this flat that is evidently too small for me."
He was astonished. At what part of what she'd said, she wasn't sure. She could barely tell whether or not she was being coherent. The final stages of alcohol consumption weighed on her.
"Either I'm sloshed or you just called me wonderful."
"It's true." Her voice was strained. "I can't count how many times in the last year your intentional nettling turned into a learning lesson."
"I can't be too surprised that's the way to Hermione Grangers swotty little heart."
She smiled softy, her grip on his arm tightening.
Please, stay.
He stood unmoving, one tired eyebrow raised in her direction. He contemplated, she could see, before accepting her hand and capitulating to her bequest.
Together, falling into the plush of her mattress, their limbs tangled. His arm secured around her from behind and his breath tickled her ear as she drifted far away from her mind, and closer to him.
.
.
.
.
The weekend coursed by and it was Wednesday. Hermione had managed to avoid Draco for exactly four days. She hadn't seen him since Saturday morning. As she'd awoken, her head throbbed until she came to her senses and the memories came flooding back. She had bounced out of bed like a wild kangaroo, and rushed to gulp down a vial of sobering potion.
Draco didn't seem bothered by her reaction as he could barely form any words in the early peels of morning. He observed her, pieced her together like a jigsaw puzzle, and had made his way out of her flat, seemingly coming to a mental compromise that he should leave her to her own self-destruction.
By Tuesday, the aftershocks of apprehensiveness subsided and it distressingly occurred to her that she missed him. She was left with an empty feeling. A loss that he hadn't challenged her, come looking to strike her with that curled smirk and astute tongue. All she'd thought about the last days were him. She couldn't stop replaying how he caressed her body, how he kissed her with a searing mania that reduced her to a liquid state of delirious zeal.
Certainly, he noticed she'd locked herself in her office and put in maximum effort to evade interacting with him. She even charged Angela with keeping her updated with the Auror Offices and it had been working out fine.
For now.
With two out-turned palms pushed down against her desk, she exhaled deeply, standing on the opposite side of her desk, back facing the door to her office. She had a spread of work to revise from the Obliviator Headquarters.
One more hour, a meeting with Ron, and she would relieve herself early for once.
Oh, Ron.
Had she failed epically at relationships because of sex? Ron had been her first sexual experience but, she couldn't recall a toe-curling memory nearly equivalent to the light Draco's lips and skin illuminated. Mclaggen never invoked much of a heat within her their one night together. It had been stale with minimal foreplay and a terrible lapse in judgment. The other two men she dated didn't even make it past hand holding.
She wondered if there was something wrong with her. The ending of her relationship with Ron had done a number on her heartstrings. She thought maybe she had been too virginal, vulnerable with him. With the others after, too rigid. She chalked it up to compatibility.
Then, under the influence of far too many drinks, she'd let go for Draco.
But, once the inebriating substance left her body the morning after, fight, flight, or freeze kicked in and she quite literally iced him out.
Vulnerable to rigid. Is there an in-between?
Or maybe she had just made the mistake in almost having sex with her employee—Draco Malfoy, a former Hogwarts peer, the man she should have never begun to grow fond of.
There wasn't a shred of shame in her, though.
Perhaps Draco had been correct about her. She had awful taste in men. She was a dunce, an idiot, clueless when it came to love. She was beginning to resign herself to the idea that she just wasn't designed for that sort of happiness, not even sex.
Click.
The metal clink of a door locking brought her mind current. There was a foreboding feeling she knew who it was and she wanted to kill her secretary for letting him slip through the cracks.
You were doing so well, Angela.
Maybe if she pretended he wasn't there, he'd leave and pretend he was never there.
Oh, but she should have known better when a familiar torridness ensnared her backside.
"You're impossible, you know?" His voice would be her undoing.
Hermione turned her body to face him. His proximity almost knocked her over. She masked the surprise on her face, her jaw clenching in irritation. "M-mister Malfoy. Angela is under clear orders to not permit anyone into my offic—"
"I've been aware of that for about sixty-three hours now." He interrupted, bringing an intentional hand to brush her hair back. He softly pulled a curl and watched it bounce back to its shape. "I would've given you all the time in the world to…reconcile with yourself."
There was a moment that she should have pulled away or told him to leave. She found herself unable to move, unable to leave him.
"But, there's one problem, Granger. I've been a patient man," Hermione watched as his eyes dropped to her lips."And I'm not a very patient man."
She swallowed nervously.
"Maybe we should talk about it." Hermione could feel her face reddening.
"Go on then." He near laughed at her, not quite cruel. "If it'll make you feel better."
What was that supposed to mean?
"I mean," Draco drawled. "If having a clear conversation about Friday night will help that over-sized brain of yours rest, then I'll listen."
He had to be invading her mind. Was she really that forthcoming?
"I-I…" Hermione sputtered. How pathetic. She needed to slow down the rapid fire thoughts of her brain. "It was highly inappropriate of me to take advantage of you like that. I crossed the line. It won't happen again."
"Granger." Draco snorted. "You never fail to torment me."
She opened her mouth to speak but he put a halt to it.
"We're far too old for this," He started with a testy edge. Two arms came around either side of her. She was hypersensitive to the tapered placement of his hands at her waist. "I want you."
Enamored blues took hold of brown and didn't let go.
"I wanted you on Friday. I've wanted you every day before that since we begun working at the Ministry. I thought you wanted the same but were just too stubborn to ever act on it. I assumed I dropped enough hints. Teaching you everything there was to know about my Department. Convincing Kingsley to put you to a case that would catapult a monumental trend on the political legacy you want to leave—on the legacy I know you will leave in your stead. Giving you candid advice about your tragic love-life. Having your tea brewed and exactly the way you like each morning."
"Angela handles my tea."
"Who do you think instructed her to do so?"
That surprised her. She just assumed Angela was only going above and beyond to impress her.
Hermione was quiet, lips parted, the bubbling need to relearn how to breath ready to overtake her.
"I thought," Draco swiped his lower lip with his tongue. "'She's smart enough. She'll come around. She'll see you've tried to atone yourself all for her.'"
There was a grating thought on her mind. As much as he attempted to plaster an inert halo around his confession, he made himself openly pregnable. She could see it behind those bone-chilling blue-grey narrowed eyes.
The power that Hermione could hurt him.
He'd been harboring feelings for her.
When did the idea of hurting Draco become actuated by real emotion? There was a thread of sameness that stitched them together and it defied all sense of two people who were supposed to hate each other.
The problem was that hate and love weren't opposites.
Apathy was the opposite of hate.
And there was anything but the absence of emotion for the man standing in-front of her.
"However," Draco's eyes slithered to a softness. "I've questioned my abilities to judge a situation these last few days. So, here I am."
Judgement. Judgement is what was keeping him at the Ministry.
She licked her lips. She couldn't look him in the eye. She turned her head away, avoiding the advance. It was too much. She wanted to jump his bones in that very moment, so she twisted and her back was once again to him.
"You should have courted me for dinner, tea—a date. Why didn't you?"
"Due to our less than pleasant past, I knew you distrusted me." His upper lip grazed so close to the cartilage of her ear, it caused the small hairs at the back of her neck to rise. He left no room for a draft of air to pass between them as he inched her back closer to his chest. "You would have regarded my intentions with suspicion."
"Oh." She whimpered. She really was pathetic. She couldn't even control herself for one minute. His cognitive accuracy of her had Hermione melting like chocolate in a hot fountain.
Damn you, Draco. Why was he always right about me?
He kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder.
A peck of appreciation.
Her hips absentmindedly ground against him, reveling in being the sole cause of the hardening beneath his trousers once more.
What did she have to lose at this point? The things this man made her feel when just moments ago she accepted sexless, spouseless solitude.
"I have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes with Ron." She breathed desperately. "I'll leave my Floo network open for you at my flat."
His free hand traced her side with a possessive gratefulness. She gasped as his head craned over the front of her shoulder and she reached back, finding his jaw as she turned her neck enough to kiss him.
"I'll come to you," He broke their kiss. "Only if you tell me what you did to Skeeter."
Hermione opened her eyes. She was finally giving into him. "Is this really the time for negotiations?"
A devilish smirk.
He was cooking something up in his mind and it was a little exciting, if she were honest.
"Would you let me fuck you? Right here, on this desk?"
Gods.
She would.
She had to be strong.
"We can't." She sighed with a weak quip. "I told you I have a meeting."
"I don't need to negotiate." He pressed a dry kiss to her temple. "I could lick you, taste you until you submit to what I want."
This man would ruin her with his dirty, knicker drenching mouth.
Her hand slid between them behind her. Just a squeeze to hold her over and—oh, the size. Why had she held back from him for so long, again? All rationality seemed to dither away when he was near. What did that mean for them?
She'd worry about exactly what they were after he relieved her built up tension.
Draco eased his hands under her knee-length mock flare dress, stealing a handful of her breasts before she felt him drop to his knees behind her. The crisp air hit her as he bared her bum and took two mouthful bites of each cheek.
She squealed excitedly and a hand crept between her legs, nudging her to open wide and bend forward. She couldn't help the blush that overcame her from the view he had of her arse. She had little time to process the sensations before he yanked her knickers to the side and burrowed into her wet, sensitive flesh.
She rested her forearms on her desk to open herself up to him while Draco delivered a slow lick to her clit. His tongue lapped at her entrance and she jumped when he switched to sweep up and down her dripping slit.
"Tasty little cunt." His praise was muffled by her own flesh. The vibrato echoed through her labia, heightening the filthy way his hands held her open and invaded her pulsing clit. She loved it more than she expected.
His lips puckered as he slowed his sinful ministrations. Hermione moaned and pushed back against the lazy way his lips teased her before closing his mouth over the entire nub and sucking the plump flesh hard.
"Draco." She trembled. It was all she could say. He was perfect.
His tongue sliced through the soft satin of her arousal, sipping her essence until he let a finger slip inside her channel. Her wanton desires monopolized every fibre of her being. Every squelching sound of her honey and satisfied growl over the sensitive ripple of flesh wrecked through her walls. She was on the precipice of falling.
"Ah, ah." Draco relinquished her pleasure suddenly, fingers leaving with his mouth. She had been so close to toppling over the edge. "I'm waiting for you to answer." He peppered open mouth kisses against the back of her thighs, her arse, punctuating each word, barely skimming where she wanted him again.
"I only have a few minutes." Hermione whined. She arched her back to reach him, his breath a scorching torture where is tongue had just been.
What would people think of her? Bent over her desk, irrecoverable to the fact that Draco Malfoy was feasting on her cunt from behind?
"Then you mustn't waste valuable time." He stretched his tongue over her gorged clit as his hands smoothed over her spine and the span of her lower back that curved down to the soft pillows of her arse. "Mmmmm, such a simple solution."
Hermione fought for her sanity as much as she fought for her air. Why was his tongue so evil and good at the same time?
Two fingers traced around her lips and parted the doors to the bundle of nerves in praise. He blew gently over it. "Come on, Granger." Index and middle moved halfway inside of her before he pulled them out and heard him suck them dry, sanctifying her taste.
It was agonizing.
"I'm blackmailing her-since year five-" She finally squeaked. "-she's an unregistered animagus."
Content with her answer for now, Draco patted her bum to turn around and helped her out of her knickers. He stayed on his knees and pushed her to a perch on the desk while he shoved her dress up to her hips and pried her legs open to him, providing him an altar worthy view of her steaming pudenda.
"I'm going to do all sorts of things to you." He nuzzled his perfectly pointed nose between her weeping lips and panted against her cunt.
Hermione's fingers found a head of silver hair as she thrust her pelvis to him.
He gave her what she wanted full force and she watched through half-lidded eyes. She preferred this view of him at her mercy. His hooded eyes staring up at her, watching her respond to him, ogling her breasts, wishing he could see them under her dress.
His head moved in a circular motion, tongue dangled out as he swirled around the entirety of her clit slowly. He provided her an erotic performance and she undulated her hips faster.
She begged him to do more, to give her more and that must have roused him, for he began to exhale heavily with an open moth, tongue paddling through her soft clit and juices with a flickery haste.
Hermione sobbed as she exploded against the slosh of his saliva and her cream. She was wracked with a mass of convulsions. Draco's slowing ministrations delivered her from the blissful high, entranced with her cunt shaking from the orgasm he just gifted her with. He kissed it with each buck as she came down before leaving one last appreciative peck and standing to meet her lips, his tongue sweeping her lower lip on the way in.
She welcomed that delicious mouth. It was a musky piquant that was doused with his own saccharine. He made sure she knew his appetite had been satiated—for now.
Draco broke their doting snog at the sound of knocking. "Right on time." He smirked and picked her knickers off the floor, shoving them into his pocket while she adjusted her dress and stood up straight.
Hermione barely shook off the fantastic release she just had just as Angela entered with Ron right behind her.
"Granger, I am more than contended with the advancements we've made." Draco shook Hermione's hand casually, a deliberate look in his eye. He spun on his heels, pretending he hadn't just pillaged her most sacred of places like a famished beast. "Weasley," He nodded with a smug smile.
"Malfoy." Ron answered with an addled expression, as if a beaming, polite Draco was an eery occurrence.
If only he knew.
