A/N: This fic is a remix of my Harmony PWP one-shot, Noticing You and came about when I started wondering how the story would change if Draco took the place of Harry. How would the narrative voice and motivation shift? What details would be different? How would the way things build and resolve be affected...? It was a lot of fun to work all that out and you can read them side by side if you want to compare - although they're both meant to stand alone too.
Draco followed Hermione through the door of her flat. Fuck if he wasn't glad to be free of the highly tedious ministry awards banquet they'd just left.
She tossed her clutch on the couch and looked over her shoulder at him. "Wine or whisky?"
"Do you have any of that good Burgundy?"
She nodded and went to the kitchen, while Draco strode over to the window and looked out at the darkness, willing the tension in his shoulders to ease. He leaned his elbow against the glass and rubbed his forehead, seeing his own black and white figure reflected in the dark glass.
He hated these events with a fucking passion. Even now, fifteen years after the war had ended, he couldn't escape his infamy and the baggage that went with it. He'd never be free of the little glances and barbs. The moues of suspicion or distaste that crossed people's faces when he entered a room. The way that certain conversations stopped the moment he approached. It was fucking exhausting. Thank gods Hermione had agreed to go with him tonight. He didn't think he could have faced it without her. One of the few who had truly forgiven him, her very presence acted as a potent shield.
She reappeared with a glass in each hand and walked over to give him his. It struck Draco as she moved toward him how incredibly beautiful she had become. Gone was the bushy-haired, buck toothed girl he'd made fun of at Hogwarts, long ago replaced by a stunning woman. And the fact that this woman was his friend, his good friend, never ceased to amaze him.
No one had been more surprised than Draco himself when he'd decided to become an auror. He'd taken the entrance exam on a whim—or maybe an impulse related to making amends or trying to prove himself—but he'd scored extremely high, then passed training with flying colors. And he'd been admitted to the DMLE with a surprisingly minimal amount of controversy almost before he knew what had happened.
When the powers that be had paired him with Prosecutor Granger for his first few cases, he hadn't had high hopes. But they had worked well together, so well that they'd become partners after a fashion, requesting assignments with each other and eventually taking their camaraderie beyond work and into their personal lives, which had been firmly enmeshed for over five years. In his more honest moments Draco admitted that, like Potter and Weasley, he didn't know what he'd do without her.
Of course, he tried to keep his more honest moments to a minimum.
"Thanks and cheers," he said.
She clinked the globe of her glass to his. "What are we toasting?"
"Getting out of that hellscape and finally having a drink." Draco never drank at events because the wine was shit and he dealt better with arseholes when he was sober.
"Yes." She raised her brows. "That was rather a bad one."
"Agreed." Draco said. He'd had to watch an incompetent colleague win an award that should have been his—should have been his for that last four years running, in fact—although he'd never even been nominated. And while he deeply didn't care about things such as plaques or treacly thank-you speeches, it still rankled.
"Very glad you were available to make it tolerable." He raised his glass again in salute, but saw Hermione's smile falter. Cursing himself, he quickly amended his statement. "Shit, Granger, I'm sorry."
"It's nothing." She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively, but he wasn't fooled. He'd seen her face fall and he knew exactly why.
It was the breakup with her latest; a Gringotts investment-banking social climbing wanker with a faux upper-crust name Draco made sure never to remember. Draco hadn't been able to stand him, not to mention the fact that—'Easton,' that was it. Gods, what a twat—hadn't been anywhere near Hermione's league. But she had been intending on bringing him to the gala.
He leaned against her briefly and nudged her shoulder. "He was a complete twat, you know this."
She laughed—almost involuntarily—and nudged him back. "Draco!"
"It's true," Draco muttered into his glass, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring back out the window again, the little crease between her eyes telling him that she was still dwelling. She'd been dwelling all night, despite Draco's attempts to cheer her. Fucking Easton. He absolutely wasn't worth it. Draco opened his mouth to reiterate, but she turned away and walked to the kitchen doorway, kicking off her heels as she went and leaning there with a sigh.
She took a deep drink of her wine.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Draco fought his natural inclination to avoid emotional conversations, moving away from the window and perching on the arm of the nearby sofa. Not for the first time, he registered that Hermione looked particularly beautiful tonight, the deep red of the silk dress she was wearing setting off her golden skin and dark eyes.
She appeared to waffle for a moment, not making eye contact. When she finally did look up, she let out a long breath."It's just something Easton said… when we broke up."
The vulnerability and hurt in her face iced something behind Draco's eyes. "What exactly did he say?" He tried to keep his words quiet, but he could hear the cold anger in his voice.
"That my 'pedantic and overbearing personality kills any attractiveness I may lay claim to.' It's honestly made me wonder if I'm tedious—or unappealing or something."
Draco leaned forward, making her look at him. "Easton is a spineless cunt with an inferiority complex, who is nowhere near the same universe as you looks-wise, intelligence-wise, careerwise and really in any other measurable way. He'd also better hope I never meet him in a dark alley, or over an interrogation table."
She snorted a soft, humourless laugh. "He's a banker, Draco—I doubt that would ever happen."
Draco lifted a brow. "You'd be surprised."
She really laughed then, and Draco forced himself to ease his posture. He took a drink of his wine. "I always had the impression that Easton was intimidated by you." She made a dismissive noise, but he continued. "And you're very warm, wildly appealing and your personality is lovely. Anyone who would say differently is an idiot and likely just out to hurt you."
She flushed and looked down. "Thank you." She fiddled with the stem of her glass then glanced up at him. Her cheeks were bright red. "But you've never been attracted to me in that way."
Draco almost choked on his wine.
"What!? Why do you say that?"
Hermione suddenly pushed up and moved into the kitchen, saying over her shoulder. "In the five years that we've been good friends, you've been out with approximately 18, no 19 women. Blondes, brunettes, the one redhead. Sweet, bitchy, bookish, on the dim side. But you've never asked me out or even thought of me that way. Admit it."
"For fuck's—" Draco blew out a breath.
"I mean, granted, I'm not a leggy socialite." She turned, leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
Draco opened and closed his mouth. Hermione's brows went up.
"Well those are the only ones who will give me the time of day," he quipped.
She laughed—a little begrudgingly.
"No, I'm serious," he said, getting up and walking slowly toward the kitchen. "It's only women who care about money and status that will ignore the… rest of it. Nice women don't want any part of me."
"Oh, so I'm nice.That explains it, then."
"That's not what I meant." He shook his head and leaned in the doorway, also crossing his arms. He tried to get her to look at him, but she kept her gaze trained on some distant spot on the floor.
"But we never, you never—" she said after a few moments, her voice trailing off.
"Granger."
"What?" She finally looked at him, her brows knitted.
"That doesn't mean I've never thought about it!" Draco would have laughed, but the moment wasn't particularly funny.
"Really?" She caught his gaze and Draco looked at her for a long beat. He was suddenly very focused, finding it difficult to suppress things he usually kept tightly wrapped, aware of the tendrils of lust this conversation was causing to twine through his thoughts.
A coil of her hair had escaped her coiffure and was brushing the graceful curve of her neck. His eyes went to the point of contact.
"You still haven't said why you haven't—" she said, her voice soft.
Draco kept looking at her, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. "All right. Do you want the truth or the version that will allow our friendship to trundle along unruffled?"
"Truth." A flash of her eyes as she shot him a defiant glance.
Draco sighed, feeling like he was gathering himself to jump into deep water. "Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have a particularly large circle of friends. And even fewer who I would consider real friends." She started to make a sound and he held up a hand. "Please. We're being honest here." She nodded. "So I very much don't want to fuck up the friendships I do have." He looked at her and let all restraint drop from his features. "I never wanted to lose you."
She blinked and looked down, then back up at him, her expression stark. A silence stretched in the room before she spoke in a low voice.
"I don't think you could lose me if you tried."
Draco breathed in.
In one moment, the time it took to blink or his heart to beat, he saw something, let himself see. And he let his own carefully erected barriers fall—let himself really look at her… the way he wanted to. The dark fall of her curls against her golden skin; her full rose lips, slightly parted; the way the silk of her dress just brushed the tops of her breasts.
What she was telling him with her eyes.
A wave of pure desire crashed over him and he pushed away from the wall, trying to somehow figure out what she wanted at the same time that he examined what he could take. What if it was only a one-time thing—could he handle that? What if it was more—could he dare to hope for that?
Yes. The answer whispered through his consciousness on a current of hope, tinged with fear.
He felt the barest flash of uncertainty and he hesitated, but then she looked at him and licked her lips, catching the lower one between her teeth.
In two steps he was across the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against him, his lips crashing against hers. She made one startled sound, and then her fingers were in his hair and her tongue was twining with his.
He opened for her and it was a voracious, reckless kiss, both of them instantly caught up, their mingled breaths and sighs the only reminder that they weren't comprised solely of touch and sensation. He moved against her, pressing into her softness. She moaned and clutched at him, and he found himself lifting her to the countertop, pushing her legs apart and sliding her against him in a swift movement, wanting to be close, closer—his mind a haze of heated desire. Her legs went around him and she pulled the back of his shirt from his waistband impatiently. He started with surprised pleasure when he felt the pads of her fingers and then her nails against his bare skin.
He moved his lips from her mouth to her neck and she leaned her head to the side with a sweet sigh.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?" The word came out breathy, a pulse that arrowed straight to his cock.
"Just in case it's not clear. I have wanted you. For a long time. Quite badly, in fact." He said it against her skin as he nipped along the curve of her shoulder where the slim strap of her dress rested against her lightly freckled skin. He hooked a finger under the strip of fabric and slid it down.
Her eyelids fluttered and she looked at him from under fringed lashes. "Draco. Oh." She groaned as he kissed her skin again. "It's the same, the same for me. For so long."
He paused and looked back at her. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were dark. Her breaths were quick and sharp. "Thank gods, because I meant what I said. I don't want to fuck this up."
"No." She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him again, fiercely.
Fucking hell.
Draco was aware that he was now completely aflame, every sense alive to her and the moment. He slipped his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back, kissing her neck and jaw, lingering there as he felt her fingers along his chest, vaguely aware, thrilled, that she was unbuttoning his shirt. She made another small sound and he moved his free hand up her thigh, pushing at the hem of her dress.
She half-whispered, half-moaned his name against his mouth, her hands going up around his chest to his back.
She sounded almost dazed and he could understand why. He'd been honest when he said he'd thought about her, wanted this. But the reality of it, the feel of her lips and breath; the sound of his name in her voice; her scent and essence surrounding him; was so searingly hot that he was almost taken aback. He'd suspected they would be good together, but nowhere near this good.
He was completely undone.
Parting her lips again, he stroked into her mouth at the same time as he pushed harder against her core. She moaned and tangled her fingers in his hair, her nails raking across his scalp. He swore softly at the exquisite sensation and felt her wrap her legs tighter around him, pulling herself directly against his cock, which was so fucking hard he almost couldn't stand it. He made a sound low in his throat.
"Draco?" she said again, low and throaty. His cock throbbed and he rubbed against her.
"Mmm," he said against her satiny skin.
"Do you want to...?" Her hand drifted down between them and caressed the straining front of his trousers, the touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through him.
"Granger" he said on a gasp, "Are you asking me if I want to fuck you? Because the answer is yes."
Abruptly, she slid down off the counter, moving hard against his cock, causing a moan to rip from his throat. "Fucking hell!" he hissed. She gave him one heated look before spinning and grabbing the counter with her hands.
"Then fuck me," she said over her shoulder.
Draco took one more brief moment to take in what was happening, what she wanted, before he was on her, one hand around her waist and the other pushing her dress up, searching for her knickers.
"You want it right here? Want me to bend you over and fuck you from behind?" he rasped into her ear, as he placed devouring kisses along her neck and rubbed his cock against her arse, barely believing what was happening right now. He couldn't remember ever being this turned on before.
She thrust back against him in response. "Yes."
"Fuck, Hermione," he gasped.
She looked back over her shoulder. "Touch me, Draco. Please, I want you to."
Draco shuddered with need and yanked her dress up over her waist, sparing a brief thought for the beautiful red silk, which would surely be ruined. He took a moment to lean back and appreciate the view, his eyes widening at the sight of her pert, luscious arse, totally bare but for the framing of very small scrap of black lace.
He ran his hands reverently over it. "This is a fucking work of art, this is," he breathed, before suddenly looping his fingers in the waist of her thong and wrenching it down. Watching it slide over her arse cheeks was a severe tax on his control, as was the brief glimpse of her pink lower lips as she went up on tiptoe to assist him in getting it all the way off.
He slid his hands around to her tits and pulled her flush against him, pinching and teasing her nipples through her dress as he lowered his lips to her neck and bit and kissed it, then shifted her hair to get to her nape. He could feel his cock brushing against the seam of her arse and it was fucking incredible.
"That feels so good. God. I love to have the back of my neck kissed." She moaned deep in her throat and he started rubbing rhythmically against her—like a fucking teenager—but he couldn't help himself. His fingers drifted down and around to her front until he found her slick, swollen clit. The moment he touched her, she gasped and bucked against him.
"Oh FUCK," she grunted, throwing her head back into the crook of his shoulder. Her sighs and groans got louder as he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers, and Draco's cock was so hard he could feel it pulsing at every sound.
"Yes," she said, the word coming out as a sort of throbbing whisper that undid the last of Draco's restraint. He slid his hands down her back, pushed her over the counter, then grabbed her hips. She was fully exposed to him now, her sweet, pink cunt glistening.
"Your cunt is fucking gorgeous," he gasped, looking his fill before he slid back up along the back of her body to whisper directly in her ear. "I want to eat you out so badly, but I think you'd rather be fucked right now wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I want to be fucked, Draco, please," she moaned.
"Like this?" he whispered, sliding a finger slowly into her, gods, dripping wet passage.
"Yes. Fuck, that's good." She bucked back against him. "More, yes."
He increased the speed on her clit and slid in another finger and she shuddered against him, the noises she was making becoming louder and more strident. Draco was so turned on that he thought there was a good chance his cock would explode before it got anywhere near her actual pussy.
"You are so fucking gorgeous right now," he said in her ear, panting. "I'm going to fuck you so hard." He slid his fingers out of her and reached up to fumble with his belt then yank his trousers and pants down.
He pulled at her hips and she tensed against him. "Oh god, NOW, please!" she hissed, throwing her head back and breathing heavily. "I'm going to come fucking fast."
"Good," he said lining up his cock, "because so am I."
He thrust into her with one ruthless stroke and she let out a strangled scream as he filled her. Draco felt his eyes roll back in his head and he swore as he sheathed himself fully, watching as he went all the way to hilt before pulling out again and pushing back into her tight, dripping cunt.
He hadn't been lying; he'd had probably dozens of really graphic fantasies about Hermione over the years, but nothing could compare to this—and sometime after the first few strokes he lost all sense of control, wrapping his hands around her waist and thrusting hard and fast.
"Fuck, Draco! Yes!" she cried, bending further over the counter and pushing her legs apart and arse out. The deeper access nearly killed him and he grunted as his orgasm started to build. He could hear her crying out on each stroke, so he reached around to touch her clit again but she stopped him with her hand. "I've got it. Just fuck me, oh god that feels—!" The last words ended on a shriek as he sped his thrusts and she worked her fingers against herself.
Draco went rigid as her inner muscles started to clench around him. He reached for her hair, pulling her head back as he sped up, driving at some primal goal. She arched her back and screamed, shattering completely and starting to come so hard on his cock that he could feel it to his core. The sensation carried him completely over the edge and he came swearing and calling her name, before collapsing against her.
"Oh my fucking god," she gasped, her shoulders heaving as she stayed bent boneless over the counter.
Draco stayed behind her, breathing heavily for a moment before straightening. He quickly righted her dress and his pants and trousers, then ran his palms over her back and around to her front, pulling her upright and against him as he pivoted and fell back against the counter, needing the support. She relaxed into him, letting her head loll against his shoulder, and he rested his face against the long line of her neck. "Indeed," he breathed against her skin, running his lips lightly over it and enjoying the feeling of her long breaths slowing as she came down. He himself was floating in a bliss-like state that only a truly incredible sexual encounter could evoke.
Suddenly she turned around, pressing into him and looping her arms around his neck. Her lips lifted in a half smile. "Hello," she said, her voice low and relaxed.
He looked at her for a second then reached down and kissed her, slow and soft. "Hello," he said against her lips. She laughed a little, then pulled back.
"So, I didn't expect that to happen tonight…" she said, her tone and look playful.
"No, but I'm far from sorry it did." He raised a brow in a silent question.
"Same," she said quickly, reaching up to kiss him again.
He broke away. "And I do hope that my non-verbal demonstrations of why Easton, or Euston, or whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was, is a stupid, ignorant, twat, were … well-placed."
Her eyes went wide, but then she coughed lightly. "Ah, very well-placed. Especially when you pushed me down and did that thing where you thrust sort of upward?"
Draco started laughing and pulled her against his chest. "Witch."
"Finally admitting I am one, eh?" she mumbled against his shirtfront.
"OK, that's it," he laughed, pulling back and looking around comically. "Where's the bedroom?"
"Why?"
"You're cheeky and clearly need more shagging."
"Well you've been here enough times. You know where it is."
"Is that an invitation?"
She put her finger to her lips and looked at him quizzically. "Do you know, I think it is. Come on."
She took him by the hand and Draco went.
Draco groaned as Hermione gave him a beautiful smile and reached over to trail her fingers across the planes of his chest, letting her nails graze his skin. Incredibly, he felt a tightening at the base of his cock, something he'd thought would be impossible after two extremely satisfying sexual acts in as many hours—especially at his age.
"What have you done to me?" he asked as she moved up to kiss him.
"I don't know, but I like it," she hummed, tangling her hands in his hair. "Your 'silken silver-blond hair'. Wasn't that a quote in Witch Weekly? I've always wanted to run my hands through it."
Draco smiled against her mouth. "Feels fucking incredible." He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking hers, as she ran her hands down his neck and swept them around to his back, pulling him to her. He moved over her and she shifted her leg up and slid her foot over the back of his calf. He moved his lips to her neck again.
"All of you is gorgeous, just gorgeous," she sighed.
"All of you is fucking breathtaking," he said, pulling back to look at her before taking her lips in another deep kiss. She sighed and moved under him, and he realised with a jolt of surprise that he was definitely hard again. "Gods, I can't get enough of you."
"Do you—?" she breathed into his lips, moving against him in a very purposeful way.
"Yes," he hissed, shifting to position her as her nails bit into his skin. He groaned and slowly buried himself in her again, keeping his lips on hers as they moved together unhurriedly.
"Lovely," she sighed, "you feel so—" her words broke off on a deep sound of pleasure as Draco lost himself in the moment. He lengthened their kiss as she twined her limbs around him.
If their first round had been a heated frenzy, and the second a playful romp, this was an erotic communion—and no less passionate for its languid pace. When eventually they finished, on a long wave of shared pleasure, Draco wrapped his arms around her and drifted to sleep, sated and content—for the first time in a long time.
Much later he woke up to moonlight filtering across his pillow. Awareness dawned when he felt an errant curl tickling his nose and a perfect arse tucked up against his groin. Improbably, he was hard again. His arms tightened and he heard a little squeak come from the warm bundle that was nestled against him.
"Are you awake?" he asked, kissing the back of her neck.
"Yes," she turned in his arms to face him, the crease back between her brows.
The crease worried him. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she said, but her eyes cut away and there was something in her voice.
"Hermione, shit—is this going to ruin everything?" He propped up, suddenly terrified that he'd been stupidly reckless and would now pay the price.
"Well," she started, and Draco felt his face freeze—but then she smiled, a very wicked smile—and put her index finger up to drag it lightly down over the bridge of his nose and lips. "Only if you don't want to do it again, because I'm really fucking turned on right now."
He closed his eyes and flopped on his back, relief zipping through him. "You absolute wench. You scared me."
"Well?" she prompted, sliding up over him and planting a lingering kiss on his lips.
"I suppose I can let you use my body." Draco laced his hands behind his head and looked at her from under half-closed lids. "But there are conditions."
"And those are?" She was now placing kisses over his torso and stomach and Draco felt his muscles flutter in response.
"Mmm, yes." He watched her as she dipped lower.
"Those are?" her dark eyes gleamed up at him.
"Oh ah, you have to be my date… for all— Gods!" She had wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and Draco suddenly found it extremely difficult to remember what he was trying to say. "For all—" He groaned as she took him fully in her mouth, her tongue sweeping up the underside of his shaft. "For all ministry events, and really all other events, happenings, dinners and the like—fuck ME!—going forward."
She pulled back, twirling her tongue on his tip as she looked up. "So we'd be... seeing each other?"
He opened his eyes and glanced down, breathing hard. "Well, yes. If you'd like."
"Seeing you," she said, almost absentmindedly stroking up and down his now-rigid cock. "Yes, I think I'd like that. I think that could be arranged."
FIN