A/N: Hello lovelies. I'm late. I know. I will probably be late next week too because I'm moving. So things will be a little off schedule for the next few weeks, but I will still be writing. No worries. And thank you to all who checked in!
THANK YOU so much for all the support and love you've given me. Welcome to the new readers!
Hermione's heart stopped when Ginny told her that the Contraceptive Charm needed to be cast before.
Then she started crying when Ginny said she had a potion that one could take for the day after.
Ginny jumped up and retrieved the potion. As Hermione hiccupped and swallowed, Ginny watched her.
"So… that was my last one," Ginny said. "So, we'll need to brew or buy some more…" Ginny's voice lilted up at the end.
"Of course. I'll pay for a new batch for you." Hermione wiped her eyes.
"Right." Ginny said, watching her. "Should we be buying double?"
Hermione looked at her.
"Or was this the only time you'll be needing a potion for a little while?"
Ginny was digging, and Hermione was too exhausted to figure it out.
"I mean," Ginny said. "For next time…"
Hermione blinked. "I think I'll remember the Charm next time."
Ginny pounced on her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking. "SO THERE WILL BE A NEXT TIME?!"
As her body was shaken around and her torso mounted and hugged like a doll, Hermione finally realized what Ginny was asking.
Ginny pulled back. "What are you wearing? Where's your dress?"
"He ripped it off of me."
Ginny fell off the bed.
Would there be a next time?
Hermione covered her love bites, both fresh and old, and looked at her reflection.
They hadn't discussed it. How would this work? Or was it not going to? Was last night all there would be?
And before the Love Contract could even cross her mind, a peck at the window revealed the owl with today's Prophet.
Wonderful.
She grabbed it from the owl's leg, and brought it into the dining room. She opened the fold.
And there she was on the front page, descending a grand staircase and sliding her hand into Draco's.
She sat and tossed the paper across the room, placing her head in her hands.
Thirty seconds later she picked it up again, smoothed it out, and read Rita's loving tribute to the Valentine's Day Ball. Thankfully, Rita had described the two of them as members of Malfoy Consulting Group, and not War Hero Hermione Granger or Ex-Death Eater Draco Malfoy. At least there might be some good publicity for M.C.G.
She sat and sipped her coffee and wondered what to do with her morning. Ginny was gone already, and Hermione didn't have to get ready for Cornerstone until closer to noon, per Morty's insistence.
She'd taken a shower the night before at Ginny's urging. Ginny had started telling her all sorts of… interesting things, like they were now bound by a common knowledge of the mystery of life. Things that Hermione had heard over the years, and had filed away as "adult things," but she was now an adult, she guessed.
"Do you feel different?" Ginny had asked, just as Hermione was shutting the door to the bathroom.
"I feel… sore."
Ginny nodded enthusiastically, going on to explain how she and Harry had to wait a few days before they could try again, and when Hermione's eye twitched involuntarily, Ginny laughed and let her shut the door in her face.
Did she feel different?
Her brain tried to articulate it while the shower washed away the scent of him.
She finally dragged herself to Cornerstone at half past eleven. It was oddly busy when she arrived, and although Morty gave her a disappointed glare that she'd come in at all, he was silently grateful that she could immediately jump on and assist an older gentleman with a few top shelf books.
The store remained busy throughout the day, which didn't give her much time to let her mind wander to the way Draco threaded his fingers through her hair when he was close, or how he gripped at her hips when he changed the angle, or the low sound of his voice when he whispered, "Look at me."
Not much time. But she found some anyway.
When Morty came back downstairs just before closing, he joined her at the counter as she finished her notations in the ledger.
"Your life is becoming far too interesting to still be working here, Miss Granger."
Hermione smiled and closed the book.
"Did Mr. Malfoy get in touch with you?"
She missed the ink pot entirely as she tried to place the quill back.
"I'm sorry?"
Morty cleaned his glasses, and looked up at her. "He was here. About fifteen minutes after opening."
Hermione's heart beat stuttered. "What… What did he want?"
Morty slid his glasses back on his nose. "Well, it certainly wasn't a book."
Hermione's eyes widened as Morty's brow lifted.
"I… What…"
"I let him know that you were off today, as I assumed you would take the whole day like I told you to."
"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, I guess I'll see him at work tomorrow."
She turned from the thin shopkeeper, and tried to process this.
Why had he come? What did he want?
A chill hit her.
Did he want to clarify things? Make sure she knew it wouldn't happen again? Or how they weren't to discuss it again?
She thought of how he'd gone to New York after they'd first kissed. How he'd returned cold, and closed off.
Hermione quickly closed shop, and headed home.
The next morning, after barely catching enough sleep to suffice for the day, Hermione was woken by the gentle weight of Ginny laying down next to her in her bed.
"Ginny?" She rubbed her eyes. "It's four in the morning."
"Yeah, it's your turn, Granger."
Hermione turned on her side and waited for Ginny to talk. Ginny stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. She hadn't slept at all.
"I've done a thing."
"What's wrong?" Hermione pushed her hair away from her face.
Ginny looked over at her. Then reached across and set something down on Hermione's hip.
A velvet box that Hermione had seen just last week.
"Oh, Ginny. No." Hermione ran her hands over her face.
"So, it's true?" Ginny's eyes were wide and watery. "This is it?"
"Where did you get that?"
"He told you? This is real?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Yes, he told me."
"When? Tonight at dinner?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "Why do you have that?"
"He's been off." Ginny looked back at the ceiling. "He's nervous and irritable and we're fighting and then I got nervous so I went through his things."
"What? Ginny…"
"Oh, don't give me that moral high ground." Ginny turned to her. "You snooped through your boyfriend's memories."
Hermione blushed at the term, and plucked the box from her hip, held it out to her. "You have to put it back. Put it back before he notices."
Ginny ran her hands over Hermione's sheets. "I was thinking," she said, "I could keep it with me. Then meet him at dinner and while he's super fidgety and upset, pull out the box and propose to him." Ginny gave her maniacal grin.
Hermione blinked, watching an expression on her face that she'd usually seen on a pair of twins. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard."
"No, but it would be funny. Or maybe I could show up already wearing it and then he'd –"
"Ginny. Let your boyfriend propose to you. He only gets to do it once."
Ginny swallowed and nodded at the ceiling. A smile spread slowly across her pink lips.
"I'm getting married to Harry Potter."
Ginny turned to her, blush blossoming and running her freckles together. She giggled.
Hermione laughed. "Not unless you get that ring back to him, you're not! He could very well die of an anxiety attack if he realizes it's missing!"
Hermione handed the box back to her, and Ginny threw her arms around her, squeezing tightly.
She gripped her satchel bag to her chest. Hermione stood in the lifts to the office, a bit later than she would normally arrive.
Breathe. The worst thing would be if someone assumed something based on her inability to act casually. This was just another normal day.
Breathe.
The doors opened, and she was assaulted by floating hearts and pink streamers.
Fuck. It was Valentine's Day.
Melody smiled up at her.
"Good morning!"
Hermione mumbled something back and quickly turned right to head to her office. She felt tightness in her chest loosen, and she realized that Draco wasn't at the front with coffee, like he had been all last week.
Just another normal day.
She took a breath, and sat at her desk. Before she could decide what his absence could mean, Draco slid into her doorway, like a child wearing socks on a hardwood floor.
"Granger. Yes, good."
She was frozen. This man had been on top of her two days ago. He pushed his hair away from his face.
"Er, Senior Staff meeting at nine, and then we should meet about the Werewolf Policy financials. After lunch?"
His eyes were wide and there was pink on his cheekbones.
Was he embarrassed? Because she was mortified.
"Yes. Great," she said.
He nodded at her and then stepped out. She closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples.
Just another normal day.
"Er—" from the doorway. She looked up, and Draco was back. "Perhaps before lunch is better. If you're free."
"Yes. Great," she repeated.
He nodded and left. For good this time. She made sure.
Perhaps Walter should join them for the meeting? She couldn't imagine sitting alone with Draco in his office, trying to discuss financial allocations.
She breathed in deeply, and reached for her calendar and her quill. Her hand stopped in the air.
A to-go cup of steaming coffee sat next to her ink pot.
Normal.
Normal. Normal.
At five minutes to nine she and her coffee cup made their way through the disgustingly pink office, passing bowls of chocolates and candies. She slipped into the conference room and found several people already seated. Draco was absent.
There was a little pile of candy in front of every chair at the table and as she sat, Dorothea Bulstrode turned to her.
"Happy Valentine's Day." She pushed a little heart-shaped card at her, unsmiling, and then turned back to her chocolates.
"Er, thank you, Dorothea."
Hermione opened the card, and it said Have a great day.
Since when did every single person celebrate Valentine's Day by shoving it down your throat?
On cue, Blaise Zabini stormed into the room, fluttering hearts exploding into the air. "Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!" Streamers flew, chocolate scattered everywhere, and the magic hearts fluttered like butterflies, zooming around the room.
"I expect you'll be cleaning this up, Blaise?" Draco entered behind him, careful to not step on fallen chocolates.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, sir."
Draco moved around the table, and Hermione felt very warm as she watched his body in a way she'd never watched him before. He wore a wizarding variation on a waistcoat, grey with a tie. It hugged him perfectly and Hermione shook the thoughts of his slender ribs out of her head as he sat.
She looked down at her chocolates, and clutched her coffee cup to keep her hands from reaching for them.
Draco took his seat next to her at the head of the table, and she couldn't tell if he looked at her once, because she refused to look back at him.
"How was everyone's weekend?" Draco asked as he organized the papers he'd brought in. Hermione caught herself watching his hands.
A few responses here and there, before Blaise spoke up.
"I was having a lovely time at the governor's mansion before Granger came in a took all the attention."
She looked over at him and he was grinning back at her. Hermione brought her coffee cup to her lips to distract herself.
"Yes. Blaise, Granger, and I attended the Valentine's Ball on Saturday," Draco said. "Blaise was able to secure a few accounts. Granger had a successful evening as well."
She choked. Hot coffee, running down her airway.
Dorothea slammed her hand on her back.
Hermione nodded her thanks.
"The Werewolf Policy is now fully funded, and she'll be working on publicity for the Golden Snidget campaign next," Draco said. "Anything to add, Granger?"
She looked up at him and immediately blushed.
"Nope," she said. "That about covers it."
"And that was a nice feature Skeeter ran in yesterday's Prophet," Wentworth added. "Great publicity for the company and the two of you looked splendid!"
Alright, Wentworth. That was enough.
"Excuse me, Charles," Blaise chimed in. "I was photographed on page three."
The next hour was agony. She had no idea how he was able to lead a meeting, being in the same room as her, without looking like a complete fool. As Draco and Mockridge presented the projected budget for March, detailing areas where they needed to cut back or push forward, Hermione actively kept her eyes off of him.
Off of his hands. Off of his neck.
"And lastly," Draco said. Off of his lips. "We've managed to fill the Wizengamot Relations position, and just in time, as our first Wizengamot date is in a few weeks. Cornelia Waterstone starts next Monday."
Waterstone. That was the woman who Hermione had pushed for, who had great answers about office dynamics and a wonderful background in law.
Blaise pouted. She was also the least attractive woman who had been interviewed.
"Mr. Buckworth, our new Werewolf Policy investor, has delivered a fruit basket to us for Valentine's Day. It's up with Melody, so feel free to grab what you can before the Associates take it all." Draco stood. "Granger and I will be working on financing now, but I'll be available after lunch for anything."
Now? Right now? He said before lunch, but it was 10AM. She blinked at the table.
The senior staff began standing and heading out. Blaise ran around all of them, looking for the fruit basket. She didn't know how to gather up all her materials and her coffee cup in a timely manner with her hands shaking. She tossed her empty coffee cup in the wastebasket.
When she finally exited the conference room, Draco was waiting for her. He gestured for her to lead the way to his office.
Walter? She needed Walter. How in Merlin's name was she supposed to talk finances with him alone in his office.
She looked over to Melody's desk and found half the office surrounding the fruit basket, including Walter.
Perhaps she should suggest grabbing him?
They reached Draco's door and Hermione entered, clutching her notes. She moved to the center of the room and turned back to him, about to ask about Walter, and watched as he closed the door behind him.
He turned, and leaned back on the wood, placing his hands in his pockets.
Oh, god.
She pulled her notes across her chest like a shield, feeling the papers crinkle under her fingers.
He leveled his eyes on her, unreadable, but intense.
"Do you think you'll be able to keep quiet, Granger?"
She felt the words like a knife to her gut. That was it. They were going to ignore it, and move forward.
He didn't want her speaking to anyone about this. He didn't want her bringing it up with him…
He didn't want her.
"Yes." She nodded, looking down at the carpet, the space between their feet. "No, yes, I understand." Her stomach felt heavy.
Merlin, he was probably concerned about the Love Contract. Hermione would be, if she were in his shoes. Hermione held the power to destroy him and this company now. Did he honestly think she would?
She continued, "You don't need to worry about me. I won't speak of it."
She looked up at him, hating the way her vision blurred. She swallowed and tried to grin.
He was still, examining her. His eyes darted between her own, and his mouth was tight. There was a strain in his features that she recognized from Hogwarts.
If he wasn't still standing in front of the door, she would nod at him, grin, and excuse herself to go cry in her office. Perhaps she needed to say more?
"I'll be able to keep quiet. Keep this to myself. We can pretend it never happened if that's what you want." She watched him blink at her. "You don't need to be concerned with any of the legal ramifica—"
"Let me clarify," he said, stepping off the door. "Do you think you'll be able to keep quiet," he repeated, moving toward her, face relaxing slightly, and the smallest smirk tugging at his lips, "or do I need to silence the room."
She blinked at him. He stopped in front of her, hands still in his pockets, and lips twitching. She squeezed the papers in her fingers, across her chest.
He was… They were…
She swallowed, and wet her lips on accident. His eyes darkened.
"You'll need to silence the room."
He smirked at her, eyes flashing. While he muttered the silencing charm and the locking spell, she cast the contraceptive charm. She tossed her notes onto the couch and threw herself at him.
He stepped backwards with her momentum, hands coming to her hips as hers twisted into his hair, pulling his lips down to hers.
She brushed hurried kisses across his mouth before he finally reached up with a hand and held her face still as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips and tasting her. They both sighed, exhaling into each other.
"Merlin, I thought I lost you," he sighed against her jaw as he worked his lips over towards her shoulder. The hand at her face slid into her hair.
She chuckled lowly. "You thought?" She gasped as he ran his teeth across an old bruise. He must love that spot. "You're the one being so cagey—"
"I was aiming for playful," he hissed into her ear.
"You're always playful—"
He slipped the hand on her hip around to grab her, pulling her closer to his hips. She let her hands leave his hair and travel to the buttons on his waistcoat. As soon as the first button popped open, the hand in her hair gripped her, and even more of her neck was exposed to him.
Her fingers worked to remove all the buttons, and once he shrugged out of it, lips never leaving her neck, he moved both hands to her backside, grabbing her and lifting her up. She squeaked, grabbed his shoulders, and had a moment where she didn't understand the point of it. She opened her eyes and they were face to face, and he started walking them towards the couch behind her.
But instead of the couch, he pressed her against the wall next to it. Just where she had stood for one of the poses in the first photoshoot. As he pressed her spine against the wall, moving his hands to the backs of her thighs, twisting them around his hips, she smiled that this was the place she'd been standing for the poses against the window. When Draco had walked in, sliding his jacket on, and seen her for the first time.
He kissed her again. And she found that the best way to keep from falling was to squeeze him and let his hips pin her against the wall. He groaned against her mouth.
One hand came up and began unbuttoning her blouse while the other moved slow circles on her thigh. As it was coming off of her, she thought of today's outfit – how pleased she had been that it was a very professional skirt/blouse combination and how badly she needed professionalism today.
"Er," Hermione said, as Draco popped the last button on her blouse and opened it wide to see her. "The paperwork? Are you worried about it at all?"
"The Werewolf financials? No, of course not." He palmed her through her bra.
She pressed her lips together, and tried to keep her eyes open. "I – I meant the… contract."
"Contract?" The hand rubbing circles on her thigh had somehow found its way between them, now rubbing her over her knickers. The other hand was now travelling around her back to her bra clasp.
She moaned. Then bit out, "The Love Contract."
Both hands stilled, and the hand pressing between them paused mid-rub, pressing over her sensitive spot.
Oh, god. Why was she talking?
She opened her eyes and his grey ones were watching her, pink on his cheeks.
"Are you worried about it?" he said, eyes darting back and forth between hers, and she was very aware of the hand pressing against her center, and she wished he would either remove it or move it.
"Only in the sense that I signed a document promising not to do this." She squeezed her thighs around his hips – accidentally, of course – and somehow it pushed them together, his hand pressing firm to her core. She gasped, eyelids fluttering, and tried to keep herself from doing it again.
When her eyes focused on him, his smirk was back, and the fingers searching for the clasp on her bra continued their journey. He answered, "Only in the sense that I created a document to keep us from doing this."
Her bra snapped open, and his fingers dipped below her knickers.
"And to keep Blaise away from Melody," he added, kissing her neck.
"Well, that's not working." She chuckled against his temple. Her thighs were shaking as he ran a finger along her center, moving up to press against her bud, and her whole body shivered. He circled her, running in different directions, and his other arm came around her waist to support her. Her bra momentarily forgotten, hanging off her shoulders.
"We can discuss it later, I guess." She mumbled in between gasps. "It's a common contract for businesses, especially privately owned. I've looked it up."
"Shh." Against her ear. "You can teach me later."
She felt him smile against her ear, and she responded with one of her own. She was just wondering if her hands should be doing something, seeing as his were doing all the things when she felt two fingers run towards her opening and push inside of her.
She yelped. The pinching was back, but it wasn't good. It felt so much more tender than it had two days ago. It was like she'd pulled muscles, but they were inside.
"What's wrong?"
Draco pulled out of her. She had her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted in his shirt. She remembered what Ginny told her, about needing to wait a few days before trying again. She took a slow breath in and opened her eyes, embarrassed that her vision was wet.
"I'm fine," she tried, smiling. "Just sore. Keep going."
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"I'm fine," she repeated. She slid her hands up into his hair and pulled his lips to hers. He kissed her, then stepped backwards, moving them off the wall, turning, and deposited her on the arm of the black leather couch.
Her shaking legs thanked him, but she still held him close, worried that they were stopping.
"Don't stop. I'm fine," she breathed against his neck. "I want this."
He shivered, and pulled back to look at her. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge, and slid his hand back under her knickers. He flicked her twice, watching her pull her lip between her teeth, before swirling down and pressing one long finger into her.
Yes, this was nice. She sighed as he pumped in and out of her several times, twisting and then pressing on her again, flicking her, swirling her. She pressed against his hand, trying to meet his rhythm.
"Draco, I'm ready. I'm ready, please." She looked up at him. He was holding himself up with one hand on the arm of the couch next to her, leaning down to her level. He watched her as he slipped out, and then tried pressing two fingers back inside.
She bit her lip, squeaking, and knew her eyes were pressed closed. It was like her body didn't want to do this, but it did at the same time. She opened her eyes and nodded at him. "That's fine. I'm ready." She nodded vigorously, clenching her jaw.
He raised a brow at her, suspiciously, and tried moving inside of her. She gripped his arms, surprised that his shirt was still on, and attempted to control her facial expressions.
He frowned at her and removed his hand, standing up tall.
"No, no. Draco I'm ready." She pulled her bra off, tossing it away, and reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt. She watched his eyes slide across her chest, proud of the way he licked his lips. He slipped his shirt off his shoulders once she was done.
She hesitated, then reached for his belt. She watched the muscles in his stomach tighten, and his arms twitched, like he would stop her. Once the belt was open, she looked up at him. His chest was heaving, and she got to run her eyes over his skin.
She started unbuttoning his trousers, trying to ignore the bulge pressing against the front. His hands clenched into fists as she undid the lower buttons, and she knew her fingers were brushing against him.
Good. He'd done something similar to her on Saturday night, and she felt the skin on her exposed chest shiver at the memory of him taking his pants off against her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her breasts pull into taut peaks.
She purposefully let her fingers scrape down the tent in his trousers as she finished with the last of the buttons, and just when she thought she had the upper hand, he reached forward and cupped a breast. Her fingers stuttered over him as he pulled at her, rolling her, tracing her underside and then rubbing his thumb over her.
It took her thirty seconds to remember how to undo the last button on his trousers. She was panting. She reached up to his waistline, ready to pull his pants down, and he switched hands, pulling and plucking at her other breast. He pinched her and she moaned, dropping her head onto his stomach, hands resting on his hips still. He continued running his thumb in tight circles around her, over and over, never edging closer and she panted against his stomach, watching his muscles shake.
Could this put her over the edge? She realized she was shifting her hips against the couch, trying to find friction. Her knickers were still on, so she widened her legs, trying to pull the fabric closer to her bud, slightly embarrassed at all the moisture.
It helped a little. She moaned as he finally pulled at her breast. She could feel it rising in her, and she was just about to bring her hands to her core when Draco dropped his hand from her chest, pulled his trousers down, and knelt in front of her.
His eyes were hot, looking up at her, and his tongue ran across his teeth as he reached up and started tugging her knickers down.
"Oh, god, yes."
She lifted her hips and then she was only wearing her skirt. She was ready. She would grit her way through this if it meant he kept looking at her like this. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her knee. She bit her lip.
He watched her as he pressed another kiss against her leg, a little higher. Then another. He was halfway up her thigh before she realized what he was going to do.
"Oh – I… er…" She blushed. "You don't… That's…"
He puffed air against her and she clenched, instinctively trying to close her legs around something, and realized he had her held open, one hand on the inside of each knee.
"Granger, why don't you tell me the history of the Giant Squid in the Hogwarts lake?" He licked his lips, and pressed another kiss higher on her thigh, watching her with hot eyes.
She blinked at him, hands tightening around the leather couch.
"What?" She gasped.
"It was deposited there in 1306, yes?" He breathed against her again, and she groaned.
"No, it was there from the beginning. The founders –"
And he kissed her right on her core. She couldn't define the sound that was wrenched out of her lungs, but she dug her fingers into the leather, and tried bringing her knees together again. He ran his hands halfway up her thighs, still held open.
"Yes? The founders?" He lifted an innocent brow at her, and waited.
"The f-founders placed Hogwarts castle on the—" He dipped his head, still looking into her eyes. "The – the grounds, next to the black lake." She could feel his breath on her. "So, the giant squid was there all alo- oh!" His tongue. He was… He was pushing his tongue against her. Starting from below and licking upward.
This was… far too intimate. She couldn't…
Hermione brought her hands up to her face, pressing her eyes closed as he started another slow swipe.
"And the squid," he mumbled into her. "It's a greenish color, yes?"
"No, it's r-red." She curled her fingers against her face. "Dark red. Almost purple." Her thighs were starting to fight him now, shaking. She either wanted to close them and push him out, or hold him there. She hadn't decided.
"It's killed people, I've heard."
"No, no." She moaned as he licked at her again. "It's very docile. Helpful even. It's had sev-several quarrels with the merpeople but –" And his lips closed around her bud. And sucked.
She gasped, and her hands grappled for his hair, trying to hold on.
"Oh, god Draco. Please!"
"What about the merpeople?"
She dragged her nails through his scalp, pinching her eyes closed, afraid to look down at him.
"In 1497 the merpeople revolted, and – and – and –" He was lapping at her, trying different rhythms, different pressure. "And they – and they tried to – "
She realized that she was pushing her hips against him, dragging his face closer with every flick of his tongue. But she guessed he'd stop her if he cared. She twisted his hair around her fingers and she felt him groan against her. She bucked her hips forward at the vibrations.
"They tried – The merpeople tried to – tried to –"
She was like a broken record, she couldn't go on. She didn't dare open her eyes. She was afraid to see him between her thighs, knowing it would burn into her memory forever.
"Ugh, Draco, please."
And she felt the press of a finger inside of her, his mouth still working above. She began to splinter, reaching an edge, and she could hear her own voice saying a number of things, and making little breathy moans in time with his tongue, and she could feel him grunting and breathing hard against her.
She screamed as she broke apart. She pressed her hips against his mouth, holding him there. She had her hands tangled in his hair, and her thighs clenched closed around his neck. He continued flicking his tongue across her, as she pulsed. When she was done and couldn't handle it anymore, she released him.
He pulled his finger from her, and she almost fell backwards and down onto the couch cushions, forgetting there was nothing behind her. She grabbed at the backrest of the couch to hold herself up, and slowly opened her eyes when she heard him moving.
A quick sound, in time with his breathing. And she saw the top of his head from where he knelt in front of her, hair twisted and slick. His eyes were dark and deep as he ran his gaze from her exposed folds, up to her bare chest, and further to her face. He bit his lip, and groaned, and she suddenly realized that he was finishing himself.
She blinked and looked away, unsure if she was supposed to see. Of course. He should. She hadn't really done all that much for him.
A cut off cry, and she knew he was finished. He must have painted the side of the couch. He dropped his head onto her inner thigh breathing harshly against her. The lock of blond hair that always fell across his forehead was misbehaving again, and Hermione bit her lip and decided that she was allowed to push it back for him.
As her fingers brushed behind his ear, his eyes connected with hers. He pressed a kiss against her thigh, and lifted his head off of her.
"So," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Do you think you have a handle on the Werewolf financials?" He smirked up at her.
She couldn't help but smile down on him. "I don't know," she said. "You may have to go over that last part again."
His eyes flashed at her. "I'll schedule a meeting tomorrow at lunch."
Tuesday at lunch, Draco taught her a valuable lesson about the wonders of dry-humping. As she lay on her back on the leather couch, with Draco moving deliciously against her, she thought it was just about time to remove their underthings and get to it.
But Draco brought her right to the edge, and followed her over it. Again, another mess on the couch.
She pieced together that Draco was wary about entering her again. She did them both the favor of trying a few things in the shower Wednesday morning, making her feel like she was quite ready to try again.
On Wednesday's lunchtime "meeting," she attempted telling Draco this without so many words, and even found her way into his pants for the first time. He let her stroke him and try things and he'd tell her what worked and what would feel better. He had her pressed up against the door, barely letting her through it before slamming her back, but now his head was resting on her shoulder as she pulled at him. When he grabbed her hips, squeezing, she knew it was about time.
She released him and shimmied out of her dress, stepping out of her underwear too. He watched her as she dropped his trunks to the floor, and she pulled him against her, biting her lip. She found a way to get back into the position they had been in on Monday, her legs around his hips and his hips about to pound her into the door.
She didn't know much about how to… position oneself... Nor was she in a great position to start the momentum, but she knew she was ready, and he was still watching her, frowning at her, but hard against her.
She kissed him, trying to rub herself against him again, grabbing at his hair and biting his lips, and he pulled away about to tell her she didn't have to.
She lifted a brow, mimicking him. "Don't be such a Hufflepuff about it, Draco."
His jaw dropped, his eyes wide. She smirked and he kissed it off of her. When he entered her, it was tight again, but nothing like the pain had been on Monday. Once she had convinced him for the third time that he could go faster, the way his hips snapped her against the door had it rattling in its frame.
They paused, listening to the echo, wondering if they could hear it outside the silenced room. He laughed, moving them off the door and against the wall next to it.
On Thursday, she had to sit through an entire meeting with Draco and Mr. Buckworth in her office. She sat behind her desk, with Draco staring at her while Mr. Buckworth and she discussed the Werewolf Policy.
At the end, Draco offered to walk Mr. Buckworth to the lifts. When he returned, he locked the door and silenced the room.
Hermione swallowed.
Five minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of her desk, hooking her leg around Draco's hips, letting him undress her.
He did sweep his arm across her desk, throwing everything onto the floor, and they did laugh about it.
On Friday, they were back in his office. She started to feel guilty about never discussing work with him, so she tried to talk about the progress on the Snidget project while he undressed her. He let her talk, sucking at her neck and placing her on his desk.
When she laid back, she realized that everything was already cleared from his desk, and decided to just let the cool marble sink into her sink as he worked off her laced shoes.
Once her shoes were off, he kissed her heel, and then her calf, and continued to drop sucking kisses up her legs, ghosting over her knickers, and then sliding up her stomach. He dipped to the right, and tried to place a kiss on each rib.
The marble was digging into her fingers as she grabbed the edges of the desk, and he was halfway up her chest when he pulled back, staring down at her.
He frowned.
"What?"
He let his hand run across her ribs, looking down at her strangely.
"Are you sick?"
Her brows came together. "Sick?"
"You're thin." He pressed a finger lightly in between two ribs.
She blinked up at him. "Thank you?"
This was the time to discuss this?
"Thinner."
She laughed. "I haven't had lunch in five days." She chuckled, reaching for him.
He blinked at her.
And that was how Hermione found herself eating a salad in Draco's office.
He'd straightened his clothes, and poked his head out to ask his secretary – Carrie. Carrie the Secretary. How had it been that easy? – to order them lunch from the café around the corner.
He'd come back to her, made her scream, and then instead of getting her clothes on, fixing her hair, and making her way across the floor back to her office, they'd sat on the leather couch, eating the food delivery.
It was… awkward. Almost like a date. When the silence and crunching had gone on long enough, she started talking about work. He was much more amenable to a back and forth now, and they ended up making a plan for the first week of Wizengamot hearings in March.
"Will you be at Cornerstone this weekend?" he asked her as he crumbled up the wrappings for his sandwich.
She chewed, pushing at her cucumbers and wondering what the right answer to this question was.
"Yes." She pressed her lips together. "Will you?"
"Maybe Sunday." He brushed a few crumbs off the couch and vanished them.
She bit back a grin. "Is there a book you need?"
"Something like that."
She looked up at him and he was smirking at her. She started organizing her remaining tomatoes with her fork.
Her smile fell as she thought of the way he disappeared to New York, or the cagey meeting he had with Slughorn at the governor's ball, or the response from Noelle that she was still waiting on. She wanted to know things about him still, wanted to know how he spent his time.
"What do you have tomorrow?" She couldn't fight the blush that rose on her neck.
He paused before answering, and she looked up at him. He was staring at the carpet.
"I'm visiting my father."
Oh. No, never mind. There were some things she didn't want to know.
"Is … is everything alright? Or…?"
"It was part of his conditions to the inheritance. That I visit him on the monthly visitations in January and February." His voice was clipped and his jaw clenched.
It wasn't the only conditions…
And she wondered when it was that he visited Lucius in January.
Hermione nodded, like Draco had just said something she agreed with, and continued to build huts with her vegetables.
Her salad container was taken from her, and she looked up as Draco was moving it to the floor, and moving to kiss her.
She smiled against him as he leaned across her to press their lips together.
"Ugh," he said, pulling back. "You taste like bleu cheese." He wrinkled his nose.
She laughed and held onto his shoulders. She knew from watching him in the Great Hall that he hated bleu cheese dressing. "If you'd told me we'd be kissing again, I wouldn't have ordered it," she mumbled against his mouth.
"No, no. It's your favorite."
He kissed her. And her chest was warm.
He'd watched her in the Great Hall too.
Monsieur DuBois had her yawning. She was doing a fantastic job of hiding her gaping mouth every time he brought up Renaissance artwork and how it clashes terribly with Venetian rugs.
They met every Saturday afternoon at a Muggle cafe that seemed to be Monsieur DuBois's favorite place. They knew him by name there. Hermione ordered an espresso drink that day, because her eyes could not keep open. She was just letting the breeze from the outdoor patio they were on lull her, and the sun across her forehead warm her.
"Da Vinci was, of course, a Squib -"
This caught Hermione's ears. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Monsieur DuBois raised a calculated brow at her. "I said, Leonardo da Vinci was a Squib. His great grandfather was the Italian Minister of Magic in 1414."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I... had never heard of that. Do you happen to know of any books on the topic that I could look into?"
"Well," Monsieur DuBois shifted in his chair, crossing his legs and turning slightly away from her. "I've seen it on a family tree."
"Hmm." Hermione pursed her lips.
The waiter came over, flirted a bit with Monsieur DuBois, and took their food order. Hermione truly hated the salads at this cafe. She had now tried every salad on the menu and not a one of them was filling or tasty. She decided on a bowl of soup today.
She glanced at her timepiece as inconspicuously as possible, but it wasn't good enough.
"Do you have somewhere to be, Miss Granger?"
She looked up at him. "No, no. Just... checking the time, Monsieur."
She sipped her espresso.
Monsieur DuBois pulled out a book of Renaissance decor, and started discussing the styles, the architecture. He began detailing the proper maintenance of a Renaissance mansion, and what a proper remodel would include.
The sun had just started slanting into Hermione's eyes as Monsieur DuBois explained the truly disastrous remodel that the French Minister had attempted. He began chuckling at things that Hermione couldn't possibly understand. She grinned as best she could.
The waiter's shadow falling across her face when he returned to their table shook Hermione out of her trance a bit. She waited for her soup to be set down in front of her, grateful for the shield from the sun.
When Monsieur DuBois stopped speaking, and no soup was set before her, Hermione looked up at the person shading her from the sun, and her blood ran cold to see Draco, jaw tight, but smiling down at Monsieur DuBois.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Monsieur DuBois chirped. "My, you look splendid. Would you like to join us?"
Hermione felt the caffeine in her stomach turn and tumble as she watched Draco grin at the older man, shaking his hand. She concentrated on forcing her lungs to expand.
"I apologize, Monsieur, but something has come up actually," Draco said. She watched his face tighten and twitch even as he smiled. "Miss Granger will not be able to finish her lesson today."
Lesson.
There was no way around it. He knew. Lucius told him.
She swallowed.
"Oh," Monsieur DuBois pouted, looking back and forth between them. "I do hope everything is alright."
She watched Malfoy blink at him. He turned his eyes on her, hot and aggressive. "I'm afraid not."