Here's chapter five, please enjoy!

I do feel the need to point out there is a little smut happening in this chapter. If that is not your thing, or you're not of age, do not read the passage marked with **

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 didn't have many close friends; he liked to keep people at a safe distance. Blaise Zabini was one of the few people Draco truly considered a friend. He'd had brought him homemade apple pie and a particularly expensive brandy the day Draco had been released. They'd shared that brandy by a roaring fire in the dark and he'd listened intently, looked at him with kindness and concern as Draco reluctantly confided in him about Azkaban. It was the only time he'd ever spoken about it to anyone. He talked about the cold, the way days and nights blurred together, the loneliness, the guilt, the screams, the way the prisoners died like flies and how he was scared for his own life. So much so, he at times wished it all to end. Draco never cried, but teardrops fell from his eyes without permission that night.

"I got you man," Blaise had said and wrapped him into a hug. Not that man-hug thing men seemed to do, no. A real hug, the kind that he needed from a friend. They never spoke of it again. Blaise knew him well enough to not bring the subject up unless Draco instigated it.

As he sat across from him now, he was struck by how much he wished things were different. He should've taken Blaise's warnings of his growing involvement with the Dark lord at face value when he was 16.

Draco cupped his pint with one hand, letting the cold beverage cool his palms.

"How's it going then, working with Granger?" Blaise looked up from his lager, his dark brown eyes curious. "Does she still have that, I'm smarter than you attitude? Oh no, wait, think that's you," He grinned widely.

Draco grimaced. "Funny." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Honestly? It's going," he said with a frown. "But she's been late a couple of times."

Blaise let out a surprised sound. "Hermione Granger, late? Scandalous." He took a large swig of his beer.

"Right? I think it's because of her short legs, the size of the bunker and her poor sense of direction."

"Been noticing her legs, have you?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco stifled a grin and slumped back in his chair. "Always had a thing for legs. Not ashamed of it."

Hermione and Draco had worked together for almost a week now and once they got started brewing, sharing thoughts, it was smooth. He'd never had to work with her academically before. She worked off of his conclusions and if she disagreed, she did it in a way that wasn't insulting, but insightful. She'd already constructed four recipes. Draco suspected she continued on even after she got home. Along the ingredients list she'd scribble down her reasons for the usage of each one. It was impressive and made his work a breeze.

Draco was a person who paid attention to the details; he'd always been that way. It was why he did his tie with a little extra care in the mornings, why he liked to buy the finest coffee roast and why he knew when his mother told a lie, even though she always had everyone else fooled. It was also the reason for noticing how Granger occasionally would worry her bottom lip when contemplating and how her eyes seemed to give a little sparkle when a new idea formed.

He didn't know if she knew this, but when she walked, she did it with a certain sway to her hips. She had a hard time keeping up when they walked around the different rooms of the Bunker. He'd find himself adapting to it, walking along in her speed and handing her the ingredients she needed from the top shelves. At times, it almost felt domestic inside the small potions lab, and he'd catch himself actually enjoying working with her.

The muggle pub was buzzing and he'd already noticed three women making eyes at him. He usually reserved his pub visits for Saturday's, but after what happened when he showered today, he felt he might be in need of distraction. Good for him, Blaise never turned down the offer of a beer. A cold one with a friend seemed a better idea than another night of casual sex, even though his father's words echoed in his head at times 'Alpha's have needs Draco. It is natural to give in to them, until you find a more permanent partner'. He'd tried it both ways. Giving up sex all together for a while – willingly and unwillingly – and now he was doing the casual one off thing. Neither of the two options was actually satisfying and it made him a little sad.

He'd decided on some me time this Thursday afternoon, something not unusual for any bloke, especially not for an Alpha. Reaching for the last memory shared with a woman, he found himself getting hard. He gave a light stroke at first, smoothing his foreskin over down and brushed his thumb over the glans. He imagined the blonde woman. She was underneath him, making pleasant noises and moaning his name. His hand moved in languid strokes, and he could feel his breath coming out in short pants. Gods, she felt good, her body pressed tight against his, her hair fawned out over the pillow. He moved his hand a little faster, his fingers giving just the right amount of pressure. Tension started to build in his abdomen and just when he was devoted to the pleasure imagination and hand movements could master, the straight blonde hair turned to curly brown. A cluster of freckles appeared on her nose, and when he looked at her eyes, they were no longer blue. They too had shifted, to a soft brown colour with a slight sparkle to in the irises. The woman underneath him had fully transformed into Hermione Granger.

The change was gradual, and when his aroused filled mess of a brain noticed, he was already too far-gone, the pleasure too great. He came to the thoughts of her warm breath against his neck and the tips of his fingers digging into her damn fine thighs, pulling them closer to her body, allowing him to go deeper. Indecent sounds were coming out of his mouth. He imagined what it would feel like move inside of her, how she'd moan his name. In his own head, she was a screamer, exactly what he preferred. He leaned his head against the cool tiles when his come dripped over his hand, barely stopping himself from grunting out her name. He caught his breath, with eyes closed and the warm stream washing away his sin.

He could spend the rest of the shower feeling conflicted, but he had other things to concern himself with – such as the number of people wanting him dead.

-o-o-o-

Hermione had imagined she'd struggle to adapt to her new job, not being self-employed and able to schedule her life as she saw fit. She'd been wrong. Working with Malfoy had turned out to go a lot easier than expected; he'd even been quite helpful, albeit annoyed at times. The two potions they'd tried out so far had failed miserably, and Malfoy seemed frustrated about it. Hermione on the other hand was not. It was all going according to plan. Two failed potions was a good thing, because it meant she could cross off two possible draughts from her list. She'd constructed four recipes already, and her highest hopes were pinned to the fourth one. Adding the ginger root to the second one showed promises, and she believed they were going in the right direction.

Malfoy always took an early lunch, he'd said he liked eating alone. Hermione found this slightly sad, but didn't probe. Maybe he liked his alone-time. She'd opted for a late lunch. That way he'd have a little time to work alone – she was hoping it might lessen the number or sighs he gave in the afternoons when she couldn't stop talking. When she'd arrived to the break room, she'd been surprised it wasn't empty. During the week she'd learned Theodore Nott had lunch with the others, but never rushed back to work like the rest of them. Instead, he'd drink a cup of coffee while Hermione ate. Theodore was pleasant to talk with, but he still insisted on not giving anything away regarding his work within the programme. It didn't stop him from asking about the potions progress however. At times, Hermione felt the conversation was more of a monologue, but he never made her feel she was talking too much.

He listened intently, joked a little on Malfoy's behalf and asked questions that always had her having to elaborate. He'd even ask about her time spent abroad, how she'd liked Russia. Hermione shared about her predisposition for the language and how she'd always wished she could read Russian literature in the original language and not have to rely on the English translations. It turned out, Theodore had read Crime and Punishment, as well. They spent the next two lunches discussing it enthusiastically. On the third lunch, he wasn't there, and Hermione sulked more than she should about it. He was there again the next day, giving her that blinding smile. His voice was relaxing somehow and he always managed to make her laugh. The only thing that disturbed her was the way she tended to lose herself in his sky blue eyes, and how much she relished watching him eat fruit.

Disturbing, indeed.

It was after that fourth lunch, she'd turned around to see the familiar red hair and the smile she'd come to recognize as hers. She'd known since Sunday that Ronald Weasley was a part of the team, but she hadn't seen him until that Thursday. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, their eyes saying words they didn't know how to voice. When he opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug she practically jumped into his embrace. His long arms wrapped around her and she just barely stopped herself from drawing in a breath of his familiar scent. Instead, she relaxed in his arms and held him tight, saying they'd be okay without sound. He patted her back lightly and they each took a step back.

"So, you work here now," he said, and she could detect a slight tremble to his voice.

"Yeah well, Harry can't do anything without me," she said with feigned seriousness and an undignified grimace. Ron chuckled and she realised how much she'd missed the warmth of it.

"You okay, and all?" Ron asked and put his hands into the pockets of his robes.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah." Apart from her ever growing rash and the googly eyes she was unable to stop making at the men there, she was good. She scratched her neck.

"You?"

"Yeah," he said. "Neville and I are going for a lunch run tomorrow, it being Friday after all. You still like the beetroot, goat-cheese salad from Marjorie's?"

"You know I do. Could eat it everyday," Hermione said and smiled up at him. She heard footsteps coming closer, and saw Neville appear as he rounded the corner, she waved awkwardly. Ron looked over his shoulder, tilted his chin up in acknowledgment. "We're heading out. Got a lead up in Romford, I'll se you around?" he said, his eyes locking onto hers.

"See you," she said, remembering it was the last sentence she'd said before closing the door behind her as she left that cloudy day.

He gave her a smile, the kind that made crinkles by his eyes– and just like that, she began to hope for that friendship they'd promised each other that day she'd packed her things into cardboard boxes.

-o-o-o-

The following Friday, Hermione walked into the potions lab to find it empty. She'd thought she'd enjoy being in there alone, but she never did. The room seemed ghostly quiet without Malfoy. Usually, when she'd arrive back from her late lunch, they'd discuss any breakthroughs or thoughts that occurred while the other took their break. She frowned slightly and opened up the glass cabinet. Her eyes scanned the shelves, in search for the label that said aconite. It was an ingredient mostly used in Wolfsbane potions, but it was also used in the awakening potion and Hermione thought adding it might have the desired effect on the third recipe. Maybe it would help awaken the person's mind, open it up to legilimens. She'd studied it specifically in Albania. Immersed in her own thoughts, she startled when she felt a body press up behind her.

"Looking for this?" he said as he reached for the jar filled with aconite on the top shelf. It could be in her imagination, but she could've sworn she felt his private parts touching her back.

"Yes," she murmured but it came out a bit more hoarse than she wanted it to. Could he tell how he affected her, standing so close? Draco was still wearing that perfume even though she'd expressed she wished he wouldn't. His rumbling laugh had practically vibrated through her body and then he'd said he wasn't wearing any, thought it a waste to put anything on when he was just going to work. Hermione believed it to be a lie and was convinced he'd put more on as the days went by.

He wiggled the jar in front of her, lowering his head slightly, his face just millimetres from hers. If she were to tilt her head a little she'd feel his skin against hers. Closing her eyes momentarily, she schooled her rattled features and spun around. Malfoy took a step back. It was a good thing he did, because she felt the sudden urge to touch her lips to his.

Was she a sexual harassment case waiting to happen?

He stretched his hand forward, giving her the jar, with a grin plastered on his face. She'd classified that grin as illegal on the second day. Even though they worked in an actual bunker, and formal clothing was optional, all the men there always wore suit trousers, a shirt and leather holster that draped around their shoulders. Malfoy's wand rested in said holster and he seemed to have his trousers custom fitted. The muscles on his thighs and glutes appealed to her specifically. Hermione would usually opt for a pair of jeans, but every single pair she owned appeared to fit her uncomfortably these days. Therefore, she'd dug out the skirts Pansy had shoved in her hands and non-magically charmed her to buy.

As he turned around, she braced herself. If he'd lived in 800 to 300 BCE, Greece, they'd carve his arse into the finest stone for preservation.

Perv.

"Where have you been?" she asked. It sounded like she as accusing him of arriving late to a date. It wasn't fair of her, since she'd been a few minutes late several times. She blamed the labyrinth they called their workplace for it.

He turned his head over his shoulder and grinned even wider. "To test out the potion, of course."

She was a little nauseated by the thought of testing potions on someone that didn't have a choice to consent. She'd talked with Harry about it the other day. It was the first time she'd gotten the full weight of his authority. He'd spoken calmly, telling her he had no say as to how the programme was operated. It was above his head; this was how the Ministry wanted the programme to be acted out. Harry made it clear, she was not to question the methods used. Trotting back to the potions lab, she'd mumbled curse words under her breath, such as 'don't fucking hire me if I'm not allowed to speak up'. Speaking for the underdog was kind of her thing, and if she gave the methods to this programme any thought outside of the potions lab, she suspected she'd have to hand in her resignation sooner rather than later. Agitation grew as she took a few wrong turns on the way back, but it lessened by Malfoy's small smile as she plunged down on the settee.

Malfoy turned his focus to the cauldron when all she gave him was a blank stare. "I know it wouldn't work, but I was right to test it."

Hermione's eyebrows tightened. "How come?"

"Because, it proved my thesis on page three," he said smugly.

Hermione felt a little dizzy. "Oh, so then –"

"So we need to cross out armadillo bile already," he said assuredly.

Hermione watched as he stirred with a steady hand, saw how his lean fingers gripped the handle. She absently licked her lips, wondering if his big hands could completely cover her breast. Did he like nipple-play? Was he a biter? What would his tongue feel like, flicking her –

"What's up with you?"

Hermione almost jumped at the sound, not realising he had his head turned again.

"I–I was just, exploring an idea." She gave a strange smile – at least she wasn't lying.

"Let's hear then."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat but hoped it wasn't showing. 'I was exploring the idea of your hands and tongue on my tits'. She shook her head.

"Oh, No, no, I– not fully formed." Also not a complete lie.

Malfoy gave her a weird look and she rushed to the settee and buried her nose in a book. Trying to find a passage on aconite. Anything, anything to stop from gawking at him like a complete moron again. He didn't even have to try. His mere presence was enough for her to unravel if she allowed herself to look a little too long, allowed her eyes to linger at the nice curve of his backside. In fact, she should just learn how to work with her eyes closed so her focus wouldn't divert every time he moved, or stood, or sat, or talked or–or, anything.

What was wrong with her. She shouldn't be looking at him like he was the beetroot and goat-cheese salad from Marjorie's.

When he slumped down on the settee next to her, he leaned his head to the side, resting it against the soft fabric. He looked a little drained from his encounter with Yaxley and she felt like soothing him. His hair looked soft, she was almost compelled rake her hands through it. With him so close, it was impossible to block out how good he smelled. Her nose detected cherries, cinnamon; something warm, and she wanted desperately to trace her fingertips behind his ear, down his jawline and lick down his exposed throat.

She folded her hands under herself, feeling she deserved the strange looks Malfoy gave her the rest of the day.a

Who the fuck sits on their hands? If he didn't believe the rumours before, maybe now he did, because she was acting like an utter idiot.

They didn't talk much more that Friday.

-o-o-o-

"Pansy, I need advice," Hermione said tentatively. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms round her knees. She was relived there was no work tomorrow, and in immediate need of her Pansy-time. They'd just shared a very ill cooked dinner, and Hermione didn't have it in her heart to tell her friend she should never cook for her again.

"Well, spill," Pansy said, taking a large swallow of wine.

"I've been having inappropriate thoughts."

"Good for you!"

"That's – that's so not what I needed to hear." Hermione folded her hands on top of her knees and propped her chin on them. Her gaze fixed on the granite table at Pansy's townhouse.

"And I'm not a religious confessional booth."

"Fair enough."

"Or –" Her eyes lit up, "maybe I can play along." She cleared her throat dramatically and sat up straight. "What troubles you my dear?"

"Get off it."

"Make up your mind woman." A new crystal glass was placed in front of her. "Suppose this requires more wine." With a flick of her wand, the bottle of amber liquid rose up, and tilted over the glass. They were quiet for a moment; listening to the clunk, clunk of the wine being poured.

"I almost kissed Draco and I want to squeeze his bum. Am I not just a horrible person?" She hid her face against her knees, peeking up at her friend, who was smiling from ear to ear, showing all of her upper row teeth.

"You two almost kissed?"

"Listen to me," Hermione said with urgency, "I almost kissed him, as in he had nothing to do with it. I swear I am losing my mind, send me to Saint Mungo's and leave me there! Write me letters to console me and do come visit on Fridays."

Pansy finally stopped smiling. It only made Hermione more worried. "What a fine idea," she lied. "How's your rash?"

"What about my rash? Are you not hearing me? I almost kissed him. When he is near, I can't concentrate and when Theo eats an apple, I feel like bursting into flames like a frickin' Phoenix."

She saw how Pansy tensed, just for a second, before collecting herself. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "I thought it was just Draco?"

"No, yes, I don't know! Draco just smells sooo good, and Theo's voice and the way he walks, and – and–"

"Hermione, calm down. I've never seen you this distraught before. I think your so called, rash, is more than just some common thing. You need to get it checked. Theo and Draco, they're– never-mind you'll find out soon enough. But then, you can't be – it's so rare, not possible, but the rash and the–"

Hermione managed to roll her eyes in the midst of her despair. "You're starting to sound like me," she cut in. She sighed and Pansy looked occupied by her own thoughts.

"I can't get it checked Pans, what should I say?" she whined and fluttered with her hand, "'Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, I have this rash and I'm also thinking I want my colleagues to bite me and fuck me into oblivion.' Yeah, that will be a wonderful thing to say to the healers at Saint Mungo's, I can see the headlines already. Golden girl, caught in an office sexual harassment scandal. Aurors Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott are to give their testimony's to the Wizengamont this Wednesday." She screamed into the table.

Pansy choked slightly on her wine. She covered her mouth with a hand and coughed a few times.

"Did you just say you want them to bite you?" A slight look of panic crossed her face momentarily; Hermione barely caught it through her own whining and self-pity. "Do you trust me? If so, I have someone I think you should see. He's a sex-wizard. He will keep it under wraps."

"I'm not sleeping with a sex-worker!" she half screamed half groaned.

"He is not a sex-worker. Sex-wizards are highly misunderstood in the wizarding society," she gave her a stern look, "you, missy, are in no way to sleep with him. His name is Ralf Johansen, and he is the best there is." She went on to explain how sex-wizards are experts on the field of sex-magic, only pausing in her rant to take mouthfuls of wine. She shoved a card in her hand and demanded she give him a floo-call, right now, to schedule a meeting as soon as possible.

"Will not." Hermione said, feeling feverish.

"I thought you were supposed to be the logical and grounded one of the two of us."

Hermione scowled. "I do not know how this is going to help. You've explained very little and frankly, the look on your face makes me worried." She took a deep breath, "but if it helps stop me from touching people who most likely do not wish to be touched, I shall see this Ralf person."

Pansy raised her glass in salute.

-o-o-o-

Thank you for checking out Crushed fairy dust.

LOVED reading all of your comments on the last chapter, thank YOU if you left a little something. I am super eager to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Are you as excited as me for what's next? What are your thoughts on Draco and Hermione in this chapter?

Updates will be made Sunday's every other week for now. Changes to schedule might occur. (as you may now by now, sorry..)

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Lots of love.