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A quiet thrill of triumph rushed through her veins as she stared out at the shimmer of magic filling the room. A soft smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "We did it," she breathed, keeping the surge of elation at bay long enough to jot several frantic notes on a scroll of parchment.
"You did it, you mean." Malfoy folded his arms at her side, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "All I did was suggest a couple tweaks. You're the one that came up with the magical foundation."
Hermione clicked her tongue. "It was a team effort."
"Flattered."
"This feels so important." Clapping her hands together, Hermione turned to face him, a wide grin overtaking her face. "Such a big step forward in transformational time magic. Unspeakables have been working on this for years."
The smirk on his lips shifted towards something else, something deeper and more genuine as his eyes locked on hers. "I never doubted you for a minute."
"Please," she huffed, a titter breaking free, "you fought my methodology tooth and nail for the first six months."
Malfoy snickered. "I might have done―but only because I knew you needed the push."
"See? Team effort."
A slow smile lifted her cheeks, and a heavy breath of relief fell from her shoulders. "I think the spells we've developed here have really established a foothold in clarifying the structure of time itself. The next phase will be in the application."
"They have." With a slow nod, he glanced sidelong. "And we're going to start that on Monday. We've already been at it for twelve hours."
Startled, Hermione glanced at her watch. "Shit, we have."
Malfoy remained silent for a long moment, gazing out towards the residual haze of magic lingering from their experiments. Another surge of exhilaration darted through her at the sight.
"Who would have known," he murmured at last, "we make a pretty damn good team."
She flashed him a grin. "Certainly not our Hogwarts selves." The thought itself would have been laughable back then, even during their eighth year when they had reached a tentative sort of amicability.
He barked a laugh, his gaze drifting to land on hers again. "We should go for a drink to celebrate. This is a big moment. My treat."
Belatedly, the smile dropped from her face. "I'd love to―unfortunately, I've got plans tonight. In fact, I'm going to be late."
"Ah." Some of the warmth dropped from his face, replaced by the unusual professionalism he carried as he straightened his shoulders. "Of course. Who's the lucky bloke?"
"Adrian again." Hermione made a face. "I don't want to jinx it, but―" She offered a bit of a smile.
A smirk dragged across his face again. "By saying you don't want to jinx it, you've jinxed it."
It was a long-standing joke between them, during the years they'd worked together in the Department of Mysteries as Unspeakables. As they'd experimented with some of the most volatile and dangerous forms of magic to exist.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he added, "Adrian's decent."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway―I'll see you Monday?"
"Yeah." He lifted his wand, waving it once to dissipate the glimmer of magic that still hovered in the air before them, celebratory and bright. Before she could rush off, she thought she heard him mutter, "Monday it is, then."
Hermione stared down at a series of complex arithmancy formulas on her desk; she jolted when a paper cup landed beside her parchment. Wide-eyed, she looked up to find Malfoy peering down and skimming her work.
"What are you working on?" he asked, sipping from his own cup. She knew even without asking that it was black coffee, two sugars. They'd spent more than enough late nights and early mornings working in the Time Room that she knew his fuel of choice.
"Thank you," she offered, opening the lid on her Earl Grey tea to release the piping hot steam. "I'm just testing the formulas―seeing if there's any variability in the duration of the time manipulation we worked out last week."
His brows lifted in curiosity. "Any luck?"
"Not yet."
Malfoy dragged a chair closer, his shoulder nearly grazing hers as he dropped down. He slipped on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that lent impeccably to the sharp bone structure of his face, and Hermione forced her gaze away from his close proximity. Clicking his tongue, he tapped on a line of her formula with one finger then yanked the quill from her hand.
"Hey," she snapped.
He ignored her, scratching the line out, then dragged her parchment in front of him. For several minutes, he worked in silence, seamlessly drafting endless lines of arithmancy in a way she could only dream of. It was where he excelled the most―in the technical minutiae of the task. She was the big picture thinker―and he was often the one to temper her ideas with sense and ultimately bring them to fruition.
Even at Hogwarts, she had known him to be smart; he was the second in their year only to her, after all. But it was after Hogwarts, when they'd been trapped in each other's presence every day, toiling over complex experiments in the Time Room, that she began to catch glimpses of his true brilliance.
His mind functioned in ways she couldn't even comprehend. As he worked, the quill scritching along the parchment in his elegant, tidy slant, a breath caught in her throat.
At last he frowned, a furrow knitting the skin between his brows, and slid the parchment back in front of her. "Try it like that."
Skimming his work―an elaborate and fantastical extension of her basic ideas―she breathed a reverent, "Holy shit."
"I know." A cocky smirk dragged at his lips. "But wait until you've tried it out first."
"You're brilliant, did you know?"
"I did." His smirk grew into a slow, crooked grin, eyes heavily lidded as they snagged hers. "But feel free to tell me again." He took a swig of coffee and drawled, "How was your date?"
Smile faltering, Hermione turned to face him. "It was alright. Evidently, I haven't messed things up yet as Adrian wants to see me again this week."
Malfoy snorted, shaking his head. "My money is on him being the one to mess things up with you."
"I appreciate that," she said with a quiet laugh, "but as you know, my track record is less than impressive."
"That it is." He took another deep swig of coffee and removed his glasses, folding them carefully and stowing them in a case. "What do you figure we try out some of those spells?"
Hermione eyed him a moment longer, a smile tugging almost unbidden at her lips. She had never envisioned Draco Malfoy as a coworker, an acquaintance―and dare she say, a friend.
At last, softly, she said, "That sounds like a plan."
"You're going to Theo and Luna's wedding this weekend, right?"
Malfoy's head jerked up as though surprised by her voice. They'd been working in utter silence for the better part of an hour, drafting and casting and revising formulas, and it was all too easy to get absorbed in their work.
"Of course." He nodded once, stowing his wand in its holster and scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm one of Theo's groomsmen."
Hermione offered him a thin smile. She'd already suspected as much. "Luna decided to forgo bridesmaids―something to do with the seasonal spirits."
He flashed her a grin. "Of course she did."
The sentiment wasn't derogatory, and Hermione tittered in return. "I don't always understand Luna, but she's a sweet soul. I'm glad she's found Theo."
"Are you kidding? He's been utterly smitten with her since they met." Shaking his head, Malfoy snickered. "I don't understand her most of the time―but I don't often understand Theo, either. Apparently for their honeymoon, they're going on a tour through the Amazon to search for... some sort of magical creature, anyway."
"That sounds like Luna."
They shared a grin and Malfoy drew his wand again, casting a few idle spells. "I imagine you're bringing Adrian?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment, scanning his countenance. "I am," she said at last. "I wasn't certain whether I should, given it's still relatively new, but he and Theo knew each other at school."
"You don't sound particularly certain," Malfoy said, clicking his tongue. "If you'd rather spend the night celebrating with your friends, tell him to sod off."
"I'm not going to tell him to sod off," she scoffed, feeling a flush of warmth rise to her cheeks. She was grateful for the dim lighting in the chamber as she asked, "Are you bringing someone?"
Malfoy's gaze slid to land on her for a moment, his wand hand halting mid-spell. He cleared his throat and glanced away. "Yeah. I think so."
"Right." She forced a thick swallow. "Of course. I just―I haven't heard you mention anyone."
Squaring his jaw, he said, "It's new."
Hermione nodded, fumbling for her own wand, and feebly repeated, "Of course. I'm sure she's lovely. I look forward to meeting her."
She could feel Malfoy's stare linger on her, even after she returned to work.
The wedding was magical―more so than Hermione could have imagined―even though she didn't understand most of the rituals Theo and Luna performed. But her friend carried a radiant glow, and Hermione could see the love between the two of them.
Adrian had looked ready to nod off partway through the three hour ceremony―not that she could entirely blame him―and as she picked at the variety of strange food on her plate, Hermione couldn't help the way her gaze drifted.
Malfoy and his date―a gorgeous, leggy blonde whom Hermione didn't recognise―sat at their same table. Her name was Cynthia, and apparently they'd met at a fundraiser gala the month before, but that was all Hermione knew about the woman. She imagined she could fill in the gaps well enough, and the thought wasn't remotely charitable.
If Adrian looked bored, Cynthia looked ready to crawl into a hole and wither away. She hadn't bothered to hide her disdain for the majority of the ceremony, more interested in her manicure than the couple vowing their love for each other.
Hermione didn't know her well enough to dislike her.
But for Luna's sake, and Theo's, she felt a bitter stinging of irritation. It had nothing to do with the way Cynthia kept leaning in to speak in Malfoy's ear, a wicked smile curving her lips upwards.
For his part, Malfoy's focus had remained stoically fixed on the ceremony every time Hermione looked his way, and he had only indulged Cynthia's inane whispers a handful of times.
In fact, he didn't look particularly taken with her at all.
He'd slammed more than a couple tumblers of Firewhisky, and by the time the meal came to a close, his hair was a little scruffy, eyes slightly glassy. The sight was both unnerving and amusing, when Hermione knew him mostly in a working capacity where he was always well put together, if not downright professional.
She felt an odd stirring in her stomach when Malfoy's gaze caught on hers from across the table, something in his stare that caused her attention to linger. His lips pulled down into a frown, and he didn't look away even when Cynthia leaned in to speak in his ear yet again.
Malfoy looked sharp in a crisp suit, an aubergine tie around his throat to match the decor and flower arrangements.
He pursed his lips with a brief glance in Cynthia's direction; Hermione knew him well enough to catch the slight tell of annoyance. Catching herself watching him overlong, she forced her stare away.
"Let's dance," Adrian announced, slamming the last of his drink, and he slung a possessive around Hermione's shoulders.
Jolting, Hermione tensed at the sudden movement, drawn from her silent perusal of Malfoy and his date. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the way his focus remained fixed on her, and managed a thick swallow.
"Sure," she breathed, plastering a thin smile on her face.
Cynthia folded her arms with a huff and announced, "We'll dance, too."
Malfoy didn't immediately respond.
Adrian stood, lacing his hand with hers, and tugged her to her feet. Colour flooded her cheeks as she allowed him to pull her towards the dance floor, and she caught Malfoy's gaze just once more before she lost sight of him. A bitter churning twisted her stomach into knots and she couldn't rationalise its origin.
Even as she fell into Adrian's arms, a four-piece musical group striking up a slow song, she couldn't quite shake the unease.
After the arduous nature of the ceremony, Hermione was tired, and by the time they'd danced for a few songs she was ready to sit back down―to call it a night so she could take a pass on watching the way Cynthia clung to Malfoy.
"Mind if I step in?"
She glanced up in surprise to catch Malfoy observing her, hands in his pockets.
"Sure, mate." Adrian released her, clapping Malfoy on the back with a grin. "I could use a drink anyway. Hermione, do you want anything?"
"No, thank you," she returned, not quite able to release the breath that snagged in her throat.
Malfoy stepped into place ahead of her, his grey eyes lingering on her for a moment before he took her hand. He hitched her in a little closer, and though he remained within the limits of propriety, heat bloomed across her skin at the gentle touch of his hands.
"How have you found the wedding so far?" he asked, something stiff and formal in his tone.
"It's been good," Hermione returned with a sharp nod. "Luna and Theo really seem to be enjoying themselves."
"Thankfully someone is," Malfoy muttered under his breath, and flashed her a hint of a smirk. "No offense to either of them―the ceremony was lovely, just not to my particular tastes."
She stiffened, intensely aware of the feel of his larger hand in hers. "Where's Cynthia?" she asked, unable to keep some of the chill from her voice. "I'm surprised she let you out of her sight."
The warmth vanished from his face. His hand tightened a little but he didn't speak for a long moment as he led her in silence to the music. At last, he released a breath. "Merlin fucking knows, honestly."
He sounded so irritated that Hermione couldn't help the giggle that slipped from her lips.
"Bringing her," he pressed on softly, "was a mistake."
Snagging her lower lip between her teeth, Hermione asked, "So why did you?"
"Obviously I didn't realise it would be a mistake at the time," he drawled wryly. "One might think I don't deserve to be a time specialist; I ought to have foreseen this error in judgement."
Despite herself, a bright laugh fell from her lips. "Perhaps we'll have to retract your official designation as a Temporal Unspeakable."
A grin spread across his face; the first true one she'd seen from him all night. "I'd really rather you not. Hopefully we can keep this between us."
"We can," Hermione said, casting a furtive glance around. "Unless it's too late and someone else has witnessed this."
He released a long-suffering sigh with a crisp, succinct, "Fuck."
At that, a peal of laughter threatened to burst forth, and she opened her mouth to say something more.
"What's so funny?" Adrian asked, sidling up at her side.
Abruptly, Malfoy stopped leading to the slow, gentle rhythm, and he clamped his jaw shut. "We were discussing something work-related. Confidential, I'm afraid."
Swigging from a drink, Adrian fixed Hermione with a bemused look. "You Unspeakables and your little secrets. Hermione refuses to tell me anything you two do down there."
Malfoy bristled, withdrawing his hand from hers. Tension radiated from him, the good humour that had danced between them moments before gone, replaced with an icy cold that made her frown.
"As I'm sure she's told you, we are expressly forbidden from sharing our little secrets." Cold disdain emanated from the words, and though surprise flickered across Adrian's face, Malfoy simply took a step back, ducking his chin. "Hermione, thank you for the dance. I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night."
He walked away without another word, and while Adrian simply shrugged, Hermione couldn't help the way she followed his retreat. He so rarely called her by her given name that the sound of it clanged about the ridges of her brain for a long moment before settling away into uncomfortable silence.
"I think I'm tired," she said at last, standing still on the dance floor as couples swayed gently on all sides. "I'm ready to go home."
Adrian huffed a laugh. "Thank Merlin. I was ready to go hours ago."
Hermione swept into the Department of Mysteries, making a direct route towards Malfoy's office. To her surprise, he wasn't there, and she clutched a steaming paper cup from the Ministry café in each hand as she went in search of him.
They started most days with a brief discussion about the status of their current project―an expansion on the breakthrough they'd made some weeks prior.
So it was surprising to discover him in discussion with another coworker in the central bank of offices, well away from the Time Room, already sipping from a tall paper cup.
His gaze roved her briefly when he noted her, but he didn't excuse himself from his conversation until several minutes later.
With brisk steps, he fell into step beside her as she began to walk, and didn't speak a word until they'd travelled to their usual work space.
"I got you a coffee," Hermione said, discomfort prickling along her skin as she settled into her seat, desperate to break the silence.
He took a sip and brandished his cup. "I already got one."
Embarrassment swelling within her at the dismissal, she frowned and shoved it towards him on the table anyway. "You'll have two, then." She cracked the lid on her own tea, fumbling in her satchel for parchment and a quill in an effort to extinguish the awkward air that hung between them.
Long belated, he said, "Thanks."
She took a sip of her too-hot tea, scalding her tongue, and asked, "Did you eventually find your date on Saturday?"
Malfoy didn't glance up as he began jotting notes on a sheet of parchment. "Sure. I found her. Seemed like you and Adrian had a nice time together."
Unease gave away to annoyance, and her eyes tightened in a scowl. "We did, thanks."
"Good."
The word was sharp and clipped, and toned with unfriendliness.
"You're in an awful mood," she bit out.
Malfoy only hummed, ignoring her as he carried on with his work.
Clenching her jaw, Hermione turned back to her own page. It had been some time since they'd had a row or even been cold with each other, and she resolved to ignore him as well.
Eventually, he released a loud huff, dragged a hand through his hair, and shoved his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. He scribbled out several lines of text, releasing a string of expletives under his breath. He so rarely messed up his formulas that she lifted her brows in surprise.
"What's the matter with you?" Hermione snapped after another long moment. "Are you hungover or something?"
"Maybe," he drawled, scrubbing at his eyes.
"The wedding was Saturday."
He released another annoyed sigh. "And is it your business if I overindulged a little on a Sunday?"
Taken aback at his rudeness, she sank into her seat. "Of course it isn't, Malfoy, I only wanted to―"
"Then leave it alone," he breathed, shrugging the tension from his shoulders. "For fuck's sake."
"You know what? Forget it," she bit out. "I was only concerned about you―but if you aren't going to at least attempt to be cordial, I'm not working with you today. I'll be in my office; let me know if you figure anything out."
Rising to her feet, she jammed her parchment back into her bag and collected her tea from the table with a shaky hand before pacing from the room. She could feel his gaze track her retreat but didn't dare look back, shame and embarrassment prickling along her skin.
By the end of the day, she hadn't sought him out again.
Several days passed and Malfoy's mood scarcely improved, to the point where concern began to creep in that something had legitimately happened. Since Monday, they'd worked on the project together largely in silence. But when she dropped into her seat beside him on Thursday, he wordlessly nudged a cup of tea towards her.
"Thanks," Hermione clipped, cracking the lid off.
He nodded, leaning back in his seat. "We need to run some of these formulas today."
"Oh," Hermione said, feigning surprise, "are you speaking to me today?"
Malfoy scowled. "I spoke to you yesterday."
"Twenty-eight words. You spoke twenty-eight words to me."
"You fucking counted?" Malfoy stared at her, confusion settling on his brow. "We'll shoot for thirty today, then. We're already more than halfway there."
Bristling, Hermione took a sip of her tea and peered at his notes. "You certainly don't need to be an arse."
"I'm not," he bit out. "I've had a lot on my mind, if you must know."
"And that means you can't be civil?"
Malfoy pursed his lips, grey eyes caught on her, and took a sip from his coffee. Finally, he released a heavy breath. "I'm sorry. I've been―"
"An arse?"
His mouth twitched with a hint of amusement. "Fine." He remained silent for a moment longer, turning his focus back to his page; Hermione knew better than to think he was done speaking though. "I've been struggling with something, but it wasn't fair of me to take it out on you."
Folding her arms, Hermione sank into her seat. "I accept your apology."
"Good." He wrenched a hand through his hair, rising from his seat and crossing the room. "Because look at this."
Curious despite herself and the barely resolved situation, she followed him to their workbench. Malfoy peered down at several assorted sheets of parchment, all covered top to bottom in his thin script. Some of the arithmancy was advanced enough that her eyes blurred at the endless rows, but at the look of anticipation on his face, she turned towards him.
"Don't tell me you figured it out."
Warmth danced in his grey eyes. "I figured it out. But there are still some small tweaks, and―"
"Draco!" she exclaimed, mouth falling open as she cut off the impending tirade. She didn't need all the details about his methodology. "I can't believe this."
Elation flooded through her, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around his middle. Malfoy was tall enough that her hair just grazed his chin, and in the moments after she clutched him, she felt tension settle in his entire body. Something rattled in the back of her mind, stunning her, and she forgot to move for a long moment as the situation slammed into her.
Embarrassed, she made to extract herself from the impulsive action just as his arms came around her.
And if she was overwhelmed by him before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt pressed flush against her. The firm muscles of his chest and stomach; the way his hand smoothed over her upper back just below her neck.
The rich scent of his cologne tickled her senses as she drew in a deep, shaky breath.
The warmth of his exhale brushed her neck, and Hermione wondered if he could feel the way her heart galloped with intrigue.
Malfoy's other hand landed on the small of her back, his fingers grazing the curve of her spine. For a moment that felt as though time might have simply stopped, she sank into the embrace, and some part of her couldn't comprehend which direction was up as her head spun and whirled.
Almost absently, he drifted one hand along the back of her neck; despite herself, her eyelids fluttered at the feel of it. The feel of him.
She felt overwhelmed, drowning in the scent of him, the warmth of his arms around her, and before she could simply melt into him, he cleared his throat. His hands dropped from her as he shifted away and, cheeks flaming with heat, Hermione stumbled a step back.
Releasing a shallow breath, she stared hard at the workbench. "Sorry," she offered, the word meek and low, and without waiting for a response, she dragged the nearest scroll of his notes towards her.
"That's alright," Malfoy murmured, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice that echoed how she felt.
And despite the way she forced her gaze to skim his tidy writing, she didn't catch any of it.
Hermione knew better than to let it get to her. She and Malfoy had worked together on amicable terms for years, and she could only imagine the look on his face if he knew the way she dwelled on something as innocuous as a hug for days after the fact.
She couldn't rationalise it.
Against her will, a small voice sang in the back of her mind, and she couldn't quite ignore it as well as she would have hoped.
Malfoy was attractive; objectively, she'd known as much for a long time. But he was her coworker, they worked well together, and she didn't want to mess it up with some poorly considered infatuation. She could only imagine the look on his face if she were to tell him; colour rushed to her cheeks at the very thought.
"What's the matter with you?" Malfoy asked, striding into her office. He slid a cup of tea―exactly as she liked it―onto her desk. "You look like you've come down with a fever or something."
Hermione hurriedly glanced away, willing the warmth from her face. "I rushed here," she forced out, unable to meet his stare.
Cocking a brow, he drawled, "Alright, then. Unlike you to be late for anything. Are you ready to work or should I fetch you a glass of ice water?"
She scowled at him. "I'm fine."
Malfoy clicked his tongue in mild irritation and began to withdraw materials from his satchel. "Whatever you say. Maybe I don't even want to know, if it's something illicit or―"
"It isn't," she rushed, embarrassment doubling in intensity. "Merlin."
His gaze slid to hers, lips twitching with a smirk. "I was kidding, Granger. Though now I am curious. Things going well with Adrian, obviously―"
"We broke up," she blurted. Drawing a deep breath, she added, "Adrian and I."
"Oh." The amusement dropped from Malfoy's face, a furrow of concern forming on his brow. "I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry. I thought you two were hitting it off."
The situation was rapidly devolving into a disaster. She couldn't very well tell Malfoy that she'd broken up with Adrian because he had been the one occupying most of her thoughts and it was unfair to Adrian. Merlin knew that wouldn't go over well.
At her extended silence, Malfoy curled a hand around her shoulder and she nearly flinched. "Granger?"
"It's alright." Pressing her lips into a grimace, she offered a smile that she doubted looked genuine. "Really. There was just something missing, I suppose."
Something. Like the way Malfoy's embrace had sparked warmth that spread through her entire being several days prior. Like the way his smile made her stomach riot and nerves flutter through her veins. Like the way she looked forward to work each morning because he always seemed to make her day that much better.
Malfoy blew out another long breath and finally released her shoulder. "Well, I am sorry to hear it didn't work out―but best to know now than wait and find out later. And for what it's worth―I don't think he was right for you."
Her heart clamoured with a rush in her throat as she stared at him, suddenly aware of each breath she drew. Adrenaline thudded a dull rush in her ears. "I thought you liked Adrian."
With a casual shrug that belied the intensity of the subject matter, Malfoy lifted a stack of parchment and began sorting through it. "I don't mind him as a person. But for you?" He shook his head once. "Not that it's my place, of course."
Some part of her wasn't ready to give up on the conversation, and as he drew his wand to begin working, a breath caught in her throat. "I don't mind you saying so," she breathed, the words coming out shakier than she'd anticipated. "We're friends, after all."
His hands stilled and he carefully set the wand down, before his grey eyes lifted to land on hers. His throat bobbed with a swallow. "Right. Of course we are."
A tremble settled in her hands and Hermione rolled her fingers into a loose fist to still the motion.
She wished it weren't the case. Maybe there was a part of her that hadn't seen him as something so simple as a friend in a long time. The thought stung, a breath tightening in her chest as she stared at him.
"As a friend," he said at last, his voice so low she could scarcely hear him, "I think you can do a lot better."
Hermione wanted to know what he meant, whether he inferred something―someone.
But he glanced away, rolling the tension from his shoulders, and lifted his wand again.
Before she could say anything more or draw the courage to speak her mind, the moment slipped from her like grains of sand as he began their work for the day. Blood rushed through her veins, her head a haze of thoughts that she couldn't force into making sense, and unease clenched her chest in a vise as she watched him for several breaths too long.
When his gaze slid back towards her, she snapped out of it, drawing her own wand.
And a part of her mourned the chance she'd failed to take.
Malfoy turned towards her several days later, his hair a little more ruffled than usual. It had been a long day of spellcasting, and the rest of the department had already emptied out for the night.
For over a week, she'd sat on the realisation that had been borne in his arms, her heart thudding a little faster at the sight of him, the sound of his voice. Hermione didn't know what to make of the situation, and she'd long since given up on trying to rationalise it as anything beyond what it was.
She was interested in Draco Malfoy. Hell, she was more than interested. She was gone for him, and she couldn't even recall any major point where everything changed, left to surmise it had happened in the slow creep of time. The hours spent working together, learning each other and growing to rely on their steady partnership.
"I know this probably sounds odd," Malfoy said, breaking the silence as Hermione gathered her materials from his office where they'd been working. "But I know the man who's put together that new exhibition in Diagon―the one on the evolution of household charms over the last five hundred years. It struck me as something you'd be interested in."
Hermione turned to face him with wide eyes. "I've been meaning to get tickets."
A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and he rounded his desk, drawing something from the top drawer. "I guessed right, then. He gave me two tickets to check it out; I thought you'd like it more than I would."
He brandished a pair of tickets, and Hermione took them with a thick swallow, eyeing the small text through the sudden blurring of her vision. "You didn't need to do that," she said quietly. "Are you sure you don't want to go?"
Shrugging, he dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't mind."
Hermione forced a thick swallow, clutching the tickets in her hand. "Thank you―I appreciate that."
But Malfoy only rolled his eyes. "It isn't a big deal. I'm sure you've got someone willing to go along."
"Why don't you come with me?" she asked, the words falling from her lips before she could think better of them. Colour flooded her cheeks in an instant as his gaze landed on her face, his expression unreadable. "I mean―they're your tickets. We could... we could go together."
In the tense silence that followed, Hermione wasn't entirely certain she was still breathing.
Then Malfoy ducked his chin. A furrow of consternation settled between his brows, his stormy eyes locking on hers. "Are you sure?"
It was probably a terrible idea. "Yes. It'll be fun. If you want to, that is."
"Fun," he echoed, the word low and uncertain.
In the moment, it struck her that he was so close she could reach out and touch him if she had the nerve. If it weren't such a terrible idea. Instead, she folded her arms across her front, watching the way his lips parted as though to speak. But he didn't say anything more.
"You don't have to," she whispered.
"I want to," he said finally, gaze lingering on hers, and she searched the depths of his eyes for something, anything to make sense of the situation. The way he stared at her as though she had the answers to the endless questions burning within him. Little more than a breath, he said again, "Yes, I want to."
Heat erupted in her chest, heart racing, and she set the tickets on the edge of his desk. Each breath in was an immense effort; she couldn't have torn her stare from his if she wanted to.
"What did you mean?" she blurted, catching even herself off guard. He blinked. "When you said I could do better."
Shaking his head, a sad smile tugged at his lips. "I meant you could have anyone you wanted."
"Anyone?"
In their close proximity, the swallow that traversed his throat was audible. "Yeah. Anyone."
Hermione almost couldn't stand the racing of her heart, tense and overwhelming; her pulse roared behind her ears as she stared at him, drifting half a step closer.
"Even if it doesn't make sense?"
She drifted a hand along the front of his shirt, grazing the silk of his tie.
A quiet huff of disbelief fell from his mouth. "Even then," he breathed, catching her hand in his. "Especially then."
Before she could make sense of anything else, of the desperate ache in her chest, his lips were on hers. Warmth exploded, racing through her from the point of contact, and there was nothing in her to resist as she sank into him. One of his arms wrapped around her, drawing her flush against his form, the other tugging at a loose curl as he kissed her again.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Hermione traced his lips with her tongue, his mouth parting instantly to her, and the surprise at his touch gave way to a heady rush of desire that swelled within her.
No space remained between them as he delved into her mouth, his lean lines hard against her curves, and one of his palms grazed her hip, moving up towards her chest as he backed her against the wall.
Tearing away, breathing heavily, Malfoy stared at her; his eyes were darkened with the same haunting lust that she felt, all-encompassing, within her.
"Sorry," he breathed, swallowing thickly. "I shouldn't―"
"You should," she whispered, coiling a hand in his tie and dragging him back in.
When his mouth found hers again, the last of the hesitation between them vanished. Hermione fumbled with the knot of his tie, wrenching the fabric free from around his neck, her fingers tugging at the buttons of his shirt. Her heart thudded a reckless cadence at the feel of him, the touch of him, and she swallowed the moan from his throat when her fingers grazed the hard lines of his abdomen just above his belt.
He palmed her breast, fingers grazing and tweaking the sensitive peak through her shirt, and a breathy whimper fell from her lips. Malfoy plucked the buttons of her blouse, his fingers deft and crafting a new form of magic within her as he revealed her bare skin.
For a long moment, he stared at her, gaze reverent. He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, breaths falling from her lips as she gazed at him, transfixed.
He leaned in again, trailing a string of kisses from her mouth, along the line of her jaw, down the curve of her throat. "I can't tell you," he murmured, snagging her earlobe between his teeth, "how long I've wanted to kiss you."
His words jolted straight through her, landing as molten heat between her legs. Hermione threaded a hand through his hair, tilting her head to provide him better access as he made a languorous exploration of her flesh. His hands drifted her skin, one focused on her breasts while he danced featherlight touches over her hip with the other, just above her skirt.
"Why didn't you?" she found herself asking. "Before now."
His gaze flicked up to hers again. "Because you didn't want me to before now."
Hermione pushed his shirt from his shoulders, smoothing her hands along the muscle of his arms and, holding his gaze, dropped her hands to his belt buckle. "Maybe I just didn't know how much I wanted it."
His eyes flashed, pupils so large they nearly overtook the grey of his irises. As she removed his belt, fingers grazing the hard length of his erection through his trousers, he stared at her as though he'd never seen her before.
His hand toying with her skirt fell to the hem, bunching it up on her hip, and he brushed another kiss to the curve of her jaw. "Let me touch you?"
"Yes," she breathed, unable to imagine denying him anything at the moment.
Releasing a breath, he tugged the skirt from her hips, and she stepped out of it as he dragged it down her legs and tossed it to the side. Clad only in her bra and knickers, pressed against the wall of his office, Hermione had never felt so desired as she did at the look in his eyes.
Malfoy kissed her again, deeply, and stars burst on the backs of her eyelids as she drew life from each of his kisses.
Then in one swift moment, he lifted her from the floor, one hand flat on her arse. Instinctively, she coiled her legs around his hips, grinding absently against his cock. A groan fell from his lips, one of his hands dropping between them to press against the gusset of her knickers.
Nudging the fabric aside, he slid one finger, then two, inside of her. He huffed a curse against her mouth as he met with the liquid desire pooled between her thighs. His fingers thrust into her, curling against her interior walls, and stifled cries fell from her lips as he set a teasing pace.
His thumb grazed her clit, pressing on the bundle of nerves, when suddenly he froze. A smirk lifted the corners of his mouth and he drawled, "Maybe we shouldn't do this here."
Mind a blur from his ministrations, Hermione blinked at him several times as his words settled into place.
The thought of ascending the lift from level nine and passing through the atrium in order to leave the Ministry was viscerally painful.
"Here is fine," she huffed, grinding against his palm.
A soft laugh fell against her lips, and he nipped her lower lip with a growled, "Minx."
Then he drew pleasure from her in earnest, his fingers thrusting into her, hitting that spot within her that sent delirium spiralling as his thumb circled the bundle of nerves at her apex. He dragged one cup of her bra free with his other hand, ducking down to capture her nipple with his mouth, teasing her flesh with his tongue and teeth.
And with each thrust, each kiss and touch, each quiet, reverent breath that fell against her skin, that precipice loomed as her entire body coiled and tensed.
All at once, release swept through her, vision darkening as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, and a cry fell from her lips against his skin. Her chest heaved with each breath, eyelids fluttering as he drew her orgasm out, working the sensitive skin with careful focus.
As she came down from her climax, Hermione gazed at him, her mind still a blur.
Malfoy's mouth quirked up with a scintillating smirk that she'd never seen, and heat bloomed within her chest as she dragged his mouth back to hers in a long, sensuous kiss.
Dropping one hand, she palmed the hard length of his cock, desire for him already teasing the edges of her senses again. Unravelling her legs from his waist, she dropped to the floor and released the closure of his trousers.
His grey eyes danced with arousal and intrigue as she pushed his pants free, taking his erection in her palm and dragging her hand along the smooth flesh. He was impressive in both length and girth, and the filthy mutterings that fell from his lips as she pumped him only spurred her on.
He leaned one arm against the wall to support himself as she smoothed her hand the length of him, snagging her lower lip between her teeth as she caught his eye.
Eyes flashing, he smirked, and in a rapid movement, he scooped her up and deposited her on the empty edge of his desk. Holding her up with one arm, he released the clasp of her bra and ducked in, laving her breasts with teasing kisses that made her squirm, quiet whimpers falling from her lips as she dropped her head back.
Pinching one nipple with his thumb and forefinger, he asked, "Are you sure about this?"
For a moment, Hermione only stared at him. Then a breathy laugh fell from her lips. "Of course I'm sure, you pr―"
He thrust into her in one motion, sheathing himself to the hilt with a groan. Hermione froze, shifting slightly on the desk to accommodate his size, almost uncomfortably full for several breaths.
Malfoy caught her eye, tension in his shoulders at the effort to hold still, and a smile lifted her mouth as she rolled her hips against his. He eased out and back in, biting down on his bottom lip as he held her stare in a way that caused her desire to flare.
A long, low moan fell from her lips at the feel of him, and her eyes fluttered shut. She wound a hand around the back of his neck, and his lips grazed hers as he set a slow, teasing rhythm into her.
Legs coiling around his hips, she fell into the sensations he drew from her, her pulse rapid with each breath.
Some part of it felt infinitely right, his arms around her as he moved within, easing her higher, closer, with every roll of his hips against hers.
He breathed her name against her mouth, his fingers digging into her curls and tugging hard enough to sting. Cries fell from her lips with each thrust, her body singing under his touches, the questions and answers he wrote in her skin.
Faster still, he drove into her, his breathing ragged; a thin sheen of perspiration broke out on her brow, heat rushing through her at the absolute and all-encompassing feel of him pressed against her.
"Draco," she whispered, the word drawn from her lips as a sigh. "More."
She could feel the smirk against her lips. He slammed into her still harder, hands everywhere, his mouth crushing against hers as he drew her flush against him.
Pleasure built within her again, a desperate swelling of heat and desire, and his hand snaked down her stomach. Fingers grazed her clit, teasing the sensitive flesh.
She came with a choked cry, release bursting at the edge of her senses for the second time, and with a groan he followed her into the abyss. Her heart raced, adrenaline coursing through her entire being, and in the moment, everything narrowed down to him. Breaths fell rapidly from her lips, her body settling as the waves of pleasure began to dissipate, drifting in and breaking on the shore of her consciousness.
A quiet huff of laughter fell from his mouth against her skin, and he pressed his lips to her throat for a long, lingering moment.
Releasing a low, satisfied hum, Hermione smiled up at him, carding a hand through his sweat-damp hair. A slow, returning smile lifted one side of his mouth, and he shifted a loose curl out of her face before planting another brief kiss to her mouth.
He pressed one palm to her lower stomach, and Hermione felt the soothing contraceptive magic sweep through her before he carefully withdrew from inside of her and stood.
Straightening on the desk, Hermione allowed her gaze to skim the impressive sight of his body bared before her, and a wicked smirk tugged at his lips as he met her gaze.
Bending down, he pulled on his shorts and tossed her knickers at her.
"Get dressed," he drawled, picking up her bra.
A hint of anticipation tugged at her senses at the sparkle in his eye. "Why?"
"Because," he said, digging through their clothes for his trousers. "I've imagined this moment countless times, and it almost always involved dinner beforehand." A genuine smile flitted across his face. "Dinner afterwards will have to do."
Warmth swept through her. "Dinner sounds good."