A/N: Just a short note that I am so grateful you're paying this story some attention and that I am so lucky to have had niffizzle as my beta!

PS: It gets a bit smutty in here, but nothing too graphic.

Draco loved his job. Really, he did. Where else in the wizarding world could one order witches and wizards to duel without ending up in Azkaban?

Before obtaining the teaching position at Hogwarts, he had travelled the world and studied under different Masters. His family's connection to the Dark Arts had always been there, unreflected, but now he needed a deeper, more cognitive understanding of them to distance himself from certain practices, but also to acquire the skill to handle them with care.

Duelling had always been a chance for him to let off some steam, just like Quidditch. He found both to be equally challenging yet simultaneously relaxing (that is if he won). Though, everyone with some decent hand-eye coordination and balance could be a passable Quidditch player (except Hermione, for whatever reason), but holding a wand didn't automatically qualify someone for duelling. Still, it was something one could learn.

If one listened to their professor.

Like some students never did. Draco sighed and ended the 'duel' between Everton and Prewett. "This is a duel, Prewett. You have to move fast and think even faster. Not like, 'I have to tie my shoelaces. Wait a moment. Oh, there's a pretty flower! Let me pluck it for you.'"

The other students standing nearby laughed, but Draco was having none of it.

"Do you see me laughing?" He pointed to his face. No laugh. Not even a smirk. The perfect mask of Malfoyness. "No, because it isn't funny." Draco folded his arms behind his back and lowered his voice for effect. If he had learned anything from Snape, it was that a low voice often had a bigger effect on students than shouting over their voices (and: flouncing).

"This subject is called Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of course, I hope you'll never get involved in a real duel when you leave school. But I can't guarantee that. So I'm doing my best to teach you how to identify and categorise dangerous and dark magic, and how you can defensively and offensively react to it, if need be." He unfolded his arms and gestured at his students. "But too many of you treat duelling practice like Exploding Snap or Quidditch, like a game you can win but is also okay to lose from time to time." Of course, Draco was over exaggerating a bit, but he wanted to convey a message: that some things you learned at school could save your life one day. Especially when in a society that handed everyone a stick of wood one could easily kill with.

"But we're always fighting against our classmates... I've never seen a real duel," Prewett spoke up, and Draco thought the boy had a point. Even with this range of students ages, they had exclusively practised one learner duelling another.

Draco wasn't one of those teachers who ignored pupils' critiques or was even felt insulted by them. He took their remarks seriously when adequately and politely voiced.

"I can't deny you have a point here. Would a demonstration help?" Nods all around. "Then I believe you'll have a treat in store next class." Now, he smirked. Because he had always wanted this special duel.

This would be much bigger than Potter as a duelling partner.

This would be his witch.

It had been surprisingly easy to get Hermione to agree to the duel the next day. The competitive gleam in her eyes and her mischievous smile, along with her, "This is going to be so much fun!" made him worry that she may enjoy this a bit too much.

As for that 'thing' happening between them, they were taking their time. Except for the occasional snog in the evening hours, it was all very innocent. And Draco was surprised by himself that he was honestly content with that. He couldn't recall any other time that the progression in one of his relationships (at least, the physical part of it) had been so slow. Maybe he was getting old. Or simply mature. They hadn't even talked about labelling the slow shift between them, even if they probably should have by now, but instead, they wanted to see where it took them. His eighteen years old self would've probably thought him crazy. Because his attraction to the witch was definitely there.

But for now, Draco put all the thoughts of snogging and emotional stuff aside because he had a duel to win.

"Some explanations before we start," he announced to the keen mass of observing students. Even students who weren't getting remediation in Defense Against the Dark Arts had shown up for the event, word spreading quickly about what was about to occur this afternoon. "You all see that line?" Draco pointed his wand at the shimmering barrier that separated the students from the duelling area in the middle of his classroom. "This is where you will stay behind. We drew wards and enchantments so you will be protected from stray hexes and such. Furthermore, you can see Professor Granger and I are wearing sports attire. In an actual duel, you can't change into something comfortable before the first curse hits you. But in this demonstration, we want to educate you, so you should pay close attention to our movements and posture."

He heard an older girl comment, probably not as quiet as she would have liked, "Don't worry, I'm paying very close attention to your body, Professor Malfoy."

"Yes, I know that, Miss Weaver, but you should favour my wand arm movements over my bum in your observations, if you are so kind?" Giggling erupted all around.

He was in no position to judge because he was quite sure Hermione had chosen her clothes to distract him. Her tank top and leggings weren't immodest or unprofessional in any way, but, Salazar, he wanted to see what was hidden beneath the layer of fabric clinging to her skin. With her hair in a high ponytail and the rest of her curls magically suspended, she looked like the personification of determined.

"Are we ready, Professor Malfoy?" she asked, her lips forming a smile and every syllable a challenge.

He slowly raised his wand in the formal greeting before smiling back at her. "Obviously."

As soon as the first spell was spoken, Hermione and Draco forgot that there were other people in the room, and the world narrowed down to only the two of them.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione, like the Gryffindor she was, opened the confrontation. Draco deflected it with a shield spell, almost lazily firing back.

"Tarantallegra!" easily got deflected by Hermione. They were only getting to know each other's moves. Because even if they had quite a few confrontations at school, it had been years they had seen each other in a situation like this.

Draco smoothly side-stepped Hermione's Bat Bogey Hex but was surprised when an "Anteoculatia!" followed only a split second later, forcing him to let himself fall flat on the floor because he wasn't all too keen on growing antlers. Despite this, he grinned. She was a genius, after all, and he should have known better than to underestimate his opponent.

But so should she. From his position on his stomach, he sent a "Liquidus!" to the floor right behind her feet, causing her to jump forward to avoid the fall into the liquified mass he had created. The jump brought her closer to him, and he used the opportunity to pull her knees out from under her.

With a heavy thump, Hermione landed on her back right next to him. She made an angry noise and didn't waste another second to push herself up again, but not without casually elbowing him in the back and grinning triumphantly at Draco's pained grunt.

From then on, the students - yes, they still were there - had problems following the hexes, charms, and other spells that seemed to blend together. The two professors both gave as good as the got, drawing from their personal repertoire of magic and physical tricks.

Exhilaration and joy coursed throughout Hermione's body, along with a newfound admiration of Draco's skills that caused magic to prickle under her skin that had nothing to do with spells and wands. Two key personality traits of Draco had come together unexpectedly: his suave and controlled pureblood manner mixed with the passionate, powerful, and so damn spellbinding (pun intended) man he was to her - a lethal combination. Lethal for the humidity status in her knickers, especially. But that could also have been the sweat pouring down her back.

Draco's brain wasn't in a much better state because he was caught between defending himself, giving her a taste of his capabilities, and being in awe of her fierceness and creativity. She combined raw, magical power and her own body to fight him. She was a goddess.

After what could have been twenty minutes or two hours, Draco thought he had finally overpowered Hermione. He had one arm slung around her from behind, and the hand of the other was pressing the tip of his wand against her throat.

Just when he wanted to announce his victory, he felt Hermione's wand poke against his ribs, aimed right at his heart. The witch had apparently wriggled one arm free. They had landed themselves in a draw.

Hermione felt his breath hot against her neck, causing her to shiver viscerally. She had to close her eyes for a moment, gathering her bearings. Damn the effect he had on her. Her pulse was hammering against her ribcage, and every heavy breath caused his chest to press against her back, making her want to turn in his arms and -

"That should be enough, don't you think?" she whispered.

His answering nod made his nose rub against her ear, and her knees wobbled. "I suppose." His voice was as husky as hers.

He released her and she pulled her wand away, turning towards him. Still running high on adrenaline and magic, they both made a small bow, signalling the formal end of the duel.

"This is how you complete a duel with two equally strong partners. A draw is not as triumphant as a win, but a very good way to finish." Draco's eyes didn't leave Hermione when he ordered, "I expect an analysis from all of you by tomorrow. Thank you for your attention. We sincerely hope you enjoyed the lesson."

The students, in awe, left the room, understanding his words as dismissal and whispering to each other excitedly. Though, the two adults could only decipher that based on the background noises, because they couldn't take the eyes off of each other, both still heavily panting, their skin flushed.

Without making the conscious decision to do so, Draco raised his wand to lock and silence the room.

"That was-" he started but trailed off, searching for the adequate description.

"Intense?"

"Yes," he admitted proudly. "We're quite evenly matched. I can't remember the last time someone was so close to my skill in a duel. You're impressive."

Hermione smiled nervously at his praise, suddenly realising they were only a few inches away from each other. She could still feel the heat of his body radiating from him. But she was even more captivated by the waves of something else rolling off him, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken by his tense posture and his almost black eyes, it was pure, intense lust.

Lust for her.

That thought alone was intoxicating.

"Does this mean the great Defense Master will fall to my feet now?" she asked coyly.

"No."

"No? That's rather-"

And then his lips were on hers, his hands were on the back of her head, and his tongue was entangled with her own. Hermione grabbed his t-shirt, reaching around to put her hands on his shoulder blades, pulling him even closer into her.

This felt different than their past snogging. More passionate, more dominating, more everything.

It was foreplay, and they both knew it.

"Give me a bit to shower, and I will get on my knees and between your legs, not to your feet." Draco more groaned than spoke against her neck, his wandering hands skimming the naked skin above her waistband.

She pushed his shirt up, signalling him to pull it off. "A Refreshing Charm will have to do. We've got forty minutes til dinner."

"You're so romantic," he chuckled and cupped one of her breasts.

She hissed in surprise. "I'm practical."

"I am, too," Draco said in between kisses and vanished both of their clothing, making her gasp when she suddenly felt his naked skin on hers. Without a pause, he lifted her, her legs automatically wrapping around his hips. She wanted to take a closer look at him, but she was too far gone in her need.

One leftover rational thought crossed her hazy mind, and she knew it was important to voice it. "I'm on the potion," she moaned against his lips as he carried her over to his office, the evidence of his arousal prodding hard and heavy against her bum.

"That's the second sexiest thing you've ever said."

And she believed him.

A bit ungracefully, Draco sat Hermione on his desk, not even flinching when several rolls of parchment, a few books, and an almost full ink bottle crashed to the ground. He had more important things to do now.

Like going down on the witch in front of him.

Slowly, Draco traced his tongue over Hermione's collarbones, down to the valley between her breasts, stopping only to give each perfect nipple a small kiss. The yearning noises she gave were making him even harder. His hands wandered from her knees, over the thighs she instinctively spread for him, towards her centre. Carefully, he caressed her outer lips, finding her hot and wet and so ready for him. He wanted to taste her so badly, but when he started to lower himself to his knees, Hermione grabbed his face with both hands.

"No, not this time. I want… I need -" She felt almost feverish in her desire to have him inside her.

"What do you need, Hermione?" His tone alone had her almost coming. He stood between her legs now, and she couldn't remember ever wanting a man so much.

"I need you" - she grabbed his hard cock and stroked it two, three times before positioning it at her entrance, making him moan and her even wetter - "to fill me."

And that he did when he slipped into her after slightly bending his knees.

"With pleasure," he groaned.

They learned and taught a lot in the following nineteen minutes. Hermione taught Draco how she wanted her nipples sucked, but didn't like his teeth on them. Draco learned that when Hermione came, she wasn't vocal, but instead became silent in her ecstasy, her eyes closed in bliss and her pussy gripping him so tightly he knew he couldn't have handled sex with her at eighteen.

He taught her how he loved when her gentle caresses over his neck contrasted with his hard thrusts. And Hermione learned that when he finally spilled himself into her, he made a low, moaning noise that was so erotic, she had another orgasm that had every nerve in her body singing.

The afterglow was strangely romantic. After wandlessly cleaning them up, Hermione rested her head against Draco's shoulder, his arms enclosing her. He mindlessly and reverently played with her curls while she drew small circles against his lower back.

"So," she began after a while, "being a responsible adult for taking a contraceptive and disease preventing potion is only the second sexiest thing I've said to you so far? What is number one then?"

He chuckled warmly. "Well, roughly twenty minutes ago, I would have said it was 'As you see, I'm very wet right now' when you came to my door after the water bucket incident."

She laughed, knowing she would have to recreate this scene for him one day, though with a different outcome. "And now?"

"I am very proud that I didn't come after two seconds like a fumbling teenager when you said you wanted me to fill you." He smirked, running a finger over the heated flesh between her legs.

She breathed in sharply, but retaliated, "You think that was the best I can do? Are you challenging me, Professor Malfoy?"

"Of course. Don't I always?" Despite his seductive words, Draco gently lifted her off his desk, winking. "But first, we have a hoard of hungry pupils who will ask questions if their professors don't show up for dinner."

Hermione laughed and started dressing, but not without stealing some kisses from Draco and unabashed glances at his body. She honestly couldn't wait to continue their private staff meeting later that evening.