Hermione sucked a green grape off a toothpick and reminded herself not to slouch. It wouldn't do to look bored, no matter how dull she found the party. Parkinson Publications expected all its authors to attend publicity events, and the annual fund-raiser was mandatory. She sighed and slipped one of her shoes off beneath the table to rub her toes. Pinched feet were a small price to pay, she supposed, when it meant more recognition for her upcoming book, Linens and Liberation. Hermione snorted and downed half the contents of her wineglass. The title wasn't as explanatory as her original, Help Our Minority Elves, but she did have to admit it had a pithy charm. Definitely easy to remember and looked good in brochures, so she thought Pansy might have had a point in insisting it be changed.
A cheer went up, wild applause distracting her from her thoughts and Hermione looked to the front of the room. Pansy stood on the platform, her arm around the waist of Parkinson Publications' most favored financial backer, Draco Malfoy. Hermione huffed as Draco leaned over to kiss Pansy's cheek and the women in the audience went mad. Apparently money made any man worth screaming over. She put her glass in the center of a tiled square on the table. "Same again," she mumbled, running her finger around the rim of the goblet as she watched Draco wave to the audience. The glass filled and she set to draining it for the fourth time that night. Money, and good looks. It was a bitch to admit it, but Draco had grown into his features. His skinny frame had become a lean, elegantly muscled body; his pointed, pinched face had turned into high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Soft blond hair, grey eyes as deep as the ocean, long fingers that looked like they could reach straight up inside her--
Hermione coughed and finished her wine, blaming it for the heat in her cheeks. Fine, Draco was fit, but that was no reason to stare. Not even his long-legged swagger or the tightness of his arse beneath his trousers-- "Get it together, Granger," she muttered to herself as she shoved her hair behind her ears. She grabbed her glass, slopping wine on the tablecloth, and shoved her foot back into her shoe. The speeches were over, and she could walk around. She plucked her cashmere wrap from the back of her chair, and plastered a smile in place as she stood.
After an hour, she decided that 'walk around' was a relative term. It was more like 'walk two feet, have a dull conversation with a tipsy wizard, remove said wizard's hand from her arm, spine, or arse, walk two feet, repeat'. It was a good thing that all the attendees at the fund-raiser had been required to leave their wands with a Parkinson Publications intern at the entrance of the ballroom, or several men would have left with their testicles in severe torque. Hermione snatched a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter and downed half of it in two swallows. That was it. She'd had enough.
She slipped to the edge of the room as quickly as she could, aiming for the tall doors at the far end. She'd promised Pansy that she wouldn't leave the fund-raiser until the end, but she hadn't said anything about sneaking out for a few minutes. She looked over her shoulder, a sense of guilt pinging on her like she was out after curfew, then bucked up her courage and took her chance. She slipped out of the doors and hurried down the dark balcony to the shadows at the end. She could still see the lights of the ballroom gleaming through the windows, could still hear the loud murmur of conversation and the occasional roar of laughter. It wasn't entirely private, but she didn't much care. It was sufficient. She was out of that party for a little while. Long enough for her to build up the strength to take more dull conversations and boring donors.
Hermione tightened her wrap around her shoulders and dropped into an ornate wrought-iron chair at a table hidden by a pair of tall plants covered in purple leaves, kicking her shoes off again. She folded her arms atop the railing and settled her chin on them as she stared up at the stars. Tapping one finger against the barrier spell that kept anyone from falling over the balcony, she sighed. She hated these events. Even publicizing her books or getting more attention for her causes never turned out to be worth the glad-handing and flattery she had to suffer each time she showed up to one of these. Most people were desperate to get their faces in front one of the 'golden heroes of the war', to be seen talking and smiling with her. A photo in the society gossip columns, "Mr Nigel Apple-Polisher with Order of Merlin holder Hermione Granger", or some similar rubbish, seemed to be the pinnacle of achievement for half the donors.
A man's deep laugh shattered the silence of the night around her and Hermione looked over her shoulder, making a face. She expected that one of the donors had seen her slip out of the party and was now going to try and trap her alone. She drew deeper into the shadows of the corner behind the plants and prayed she was invisible. If she were better at it, she'd have tried a wandless, wordless Disillusionment spell, but that was one she'd never perfected. She closed her eyes instead, concentrating hard on being unseen.
"And just why did you drag me out here?" she heard the man ask and she stiffened as she recognized Draco's voice. "As if I didn't know."
"Think rather a lot of yourself, don't you?" The woman who answered him had a teasing, laughing lilt in her voice, and Hermione's eyes snapped open. Pansy. Damn it all, she said to herself. If Pansy spotted her in the shadows, she'd be dragged back into the party before she could blink. Hermione reached up, moving slow and stealthy, and pulled a branch of the leafy plant aside. She peered through the hole she'd made, the light from the ballroom windows enough to give her a clear view of the couple standing only a few feet away in hopes she'd see them with their backs turned from her.
Draco leaned against the balcony's railing, his hair gleaming in the moonlight. Pansy stood in front of him with her hands on his chest. Hermione watched her look up to Draco and toy with his collar. Draco grinned at Pansy and held both hands out to his sides. "What can I say? It's not arrogance if it's true. Don't lie to me, Pansy. I know what it does to you to watch all those women flirting with me. Jealous thing. You always were."
Pansy laughed and drummed her fingers on Draco's chest. "True enough," she said with a shrug. "And you flirt with other women because you know what it does to me."
Hermione raised her brows as she listened to them teasing each other. She thought she should cough or move or do something to draw their attention and let them know she was present, but Pansy's next actions kept her frozen in her seat. Pansy went up on her toes to kiss Draco's jaw, then lowered to her knees in one movement. Draco put both hands on the balustrade as Pansy unfastened his belt.
Draco's head fell back and his hands flexed on the railing as Pansy rubbed her cheeks on his groin. She nuzzled his thighs and unfastened his trousers. She pulled his cock free and licked up the underside, and Draco let out a groan that made Hermione grateful she was already sitting. The needy sound of his voice would have buckled her knees otherwise.
She watched, one hand over her mouth, as Pansy flickered her tongue around Draco's cock. Pansy teased him, not letting him have anything except the brushing tip of her tongue. When Draco touched Pansy's hair and rocked his hips to push against her mouth, Pansy sat back on her heels and clucked her tongue in teasing disapproval as she ran her fingers along his length.
Draco groaned in protest and Hermione echoed him. Pansy's head snapped around at the sound. Draco didn't appear to notice, head back and chest heaving, but Pansy stared directly at the shadowy corner of the balcony. At the swaying branch Hermione had released in fear of getting caught. At the base of the plant where--
Hermione silently swore. One of her shoes was laying there, the heel in full view. She held her breath and waited for Pansy to stop, for the pair of them to hex her for watching them.
Pansy didn't get to her feet or draw Draco's attention to where Hermione lurked behind the plants. Instead, Pansy's lips curled in a smile and she touched one finger to them in a shushing gesture. She turned her attention back to Draco. "Remember when we used to do this back in school?" she asked, her voice carrying clearly to Hermione. "On patrols? Remember how excited you used to get at the idea of being caught?"
Draco made a guttural sound and dropped his head forward to look down at Pansy. "Yeah," he said in a slow drawl. "Wasn't getting caught that had me going, though."
Pansy tossed her hair back and used the movement to glance at Hermione's hiding place. "That's right," she said. "You didn't want to be caught. You wanted to be watched." She stuck her tongue out and drew it up the full length of Draco's cock. He shuddered, gripping at the balustrade until Hermione could see the veins standing out on the backs of his hands. She felt a throb in her gut and pressed her thighs together. Her knickers slid against her body and she had to swallow down a gasp at how wet they were already.
Pansy wrapped her hand around Draco's shaft. She pumped slowly. "What if someone were watching us right now?" she asked, smiling up at him. "What if someone were out here with us, watching us? Watching me suck your cock?"
"Fuck, yes." Draco's voice was almost a growl and Hermione tightened her thighs, rubbing them against each other. She kept her eyes on Pansy's moving hand and matched the rhythm of strokes to the press of her thighs.
Pansy licked the tip of his cock. "Who's watching us?" she asked. Draco made a soft noise and rocked his hips again. Pansy fluttered her tongue against him. "Tell me, Draco. Who's in your head? If someone were watching us right now, who would it be?"
He shook his head and slumped on the railing, sitting on the very edge of it with his legs spread wide. "Don't care," he mumbled.
Pansy gave a sharp pump to his cock and Draco hissed, his head dropping back. "Who?" Pansy demanded. "Daphne? Maybe Daphne. Maybe her sister. Astoria? You do like your women dark-haired. What about that woman we met last month in Lyon? Yvette, that was her name. Her?" Pansy stroked Draco's cock hard each time she said another name, and Draco grunted in response.
Hermione shifted in her chair, leaning forward. She pulled the branch down and tucked it under the one beneath. She watched, mouth open and tongue brushing her lip, as Pansy pushed Draco's cock up and kissed the underside.
"What about Hermione?"
Hermione startled, her eyes opening wide at Draco's reaction. He shook, literally shook from head to hip, and his groan made her cunt ache. Pansy gave a low, wicked laugh, and pumped him faster. Hermione covered her mouth, concerned that even her breathing might give her away.
"That's the one," Pansy said. She shuffled on her knees, moving a few inches and giving Hermione a completely unobstructed view. "That's who you're thinking of right now, isn't it? Thinking about Hermione Granger, watching us. Watching you get off. What if she were here? What would you say?"
Draco groaned and pressed one hand to the back of Pansy's head, pushing her closer to him. "Fuck it," he grumbled. "Let her watch. Want her to watch. Fuck, Pansy. Suck me."
Pansy pushed Draco's hand away and leaned forward, drawing him into her mouth. Hermione watched, her lips trapped between her teeth to keep moans from escaping. She eased her skirt up her thighs and wriggled her hand beneath the lace front of her knickers, moving as quietly as she could. She pressed down, the tips of her two middle fingers groping for her clit. Brushing across it made her shudder and one of the chair legs scraped.
Draco lifted his head and started to look around, but Pansy dug her nails into his knees and took him deep. She nuzzled against his groin, her cheeks puffed and throat working as she sucked the full length of his cock. Draco groaned and gripped at her shoulders, swearing softly, his attention completely on her.
Hermione ground her lips together, near to howling with frustration at her own slow movements. She was positive that Draco would hear her, even over his rough panting and muttered demands, would hear the slick slide of her fingers on her cunt if she rubbed any faster. She wanted to, though. Desperately wanted to. Draco's spine was nearly bowed as he dropped his head back and thrust his cock into Pansy's mouth, and Hermione could tell he was riding close to orgasm. She wanted to meet him there.
She palmed her breast and pinched her nipple between her fingers. The small pain sent heat flaring through her body and made her shiver. She rocked her hips against her hand, breathing rough and fast through her nose. C'mon, she said to herself as she stared at Draco's cock slipping in and out of Pansy's mouth. "Draco, come. Come for me.
Draco stiffened and for one heart-stopping moment Hermione thought she'd spoken aloud, then his mouth dropped open and he gave a low, rattling groan that sounded like it was being ripped from him. He clutched at Pansy's shoulders to hold her in place. Pansy wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and stroked, short, quick, and hard. Draco bucked, driving deep into Pansy's mouth.
She choked and smacked at his thigh but didn't struggle to pull away. She swallowed, once, then twice, then released him with a shake of her head. Draco's cock pulsed in her hand and a final spurt of come sprayed across Pansy's lips and cheek.
The image of Draco slumped on the railing, his come dripping off Pansy's lips, was too much for Hermione. She ground her clit beneath her fingertip and plastered her free hand over her mouth, keening behind it as she came. Her body shook and she threw her head back, her throat working convulsively in her efforts to swallow down her shrieks. Colored spots burst across the inside of her closed eyelids.
She collapsed against the back of her chair and rolled her head to look through the branches of the plant. Pansy was on her feet, smiling at Draco and fixing his clothes as he wiped her face with a handkerchief. He kissed the tip of her nose and Pansy patted his chest. "Go on inside," she said, her voice rough. "Go flirt with some other witches. Get me good and jealous for later. Love you."
Draco chuckled and nuzzled her cheek before walking down the balcony, his stride a touch uneven and shaky. Pansy straightened her dress and pulled a silver case out of her bodice. She lit a cigarette from a lighter built into the case, white smoke floating toward Hermione's hiding place with the scent of mint and cloves.
Pansy crooked one finger at Hermione. "Come out, come out, I know where you are," she said in a sing-song voice.
Hermione grimaced, but stood on trembling legs. She adjusted her clothes and edged around the plants, her discarded shoes clutched between her hands. "I didn't mean to--"
"Don't fret." Pansy waved off her tentative apology with a languid sway of her hand. "We don't mind. Matter of fact, I rather appreciated having you there. Draco likes to be watched, darling little exhibitionist that he is. Always did demand to be the center of attention. He'd have come twice as hard if he'd known I wasn't only teasing about you watching." She blew a thin plume of smoke at the sky and raised her brows. "Enjoy yourself?"
Hermione swallowed and chewed on her lip, debating her answer, then nodded slowly. Pansy laughed and dropped her cigarette on the balcony floor, leaving it to burn. She stepped forward and brushed Hermione's cheek with the back of her hand. Leaning in close, she whispered. "We'll be leaving just after midnight. Come with? You can catch an encore performance, and this time you can make all the noise you want."
She didn't wait for an answer, just patted Hermione's cheek and blew her a kiss before strolling away. Hermione dropped her shoes and fumbled them on as she stared after Pansy, already deciding she wanted to join in. This party had turned out fun after all.