Yes, I'm a little late. Alas, chapter 3 is up!
Because of your long wait, I made it a long chapter ..
Hope you'll like this
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or other references to the original work of J.K Rowling. I only own my own mistakes
-o-o-o-
Draco scrunched his nose at the weird smells coming out of the flat as the door flung open. The woman before him was certainly not fit to entertain, dressed only in a ragged old shirt that looked like someone had chewed it and spit it out again. If he was not mistaken her skin was covered in sweat and she looked in need of about ten showers and a hairbrush.
Even so, he couldn't stop his gaze from landing upon her exposed legs, suddenly imagining her in a white crisp shirt instead, sweaty and unruly hair for entirely different reasons. He quickly tore his eyes away, finding the images more disturbing than the ones he'd been sent while locked away.
"Hello Granger, " he nodded in greeting, after giving Harry a deadly glare for speaking nonsense. He was not scared of Granger. Although, that black eye she'd given him that one time had really hurt and lasted for over a week. He peeked behind her and wondered if her flat was actually the size of his Azkaban cell.
"Does this hole in a wall not have a shower?" The words escaped before he could think. Insulting Granger just sort of came natural to him, and he needed to do something to convince himself he hadn't just noticed her thighs.
Who opens the door half naked?
Harry elbowed him in his side. Draco straightened his back, trying to look regretful, a very poor and unsuccessful attempt. It wasn't that he regretted what he'd said but he knew better than to affront someone he was about to ask for help.
"You're probably wondering why we are here," he said with feigned formality, suddenly feeling like one of those annoying lowlife wizards who used to knock on people's doors and try to sell them overprized useless wizarding trinkets.
"Yes," she said, her voice resembling that of an eye roll. Draco found himself transfixed to the way she was rolling her wand between her fingers. He was already too familiar with the shape and force of her fist; he didn't need to find out how good she was with hexes as well. He reset his face, not allowing his worrisome thoughts show.
"The Ministry is requesting your aid. We've been sent to," he cleared his throat, finding it harder than he thought to ask her for help "acquire your assistance."
She made an attempt to smooth down her hair. Sadly, it didn't work. "You're with the Ministry? I thought you were in Azkaban with the rest of Voldemort's trash."
"Do I look imprisoned to you?"
Her eyes flitted over his body as in search of manacles and he pondered if she'd ever really looked at him at all before. He felt a sudden need to fix his posture and robes, as though he had a reason to impress.
Did she just check him out?
When her gaze landed on his after what felt like an eternity, he frowned slightly. He noticed an unfamiliar softness in her brown irises, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced. Now, they were just staring at each other for no apparent reason, and he couldn't fathom why he didn't look away.
"We could really use your expertise on a certain matter, you'd really help us out if you said yes," Harry said and broke the stare-down they had going on. Draco hoped the somewhat pleading look on his boss' face would sway her.
"Does this have something to do with that project you've been working on?" Hermione had been trying to pry information out of Harry for the last couple of Thursdays. Sometimes he'd show up with poorly glamoured bruises and stress etched onto his features. It had her worried. She never understood why Harry had chosen to become an auror, he'd done enough fighting for a lifetime and deserved to lean back and have a sense of normality. Harry was the closet thing she had to a family, and she knew his tells, the way he would fiddle with his glasses and avoid eye contact at certain questions. He was keeping something from her.
His answer was a simple yes accompanied by a small smile.
"If you want the death eater scum to be rid of for good, you'll help us." Draco said, his voice dripping with his usual arrogance. Hermione focused on the top of his head, avoiding his eyes.
"Clever."
"I'm known to be."
The corner of her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but thought better of it. Draco shifted in his stance, very much trying to stop his gaze from dropping to her thighs again.
Jeez, I need to get laid.
Hermione was quiet for several moments before answering; she crossed her arms over her chest, unknowingly making her shirt ride further up. The garment was now only covering her just below the hips, his eyes drifted there on their own accord this time.
"Well, I do want the trash off the streets," she said contemplatively. "I'll be employed by the Ministry?"
When Harry explained she would, Draco stopped listening and sniffed the air, a test to see if he would be able to determine the brew that way. As an Alpha he had a developed sense of smell, which most of the time was a nuisance. The air was still filled with the disgustingness of potions making, but he detected something else too. It was faint, barely there. It was something sweet, nice.
Was it a perfume? Perfumes often smelled more synthetic … He shook it off and returned to the boring sound of Potter's voice. He was explaining Hermione would be employed three months at a time, until the project was completed. By the project, Potter meant brewing a counter potion, but he didn't let Hermione in on that.
"All right, I suppose I could do three months," she said and Draco interpreted this to mean she could withstand three months working with him, even though it didn't exactly thrill her.
"Perfect," Harry said with a beaming smile. He then added he'd expound – to Hermione's disappointment - more about the actual job description when all the documents had been signed. Due to the secrecy surrounding the project they weren't allowed to disclose any more information at the time.
Draco focused on not falling asleep while Harry droned on about how he had to cancel their plans on Thursday, and reschedule for Sunday instead. He didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on Hermione's face as Harry made it known he would be her boss. Her eyes met with Draco's and it was obvious she was mocking him silently while registering Harry was his boss too.
After what felt like a decade of Harry and Hermione being annoying, i.e. being who they were, they said their goodbyes. Hermione started closing the door, but Draco grabbed onto the handle, stopping it mid motion. He peeked inside through the gap, eyebrows slightly raised and a devious smirk playing at his lips. "And Granger, maybe put on some clothes for your first day, yeah?" He made a pointed nod towards her naked thighs.
He had the pleasure of seeing a bright blush crawling up her neck when the door was slammed shut. He didn't think he'd ever seen her flushed before.
-o-o-o-
When Draco entered his house he was unable to stop thinking about her damn fine legs.
It's just legs, you've seen tons of legs. He told this to himself over and over again. Hoping for it to stick.
But he'd never seen her legs. It was the way they were sort of short, skinny yet toned. She just looked so… tiny, and feminine - not to mention that scent. Had it come from her?
No the scent wasn't all that. Besides You're an Alpha and you haven't gotten yours in a while.
Saturday did feel like an eternity ago.
Yes, that had to be it, once a week really was like living on breadcrumbs for an Alpha. He tried brushing it off while stepping into the shower, turning the water to cold because somehow he had a hard on and he was most certainly not about to wank off to the thoughts of Granger in that stupid ugly shirt.
-o-o-o-
Hermione closed the door and tried to steady herself. If was like she'd never laid eyes on him before. Never once during Hogwarts had she found Draco Malfoy attractive. He'd grown taller, his broad shoulders looked inviting and when he stopped her from closing the door, she'd felt the strength of his arms.
Then there were the eyes. They were grey, a colour she didn't particularly care for. She'd always found his eyes to be cold, lacking depth, but now, she saw the beauty in the colour grey, they were more like granite than a regular stone. They'd managed to captivate her to the point of holding his gaze for longer than what would be considered appropriate. Even though he'd looked as though her flat had personally offended him, there was something about his very presence that made it hard to look away. Worse, she couldn't stop the involuntary feeling of heat spreading throughout her body when his gaze had dropped to her thighs. At that moment she couldn't be entirely confident he had actually looked, maybe it was her mind playing tricks – but then, he'd made that comment about putting on clothes for work. It was clear to her then. Draco Malfoy had stared at her legs, and it made her feel things she shouldn't.
Hermione was left feeling confused and annoyed for giving Malfoy any thought at all. Her focus should be on her new job opportunity and the millions of questions she had regarding it. Closing her eyes, she took a calming breath she shouldn't be in need of, and hurried to make sure her potions weren't spoilt.
-o-o-o-
"Hmm, maybe not," Hermione murmured while staring at the reflection in the mirror. She tossed the dress aside and continued to re-organise her entire wardrobe onto her bed. She picked up another dress, a yellow one with a squared neckline that reached the top of her knees. It made her look like she had curves she didn't. She frowned when she had to struggle it on, finding it to be tighter around the top, as if her breasts had swelled the same way her stomach did in those dreams she'd had. At least she could be certain there was zero chance she was pregnant, she hadn't had sex since Ron – which would bring her celibacy up to about half a year. Something Pansy was all too eager reminding her of.
She pulled another dress from the bed and placed it in front of her body, wondering if it would be Pansy-approved. Not that she needed it to be, it was just easier than having her friend force another shopping spree on her. Studying herself in the mirror, she thought she'd really grown into her features, she wasn't obviously beautiful like Ginny, but she wasn't ugly either. When she put in effort - which was on very rare occasions, and when meeting Pansy - she could really look nice. Not that it mattered, her physical appearance were for none to judge. With age she'd come to the realisation she did not exist for anyone else. She existed for herself, and she valued mind over beauty any day of the week.
Her eyes narrowed at the mirror while viewing the black dress on. It showed miles of cleavage she didn't even know she possessed. With a disgruntled sigh she struggled out of it and tossed it back onto the bed, deciding on the yellow one. She donned a same coloured robe that reached her waist, and hovered all of the clothing back into her wardrobe with her wand.
She had grown to love her Friday afternoons with Pansy, just as much as she loved her Thursdays with Harry. They both added something to her life. Since Ginny's carrier as a professional quidditch player took off, she didn't see her as much, but they did write and tried to meet up whenever it was possible.
Then, there was Ron. The boy she'd thought of as family, who had become just that, but instead of someone you wanted to start a family with he felt more and more like a brother. Maybe it wasn't possible to grow up so closely and have good sex. It lacked passion and flame.
Ron wanted them to work past it. She wanted to pleasure herself rather than have him do it. Safe to say, it wasn't working out the way they had hoped. Even though they parted on good terms, it was a brick hard reality to face. To see all the images of a potential future completely vanish. What do you do when there is no one to blame? When neither did anything wrong, and when you leave a person behind that you still hold gallons of love for? Ron was safe and her constant protector, but when he pulled his body into hers it didn't feel right. His touch was too soft and his eyes didn't demand her surrender.
Hermione applied a coat of mascara with care and gave a small smile at her own reflection, already longing to fill up on chitchat and sweet wine.
-o-o-o-
It wasn't hard to spot Pansy even though the restaurant was at full capacity and she was short. She was wearing a black leather dress and makeup that made her eyes pop, leaning against the bar and innocently flirting with the bartender. According to the world of Pansy, one always made friends with the bartender or chef, because it ensured no foul play to be made to drinks or food. Hermione just figured it was an excuse for Pansy to turn on the charm.
Their friendship came at them from nowhere. They'd met when Hermione was doing an eight-week apprenticeship in Italy and Pansy was hunting for an article. When Pansy got wind of Hermione being in Italy too, she took a detour in her plans to try and get an article with the famous 'Golden Girl' - the distasteful nickname she'd been given after the war. Hermione reluctantly agreed to the interview when she realised the girl was more persistent than Rita Skeeter and after promises it would put her in good light only. A bottle of wine in, Hermione realised there was more to the woman than her mean girl tricks. When she wanted to, she could be incredibly charismatic, it was in the way her smile seemed to hold secrets, and the way she never felt the need to excuse herself to anyone. Hermione shared things with reluctance, even with the people closest to her, and Pansy over shared, and that with enthusiasm. In many ways Pansy reminded her of Ginny, they both possessed a quint ability of bringing her out of her comfort zone and make it feel effortless.
They greeted each other with a smothering hug and Pansy said she'd managed to get them a good table in the garden. The spot was perfect for absorbing the afternoon sunshine. Hermione plunged down on the chair and found herself surrounded by the pleasant scent of gardenias and fresh grass. She did a quick muffilato, because one never knew what topic might come up when Pansy was involved. She'd learned that the hard way.
Pansy's dark short hair was occasionally caught in the breeze and Hermione wondered how her hair was always so perfectly cut and shiny. Then, Pansy opened her mouth and the illusion of a proper woman with elegant hair evaporated into thin air. "Did you accidently use an engorgio?" Pansy said and gestured towards Hermione's chest area, pulling her cat eye sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look.
"Did I what now?" Hermione furrowed her brows and looked down to where Pansy had gestured.
"An engorgio, the enlargement charm? Hmm?"
"Ha-Ha." Hermione rolled her eyes, as if she didn't know of the charm. "I absolutely did not," she said with feigned indignation.
"Mm, hmm, so then why are you practically spilling out of your dress? It didn't look like that when you got it just three weeks ago," Pansy said, frowning humorously. It was a wonder Pansy hadn't graduated with top grades since her memory seemed to recall every single detail, but then again, maybe that was only when it came to clothes.
"I don't know, too much chocolate?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"Chocolate does not two cup sizes enlarge."
She hadn't gone up two full cup sizes had she? Pansy gave her a strange look that Hermione decided to neglect.
"If we're done discussing my breasts … what´s new with you?"
Pansy exhaled theatrically and crossed her legs. "Oh, you know. The usual. Chasing another article. It's the dream-life really." She snorted.
"Still not going to tell me about the mystery guy?"
"No, not yet," she said determinately. "Still very fresh, nothing much to tell. Although he is incredibly good. Like gooooood, you know what I mean?" She wiggled her eyebrows and Hermione snickered knowingly.
"Alright, so what's the harm in telling me then? You've told me about Zac, Oliver and so forth, why not this guy? What's different?" For the last couple of weeks Pansy had been seeing someone new, and for reasons Hermione had yet to understand, there was so much secrecy around whom he was. All she knew was he seemed to make her happy and … dare she say, giddy?
"Well. I mean. Zac and Oliver and whoever, they're just for fun. But … This guy, he's different. I usually never want more, but with him. I can see it, you know? A house, a life."
Hermione couldn't stop the huge smile taking over her face. "Really? That's amazing Pans, I want that for you. Still, that's not a reason for not telling me who it is. Unless it's someone I already know and hate?" That really was the only plausible explanation Hermione thought.
In normal Pansy fashion she ignored the question with a graceful smile and announced she was going to go and get them a bottle of rosé, as if waiting for a waitress was beeneath her. Hermione shook her head and wondered if she would be let in on whom the man was before they had acquired their own manor and filled it with children.
While waiting for the rosé Hermione placed her sunglasses on top of her head and leaned back on the chair to fully soak up the afternoon sun. Desperately craving the vitamin D Mother Nature so kindly offered. The world turned a pleasant soft pink when she closed her eyes.
"Does miss require anything else?"
Hermione peered open an eye and saw Pansy setting down two wineglasses and pouring pink liquid into them.
"Yes, an answer to my question, please."
Pansy snickered. "You'll have to wait. I'll tell you soon enough."
Hermione absentmindedly traced the shiny blue and white mosaic tiles on the table. "My expectations for this guy is twofold, I imagine a rich bloke, slightly older than us with nice hair and a serious face. I also imagine several faces of Slytherin's I have beef with." She studied Pansy's face for a reaction but she gave nothing away. It left Hermione wondering if that was something pureblood's were taught as toddlers - how to have a constant look of boredom with a hint of arrogance. Pansy was a master at it.
Hermione reached for her glass, sipping slowly. She hummed happily when the taste immediately transferred her to the Parkinson's villa in Italy, sitting poolside in a bikini surrounded by lemon trees, sharing thoughts of how their lives had changed all while getting tipsy with newfound friendship and rosé.
"Gods I miss Italy," she murmured with eyes closed again and her face turned towards the sun.
"Me too, and my tan." Hermione could practically hear the dissatisfied pout. "Although, I suppose you miss Italy even more. You really need to find a new place. Or move in with me, that's fine too."
It wasn't the first time her friend had worked in a way to declare her distaste for Hermione's living arrangement. In truth, it was an awful place to live, but she didn't mind it too much.
"Well I can't. I mean, then I'd find out whom it is you're seeing wouldn't I? Besides, I'm fine where I am, and you'd hate the smell of all my potions."
Pansy took a mouthful of wine and rested her back heavily against the chair. "True. Still, the offer stands."
Hermione gave her a small smile, it wasn't that she didn't appreciate the gesture, she'd appreciated Harry's offer too when he'd volunteered his home. She just, wasn't ready to move, because then she had to start doing something with her life again, and she wasn't ready.
She rolled her eyes at herself; she knew it was excuses. Her life had been stuck in the same place for far too long. Since Ron, since Australia.
"Sooo … Fucked anyone lately?" Pansy asked as if she was inquiring about what she had for dinner last night. The question brought Hermione out of her headspace at rapid speed.
"Pansy!"
"So, that's a no? It's only healthy. Aaand maybe it would knock you off your routine playing a seventy year old."
"I'm perfectly fine thank you."
"If you say so." Pansy didn't look convinced.
"I do."
"Fine."
Hermione breathed out a loud sigh. Between her very vivid dreams of procreation and lack of male companionship, she was rather starving for some action.
"I know this is a… delicate topic, but, do you see children in your future? With this guy?"
Pansy looked at her quizzically and seemed to ponder the question for a beat. "I think so. Down the line, sure. Carry on the legacy and all that. Why'd you ask?"
Hermione took a deep breath. She might as well let her know, she needed to confess to someone and Pansy never judged, even though she had that look about her.
"Don't know really. Just, these dreams I've been having - of being pregnant. I find myself waking up with this sense of purpose and realising how far I am from all of that. Which is so odd. I never usually think of such things. Usually it's the career paths not taken that bother me." She realised as she spoke how ridiculous it sounded. Why was she dreaming about pregnancy? Let alone, finding she was yearning for it more so than a successful career?
Pansy frowned, and glanced at Hermione's breasts again. "That is strange." She set down her glass and sucked in her bottom lip, looking like she was mulling something over. "Why didn't you? Take any other career paths I mean? You told me about that offer for the position as a potions professor at Hogwarts, seemed to be right up your Diagon Alley."
Hermione groaned softly. "Let's just drop it. I don't know why. Wrong timing?"
"You're brewing pepper up potions and hiding away in your flat - thought you were destined for greatness or something."
"No, that's Harry." She gave a half-hearted smile. "I did my part in the war. I deserve a break. And I do experiment with other potions, the pepper ups are just the ones I sell on."
She itched the juncture between her neck and shoulder. "Also. I think I'm getting a rash," she said and twisted her wrists up. They were red from her constant scratching.
She noticed Pansy's eyes go wide before schooling her features. "What?" Hermione asked.
"I- nothing. Anything else, strange, going on?" Pansy eyed her sceptically, but Hermione could see something else simmering behind it, worry perhaps. It didn't sit well with her and she needed to steer to a new topic.
Hermione lowered her sunglasses back on her nose and swirled the pink liquid in the glass. "Why - yes. Did you know Malfoy is out? And might I say, looking mighty fine, not at all like he's been imprisoned." When the words were out Hermione recognized this wasn't exactly the direction she had intended. It was one of those times Pansy's charisma did a number on her. Only in the presence of this woman did Hermione ever share so wildly.
Pansy beamed, and Hermione figured that she at least had managed to get that worry to go away. "That boy has always been fine. Unless, you mean Malfoy senior? Although to be fair, he's always been fine too," Pansy said with all seriousness and a dreamy expression that let on a little too much just how fine she thought Lucius to be.
Hermione couldn't help a chuckle, shaking her head slightly. "Obviously, I'm talking about Draco – and he looked more like a man than a boy," she blurted before stopping herself. It was too late now. Pansy got that wide-eyed look again, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced with a cheeky smile. She leaned forward and tapped her nails against the glass.
"A man you say? Do I sense some heated angry shagging on your to do list? Hmm? Some juicy I hate-you-so-much-let's-fuck-it-out-of-our-systems kind of sex?"
Hermione made a face. "You're delusional. Just because I'm not as sex-crazed as you," she fixed her with a teasing look, "doesn't mean I don't notice things. He had all that nice cheek bones, broad shoulders, steely eyes kind of look going on," she said and flashes of said eyes had a shiver running down her spine. "Besides, he's your ex."
"Yeah, well. We were kids back then, and I just wanted him because it was expected. He's a Malfoy, I'm a Parkinson, it made sense at the time. I think to him, I was something to pass the time and please his father. Sounds stupid, I know. But, we used each other, just in different ways."
"That's sad," Hermione said, remembering the rumours buzzing around the Slytherin prince and princess. A perfect match made in hell she'd thought at the time.
Pansy waved her hand dismissively. "Not really. When we both matured he became a great friend believe it or not. We always liked each other, just not as girlfriend and boyfriend. That was more for show." Her friend smiled again, it was that special smile that made it look like there was more to the story, secrets that were hidden away.
Draco Malfoy, a great friend? As much as she'd never thought she'd ever hear those words spoken, she'd never imagined her friendship with Pansy either. If she'd learnt something from it, it was to keep an open mind. People weren't who they were before the war. Including her.
"You didn't answer my question. Did you know he was out?"
Pansy took another mouthful of wine and nodded. "Yeah, mother told me his sentence had been reduced. Narcissa is worried out of her mind something is going to happen to him." She said gravely. "Curious that you know though. How exactly is that, have you actually been outside and talked to people?"
Hermione was used to the small digs, it wouldn't be them without it. "No actually. He showed up at my door, offering me a job. Technically he was asking for the Ministry."
"We talked about work already, why didn't you tell me?" She put her puggish nose in the air and eyed her with judgment, looking as though Hermione had stolen her secret man from under her.
"Stop with the theatrics," Hermione said. "It's just for some sort of potions project, not a permanent thing."
Hermione tossed back what was left in the glass and quickly refilled both glasses. She explained her apprehension about working alongside Malfoy, the apprehension part going straight past Pansy who seemed to find the information intriguing. Hermione had finished her third glass by the time Pansy stopped with the many crude remarks about how their hands would accidently meet while chopping the ingredients, and how the heat in the potions lab would have them undressing. Hermione just pulled her shades down again and tilted her head to the sun in ignorance.
When they parted ways and Hermione ambled up the hill to her building, she pondered if she should add some juicy I hate-you-so-much-let's-fuck-it-out-of-our-systems kind of sex to the to do list. Sex was just sex after all. Women wanted it just as much as men, when consensual, no harm no foul in her playbook.
But no - that would not happen. Her and Draco Malfoy? In what universe?
Although … There was something about him. She kept going back to the image of him at her doorstep, running his fingers through his blonde hair and fixing her with that … that look, and the way his eyes drifted to her thighs at least twice. Even through his robe she could tell he was strong, masculine, like he could pin her down to the bed with ease, lick her throat and bite her.
Bite her?
She felt her cheeks heat and brushed it off, absentmindedly itching her left wrist and grimacing when she realised her nails were starting to draw blood.
-o-o-o-
Thank you for checking out Crushed fairy dust.
HUGE thanks to anyone who commented on the last chapter. Loved reading every single one. I would LOVE to know what you think of this one! Do you like Pansy?
Updates will be made Sunday's every other week for now. Changes to schedule might occur.
Comments are highly encouraged, they bring me life (and I truly mean that) I'm so excited to read your thoughts on this one.
Lots of love.
