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“I cannot believe you convinced me to go out, Gin. My legs are freezing,” Hermione said, attempting to pull down her bright red dress.
“Oh, get over it. Are you a witch or not? Do a warming spell before we go in! You’ll be fine once we start dancing and drinking!” Ginny said, a newly formed gleam in her eye.
Hermione and Ginny were in the short queue outside the Muggle nightclub The Green Frog, waiting for their turn to enter. Given that it was Halloween night, the club was undoubtedly busier than usual. The sky was ominously suggesting rain at any moment and the meteorologist had predicted near freezing temperatures. Hermione held in her sigh, determined to be a good friend. While Ginny was wearing a black long sleeve spandex jump suit (“I’m a cat, duh,” she had said, adding a pair of cat ears when Hermione had dared question her costume earlier in the evening), Hermione was dressed in the only costume she could come up with in the 45 minutes she had after her late night in the office: the devil. She already had the red dress from a Gryffindor party in eighth year, and it was easy enough to throw on a pair of horns and heels before using magic to apply a dark smokey eye. After Ginny had shortened the hem and lowered the cleavage slightly, she determined Hermione good to go.
Hermione had been reluctant enough to go out with Ginny tonight, but her and Harry had broken up about two months before and her best friend was finally ready to get back out there; who was she to discourage that in any way? Hermione had spent the last several weekends coaching Ginny through her heartbreak over wine and ice cream.
However, Hermione had clearly miscalculated her friend, given that she had been moping and not her usual self the last few weeks. Ginny was back in her full, and completely bullheaded and bossy, form. Ginny had entered through Hermione’s Floo a few hours prior, announcing that she would no longer be moping, she would without a doubt be getting laid that evening, and Hermione was to be her wing-woman come hell or high water. While Hermione loved her dearly, she had not been planning on this sort of social evening. Yet here she was, ready to try to make the most of it.
Upon finally entering the club, Hermione held in her sigh while Ginny let out a verbal squeal and gave a shimmy. All around, Muggles were dressed in their Halloween best: superheroes, nurses, even a fair few witches and wizards. There was a fog machine emanating across the dance floor, and Hermione swore she could here an electronic version of Superstition being played by the DJ.
“Let’s grab a drink, then dance! This is exactly what I imagined for tonight!” Ginny squealed, reaching for Hermione’s hand and dragging her to the bar.
Hermione huffed but smiled. She could get over the corny muggle traditions around the holiday if it meant that the night would involve drinking and dancing only, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Ginny started her prowl.
Ginny quickly ordered the pair a syringe shot followed by a cocktail each that made Ginny give a wicked grin- something sickly sweet called ‘The Witch’s Heart’.
“Here’s to mending my dear old witch’s heart and to the devil herself,” Ginny said, clinking her drink to Hermione’s.
“Cheers, Ginny!” Hermione said, laughing before downing her shot and chasing it with her cocktail. She would need a bit of a buzz to keep up with Ginny’s energy this evening.
Ginny and Hermione headed to the dance floor, losing themselves to music for a good hour. This was Hermione’s favorite part about going out in Muggle London; the club scene was always perfect for dancing, and she was afforded a lot more anonymity than in the wizarding world, which let her feel more carefree. Despite the 3-inch heels Ginny had insisted she wore, the two girls let loose and danced with each other and a few guys until Ginny grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her off the dancefloor as a slower song began.
“Another drink?” Hermione asked, waving her hand against her neck. She was definitely not feeling the crisp outside temperature anymore. Instead, trickles of sweat made their way down her back and through her cleavage.
“No! Well, yes, in a moment, but I’m ready,” Ginny said, a determined look crossing her face. “Help me find the first of many conquests that will help me get over Harry.”
Hermione nodded, determined to be a good friend, “Right. Let’s scope it out while we head towards the bar.”
As they walked through the manufactured fog, Hermione kept her eyes casually peeled for her friend. Ginny was a little less subtle, swinging her head left and right and thoroughly eyeing everyone who walked by.
Hermione’s eyes strayed towards the far wall of the club where the high-end booths were lined. Club goers could pay to have the booth for the night and additional fees for endless champagne service and the like. Though she meant it to be a cursory glance, her eyes slid over a beautiful black man before meeting grey eyes and blond hair she would recognize anywhere. Though it was the smallest of moments where they maintained eye contact, Hermione saw his eyes widen and dilate with recognition.
Suddenly, Hermione stopped and swung her hair to cover her face, quickly turning towards Ginny and grasping her inner elbow, trying to pull her out of their line of sight. “Oh shit. Oh no. Did you see who that was?”
Ginny’s huge grin did nothing to abate Hermione’s rising anxiety, let alone the fact she was staring directly over Hermione’s head in their direction. “No way. No fucking way. Is this fate? Is that Blaise fucking Zabini? In a Muggle club? How did I get so lucky?”
Hermione groaned internally. Ginny had harbored a huge crush on Zabini throughout their time at Hogwarts and had even been known to bring up just how beautiful he was frequently at their wine nights or brunches. Even Harry had known about Ginny’s crush on the Slytherin while they were dating. This did not bode well for wing-woman Hermione.
“Please, I thought you wanted to find a muggle? A bit of anonymity for your first fling back into single life? Please, anyone but Slytherins!” Hermione did nothing short of beg.
It wasn’t that Hermione still hated Malfoy exactly, but she hadn’t interacted with him in any way in over five years. After the war, Hermione had done the bare minimum by speaking at his trial and deeming him innocent, though in general still a prat. During their 8th year they had last spoken when they had been assigned Potions partners for the spring term. Though Malfoy had mostly kept to himself, he had been polite and given Hermione space to complete the assignments how she wished, finally apologizing near the end of the year for all the ways he had wronged her in the past. All that wasn’t enough for her to say she was quite comfortable or trusting of him, however, despite how he looked visually (honestly, delicious) or how he had last been known to act around her (reasonably polite).
Quite a bit of time had passed since then and Hermione had not seen hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy. Which, if she stopped to think about it, was the way she preferred it. The Prophet or Witch Weekly hardly kept tabs on the former Death Eater, besides occasionally mentioning him as an eligible Pureblood bachelor.
“Oh, absolutely not. This is without a doubt meant to happen. Me, former lover of the Chosen One, finally getting a chance to shoot my shot with one of the Slytherin’s? One of the Slytherin’s I’ve been dying to slither in on, if you catch my drift, since at least fifth year? Nope, come on wing-woman. Help me out,” and with that, Ginny took Hermione by the hand and started dragging her towards the pair in the booth, despite Hermione’s attempts at digging her heels in.
Malfoy and Blaise were leaned into each other, a quiet and quick conversation clearly taking place. As they approached, Hermione could finally make out their costumes, if you could call them that. Blaise was dressed, somewhat loosely, as a pirate. He wore a pirate hat and boots, with a loose white blouse on underneath a sheathed sword. Malfoy was in what Hermione guessed was close to his typical garb. A tailored black button up shirt tucked into dark black jeans, paired with black wingtips that he had stretched out underneath the table. The only hint of a costume was a small pair of wings attached to his back, also black. Hermione errantly thought he looked like Westley as the Dread Pirate Roberts in The Princess Bride, one of her favorite movies, and reminded herself to stop checking him out.
When they were within speaking distance, both boys reacted in the exact way Hermione had expected. Blaise began to take a sip of his drink, then exaggeratedly put it down before doing a double take at the two ladies. His smile was large, though a bit feral, and he pointedly eyed both women up and down before greeting them with open arms, beckoning them to come closer. The only reaction Malfoy gave was raising his eyebrows to the bottom of his blond fringe when he glanced at them and the slightest hint of a pink stain across his cheeks. Other than that, he held fast to his empty drink and looked at them both blankly.
“Hello, snakes. Fancy seeing you here. Can we buy you a round of drinks?” When Ginny wanted something, she had no problem going for it. Gryffindor bravery through and through.
“Well, well. Weaslette, Granger. You are both looking ravishing. We would be happy to have you join us for a drink,” Blaise said, eyeballing Ginny distractingly. Hermione unconsciously moved the hair away from her neck, feeling nervous. She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her, though when she glanced his way he was staring into his glass of ice.
Feeling like she had entered an alternate reality, she decided to put her own thoughts aside in favor of supporting her friend. She gave an awkward wave and a small smile, “Hi Blaise, hi Malfoy. We almost couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw the two of you in a Muggle club.”
“Well, do sit down, Granger. I’m sure Malfoy can fill you in on what brings us to this particular establishment on Halloween. Ginevra, darling, I would love to accompany you to the bar,” Blaise said, gracefully helping Hermione into his spot in the booth before turning and lightly running his hand along Ginny’s arm.
Ginny did nothing but give him a sultry smirk, before turning to Hermione and saying with a wink, “Be good, you two. We’ll bring you back something strong. I’m sure you’ll need it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ginny was too focused on Blaise to notice. They both turned and walked towards the queue at the bar. With that, Hermione was left staring across the booth at Malfoy. Part of her brain was trying to compute the statistical likelihood that her and Ginny would be at this particular muggle bar the exact time Malfoy and Blaise would. Absolutely improbable. Another part of her brain was realizing that Ginny just might have the rebound she so desired with someone she had been interested in for ages if Hermione could help her out.
“Granger, lovely to see you. Though I wasn’t expecting to see the devil herself. Golden Girl and princess of darkness? It’s quite terrifying,” Malfoy spoke quietly and in the same uppity tone, albeit deeper than she recalled, not even looking up at Hermione but instead staring into his glass of melting ice cubes, eyebrows raised and smirk forming. However, his finger tapped insistently on the side of his glass, and she could feel his leg jumping under the table. If she didn’t know better, she would assume he was slightly nervous yet trying to hide it.
“Malfoy. It was this or ‘witch’ with the amount of time Ginny gave me to get ready this evening, and I thought this was slightly more original than that,” Hermione said, gesturing to her outfit and staring at Malfoy like she was trying to put together a puzzle.
Malfoy smirked again, still not looking at her. “Well, Blaise was correct. You do look ravishing. Blaise, as I’m sure you could tell, is acting like Christmas came early. He has had a terrible crush on Weaslette since sixth year at least.”
Hermione raised her eyebrows at the sneaky compliment but said nothing. This was not how she was expecting this conversation to go, and she was waiting for the other shoe to fall. “Well, Ginny has him beat. She’s been interested since at least fifth year.”
Draco huffed a small laugh and nodded his head, shaking the ice in his glass, still tapping his finger.
A moment of awkward silence surrounded them. Hermione mentally reviewed the ways Malfoy acted in eighth year and the few bits of news she had read about him since. She recalled him being much quieter and polite, a different person than the one she knew from the first few years at Hogwarts. After sixth year, Malfoy had never insulted or belittled her, so she mostly had been able to ignore him. If Malfoy maintained his polite demeanor tonight, she would try to do the same. Perhaps Hermione could keep the conversation going long enough to help Ginny succeed in her rebound and not make Malfoy feel like dragging Blaise away.
Hermione took a deep breath, throwing her hair over a shoulder to get it out of her way. She was the only seated Gryffindor, after all. Best to pull out that courage now.
“So, Malfoy, what have you been up to? I haven’t heard much since our last year at Hogwarts.”
Malfoy finally made brief eye contact with her before glancing once more at his own hands wrapped around his glass. She had assumed he would have said something antagonistic, perhaps about her line of boring conversation. She was pleasantly surprised by the clear shift in demeanor compared to young Malfoy, though a bit intrigued as to why he was working to mask his clear nerves, and why he was nervous to begin with.
His reaction was one of someone who didn’t know how to respond or didn’t want to be seen in a bad light. His brows were furrowed slightly, but his biggest tell was the deep breath, in and out, that he took before daring to answer. His hands were a little shaky as he swept his fringe out of his eyes. If Hermione didn’t know better, she would define his emotions as jumpy or worried. She quickly filed that away as new synapses fired in her brain, trying to piece together this new Malfoy she was interpreting.
“I…haven’t been up to much,” Malfoy said. When Hermione opened her mouth to protest, he said quickly, “Besides trying to amend the Malfoy name and route our vaults to better causes, trying to move away from all that Death Eater support and propaganda, y’know…” he trailed off. “What about you, Granger? What have you been up to in the last few years?
If it was anyone else but Hermione Granger, they might not have noticed the way his hand tightened around his empty glass or the way his knee continued to bounce anxiously. He clearly was nervous, but well-versed in hiding his emotions. Hermione decided to be polite and ignore both, though her eyes were dangerously drawn to his long fingers cradling the condensation-soaked glass. He had beautiful hands.
“Not much of anything, really,” Hermione said.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, “I don’t believe you, Granger. I’ve seen the articles in the Prophet about your new laws around werewolf rights and the way you’ve been supporting the reformation of the Wizengamot. Don’t be diffident.”
Hermione was momentarily surprised. She did frequently play down her accomplishments, especially when she was dating. It was easier to be coy about her achievements when she was first getting to know someone so she didn’t scare them away, something that had happened frequently following the war.
Hermione switched tactics and smiled, wondering if Malfoy realized the hand he had revealed. For a split second, she debated going down this road internally. It was clear that he had been following her work and was, at the very least, slightly more tolerant about her general being than he had been in the past. Hermione smirked to herself while staring down at the table, silently congratulating herself for the win.
“Been following my work, Malfoy? Why bother asking if you’ve known all along what I’ve been up to?”
Malfoy said nothing. He gave her an awkward head nod followed by a silent toast of his empty glass, his cheeks covered in pink.
“Of course, I had to keep up on the Golden Girl. Only a fool wouldn’t. I’m particularly proud of predicting the Wizengamot changes you made a full week before it was announced in the Prophet. Good work there, Granger,” Malfoy said quietly, cheeks still pink.
Hermione smiled, flattered that he seemed to hold that high of an opinion of her work. Before she could express her appreciation, Ginny and Blaise joined them again.
“—here ya go, ‘Mione. This one’s called the bubbling cauldron. Tastes awful and cost me a tenner. And Malfoy, whiskey on the rocks. I guess you can take the Pureblood out of the wizarding world but…” Ginny said, sliding in next to Hermione with Blaise following closely behind.
Malfoy, surprisingly, let out a laugh before lifting his fresh glass in a mock toast. “Well, here’s to taking the Pureblood out of the wizarding world more often, I suppose.”
All four of them toasted and took a sip of their drinks.
“So,” Blaise began, adjusting his sheathed sword. “What brings two of the most beloved witches to a muggle club on Halloween?”
“Well, an attempt to escape the press as usual for me and a first foray back into the dating scene post-Chosen One for her, respectively,” Hermione smirked, both boys looking amused at the straightforward answer. Ginny cackled, taking a deep pull from her cocktail.
“And what about the two of you? What are you doing in a club in the muggle world?” Ginny asked.
“Ah, I’m just along for the ride,” Blaise said, nodding towards Malfoy. “He just recently purchased this establishment and I’m helping decide a few modifications.”
Malfoy stretched his arm across the back of the booth. Hermione tracked the movement, watching his fingers tap away across the vinyl.
“Purchased? Really?” Hermione couldn’t help but question, staring at Malfoy’s angelic face.
That was when Malfoy finally put his whole attention on her. Up until that point, he had been nervously glancing, barely maintaining eye contact, seemingly uneasy. Now, however… eyebrows quirked and fingers drumming, he met her eyes for a long moment, clearly amused by her questioning. She met his gaze until she had to blink, tilting her head in thought. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that in the moment their eye contact was broken, his eyes ran over her hair, her neck, her shoulders, her chest… though it was clear he was checking her out, the whole moment lasted no more than three seconds. She would’ve missed it if she wasn’t the ever-perceptive Hermione Granger. Hermione shivered, surprised at the fact that Draco Malfoy was checking her out. She hadn’t felt that amount of interest from someone in who knows how long. She couldn’t stop to process what exactly that meant coming from him in particular, but it surprisingly did not feel unwelcome. In fact, she only grew more fascinated with the blond across from her.
Malfoy’s cheeks were once more flushed pink before he met her eye again and said, “Yes. It’s just prudent. A lot of the work I’ve done in the last few years has involved building ties to the Muggle world through my company, Malfoy Industries. The advancements they’ve made in the last few years alone is all the proof I need that the wizarding world should be more closely tied to muggles.”
Hermione’s intrigue just grew stronger with that statement, but she continued to sip her drink nonchalantly. “How interesting.”
Ginny snorted. “I can hear your giant brain thinking from here, Hermione. Blaise, let’s leave them to it. Fancy a dance?” Without waiting for an answer, Ginny stood up and reached out for Blaise’s hand. Though he looked surprised, he pulled her towards him and led them to the dance floor.
Malfoy and Hermione were alone once again. The silence between them was stilted. Malfoy’s cheeks were pink still, and Hermione could feel that her own had heated up at Ginny’s comment.
“So,” Hermione began, not sure where to carry the conversation. “What exactly are you dressed up as?”
Malfoy, surprisingly, let out a chuckle. Hermione couldn’t help but smile and stare at the mouth that made the sound. It was a lovely noise, throaty and light but something that made Malfoy look young and innocent. Happy.
“This is all Pansy- do you remember Pansy Parkinson--? Right, of course you do,” Malfoy ducked his head, looking embarrassed. “She’s around here somewhere. This whole evening was planned by her. She decided that buying a muggle club meant we had to experience it ‘like the customer’. Pretty sure she was just looking for an excuse to drink away from one of our flats.”
Hermione smiled, decidedly ignoring the idea that Pansy Parkinson might be nearby. Time had changed them all, hopefully. “So are you and Pansy still….? Whatever you were in school?” She tacked on a wave her hand, not exactly sure why she was asking.
“Oh Merlin, no. That ended long ago, before the war. In fact, Pansy is married to my good friend Theo. You might remember him? He was often just behind you in class ranking,” Malfoy said, half-smiling at her. It seemed he was becoming a bit more comfortable talking with her. His fingers had finally stopped drumming.
“Oh yes, I couldn’t forget him. He beat me in our Arithmancy revisions our eighth year!” Hermione furrowed her brow angrily, remembering the brown haired Slytherin. It still rankled her.
Malfoy let out another, louder, chuckle. Definitely becoming more at ease. “That’s right. I gave him a bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey as congratulations for beating the Golden Girl finally. He tried for years, you know. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
Hermione laughed along with him. In this moment, the Malfoy she recalled from school seemed like a completely different person. The Malfoy she was laughing with now seemed friendly, albeit a little awkward, and easy to talk to.
“Well, anyway, that didn’t really answer my question,” Hermione said, gesturing to Malfoy’s outfit. “What are you, exactly?”
Malfoy’s cheeks once again turned pink and he choked slightly on the sip of his drink he was taking. “Right. Pansy. She wanted me to go as an angel,” Malfoy gave a giant eye roll, “but I wouldn’t let her charm my clothes white. I look like death in white. Black is much more my color. So I suppose I’m an ‘angel of darkness’.”
Hermione laughed again, making Malfoy’s cheeks turn even redder. “It fits. And I supposed it’s better looking than a pirate. But you know,” Hermione paused, quickly deciding if she was ready to lump the two of them together even more and push the boundaries a bit, “this means you and I are quite the pair. Both of us fallen angels.”
Malfoy didn’t say anything. With his glass half raised to his mouth, he just looked at her. Hermione began to squirm under the intensity of his eye, unsure if she had said something too flirty. She knew it was perfect when he finally gave her a crooked smile before blinking and taking a sip.
The night continued and Hermione was pleased to find that she was having a wonderful time with Ginny and the Slytherins. Conversation flowed easily between the four of them and they took turns buying rounds of drinks. Even Pansy and Theo popping by the booth for a few minutes- looking a bit disheveled- had been pleasant enough. It seemed like all of the Slytherin’s had gone through a lot of growth since their youth. A war would do that to you, Hermione thought to herself.
Though not blatantly flirting like Blaise and Ginny, it seemed that Hermione and Malfoy had a quick-witted rapport and could easily navigate serious topics of conversation and fast-paced banter. They spent the evening in conversation with moments of embarrassing each other with what could be called friendly flirting.
When Hermione and Malfoy approached the bar to buy the latest round, Malfoy’s cool hand pressed into her lower back in the queue, causing her to shiver. When she looked up at him as they waited, his eyes were already on hers. When he saw her looking, he gave her a big smile. “I’m glad we ran into you tonight, Granger,” was all he said, but his fingers were tapping across her lower back like they did across his glass.
Hermione found she completely agreed. She smiled at him widely and said, “Me too,” before gently bumping him with her hip.
When they returned with the latest rounds of drinks, Ginny and Blaise were pressed up next to each other in the booth, arms wrapped around each other. When they approached, they separated, but only slightly. Hermione was happy that her friend’s rebound seemed to be working out.
“So,” Ginny said, breathing a bit heavily before taking a sip of her drink, “This might be our last round. I think we’ll be heading out after this one. Right, Blaise?” She glanced a little uncertainly at the man before reaching out for his hand.
“Er, yes. I think we’ll be taking our leave after this one,” Blaise shook off the uncertainty in his voice before saying, “Though, Draco, I think The Green Frog gets my seal of approval!”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, sliding in next to Hermione and pressing his leg fully against hers. “Glad to hear it, Blaise. Though I’ve drank with you in some seedy establishments in Knockturn, so I can’t say that your approval is necessary.”
As the four began to finish their drinks, Malfoy got up to speak to the manager about closing duties. As soon as he was away from the table, Blaise turned to Hermione with pleading eyes.
“Hermione, this has been a lovely evening. I do hope we can do something like this again. It appears us snakes have been missing some Gryffindor shenanigans in our life. However…I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but I feel like you should know something about Draco,” Blaise said quickly while the two witches leaned in to hear him, surprised at the sudden turn in conversation.
Hermione’s heart simultaneously raced and sunk. She was just beginning to imagine where her night with Malfoy might end up. The banter and energy they had between them was perfect enough to pique her interest even more, and she had been more than willing to see what might happen next if she continued her connection with Malfoy outside of the club. Was she about to be let down? “Do go on, Blaise. Patience isn’t my strong suit.”
“Well,” Blaise began, clearing his throat. “This feels very un-Slytherin to say, and Draco would skin me alive if he knew I was speaking about it, but… have you noticed Draco seems nervous this evening?”
Hermione had noticed since they first joined them at their booth. The beginning part of the evening had Malfoy tapping his fingers, blushing frequently, and unable to maintain eye contact with her. Even as the drinks and conversation had begun to flow more easily, there were still some awkward pauses in conversation where Malfoy didn’t seem to know quite what to do with himself.
“Yes, I suppose I have.”
“Well,” Blaise said nervously, glancing sideways at Ginny. “That might be because he has carried a torch for you since approximately third year.”
Ginny, mid-swig of her final cocktail, did a spit take and shouted, “WHAT?”
Hermione was frozen still. Her brilliant brain couldn't process and understand the words Blaise had just said. She could only assume she misheard him.
“I know it sounds crazy, but he has. Even when his family was still on their Pureblood bullshite, he had feelings. He admitted to it during a Veritaserum party in fifth year. It contributed to him and Pansy breaking up back in school actually,” Blaise said all this quickly, like ripping a plaster off.
“I….can’t believe this. I don’t know what to say,” Hermione said, feeling her heart pounding a million beats per minute but her brain processing a million times faster than that.
“I know, it’s a lot. I’m not saying he’s in love with you or anything, but he’s always had a bit of a covert crush on you. When he saw you here tonight, he said, ‘shit, she’s still as beautiful as ever, isn’t she?’ and proceeded to throw back his entire drink. So whatever you were thinking about him and the rest of your evening, go easy on him, yeah? He’s one of my best friends and underneath it all, a good person. I know it hasn’t always seemed like it but….yeah,” Blaise finished his lecture as they saw Malfoy ducking out of the back room and heading towards them.
“That is a lot of fucking information, Blaise! Hermione, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Ginny asked, hitting her hand across Blaise’s shoulder and making him flinch.
“No…no, I’m okay. That’s a lot to think about. But I agree, Malfoy does seem like a good person. I’ve had a good time tonight. Thanks for letting me know, Blaise,” Hermione said breathily, her brain clearly somewhere else besides this conversation.
“Hermione, are you sure? Do you want me to stay here with you? Don’t worry, I can leave this dunce behind if needed,” Ginny asked, glaring in Blaise’s direction. Blaise had the wherewithal to look guilty at the sneak attack of information.
Hermione took a deep breath. “No, I promise I’ll be ok. I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night. Honestly, Blaise, I appreciate the information. Hopefully we can see each other again soon,” Hermione said with a wink. Though that was a lot of information to receive, she couldn’t deny that she had enjoyed her evening thus far with Malfoy. It wouldn’t hurt to see her friend off and say goodnight to Malfoy, giving him a chance to show her what his next move might be, if there was one at all.
Malfoy sat back down next to Hermione, his thigh once again pressing against hers and his arm curling around the back of the booth, barely sweeping across her hair. The minutest touch made goosebumps break out across her shoulders.
Blaise and Ginny finished the last of their drinks and bid their friends goodbye. Hermione gave both a hug, even whispering a quiet “thank you,” to Blaise and a “go get him, tiger,” to Ginny, before returning to her drink and the booth beside Malfoy while he shook Blaise’s hand and gave Ginny an awkward side hug.
Another beat of silence passed between the two. From Hermione’s perspective, she was still trying to quickly process the onslaught of information Blaise threw her way in the last few minutes. She could see Malfoy was once again feeling nervous, because his fingers were tapping on his glass again and his knee is bouncing. Without thinking, she reached out and held his leg still. He twitched under her hand but then froze, not moving a muscle.
“Well,” Hermione said, not releasing her hand from his leg. “Then there were two.”
Malfoy smiled, clearly a little tense, “Indeed. Two fallen angels. Who knows what trouble they will cause.”
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. “Honestly, I can’t cause any more trouble tonight. I’m a terrible devil. I’ve had too much to drink and way too long of a day in the office. Walk me to the Apparition point, Malfoy?”
Malfoy looked over her face but didn’t say anything for a beat before breathing out a quick, “Okay. Sure.”
Hermione beamed at him. He had been awfully kind the whole evening, albeit a little awkward. “Thank you.”
As they left the club and walked down the near-deserted road, Hermione was reminded that it was the end of October. The drizzling rain had begun, and she could see her breath as she walked. She felt goosebumps erupt and shivered, cursing the lowered hem of her dress.
She heard Malfoy mutter by her side and she instantly warmed from head to toes.
“A wandless warming charm, Malfoy? Really?” Hermione smiled up at him once again, feeling oddly light and excited. “You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Malfoy smirked back, hands in his pockets. “Only the Brightest Witch of her Age would be impressed by something like that, obviously.”
Hermione smiled again, mostly to herself. The whole evening had been a learning experience, her brain constantly trying to make the connection between the new Malfoy and the one who teased her throughout school. She wasn’t sure exactly when, but she believed that monumental shifts had occurred in her former enemy. The man in front of her had been nothing but kind, docile, and slightly awkward all night. While they had toed the line of flirtatious, he had never been pushy or rude towards her. The thought of getting to know him better sent a flutter of excitement through her belly.
Hermione suddenly stopped walking, realizing Malfoy wasn’t next to her anymore. Looking back at him, he had his hands in his pockets still and a deep furrow to his eyebrows, clearly also lost in thought. They had reached the Apparition point.
“Well, Malfoy. Thanks for making my Halloween unexpectedly wonderful. It was great seeing you again after all these years,” Hermione said, tentatively reaching her hand out to touch his arm, testing the waters.
Malfoy let out a barely audible breath of air before leaning slightly in towards Hermione. “Same, Hermione. It was one of the better Halloweens I’ve had, particularly due to your costume choice,” he grinned at her, eyebrows waggling as he eyed her up and down in a teasing manner. Hermione laughed, easing back into her new understanding of Malfoy.
“So…” Hermione said, shuffling her feet and waiting to see what Malfoy would do next.
“So…” Malfoy moved his fingers through his damp fringe, clearly a nervous tell. “Would you…would you like to come back to mine for a nightcap?” Malfoy said this quickly, glancing around them and once again not looking directly at her.
Hermione couldn’t contain her smile. After everything she had learned about Malfoy this evening, she would like nothing more than to continue getting to know him.
But all she said was, “Sure, sounds great.”
She reached out to take his arm and pretended not to notice the way it twitched under her grasp before relaxing. She smiled once again, mostly to herself. She could have fun with Malfoy, she thinks.
After the quick discombobulated feeling of Apparition, Hermione opened her eyes and let’s go of his arm before stepping into what is clearly his living room.
For one of the first moments of the evening, Hermione is completely thrown off from what she is experiencing.
She would have predicted vaulted ceilings and leather furniture, nods to his Slytherin roots in color choices. Perhaps some priceless art, but no clutter. She might have anticipated masculine, yet cold, touches throughout his living space, making it feel like a museum.
She was pleasantly surprised by what she saw instead. One wall completely covered from top to bottom in bookshelves, many familiar Muggle authors peeking out amongst the potion’s books. A beat down couch and two cozy armchairs framed a large fireplace, reminding her very much of the Gryffindor common room. Delightful clutter, mostly in the form of books, picture frames, and parchment, on the coffee table. There were even miniature pumpkins for décor, a nod to the holiday. The only word in her brain was ‘cozy’ and dare she say she could imagine spending a cold winter evening here.
What really did her in was the photos lining the bookshelves and hanging on the walls. Frames upon frames of vibrant art and photographs of clearly personal moments. Just from where she was standing, she could see a framed photo of Theo and Pansy’s wedding, Blaise and Draco laughing with their arms around the happy couple; his parents with a small smile and arms around a young Draco; even a photo of him, Crabbe, and Goyle on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. It was clear that Malfoy had a bit of a sentimental spot within him to have all of these on display in his living area. Hermione’s heart ached at the very thought, unexpectedly touched.
“So… a drink? I have Firewhiskey, some wine, even tea if you’d prefer…” Malfoy was busying himself over by his bar cart in the corner, avoiding her eye contact. Hermione rubbed her hand across her chest, still feeling touched by the peek into his private life she was being allowed.
“Tea sounds wonderful, Malfoy,” Hermione said, approaching a nearby bookshelf to read the titles.
“Right. Be right back then,” Malfoy headed into an adjoining kitchen.
Hermione continued to assess her surroundings. For some reason, seeing this intimate peek into his personal life combined with the confessions of Blaise, Hermione’s heart was beating wildly for the man in the kitchen. She could see so many changes from who he was years ago, and it just made her more curious about who he was now. Always one to be intrigued by a puzzle, she wanted to piece together all that had been revealed and would continue to be uncovered when it came to him.
“Er, right, I didn’t know what kind you preferred, but I have pretty much everything. Chamomile, Earl Grey, Jasmine, some sleepy time…” Malfoy said while using his wand to float the tea tray over to the coffee table, resting it upon a stack of papers.
“Right. Thank you, Malfoy. This looks lovely,” Hermione said, still in awe with the way her brain felt like it was crackling with each new piece of information about him.
It wasn’t until Malfoy began to pour the hot water over her chosen tea bag (Earl Grey, her favorite) that Hermione realized his hand was shaking. A few drops spill out of the cup and onto the tea tray.
Hermione smiled, feeling both emboldened and endeared to this man. “Nervous, Malfoy?”
Malfoy huffed out a laugh before meeting her eyes. “More than you can believe, I assure you.”
It’s a moment that feels both poignant and like it’s happening in slow-motion in Hermione’s brain. She cannot believe the effort, the information, the kindness she has seen from Draco Malfoy this evening. She cannot wait to see what else he has in store for her.
With that little laugh, she wastes no more time. She’s decided what she wants and is now eager to get it. She moves across the couch, perfunctorily pushing him down so he is seated, and quickly spreads herself across his lap before leaning in.
He hardly manages a “what’re you doing, Grang—" before her lips are covering his.
Their first kiss is nothing more than a peck, a long press of their lips together, her lips asking a question of his- is this alright? Does he feel the same?
The few moments he doesn’t move feel like an eternity to Hermione, but she holds ground determinedly. But then his shaking hands are reaching to rest on her arms, and he’s pressing his lips back into hers. She smiles against his lips, instantly ready to deepen the kiss and move further.
Malfoy beats her to the punch, one hand resting across her back and one tracing up and down her arm. He quickly twists her, laying her down across the couch, before moving his hand to her hair and running his tongue across her lips, another silent question.
She obligingly opens to him, unable to stop the quiet hum of appreciation she gives when his tongue slides against her own. Intelligent witch that she is, she ignores the awkward huff of embarrassment he exhales when his nose bumps against hers a little too hard, instead pulling his face a little closer to her own. Despite his nerves, he continues to explore her mouth, running one hand through her hair and one tracing her side through her dress.
The moment is wonderful, but Hermione can’t help but be impatient for more. She swivels her hips forward, desperate for any sort of friction. Malfoy obliges instantly, moving his (delightfully fit, Hermione thinks) thigh between her legs while lifting the back of her knee to bring her closer. In the back of her mind, she’s happily acknowledging that she allowed Ginny to shorten the hem of her Gryffindor red dress earlier that evening. She feels the delicious fabric of his black pants between her legs, and she knows she won’t last long, already feeling the build of anticipation hitting her.
She puts her hands on his chest, taking a moment to run them up and down appreciatively, before pushing him back gently.
Malfoy instantly stops, dropping his hold on her leg and leaning away. A bit breathlessly he says, “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”
Hermione snorts and rolls her eyes, “I’m not sorry. I want to keep getting carried away,” she leans in to him again, watching the flush of his cheeks when she kisses him gently before whispering, “Would you take me to your bedroom?”
Malfoy returns her kiss, then leans back, his infamous smirk causing a dimple to appear in his cheek. He reaches his hand out to caress her from ear to chin, then Apparates them to his bedroom.
If Hermione had more of her wits about her, she might be once again impressed by the design choices around her- lots of blues and neutrals- but she was too distracted by the ostentatiously large bed in the center of the room and the man who was still caressing her cheek, staring avidly at her like she might disappear at any moment.
“Are you sure?” Draco asks, a bit of vulnerability showing in his eyes.
It was Hermione’s turn to smirk before stepping back from him and reaching back for the zipper of her dress. In one quick movement she unzips the dress and shakes it over her hips, letting it pool around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but a pair of lacy red knickers and her heels.
Stepping out of her dress and doing nothing to hide the wicked grin that builds when Draco’s jaw goes lax from staring at her, she takes off her horns and shakes out her curls before stepping back towards him and saying, “Absolutely.”
Never had a man looked at her the way Draco was looking at her now. Mouth openly gawking and eyes wide and hardly blinking, he reached out to grab her hand without taking his eyes off her body, roaming from her legs, to her hips, across her breasts, before reaching her face once again. Then, his eyes roam from hers and back across her body, seemingly unable to decide where his gaze should be.
“Merlin,” he breathes, clearly at a lose for words. It makes Hermione feel like the most powerful and beautiful person.
Still holding her hand, he guides her to the edge of the bed, pushing her back so she is seated and facing him. She takes a deep breath and shakes out her curls again, watching him.
His hands move to unbutton his shirt, before she reaches up to help, eager to see more of him. His stomach clenches when her fingers brush against the button loops. He pulls the shirt from his shoulders and Hermione is silent, drinking him in. He has a slim build, muscles obviously defined from his forearms to his abs, clearly built like a Seeker. Her eyes drink in the faded Dark Mark, the small Sectumsepra scars, and several other unknown blemishes, making him look more rugged and dangerous than even his fallen angel costume made him seem. A perfect whisper of blond hair over his lean muscles lays across his chest and down, past his belly button, a beautiful V leading down below his black trousers. Hermione’s mouth goes dry and she can’t contain the quiet, “Oh,” that comes out of her mouth.
Draco acknowledges the noise with a tiny smile before leaning in to kiss Hermione again before quickly making his way down her neck. His hands never stop roaming, never stop touching her and it’s no time at all before they are moving to her breasts, his hands skimming and swiping across the most sensitive parts, before he follows the path with his tongue.
He doesn’t stop there, feeling and moving ever lower, down across her belly, his hands running and racing and his tongue tasting and savoring. Hermione can’t help but lean in to every movement she feels, his hands and mouth igniting a path of flames wherever they touch. Her breath grows heavy and the quiet moans that escape her mouth are the loudest noises in the room.
When he pushes her to lay across the bed before wrapping his arms behind both her thighs to pull her closer to him, Hermione can’t help but let out another quiet, “Oh.” Then, he’s kneeling between her legs and tracing the lace detail at the top of her underwear.
Feeling like her intelligence has left her, it finally clicks what he is planning to do. Sitting up on her elbows to stare down at him she quickly moves her curls out of her face before saying, “Draco, you don’t have to do that, if you don’t want to. I know that’s pretty intimate and only one person has ever before—”
He cuts her off with a dark look, “Hermione, there is nothing I want to do more than feel you come across my tongue. Please, let me. It would be an absolute privilege.”
Completely shocked by the sudden filthy words he just said while his fingers continued to trace the gusset of her knickers, Hermione almost explodes right then and there. Instead, she takes a shaky breath and nods, laying back once again, thrilled where the evening has taken her.
Draco’s hands continue to trace near, around, and over her knickers. She feels the press of fingertips against her hips, across the most inner part of her thigh, and over and over again across the lace. Finally, after her knuckles are white from where they have dug into the blankets around her and she’s about to explode from impatience, she feels his fingers hook around the sides of her panties.
“May I, Hermione?”
She glances down, seeing the most sinful smile on his face and dark eyes staring straight into her.
It’s all she can do to let out a breathless, “Yes. Please.”
With that, he slowly pulls the sides of knickers down, guiding them over the swell of her hips and down further, across the spikes of her heels she is still wearing. Once they are completely off, she glances down at him once again, eager to see the expression in his eyes.
The look he gave Hermione, eyes slowly roving from between her legs, up her stomach and her chest, and to her eyes, was intense enough to make Hermione feel like he was staring in to her soul. An uncontrollable blush lit up her cheeks.
“Merlin, Hermione, look at you,” he says darkly.
With that, he attached his mouth gently to her inner thigh, then licked a strip across her lips. Hermione was electrocuted, suddenly all feeling throughout her body coming from her center. A moan escaped her mouth before she could feel any bit of embarrassment.
His fingers joined his tongue, moving over everywhere slowly except the one place she wanted it most. Her thighs and toes tightened in anticipation of that moment, curling and uncurling in time to the broken sentences he was stating between licks and nips.
“Salazar, look at you… no idea how long I’ve wanted to… unbelievable… the most perfect witch, moaning for it, yes, love….”
It was that term of endearment that made Hermione keen forward, a long and low moan escaping. She grabbed onto Draco’s hair and pressed him even further against her, unable to say anything but, “More, Draco, please,” before hooking her heels around the back of his shoulders to lock him into place.
And more he gave her. After what had been at least ten minutes but felt more like hours to Hermione, his lips met her most sensitive part as his fingers pressed inside of her and curled forward, working in unison with the moans that escaped her as everything she didn’t think could build any further built and built and built until she finally felt that beautiful feeling, more explosive than ever before, take over her. She keened, letting out a long, low moan, as Draco continued his ministrations until her heels finally released and she tapped his head where she had been tugging his hair.
As he came to lay by her, she dragged him further up the bed until their heads were resting on the same pillow. She quickly removed her heels before wrapped a leg over his, leaning into kiss any body part she could find, finally stopping at his lips where she could taste herself on him.
“That was-“ she punctuated her sentence with a bite of his lips, “-amazing. Thank you.”
He rumbled a laugh before chasing her lips and tongue for several moments, hands caressing her cheek and her waist.
“I agree, it was amazing. I would do that a million times in a million different ways, Hermione. I want to make you feel so good. I would do anything to make you feel like you deserve,” Draco said the last part quietly, vulnerability obvious in his tone.
Hermione, having felt wrung out from his amazing performance moments before, suddenly found herself wet again at his words and eager to continue on. She also carefully ignored the strike of optimistic excitement that settled around her heart, thinking of the truth he might have in his words. Best to take things slow.
“Well, I don’t know about a million, but I’m sure we can find time to do that a dozen or so more times in the near future,” she gave him a cheeky grin before throwing more of herself over him, purposefully dragging her hips over his still clothed bottom half. He groaned.
Kneeling over him, she slowly undid the button and the zipper on his trousers, being sure to brush her knuckles across his package. He groaned again and gripped her waist tightly. Hermione hoped he left a bruise, some proof that this was actually happening. She still couldn’t believe circumstance had led her here, to Draco Malfoy’s bedroom, tonight.
After ridding him of his trousers, she was left facing his black pants. She raised an eyebrow at him, unsurprised that he was wearing black from head to toe, before running her hands quickly up and down his length, feeling him in her hand and making him shudder.
She quickly pulled down his pants, her impatience obvious and in stark contrast to the patience he treated her with earlier. She let out a quiet exhale of breath when she saw it, delighted with the size. Much like the rest of him, Draco’s dick was rather beguiling. She couldn’t help but wrap her fingers around his girth, seeing his hiss of breath as she pulled back the foreskin to see more of the weeping tip. Ever curious, Hermione tested out a few different strokes before running her tongue along the circumference, earning a long groan from him before he grabbed a handful of her hair.
She relaxed her mouth, sinking on to him until she couldn’t go any further, before pulling up to sweep across the head again. Her hand moved with her, matching the pace she set, giving a twist as she neared the head. She repeated her movements over and over again, loving the way she could hear Draco’s ragged breathing and feel his nails scrape into her scalp, almost hurting.
When she shifted so her hand lightly teased over his ball sack and her mouth picked up pace, Draco grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off of him with a soft pop.
“You need to stop,” he said, pulling her up and running his nose against the outside of her ear, tracing the shape, “Or I’m going to come.”
Hermione pouted before asking, “What if I wanted you to come like that?”
Draco stilled, before groaning and reaching out to twist lightly at her nipple. “No. The first time I come I want it to be inside you, with you.”
It was Hermione’s turn to groan lightly before scraping her nails down his perfect chest. She couldn’t wait any longer. Kneeling over him once again, she reached her hand around him and guided him towards her damp center. Knowing she needed to feel him right now, she quickly sank all the way down on him. A chorus of groans echoed between the two. Her hands found his chest before lifting herself up, up, almost off, before sinking down again. One of his hands rested on her hips, digging in like he wanted to leave marks, while the other surrounded her breast, thumb sweeping across the tip. She set the pace as best as she could, almost lifting off of him completely before dropping back down again.
The build within her core was lightning quick. When her pace began to stutter and her gasps became louder, Draco sat himself up and leaned against the headboard, Hermione still draped over his lap. From here, he felt even deeper within her, and she told him just that. Draco groaned again before holding on to her hips with both hands, lifting her up and pressing her down at an even faster pace than Hermione could control. She felt like putty underneath his hands, like all she could do was hang on and enjoy the ride.
Hermione felt her next explosion building, getting closer to release. With her hands on Draco’s shoulders, she helped lift and drop, moving her hips to feel him against the deepest part of her. She looked at Draco, her lips parting to tell him that she was going to come, but the orgasm ripped through her before she could get the words out. She let out a guttural yell and a sound that somewhat resembled, “Draco,” before collapsing against him, running her tongue and lips over his neck and aftershocks making her clench around him.
Moments later, Draco followed, emptying himself inside of her and hugging her body close to him before shouting, “Hermione.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, locked together and hugging, before Draco lifted Hermione off of him. He cast a cleansing charm and a contraception charm, laid her down under the covers, and leaned over to give a gentle kiss to the top of her breast above her heart.
Hermione smiled. She was so glad she decided to accompany Ginny to the club, and she tells Draco just that, giving him a kiss on the cheek before closing her eyes to sleep, both too exhausted from the evening to say much more.
The next morning, Hermione is awoken to a chill in the air. It definitely feels like winter is coming she thinks to herself. She’s then reminded of what transpired last night, feeling the evidence of someone wrapped around her waist and tangled in her legs, as well as the telltale soreness between them. Before opening her eyes, she’s overcome with a strong sense of comfort and happiness.
Stretching slightly, she opens her eyes to the room around her. A small fireplace in the corner is lit, reminding her once again of how cozy the space is around her. She’s buried beneath a thick white comforter. She sees her devil dress on the floor and smirks before looking down to see Draco, already smiling and looking at her, draped across her chest and arm.
“Good morning,” he says in a rough voice, and Hermione’s heart contracts with how instantly she knows she wants to hear his morning voice over and over again. “How’d you sleep?”
Hermione smiles yet again, aware of how dopey she must look, but she can’t seem to help it. “Wonderful. This bed is ridiculous, you know. I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud.”
Draco chuckles, tracing his finger over her side, “Pfft. As if the devil would ever be permitted to sleep on a cloud.”
Hermione traces her fingers across Draco’s shoulder before leaning in for a kiss. Morning breath be damned. “I should probably tell you, I don’t think last night would’ve happened without your lovely friend Blaise.”
Instead of looking thrilled, Draco looked suspicious. His fingers stop their ministrations across her stomach, instead holding a grip on her hip. “Honestly, don’t tell me. Blaise spent half the evening kicking me under the table or muttering under his breath that I shouldn’t be such a wuss. I can only imagine what he said to you to get you to my house.”
Hermione ran her hands across his chest before saying, “Oh trust me, he doesn’t deserve that much credit, but he did help me see a few things a bit more clearly. I’ll tell you some other time. Though we probably should buy him a round the next time we go to the club.”
Draco rolls his eyes, “I own the club. He already drinks for free. He’s a meddler.”
Draco rests his head against her chest, running his hands along her waist once more. His fingers tick in a way that seems like nerves. Hermione glances at his face, realizing he hasn’t seemed nervous since he spilt the tea the previous night. His eyes are closed and he’s taking paced breaths. Her eyebrows furrow, about to ask him why, before he speaks.
“Hermione… I feel I need to be upfront with you. I’ve never felt so damn lucky and undeserving of someone. I don’t want to screw this up, but I’m also not usually this forthcoming. This is a lot to admit to after having just shagged last night, but I don’t want this to be just sex. If you feel like that’s what it is, please try to be honest with me now. I’d really prefer if we can have a real go at this. I can pick you up for dates and we can see our friends and give this a real shot, if you are interested. Of course, I'd understand completely if you aren't. I wouldn't blame you, but please try to tell me now,” He spoke this all quickly, like he was ripping off a plaster. He was struggling to keep his breathing even, and the hands around her waist were moving quickly, anxiously.
Her heart soared, leaping into her throat. She never would guess that this Slytherin would be that honest, but she was very grateful. Hermione set her hand against his cheek, moving his face to look at hers. “So what you’re saying is this wasn’t a one time thing? It wasn’t just a drunk Halloween one-night stand?”
He laughs, covering his hand over hers on his cheek, “Absolutely not. In fact, you might find you have a difficult time getting rid of me. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here for a Christmas copulation, a New Year’s shag, hopefully even a Valentine’s day screw. We’ll see about a birthday blowjob next June.”
She laughs, surprised by his frankness. “So I can’t see you until Christmas?” she says, teasing.
He shakes his head, clearly on to her games. “No, in fact, I was hoping I could get you to join me for breakfast this morning? Perhaps we could Floo Blaise and Ginny over and see if their evening ended up like ours.”
Hermione traced her hand across and down his stomach, teasing his upper hips. She feels the length of him jump against her thigh. “Perhaps we can make it a late brunch. I feel like I would like to have a November 1st nail instead.”
He grins, kissing her soundly, the offer forgotten for now. “Deal”.