Author's note: Hi! Anyone else a die hard fan of the movie "She devil"? Meryl Streep was and is an icon. Anyways that was the inspiration for the title of this story ;) enjoy loves!

Xoxo

Catstclaire


"Screw those misogynistic fucks, and their laundry."

Hermione hissed under her breath to herself like a mad cat.

Hermione despised little in the world outside of divination class- however the 'fun little camping trip' she was included in was getting her to learn more and more about herself as the days passed.

Her list of abhorrence was as follows in order of least hate to greatest: Professor Trewlawney, Divination and all who enjoyed it, then at the very top.

Laundry.

She hated everything about it. She hated the sickly sweet smelling soaps she had to use, and how her hands remained tacky for hours after using them. She hated the way the washing machine made the most horrendous noises as it operated. She especially hated how foul Ron's socks smelled- she ran a cycle of her own clothes just to prevent his socks from coming into contact with anything of her own.

Ron said she was the smartest one of them, and so she was the only one who could figure out the washing machine, but since it was true she was smartest she knew how utterly full of shit he was!

She had laundry duty for one simple reason. She was the only one among them who owned a Vagina.

The golden trio had been on the run for nearly 3 months now. The search for horcruxes well under way. They were hard pressed to maintain proper hygiene most days. A cleansing charm could only do so much after a while.

They had all spent the last week sleeping in the woods, and foraging for supplies to get them through until they decided to risk another run into a town. They all stunk to high heavens.

So finally they slunk into town under disillusionment charms. Secured a house that was empty of it's tenants for the evening, and allowed themselves a short reprieve. Ron and Harry almost immediately fought over who would take the first shower. She thought they'd come to blows until Malfoy stepped in.

"Weasley goes first." Malfoy had said pushing them both apart.

Harry scoffed in outrage, while Ron waved triumphantly and zipped up the stairs towards the shower.

"Why does he go first!?" Harry demanded.

"-because if he didn't Potter i'd loose what little i had for breakfast this morning."

At least Malfoy did his own laundry. Hermione sulked as she used a paper towel to pick up Ron's socks from where he left them on the floor. She wasn't offering her services up to Malfoy of course, and he certainly did not seem in any hurry to get his unmentionables into Hermione Granger's hands. The system they had going worked.

Did she mention they picked Draco Malfoy up along their way?

He'd been hiding out in his family vault at Gringotts when the trio managed to snag their first Horcrux on week 2. Malfoy took one look at the 3 of them riding dragon back, the flames engulfing the treasure chamber and he'd jumped head first to join them.

It took some getting used to at first. It was Malfoy sure. But they sure as hell would trust him over any of Voldemort's other followers. And soon enough Malfoy was even teaching them things they hadn't before known. Like the jinx on Voldemort's name or how Umbridge was keeping tabs on people at Hogwarts illegally. He brought quite a few things to the table so to speak.

According to Malfoy, given the choice between them and Voldemort they were the more likely option to get him killed, but also the only ones who he could live with joining.

Since he joined up with them Malfoy went all over with them.

It never failed though. Wherever they went in the world Hermione was not only their go to for quick fixes and research, but who Ron and Harry looked to, to clean their clothes.

Hermione sighed heavily enough Malfoy turned round and frowned at her. She headed to the basement with the stinky socks held aloft as far away from her nostrils as her arms would allow.

On their first inspection of the home they determined that there was only 1 shower, but Hermione found salvation in the form of an extra bathroom down in the basement where the laundry room was.

Thank Merlin. Fuck you Ron.

They only had the place for one night, and she was going to at least enjoy a hot shower after she tossed in the wash.

Hermione could hear Ron's shower going from overhead, and she knew Harry was likely sitting outside waiting for his turn when Ron was done.

Malfoy she guessed like he tended to do was probably grabbing a nap.

…that meant at least a hour or 2 before anyone came looking for her.

She loaded up the wash from the contents of the soiled bag she had become in charge of, and she sorted out her own things tossed them into a pile for next, then she tossed down the clothes she was even wearing in the pile since she was alone. She calculated in her head how long the cycles would take. She had plenty of time. She could relax.

She practically skipped on the way to the first hot shower she'd have in weeks.

The beading water gliding down her back felt better than anything she ever felt before.

"-yes." She tipped her head back, and let water fill her mouth. Her hair was wet and it plastered itself to her head. Her fingertips went down from her scalp to her hips, and she bit her lip as they kept going down...

Everything felt so good...

But then suddenly the washing machine beeped and startled her back into her fucked up reality. She stepped out of the shower without anything to dry herself with. She had a half formed invasive thought of shoving Ron's dirty socks down his throat, if he didn't just start doing her the curtesy of setting the things on fire instead of making her wash them every couple weeks.

She pulled the clothes from the washer and transferred them to the dryer. She was pleased that for once everything actually smelled rather clean. Even those heinous socks seemed to smell less like death and more like summer violets.

Hermione smacked the start button after she loaded her own things into the wash for the next cycle. Then fuck- probably she should have done her own clothes first- footsteps came from down the hall.

There wasn't even a tea towel to cover herself with...

Someone was about to catch her entirely nude.

Harry would probably snort or sigh at the sight of her without clothes. Certainly something Hermione would construe as offensive.

Ron would just stare. She'd probably have to deck him in the face to get him to look away.

If it was Malfoy coming down the hall-

Merlin.

Hermione felt her body as it turned red hot at the mere thought of the lifetime of embarrassment Hermione was sure to get if Malfoy should find her like this.

The door groaned as it was slid just a crack open- sheer horror and panic had her jumping on the top of the washing machine and sitting cross legged as she cast a disillusionment charm on herself.

Not Malfoy. Please not Malfoy.

She hoped whichever of them it was, would come in, see the room empty and leave.

Because fate was unkind it was Draco Malfoy that opened the door. She held her breath when his head poked around the side of the door and scanned the room.

"Granger?" He called as his eyes looked around the room for her. Her heart rate kicked up as he roved right over her without seeming to have any idea she was there. "You still in here?"

He closed the door behind himself, and opened the bathroom door even to ensure she wasn't there either. After a few seconds he looked satisfied that she wasn't in the room. He opened the washer, and messed about.

If someone had told her last year that this was where she would be... sitting stark naked atop a washing machine right under Draco Malfoy's nose as he did laundry... well Hermione would ring up St. Mungo's and ask if they had a spare bed.

It's fine. She told herself. Malfoy was organized, and obsessively methodical when he did his clothes. He always did his washing when Hermione wasn't around, and she respected that he was a private per-

Sweat slid down her forehead when he loaded bubblegum pink underpants into the washer. She covered her mouth with both her hands as the desperate need to burst out into laughter came to sudden fruition.

Was this why Malfoy always did his own laundry? Hermione knew just from looking at his underclothes what he had done to them. He'd used one to many cleansing charms on them in a row. When you did that you got that pepto pink color.

Hermione smirked as he continued on and added his detergent. She planned to grab whatever clothes her hands came into contact with first when he was done and out of the room. She didn't even care if they were sopping wet.

Then Malfoy's hand went down his front and the rip of metal hit the air. He undid his fly, and kicked his pants off. More pink underpants. Her mouth hung open, and she swallowed thickly. It was impossible. She couldn't pull her eyes away. His shirt went next, and then he scooped them all together and tossed them in the washer with the rest of his things. The machine swayed as he slammed shut the door. Draco Malfoy was as naked as she was standing a foot in front of her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Oh Fuck!

She closed her eyes shut tightly- no, this is not real. She popped her eyes open- Fuck! He was still there in all his naked glory.

Malfoy sighed, and leaned with his back against the machine. She leaned back instantly, just barely half an inch away from his body and hers making contact.

He tensed for a moment and Hermione thought she had been made, perhaps from her breathing or something, but then he shook his head and turned round so he was facing her. He sighed again.

Dammit when was he leaving!?

Malfoy stared through her at the wall behind her head, and she couldn't help but get lost in the silver of his eyes. They were so pale, but bright, and lovely at the same time. He looked more Narcissa than he did Lucius, and Hermione had always thought him handsome.

He looked lost, and sad. Hermione nearly reached her hand out to him to comfort him.

Another sigh, and Malfoy leaned forward on his elbows to quick for her to retreat anymore, and Hermione went rigid as he yelped. His head rested into her lap, and her concentration broke on the charm. She was visible again.

His wide silver eyes met hers.

"Granger!"

It was a split second that his eyes left hers and scanned her body up and down, but then his eyes were back on hers.

"I can explain-" she fumbled, and grabbed his shoulder when she thought he might repel back on instinct.

He glanced at her hand on his shoulder, and it lingered longer than Hermione thought was proper. One of his hands skated up to her hand where they were touching, and he rubbed her skin gently- carefully like he was testing it.

His hand quickly explored more terrain. She groaned when he slid his fingertips across her bare back.

She didn't mean to but she squealed. Fast as lightning he pulled her legs apart, and around his hips as she was still atop the washing machine. Hot heat came from where they were pressed against each other, and it was disorienting, and pleasurable all in one.

He cupped her breasts and she mewled against his neck. She writhed against him. Then his fingers wandered and dug harshly into her hip bones, and he chanted her name as he ground against her. He rocked back and fourth in some sort of a rhythm.

"You feel so good." He mumbled into her hair, and the heat in her most private area kicked up at least 10 notches.

He was hard. So hard. She bit her lip.

The primal urge to let him take her right there on the washing machine was unreal. She felt his stomach with her fingertips and his muscles rippled as she leant in to chastely kiss his chest.

Beeeep!

Frick. The cycle finished. They both sprung apart. Hermione jumped off the washer, and grabbed the first thing her fingers touched inside the dryer. Harry's old quidditch jersey. She pulled it over her head fast, and didn't even entertain the thought of caring about the laundry (screw Ron's socks) as she attempted to flee.

Malfoy snagged her by the wrist before she could get away.

"Granger." He seemed unsure of what he wanted to say even as he drew her closer. She felt her eyes go wide once more, and he grinned down at her. "Later?" He asked. Her lashes fluttered. "Meet me here, later?" He clarified.

She nodded slowly as a small smile found her lips. "Yeah." Her stomach dipped, and she felt like she was walking through clouds as she left the room. "Later." She had promised.