Hermione preferred working out during the day. The gym was usually empty in the afternoon, since most of the Aurors took advantage of the training room either at the beginning or end of their shift; it gave her space to think. Heart pumping, muscles burning, and music blasting in her headphones, she felt at peace as she completed another round of bench dips and moved to abdominal crunches.

She had spent far too much of her time behind a desk since the start of this project, and her body needed this as much as her mind did. In a few short months, the project would be over, and she'd be back on the floor with the rest of her team. It was critical that her body was in peak physical condition at all times. There were still far too many Dark Wizards she needed to take off the streets.

Hermione wondered what Draco did to work out. It was clear he did: his forearms were toned, and she just knew that his chest and abs were chiselled as well. He wasn't bulky, like some wizards, and he seemed to be built almost entirely of lean muscle. She'd guess that he probably did a fair amount of cardio, mixed with a healthy weight training regimen. He clearly wasn't neglecting—

She slammed the door on those thoughts.

There were plenty of attractive, single wizards and witches with far less baggage than Draco Malfoy. The problem was, the pull she felt towards him was becoming nearly irresistible. It would be much easier to resist if it was just a physical attraction, but he was smart too — he'd been the only other student who could come close to her marks at Hogwarts. She respected his ability to understand her work on predictive analytics and appreciated his ideas. Reluctantly, she admitted she was developing feelings for her former nemesis. As much as she tried to fight it, he kept worming his way into her thoughts.

Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes, as she began the next exercise in the circuit: jump rope. A flash of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. As if her thoughts had summoned him, Draco had somehow materialised in the training room and was leaning against a pull-up bar. Immediately losing her focus, the jump rope snapped against her shins like a whip. She pulled her headphones off.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out, chest heaving.

"Potter said I might find you down here, but I didn't want to interrupt your rep, and you wouldn't have heard me anyway," he drawled, pointing at his ears and smirking.

Hermione cursed herself for not bringing speakers; she didn't mind sharing the training space, but she hadn't been expecting someone, especially him, to sneak up on her like that. Now, he was standing there, looking like he had just walked off the cover of Witch Weekly, while she stood in her sports bra and joggers, panting and dripping with sweat.

An awkward silence stretched between them.

"So… did you need something?" she asked, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm. At least her breathing had evened out.

His eyes flicked down and then back up to her face before he cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I just wanted to let you know that we finally received the reports from St. Mungo's."

"Finally!" she exclaimed. They'd been waiting for notes on patients who had been treated for potion overdose or abuse over the last three years. There had been no end of red tape they'd had to wade through, even though they hadn't asked for personally identifiable information. "I've got another 20 minutes to get a proper workout in and then I'll head up. I don't want to get rusty and turn into a desk jockey."

Abandoning her circuit, Hermione grabbed her water bottle and tilted her head back to drink deeply, taking several large gulps. A flicker of something unrecognisable flashed in his eyes as he watched her, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. Suddenly aware of how much skin she was showing, she turned her back to him and attempted to mop up some of the sweat with her towel. Draco still hadn't moved towards the door.

"Do you need a duelling partner? I can't imagine those put up much of a fight," he offered, nodding towards the training dummies in the corner.

Hermione paused, considering. "You're not exactly dressed for it," she replied, torn between accepting his offer (he was a decent duellist) and telling him to bugger off.

He shrugged out of his robes, placing them on a nearby bench before he began working the knot of his tie loose. Transfixed, she watched his fingers as they tugged the tie free and undid the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the rest of his neck and a delicious sliver of his chest. Hermione's mouth went dry, and she shook herself — she'd been staring again. When her eyes met Draco's, he was smirking; he had definitely caught her.

"Ready." He didn't move, waiting for her to lead the way. "Unless you're worried…" he taunted.

She let out an affronted scoff, pulling out her wand as she stalked to the duelling mat. "The only thing I'm worried about, Malfoy, is you throwing a fit when your hair gets ruined." It was weak, and she cringed internally when she said it, but her mind was drawing a blank and she'd had to say something.

Grinning darkly at her, he took his position on the mat, falling into a practised defensive position. "You'd have to hit me first, Granger. Don't go easy on me."

"I wasn't planning to," she said. Ignoring protocol, she fired an Expelliarmus without bowing to formally commence the duel. The spell bounced harmlessly off of a shield that she hadn't seen him cast.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. Rule 4 clearly states that combatants should follow—" He cut off as she forced him to block a stunner that she shot at his smug face. "I see you're more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of witch, huh?"

"Hardly… The wizards I'm fighting don't usually exchange pleasantries before they attack you. Or were you expecting this to be like Duelling Club? I promise you, that's not really my style anymore."

"Good, I suppose that means you don't mind if I play dirty." It was a statement, not a question.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," she quipped, before firing a rapid series of spells, attempting to batter through his Protego. It surprised her to see that it held. When she ceased her attack, Draco stood behind his shield, fully at ease, inspecting his nail beds as if her attack had hardly strained him.

"Are you just going to sit there and look pretty all day or are you actually going to fight?" she challenged.

"You think I'm pretty, Granger?" he quipped and arched an eyebrow at her.

Hermione's face reddened and her lips pressed together. "You know that's not what I meant!" she spat.

"Hmm, touched a nerve have I?" His lips tugged up into a crooked smile as he settled back into his defensive position.

Prat.

As soon as she saw the air ripple, his Protego dissipating, she attacked in a flurry. Draco deflected them, but retreated a few paces under the strength of her assault. Pressing her advantage to keep him off balance, she moved closer, giving them both less time to react.

Spells met in midair, showering them in explosions of light. She dodged to the side to avoid a Binding Jinx, ropes shooting harmlessly past her, and he ducked the Stinging Hex she sent in response. After several strenuous minutes of back and forth, Hermione slipped a stunner past his defences and Draco flipped through the air before landing on his back with a satisfying thud. She grinned in triumph and went to make sure she hadn't injured him — she'd put a touch more power behind it than was strictly necessary.

Still flat on his back, he laughed, eyes crinkling in mirth, as she approached. "Nice shot Granger. Now, please, spare my ego and at least tell me that I made you work for it."

She scoffed. "Hardly."

Eyes sparkling, he accepted the hand she extended in offering and she pulled him up. His hair was dishevelled and his cheeks flushed with exertion; there was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. It was a good look, and she felt a flutter of something low in her abdomen, which she resolutely ignored.

"One more round?" Draco panted, pushing his sleeves up.

She noticed he kept the left sleeve lower, covering his Mark.

"It's alright," she said. "You can roll them both up. You must be sweltering."

"You're sure? I didn't want to…"

Hermione nodded, her gaze lingering on the Mark as he pushed his sleeves up the rest of the way. When she pulled her eyes away, she found he was watching her with wary eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. She felt a twinge of something unpleasant, but found that listening to his explanation at the cafe had quelled her visceral reaction to it.

She kept her face neutral and moved back to her starting position. This time Draco shot an especially nasty stunner as an opening move, catching her unprepared and forcing her to leap to the side. A vicious grin slid across her face and she countered with an equally damaging, disabling spell that would have most certainly broken bones if his own spell hadn't collided with it midair. The resulting explosion of colour temporarily blinded them. Throwing up a quick shield, she felt several of Draco's spells connect — he must have closed his eyes before the collision.

It wasn't possible to hold a shield while casting offensively, and as soon as her vision returned to normal, she dove to the side to avoid being hit as she let the shield fade. Several spells streaked through the place she'd been standing. The magic continued, fast and furious. At one point, his robe flew past her face; the Accio'd apparel would have hit her squarely in the back of the head, wrapping around to obscure her vision. Luckily, she had just dodged another spell, causing the robe to miss her by a narrow margin. She hadn't even seen him cast it; he'd clearly waited until she was distracted — it was quite clever. Her chest heaved with effort as she dodged and countered, not able to find a way past his defences.

They were quite evenly matched, though Hermione was definitely quicker, and she was more used to duelling, which gave her the advantage. Just as she started to wear him down, her ankle collapsed under her and she swore, stumbling a few steps. Draco's eyes glinted, and he took advantage of the opportunity and hit her with a Stupefy before she could recover.

Hermione flew through the air, landing on her back. Slytherins… It was refreshing actually; most Aurors wouldn't have taken the shot, which frustrated her to no end. What good was practising in a sterile, controlled environment if you only ever played it safe? It drove her mad that so many Aurors were reluctant to use anything other than training spells when duelling her. She'd seen too many Aurors end up in St. Mungo's because they were out-duelled — not because they were up against someone more skilled, but because they weren't prepared for what it was really like out there.

She groaned, and Draco came rushing over to check on her, concern etched onto his face.

"Shit, Hermione are you okay? I didn't mean to—" he cut off as Hermione hooked her foot around his ankle, tripping him.

She tackled him — she was far too competitive to let him win.

She was a better duellist than he was, that much was clear, but Draco had gotten lucky and she stumbled; he'd been unable to resist taking a shot at her. Knowing there was no way in hell she was going to block, he used a Stupefy, putting just enough force into it to knock her over and no more. The spell connected and Hermione fell back, rolling to a stop a few metres from where she'd been standing. The grin slid off his face when she groaned.

He ran towards her. "Shit, Hermione are you okay? I didn't mean to— "

Rolling quickly, she hooked his foot, tripping him in a very Slytherin move. Before he knew what had happened, she was on him. Hermione straddled his hips, locking her legs beneath his thighs, and ruining any leverage he might have sought to gain. She quickly slid her left arm behind his neck, something that could be interpreted as an intimate gesture. When her shoulder connected hard with his cheek, pushing it to the side and controlling his movement, the dull pain removed any such illusions.

His brain caught up to what was happening, and he tried to push her off with his free arm, which she promptly snatched and slammed to the mat. He inhaled sharply, and heat suffused his chest. She kept her weight pressed into his face and wrist, and her legs were still hooked around his, preventing him from rolling. Draco struggled for a few moments trying to break free of her hold, and Hermione laughed, the rumbling vibration transferring to his body.

He froze, blood rushing to his groin — that sound, her weight above him, her hot breath on his neck as she held him completely at her mercy. All of it combined into a deadly potion crafted specifically for him. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He had to get out of this position before he embarrassed himself. Draco closed his eyes, trying to ignore the brush of her hair where it had come loose, her scent as it enveloped him, and the points of contact between them. Frantically, he seized on the most horrifying memory he could recall: walking in on his mother and father in the dining room. He hadn't been able to eat at that table for weeks. It did the trick. The "situation" in his pants resolved itself instantly.

Draco held very, very, still, resolutely ignoring the warm press of her body pinning him to the floor. Merlin, keep it together.

"Oh, sorry," she teased. "Did I not tell you? We duel to submission, and I don't recall saying I was done."

Fuck, that word choice is not helping matters. He bit his lower lip hard, hoping the pain would distract him, and suppressed a groan as she leaned back, bringing her weight firmly over his hips. Her chest was heaving from their duel and brief tussle, and her torso was slick with sweat. He watched, captivated, as a bead of sweat rolled down her abdomen, her taut muscles flexing slightly with each breath. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. This is a lost cause… how has she not noticed?

"That's how you end a match," Hermione gloated, with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "You should really spend more time training for physical attacks," she lectured him, oblivious. "It's something that we've added to the Auror training program since Harry took over the department a few years ago. There have been many times, in the past, when Aurors have lost their wands and been practically helpless. Over-reliance on magic can be dangerous. You were quite good with your defensive magic, though… very impressive. I don't know many people who can deflect spells like— " Hermione stopped speaking suddenly. Her cheeks reddened and her eyes widened, but she didn't move.

Please kill me. Closing his eyes tightly, he felt heat suffusing his cheeks, which were surely red with embarrassment now.

She scrambled off of him and Draco sat up, mourning the sudden absence of her weight.

"Well, anyway, I better get back to the office," she said, her voice pitched higher than usual, twisting her hands. "There's lots to do!"

"I'll catch up to you in a few minutes." His voice came out much rougher than he'd hoped it would. "I just need to catch my breath."

Tugging his shirt loose from his trousers, he brought the edge up to wipe his forehead. When he lowered the fabric, she was staring at the exposed skin of his stomach, her lower lip sucked between her teeth. It was not helping him "catch his breath."

"Hermione…" he began, not knowing how to continue the sentence.

She jumped a bit, as if snapping out of a daydream. "Okay, thanks for duelling with me, it was… I'll see you around," she said, tripping over her words a bit and darting out of the training room.

Beautiful art of this scene commissioned from IncendioSketches: meggowaffle/719294166818062336/

Sorry I don't know how to insert the pic inline on