For girlX901 and CrazySlytherin, who requested this pair.
Dusk: Kingsley/Hermione
Kingsley Shacklebolt had dueled some of the darkest wizards in his time. He'd worked as a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix during the second War. He'd fought in numerous battles, risked his life countless times, and once dove-flew off of Mount Kirkjufell in Iceland.
In all those ventures, however, Kingsley could not remember ever being as frightened as the day he decided to ask out Hermione Granger.
In retrospect, he should've known it would've ended up a disaster. He'd forgotten his wand and was thereby late to his meeting with her. He'd tripped after their greeting of a friendly hug (he blamed it on her new perfume, which smelled exactly like lemon meringue pie), and, upon settling at his desk, realized he'd lost the paperwork she was there for in the first place.
"Don't worry about it, Kingsley," she'd said, smiling. "Just owl it over whenever you find it."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he'd said for the fourteenth time. "This is completely unacceptable. I honestly don't know—"
"Hey," she'd said softly, placing a hand on his forearm. His eyes had dropped to her hand, then back up to her lovely face. "It's fine. They're not due to the department for another three weeks. You know me, how I like to get things done early." She'd smiled again and lifted her hand to tuck a curl behind her ear.
"Are you doing anything this weekend?" he'd blurted. His voice was gruff and unpleasant, not the sound he was going for. Luckily, she hadn't seemed startled.
"Not really. I mean, I am going to call my mum. She likes to talk for at least two hours so it becomes an event in and of itself."
Kingsley cleared his throat. "Yes. I was thinking, perhaps, about the new pub that opened on Wayflower Avenue…"
At that blasted moment, his assistant, Georgina, had walked by the open door of his office. "Oh, are you two talking about The Drunken Oak? I heard it's phenomenal."
"Is it?" Hermione'd asked, turning to her with a smile.
"Yes, the burgers are outstanding. That's what Phillip told me last week, isn't that right, Phillip?"
Auror Phillip Grey appeared at his door, joined by his partner, Katie Bell. "Their pepperjack-stuffed angus is, quite possibly, the best thing I've ever eaten."
"I liked their fish and chips," Katie supplied. "They use cedar-smoked paprika, which, gods, really makes the breading stand out. Why, what's up? Are we planning an outing?"
"This weekend," Hermione'd said. "Right, Kingsley?"
He'd given her a long look, then nodded. "Yes. I was hoping to see what all the, uh, fuss was about."
"How's Saturday?" Katie'd asked. "I bet Harry and Neville would like to come. Hey, Hermione, would you invite George?"
Hermione'd laughed. "Still haven't asked him out yourself, Kate?"
"Well, I'd rather he get the bloody hint and ask me first!"
After a few minutes, a few more people had crowded his office, discussing times to meet and dishes they were looking forward to trying. He'd sat back in his chair and had refrained from putting his head in his hands. As Minister, he was, first and foremost, everyone's supervisor and made a point not to fraternize with his employees outside the office. But he'd looked at Hermione's gorgeous smile once more and agreed to meet them all there at seven o'clock sharp Saturday night.
He had arrived at the restaurant nearly a half hour early to ensure there'd be a table large enough for them. They'd all shown up within forty minutes. Everyone except for Hermione.
After about fifteen minutes of trying not to watch George Weasley attempt to eat Katie's face, he'd casually asked about Hermione's whereabouts. "Oh, right," Ron had said through a mouthful of pepperjack-stuffed angus. "'Mione got a migraine. She wanted me to tell you sorry, and that she might be out Monday if it's a bad one."
Kingsley was certain Hermione knew he'd originally planned on asking her— and only her— on a real, bonafide date and that she'd finangled her way out of it. Mortified, he'd excused himself as soon as he paid for his meal. He'd consoled himself with the fact that, were it a date, he'd never eaten the smokehouse bacon burger with firewhisky-caramelized onions, which was, quite honestly, worth breaking his no-fraternizing rule over.
That night, over a mug of Earl Grey, he'd decided to stop pursuing Hermione. Not that what he'd been doing—smelling her hair during hugs, scheduling meetings with her over the most minute details of their collaborations, and almost asking her out once— could be considered an actual pursuit. But it was clear to him that she wasn't interested. Or else the whole business just wasn't aligned with the universe's will.
So Kingsley began to avoid Hermione Granger.
x
Hermione paced in her office. It was after six on a Friday evening and nearly everyone had left for the weekend. Everyone except for Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic.
If she drew the curtains to the little window on her office door, she could see the light coming from the window through his. Moreover, she'd put up an alert spell of her own devising. If Kingsley had left his office for the day, her wand would give a little buzz.
She had no idea what she did to anger him, but damn it, today she was going to find out.
x
Why hadn't she left yet?
Kingsley released the curtain on his door window. Hermione was still in. And after the day he'd had, he wasn't in the mood to see her pretty smile or long curls or her bloody round arse in that tight skirt she'd worn today. He'd nearly decapitated himself when she walked by him earlier. He rubbed his neck at the memory.
No, the last thing he needed before the weekend began was an encounter with the witch he'd fallen for but would never have the balls to proposition.
He reached for the curtain once more, but before his fingers touched the fabric, a knock sounded at the door. He levitated the briefcase in his hand onto the seat of one of his guest chairs, waited a beat, then opened it.
x
Hermione gaped for a moment, gathering her bearings. "Hey," she finally said.
Kingsley furrowed his brow. "Is there anything I can help you with, Hermione?"
Hermione looked dumbfounded for a moment, then pointed her finger right at his face. "That. That bloody distant formality. That right there is what you can help me with."
Kingsley tilted his head. "I beg your…"
"You don't hug me anymore. Our offices share the same floor and you'll only communicate with me by bloody owl. I'm sorry, Kingsley, for whatever I've done, but if you'd just tell me instead of..." Tears stung at her eyes, but she willed them back down.
Kingsley stared at her for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "Why don't you come in?"
x
Kingsley cleared his throat, sitting at his desk. "One of our Aurors discovered a Dark Arts plot against the Muggle Prime Minister."
"Shite," Hermione said, tentatively sitting in one of his guest chairs. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yes. For the time being, all is well." He cracked his knuckles. "Given my previous position in protecting the Prime Minister, it made most sense for me to resume those duties."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "But— but you're our Minister. That's entirely too much for you—"
Kingsley held up a hand. "Just at first. Simply because I already know the schedule, the people, the rhythm. The Minister trusts me, so it simply makes the initial process of infiltration easier. In about a week, Auror Longbottom will take up those duties." He gave a curt nod. "I apologize for behaving distantly. I've just been busy, Hermione."
x
"Oh," Hermione said, burying her face in her hands. "Gods, Kingsley, I'm an idiot for thinking it had anything to do with me. Gods, what a narcissist, right?" She glanced up to see a peculiar look on his face, one he immediately shook off.
She felt even more awkward then, and she turned her gaze to around his office, gasping when she spotted an iridescent black, ornately carved bottle on his side table. "Is that Dusk?" she asked.
Kingsley chuckled. He stood, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to her. "A gift from the Bulgarian Minister. It's just returned from the Potions Department, so it's confirmed to be clean." He levitated two glasses from a drawer. "Care for a taste?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she fingered the bottle. "Drinking on the job, Mr. Minister?"
Kingsley checked his watch. "As of an hour and a half ago, I'm no longer on the job, Ms. Granger." He smiled. "And, last I checked, neither are you."
Hermione grinned, grabbing the glass he'd poured her. "Mmm, gods," she said after sipping. "It's like caramel coffee mixed with truffles and cream and a bit of smoke." She took another long sip. "Last time I was in a spirits store, I saw bottles of Dusk being sold for five hundred galleons a piece." She lifted the corners of her mouth. "The Bulgarian Prime Minister must really like you."
Kingsley'd already drained his drink. He hadn't planned on it, but the moment that moan escaped her lips, he found himself tilting the glass at an impossible angle. "He likes that we've lifted some of our trade regulations with his country."
"Ah, yes, I heard about that." Hermione unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it off, draping it on the chair back. Underneath, she wore a lace-trimmed camisole. Blue, with a hint of cleavage just above the—
"Kingsley?" He blinked as a warm blush filled his cheeks. He'd been too busy leering to even listen to what she'd said.
"Come again?" he asked, pouring them another glass.
x
Hermione Granger wasn't what anyone would call stupid, but when it came to matters of romantic attraction, she would relent to 'clueless,' perhaps. It wouldn't be untrue.
But she wasn't mistaken this time; she knew it. Kingsley Shacklebolt was just staring at her breasts! As though they were bare! Maybe he was imagining them bare, she thought. She blushed when gooseflesh appeared on her arms, crawling all the way up her chest until her nipples painfully bulged out of her top.
She grabbed the glass he handed her and positively threw it back before responding to his query. Wiping her mouth in a most unladylike manner, she said, "I was wondering if you'd enjoyed your time with the Aurors all those weeks back, at that pub."
He nodded and laughed. "Oh, you know them. Very entertaining." He grimaced. "Though I could've done without the tongue wrestling display from George and Katie."
"Oh, I know!" Hermione said. "Christ, I went to visit George at the shop the other day, and you know how I found them? Behind the bloody register. She was on top of him." Hermione shuddered. "Thank gods their clothes were still on."
Kingsley grimaced. "I'm glad they're keeping it there, though, rather than having one another here at the Ministry."
Hermione chuckled. She knew of at least two instances where Katie and George had 'had one another here at the Ministry,' but she certainly wouldn't be the one to snitch. "Indeed." She leaned back against the chair, smiling lazily at him. "I love Dusk."
"I can see that." Kingsley smiled so big, both his dimples flashed.
Hermione felt a warmth in her belly, and she could tell it wasn't entirely due to the alcohol. "Are you seeing anyone?" she asked suddenly.
His face revealed momentary shock. "I— well, uh—"
"Gods, Kingsley," she said, feeling her face redden. "It's none of my business, I know—"
He shook his head. "It's fine, Hermione." He inhaled. "Well, the short answer is 'no'. I haven't really met anyone—" His eyes darted to hers. "Well, that's a lie. I have met a brilliant witch, actually. But I don't think she'd ever find me interesting in, well. In that way."
x
Hermione's eyes widened. "What?" she asked. Before he could respond, she shook her head violently. "You are literally everyone's dream man."
He laughed, but she waved her fingers. "I'm serious, Kingsley. You've no idea, do you? More than half the women in the office have admitted to touching thems—" She coughed, backtracking. "I mean, you're bloody handsome, like a movie star. And you're tall and clever and, gods, your hands." Her cheeks were, once again, stained in that lovely peach. "Anyway, whoever that witch is, she's mental if she's not interested in you. In that way."
"You're not mental, Hermione." It just slipped out, honestly. He blamed the drink. But the meaning behind what he'd uttered strummed a deep note between them. They both froze, as though with any movement, that note would shatter, ruining everything.
Hermione reacted first. "You mean she's... me?" She stood and walked slowly around his desk, facing him on his side. He tried to speak but nothing came out.
She reached out, touching his forearm. He glanced down at her hand— smooth skin, a gold garnet ring on her index finger with short, periwinkle-lacquered nails. "Is that why you won't hug me?"
He finally gathered the nerve to look up at her face, at her gorgeous eyes with their long lashes, her eyebrows lifted in concern. His gaze lowered to her heaving chest. He held an arm out— what for, he wasn't certain. To offer a hug, perhaps?
Instead of doing anything responsible and proprietous and bloody decent, like a hug, he reached for her chest instead, thumb brushing an erect nipple through her shirt. She gasped, and before he could apologize and light himself on fire and die… she leapt on him.
x
Now, both of those wonderfully large and dark hands were on her chest as Hermione stared at him, his legs firmly between her knees, his breath wild.
She finally bent her head to his and kissed the Minister of Magic.
He responded to her with his tongue, and with those beautiful hands, kneading her breasts, plucking her nipples. She moaned, loudly, when his erection brushed her bottom. "Hold on," she said, pulling back.
He looked bewildered. "Hermione, I'm so sorr—"
"Shh," she said, putting her finger to his lips. "I want to try something."
x
Before he could stop her, she'd settled on the floor between his legs and pulled his cock out of his slacks. "Merlin," he whispered when she ran her fingers on him. She smiled, lowered her head and flicked her tongue over his tip. "Almighty Godric," he groaned. She let her tongue linger with the next lick, smiling again when his breath hitched as he fisted the arms of the chair. Then she took him in her mouth. Thoroughly.
He couldn't remove his eyes from her, wondering if, perhaps, that Dusk was spiked with something dangerous after all. Why else would Hermione Granger's hot, silky mouth be wrapped around his dick?
She took a deep breath and let his tip slide into her throat. His hips jerked, disobeying all of his internal commands. She nodded encouragingly, though, putting her hands on his sides, making a lifting motion. Merlin's beard, he thought. She wants me to fuck her mouth.
His cock seemed to think it a fine idea, along with his pelvis, and he found himself settling into a comfortable rhythm of pumping. He threw his head back and grunted as she narrowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue. She glided her hand over the bottom of his shaft smoothly, and he was just about to congratulate himself on lasting far longer than he should have when he glanced down and almost came on the spot.
Her skirt had been pushed up, revealing the her smooth thighs, and positioned between her legs, in her knickers, was her other hand. She moaned, her eyes rolling up, and he put his hands on her face, his thumbs grazing her cheeks. She settled her gaze on him.
"This is incredible," he said. "But I want you."
She released his cock and smiled. "Well, what are you waiting for, then, Kingsley?"
x
Hermione had no idea what had gotten into her. 'What are you waiting for, Kingsley.' A line from a one of the horrid romance novels she'd read on occasion for entertainment purposes only. But as Kingsley lifted her to his desk, vanishing her knickers, settling his cock on her cunt, she stopped being able to process the logic of it.
He ran the head of his length over her clit. "Do you like that?" he asked. His voice was impossibly smooth and deep and she tossed her head back, resting on her forearms, only able to moan in response. He continued to stroke her clit with his dick, using his other hand to slide up her top, wandlessly vanishing her bra before grasping her breast.
"Fuck," she whimpered, squirming. He pinched her nipple, rubbing it in tune to her the ministrations on her clit.
"You're going to make me come," she finally said, her voice breaking.
Kingsley chuckled. "That's the idea."
x
Kingsley continued to tease her clit and nipples until he was certain she was just about to break into a thousand pieces. He watched as her breath grew shallower, as her belly and thighs trembled, as her hands held onto the desk so hard, her knuckles whitened. At that moment, he removed his hands and slid himself inside her.
They moaned at the same time, and after a single pump, she came spectacularly, thrashing her back all over his paperwork, dragging her nails along his arms. Before she'd released the arch of her back, he returned to fucking, going as hard as he could. She screamed with each thrust, and, coupled with the rattle of his desk, he wondered briefly if they ought to've made certain they were the only ones left in the office. He couldn't think on it much longer, however. He clenched his abs with his release, feeling his cock drain into her for so long and hard, he thought it might detach with pleasure.
Luckily for them both, his dick had no such plans. He waited until they caught their breaths before gently pushing off of her. After fixing his slacks, he helped her up, smiling at the dazed, almost comatose look in her eyes.
He frowned as thoughts swirled in mind. "I should've— I should've taken you out to dinner first."
"Kingsley," Hermione laughed. "That was the best I've ever had and you're saying it should've been delayed?" She leaned on him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He returned the hug tightly, straightening his back at the mention of 'best I've ever had.'
"Anyway," she said, lifting her head up to look in his eyes. "I heard about this new pub on Wayflower. Amazing burgers."
He gave her a sheepish smile. "You mean The Drunken Oak?"
She snapped her fingers. "That's it. That's the one. You should take me there. Right now. I'm starved."
He nodded, widening his smile to a grin. "I would love that."
She gave him a wicked grin that weakened his knees. "I also need to eat for energy. If you haven't heard, I'm taking a handsome Minister home for the weekend. We're going to be very busy." She winked as she walked to his door.
He nearly ran after her, bending her in a deep kiss before leading her out.
Okay, all! We have a Lemon Tree queue:
1. Mrs. Wilson: SS/HG and/or Albus/Minerva
2. smithback: Harry/Andromeda and/or Hermione/Salazar
3. Guest: Tom Riddle, Jr./Harry and/or Sirius/Harry
4. Me: Dramione (I'm indulging myself based on a prompt I feel I must finish)
Let me know via reviews if you have something you'd like to be added to the queue.
Yay! I'm so happy with everyone's responses. I'm so looking forward to fulfilling these writing requests. I've got to warn you, though, I won't be able to pop them out as quickly as I've been on this holiday break. But I'm going to aim for two a month, maybe more, depending on how much I procrastinate on everything else.
Thanks, as always, for reading.