"From knowing him better, his disposition was better understood."
Hermione yawned over her notes as she sat at her kitchen table, trying to finish a paragraph before the disappearance of the late summer light necessitated a candle. After several days of dividing her time between the Black journals and her fieldwork, she was absolutely exhausted. And a string of late nights hadn't helped either. Her lips tugged up in a smile—not that she regretted anything.
She leaned back and stretched. While her brain was fatigued and could use a night of unbroken sleep, her body felt marvelous. She couldn't remember when she'd last been this relaxed. Even that muggle yoga class she'd tried a few years ago couldn't beat regular, spectacular sex. She giggled to herself, her eyes far away as she nibbled on the end of her quill.
Suddenly her floo leaped to life with a roar and she looked up to see Ginny's head staring accusingly at her from across the room.
"Hermione. Jean. Granger. THREE owls I have sent with THREE letters and NO REPLY!? It's a good thing you're staying with my brother and sister, who assured me you are alive and well, or I would have filed a missing persons report by now!"
Hermione got up from the table and moved toward her fireplace with a grimace. "I'm so sorry Gin. There's just... There's been a lot going on. With the herd and this amazing source material I found." She looked away. "And er, personally. But that's no excuse for neglecting you."
"Oh I know what's been going on," said Ginny. "Pen is not blind, nor is she averse to a bit of juicy goss. BUT" —she gave a very unconvincing wounded look— "I'm very hurt that you haven't shared it all with me yet."
"Well I don't know how much there is to share…" Hermione gestured weakly.
"Not much to share—aren't you SHAGGING!?" Ginny's voice boomed out in the cozy room.
Hermione's gaze whipped to her open kitchen window and she hustled over to close it. "Keep it down! Jesus. This is why I'm reluctant to talk to you sometimes!"
"OK, OK." Ginny's voice dropped to an exaggeratedly low and modulated tone, and she took a deep breath. "Are you shagging?"
Hermione laughed and put her hands over her face. "Yes."
"I didn't heeeaaarrrr that!" sang Ginny.
"YES. OK! YES. We are shagging our brains out, and it's fantastic, and you won your fifty galleons, and I can't get enough, and you were right about everything! You were right." Hermione lifted her hands from her face to reveal a goofy grin.
"Tell me everything." Ginny's eyes gleamed and Hermione flopped down in front of the hearth to give her a quick rundown of all that had happened since they last spoke.
"Ok, yeah, great. You went to a music party a couple of weeks ago and he came home with you. You've gone out a few times. He's been over a lot. You like his niece or ward or whatever. His aunt is cool." Ginny waved her hand. "But tell me the good stuff. Is he icy and commanding in bed? Does he order you around? 'Put your leg there. Now sit on my face.'" She put on a posh accent and raised an imperious brow.
Hermione laughed out loud. "No! You slag." Ginny just looked at her expectantly. "I mean he does have a lot of confidence, but he's quite sweet."
"But not boring?"
"NO! Anything but. Rather mind-blowing, in fact."
Ginny let out a silent wolf whistle. "And does he look as good under his robes as we thought he would?"
"Better."
Hermione joined Ginny in a bit of screaming before calming down enough to speak again.
"So the second most pressing question in all three of my letters," Ginny said, shaking her head. "When in the bloody HELL are you coming home? I miss you! Harry misses you!" Her eyes narrowed. "Although now it makes a lot more sense that you've been lingering in the French countryside."
"Well it hasn't all been just shagging and mooning about!" Hermione protested. "I've been doing a job here too. A good one."
Ginny rolled her eyes and made a move on gesture with her hand.
"ANYWAY," glared Hermione. "My job should finish in about two weeks. Astoria, who has been helping me, is off to school on the 1st and then I think I'll need one more week to tie up loose ends. So say around the 7th or 8th?"
Ginny nodded. "And what's going to happen… with Draco... when you get back?"
Hermione sighed. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. It's been such an idyll here. Not many people know and no one really talks about it. It's mostly been just us."
"Yeah and I noticed you mentioned going out to mostly muggle places," Ginny's eyes rested on Hermione's, her brows slightly raised.
"Well I mean, that's not a big deal. They're much more fun around here anyway. And there's more of them."
"Mmm hmm. But that's going to change once you're in London."
Hermione looked away. "Yeah. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess."
Ginny's face turned serious for a moment, but then she brightened up. "Well I'll be sure to look for your boyfriend next month in the Sacred Stroll section of the Prophet…"
"Oh god, I totally forgot about that! And he's not my boyfriend." Hermione shook her head.
Ginny just laughed, then looked over her shoulder. "Potter's home!"
Suddenly Harry's head poked into the flames as well. "Hey Hermione! I miss you!" he called.
"Harry! I miss you too!" Hermione blew him a kiss. His answering smile sent a stab of homesickness through her and she realised a part of her would be glad to get back.
"Sorry to cut you two short, but we've got to go if we're going to make the film," Harry said to Ginny.
"OK, OK! Love you, Hermione. See you in a couple of weeks. And owl me back once in a while!" Ginny called.
"I will. Miss you both. See you very soon!" Hermione blinked as the flames went dark.
It was dim in the cottage now, so she muttered a soft 'lumos' to turn on the lamps, then moved to the couch and sat down with a pensive stare. What would she and Draco do when they got to London? So much would change. And she hadn't thought much about where they went when they went out—but it had been mostly muggle places... Was it coincidence or were they covertly hiding? Maybe they should go more public here for a soft landing, so to speak.
Or maybe they should attend the Founders Ball as a couple. Rip that bandage right off… Hermione snorted aloud at the idea. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about the stuffiest social event of the year. The fucking 'Sacred Stroll'—formally known as the Founders Ball—but so nicknamed because it had been started by Sacred 28 families generations ago. She doubted they even let muggle-borns in the door.
Draco had figured prominently in Rita Skeeter's previous coverage of it, so Hermione knew he must go every year. Actually come to think of it, that seemed out of character. Why did he go? And what if they went together this year? On the one hand it was the last place she'd ever want to be, but on the other, what a bold declaration...
Anyway, she was too tired to be puzzling through this now. Her bed and sleep called. She snuffed out the lights in the sitting room and wandered down the hall to her bedroom, falling into her soft bed with a sigh. She was out almost instantly, her dreams filled with twirling couples.
~oOo~
Hermione thwacked the tennis ball with all she had, sending it spinning over the net. Astoria, with uncanny quickness, was there to return her serve with a wicked backhand. Hermione grunted as she lunged to meet the shot.
She had been pleased to learn that Lucretia had enjoyed muggle tennis in her younger years and had had courts put in at the chateau. She'd been surprised, but no less pleased, to learn that Astoria knew how to play, having developed an interest in the sport as a result of her jaunts to muggle London with Draco when she was small. Astoria was rather good and Hermione had found herself fighting for every point at the match they'd arranged to play that day.
"Well done," she called as she approached the net after they finished, acknowledging Astoria's victory through deep breaths of the late afternoon air.
"And you," said Astoria, extending her hand to shake as they walked off the court and toward a sloping green hill to the house.
"Where are you off to?" Hermione asked, remembering that Astoria had an outing tonight with Lucretia. Draco was away. In Wiltshire for meetings again.
"Auntie is taking me to the muggle opera," Astoria said, slinging her racket over her shoulder. "She says I need to 'expand my musical horizons.'" This was accompanied by a dramatic eye roll.
"She's absolutely right!" laughed Hermione. "It's never a bad thing to expose yourself to new types of culture. And besides the opera is lovely. I think you'll enjoy it. Lots of opulent scenes and rich costumes." Astoria was still frowning. "Be open-minded," Hermione chided gently.
"OK, OK, I'll take your word for it. It's just I'd rather go to this party that Georgia's throwing while her parents are away tonight," Astoria said. "Auntie came up with the opera plan very spur of the moment and I can't help but wonder if it's to keep me from going."
"Mmm, possibly." Hermione shrugged. "But there will be lots of parties."
Astoria sighed but then brightened. "You're right. And Auntie has promised to take me to a very decadent restaurant in Le Marais for a treat afterward."
"Oh, you're going to the opera in Paris?"
"Yes," Astoria said with a sly smile.
"Then you really have nothing to complain about! That will be amazing."
"I know, I know." Astoria was laughing now. She stopped at the foot of the steps to the house. "This is where I bid you adieu. Although, actually, you should come in and have a drink. But I need to get ready. Auntie wants to leave in—shit!—15 minutes!" The last part of the statement ended on a shriek as Astoria bolted for the stairs, wailing an apology and something about never giving herself enough time.
Hermione laughed as she watched the girl's frenzied progress, then turned to walk toward the apparition point, thinking she really should get home and finish some reports tonight. But then she paused. She was rather thirsty and Mimi made the most brilliant lavender-scented citron pressé… Impulsively, she turned and followed Astoria up the stairs and into the cool dim of the château.
A bit later, glass in hand, she saw Astoria and Lucretia off. Astoria looked as if she'd had two hours instead of fifteen minutes to prepare and Lucretia was impeccable as always. "Have a lovely time," Hermione said, smiling at the pair.
"Thank you dear. Enjoy your drink on the west terrace where the view of the sunset is best," Lucretia directed as she ushered Astoria out the door. "Stay as long as you like."
"I'll do that!" Hermione called, waving at them as they disappeared.
Mimi refreshed her pressé and Hermione carried it toward the suggested spot, realising the west terrace would be the one in Draco's wing. It must be the pretty seating area she had passed when she had been looking for him the day she'd licked him. She giggled at the memory and then sighed. She missed him. Even though he'd only been away for a few days.
Finding the doors to the terrace, Hermione pulled them open and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the soft air as she watched the sun dip below the distant hills. She flopped onto a chaise longue and sipped her drink contentedly. Was this really her life? London and the flat and her grey little office at the Ministry seemed very far away. She lifted her hair off her neck and squinted into the distance. What would it be like to be Lucretia and live this every day? Or even to be Draco and always have access to it?
If she were a permanent part of his life, this would be her reality too. The thought flitted across her mind and she shifted, uncomfortable. Where had that come from? A permanent part of his life... Also, she didn't like to think of him that way—to put her relationship with him in the context of his wealth and status. She was drawn to the person, not what he had or represented. She knew that in her bones. If his family disowned him, if his fortune were wiped out tomorrow, she'd still… what? Be drawn to him? Attracted to him? Want to spend time with him? Want him? Yes to all of that. And… possibly more?
She felt a frown ghost over her face and pushed up from the chaise to lean on the railing of the balcony, the thoughts of Draco sharpening her longing for him, making her restless. He'd be back tomorrow or the next day, but she really wished he was here now. Her mind drifted back to their first night together and the library—a flash of his supple fingers, his talented lips—Mmm. Yes, she really missed him.
She chuckled and forcibly turned her thoughts from the carnal, her mind drifting to the sweet piece of magic he'd left for her that first morning after. Suddenly an idea sprung to her mind that she'd do the same thing for him, so that when he arrived he'd know she'd been here and been thinking about him. She turned from the balustrade and walked toward his rooms, a smile tugging at her mouth. Maybe she'd steal one of his shirts to sleep in too…
Hermione was leaning over Draco's desk, stretching her tight back muscles and writing what she hoped was a sweet but somewhat indecent note, when a voice sounded from behind her.
"Now that's a lovely way to welcome a chap home."
She whirled in surprise to see Draco leaning in the doorway, arms crossed.
Delight—and more—flooded her. "You weren't supposed to be back until tomorrow!"
"Couldn't stay away." His lips went up into a rakish half smile as he pushed off the door frame. "And to what do I owe this very lovely vision in my rooms?"
"I was leaving you a note." Hermione stepped toward him, smiling. "It was going to turn into a broom or a dragon or something and whiz around."
He reached her and his arms slid around her waist. "And why did I deserve that?"
"Oh, you're just very deserving." Hermione let her eyes drift obviously down his body. His eyebrows went up as he watched her. "And it was also to make up for the fact that I was going to steal your shirt," she gestured to a soft blue button-down slung over the back of his desk chair.
He tilted his head. "May I ask why you were committing larceny against one of my Oxfords?"
"I missed you. I wanted to sleep in it." Hermione had just enough time to notice his eyes widen slightly before desire overcame her and she reached up to capture his lips. He responded instantly, his tongue teasing hers and his hands drifting down from her waist to her arse, where his fingers dipped under her skirt and pushed it up. She kissed him hungrily, backing him against the sofa and pressing between his legs. Draco seemed to register her heightened state of arousal because she felt him smile.
"Do you know," he said a bit breathlessly, his fingers slipping beneath her pants to skim her arse, "I believe a tennis costume is my very favourite type of muggle clothing."
"How surprising? Why?" Hermione moved her lips down his neck as she made quick work of his shirt buttons.
"Oh." His breath left him in a quick puff as he seemed to register that she was already undressing him. "Well obviously it's very short." He leaned back as she dipped down and moved her mouth over his clavicle and chest.
"Yes, I think we've established that you like short."
He huffed a soft laugh. "Indeed. And the white sets off your skin." His hands ran up her back and into her hair.
"Mmm hmm." Her hands went to his belt buckle.
"Very short," he breathed. "Very white—" Hermione was now running her fingers under his waistband and pushing on his trousers. "—mean that your arse…is barely covered and your…legs look...incredible." He was panting now because she had palmed him and was slowly stroking his hard length with her clasped fingers. "So I immediately imagine them wrapped around my face as I eat your...sweet little cunt. Yes," he hissed as Hermione increased her pace.
"Do you also imagine bending me over and fucking me from behind?"
Draco made a strangled sound in his throat. "Is that what you want?"
"Unless you'd rather I straddle you." She was panting now too—she wanted him so badly.
"Difficult decision." He reached around ripped her pants down. "Either way the skirt stays on."
"Yes," she moaned as he started stroking her.
"Fuck," he muttered. "This is such a nice way to be greeted." She gave a short laugh that turned into a gasp of pure pleasure against his hands, his lips.
"Please fuck me, Draco," she sighed after a few moments of delicious teasing. "I want you so much. I was thinking about you... this…before." Her words came out as a kind of sob that seemed to snap his last thread of control, because Hermione suddenly found herself spinning so she was facing the high back of the couch. The flat of Draco's hand pushed between her shoulder blades and she went down, her forearms and face buried in the cushions.
She could feel his cock rigid against her and she tensed with anticipation while his fingers ran lightly over her bare arse.
"Pert little arse…do you want this?" he whispered in her ear, his voice hot and dark. "Do you want me to bury my cock in your tight, dripping cunt?" Hermione could feel him moving against her, parting her, stroking her.
She turned her head, every sense on fire. "YES," she hissed. "God, yes."
"Good." On that one syllable he pushed into her with a groan.
She moaned into the cushions. God, this was what she'd wanted. It felt so fucking good.
His thrusts were deep, but unhurried. She couldn't help crying out against the exquisite sensation. Suddenly his hands gripped her hips and he pulled her up, even tighter against him, and began increasing his pace until eventually she was incoherent, her muscles clenching in pleasure, almost over the edge.
"FUCK!" she gasped as he changed his angle and she suddenly felt a lightning bolt of pure ecstasy shoot through her. She couldn't resist moving her fingers to her clit.
He must have seen what she was doing because soon he was encouraging her. "Yes, touch yourself. Sweet fucking cunt. Gods. I want to feel you come on my cock. Come for me, Hermione. Do it."
It was the command in his last words that sent her over the edge and she yelled his name as she flew apart, fingers gripping the pillow so hard some part of her feared she'd damaged the fabric. He followed soon after, his shout echoing hers, then collapsed on her back, heaving against her.
She shifted and he immediately pulled up, wrapping his arms around her center and pulling her with him. She felt his lips against her neck and his sweet breath against her skin, "Mother of fucking Circe," he breathed. She sagged against him and tilted her head back, still not quite able to speak or stand properly. He found his wand and muttered cleaning and silencing spells.
"I feel like it might be a bit late for that," Hermione said, smiling lazily.
"Auntie and Astoria are out, correct?" he asked, turning her and taking her hand to lead her into his bedroom. Hermione nodded as she realized with a nudge of surprise that she'd never seen it before today. She had an impression of high ceilings and airy furnishings in the dim twilight, but then Draco pulled her onto the bed and started kissing her and she forgot about anything else in the headiness of lazily exploring him.
And it seemed she was insatiable, because exploring soon turned to more, after which they decided to take a shower. Then the shower had gone long—and been extremely satisfying. Hermione had never been so utterly boneless, or so clean, in her life. But she was also starving, so they had sneaked down to the kitchen, successfully avoiding the elves, and discovered a half tarte tatin in the pantry that they were now consuming while seated at the tall kitchen island.
"So why are you back early again?" Hermione looked at Draco across the wooden slab and took a bite. He leaned back and stretched, his black t-shirt and wet hair making a compelling combination in the halo of the overhead light.
"I managed to hire my Operations head more quickly than I'd thought. I expected the negotiations to take weeks, but she was more keen than I realised."
"She?" Hermione raised a brow. Keen? Hmmm.
His smile emerged. "She's sixty and I believe very devoted to her wife."
Hermione grinned and looked down.
"And what about your work? How goes it with the herd? And what of the journals?" He leaned forward for her reply and she told him about her week—the excited first reactions to the texts from Rolf Scamander and others, the detail around resolving a point of contention in the bill language with the centaurs. Draco listened attentively and asked thoughtful questions.
Hermione paused to chew another bite of the tarte, which was buttery and divine. "You know it's very nice," she said.
He looked at her in inquiry.
"To have someone to talk to about this."
He took a bite and nodded slowly.
"It's just—" she continued, trying to gather her thoughts. "My circle in London—I love them, of course—but Harry, and especially Ginny don't have a lot of patience for the minutiae of my work. I sometimes wish Pen and Percy lived closer. They're more interested in these types of conversations."
"I know what you mean," he said after a pause. "And it is nice." He nudged her leg under the table and she nudged him back with a shy smile. They ate in companionable silence for a moment.
"I was thinking earlier that home seems very far away." Hermione cut her eyes to the open kitchen window and the very un-London like scene of deep twilight in the Provençal countryside beyond. "Sometimes I'm not sure I want to go back," she said with a little laugh.
"I know." His eyes flicked to hers, their expression warm, but serious.
Hermione felt questions bubbling up, a discussion that needed to be had. But it felt a bit soon—so she changed the subject. To something safer, that she'd also been wondering about.
"Draco,"
"Mmm?"
"You and Daphne—were you ever...?" Hermione fluttered her hand. "I mean, because of Astoria, and the guardianship? Or before?" Draco's eyebrows knitted and she continued quickly. "Nothing strange. I just wondered. It seems like it might have been natural…"
"Well the answer is no," he said with a shrug. "We've just never been that way. Not even when we were young. Maybe because she was always Pansy's best friend and...but no, it wasn't even that." He shook his head once.
Hermione nodded.
"What about you and Potter?" he muttered, looking down. "Ever anything there?"
"Harry? God, no!" Hermione exclaimed.
Draco looked up with a smirk and she widened her eyes at him. "Not that he's not a lovely and attractive man. But, same. Same as you with Daphne. I love him dearly, but I just never felt that way about him. And from a very early point there was Ginny. Not to mention Ron. So no, never."
They ate in silence for a few moments and then he looked up with a glint. "Glad we cleared that up."
She burst out laughing and came up off her stool to circle around to him. He turned toward her and she stepped between his legs then twined her arms around his neck.
"You're lovely," she sighed. "I like you."
His arms went around her waist and the corner of his mouth went up. "The feeling is mutual."
She brushed her fingers through his damp hair. "Do you have any other plans tonight? Now that we've had dessert—" Draco's eyes twinkled at her obvious double entendre. "—I'm hungry for dinner." His eyebrows flew up, causing Hermione to clarify. "Food dinner," she said. "Not more sex. Yet."
Draco was laughing as she finished this statement, but then he pulled his head back, looked down at the mostly finished tarte and squinted back up at her. "I believe my earlier characterisation of you as a gannet has proved accurate,"he said. Hermione wrinkled her nose at him and he made a face back before continuing. "And my only plan for tonight is to spend it with you."
"Mmm, that's nice." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Remy told me about a tapas place in muggle Aix. They have live music on the weekend. Shall we go?"
He kissed her. "Lead the way."