Draco leaned back on the closed door and let out a frustrated breath, running his hands through his hair. Their make-out session on the couch had been more than he'd hoped for.

He had wanted to kiss Hermione goodnight before she'd even arrived. The kiss from the previous weekend, after he'd walked her home from their slightly drunken night at the pub, had left him wanting. He wanted something more with her, more than the friendly banter each morning, more than the growing friendship that they'd been dancing around, much more. He'd felt something stir inside him from the moment he'd first seen her - arse in the air and cursing - and the more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know her. She was smart and funny, sassy and sweet, and the glimmer of her temper that he'd witnessed at the pub intrigued him.

And now, the small glimpse into her personal life; she had an ex-husband, which he had to admit, had been a complete shock. How anyone could be her ex-anything astounded him. And he was beyond curious as to exactly what had happened between them. He was sure there was more to it than the simple he left me for another woman story that she had told him. She'd tried to hide her reaction when he had asked her, but the flicker of anger in her eyes told him her attempted nonchalance was masking the anger that she clearly still felt towards the arsehole.

And most importantly she adored his son, and the feelings were mutual. Scorpius looked forward to his Friday afternoons at the bookshop and he asked Draco to say 'hello' to Hermione every morning for him. And he had not once asked if anyone else other than Draco would read to him before bed. Not even his grandparents were allowed the privilege. But tonight, he'd not even hesitated.

Draco picked up the glasses from the coffee table and rinsed them in the sink, the menial task doing nothing to resolve the heat in his belly or the growing problem in his pants. The same heat that had settled low in his stomach the second she had walked in the door; his son wasn't alone in his excitement of her being in their home. And now it was worse than when she had first arrived. After their make-out session he was harder than ever. Her scent was all around him, the feel of her hips grinding slowly against him, the taste of her mouth on his.

"Ga-ah!" He growled in frustration, "Fuck!"

He kicked off his shoes and crossed the living room, checking that Scorpius was still asleep and he smiled at his sleeping son. He was sprawled on his back, his arms flung above his head, a peaceful, content look on his face. He left the door slightly ajar and dimmed the hallway light and then he headed towards his own bedroom and its adjoining bathroom, pulling his shirt off. He turned the shower on, Cold he thought and tugged his jeans and boxer-briefs down. He looked down at himself, definitely cold.

He squeezed his eyes shut, admonishing himself, No, he couldn't. He couldn't - shouldn't - think about her. Could he? He stood under the cold water for another minute, his thoughts wandering; the feel of her mouth against his, her hands digging into his hair, the tiny sound she made when his tongue slid against hers. Good holy fuck, it had been amazing.

He was curious about her reason for not wanting sex. Not that he wanted to pressure her, not at all. He would gladly wait, but the attraction was there, and if her reactions to him simply kissing her on the couch were any indication, she would certainly be a willing participant. He wondered if what Harry and Theo had hinted at was the reason or if it was that her ex-husband had broken her heart so badly that she resisted any form of intimacy? He didn't think that was solely the reason, there was clearly more to it than that.

Ah, fuck it! He thought, and adjusted the water temperature, his body instantly heating up, his cock growing even harder. He took himself in hand, closing his eyes and seeing only her as he slowly stroked himself until he was fully hard and throbbing. He imagined it was her hand, her thumb swiping over his tip making him shudder. He imagined her naked, the water from the shower running between her breasts, down her stomach and thighs and moaned quietly.

...DM#HG...

Hermione wasn't faring much better.

She had driven home with her heart racing and the heat that had pooled between her thighs during their session on the couch was still swirling inside her. It had been a constant back and forth in her mind as to whether she should have stayed or if she did the right thing by leaving. She trudged up the steps to her flat, fishing her phone from her bag and dropping her bag onto the kitchen counter. She had a line up of missed messages; Ginny, Pansy and Katie, all wondering how her date went.

The first from Pansy - How'd the date go ;) and then ten minutes later – No answer...must be going well.

Did he like your underwear? Are you still wearing your underwear? Please tell me he tore it off you and you need to buy new underwear? Ginny's text ended with emojis: a bikini, a pair of lips and a tongue. Hermione shook her head, but her cheeks felt hot at the images those three tiny pictures conjured up.

Katie– who had clearly decided to join her pervy colleagues and get in on the act – simply sent her a text that had a bed and smirking face.

She chose to ignore them all, and headed for her bedroom. She looked at her empty bed and sighed. She hated to admit it, but Ginny was right, it had been far too long since anyone besides herself had been in her bed. And she found herself picturing Draco sleeping beside her.

She stripped down to her completely intact, completely unobserved by Draco, underwear and flopped down onto her bed, a frustrated huff of air leaving her lungs. She should have left as soon as Scorpius had fallen asleep. She should have thanked him and left, because now she was frustrated and she was craving him; the press of his lips on hers, his tongue, his taste. She closed her eyes and brushed her fingers across her lips, knowing she wanted more, and the mere thought of simply kissing him had her warm and damp. What would it be like to have him naked and pressed against her?

No, she thought, I can't. I can't think of him.

She reached behind her back unclasping her bra and shimmying out of it. Her nipples were already hard and sensitive as she ran her fingers lazily across them. She skimmed her fingers along the lace of her underwear, sliding them lower to circle her clit over the thin material.

Screw it she thought and slid her underwear off, spreading her thighs. She slid her fingers down to find her clit, closed her eyes and pictured him as she circled the sensitive bud, taking her time, working herself slowly.

His hands, his tongue she thought with a sigh. She spread her thighs wide, as a pleasant warmth spread through her belly and down towards her core. Her fingers slid to her entrance, gathering the moisture she found there and pulling it between her folds. He would do this slowly, she thought, he would take his time to savour her and she groaned as her hips began to rock.

...DM#HG...

Draco was breathing hard, the picture in his head of Hermione having worked him up quicker than any other woman, fantasy or real, ever had. He imagined her delicate fingers stroking him, her small palm cupping his balls, her tongue sliding across his chest. He imagined her wet, naked body pressed against his as she leaned up to capture his mouth and kiss him. She'd take her time, brushing her fingers over every muscle, every scar, every inch of his skin, burning him into her memory.

And he would return the favour; touching her, feeling every inch of her body and memorising every curve. His fingers would slip between her thighs and find her hot and wet, and the moan that would fall from her open mouth would almost have him toppling over as his fingers slipped inside her and he fucked her with his hand.

The slow, sensual fantasy playing out in his head suddenly changed, and he groaned, pumping his hand harder, faster. He was picturing her sliding down his torso and landing on her knees, her fingers digging into his arse, her mouth dangerously close to his cock. He flicked his thumb over the sensitive head, her tongue he thought and repeated the movement. He squeezed harder, picturing her taking him into her mouth, her wet tongue sliding around him, her lips sucking hard.

He moaned loudly, his muscles tensing as he pictured her lips moving along his length, sucking him in deep and moaning around him.

"Fuck!" he growled, and clenched his jaw.

...DM#HG...

A low moan escaped Hermione's lips as she slid her fingers lower, pressing against her entrance, then slowly pushing inside. She pumped her fingers deeper, pressing against the cluster of nerves along her inside wall, the heel of her hand hitting her clit with every pump. She imagined that they were his fingers. Imagined him pushing her thighs wider, his tongue sliding through her core, him groaning at how wet she was.

She flexed her legs, planting her feet on bed and arched her back, moaning his name as she began to thrust her fingers harder. Her free hand tweaked her nipple, pinching and twisting, tugging hard, picturing his teeth biting down around the hard peak. She imagined him moving over her, his lips on her neck, the warm weight of his body pressing down on her as he slipped into her, filling her up. His cock would be long and thick, he would stretch her and fill her, and they would fit together perfectly.

She would hear his voice close to her ear, telling her how tight her pussy was, how hard he was going to make her come, that she'd be screaming his name.

"Draco." She whispered and began to shake with burning anticipation.

...DM#HG...

Draco was right on the edge, his strokes almost frantic as his fantasy grew; Hermione's head bobbing faster and faster, sucking him hard and fast, pulling him deep into her throat. He thumbed the head of his cock on each stroke. It would be her hot, wet tongue teasing him, her swollen lips dragging torturously along his entire length.

He slowed his hand and stroked himself, long and slow, gripping tightly. The image in his head of Hermione on her knees, water showering down her naked body, her own hand between her thighs, had him spiralling. He groaned at the vision in his head and began pumping himself harder and harder until her moaned out her name. Stream after stream of hot fluid poured over his hand and into the waterfall of water from the shower.

He braced his arms against the wall, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He stood for several minutes, the warm water washing over him, his mind racing. Should he feel guilty for jerking off with fantasy Hermione? He didn't think so. He hadn't come that hard ever, and it was she - or at least the fantasy version - that had made it happen.

He switched the water off, and towelled himself dry. He flopped naked onto the bed, knowing full well he'd wake at some stage during the night with a raging hard-on and fantasy Hermione would have to come to his rescue.

...DM#HG...

Hermione was beyond stimulated. She had worked herself into a frenzy with her fingers and her hips began to rock faster. She was chanting his name inside her head, her breaths panting and heavy. Imaginary Draco's cock was pumping hard and fast into her, setting a quick pace that had sweat blooming on her skin. She felt her spine tingle, a heated pleasure pooling between her thighs. Her orgasm was building. Her jaw dropped open and she whimpered, biting down on her bottom lip.

She imagined Draco holding her arms above her head, moving faster and faster, fucking into her at a frantic pace. There would be no love making here, only hard, fast fucking, just how she loved it. And he would know, without asking her, he would just know. He would be amazing at this; he would know how to exactly how pleasure her, how to make her body sing, how to make her scream his name in ecstasy.

She was so fucking close, so fucking wet. She clenched with anticipation, her skin began to tingle all over, as her orgasm hit her, shattering her apart and she cried out his name. Her entire body spasmed and shook and a flood of heated fluid coated her fingers. She gasped for air as she stilled her hand, sliding it from her wet core and resting her damp fingers on her belly.

Her body felt boneless having just experienced one of the most earth shattering orgasms of her life. And it was just the image of him that had done it. She sighed, pulling the covers over her, thinking that the next time that happened she might actually allow him to be involved.

Despite her attempt to ease the ache that had been a constant since Draco Malfoy had walked into her life and turned it upside down, she'd been restless, tossing and turning the entire night and now, when she'd only just managed to fall into a deep sleep, the insistent buzzing of her 5.30 alarm pulled her from the most perfect dream - floating on clouds with a certain hot blonde, who was gloriously naked and, thanks to her subconscious, incredibly built and he was doing things to her that were indescribable and even in her sleep were making her blush. She woke with her heart pounding in her chest, a heat between her thighs, and the desire for Draco's body to be pressed against hers.

Hermione groaned and stretched her arms above her head, arching her back pulling out the kinks from her body that came with her restless night. She rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and stretching again. She peered at her phone, and saw three new message notifications. The first from Ginny, asking when they need to go underwear shopping with a winking face and one from Pansy asking her to say good morning to Draco for her, both causing her to roll her eyes. The last message had her pleasantly surprised: a smiley face text from him. No message, just the face. It had made her smile, and she assumed that was the desired effect. She had wanted to send something back, but chose not to. Instead she dragged on her running gear, tying her sneakers and plugging her ear buds into her ears. She pulled the beanie Molly had knitted on her head and headed out the door for her daily run, hoping to remove the excess sexual frustration that she hadn't quite rid herself of the previous night.

She started out slow, as she did every morning, warming her body, her legs, before stepping it up and finding her stride. The town was hers this early, no other person was awake, and the streets were empty making it easy to believe she was the only person on the planet. Her run playlist would have surprised most people; heavy metal and hardcore punk were her preferred choice when she hit the road. Charlie, Ginny's older brother had introduced her to them in her teenage years, and she found that it was the only music that made it easy to run, the pounding rhythms matching her stride, the screaming voices drowning out the thoughts that regularly clouded her brain.

And today it was no different. Twenty minutes into the first circuit of the town her head was empty, no thoughts of blonde teachers and their sons. it was one of the reasons why she ran; to clear her head. The pounding music and the steady rhythm of her feet were the only things she was aware of. She'd considered buying a treadmill especially for winter, which was now fairly well established. But the cool air filling her lungs and stinging her face made her feel alive. Gloves and her knitted beanie were sufficient enough to keep her warm, but both were usually removed by the time she'd arrived back home.

She'd taken up running about a year after her parent's accident, discovering that the solitude and complete freedom of the roads were the two things that gave her mind the most clarity. She had no desire to be a professional athlete or run marathons; she simply loved the solo aspect, the sheer willpower of her own self to push through the pain, and the cold, and muscle exhaustion, and just run.

She lengthened her stride, her legs finally warming and loosening, stretching in front of her as she weaved her way through the vacant streets. She reached the edge of town for the second time and looped her way back again, surprised to see the familiar blonde hair of her favourite English teacher fifty meters ahead of her. Unlike herself he was dressed more appropriately for a cold winter run than she was; a long sleeved athletic t-shirt and tight running pants. Everyone thought her crazy, but she preferred short leggings that only covered her from hip to mid-calf, and while in the winter months she would wear a lightweight jacket, she still only had a singlet on underneath – winter was her season. The cold didn't bother her at all.

Hermione couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face, but his arse was, well, it was incredible, and she could certainly get used to the rear view. She smiled, but didn't increase her pace to catch him. She enjoyed her morning run on her own, but was pleased that she no longer had the streets of Grimsby entirely to herself.

She was watching the clock. 7.54 am. She felt her heart speed up and she hoped he didn't come in. She wasn't sure she could hide last night from her friends if he did, her face would give everything away. But she couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him.

She'd come home from her run - which was supposed to rid her of her frustrations – but after seeing Draco, she was more pent up than when she left. The sight of him running had churned up all those feelings that she almost rid herself of the previous night. She removed her running clothes grimacing at the dirty, sweaty garments and made her way into the bathroom. She stepped inside the shower and sighed at the sensation of the warm water against the ache of her overexerted muscles. She'd pushed herself harder and run two extra miles in the hope the sheer exhaustion would remove him from her thoughts. She closed her eyes which turned out to be a mistake; all she could see was him. Her hand headed slowly south and she hummed softly when her fingers teased her clit. She leaned her free hand against the wall of the shower holding up herself up while she brought herself to that blissful edge; all the images from her fantasies from the previous night flooded back into her head, naked Draco all around her. Hermione let out a soft cry; her head thrown back, mouth open into a pleasured smile.

What she was completely unaware of was that across town Draco was in his own shower, after having seen her running in her tight shorts, and was moaning her name and ridding himself of his own frustrations.

The morning rush had started early and was in full swing, Pansy and Ginny had no choice but to let up on their constant harassment of her. The interrogation of her dinner with Draco and Scorpius had begun the second they'd walked through the door. She simply told them it was fun and Draco was an amazing chef, and that was it. Of course they hadn't believed her and wanted more.

She'd moved away from the counter, Ginny and Pansy made a formidable team; effortlessly serving customers, knowing what the regulars wanted and having it ready for them as they walked through the door. Hermione was happy keep out of their way, having been snapped at by both of them on numerous occasions for disturbing their routine. But today she was glad for the distance. She was confused by her own feelings on the Draco issue, and she didn't need their constant questions.

She was lost in her own thoughts, completely unaware that he had arrived and was watching her. It wasn't until he was only a few steps away from her that she realised he was actually there, the smell of his cologne was unmistakable. She turned and there he was, smiling at her, making her already racing heart beat faster.

"Hey," he said grinning at her, "Did you sleep well?"

She twisted her mouth into a smile, "Hey yourself. And no, I did not."

He raised his eyebrows at her, "Really? Why ever not?

"I'm fairly certain that you already know the answer to that."

He stepped closer to her and her eyes flicked to Ginny and Pansy, who were watching them closely as they continued to placate the regular customers with coffee and muffins. "And what did you do about it?" his face was smug.

Her eyes flicked to his groin, "Probably the same as you," her own smile was as smug as his.

"Hmm, interesting," He shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean; I simply went for an extra long run this morning."

"I know, I saw you." She said and his face was surprised, "Your arse looks good in tight running pants."

"I'm so glad you approve," Draco laughed, "You didn't think to say hi?"

"No, the mornings are mine. I run alone." She said shaking her head, "Where was Scorpius this morning?"

"Noted and Mrs McGonagall watches him early two mornings a week so I can run," he explained, "So, are you busy on Saturday?"

His question surprised her, "Um, no. Why?"

"Well, Ginny and Harry have agreed to watch Scorp, so I can take you out. Dinner and movie, if you will."

"Are you asking me on a date Mr Malfoy?" she grinned at him, "A pre-emptive date?"

"Pre-emptive?" he frowned.

"When did you organise Ginny and Harry?"

"Oh, that," he laughed, "I may have organised them before last night's dinner. Before my son asked you to dinner."

"He won't be jealous?"

"He's already excited about staying with James, so I don't think it will be a problem," Draco said, "Besides, I saw you first, so it's too bad if he is. So, Saturday night?" he asked.

"Saturday night would be perfect," she said and bit her bottom lip.

Draco's stomach burned with arousal. He wanted to kiss those lips, wanted to slide his tongue into her mouth and taste her again. A smirk pulled at his mouth, and he watched her eyes flick across his face, settling on his own lips and he realised she wanted to kiss him as much he wanted to kiss her.

He stepped closer, leaving barely an inch between them and tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to look at his, "Perfect," he said and surprised her by kissing her. It was quick, just a simple press of lips but it had her breath catching. It also had Pansy and Ginny almost toppling over the counter. Hermione laughed, which had Draco frowning. She pointed out their audience and he grinned.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said, kissing her again, lingering slightly knowing that Pansy and Ginny would be watching. Hermione grinned as he waved at them and gave them a cheerful good-bye as he walked out the door.

"Hermione?" Pansy called twenty minutes later, "You can stop hiding now."

She'd stayed in the back of the shop, avoiding them both. The morning rush was well over, but she knew she couldn't avoid them much longer.

"I'm not hiding," she told them, "I'm working. I'm well aware that neither of you know the difference."

"Looks like hiding to me." Pansy told her, earning a laugh from Ginny, "So are you going to fill us in on whatever that was?"

Hermione shrugged a shoulder, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't try to be cute," Pansy said, "You don't get kissed in public like that if there's nothing going on."

"Like what?"

"Like he does it every day," Ginny said, "Nothing steamy or raunchy or inappropriate, just a simple everyday kiss."

Hermione looked between the two, both were grinning at her, "Come on Hermione!" Pansy cried, "Are you at least going to tell us something? He see's you every morning, probably calls you every night, then he kisses you like that, and you're not going to tell us one tiny little thing about last night?"

Hermione looked at them both thoughtfully, and then sighed, "Honestly, there's really nothing to tell. We had dinner with his son, and after Scorpius went to bed, we made out like teenagers on the couch and then I went home."

Pansy slapped her arm, "Two hours we've been here and you're just telling us this now!?"

"Close your mouth Ginny, it's very unbecoming." Hermione said, tapping Ginny lightly on the chin, her face smug.

Ginny sputtered, "You didn't think you should have lead with that piece of information? You sly little hussy!"

"I wasn't going to tell you at all. But I figured it would be the only thing that would shut you both up."

"So is this something serious, or is it just groiny?"Ginny asked.

"Groiny? Really?" Hermione scrunched up her nose, "And I have no idea if it's serious."

"He's asked you out again, yeah?" Pansy asked, "And you said yes?" Hermione nodded, "Well, that smile he's put on your face tells me that you think it's more than groiny but not quite serious ...not yet anyway."

Hermione twisted her mouth into a grimace; her friends knew her all too well. These two women knew as much about her as she knew of herself. When it all ended with Oliver - as is always the way with hindsight she knew it inevitably would - they never left her side for days. In fact one night, a week after he had left and she had almost completely collapsed inside herself, the two spent the night with her, shared her bed, hugging her in the way that only best friends could.

"I don't know what this is, I truly don't," she told them.

"Hey, he's not Oliver," Pansy said, "And he's into you, seriously into you. A guy doesn't just kiss you like that, in front of everyone not caring who sees, if he's not into you. You should stop overanalysing this and just go with it."

Pansy was right, he was not Oliver. Not by a long shot. But she couldn't be certain that that wouldn't change. She had thought Oliver was the one. The one she would spend the rest of her life with; the one who looked at her and only saw her, and didn't care about the rest of it. But apparently she was wrong, so very wrong. She and Oliver had been dating for five months before she handed him a set of keys to her flat, which led to him staying there most nights. He moved in not long after and it had been amazing, exactly what she'd grown up around; a relationship that, while both parties were almost polar opposites, just fit. He had proposed to her after six months of living together and they were married eight months later. And then over the course of the next year she watched as the doubt crept in and the conversations became stilted and the sex became quiet and the arguments became loud. And then the reality set in and after a year marriage he moved out and straight into the arms of another woman.

And the disappointment and heartbreak moved in. And it had taken months to heal.

And now there was Draco.

Hermione had never been the girl who obsessed over a man before, but that was definitely what she seemed to be doing. Draco wasn't only amazingly attractive, he was incredibly nice. And the obsession had thrown her for a loop. She was reluctant to get involved with him after Oliver, she barely knew Draco, but there was something about him, something that she couldn't quite explain. Something that felt familiar, that felt right and she'd only known him for six weeks.

She looked at both her friends, who were watching her expectantly, and the reality of everything seemed to hit her in that moment. Draco made her feel so amazingly good. It was as simple as that. It was time for her to grow a spine and stop thinking that all the men out there would break her heart. She needed to stop apologizing for herself, to stop blaming herself and take a chance, and if it turned out to be another man walking away from her, then so be it. There was no reason she couldn't enjoy life, and maybe casual sex with Draco was just what she needed.

"You're right," she finally admitted, "I do like him and this could be something or it might just be sex. I guess I'll never know if I keep holding back."