Archive of Our Own

“You’re taking the piss.” 

Snarling at the man across the desk, Draco gripped the frayed edges of his Auror robes. Sure, he’d missed a few days here and there to take a holiday and maybe his reports hadn’t been up to par as of late. But what Scarhead suggested was utterly absurd. He couldn’t possibly be serious.

“I’m not, Malfoy,” Potter deadpanned, steepling his fingers in front of his face, elbows firmly planted on the desk. Worry lines pulled taunt over his forehead as Draco shoved his chair back to stand. 

“This is absolute rubbish and you know it.” 

Three steps one way and three the other, Draco began pacing and focused on his breathing, not the framed photos lining the walls. 

Theo and The Four-Eyed Git’s wedding.
Their pinning ceremony.
A Christmas at…The Burrow?

That’s something we should discuss.

Leaning back, completely relaxed, Potter continued to observe. “Is it?”

Halting in the clearly defined path already pressed into the carpet, the swish of Draco's robes whispered as he pivoted to face the other wizard. “What?!”

Potter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Malfoy, you’re Deputy Head.”

“I seem to be missing your point.”

Holding up a fist, Potter slowly plucked one finger out. 

“Your paperwork has been shite.”

Another finger. 

“Your work ethic is a joke.” 

And then another.

“And half the time you’re here, you look like you’d rather be in a fight with a bloody Hippogriff.”

Draco scowled at the list of grievances, specifically the low blow of that terrible moment from their third year. “Hey…” 

“Too soon?” The man tried to hide his smirk, hand covering his mouth. 

Draco huffed. “It will always be too soon.”

“Listen…” Potter began, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk once more. “Part of being my second in command…”

Draco gripped the back of the closest chair in an attempt to ground himself in this outlandish moment. “I should be first.” 

“That’s beside the point,” Potter tried to assert his dominance, grappling for some semblance of control. “In your position, you're meant to set an example. And frankly, it’s been total bollocks lately.”

“So Kingsley’s solution is to stick me with a pup?” 

A pale eyebrow raised with the tilt of his chin, eyes sweeping across the paperwork strewn over the surface of Potter's desk for a sneak peek at the file he knew was the baggage now assigned to him.

Exasperated, Potter asked, “Must you call the first-year Aurors that?” 

“They’re children,” Draco drawled with an eye roll. “Immature. Messy. Rowdy. What else would you have me call them?”

“Preferably? Their names.”

A scoff slipped past Draco's lips, fingers running through already tousled waves as he sank back into his chair. “Well, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Look, it’s only for her first year; then she’s on her own.” Potter lifted one of the papers, presumably the one with her test scores, examining it thoroughly. “And hopefully, your head is back on straight by then.”

“My head…”

“Muggle saying, Malfoy. Merlin.”

“This is an odd form of torture, and I won’t take that back.” He tried to steal another glance when Potter lowered the paper, but it seemed some sort of privacy charm was cast to keep onlookers from seeing the information.

“Fine.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hermione Granger.” 

Sliding the folder across the desk, Draco grabbed it, the stiffness of the manilla bending under his too-firm, too-annoyed grasp. The first thing he noticed was the photo paper clipped to the front. Narrowing his eyes with scrutiny, he sat back in the rigid, uncomfortable chair.

Really should replace these.

Everything about the young Auror screamed swot. The lift of her chin in defiance of the photographer. The thinly pressed lips that refused to give a smile. Yet, there was a softness in her unruly curls that framed her petite face and a smattering of freckles over her button-like nose. Bright brown eyes that almost shimmered with a hint of…

Snap out of it.

“She’s fresh out of the academy,” Potter offered, watching Draco over the rim of his glasses shuffle through the other papers in the file. 

“So she’s twenty-one. Salazar, mate. This isn’t a mentorship; it’s a babysitting job!”

Draco had more important things to do than watch over a first year. This meant routine calls and boring reports of minor misdemeanors. There goes any heavy investigation work in the near future. Resentment began to coil deep within. She’d hold him back. 

Potter pointed to the papers Draco held. “Highest rankings, intelligent, mature.”

“I’m ten years her senior.” He skimmed the marks and notes littering the tests and evaluations. “I fucking swear if you take me off the Nott case…”

“It’s not like you're looking to date her,” Potter reminded him as he opened another drawer, riffling around for what Draco assumed was his packet of biscuits. “And, of course not. It’s a prime case for Auror Granger to obtain substantial hands-on training.”

Even with the Second Wizarding War well over, Death Eaters were still at large. Groups organizing and making their rounds to old pureblood homes to terrorize their occupants. Setting up traps and leaving dark artifacts in their wake to maim or kill when the resident refused to join their ranks. Over the last few months, this had occurred at Theo’s ancestral home more than once. 

Luckily, Theo and Potter spent most of their time at Grimmauld Place, but were known to occasionally spend a week or two at the Nott manor on holiday. The wards continued to alert the Aurors to suspicious activity, but the culprits hadn’t been caught yet.

“Obviously not. I mean, look at her…” He waved the photo in front of Lightning Bolt Boy’s face. “How far is her wand shoved up her arse…”

A knock on the door interrupted the pair, both glancing up to find the subject of their conversation glaring at them—a shoulder propped against the frame and arms folded over her chest challengingly. 

The curls splaying over her shoulders in the photo were pinned atop her head in a messy bun, stray spirals tucked behind her ears. There was a flush to her cheeks from some sort of exertion. The color covered her face and cascaded down her neck to her exposed collarbone. 

“Charming,” she droned, pushing herself from the door and taking two steps inside the office. Her tone matched the hardness of her features in the photo: perturbed with an air of arrogance. “Tell me, do you make it a habit to speak of your other subordinates this way?”

Knew she’d be a bloody swot.

Potter gulped loudly enough that Draco twitched at the sound. Both pushed away from their chairs to stand as his colleague fumbled over his words. 

“M-M-Ms. Granger.”

“Hermione is fine,” she corrected, refusing to move from her spot. 

Draco ignored the other wizard’s apologies, the words fading into the back of his mind as he took the rest of her in. Because that's what Aurors do, right? They observe. Tracing the outline of her collarbone, he followed the path up the column of her neck, her vein pulsing rapidly.

High heart rate.

Her v-neck jumper clung to her body, hugging her waist and pushing her breasts together. Draco licked his lips, eyes trailing down to the skin-tight pants that matched her top. The material accentuated every curve and muscle of her lower half and was entirely too inappropriate for the workplace. Combat boots were laced up to her calves and tapped impatiently in response to Potter’s half-arsed apology.

But that wasn’t even the most alluring part. Strapped tightly around her upper thigh rested a leather wand holster. His mouth became a desert, and he briefly wondered if she wore the garment at all times. Her fingers twitched against the vinewood incessantly as Potter spoke. 

Draco was both mesmerized and annoyed by her overly confident presence in the office. 

This will be fun.

“Mr. Potter, I simply wanted to introduce myself after hearing I was assigned to work with Deputy Head Malfoy,” the girl continued, eyes cutting to his, ultimately catching him in the act of sizing her up. 

His gaze flickered to hers for a moment, heat flooding her cheeks before deterring back to Potter. Her lips moved with finesse, but Draco was too distracted to make out what she said.

She had freckles everywhere, like millions of constellations.
Her jawline.
Nose.
Cheeks.

“Yes, yes, please forgive us for our poor conversation,” the wanker explained, trying to mend the bridge he’d severed already and the girl hadn’t even had her first day. 

There was only one thing left to do, other than apologize, which One Spell Wonderboy already did enough for both of them. Taking the two steps necessary to cross the room, he stood before her, extending his hand—a peace offering.

“Draco Malfoy.”

She pursed her lips as she did her own examination. Almond eyes raked over his face, pausing at his glare and then his lips before roving over his form, clearly unimpressed. Tilting her neck to glance up at him, she finally clasped their hands together in a handshake. 

“Hermione Granger. I look forward to learning from you.”

Learning.
How professional.

“That makes one of us,” he responded, a sneer tugging on his lips. 

Her eyes narrowed, and at that moment, Draco noticed the flecks of gold that shimmered under the office’s fluorescent lighting. He waited to see if she’d respond to his snide remark. The wheel of thoughts rotated under the bush of hair she had until she quirked one eyebrow up, a response finally formulated.

“Such a shame you see this as an inconvenience instead of an equal opportunity.” 

Taking a step back, he made sure to make a show of himself studying her appearance, and although it was more so to make her squirm, there was something about her overly exuded confidence that called to him.  

“Here’s our first lesson, Granger…” The rustle of fabric broke his trance as she shifted on her heel in anticipation. Clearing his throat, Draco finally said, “When in the office, be sure to wear your robes.”

That did it. A fire sparked, surging and tightening every feature of her appearance as if ready for war. “Are you shaming my clothing, Deputy Head?”

“I assure you I am not. The robes are part of your uniform.”

His words doused the impending inferno, and her shoulders slumped and throat bobbed, clearly embarrassed by the misunderstanding. 

“Not that I owe you an explanation for what I decided to put on my body, but I was in the simulation room, training. ” There was a growl to her words as she finished, tempting him to retaliate. 

This is going to be fun. 

“See that you keep your robes on hand at all times. I believe you were taught a shrinking charm that will accommodate that purpose,” he clipped, clasping his hands behind his back. “Look forward to working with you.” 

He didn’t mean it. How could he? She was inexperienced and clearly cocky. Draco was sure he’d spend more time breaking down whatever built-up ego she gained from schooling to understand how this position actually worked.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she snarled with a sickeningly sweet tone to cover her disdain. The only sign being the slight flare of her nostrils, giving her displeasure away.

Dipping his head to her, Draco brushed past, excusing himself to his office. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she returned.

_________________________

“Ginny, he’s the worst,” Hermione whined, downing the remainder of her firewhiskey in one gulp. 

It’d been four months to the day since their meeting. One hundred and twenty days of Draco Fucking Malfoy bossing her around and critiquing her every damn move. She couldn’t even write a report to his standard regardless that she’d gotten the highest marks on everything! He was doing it on purpose. She just knew it. 

Stupid, nimble, ringed fingers scratching over parchment as that deep, baritone voice reprimanded her for each detail. She hadn’t decided if it was annoying or enticing yet. 

‘Learn to abbreviate.’
‘If it doesn’t apply, don’t fill it out.’
‘Must I get you a private tutor to teach you how to have better handwriting?’

Everything about him was obscene, from his chiseled features resembling that of a Greek god to the perfectly styled blond strands that fell over his porcelain skin. Even how he dressed was distracting, and she knew it was done intentionally to throw her off balance. 

His robes fit too precisely to his broad frame. And then there were the days he wore glasses, looking absolutely obtuse and stupid. It wasn’t fair that someone so fucking entitled and insufferable could look like that.

Shaking her head clear of her thoughts barreling around, Hermione signaled the bartender for another drink as Ginny snickered into hers. “Are you sure you aren’t just being well… you ?”

Her lip curled up in defense, clearly offended by the question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re just very… precise and organized.” The redhead took another swig of her drink, her strands swaying with the exaggerated gesture. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Ugh, you sound like him. ” Hermione flipped her curls over her shoulder, taking a deep breath to relax some of the rigidness staking claim over her body. “He constantly tells me I need to pull the wand from my arse.”

Ginny snorted with a hiss to follow as the burn from alcohol invaded her nostrils. “I mean…”

Hermione slid the glass from her friend, downing the remaining liquor before slamming it down in frustration. “He’s always cutting corners, does the bare minimum paperwork, and hardly follows protocol.”

Ginny threw her hand over her heart with an exaggerated gasp, the low lighting reflecting a playful glint in her brown eyes. “Not the protocol.”

Hermione sneered again. “Don’t be a bitch.”

“Don't be a swot.”

Hermione deflated at the word. Her entire life, she’d been called that — a know-it-all, a priss. “Yes, just like everyone always says. Lovely.”

“Well, what would you like me to say?” Ginny quirked an eyebrow, taking notice of the switch in her demeanor. “Yes, Hermione, he's an absolute pompous git out to get you.”

“THANK YOU!” she exclaimed, reaching for the newly refreshed whiskey. But, before she could wrap her fingers around the tumbler, a familiar buzzing sounded in her pocket, pulling a groan of dismay from her mouth.

“It sounds like you have a cru–what is it?”

“He’s summoning me.” Grunting like a petulant child losing time on the playground, she tossed her wand on the bar’s surface before tucking her head into her folded arms. “For the record, I certainly do NOT have a crush on my boss.”

“And?”

“This is my time!” she shrieked, although it was muffled with her head buried.

“That’s nonexistent in your first year as an Auror.”

A swish of wind coasted over the back of her neck, a sign of a newcomer entering the quaint establishment. Lifting her head, she reached for her bag, rummaging for her coin purse to pay the tab.

“Granger,” the familiar tone called right behind her. The sound of her name floated over her spine, sending shivers down her back. Her entire body tensed in reaction before a subtle fire began to grow. 

How dare he just show up here like I'm a toddler who can’t follow instructions!

“Are you serious?!” she whirled around, curls in disarray, to find Malfoy at full height, mercurial eyes pinning her to the barstool. The golden buttons of his robes reflected prisms as he shifted back and forth impatiently. The navy material fit disgustingly well over his arms and chest, causing her breath to hitch.

Something twisted in her gut akin to attraction or annoyance. She wasn’t sure which as he glared at her, indifference painted over his sharpened features. “There’s been a call about suspicious activity near the Nott Manor. They want us to check it out.”

“I got the alert, Deputy Head.” She punctuated each word, turning back to rifle through her bag for a sober-up. “I was on my way.”

“Best we arrive together, rookie.” The clink of a vial sounded, and she pivoted her attention to the clear liquid glittering under the ambient lighting. 

Sober-up.
Ugh.
Bastard.

With a scoff, she lifted the slim beaker to examine the potion, feigning uncertainty at its safety. “I’m not drunk.”

“Better safe than sorry. Besides, it’s part of protocol.” He smirked. “I know how much you love following those.”

Hermione turned to her friend with a scowl, but Ginny was too busy oogling the blond wizard to notice. Her fingers toyed with the ends of her ginger tendrils, a sly smile painted over her lips as she drank the wizard in. The girl’s thoughts were so loud that the entire bar could probably guess them.

He’s so fit.
I would climb him like a tree.
Fuck his brains out.

Lost to the cause, Hermione mumbled under her breath as she tugged her cardigan on. “Prick.”

“Is that any way to speak to your superior, pup?” 

Of course, he heard me.

“How clever, referring to me like an animal.” 

She stood, hands smoothing out the wrinkles of her clothing while trying to ignore the heat of intensity she felt from Malfoy’s stare. It was a constant thing. The way he regarded her so openly under observation. Like he was trying to figure her out the way one would a rune. 

The silver in his eyes darkened just enough for her to notice as she met his gaze. “I find it adorable.”

He was goading her, trying to get a rise with his pestering. The way he flip-flopped between light teasing and authoritative scrutiny gave her whiplash and, frankly, confused the fuck out of her. Did the man like her or despise her? Not that it mattered. He was her boss.

“I’m sure you do.” Tossing the vial back, she shivered with the bitter aftertaste of the potion as it entered her bloodstream, eliminating any remnants of alcohol. “Let's get this over with.”

Her chest curved inward as his eyes trailed down her figure. Suddenly, she felt like an exhibit behind glass with how he looked her up and down before asking, “Do you have…erm… have a change of clothes?” 

Hermione glanced down at the sundress she wore with tennis shoes. “Um… no. I didn’t anticipate having to leave in the middle of my plans.”

His eyebrows pinched together in apparent frustration as his lips turned downward. “I thought I told you months ago to keep your robes with you.”

“Write me up later, Malfoy. Let's go.” She pushed past him to the exit, the sound of his dragonhide boots clicking behind her. 

***

The pair dropped right outside the wards of Nott Manor. Her trainers sunk into the dampened soil, rooting her to the spot. A crunch of a branch told her that Malfoy had landed a few yards away. The fresh scent of washed linens invaded her nostrils from the wizard, her only indication in the darkened forest that he was near. 

Quickly setting to work and following the exact process taught in the academy, Hermione lifted the hem of her dress to retrieve her wand from the holster wrapped around her thigh. Turning to ensure Malfoy was also doing his part, she found the silver eyes illuminated from the beams of moonlight transfixed on her exposed skin. 

A warmth spread over her chest at the flicker of want in his eyes. It wasn’t like she was stupid. On the contrary, the man drove her absolutely bonkers, but he was like a divine piece of art crafted for her viewing pleasure. Surely a faint blush covered her cheeks, but undetectable. 

Thank gods it’s dark out here.

“Did you do the detection spell?” she hissed in a whisper. It was clear he hadn’t been too distracted by whatever he was trying to work out in front of him, but she was uncomfortable and needed him to do something before she made a foolish decision.

Malfoy blinked a few times, regaining his focus to stare at her.

 “I…” He swallowed. “No. You do it. It’s good practice.”

“Very well.”

Casting the spell towards the manor, the red glow of a map appeared before them. Sure enough, in the middle of the bottom floor were figures moving around. The two leaned forward, looking over the structure for any other figures but saw none. They were inches apart, and she could feel his breath gliding over her knuckles as she flipped the map with a swish of her wrist.

“Alright, this is fairly easy,” Malfoy said. “You’ll take this side,” his finger circled the west entrance, brushing her hand in passing.  “And I'll go here.” He gestured towards the east side. “This way, we close them in and apprehend the pair quickly.” 

She gave a curt nod, ignoring the electricity sparking between the two at their proximity. Then, without further instruction, Hermione cast a disillusionment charm over her body and sprinted toward the ancestral home. 

As she entered, an eeriness overcame her, seeping in and covering every inch of her body. The dark magic rippled over the atmosphere of the welcome parlor she stood in. Theo Nott, Jr. had taken several precautions not to be recruited for the New Age Death Eaters, but that wouldn’t stop them from infiltrating his home and torturing him into an agreement. 

Lucky for him, the Department had taken several extreme measures to protect the Head Auror’s husband. He currently remained at Grimmauld Place with round-the-clock protection everywhere he went. Whoever broke in was clearly unaware of this and must have assumed the older gentleman was still on holiday.

When the click of her shoe ricocheted off the marble and stone pillars, she threw up a silencing charm. The last thing she needed was to be discovered. While the detection spell had shown two figures, she knew the likelihood of it just being that was low. She conjured the map of the house, once more confirming the intruders were just down the side hallway to the left. She could see Draco’s dot coming in from the opposite direction, just as he had planned.

Remembering what she was taught, she moved with agile precision, wand at the ready, down the creepy hallway.

Honestly, can’t these purebloods do something to liven these spaces up?

“Once we trap him…” one of the voices floated into her line of hearing as she inched closer to the large room. 

Shuffling.
Murmured spells.
A clang of something that sounded expensive. 

“Fuck, Goyle, be careful,” another snapped under their breath. 

Coming into view, she could see the two Death Eaters fiddling with a trinket. One was tall and lanky, towering over the shorter, portly man. Their wands twisted in circles, likely cursing the item with some hex to harm Mr. Nott. Glowing hues of red and purple swirled around the object, embedding it with an unfamiliar mantra Hermione hadn’t heard before.

Without wasting any time, she lifted her wand. “Stupefy!”

The red light bolted from the tip, barreling towards the unnamed culprit. By the time Goyle realized what was happening, his partner crumpled to the ground. Suddenly, nonverbal spells erupted from his wand in her direction. A combination of green and blue struck over the atmosphere like lightning. Though he couldn’t see her, the threat was there and he was blindly aiming to take it out.

Hermione attempted to block and counter the spells as they came, but it was too much. His relentless attack had her backed into the wall, frames of prior Nott men on either side of her. Losing concentration, the disillusionment fell, revealing herself. Completely thrown off course, her training disintegrated as she remained frozen to the spot, disabled by fear.

“Incarcerous!” he bellowed, ropes wrapping around her body to keep her in place. Like a snake stalking its prey before striking, he took calculated steps toward her. 

Where the fuck is Malfoy?
Where is he?
What the…

“Well…well…well…” the older gentleman tsked, his breath heavy with whiskey. Hermione gripped her wand at her side, running through the possible scenarios of how to reprimand the man. Her wandless magic wasn’t perfect, but it might could do the job. Even with the ropes confining her, there had to be a way. 

 “What do we have here?” The tip of his wand dug under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Speak.”

“Auror Granger, you’re hereby…” Her voice quivered, the fear taking root and grounding her to the spot. 

He laughed boisterously, his finger trailing down the thick ropes. “You’re gonna take me into custody?” 

Think Hermione.
Think.
Fuck.

His fingers suddenly replaced the wand at her neck, constricting her airway. “I’d like to see you try.” The part of his lips revealed his tongue as it rolled to form the words she knew were coming. Hermione closed her eyes, pinching her lids tightly until she saw stars.

He’s going to kill me. 
He’s going to kill me.
He’s going to kill me.

“You know, Goyle,” the familiar voice wavered. 

Malfoy.
Malfoy.
Malfoy.

“I thought I taught you in Hogwarts we weren’t supposed to touch what isn’t ours.” 

Opening her eyes, she saw her partner a few feet away, wand twirling through his fingers nonchalantly as if he had all the time in the world. He wore a smirk that matched one of victory, yet she remained bound. 

Loosening his grip, the cloaked wizard turned to face him. “Ah, look, the blood traitor.”

Hermione sucked in a gulp of air, nearly choking on the sudden abundance of it, but still, Goyle’s grasp remained. Malfoy moved from his position, still fiddling with his wand like a toy. The glow of the moon illuminated his features revealing a shadow of dirt over his sharp cheekbone and a small nick on his bottom lip. Blood dripped from the tiny incision, trailing down his chin.

As she suspected, there were more Death Eaters than the map showed. No wonder it took him longer to get here. She really needed to take time to figure out the bug in the spell so this wouldn’t happen again. Catching his attention, their eyes met. Mercury, hard and set with determination, bore into her, making the witch feel about the size of a pixie. 

Of course, he’s angry. 
Fuck, I’m going to get in so much trouble after this.

Goyle released her to block the first spell Malfoy threw. Air barreled into her lungs to make up for what it lacked. She gasped, using the small window to murmur the spell to release the ropes. Clutching her throat to recover instantly as the binds fell, her knees buckled in. She thought the Death Eater would notice her freedom, but Goyle was too preoccupied with Malfoy.

“We’ve also been taught to take what we want, Draco.” He stepped towards the wizard, evidently ready for a duel, but Hermione was quicker. 

With his back turned, she hit him with a stunner, his body elegantly toppling over. 

___________________________

“You were almost killed!” he roared across the expanse of his office. 

Fury building with each step he took back and forth. The image of the younger witch bound and helpless burned into his memory. Her pleading eyes scrambled for any semblance of help he could offer.  

Now that same witch sat, head in her hands, as he moved mindlessly in front of her, refusing to look at him. It infuriated him even more. Like a broken record, the image played over and over, piercing his memory. She was his responsibility, his to teach, his to care for. 

His.

“Well, I wasn’t,” she grumbled through her hands.

Her complete disregard for her life or what had transpired propelled his anger further. He slammed the stone paperweight onto his desk, the frames and trinkets rattling.

“Even without me, you should have been able to take them both down in one swoop. What happened?”

Still, she didn’t move. “I… I was following protocol.”

Granger was brilliant; he’d seen her reprimand lower criminals in Knockturn Alley the past four months and be two steps ahead of everyone. Yet, even if she was strictly by the book, her confidence always won out. Thoughts spun from her statement. 

“What protocol?”

“You said we were to corner them. If I tried to take them both down simultaneously, I would’ve been over my head.” 

She still wouldn’t look at him, and with each second that passed, it equally irritated and concerned him—aggravated that she had been so careless and worried over her wellbeing. Yet, she gave no reaction.

In the end, his agitation won. “What is the academy even teaching you people?!”

This got her attention. Curls whipped up as her head snapped to look at him with ire blazing in her pupils as her lips pursed with anger. “Excuse me?! I was top of my class!”

“Yeah, and you got a lot to show for it.” 

His fist balled, clenching until the skin pulled taut over his knuckles with frustration. He was goading her. He knew it. For all that ego inside that petite body, there was a fire, raging and burning with fury to be the best and show up anyone in her way. 

He knew it.
She knew it.
He just had to get her to show it.  

Come on, Granger. 
Care.

“I knew what I was doing!”

“Is that why you have fingerprint bruises on your neck now, Granger?!” 

Instinctively, her palm grasped at the marks, the muttering of a glamour charm washing over the skin to make it appear as if nothing happened.

“He could’ve killed you.” He glared at the faint purplish-blue marks slowly disappearing down the juncture of her neck and he swallowed. 

“I had it handled,” she fought back, refusing to back down as she finally stood from the chair and took the three steps to get to him. 

She stared up at him, sparks of gold igniting in her eyes as the lines on her forehead deepened with anguish. 

“You might be top of your class Granger, but you are not ready for the field like I thought.” 

He matched her glower, refusing to break eye contact. Their chests threatened to brush against the other with each inhale. There was a tug at his abdomen, but he couldn’t figure out if it was nausea from lack of food or desire.

Before he could decide, her finger pierced the cotton of his shirt in defiance.

 “I am! I did everything right!” 

It felt like the tip of a knife probing him as her single digit dug into his chest, jolts of something he’d never felt before coursing through the scars that littered his skin.

Draco clasped her wrist and she froze, stare widening in shock. Whether from touching him or him touching her, he couldn’t be sure. The air thickened between them. With each tick of the clock in the background, it reached toward its peak, waiting to shatter with one wrong move. He extracted the offensive finger from his person, eyes never leaving hers. 

“It takes an amount of intuition to be in the field and act on pure instincts and not a written list of what to do.” 

He let her hand go, the appendage falling to her side. Her chest was heaving now, struggling for breath before her tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

Blood rushed south, the exact thing he didn’t need to happen. Ripping himself away from the closeness of their bodies, he stalked back to his desk and conjured a calendar. Scribbling a note, he turned to look at her. “For the next three months, you and I will do additional training beginning next week.”

“I don’t need—”

Draco held his hand up to stop her. Her teeth clicked with the snapping of her mouth. Suddenly the thought of shutting her up a different way drifted through his mind. Letting out a ragged cough, he continued, ignoring the growing erection in his trousers. 

“We all need training to continually better ourselves,” he cut her off with a finality in his tone. “See you next week.” And with that, the charmed parchment flew through the air to her with the details of their next meeting.

***

Upon entering the simulation room, Draco noted the space was empty. With a triumph in his step, he moved to get comfortable. Discarding his robes neatly on the spare table in the corner, ringed fingers ran down the sleeves of his crisp oxford before folding the fabric up. His wand holster hung snugly over his abdomen, the leather straps fitted precisely for optimal flexibility while in the field. He slipped the knives fitted on either side from their hold and tossed them on the wooden surface, the additional security unnecessary now. 

Figured I’d beat her here, guess there’s a first for everything. 

Summoning the targets with a flick of his wrist, the large dummies began to file in, each holding the self-projecting box—an invention he and Potter created years ago to help with training. It allowed the Aurors to practice fighting on their feet. Each dummy throwing a spell out at random for the person to deflect, counter, or shield from—all non-lethal, of course. 

Should the trainee fail and get hit with the spell, the charms on it were set to release the person within thirty seconds. He turned one on, watching the spell barrel from the box as he side-stepped it. 

Before another could release, the scent of a rose garden permeated the air, signaling the arrival of Granger. Turning to greet her, his mouth went dry. It was like she wanted to purposely torture him in her skin-tight poor excuse of muggle pants. The fabric clung to her body, stretching naturally to accommodate her curves. 

He wanted to peel the material from her hips with his teeth, nipping and sucking the patches of skin that led to that seductive cunt. It was a cruel joke the gods played on him, teasing him with forbidden fruit he could never sink himself into. 

Oh, fucking hell.
You’re her superior.
Superior.
Boss.
Off-limits.

“Malfoy.”

The image of the young Auror spread open and bared to him on the nearby table, begging for his cock, shattered at her calling. He pulled on the collar of his shirt, the draft from the air conditioning skating over his thrumming pulse for relief as he tried to concentrate on the task. 

“Where are your robes, Granger?” He managed to grit out, distracting himself from the way her breasts moved subtly with her breathing. 

Allowing his gaze to shift further down, he landed on the leather holster wrapped around her supple thigh. The vinewood was positioned flush against her leg and moved intrinsically with each step.

“I’m not wearing those while training; they’re too heavy.” Her voice carried through the thick fog of his mind, but Draco’s brain had blown a fuse, unable to rip his attention from the straps of leather woven over her leg.

“W-W-What…” 

She tilted her head in confusion as he tried to finish his sentence. Following his gaze down, he noted the rosy hue that splashed over her cheeks. “Oh, they’re yoga pants. Flexible.”

Flexible.
Flexible.
Flexible.

I bet you’re fucking flexible. 
Bend you over… 

Draco coughed, dispelling the inappropriate thoughts. “Right.”

“Range of motion is important when dueling.” She rolled her shoulders, exuding every bit of confidence she could muster up, waiting for him to criticize something, anything.

Are we really talking about the logistics of dueling?

“Yes, I suppose.” Giving a curt nod, Draco moved towards the large marked ‘X’s’ on the floor. “So… should we…” 

Draco clenched his teeth in time with his fist as her scent wafted into his nostrils, cascading into his veins as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She was his personal hell and he hated her for it. A scowl appeared on his face, deepening as the young woman continued to unknowingly entice him. 

The way she moved with assurance even when she struggled with basics. 
The eagerness rolled off her in waves at the prospect of learning.
Her incessant need to follow instructions, striving for perfection. 

“What are those?” Her head leaned towards the dummies positioned on the other side of the room.

Strands of blond fanned over his forehead as he shook his head of the stupid bloody thoughts. “Target practice.”

“That seems fairly simple.” Without waiting for his instruction, she moved towards the spot on the floor, indicating where to stand.

Draco took a position next to her, inches between them. Her magic sparked in his vicinity, but he chalked it up to nerves in anticipation of what she’d learn today. “It’s designed to cast different hexes and curses. Non-lethal, of course, and it’s your job to block, counter, or dissipate. It’s meant to help you think on your feet and trust your magic to guide you.”

“And if I fail?” The witch’s legs widened into a dueling stance, preparation for the first spell to barrel towards her. Determination set in the lines of her face as she pulled her focus tight on the dummy ahead.

“It lasts for thirty seconds and then you are released.”

“Brilliant.”

Taking a step back to merely observe her at first, he gave a flick of his wrist for the dummies to begin. It started easy, simple disarming charms that she quickly avoided and threw off, increasing in complexity as they progressed. 

She moved stiffly at first, unsure which way to shield herself, second-guessing each time. Draco made a mental note before allowing his focus to drift towards her luscious arse, plump and round with the material molded to it. He imagined how perfect it’d look with his handprint painted across the olive complexion. 

“Shite.”

The one word broke his concentration, flicking his focus back. Granger took her missteps with pride, shaking off a stinging hex that caught her in the leg because she miscalculated where to throw her shield. The pull of brows told him she concentrated too much on the practical side of magic—the semantics instead of trusting her gut. 

She slashed her wand through the air, missing her point, and the ropes from the incarcerous twisted around her body for a few seconds. 

“FUCK!” she yelled, exasperated, before the confines dissolved. Brushing herself off, she came to stand, ready for the next one. 

Draco threw his hand up, halting the exercise and strolled forward.

“What are you doing?” Of course, she was ready for a fight, tone dripping with malice as he approached her. 

He stopped behind her, twirling his index finger in a circle, indicating that she needed to face the front again. “Helping you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Her rigid stance tensed more as his chest brushed her back, the tendrils of her hair tickling his jawline. 

“I beg to differ.” He ignored the scoff that left her lips and imagined the snarl that now adorned her features.  

One hand cemented to her hip, pulling it out just an inch. Her breath hitched at his touch, goosebumps scattering over her neck while his other intertwined with her wand hand. “Focus on the dummy,” he instructed.

Her shoulders lifted up and down rapidly as she tried to breathe, and Draco noticed. Moving his hand to her shoulder, he rolled them down her spine. “You’re entirely too stiff. Relax.”

The tightness began to soften under his touch. Trust and vulnerability exuded at the thought of being seen and heard washed over her body as she rolled her neck from one side to the next. She leaned against his chest, a tingle flitting straight to his cock. 

“Like this?” It was sickeningly sweet how her voice dripped like honey in search of validation. From him. 

Yes.
Fuck.
No.
This is wrong.
She’s your subordinate.
Focus mate.

“You think too much, Granger,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, a shiver vibrating into his heart cavity from her body. “Turn that beautiful brain of yours off and let your magic guide you.”

He twisted her hand just an inch, warmth encapsulating him like a summer day as the dummy yelled another stinging jinx at the pair. The light exploded from the makeshift machine and hurled towards them.

“Follow your magic, Granger,” he encouraged. He let his hand fall back to her hip, tightening his grip in preparation for the hex to hit them.

“Protego!” she shouted, the thin blue shield cascading around them just in time that the jinx bounced off and dissolved into the air, thickening the growing tension. 

“Perfect,” Draco muttered, too distracted by her curls reaching and wrapping around his throat, threatening to break every damn rule in their Ministry handbook about interpersonal relationships. 

His resolve wavered the longer he stood there with one hand plastered to her hip and his other wrapped around her own. He wanted to throw her on the ground and bury himself in her until she was a sobbing mess writhing under him and pleading for more. Or maybe press her against the wall and fuck up into her golden cunt.  

Granger turned her head, caramel flakes sparking under his praise, and it took everything in Draco not to crash his lips against hers. As if she knew his thought, her tongue darted out to lick those tantalizing lips, and for a brief second, her eyes flitted downward to his mouth. 

“You’re an excellent teacher,” she whispered, tiny pants escaping her mouth as she brought her attention back. 

Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.
Don’t do it.

Neither moved, caught in a trance, pushing from the pull he knew they both felt. Her lashes fluttered, a sign she wanted this; she wanted him. Then, just as he decided to say fuck it all and lean towards her, an encompassing amount of pain shot through his leg, and he yelped, jumping away from the witch. 

Both immersed in the other, they failed to notice that the next dummy had sent its jinx.

“How many of those bloody things give stinging jinxes?!” she scowled, rubbing her calf from the intrusion. 

“It’s at random,” he hissed, running his hand over the red spot on his thigh with irritation at the lost moment and pain. 

Draco was in trouble.

____________________________

“Our insider says they plan to attack tonight, around 9 p.m.” 

Head Auror Potter conjured a glowing map of the large estate with tiny dots to represent each member in the mission. Hermione’s fingers tapped against her navy trousers. It was that or fiddle with the cuff of her blouse to distract her from the chill creeping up her neck from Malfoy’s eyes.  

Watching her.
Examining her. 

A pinch stung through the fabric as she dug her nails into her thigh, squirming from his subtle attention. 

What does he fucking want from me?

It was infuriating, this game he played of hot and cold over the last three months. Incessant training sessions where he pushed and pushed until she was on the verge of frustrated tears or incredibly turned on. The prior week he’d knocked her down with a spell, hovering his lips close to her jawline as he told her exactly where she misstepped in their duel. 

And then, the next day, he barely looked at her. He pretended she was fucking disillusioned when they gave status reports on the Nott Manor operation and discarded any suggestion she provided while simultaneously expecting her to know the correct answer to every question he had. 

It was exhausting.
Yet, intoxicating.

A game of cat and mouse. Their roles reversible depending on the day. 

Today, he’d left her coffee in her cubicle; a note scrawled over the flimsy cup stated she looked beat from their session. Training the night before ended late, with her pinned against a pillar as he instructed her closely on how to handle close-contact combat. 

Chills of lust prickled her skin when she thought of his body pressed against hers, the rigid muscles of his abdomen cementing her in place while his palm skimmed the dip of her waist. Silver eyes darkened to black, and for a brief second, she thought she felt the outline of his…

No.
Couldn’t be.

But before she could decode the rising tension, he blinked away the storm and ripped himself away from her. A chill ran down her entire front at the loss of his warmth and she swallowed a groan when he stated it was time to call the session. 

Hot today?

She met his gaze only for the man to narrow his eyes at her in what Hermione only could determine was disgust. 

Okay… not hot. Cold.

What was he fighting against? She knew it was herself when she asked the same question. He was technically her boss, and more times than not, a feeling of rage stirred within at his arrogant stance and holier-than-thou attitude. 

And people call me a swot.

“Did you get that, Auror Granger?” 

She pulled her attention to Head Auror Potter, eyebrows raised expectantly and arms folded over his chest. Waiting. 

Clearing her throat, Hermione sat up straighter and steepled her fingers. “I’m sorry about that, sir. I—”

“You and Malfoy will join the team tonight for the raid,” he cut her off, the need to finish this brief evident in his tight and clipped answers.

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” 

Gathering her hair, she twisted it to perch on top of her head. Really, she just had nerves creating excess energy and fidgeting was her number one way to combat those. She’d fucked up the last mission and now had to go on another in the very same spot. It wouldn’t just be her and Malfoy, though. What if something else happened? 

Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.

“I’ll see you all later this evening,” he dismissed the group.

Scenarios and anxiety ran rampant in her mind as Hermione gathered her belongings. 

“Looks like we can see you put that new training into work.”

His tone was light and teasing, playfulness rolling off him like the waves of an ocean, barreling into her already unsteady legs. Hermione stuck her quill into the makeshift bun without sparing him a second glance before grabbing her coffee.

“Oh, fuck off.”

The smirk he must adorn was clear in his voice. “Pup’s got bite today.”

She didn’t have time for this. Hermione needed to prepare and ensure she was ready for this mission and his antagonizing comments weren’t helping. A stray curl glided over her cheek as she whipped around to face him. 

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. Just want to make sure you’re ready.” His arm lifted and she watched as his fingers inched closer to her face, the conference room now empty beside them. 

“Obviously, I am.” 

She looked around, anywhere, but at his face as heat skidded over her cheekbone to catch the rouge curl between his fingers. Her throat constricted at the act, her heartbeat climbing the rollercoaster he’d set her on. 

Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.

“You’re overconfidence fucked you up last time, Granger.”

Tucking the tendril behind her ear, Hermione resisted the urge to lean into the touch and instead released the breath she didn’t realize she held captive. With a shaky gulp, she finally met his glare. 

“I’ll be fine.”

***

I’m not fine.
I’m not fine.
I’m not fine.

The start of the raid went off perfectly. Everyone was in place, moving strategically through the manor. But that didn't change the number of Death Eaters against them seemed to multiply as the seconds passed.

The Aurors continued calling for backup as explosions echoed through the ancestral hallways and rooms. The cloaked figures were relentless, casting in all directions. Reds and purples lit the darkness of the estate like fireworks. Hermione threw up a shield just in time to keep rocks from crumbling on top of her amid a duel.

“Granger!” Malfoy yelled from across the room, spell after spell pouring from his wand in retaliation. “Remember, let your magic guide you!”

Throwing a binding curse at a masked figure, she ducked as a green light whizzed past her ear.

Easy to say when we’re in a calm, cool environment, fucking prat.

He’d set her up for failure. No damn simulation could’ve prepared her for this. Utter mass destruction surrounded her and continued to pile like bricks on a house. Another roar of killing curses echoed, and she pivoted her shield for protection just in time for the light to bounce off, raining over the shimmering barrier.

Throwing a stunner, the Death Eater crumpled to the ground and she bound him quickly before moving on. The sticky substance of blood trickled down her chin, droplets staining the marble floors from her busted lip.

Let my magic guide me. 
Real great advice in the middle…
A purple light shot through the darkness.
She deflected.
Fucking hell.

“Granger, behind you!”

She whirled around at Malfoy’s voice just in time to block another killing curse and sent a stunner in response. 

“Why are they all trying to kill me!?” she grumbled, binding the Death Eater with one swish of her wand. 

“Granger!”

She whipped her head to Malfoy calling her. “Wha—SHITE!” 

A pillar crumbled before her, large rocks threatening to crush her. She reached for her wand, letting the magic course through her veins as her shield projected, but she was too late. 

The thud of a rock knocking her head vibrated in her ear and the surrounding world went black.

__________________________

Draco stared at the witch in the hospital bed, watching her chest’s slow rise and fall with each breath she took. The healers did their best to clean her up, but once she opened that insufferably pretty little mouth, the split on her lip would reopen. When and not if, because she would undoubtedly speak. The young Auror never knew when to shut up. 

“Malfoy, the healers said she was going to be fine.” Potter hovered in the doorway, shoulder leaning into the frame.

“I know.”

“So why don’t you go home?”

“Why don’t you mind your business, Potter?” 

Deflection was something Draco was good at because the question was valid. Why didn’t he go home? Why didn’t he just write his report and follow up with her in the morning once she was released? Granger shuffled under the sheets, a whispered groan slipping from her lips and he stilled in anticipation that she would wake soon.

Better she be knocked out from a bloody rock than a mysterious curse.

“Malfoy…”

“Would you want to wake up alone, mate?” 

He could hear the strain in his voice, knowing exactly how it felt to have no one. Granted, she wasn’t by herself. The girl’s emergency contact had already stopped by, but conceded when she realized Draco wouldn’t give up his seat.

“How depressing,” the gravelly voice choked out. His eyes widened and he turned to look at the source of the sentence.

He was right. Blood trickled down her chin as soon as she opened her swotty mouth. With swift movements, he stood and brought the tissue to wipe the liquid from her skin. His gaze flickered up to find her mouth hung half open, brown eyes wide in surprise… or fear? Draco was unsure which. 

“Welcome back, rookie,” he joked with a shaky laugh, the caramel flecks in her eyes softening. Her throat bobbed with a swallow and he felt the urge to lean down to press his lips to it in search of comfort. 

Tension rose as he flexed his fingers at his side, their stare never disconnecting until she placed her hand atop his to transfer the tissue from his grasp. He released it with a nod, sitting back down in his chair.

“That’s a nice look for you, old man,” she teased, tilting her chin toward the bruise blooming over his cheekbone.

“Cheeky coming from the witch that couldn’t shield herself from rocks.”

Her eyes rolled in time with the scoff that slipped past her literal bloody lips. Lips he wanted to crush his own against and take every bit of reverence from before showing her how to truly lean into her magic with his head between her legs, those petite fingers clinging to him. He shifted slightly in his seat to adjust his now growing erection. 

Potter cleared his throat, breaking the moment as he glared at Draco. He ignored the impending questions those dark and raising eyebrows asked. It was none of his business, and frankly, Draco was tired of fighting it. 

“Did…we…” she coughed, voice rasped from sleep. “Did we get everyone?”

“Yes, Ms. Granger. Everyone’s been placed into custody and we’ve begun questioning. In fact, Malfoy and I…”

Oh no, the fuck he is not.

He knew precisely where the git was going with this and there was no way he was leaving Granger’s side. She was assigned to him, after all. It was his duty to ensure she was taken care of.

“I’m going to escort Granger home,” he interjected before Potter could finish his sentence, eyebrows pulled together in a fury at his coworker. 

“Ms. Granger doesn’t need a babysitter, Malfoy.” 

His tone was curt and on the edge of daring, but Draco didn’t care. He wasn’t going back to question the Death Eaters. There were enough Aurors at the department to help with that.

“I thought she was assigned to work with me…”

“Ms. Granger is right here,” she said, cutting the conversation off. “I don’t need an escort. Malfoy, it's fine.”

Leave it to her to be defiant even after being pummeled with debris. He should've known she’d resist his assistance, but the faint blush creeping along her jaw and down her neck suggested otherwise.

“You were knocked out by a rock,” he deadpanned, stating the obvious of why she shouldn’t be left unattended.

“Do I have a concussion?”

The know-it-all tone was back in her voice, calculating his words and thinking of arguments to counter his points with. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath before responding.

“No. The healers cleared you to leave once you woke up,” Potter took the lead in the conversation. “Your friend Ginny, the one listed as an emergency contact?”

Granger nodded at the nuisance of a man. 

“Yes, she dropped off a change of clothes for you.”

She pushed herself up, the plain white gown sliding to hang off one shoulder, clearly too big on her smaller frame. Her cheeks flamed at the exposed skin as she hurried to push the fabric back up. “Perfect. Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“Good job out there today,” he nodded before turning his attention back to Draco. “See you back at the Ministry.

“Eventually,” he answered. 

He was making sure she got home. The girl almost got herself killed by an avalanche of boulders. It was clear she couldn’t do anything alone. 

A moment of silence passed before Granger shifted in the bed. The rustling of sheets broke his focus on the empty doorway. Fixating his stare on her, she pretended to study her surroundings, clearly uncomfortable.

One of the first things he noticed were the waves that hung over her shoulders. The healers had cut her ponytail holder from her nest of hair when she came in. Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her hair down this long, outside of the photo in her file. Most times the tendrils were in the process of being pulled up or already tangled into a make-shift bun. Now that he got a good glance at the strands, it was annoyingly big, yet, it looked like spools of silk.

It was a sight.
A beautiful one.

Fuck.

“Get dressed,” he instructed. “Then we’ll get you home.”

He stood to leave, allowing her some privacy to change and to adjust himself, again . The strain of his cock pressed to his trousers was becoming increasingly inconvenient. 

“I don’t need you to take me home. Merlin!”

“I won’t repeat myself, rookie.” And with that, he swept from the room to signal the healer to gather her discharge paperwork.

***

They landed with a crack outside the apartment building, a permanent scowl on Granger’s face as Draco accompanied her home. She refused to speak as they made their way up the stairs to her flat, irritated huffs and puffs with each step.

“Sore?”

A grunt was her only response. Turning away, Granger walked down the hallway to her flat. Draco followed, slipping in behind her as she opened the door.

“Malfoy!” The lines on forehead deepened and he wondered if it was from concentration or frustration. And then, Draco wondered if those lines appeared when she was on the precipice. 

“I let you bring me home. I didn’t say you could come in.”

Ignoring her, he surveyed the area. It looked like she worked round the clock with the untidiness overflowing from each room. With a flick of his wrist, the stray cups and plates vanished from all over her flat to the sink for cleaning. 

“Knowing your luck, you’ll stumble into a counter and pass out.”

He ignored the agitated groan she let out and the sound of her feet stomping toward what he assumed was the kitchen. Most likely to disarm the cleaning spell he began. 

“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself!” 

He let a few moments pass before she rounded the corner, lips pursed and shooting daggers at him. Now that she was back, he decided to answer lest she thought he had given up on the debate. 

“You sure like to argue like one.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me.” 

He stood his ground, feet planted like a sticking charm had been cast. She turned, her petite body moving towards him, an ire sparking in her eyes to match the one at the ends of her hair.

“I am not a child!” 

She began to crowd him, and he willingly gave in, his arousal growing with each step he took back until he was flat against the wall. He looked down, her entire face and neck flushed from his goading while he continued to turn himself on. This is what he wanted. 

To get her to fight.
Rile her up. 

“Sure, you aren’t,” he smirked as the warmth of her body cloaked him, sending his nerves into a tizzy at her closeness. 

“I am first in my class.”

Her breath skated over his chin, her shoulders tensing as she waited for his retort. Draco had every intention of arguing with her. She’d already gotten to a place of irritation. He just had to make the right move. He was tired of fighting this pulsing need between them.

“So you’ve said.”

Her breasts brushed against his chest,  her heaving erratic, and a tingling sensation rippled over his pectorals and down to his groin.

“Highest scores.”

He hummed his acknowledgement.

“UGH!” 

Checkmate.

She shoved him, the force barely moving him, but he was focused on the warmth that shot out over his chest from her touch. He chuckled at her feeble attempt, the corners of her mouth pulling down into a frown as her eyebrows tightened even more.

“You are an arsehole, Draco Malfoy!”

The sound of his full name falling from her lips charmed his cock instantly. A light switched on and every nerve ending in his body illuminated in response. Her hand lifted to push him again, but this time, Draco wrapped his fingers around the delicate joint.

His touch affected her, a gasp lingering between the two as she zeroed in on his hand clasping her wrist. 

Cheeks painted with a blush.
Golden eyes dilated to black.
Heavy pants.

Whatever had been building between the two strained with urgency to break free. To flow without adversity or obstacle, and before Draco could close the distance, Granger reached up, wrapping her hand around his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers.

He was sure his brain short-circuited at the feel of her lips pillowing his, moving in a clash of teeth and unbalance, before he returned to reality. 

Hermione Granger was kissing him.
Hermione Granger was kissing him and he was standing there like a damn imp.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, cupping her face. Skimming his hands over her cheeks, his fingers tangled into her curls, tugging her back for better access. She moaned at the action, her hold tightening as she anchored her body to his. Weathering the storm of passion that began to swirl between them. 

Draco nipped at her lip, relishing in the metallic taste of blood as he requested entrance. She deviated from his mouth, sucking and nipping at the thin skin of his jaw as Draco leaned forward, cupping her arse and lifting her. On instinct, her ankles locked around his waist in time with her arms. 

An orchestra of noises sunk into his ears as she explored him with her tongue and hands before Draco pulled her lips back to his, a whimper vibrating into his mouth. 

“Fucking death of me, pup,” he mumbled, breaking their kiss to trail affections down to her collarbone; his fingers dug into the fabric of her… fuck not these thin, sorry excuse of trousers, again. “Damn tights…”

The witch mewled as her head fell back at his words. “They’re…” she tried to speak but struggled as he ground his clothed erection against her. “Yoga pants,” she finished.

“A form of torture is what they are,” he answered, fisting her curls to elicit a hiss from Granger. 

She tasted of sweat and fire, remnants of their earlier mission lingering on her skin, as he continued to map her neck and chest with his tongue alone. 

“You’re torture,” she countered, more breathy than he imagined she wanted to be. 

Her hips ground into him, his cock achingly hard with each movement. He let out a groan, his lips vibrating over her body. 

“Me?” 

Draco pressed her into the wall for support, one hand skimming the waistband of what she called her yoga pants.

“Yes– oh god ,” she sighed as his fingers dipped to run over the gusset of her knickers. 

“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grinned into her neck as he felt the evidence of her arousal through the thin material. 

With a buck of her hips, Draco pressed her deeper into the wall, his resolve waning with each rotation of her body. “You’re being a brat.”

“And you’re a tease,” she responded, nibbling at his earlobe. “Hot one day…OH!” she moaned. His finger had now pulled back the lacy fabric and sunk into her heat. “Cold the… fuck, th-th-the next.”

“Didn’t know what you wanted,” Draco admitted. 

One palm held her in place while his other began to pump slowly in and out, lewd noises filling the space. Writhing in his hold, his grip tightened, pressing crescent-shaped moons through the spandex material.

Swiping his thumb over her clit, the witch cried out, overly sensitive with need. “Already so fucking desperate for my cock, Granger?”

“You,” she purred, correcting him. Draco’s teeth scraped over her shoulder, imprints left along her olive skin. “I want you. Now.”

“Bedroom?” He applied pressure to her clit, his tempo never faltering as she squirmed to find the right angle. Without notice, her hands grappled for stability in his strands, tugging and pulling with each pump of his finger. 

“Do-do-door at— fuck— end of the hallway,” she moaned, dropping her hands to his chest to fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he stumbled down the narrow hall.

Wasting no time, he kicked the barrier open, stepping over the stray articles of clothing on the floor to her unmade bed. He dropped her onto the mattress, a slight bounce as her body made contact and she giggled. His shirt slid from his shoulders and he watched as her eyes darkened further, roving over him like a prized possession. 

“Strip,” he commanded, hunger and lust in full drive now. 

His cock throbbed under his trousers, begging for release as she scooted to the edge of the bed. Laying back, she lifted her hips to roll the stretchy fabric down her thighs, revealing her lacy knickers.

She averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed like she’d already planned this. “I…I need to do laundry,” she stumbled over her words, confidence quickly dissolving.

None of that.

He stepped before her, hooking his index finger under her chin to pull her focus to him. “You’re perfect.”

She smiled shyly before gripping the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head. Her sports bra clung to her body, bruises scattered over the canvas from their mission.

“If only you listened this well outside the bedroom,” he teased, slightly pushing her back, her heartbeat radiating into his fingertips.

“But, I’m not…” she began, clearly aware that she had her undergarments on still. 

“Quiet, Granger.” 

He hovered over her, taking in the masterpiece below him. Curls sprawled like a halo as his fingers trailed over each mark that painted her body. The evidence of his mouth and his fingernails joining. She squirmed with each touch, anxious, while trying to predict his next move.

“Draco, please,” she whined, his lips confirming each cut and bruise. Splaying a hand over her abdomen, he held her in place.

“I take it back; you’re a terrible listener.” 

He pulled on her bra strap, dragging the garment up and over her head to reveal her perky breasts. Cupping both, she gasped at the cool feel of his touch against the fire of her skin. Both unmarked, he leaned forward, capturing a nipple in his mouth. 

“Fuck.”

Draco’s hand wandered further towards her cunt, his tongue swirling in circles, impatient and eager to feel her, to taste her. “I bet you’re dripping by now, your cunt desperate to be filled.”

“Yes,” she moaned as his tongue repeated its circular motions on the other side. Her head cradled into the pillows, entirely at his mercy. “For you, ju-ju-just you.”

Running a finger over the thin fabric of her knickers, completely soaked from his earlier ministrations. “Such a good little whore you are for me,” he praised, skimming his finger back and forth.

Granger’s hips bucked involuntarily at the action, cries and pleas falling from her lips. 

“I’ve shown a great deal of patience with you, rookie,” he reminded her, pulling the garments down to reveal her glistening cunt. “Now, it’s your turn to be patient and let me have my fun with you.” 

He sunk his teeth into the fleshy part of her thigh, her scream turning into mewls as he soothed the mark with soft affections as he moved closer to her center.

She preened, back arching as his finger dragged over her slit, coating it in her essence. “Can you do that for me, Hermione ?”

“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”

She chanted over and over as he plunged one finger and then another into her soaking cunt. Lewd noises filled the air as he worked her toward the edge, her muscles tensing and relaxing under his touch. Crying out, her hands fisted the bedsheets in search of purchase. 

“Draco, please, please… I’m so…” Before she could finish her sentence, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, her walls pulsing around him as he thumbed her clit rhythmically. Granger moaned, the pleasure overwhelming her senses as her first orgasm rolled through her.

She tasted divine. 
Forbidden.
His. 

“Should make you beg for it,” he growled, his tongue flicking over her bundle of nerves as she rode out the first waves of bliss. Her chest flushed as she panted, trying to catch her breath. “Maybe then you’ll learn to listen better.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “Please, more.”

“You want more?”

His lips latched to her clit, sucking and swirling over the sensitive nub.

“Yes! Fuck! ” She cried out, hips bucking into his face.

His hands fused to her hips, pressing a gentle kiss to her center; he shifted until they were face to face. Draco brought his thumb to her lip, dragging it down, blood smeared over her flesh. Leaning forward, he clasped his fingers over her throat, pulling her forehead to his. “You think you can take it, my greedy witch?”

“Yes, please,” she panted, her hands making a poor attempt at unbuckling his belt. 

Withdrawing, Draco sat up, vanishing his trousers and underwear to reveal his hardening cock. The tip was angry and red, begging to be touched. When he looked up, Granger stared as if she’d never seen anything like it, wonderment twinkling in her caramel eyes.

With a smirk, he gripped his length, slowly stroking himself as the witch below him licked her lips with certainty. “Show me you can take it. Crawl for me, baby.”

Dropping to all fours, she did as she was told, stopping when she was eye level, and looked up through her lashes expectantly for his next instructions. Draco brought the tip to her lips, smearing his precum over them. 

“Suck.”

Like the good little rookie she was, and without hesitation, she enveloped his cock, taking him fully into her mouth. He groaned, fingers gripping her hair as she began to bob her head up and down, her eyes never leaving his. 

“Such a good little whore, taking my cock so well.”

Whimpering, her lips vibrated over him, his length twitching in response. 

“You like when I say—” Her hand coddled his balls, massaging lightly. “ Fuck— things like that?”

A wet groan released as she swirled her tongue over his tip, collecting every bead that wept from his cock. 

He tightened his hold, moving her head faster as he began to fuck her mouth. He was losing control and she let him, streaks of tears running down her cheeks as he pumped into her, using her like the star pupil she craved to prove to him she was. The ways he wanted to take her ran rampant in his mind. He focused on the feel of her delectable tongue circling him and running up and down the underside of his shaft. 

“Fuck, Hermione , that’s it,” he encouraged, then hesitated as his balls tightened. The first time he painted her with his come would be inside that golden cunt of hers, not her mouth. 

He withdrew with a subtle pop and a pout followed on her face. 

“Don’t be a brat,” he reminded, her eyes gleaming excitedly as the tip of his cock traced her lips, coating them with a sheen of precum. “Now lay back.”

Eagerly she did as she was told, knees falling open, her drenched and aching core on display to him. 

Draco ran his length through her slick folds and she shuddered. “Such a perfect slag, ready to take all of me, aren’t you?” 

She nodded vigorously, bottom lip catching between her teeth as she squirmed. Her hips pushed upward in search of pleasure before he bent her knees up to her chest. 

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she rambled, her energy feral as he lined himself up. 

With one thrust, he entered with ease, her walls clenching around him like a vice before adjusting. It was glorious how quickly she accommodated him, like his cock was made to fit snugly inside her.

“Fuck, Granger, you’re so tight.”

She mewled, lips parted and blood trickled down her chin.

Pulling out to the tip, tension building with each inch, Draco slammed back into her and she shrieked at the intrusion.

“Fuck!”

Creating a relentless pace, Draco pistoned over and over into her as she cried out his name. The smell of sex permeated the room, drenching their bodies in sweat and want.

“Perfect little cocksleeve, aren’t you,” he grunted with each buck of his hips. “And all for me, isn’t that right?”

Her walls fluttered at his words, clearly enjoying how he spoke. His hand necklaced around the column of her throat as her knees pulled higher, taking him even deeper to hit just the right spot.

“Yes,” she whined. “All for you.” Her cunt gripped him, threatening to suffocate his cock as she began to crest. 

“That’s it, pup, come for me.” 

Her walls clenched then pulsed in response as a symphony of bliss fell from her lips in their own song and dance.

“Yours.”
“So good.”
“More.”
“Please.”

He leaned down, his teeth marking the juncture between her shoulder and throat as his thrusts became erratic until he reached his peak, spilling inside until she was filled to the hilt with his spent.

“Mine. Mine. Mine,” he panted, his tongue tracing the bite mark soothingly. Her hands gripped the back of his neck, nails digging into flesh to puncture as she held him to her. 

“Yours.”

Draco maneuvered their bodies until his back was flush with the headboard and her head rested on his chest. Evidence of their activities dripped down her thighs as he combed his fingers through her hair. Their bodies in sync with each heavy breath they took to steady their racing hearts, Draco whispered praises into her skin.

“So good for me.”
She hummed.
“Perfect.”
Her face nuzzled into his chest.
“Did so well, pup.”

A comfortable silence cloaked them. The slight rustle of branches outside from the midnight breeze mingled with their shallow breaths, the only sound in the room. 

“Well…” she began, fingers dancing down the raised scars on his abdomen towards his softened cock. “I’m pretty sure we just broke about a hundred work rules.”

He nodded, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Perhaps.”

Another pause as their breathing continued to slow.

Her finger slid over his length and he twitched in response. “Well, that’s one way to release pent-up tension.”

Skimming his fingers over her rib cage, he pinched her already hardening nipples. “I’m still quite tense.” 

“Is that so?” she asked, the question breathy as she leaned her head back into the crook of his neck. His palm now glided down to cup her center being the answer to her question.

With languid movements, she began to pump his growing erection, clearly in no rush and savoring their lazy motions. “I guess we should do something about that, then?”

Pulling her to him, he crashed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, stealing the breath from her lungs. “I suppose we should,” he confirmed, shifting until her cunt hovered over his mouth for round two.

Any consequences he faced after this was absolutely worth it.