Explicit sexual content ahead. If that's something you don't enjoy, feel free to skip this chapter :)

Chapter 6

Adjournment


One week later

"I cannot believe you!" Hermione stormed into the office, slamming the notes she'd been holding for the past two hours onto her desk and sinking into her chair. "I cannot believe you just objected to your own proposal! All because you were unsatisfied with my placement of a comma?"

Malf— Draco followed her through the door, his hands in his pockets and that perpetual smirk on his face. "It wasn't my proposal, it was only my idea. And, to be fair, it was an Oxford comma."

She huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Oxford comma or not, I don't see why you still have this overwhelming compulsion to object to every one of my proposals."

"Old habits die hard and all that," he said with a dismissive wave. "Besides, I still voted for it. You got the legislation passed, didn't you?"

"No thanks to you," she said. He gave her a pointed look.

Alright, it may have been all thanks to him. After the Wizengamot had given Hermione a week's extension to finalize her bill, Draco had helped her redraft her legislation to allow the payment of house-elves for their services instead of freeing them completely. He had even called Tilly as a Creature Representative to support the proposal. The elf had spent half an hour talking about how she used the eight galleons her Master paid her a month to buy herself a tutu. As of ten minutes ago, the 'Wages for House-Elves Act' would be in full motion.

"Take your time, Granger. I'll wait," he said, propping his elbows on the desk, his eyebrow arching in that amused and regretfully endearing way she couldn't replicate if she tried.

She watched him for a minute before she let out a resigned sigh. "Oh, fine. Anything to get that smug look off your face," she relented. "You might have helped a little."

Another look. "You helped a lot," she amended in a mumble, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't quite hear you." She looked up to see his smirk stretch even wider. "Do you need me to cast a sonorous on your voice?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You heard me perfectly bloody—" She broke off at the curse, looking around the office for a moment before remembering he hadn't brought Scorpius to the Ministry today. After the disastrous ending to the first Wizengamot session, they didn't want a repeat of the incident. "You heard me perfectly well," she continued. "I said you helped a lot, you egomaniacal prat."

Draco straightened then, slipping around the desk to pull her to her feet. "There, now was that so hard?" he asked. His fingers moved trailed around her neck to tangle in her hair. His hands came to her chin, tilting her face toward his.

"You're impossible," she said, trying for a stern expression even as she fought a smile.

"Impossibly what, Granger? Smart? Handsome? Wealthy? You'll need to be more specific." His breath skimmed the shell of her ear, and although his words were teasing, his tone was warm. She opened her mouth to respond, but his lips found hers first, and any retort Hermione might have come up with died in her throat.

This kiss was… different. It wasn't like the heated, frenzied snogs they had begun stealing in the Ministry's copious abandoned alcoves. This was slow, and purposeful as if he was trying to memorize every single ridge and curve of her lips.

His face angled slightly to deepen the kiss, and she shuddered, feeling the hard edge of his glasses — those gold wire-rimmed glasses that tortured her day and night — graze the skin of her cheek. She pulled away from him to murmur, "Locking and silencing charm."

"Already done," he said, his hands abandoning their place in her hair to take her by the waist instead, lifting her onto the desk so that they were at the same height.

"When did— You planned this, didn't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He pushed her knees apart, stepping between them so she could wrap her legs around his waist. "I plan everything," he drawled.

Hermione lifted her hips to grind against him and she grinned at his low groan. She didn't think he planned that. But she supposed she didn't plant the heat that pooled deep in her core at the feel of his hard awareness of her either. Dropping her fingers to her shirt, she plucked the buttons free with a deftness she'd never been capable of before. She slipped the thick material off her shoulders and his darkened gaze fixed on the green lace of her bra.

"Salazar, Granger, is this really what you were hiding under all those matronly clothes of yours?" He tugged the sheer cups down and looked back up at her, a glint in his eye. "Though, I still think your style truly peaked when you came to the Manor last weekend wearing that scrap of cotton with those thin straps."

"The camisole?" she asked breathlessly, trying to form a coherent sentence through the heady haze of her mind. "It's hardly stylish. It's what I sleep in, it isn't meant for anyone else to see." Her voice hitched at the end when his thumb flicked over a nipple.

Moving her hands to his hips, she fiddled with the buckle of his belt until it came loose. "I'll count myself lucky to see it then," he said in a low voice, his hands skating down her sides, "You won't believe how much I wished one of those straps would snap."

She shuddered at his words, feeling a finger trace up her thigh, dipping beneath her knickers with the slightest graze before drawing back. Her hands froze on the clasp of his trousers.

Glazed eyes, almost black with desire, raised to meet hers. "May I?" Draco whispered against her cheek, his voice surprisingly soft, contrary to the teasing drawl from before.

"Y-you may," Hermione barely managed to choke out as he pushed her skirt up her legs, the fabric gathering around her hips. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and dragged them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. His lips peppered kisses at her jaw before traveling down the column of her throat as he slid a finger into her heat. The pad of the thumb brushed over her clit, and she whimpered.

Never had she met a man with fingers as skilled as these. Ron had been perfectly sweet, of course, but perfectly clumsy all the same. Draco wasn't clumsy. Merlin, no. Every thrust, every stroke carried dexterity and precision.

It was everything.

It was too little.

Suddenly feeling the overwhelming need to see him, to touch him, she resumed her work on his trousers and pushed them off his hips, fumbling for the cotton of his shorts. She tugged them off halfway when he withdrew his fingers from inside her, his other hand closing around her wrist, halting her. She almost whined at the loss of contact, but he spoke first.

"Are you sure?" Her gaze flitted to his. Charcoal irises were lighter now, a layer of concern mingled with the desire. "You need to be absolutely sure because I don't want you to... and then if… and with Scorpius... I need to know if you're sure about this. About us."

"Draco," she said softly, "I've been sure about you since the day you walked in here holding that baby a month ago, and at least partially sure before then. I told you I wanted to know you. I meant it."

The tension around his eyes disappeared, and with a hint of a smile, he released his grip on her wrist to place his hands on the desk, entrapping her between them.

Taking this as a sign, she made quick work of his shorts and they fell to the floor. She closed her fist around his length, giving it a few slow pumps, and his eyes squeezed shut, his tongue peeking out to rest on his bottom lip. At her angled tug, his head buried in her shoulder, letting out a string of unintelligible words into the curls stuck to her damp skin.

Her ankles loosened their hold around his waist, her knees parting further as she pulled him closer. She tugged at him once more in encouragement, guiding him to her center. It must have been encouraging enough, for he quickly pushed forward, sheathing himself within her. She threw her head back at the feeling of complete fullness, leaning backward on her elbows. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk as they set a steady pace, her hips rolling to meet each of his thrusts.

It was sinful, really, how perfectly they matched each other's rhythm.

His hands moved from their position on either side of her, one coiling around her waist and the other slipping between their connected hips to stroke her clit. Hermione's teeth clamped down hard on her tongue, almost drawing blood, to hold back what she was sure would be an embarrassingly guttural groan. "Come on, Granger, you've never been shy about voicing your opinions before," he said in a ragged breath. There was the confident Draco Malfoy she'd always known. "Let me hear you."

His movements started to grow more frantic, building in both pace and intensity. Hermione's heart was racing, but she kept her lips pursed, even as she felt a coil deep inside her wind tighter and tighter. His hips snapped into her at a higher angle just as he pinched her clit, and her mouth fell open, a broken sigh tumbling from her.

"Tell me what you need," he murmured, his lips traveling across her clavicle, leaving the skin beneath it aflame. "What do you need me to do to make that brilliant mouth of yours scream?"

She gasped, feeling herself grow impossibly wetter at his words. "That," she spluttered as he nipped at the side of her neck, his tongue flicking to soothe the skin. "Keep… keep talking."

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes flashing with something she didn't want to discern just yet. "Do you want to hear about how captivating you are when you speak about creature rights and injustice? About how exquisite it is to see your eyes light up like they did during your speech?"

His thrusts sped up and stars swept through her vision.

"About how fucking hard you make me when you're passionate about something? About how much of a fucking turn on it is when you're in your element?" Her back arched off the table as his voice lowered to a whisper, "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Hermione? What you did to me even then?"

It was her name on his lips that made the tight coil in her finally snap, her fingers clenching his shirt until her knuckles went white.

Hermione screamed.

She felt Draco's hips stutter against hers at the sound, and with a few final thrusts, he quickly followed her over the edge with what she could only describe as a growl. Her arms gave out behind her and she collapsed onto the desk, her breath coming out in pants. She watched as he snatched his wand from the edge of the desk, cleaning both of them up before dragging on his shorts and trousers.

She rolled her head to look at him as he dropped into her chair and had to suppress a smile at the sight of his hair, damp and disheveled, the platinum strands sticking up at odd angles. She could get used to seeing him like this. Her breath finally caught, she slid off the desk and pulled her knickers up her thighs, righting her skirt. "Thank you, by the way, for all your help with the legislation."

His gaze focused on her, dazed but content. "Yes, that idea worked out quite well. I don't know how you didn't think of it before," he said with a wink, rising to his feet.

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling before fixing on him again. She took a step towards him and reached her hands to his face, straightening the foggy lenses of his glasses resting askew on his cheekbones. "You know," she said after a beat of silence, "I had some ideas about the rights of werewolves, regarding the current accessibility of Wolfsbane—"

She was silenced by a groan and a press of his lips to hers. "Take a break, yeah, Granger?"

He kissed her again, and Hermione thought maybe the werewolves could wait a little bit longer.


And we reach the end! This has been such a joy to write, and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. I have to say, I'm really going to miss the gold wire-rimmed gla— ahem, these two snarky, oblivious idiots :')