Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
AN: This is a one shot that popped into my head so I wrote it. I snickered a lot while writing it, so I hope you enjoy. Those of you who liked Magical Match and Secret Life of Death Eaters, this story has a similar vibe. There is smut (Duh!) so be warned! leave me review! xo
Hermione stared unfocused through the window of the tube as it whizzed by the empty platform. It had been another night of working late, and all she wanted was to get back to her flat and have a long soak in a hot bath with a good book. Between Wizengamot appeals for the abolishment of House Elf enslavement, Affirmative Action plans for Werewolves, as well as the acknowledgment of Nargles as a species, it had been a really long day.
Hermione reflected on how far she'd come from her days at Hogwarts. Upon graduation, she had her fair share of job offers from the ministry as expected, and so that was how she found herself as the director of the newly added Department of Magical Welfare within the Ministry of Magic, overseeing what Hermione believed to be their most important outreach program to date. The outreach program, known as Project F.U.C.K., was based on the notion that four fundamental key elements were crucial to finally putting an end to the prejudice that dictated many archaic practices that were rampant in the wizarding world: Freedom, Unity, Compassion, and Kindness. Rather simple really, but still desperately needed in a time when the threat of Voldemort still hung over Great Britain. As a way to clear her head, she began to take muggle transportation back to her flat in the evenings rather than the using the Ministry's floo network; it seemed to give her time to decompress, and leave her work at the office where it belonged.
Voldemort's forces were still a constant threat, one that the Order had to become more creative in evading these days. It was one afternoon, about a month back, when the order was struggling to come up with a way to keep in close contact without being intercepted, as owls often were, that Harry came up with a plan that was so patently ironic, that the Order immediately embraced the idea; from that day forward, they carried muggle cell phones.
She heard the chime signaling a new text message, and pulled the phone from her pocket and read the message. She didn't recognize the number, but, she knew it was more than likely a muggle who had mis-dialed.
You're one to talk, for someone who spends an awful lot of time on your knees in my presence…
Hermione's mouth gaped, and she snorted. The poor bloke would probably be mortified to learn he had sent that message to a complete stranger. Maybe it was because she was over-tired, but she decided to have some fun with him.
You've never complained about it before!
She chuckled evilly and hit send.
A few minutes later, her phone chimed again, and she read the message
Well, no…I rather enjoy it, but that's beside the point.
Hermine laughed out loud and covered her hand with her mouth. Clearly, he hadn't yet realized he had the wrong number. She hit reply, and began to type. If he hadn't figured it out yet, he most likely would now.
I bet you do. It's because I do that thing with my tongue…
She had to bite her lip to stifle her laughter, and hit send. A minute later, another chime sounded and she decided she was having way too much fun with this poor muggle.
What?!
Hermione hit reply and decided to let him in on the joke.
You have the wrong number. I'd say have a pleasant evening, but by the sounds of it, it seems you already are *wink*
She hit send and shoved her phone back into her bag as the doors opened onto the platform that was her stop. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill in the air, and walked the three blocks down to her flat.
Crookshanks was waiting by the door, as usual as she entered, and he proceeded to rub against her legs as was his usual custom when he wanted her to feed him. She bent down to pick him up, scratching behind his fluffy ears, and brought him into the small kitchenette with her.
"Let's see what we have to eat, Crooks." She said as she pulled out a tin of fancy feast from the cupboard. Unsurprisingly, he turned his nose up at it and strolled out of the kitchen.
"Or not." She chuckled, and opened the fridge. She had some left over ham, so she pulled it out and used the last of it to make a ham and cheese sandwich for herself, and the rest she cut up and put into Crookshanks' dish.
"It's not gourmet, but it'll have to do until I can get to the market." She told him as she took a bite of her sandwich as she leaned against the counter watching the pretentious half-kneazle examine the ham. When she finished her sandwich, she made her way back to her living room to pick up her bag where she had dropped it on the floor, and fished out her phone. She had a new text message. It was from the wrong number guy.
Clearly. Care to elaborate on what it is that you do with your tongue?
Hermione scoffed and hit reply. She could practically hear the arrogance in his tone. Clearly. Pfft.
That is for me to know…Besides, I don't make a habit of being on my knees, unless I'm getting something in return.
Hermione smirked and hit send, then padded to the bathroom so she could take her long awaited bath with a good book.
As she sunk into the warm water, complete with lilac scented bubbles, she heard her phone chime again with another incoming message.
Interesting, though I don't make a habit of returning favors, I could be persuaded if the offer was…tempting enough.
Hermione scoffed when she read his message; what a pig!
With that attitude, things must get very boring for you. Besides, one can find just as much joy in giving as receiving.
Hermione snickered as she hit send, and dunked herself under the water. The guy sounded like an utter caveman. Why was she even still talking to him?
As she popped her head back above the water, another chime sounded and she sighed, grabbing her phone with wet fingers.
Well, maybe I've been giving it to the wrong person.
Hermione choked and laughed out loud at his response.
Well, you know what they say, beggars can't be choosers.
She hit send with more force than necessary. A guy with an attitude like that should count his blessings that any woman would even give him the time a day, let alone be complaining that they weren't good enough for his attention.
Unsurprisingly, her phone chimed again only a minute later
Are you implying that I have to seek out the company I keep? I'll have you know that women and men alike beg for my attention.
Hermione's eyebrows rose at that one. He plays for both teams? Well, Good for him.
Though I am glad to hear that you are all for equal-opportunity, I must confess that your arrogance is nauseating. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish my bath in peace.
She hit send and slapped the phone down on the small vanity that stood next to her claw-foot bathtub, and closed her eyes, trying to let the tensions from the day seep out of her.
Unfortunately, her phone actually rang this time, and she practically jumped out of her skin. She grabbed the phone without bothering to look at the screen,
"Oh for the love of God, I don't know how else to spell it out for you; you sound like a terrible lover."
"Who's a terrible lover?" Harry's voice said as he chuckled on the other end of the line.
Hermione groaned, "No one, nevermind." She said quickly, "What is it?"
Harry was still laughing, "Hermione, you didn't think I was Krum just now, did you?"
Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair, "Of course not, Harry, I told you, nothing ever happened between Viktor and I."
"Because he was a terrible lover?" Harry teased her.
"What was it that you needed?" Hermione said in annoyance, doing her best to change the subject.
Harry cleared his throat on the other end, "Oh, right; Dumbledore wanted me to call you to tell you that we're meeting at the Burrow the Saturday after next."
Hermione nodded. "Right, I'll be there." She said rolling her eyes when she heard Harry sniggering again on the other end.
"Anything else?" she asked in exasperation.
"Yeah…how is Project FUCK coming along?" Harry asked as he burst out in laughter once more.
"Honestly, Harry, it's Project F.U.C.K, not FUCK. Grow up, will you?"
Harry's only response was more laughter, and she rolled her eyes at his immaturity.
"Goodbye, Harry!" She said in annoyance and ended the call, dropping the phone on her vanity once again. By the time she finally finished her bath, she was actually annoyed to realize she was slightly disappointed that the wrong number guy hadn't responded to her last text.
~~{0}~~
"Kingsley, I told you how important this meeting is; it's vital to the project that the Wizengamot is on board." Hermione protested, as she followed along trying to match the Minister's long strides.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, but this project is just not a priority right now. Until the Dark Lord is defeated, we have to channel all of our resources elsewhere." He said with an air of finality that effectively ended the conversation.
She stood in the hall staring at his retreating back, angry at being dismissed so casually, as if she didn't understand the impact that Voldemort had on the wizarding world. She turned sharply on her heels and strode back to her office. It made her blood boil to think of all the long hours she had been putting in, only to have the Minister brush her off as if the work she was doing was unimportant. She grabbed her coat and bag off of the coat rack and stormed out of her office, intent on heading home when she instead ducked into a small pub on a whim. Hermione had never been much of a drinker, but after today, she really needed something to calm her down. The pub was mostly empty, as her heels clicked against the worn wood flooring as she made her way towards the bar. There was one other person seated at the bar, but she ignored them as she threw her bag down heavily into the seat beside her and ordered a whiskey without even looking up at the bartender.
"Bad day?" a melodic voice asked from somewhere nearby, and her head popped up and glanced over towards the stranger sitting at the bar. Hermione flushed noticing how handsome he was, and quickly averted her eyes.
"Quite." She answered in clipped tones, not wanting to be rude, but not really in the mood for conversation either.
"Well, that makes two of us." He said lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a large gulp.
The bartender set a glass down in front of Hermione, and she reached out her hand to snatch the bottle before he could walk away with it, "I'd like to hang on to this for a bit, if you don't mind." She said and the bartender nodded and walked away.
She chanced a glance over at the handsome man sitting two seats down from her, wondering if he was judging her. He probably already profiled her as an alcoholic. I mean, who else goes to a pub in the middle of the afternoon on a workday, and requests not only a glass, but an entire bottle of whiskey.
Surprisingly, she couldn't see any judgement, but he was watching her closely, with a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. She surprised herself, when against her better judgement, she opened her mouth again, "Would you care to join me?"
Hermione detested drinking alone, and seeing as how he was also drinking whiskey, and apparently had also had a shit day, she figured why not. Misery loves company, after all.
He nodded slightly, and followed her over to a quiet booth, and slipped into the seat across from her. Hermione picked up the bottle of whiskey and filled his glass, and then lifted hers to her lips, taking a deep drink, before she promptly choked.
His smirk broadened, "You don't drink much, do you?" he asked knowingly as he watched her reaching for the glass of water on the table, her eyes watering pitifully.
"Is it that obvious?" she chuckled once she was able to speak.
"A bit." He said grinning at her in a way that made her stomach do a little flip. Or maybe that was just the whiskey…
"So, tell me, what brings you to a pub in the middle of an afternoon to get pissed?" he asked conversationally, lifting his glass to his lips
Hermione sighed, "Well, you see, I've been working on this project that really is rather important to me, and after months of work, I've been told in no uncertain terms that Project F.U.C.K. is just not a priority for the Ministry at this time."
The man across from her choked on his whiskey, "Project…FUCK?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "What is it with everyone? It's not FUCK, it's F.U.C.K." Hermione snapped haughtily.
"You know that F.U.C.K. spells Fuck though, right?" He said giving her a genuine smile, and she couldn't help but bite back her own smirk.
"Of course I do, that's beside the point." Hermione scoffed.
"Well, what exactly, is this Project F.U.C.K.?"
Hermione's eyes lit up at his question. She rarely had the chance to discuss it, since so few in the wizarding world cared about the welfare of magical creatures, which unfortunately was the root of the entire problem.
"It stands for Freedom, Unity, Compassion, and Kindness." She answered, and then gaped at him as he snorted in derision.
Annoyed with his reaction, she launched into lecture mode, "I'll have you know, that those four elements are vital to the welfare of all Magical creatures. Including Wizards." She snapped.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and set his drink down in front of him, "Alright, lets say for the sake of argument, that you have a society where different groups of wizards have very differing…opinions on how society should function. What role, exactly, would project F.U.C.K. serve in solving this issue, as you see it?" He asked folding his arms over his chest expectantly.
Her eyes lit up in excitement again, as she prepared her answer.
"The first step is literally the first pillar of Project F.U.C.K.; Freedom must be granted and legally upheld to all involved. In this case, Wizards are already mostly free, with the exception of Werewolves. They require dual rights as granted to both wolves and Wizards. Once Freedom has been assured, Unity is the next step, which is achieved by forming community organizations that promote the other two aspects; Compassion and Kindness. If one sect of the population has an issue with another sect, it is up to the government, or government sponsored outreach programs to provide and promote the education necessary for overcoming these differences, thus inspiring Unity." Hermione answered folding her hands on the table in front of her.
"It sounds like the hippy mantra, 'make love not war', which if you think about it, would be a much more apt slogan for Project F.U.C.K." He said chuckling as he lifted his glass to his lips.
Hermione snorted, "Right, well if a good fuck was all it takes to win a war, I'd take one for the team."
Once again he choked on his whiskey, and Hermione laughed, lifting her glass to her lips, "Cheers!" as she gulped down the rest of her drink.
"Enough about me, why are you drinking by yourself in the middle of the afternoon?" she asked feeling a bit more bold as the fire whiskey settled into her stomach.
"Not alone." He tipped his glass to her before refilling it, and then topping hers off again.
"Right." She acknowledged, encouraging him to continue.
"Well, aside from the fact that I am endlessly surrounded by idiots who can't seem to follow the simplest of instructions, some items were recently stolen…irreplaceable heirlooms…that meant a great deal to me." He said taking another sip of his drink, meeting her eyes with his dark gaze.
"I'm so sorry." She said quietly, "I have a cat, a half-kneazle really, who I feel that way about. If anything ever happened to my Crookshanks, I don't know what I'd do." She said giving him a sympathetic look, and reached over the table to lay her hand over his.
His eyes flicked down to her hand that covered his, and he raised an eyebrow at her, "Yes, well, here's to hoping Crookshanks lives to a ripe old age." he said taking another sip of his drink.
Just then, Hermione's phone chimed with an incoming text message, and a look of surprise crossed his face as he watched her pull her hand away, and reach into her bag to pull it out.
"You have a cell phone." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes, I find then rather handy", she said remembering that most witches and wizards looked down on muggle technology, and she blushed.
He smirked and pulled his own cell from the back pocket of his dark jeans, "Funny, that's exactly what I said too."
Feeling a bit more daring, Hermione took another sip of her whiskey for courage, "So is this the part where you ask for my number?" Hermione said raising her eyebrow at him in challenge.
He laughed, "Says the girl who leads Project FUCK."
"It's F.U.C.K., actually" she corrected, blushing at the sexy grin he was giving her.
"Right, so what's your number then?" he asked swiping the screen of his phone with his finger, reader to tap in her number to his contacts.
"I haven't even told you my name" she said laughing.
"That's alright, I'll put you in here as 'FUCK girl.'" He teased.
Hermione laughed and gave him her number, and he fired off a text to her so that she would have his number too. She heard the chime of her phone, and when she clicked to open the message her mouth fell open in shock, when she saw the history of her texts with wrong number guy all showing up under the same number.
"It's you!" she said staring at him in shock, biting back a laugh.
"Excuse me?" his eyes narrowing at her in confusion.
"You were the one texting me the other night…You are wrong number guy!" Hermione said chuckling as she took another sip of her whiskey.
"Wait…that was you?" he asked, comprehension dawning as her words clicked into place and he scowled at her.
"If I recall, you called me nauseating." He said folding his arms over his chest, looking at her expectantly.
"Yes, well, you weren't exactly painting an enticing picture with your responses; I mean come on, Mister 'men and women alike beg for my attention'" She sniffed taking another sip of her whiskey.
He raised an eyebrow at her and the corner of his lips curved up in a smirk.
"I bet you've never come during sex before." He said leaning back in his chair in amusement as he studied her, watching the flush creep down her neck.
"I fail to see how that is relevant to the conversation." She said hotly, giving him a glare.
"Oh, it's very relevant. If you want to understand what would make someone beg, then it stands to reason that you would need to experience what it's like being the focus of my attention." He said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.
"Are you propositioning me?" she squeaked in surprise, and his smile grew wider.
"I could be," He smirked at her, flashing his canines, "if you promise to show me that thing you do with your tongue."
Hermione bit her lip, trying to hide the smirk. She never did things like this, it was such an un-Hermione Granger thing to do, but for once in her life, she decided to throw caution to the wind.
"My flat is not far from here…" she said finishing her whiskey and leaving money on the table to cover their drinks.
Before they even reached her flat, he was kissing her neck, making it extremely difficult for her to focus on unlocking her door. As soon as they slipped inside, he kicked the door closed with his boot and pushed her up against it, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her hungrily, and she tangled her hands into his hair, pulling at it slightly. He held her against the door with his body, pulling her hands from his hair and pinning them above her head with one hand as his other hand reached down to hike up her skirt. His thumb brushed over the garter belt that rested against her outer thigh, as he rolled his hips into hers, smirking against her lips as she let out a soft moan. She could feel him hard and hot against her center, through the fabric of his jeans, and he hissed in pleasure as she ground herself against him. She nipped his bottom lip with her teeth and then soothed it with her tongue before he pulled back enough to ask in a husky voice which way the bedroom was.
When he relinquished his hold on her wrists to carry her through her flat to the bedroom, she wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to whisper in his ear all the naughty things she could do to him with her tongue. She stifled a laugh at his groan of need, and was kissing the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw when he finally made it to the bedroom and unceremoniously tossed her onto her queen size bed, which was thankfully free of teddy bears that day. She sat up and met his gaze as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt then removed her bra, watching as his eyes followed her every move like a snake stalking it's prey. She leaned back on the bed then, propped up on her elbows, with her knees bent, looking up at him invitingly, letting her knees fall open giving him a bird's eye view of her black lacy knickers.
She could see his pupils were blown wide with desire and she beckoned him to join her. His lips captured her mouth again as her hands began to work the buttons of his black silk dress shirt, letting his hand move to the juncture of her thighs. He smirked against her lips when she gasped in pleasure as his fingers nudged her panties aside and began to trace small circles over her clit. She pushed the shirt over his broad shoulders, and made a small sound of disappointment when he had to remove his hand in order to remove his shirt. He tossed his shirt onto a nearby chair, and he gave her a sexy grin as he removed her skirt. It was when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down over her hips that she knew she was in trouble. He slid them down her legs, tossing them over his shoulder onto the floor. Hermione bit her lip and let her head fall back into the pillow as he leaned in and ran his tongue along her slit. He groaned as he lapped at her, flicking his tongue against her clit in a steady rhythm that was bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
"Gods, don't stop, please…" she moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair, as he continued to lick and suck at her clit.
She came as soon as she felt his long fingers slide into her, curling slightly against that sensitive spot, and she cried out her release, shuddering beneath him. She watched with hooded eyes as he slid his fingers from her, and slipped them into his mouth, groaning in pleasure at her taste. She almost came a second time from the sight of it. She leaned towards him, and grasped his belt buckle, releasing it, and pulling his belt off with a sharp tug. He hissed as her fingernails raked over his cock through his jeans as she unbuttoned them, pushing them down impatiently. She pushed him down onto his back and she wasted no time taking him into her mouth, gazing up at him with lust filled eyes as she swirled the tip of her tongue over the head of his cock
"Fuck…that's the thing you do with your tongue." He laughed as it quickly turned into a groan.
He buried his fingers in her hair, as his eyes rolled back in pleasure, "Please tell me you're on the potion."
She pulled back a moment releasing him from her mouth, and she nodded, "Yes, why?"
"Because when I come, I want it to be inside of you." He said pushing her down on the bed, and settled himself between her thighs, kissing her hard as he plunged into her.
She cried out as he entered her, and she raked her nails over his back as he slammed into her over and over again
"God yes, …fuck me…" she murmured against his throat as he pounded into her relentlessly, fucking her so hard that her head board was hitting the wall.
She dipped a hand between them rubbing her clit as he continued to thrust into her, and she felt her orgasm building up with each stroke of his thick cock.
"Gods, please don't stop…Harder!" she cried
Within moments, she was gasping and shuddering beneath him, and he let out a growl, coming hard inside of her as her muscles contracted around him.
They both lay spent and panting, limbs entwined as he pulled the blanket over them
"You know, Project FUCK may have merit, after all." He said casually as he folded his arms behind his head, smirking at her.
She raised an eyebrow at him intrigued, "Oh?"
"Hermione Granger, knowing you fuck like that, I could be persuaded to end this war."
Her eyes widened, "I don't recall telling you my name…" she said with narrowed eyes as the rest of his words clicked to place in his brain…End this war…Irreplaceable heirlooms stolen…
"Voldemort." She gasped in surprise kicking him out of her bed onto the floor.
"Jesus Christ, ouch! Just five minutes ago you were begging me to fuck you into the mattress, what happened to taking one for the team?" he said raising an eyebrow at her as he covered himself with the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be a fuzzy cat pillow.
She studied him, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked sitting on her bedroom floor wearing nothing but the cat pillow he held in front of him. Fearsome indeed.
"If I agree to this, you'll call Harry right now and end the war?" she asked folding her arms over her chest.
"Do I have a choice?" he asked wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought of calling Potter.
"Not if you want back in this bed…" she said raising an eyebrow at him.
He gave a long suffering sigh, "Fine, give me your phone."