The nerve of him. He hadn't spoken to her privately once since the night in her office, and now he wanted a relationship?! After watching him flirt with every other woman – and hearing him do more than flirt from the other side of closed doors – how in Merlin's name was she supposed to trust him?
She only felt a modicum of guilt remembering that she had gotten off and he hadn't. Well, she was sure there would be a crowd of witches awaiting his return. He wouldn't be lonely for long.
Hermione swerved her way back toward the entrance, ready to grab her coat and head home, but first, she ran into the Minister who delayed her long enough for the mistletoe branches to catch up to her.
"My! Someone hasn't been doing nearly enough mistletoe kissing this evening!"
She glared behind her at the line of bobbing branches and saw Malfoy returning to the ballroom, smoothing his hair, cheeks still flushed in that very becoming way—
"Yes, they've been quite a bother this evening, Minister," she replied, tearing her eyes off him as a "Vanessa" bounced over to him. "I'm doing my best to ignore them. Don't want any inappropriate moments between coworkers." She smiled up at him.
"Oh, nonsense! It's the spirit of the season!" the minister cheered. Hermione lifted a brow. "Carl! Carl!" She looked to find the Undersecretary to the Minister, a handsome young man in a blue mask, trotting over. "Miss Granger is in need of a mistletoe kiss. Several it seems!"
The Minister smiled, patted his round belly, and gestured that Carl should do the deed.
"You're under no obligation, Mr. Undersecretary, thank you—" Hermione tried.
"It would be my pleasure, Miss Granger." Carl smiled at her, hazel eyes taking in her face, her neck, down to her chest and back up again.
Hermione blinked at him. Wow. Where had he come from?
She nodded, letting him press his lips firmly to hers, fingers light on her jaw. When she opened her eyes, she looked up, finding one satisfied mistletoe dancing away, looking for another victim.
"Thank you, Carl," she said, batting her lashes at him.
"You have several more there…" He nodded at the ten branches having their own little disco party above her head. She noticed that the one she tore up had joined the party, tiny pieces hanging around the edges.
Hermione chanced a glance over at Malfoy. His silver eyes cut across the room, glaring certain death to Carl. The Vanessa had vanished.
Oh, how delicious.
"I would hate to ruin the 'spirit of the season,' as the Minister said." Hermione smiled coyly at the Minister, who was rocking on his heels with the glee of playing matchmaker. "Thank you very much, Carl,"—she winked at him—"but Minister, do you think you could find a dozen or so unattached young men who might be able to help me with these mistletoe?"
And that's how Hermione found herself with a line of blokes, ready to kiss her. Just as Malfoy had predicted earlier in the evening.
She'd check in with him every so often, seeing him watching her, surly and sipping at his scotch. An Olivia would wander over and try to talk to him, and he'd smile, whisper something to her, and she'd pout and walk away.
Hermione frowned, and turned to Fernando, or Maxwell…. whoever. He was nineteen and eager and when he pulled Hermione in for a kiss, he wrapped his arm around her waist and let his lips trace across hers, teasing with his lips parting. Nineteen-year-olds. Always trying to prove something.
She actually blushed when he pulled away, letting his hand slide away from her back, around her waist and down to her hip. His bright blue eyes drifted down her face to her lips as he thanked her for the opportunity, and Hermione was suddenly very aware that she hadn't had an opportunity to truly calm down after her romp with Malfoy in the bathroom.
She bit her lip and said, "My pleasure," feeling her face heating and her chest flushing.
When he moved away, she giggled to herself. Maybe she should thank Malfoy for arranging for these mistletoes to attack her. She'd had more action tonight than she'd had all year.
Once the last of the line had had their turn on her lips, she thanked the Minister for his assistance. It was almost midnight, and though no one really cared about the unmasking judging from the many people who had already removed theirs, she knew most people would start leaving at 12:01.
Malfoy had disappeared from his corner sometime between Barney from Magical Games and Sports and Connor from Accidents and Catastrophes. Both had been light and delicate with her, tracing their fingers across her jaw and pulling away after their one kiss.
She headed to grab her coat, bidding a goodnight to Harry and Ginny when she passed. Ginny tried to get her to spill about the line of men she had just indulged, and Hermione promised to tell her tomorrow at the Burrow. She didn't find a blond head in the crowd, so she assumed Malfoy had disappeared with one of his witches.
Good.
He needed to get off. And she needed to forget that his stupid idea had ever crossed his lips.
The coatroom at a party like this was just an expandable closet that you presented your ticket at. No attendant, the coat just floated out to you once you flashed your ticket. Hermione approached, digging her ticket out of a concealed pocket in her dress where she kept her wand, and flashed the ticket into the room.
She waited. Nothing.
She rolled her eyes and drew her wand. "Accio Hermione Granger's coat."
A rustling in the back corner, behind a few lines of coats. It must be stuck on something.
Hermione entered the closet, heading in the direction of her struggling coat. She pushed through trench coats and stoles and gauzy scarves. In the corner of the room she cast another Accio.
"Looking for this?"
She jumped, finding Draco standing behind her with her coat.
He smirked at her.
"Yes, thank you." She held her hand out for her coat, feeling his eyes drinking her in.
She watched him step forward, heart beating fast.
"Turn around, Granger."
There was, of course, a very high possibility that he simply meant to place her coat on her shoulders for her. She tried to convince her lungs of that as she turned, facing the wall…
A moment hanging on the end of a string, and then fingers at her wrists, tracing up her arms, curving over her elbows. She took a calming breath, feeling his exhale on the back of her neck. His fingers continued up to her shoulders, swirling around and back down, drifting over the soft skin inside her arms, before taking her wrists and planting them on the wall in front of her, over a fur coat.
"Is this what you want?" he misted over her temple, pressing his body against her back.
"Yes," she hissed.
He pressed his mouth under her ear, and she tilted her head to give him her neck. She heard his buckle clicking open, then felt her dress being gathered up to her waist. Her knickers dragged down her thighs to hang around her knees.
He kicked her ankles open, just like she imagined, and she sighed before he'd even touched her. He sucked at her jaw, his teeth scratching over her skin, and her chest heaved.
His hands dragged up the back of her thighs until he held her backside in his hands, squeezing, fingers prying her apart, and sliding through her wet center. She gasped into the fur coat.
"Did you get riled up letting those blokes snog you, Granger?"
She turned her head, meeting his dark eyes and said, "Did you?"
He smirked and she felt him position himself at her entrance. She sucked in air, closing her eyes. He pressed a hand between her shoulders, and she leaned forward into the wall, hips angling toward him.
When he pressed inside of her, she heard him exhale an airy sound, and she opened her mouth wide, silencing a moan. She felt her toes curl inside of her shoes.
Merlin, it was different like this.
He moved his hands, slipping around to her hips, and pressed in further. Now, she did moan out loud.
Very different.
She and Viktor had a few nights of the rougher variety, a few roleplaying escapades, a few times trying not to be caught in public.
But this…
She felt his hipbones pressing against her ass, and she turned her forehead toward the fur coat, biting her lip.
This was…
He rolled his hips, shallow thrusts, hitting places inside of her she didn't know she needed to be hit. His rhythm was faster than their previous times, already a steady snapping, his hands wrapped around her waist, thumbs pressed into her low back. He pulled her back onto him, and she braced herself on the wall, already feeling something swirling inside of her.
A coat smacked both of them in the face.
He paused behind her, and the two of them watched as a wool coat sailed through the room toward the door. They were still hidden behind several rows, but there was someone only twenty feet away, waiting for his coat.
One hand left her hip, and Malfoy pulled his watch up to his face. "Past midnight, Granger. You'll have to keep quiet now."
And he thrust into her deep. She squeaked and pressed her lips together, breathing hard through her nose.
He grabbed her elbows, pulling her hands off the wall, and pulled her arms behind her, snapping his hips against her ass, bending her spine.
"Oh, fuck," she moaned, throat clicking around her uneven breath.
Another two coats flew past them, and Hermione bit down on her lip, climbing, climbing.
She heard drunken laughing from the party, several people at the door, waiting for their coats.
This was filthy. This was getting fucked by Draco Malfoy in a closet. This was—
Her walls clenched, tightening around him, orgasm coming on so quick she didn't even have time to close her mouth before yelling "Oh, my god!" into the fur coat in front of her.
He fucked her through it, keeping his pace even, tugging her arms back until he'd caught both elbows in one hand. He grabbed her hair with the free hand and dragged her face away from the coat.
"Were you saying something, Granger?" he hummed against her cheek.
She couldn't stop moaning. Little pops of noise on each breath, panting quickly, trying to catch her breath.
"Shh." He chuckled. "Quiet now, love."
His fingers tightened in her hair, and something about the angle, the way his hips barely left her ass as he pistoned in and out of her…
Her legs shaking.
Her fingers curling around the back of her own dress as he held her there.
She squeezed him again. A warning almost. She gasped, feeling her stomach tightening again, warming.
"Oh, my—"
He dragged her mouth to his, swallowing her screams as she came again, tears swelling in her eyes at how good it was. How right.
He fucked her with his tongue, biting her lip, bruising her lips. His teeth clashed on hers and she felt his rhythm stutter as she floated back down.
The coat in front of her that had muffled her screams earlier zipped away.
It was time to finish. Too many people were leaving. Soon it would just be the two of them in this room, clearly visible. Malfoy didn't seem to think anything of it though.
He released her arms. They shook as she moved them back to the wall, leaning heavily on them when he released her mouth.
He stepped back, pulling her hips with him, lowering her a bit. He kicked her legs out again, wider, lower. And the spread made her thighs tremble.
He pushed back in, setting a pace that told her he would be finishing soon. She was so relaxed, muscles barely complaining, just loving the drag of his cock inside of her. He tugged her hips back onto him over and over and she felt like a doll, bouncing, bouncing.
He heard him heaving air, heard the guests saying "oh, no, after you," giving their tickets to the room.
She smiled against her arms. And just as she wondered if he counted this as their third time or their fourth, one of his hands slid around under her dress, and found her clit.
"Oh, god," she murmured. "Malfoy, you don't have to..."
But he was insistent.
This was what she wanted. This was what she'd signed up for. He'd tried to take her home. Tried to give her a bed and some breakfast to wake up to, and she'd turned him down. So, he'd done it her way.
His fingers twirled around her clit, electricity running through her veins. His other hand gripped her waist, slamming her back on him, his hips pounding forward into her. His tempo was failing, but he wouldn't stop until she…
She closed her eyes and relaxed.
He flicked at her, quick and firm in a way she remembered him doing in her office. The way she'd dreamed about for months.
"Come on, love."
She tensed, but needed more.
"Kiss me. Please, Draco."
He stuttered, fingers digging into her hip, and a dark sound groaning out of him. And she felt like he just held himself back from shooting into her.
"Draco?" she tried.
He pumped into her again, without his mind's permission.
He pulled out, turned her around carefully, and pushed her against the wall. She jumped up around his hips, and helped him re-enter her. She kissed him slowly, and he matched her.
He found her clit again, arm straining between their bodies. She moaned into his mouth, and once he'd found that rhythm with his fingers again, she whispered, "Thank you, Draco" against his lips.
He groaned into her, and pushed deep. He kissed her slowly, holding inside of her while he flicked at her clit, working her higher and higher.
Her hips started to buck, and he moaned "Hermione" into her mouth, pumping into her again, slowly.
Slowly, like he wanted.
She clenched around him, this time a slow ripple through her, spreading through her legs, trembling her toes, and all the while he kept flicking her clit. It lasted forever.
And at some point while she was gasping for air, feeling her orgasm rocking her, he pushed into her a few more times, kissed her mouth, and grunted as he came inside of her, her walls drawing every drop from him.
As she was still deciding if she was done, if her orgasm was finished, he began kissing her slowly. One peck at a time.
She opened her eyes suspiciously, and looked up, finding seven or eight mistletoe branches starting to dance away each time he kissed her.
She watched them float out of the closet.
"Gladys, I think someone's snogging back there."
She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. "Oh god," she whispered.
"This wouldn't have happened if you'd just come home with me, Granger," he hummed against her lips.
"Okay."
He pulled back from her, staring into her eyes.
"Really?"
"Yes. All of these orgasms have left me quite peckish."
He smirked at her. "I planned that nicely, then."
She leaned in to kiss him again, hoping that she wouldn't regret becoming intimate with the Auror Department's biggest cad, but before their lips touched, the final mistletoe branch-the one she'd torn up into pieces-bit down on her neck with its hidden snarling teeth, exacting revenge for himself and his fallen brethren.
The End.