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“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not doing it.”
“Hermione, dear, you’ve said that four times now-”
“Five.”
“Thank you, Ginny. You’ve said that five times now, you are not backing out. It’s for a good cause,” Pansy Nott neé Parkinson said, her voice a bit monotone but understanding, like explaining something for the final time to a child that wasn’t getting it.
The Brightest Witch of the Age was far from a child but that might be hard to tell for most because of the sheer amount of pouting she’d been doing for the last two hours so she supposed she couldn’t blame her two best friends for being thoroughly over her shit.
“For a good cause? Padma only organized this because she’s hoping Blaise will use this as a way to finally take her on a date. She’s convinced he needs a push. Something as barbaric as a human auction for charity seems like a rather absurd roundabout way to get that done when she could just ask him out herself,” Hermione said with a flourish of her hand.
Ginny snorted a laugh, “She’s nervous and Zabini is hot. Cut her some slack. He’s one of the last eligible wizards from our class, you know. They’re going like hotcakes. Can’t blame her for doing something a bit more dramatic,” the redhead said with a shrug, leaning next to pansy in Hermione’s vanity as the women worked on their makeup.
Hermione would be next in the seat, a proverbial tag team between the women to get some makeup on her face. ‘Proper’ makeup they said because she knew good and damn well how to do her own she just didn’t feel like it all of the time.
“Still, it seems rather…” Hermione started but trailed off, giving up on finishing the sentence and just waving a hand.
“Are you worried about who’s going to bid on you, Granger, is that it?” Pansy said. She straightened finally from the mirror looking satisfied and then turned to look at Hermione with a tilt of her head. The woman was gorgeous there was no denying that and it made Hermione agitated sometimes that she wasn’t gay. Pansy’s pitch black bob was iconic, and it helped that she was one of the single owner of a fashion line that spanned most of Europe these days and she had the amazing wardrobe to prove it. A bright red lip paired with a maroon gown, the woman’s runic tattoos danced dangerously up her arms, Pansy was a force to be reckoned with.
“No, it’s not that,” Hermione said. By comparison, Hermione had grown up a lot since their school years. She knew the perfect spells to straighten her hair but actually, she didn’t mind the kinkier, more natural look and curl pattern she had. She realized over time she had simply not understood her own hair and had tried to conform to beauty standards that didn’t fit her. Even now it was lovely, half down her back with defined, dark curls that she had gotten a few blonde highlights throughout a few years ago and kept up the look. The dress Pansy had loaned Hermione for this evening’s Ministry Date Auction was a dark, sparkling forest green, high neck, long sleeve but extremely tight to her body and the slit that danced up her leg was more daunting than the gap from one side of the Thames to the other.
“Then what is it, Hermione, because if I know anything, I know you can handle a little bit of spotlight when necessary.” And now Ginny Potter, hair in a lovely 1920s swoop and barrel curls, a strapless red gown adorning the Holyhead Harpy star’s frame, turning from the mirror with her hands on her hips in a stance that rivaled Molly Weasley’s and actually made Hermione pause at the similarity.
“It’s not….I mean…..surely……surely someone will…bid on me, right?” the witch stuttered out. It should have been obvious perhaps, but in the five years since the end of the war, Hermione’s love life had seen a lot of roller coaster action. She was no nun. She’d dated Ronald immediately after the war because it was ‘the right thing to do’ but eventually the passion and adrenaline of romance was revealed to simply be the will to survive and war. Without the constant plotting and planning and without having their lives on the line, domestication between Hermione and Ron had gotten stale to no one’s fault of their own. Now he was three years into dating Parvati and if Molly had her way, would soon be proposing.
From there, Hermione had a series of famous suitors. A French musician, a Brazilian heir to a broom making company, a top Mind Healer at Mungo’s, even the lead singer of a famous wizarding band. Nothing felt right. She wanted some mix of danger and intelligence, of excitement and peace and it sounded insane in her head but now she was about to be paraded up in front of all sorts of people and what if they just thought she was…too much.
Or they got intimidated, Merlin help her.
“Hermione that’s absolutely ridiculous! Of course someone will bid to go on a date with you! You’re you! It’s the chance of a lifetime for any of them. They’d be lucky to win,” Ginny insisted.
“But Ginny that’s like…I mean back in school girls were always throwing themselves at Harry, no offense, and sometimes when he did actually show them attention they panicked and ran for the hills. It’s one thing in theory it’s another thing to actually do it,” Hermione reasoned because she was definitely good at finding the logic in a thing, especially if it took down her already regular sized ego.
“No, Red, I think I get her point. Maybe she’ll scare everyone off,” said Pansy with a slow nod.
“Pansy! Not helping here,” Ginny said with a shake of her head.
“But…” damn it Pansy always had buts and schemed, “...that first and foremost means they’re too pussy to be bothered with anyways. If they aren’t willing to throw themselves at you, Granger, they aren’t good enough for you. You saved the wizarding world, you deserve the best. And second…I may have a contingency plan.”
Hermione grimaced but…”I do like a contingency plan.”
This was for a good cause after all but she hadn’t wanted to sign up in the first place. The Ministry was raising money for those left orphaned from the war, setting them up with funds they could access when they got older for additional schooling, medical treatment, anything they needed. It was a lovely display and she was proud to be a part of a community that still gave a damn even after five years and wanted to make a difference. Padma had apparently come up with this idea about auctioning off eligible bachelors and bachelorettes for dates - a fun, unique way to raise money and, apparently, get Zabini to notice her. She’d received a letter from Padma all but begging her to participate and for the longest time she’d said no.
And then last week happened. In a drunk whirlwind, the kind where her two best friends had soothed her with alcohol because one of her exes that she had been considering reaching out to just announced he was engaged to the woman he’d always told her not to worry about, Hermione had declared, ‘Well fffffuck ‘im ‘nd his new fianshay! I’ll…show him. ‘m gonna do that smfuckin date Ogden…auction’ and now here they were because drunk Hermione had owl’ed Padma and now there was no getting out of it.
Fuck drunk Hermione first off, because she’d gotten her into this situation and fuck sober Hermione because she couldn’t say no to a responsibility.
“Come sit down, let us pamper you a bit - Red can you open another bottle of wine - and I’ll tell you both the plan. It’s going to be flawless.”
Ginny saluted with a smirk and went to get the new bottle while Hermione shuffled over to the chair in front of the vanity, looking at herself in the mirror. Five years had made her jawline a little sharper, her figure more filled out and womanly. Back straight, shoulders back, her skin was Earthen rich and seemed to have a glow from underneath it and every time she thought these lovely things about herself she always paused at the eyes, because no matter how much older she got, no matter how much she lived new experiences from the war and continued to forge a path toward her future, there was no getting rid of the ever so subtle haze over them from a child grown up too soon.
☾
Hermione knew she looked great but she couldn’t help the slight upturn of her upper lip as she simply felt sick to her stomach. Pansy’s plan was a good idea, at least it’d save her from any humiliation, but she still had to go out on that stage and…parade herself. Even if she wasn’t keen to do this she had to admit, the night had gone amazingly so far. Once the girls had finished getting dressed they had Floo’d to the Ministry where the event was happening. Pansy swooped away instantly by her husband, Theodore Nott for a bit of dancing and mingling while Hermione intended to stick close to Ginny and Harry, the later of which had walked over with drinks for both women, muttering something about several people already asking him if he was going to be auctioning off a date for the night much to Ginny’s chagrin.
“I’d have let you if you wanted to. Just to watch you squirm up there a little,” Ginny teased.
Harry simply shook his head, hiding his blush from under his glass, “Hermione, save me please.”
“Save you? I’m the one that needs saving, Harry,” she reminded him.
He smiled, “You’re going to be brilliant. Nothing to worry about.” He’d always been this way, so confident and self assured but he was the Boy Who Lived. How could he not be?
“Hermione’s worried no one is going to bid on her,” Ginny whispered.
“Gin!” Hermione said, affronted.
“What? It’s the truth,” she said with an innocent shrug.
“That’s ridiculous, of course someone will bid on you they’d be stupid not to,” said Harry with a furrowed brow.
“See, Harry agrees.”
“Harry would agree with you if you said grass was pink,” Hermione said with a pointed scowl.
“Ok that’s true but-”
Ginny never finished as Ron and Parvati approached the group, “Hey you lot. How’s it going?” Ron said jovially. Hermione had to admit he just seemed…happier. Better with Parvati than he’d ever been with her and she was sincerely happy for him. She was smiling until Harry this time opened his mouth.
“Hermione thinks no one is going to bid on her,” said Harry, green eyes looking at Ron as if telepathically sending him a message.
“What? That’s ridiculous,” said Parvati.
“Yea, obviously Hermione’s going to get bid on. You look great by the way,” Ron added with a smile her way.
By now she was blushing, smoothing her hair down with a slightly shaking hand, “Thanks, Ron. And you too, Parvati. And, well, it’s just logistically I don’t know that anyone would bother. I’m too intimidating. I’m too…much,” she said, trying to elaborate.
“That’s a load of bollocks. These guys are going to fall over their feet for you as they should,” Parvati said. Hermione gave her a smile, even if it was a bit solemn before the announcer cleared their throat. The men were going first, all eligible bachelors in the back of the stage behind a curtain. At least she’d get to watch a little of how this would go before having to go up herself.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Please focus your attention to the stage as we begin the first annual Ministry of Magic Dating Auction!”
People began to clap as Hermione just stood but grumbled over to Ginny, “First annual implies this is every year. Do they really think it’s going to be that popular?”
“I guess we’ll see,” she said as the group moved toward the stage and the lights dimmed expect for a spotlight where the boys would be.
A moment later, Hermione felt a tug on the sleeve of her dress and saw a smirking Pansy sidle up beside her, Theodore on the other side of her with an arm around her waist. “Our plan is all set,” she whispered. Hermione sighed in relief as she nodded, giving Theodore a small wave.
She had gotten close to Pansy first, Hermione had been in a media flurry and the Slytherin girl had reached out asking for a meeting. That meeting had been met with a lot of apologies and clearing the air from school, and then Pansy had asked to dress Hermione a few times for public perception. She hadn’t been agreeable at first, why couldn’t she just wear what she wanted to, but she quickly learned it was all a game, being in the public eye. Certain outfits gave a certain impression or sent a message and Pansy knew how to do that better than Hermione. Theodore and Pansy had started dating about a year after school, engaged at two years, and now married. Hermione found Theodore to be incredibly bright and funny, if not a bit unserious when she really thought he ought to be, but he was extremely loyal and dedicated to Pansy and that made Hermione all the happier.
“First to the stage, please welcome Cormac McLaggen,” the announcer said excitedly. People began to clap, the excited anticipation of the evening ramping up and suddenly magical paddles appeared in all of their hands. Hermione wasn’t surprised Cormac was in this. His reputation preceeded him.
“Mr. McLaggen is 185 centimeters tall, liaison for the British Quidditch Team in the International Games and Sports, and equestrian enthusiast. He enjoys long broom rides, picnics, and watching muggle adventure movies. When he’s not working, Cormac loves to travel. A date with him promises to be fun, adventurous, and flirty. We’ll start the bidding at 15 galleons!”
Paddles began to fly up and Hermione saw a strange sight off to the side. She nudged Pansy and began to whisper in low tones, “Who’re those people over there?” she asked. Lined along a table, wizards and witches were writing furiously on charmed parchments but in the low light she couldn’t see what they were doing over there.
Pansy smirked, “Apparently there was so much interest in this, they are letting people bid from home. The parchments are charmed so they can write down how much they want to bid in real time. Crazy, right?”
“I see 15, 20, 30…do I hear 50!?” the auctioneer said. “50 going once…twice…sold to the woman in the back!” and the gavel came down.
Hermione looked behind them in the crowd. The witch in question was definitely in a different age bracket. A considerably different age bracket. She looked back at Cormac who had now paled but props to him he kept smiling and then hastily made his way to the back behind the curtain.
“Oh no, this is a bad idea. I’m not doing this, absolutely not,” Hermione said. What if someone old enough to be her father bought a date with her? Or someone even older than that? Wizards lived longer lives, what if she got someone over 100 years old?
“Six,” Ginny said beside her.
“What?” Hermione questioned, a bit perplexed as the anxiety settled into her bones.
“That’s six times now you’ve said you’re not doing it but here we are,” Ginny said with a smirk that rivaled Pansy’s. These two women were going to be the death of her.
“Just hush and let’s watch the rest of these bids and get drunk. Longbottom is next and I might bid on him,” Pansy said with a slight cackle as Theo only grinned along and leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek.
Kill her, they would, be at least it’d be entertaining on the way out.
☾
“Next to the stage, Padma Patil!” the auctioneer announced.
Hermione watched, now from behind the curtain with the rest of the corralled women as Padma checked her reflection one last time in the mirror they’d put off to the side before marching out confidently into the spotlight. Hermione felt like a sack of angry pixies all buzzing trying to find their way out. She had the purchase and capability to just leave. She was an adult who could make her own decisions but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to just go.
Suddenly she felt a soft, cool touch though the fabric of her dress and she jumped a bit, so lost in her head she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.
“Luna! Hi, there. You gave me a little bit of a scare,” she said. Her heart felt like it was about to thump clear out of her chest and across the room. That would surely stop the biddings, wouldn’t it?
“Oh, you aren’t scared of me. You’re just jumpy right now. I can see them all over the place,” Luna said with a sad smile.
Hermione had long ago stopped trying to reason out anything Luna said and instead just accepted it. Maybe the woman was on to something. Either way, every time Luna said ‘they’ were around Hermione believed she was talking about those Nargles but really it was just energy. Her aura was off. Luna was never wrong about it, and so even now Hermione just groaned in defeat, “I’m not surprised. I’m feeling anxious.”
“You have nothing to be worried about,” Luna said assuredly, patting Hermione on the back. She wasn’t sure what it was about the once-Ravenclaw but Hermione found her to be extremely soothing to her nerves. She never had liked Divination but there was something to be said about the ‘vibe’ of a person and Luna had a tendency to show up right when she needed her.
“I keep trying to tell myself that. Pansy and Ginny are sure someone is going to bid on me I just don’t know…who or…I shouldn’t base my self worth on how much but even that thought is creeping in. I mean you’re back here. Tell me I’m not crazy and you’re thinking it too,” she said.
“Everyone back here is feeling it. It’s not just you. It’s human nature. Even if you weren’t the Brightest Witch of the Age, you’re still very beautiful and charming. Without the titles and fanfare, he still thinks you’re wonderful.
Hermione sighed in relief. “Thanks, Luna. I-...wait….”
“Next to the stage…Miss Hermione Granger!”
What!?
“He? Luna who is he??” she asked, all but flailing as the woman’s once soft and delicate touch on her lower back suddenly got stronger as she nudged Hermione to the stage. When had the petite woman gotten so strong??
“It’s your turn. Go, go, go…” Luna said, grinning slightly and doing a horrible job of trying to hide it.
“Luna, did you start working out? What the-...no wait who is the he? What do you know?”
But it was too late. With a strong shove, Hermione was stumbling out onto the stage, directly into the spotlight to applause. First it was deer in the headlight as she searched quickly for a familiar face. First she saw Neville, towering over the others but next to him was Harry, Ginny…ok she could do this.
Back straight, shoulders back, Hermione began to walk slowly as they had been directed as the announcer listed off all she had accomplished in her life.
“Hermione Jean Granger, the very one who saved the wizarding world as we know it. Brightest Witch of the Age. Two Orders of Merlin First Class. Master Proficiency in Potions and Arithmancy. Currently she travels the world studying the lost art of Alchemy, the study of turning elements into gold.”
Well, it was a lot more than that but Pansy hadn’t let Hermione write out the literal definition so they’d made it a bit flowery and just left it at that. Currently Hermione was still walking and it was impossible to read anyone’s expressions as she did so in the green gown.
“Miss Granger enjoys reading books, spending time with her friends, studying, and learning new subjects. A date with her will prove to be mentally stimulating. She loves men who are witty, thoughtful, and is hoping for a date that sparks something new. That being said, do I hear-”
Before the auctioneer could finish, a voice from somewhere toward the back lifted his paddle and shouted, “300 galleons!”
Hermione stopped her walk, mouth gaping open at the ridiculously high bid. Had they said 300 and meant 30? Had people already started getting too drunk to realize what they were doing?
“T-three hundred galleons in the back! Do I hear-”
“350!”
“425!”
“575!”
Numbers were flying all over the place and Hermione was as still as a statue. She’d watched some of the other bids but she was fairly certain none had gotten this out of control. She looked over at the auctioneer who had all but lost control of the proceedings.
In the crowd Hermione finally spotted Pansy who looked like the cat who had caught the canary. Theodore slid back behind his wife as he waved at her once more with a dopey smile on his face and she realized that first urgent bid had been from him way in the back surrounded by people who hadn’t noticed who he was. Simple but brilliant.
“Do I hear 700 galleons!?” the auctioneer whooped and then Hermione looked over at that table in the dark, where bids were flying in on paper.
A woman had just stood up, shaking her parchment wildly to get the auctioneers attention. “Three thousand, five hundred galleons!”
No.
No.
No.
That had to be wrong. She was gobsmacked. She looked to Pansy wondering if this was some trick or ploy but for the first time in the years she’d known the woman she looked startled. Hermione’s gaze found Ginny’s who looked flabbergasted before the redhead started to laugh. Harry was the only one looking at Hermione with the same expression she had on her own face. Absolutely perplexed.
The auctioneer went red in the face as he screamed…“THREE THOUSANDS FIVE HUNDRED GALLEONS SOLD TO….”
Hermione, no the entire room, waited with bated breath to find out who had bid that absolutely ridiculous sum for a single date with her. The auctioneer looked down at their papers finding the name. It felt like it took a century to Hermione but it was only a matter of seconds as the name of the biggest spender of the night was revealed.
“Marcus Flint!” she shouted over as the crowd began to murmur, gasp, and talk animatedly.
Hermione stood still as a statue, suspended in the moment.
☾
Hermione Granger did not have many opinions on Marcus Flint, but Pansy sure did. After reeling for a bit longer, Hermione had made her way off of the stage and the auctions had continued but not with the same gusto as her moment. She’d stayed backstage for as long as she could but she knew her friends would want to speak with her.
The moment she left the comfort of the backstage she was hounded upon by the lot of them. Even Theodore was animatedly going back and forth with Pansy, dishing everything they knew to the mostly Gryffindor crew standing there in front of them on what they knew about Flint in the years since the war. It was like some strange class Hermione hadn’t signed up for but she had to admit, she was intrigued.
“Two years older than us.”
“What is he babe like, 5’10” or something?”
“Yes, about that. He grew into his looks Hermione, I promise. He’s not that bad on the eyes,” Theodore assured her.
“I’m not worried about that, I'm worried about what he wants with me,” Hermione exclaimed. Harry had just come back, shoving a glass of much needed champagne into her waiting hands and she gave him a sigh of appreciation, all that she could manage in the moment.
“I know he played pro in Australia for a little while, Beater position but left from that. He’s a trainer now I think, keeps the pros fit. Hell, last I saw him he was fit but he’s hardly ever home any more. He stayed in Australia I thought and owns a string of pubs there. I don’t even know how he’d have found out about this,” Pansy said. Hermione could tell her friend was getting frustrated. The woman was listing everything she remembered, Flint’s favorite color, his shoe size, all the gossip about him from school but nothing was making it clear as to why in the world he’d place bids on her this evening or how he even knew about the event.
Hermione sighed, a little line forming on her brow as she went into deep concentration. Her friends were all theorizing but then, slowly, she took a deep breath and lifted her hand quietly into the fray. Somehow it worked, soothing the storm of their confusion and everyone stopped to glance at her.
“The only way we’ll know for certain is if I go on this date and ask him, right? I love a good hypothesis as much as the next person but at the end of the day only he knows for certain. So whenever he schedules the date I’ll just…ask.”
Right? That seemed like the best thing to do. Ginny nodded, “Yes, that works. The dates have to be set up in the next two months or so. You have time.”
“I have time. I can not stress about this for two months or my hair is going to start falling out. Maybe, just this once, I'll let it be.” The small think-tank that had formed around her in a semi-circle seemed to consider it.
Theodore was the first to speak, “That sounds like a plan. Look, I don’t really talk to Marcus anymore, it’s been ages, but if I find something out I’ll be sure to tell you. I’m not gonna let him turn this into some…weird ass game.” Hermione knew good and well Theodore meant it.
“Right. If he’s trying to mess with you I’ll shove his wand up his arse,” Pansy tacked on. Hermione smiled, that had been in her head. Perhaps Marcus still held some old prejudices, perhaps he just wanted to rile her up, she had no clue. At least having those two verify a little bit would help so she didn’t waste a massive amount of her time stressing over this.
“Deal. Ok, thank you all. Alright now just erm…that’s it. Show’s over. I’m exhausted and I need my bed,” Hermione said with a laugh.
That seemed to disperse some of the tension in the moment. A few awkward laughs and everyone went back to regular conversation about the other bids for the night. Neville was going on a date with Daphne Greengrass which no one had seen coming. Padma had gotten a date with Oliver Wood but much to everyone’s chagrin when she had come from behind the stage Blaise had approached her immediately and asked her on a date sans making bids in the auction. Luna was going on a date with Hannah Abott which Hermione thought would be lovely.
Slowly, very slowly, she started to pull away, leaving the group with a few quieter goodbyes about being sleepy and before long she had on her coat and was making her way to the Floo.
“Miss Granger?”
Hermione stopped her walk, turned with a curious expression to see who was referring to her that way. The woman from the auction, the one with the bidding paper, was walking toward her, looking left and right hastily as if to make sure they’re alone. “Yes? Can I help you?” Hermione asked warily. She couldn’t help but to do several things warily nowadays, the ghost of war still imprinted in her with some of her mannerisms.
The woman smiled, “Congratulations on your date. That was a very intense bidding session.”
She wasn’t sure what there was to congratulate. She hadn’t done anything but stand. Rather than parse words she simply smiled, “Yes, that was a lot but I’m glad the money raised is going to something so wonderful,” she said sincerely.
The woman nodded again but then cleared her throat, “I’m to let you know…well your date would like to make a request.”
This was another reason Hermione didn’t like this at all. Marcus had spent an exorbitant amount of money on her and now what? He felt like he could tell her what to do?
Hermione scoffed, “What in Merlin’s name does Flint want?”
“He’d like for your date to be tonight. In about…the next five minutes or so.”
“You’re joking,” Hermione said bluntly.
The woman most definitely was not, “I was given very strict instructions. Only bid on you. No monetary limit. And then to invite you to your evening dinner date when it was done. He understands if you’d really rather not, but the terms of the contract, one date with you, would be completed this very evening if you’d like.”
That was a good point. It was what, going on 10pm now? It was late but she’d stayed out later than this partying after all. She was already dressed up and damn it if she wasn’t curious. She had no preconceived notions about Marcus Flint. Oh of course he’d been a bully in school but she was friends with the likes of Pansy and Theodore nowadays. They’d been children and manipulated into doing all kinds of things so she wouldn’t hold that over his head.
“Five minutes?” Hermione asked, the only part of this entire conversation she could try to wrap her head around.
“If you chose. He’s been waiting for my word on whether you’d be joining him this evening or not,” the woman said, the air of patience all around her.
Well she had to give it to Marcus, he knew what he wanted when he wanted it and there was a bit of…attraction in that. She couldn’t deny she liked for someone else to take control for once but to do so competently. That was always the stipulation and it felt like that was where a lot of her other relationships turned bad. They’d try to ‘lead’ and screw things up and then she had to fix everything herself anyways. She was tired, so very tired, of having her brain turned on all of the time. For once she’d love for someone to tell her what to do in a way that she could trust them to lead and she would gladly follow. That had never happened and so she was left to continue as she had been. But here was Flint, spending an exorbitant amount of money to get her attention and now had set up a date immediately after. She imagined if she said no he’d be amenable, the woman didn’t seem desperate or concerned either way.
What would Ginny do?
What would Pansy do?
“.....Alright. I’ll go now,” Hermione said.
The woman grinned slightly and reached into her pocket, producing a handkerchief that she carefully unraveled and sitting perfectly in the middle was an antique golden teaspoon. “Whenever you’re ready, Miss Granger.”
A pre-made portkey. Yes, Marcus definitely had all of his ducks in a row. Almost subconsciously she looked in the nearby reflection of a tile along the wall of the Ministry. Hermione saw her reflection. Rich dark skin, back straight and shoulders back, that familiar glow along her frame, hair draped down in lovely spirals and then her eyes; they still had that fog but there was something shining in them now, even if it was distant. A light in the lighthouse, something a bit thrilling about the entire thing.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, remembering all of the adventures she’d gone on with Harry and Ron. What was one more, after all? And with that, she took the teaspoon and was whisked off to her date.
☾
She had finally mastered portkeys a few years back and so she didn’t fall flat on her ass when she landed. Instead she immediately took in her surroundings and noted a few things.
First, this was definitely a mansion, the high ceilings and the luxurious atmosphere told her that alone. A huge window showed it was late, the moon casting a lovely glow but the second thing she noticed was actually the lighting of the room.
Tons of little blue flames danced above her head, not unlike the candles that floated in the Great Hall at Hogwarts that she was so fond of. Such delicate magic, she was surprised Flint had pulled something like this off.
The third thing she noticed was the dinner table in the middle of the room and a bouquet sitting on one of the chairs. As she walked over, a little snap could be heard and she saw an elf appear at her side.
“Good evening, Miss Granger. Master will be right with you. My name is Winxy and I’ll be helping you today and my Master all said to tell you before you is getting angry that I am a free elf and I has a weekly paycheck and Master is always giving me extras and no he is not telling me to say that. See,” said Winxy, giving Hermione a twirl. And it was true, the house elf was wearing what seemed to be a handmaid dress and a beaded necklace.
“I guess Flint remembers my initiative. Well, good on him then. I’m glad to see you’re a free elf and thank you for taking care of this date tonight.” Wow. Who would have guessed Marcus was so thoughtful, especially of his elves.
Winxy looked pleased and with a snap of her fingers, the wine glasses filled and the elf bowed, “These flowers are being for you Missus Granger. Aren’t they lovely? Snuffy works in the gardens and grew them himself.”
Hermione picked them up and took a deep inhale. Blue hyacinths if she recalled correctly and some Baby’s Breath mixed in, a little lavender. “These are lovely Winxy and please tell Snuffy I said as much.”
“I can be putting them in water until you go, Miss. I hope you is enjoying your date.” Winxy took the flowers and Hermione smiled, “Marcus is doing a great job of it so far so I can’t see it going poorly.” Which was a strange statement for her to make. This night had started off with such high anxieties and now she felt…almost eager. Like she was about to turn a corner.
Winxy paused a moment, clamping her mouth shut and then nodded a few dozen times before disappearing. Hermione didn’t think much of it, elves were always a bit sporadic but for now she took her seat, lifted the glass of wine, and tried to relax. She tried to picture what Marcus looked like now. Could she remember what his voice sounded like? When and where did they pass each other in hallways on the way to class? When was the last time they had crossed paths? Maybe the Battle of Hogwarts first anniversary ceremony, honoring those that had passed.
The question on the tip of her tongue though, naturally, was why? Why had he spent so much money on her and then asked for a date with her in this same evening? She had mentally prepared to wait at least a week before she heard from him but this was rather efficient. Well, efficient save for the time she was sitting here alone now.
The room itself was rather nice, she supposed. A light tile under her feet, she imagined there were typically seating arrangements in here but all had been removed for just the table in the middle. Plants hung everywhere making the room smell airy and bright. She was trying to focus on these details to not get herself nervous or over thinking this, wondering if she should’ve just gone home instead when she heard the click of the door opening behind her.
Her heart started to do double time. Hermione focused on the individual sounds. The sound of the door closing, the sound of steady footsteps behind her, the sound of someone letting out a slightly shaky breath before he cleared his throat.
“Granger.”
That….was not Marcus.
For the second time tonight she was perplexed as she slowly looked to the man that had now made it to the side of the table. Up and up his all black, perfectly tailored suit, the black turtleneck underneath, up more to the pale skin and the blond-white hair, and then to those piercing gray eyes that made her breath stop.
“Malfoy?” she said breathlessly, as if she’d been punched in the gut and had used the last of her reserves to say his name.
He took another deep breath and for the longest time the two just stared at each other. The blue flames flickering above them cast his eyes in an ethereal glow, he was so much taller than she remembered him ever being and a bit broader in the shoulders. His angular face held no softness but his eyes did as he looked at her.
Hermione shot up from her chair and looked indignant, “Where’s Marcus?” she asked.
“Australia,” Malfoy said simply. She noted that he kept his hands out of his pockets. Slightly awkward but they were simply down at his sides, as if showing her he held nothing in them.
“What do you mean he’s in Australia?” she asked quietly but there was a firmness in her tone that he would more than likely recognize from years of being enemies both academically and socially.
“I understand your confusion. Please sit down so I can explain,” Malfoy said almost desperately but Hermione could tell it was rehearsed.
“No, I don’t think I will. This is some joke after all, isn’t it? Bid on the Golden Girl, make her feel nice and pretty for a moment then wrench it away before she can even get home to enjoy it. You really are twisted,” she snapped at him because logically, logically that made sense in her head.
Malfoy shifted from one foot to the other, looking extremely uncomfortable, “Fine. Don’t sit but I am going to explain and I mean every word.” Hermione didn’t say a peep and watched him through narrowed eyes. “Marcus was never making the bids. I was the entire time…I can’t…spend exorbitant amounts of money under my name until the end of my probation as deemed by the Wizengamot. No fancy brooms, no wild parties, my funds are monitored until the end of my probation. Even my request to spend money for this auction, despite it being for charity, was denied. I had to have Marcus register as a buyer and send him the galleons I wanted to use.”
Hermione scoffed, “You went through a lot of trouble to humiliate me.”
“Not humiliate you, but to go on a date with you,” he said gruffly, as if forcing himself to get through this explanation.
“I don’t understand,” Hermione said with a shake of her head.
“I wanted to go on a date with you, Granger, and this seemed like the most efficient way to go about it. I figured if I asked you outright you’d say no-”
“Damn right I’d say no!”
“-so this made the most sense. And it’s for a good cause although I’m doubling your bid just to send more anyways. Not like I need it.”
Hermione was still processing all of this, wishing now more than ever she’d simply gone home for the night. “So you used Marcus to buy a date with me because….why?” She couldn’t hide the truth of it from her face and she didn’t need to say it out loud. He was him and she was her. Opposite sides of the war, opposite sides of background and life.
“There is another slightly more selfish reason,” Malfoy began.
Here it was. The other shoe was dropping. Hermione put her hands on her hips and to her horror, she noted Malfoy’s eyes roaming down her figure but then hastily went back to her as if he couldn’t help himself. Damn Pansy for putting her in this sparkling green dress of all things. “My probation, if you recall, is for five years and a day.” Hermione remembered of course because the Golden Trio had all testified at his hearing. He’d gotten off with time served and the probation. His mother had been on house arrest. His father had been made the example of and put into Azkaban. Hermione had read he’d succumbed to death about two years ago now.
“Is that soon or something?” Hermione asked.
“It has been exactly five years and at midnight, it will be five years and a day. I wanted to spend that time….celebrating isn’t the right word.” His eyes trailed to his feet, “I wanted to spend it getting to know someone I admire. I wanted to spend it turning over a real leaf. And I wanted to spend it with you.”
Her mouth had gone rather dry as she looked at him. He forced himself to look back at her and now there they were, just a chair between them. The wheels were turning in her head wondering if this was a trick or a trap but had Malfoy ever looked so genuinely at her before? She’d seen this look on him before, back in school. At the Slytherin table talking animatedly to Theodore and Blaise. Or the moments she’d noticed him and Pansy sitting by the lake doing homework. Or right before he soared into the sky before a Quidditch match. She’d noticed those moments because he looked as he should. Like a student and friend enjoying his life. Those genuine looks had gone away the older they’d gotten but now here was one and he was leveling it her way.
“Midnight,” she said. A deadline. She wasn’t sure what would happen, perhaps nothing, but she’d give him until then and then she’d go home.
“Yes. I mean…you’re agreeing to the date?” he asked, sounding shocked. Did he think she’d leave? Perhaps. Or maybe he had more speeches in his pocket to try to convince her to stay.
“Yes, Malfoy, I’m agreeing to the date,” she said with a shrug.
Was he smiling? It had only been for a second but then quickly he moved, pulling her chair out again and motioning with his hand for her to sit. Hermione didn’t take her eyes off of him as she moved back to the chair and slowly sank into it. Malfoy cleared his throat once more and rounded the table to sit down himself.
Instantly, a soup appeared in their bowls, “You met Winxsy?” he asked.
“Yes. She’s sweet,” Hermione said, sitting forward. The soup smelled heavenly and she just realized how hungry she was from the wild day it had been.
“She’s my childhood elf. She was the first one I freed when I got control of the Malfoy Estate,” he said.
“She did give me her speech ensuring she was free. You must remember my work at school,” she said, unable to stop the slight smirk on her face.
“How could I forget with a name like SPEW,” he said, going for a bit of humor.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, “In retrospect that could have used some workshopping,” she admitted, taking a sip of the soup. Butternut squash if she wasn’t mistaken and delicious.
“A lot of things change in retrospect,” Malfoy said sagely. Hermione looked at him from across the table, the moon halo’ing his head behind him like it had been there all along. He was drinking some of his wine, avoiding looking at her, she was fairly certain, his leg was tapping over and over again under the table.
“Should we just let the pixies out of the bag?” she asked. He did look at her then with a confused cant of his head and she sighed, putting her spoon down. “I mean…it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. We talked at the anniversary and then when last, Pansy’s birthday party two years back?” Where Draco had mostly stayed in the corner in shadow avoiding speaking to anyone. Although that had been the party where Harry approached him and he’d seen the two men shake hands so it couldn’t have gone too poorly.
“Yes, right around then. But I’ve been curious about what you’ve been up to. Dating rockstars wasn’t what I would have guessed. Merlin, Granger, you sure know how to pick them.”
An embarrassed flush fell over her face, “He was a perfect gentleman but we grew apart because he was always on tour.”
“And he’s an idiot. I saw an interview where he tried to talk politics and I’d rather let a dragon bite me on the arse than listen to that again,” he said with a chuckle, sipping more wine. His laugh sounded hearty and Hermione noticed for the first time a little crinkle of a line by his eye when he smiled sincerely, a moment ago when she’d agreed to stay for this date and then now.
Hermione remembered that exact interview, “That…may or may not have been part of the reason we broke up.” Malfoy looked across and gave her a ‘told you so’ look and she grumbled as she picked up her spoon once more and started eating more soup. “...Why the four knuts?”
“To be petty with the Ministry. Just for fun,” he said with a smirk. Malfoy was a lot of things but now that he was shaking off whatever anxiety he’d had about whether she’d be staying or not, he was going full speed ahead to find every way to make her squirm.
“Malfoy, I-”
“Draco. We’re on a date, aren’t we? Call me Draco and I’ll call you Hermione.”
Hearing her name from his mouth made her sit up a bit straighter. He said it with an interesting lilt between the between the ‘i’ and the ‘o’ or maybe she was just sleepy and being ridiculous.
“Draco….” She watched him suck in the tiniest breath, staring at her full lips before nodding in approval and looking back up at her before he too started eating his soup, “...as I was saying..I get why you’d want to commemorate your last evening of probation but you didn’t have to do that with me. I’m sure Pansy or Theodore or Blaise could’ve had dinner with you. For significantly less money.”
“It’s not about the money. I saw an opportunity and I took it. If you had said no I’d have just gone to bed. But I want you here and I want you to see…I want to tell you that I’ve been working on myself. On atoning. Your opinion of me matters to me.”
Hermione shifted in her seat, the sparkles on her dress flickering dancing light around them as the blue flames above pushed everything into a cool tone. “I don’t get why-”
“You know why, Hermione.”
Now it was her turn to be speechless as he went back to eating. She didn’t speak and instead did the same, both of them finishing their plates in silence before the bowls disappeared and a meal replaced it.
It wasn’t at all what she expected out of a dinner date meal. A grilled cheese, a portion of spaghetti, a cut of ham, three slices of a green apple. “...These are all of my favorites,” she muttered. Her brow formed that line once more but now she was trying to figure out Malfoy- Draco- and she was getting nowhere.
“I remember you devouring this stuff back in school. Figured you still liked it so I asked Pansy and she confirmed. Oh, I guess I should add that she wasn’t aware that it was me bidding tonight. No one knew except for Marcus so don’t be angry at her,” he added.
All of her favorites. The food at Hogwarts was plentiful but over the years you ended up reaching for the same things when they were around. It was an odd assortment but it was everything she thoroughly enjoyed, “That’s so thoughtful of you,” she said, smiling at him now but then it occurred to her, “You saw what I ate in school?” she questioned, her voice quieter now.
“Since fourth year.”
Hermione gulped and felt an all too familiar pulse in her belly, the first flap of a butterfly wing that threatened to be set free.
“I see,” she said, picking up her fork and beginning first on the little pile of spaghetti. She started to eat and naturally it was delicious. By the time she finished the spaghetti she moved on to the first cut of ham and then looked over at Draco. This was a date after all but both of them seemed to still be on edge and she wanted to break the tension. “You said you’ve changed. Tell me how.”
That seemed to kick him out of his head a bit as he ate a bite of the apple. “I don’t want to make it sound like these things erase all of the wrongs my family and I did but…well I’ve been in therapy for ages now, shortly after my sentencing I found someone that’s been helping me with my emotions and processing that. I was even seeing a grief counselor for a while. I donate to just about every charity imaginable but I’m also setting up legislation for prison reform. Azkaban is….” and he paused, Hermione noticing the grip on his fork tightening, “It’s inhumane. No matter how bad things get, it just isn’t working as a system.” Hermione could agree to that and knowing his father had died there, she was sure the man across from her had strong opinions on Azkaban. “I’ve sat down with other people I’ve hurt, other families torn apart by my actions. Not all have forgiven me but that’s alright, I never expected them to. I’m also working on starting a non-profit after the probation ends, to reform pureblood customs. The families in power have been able to stay in power because of their exceptions and bylaws and it’s what gets us in a loop of tyranny to be frank. Once…once my father died this estate came to me and I was able to access a lot more of the paperwork he signed on my behalf. It’s just not right.”
Hermione was enraptured. Somewhere during his talk she leaned forward slightly over the table, soaking in every word. With every point he made she had thought of ways to expand on it. “That’s a lot of work but I’m glad you’re doing it. I’m…proud.”
That seemed to ignite something in the wizard who gulped, stuttered a bit and lost a lot of that self assuredness she had come to know him for over the years. Hermione shifted in her seat, eating a slice of apple before something occurred to her.
She looked around the room as she nibbled and then slowly, very slowly, she looked up. It wasn’t there anymore but through the bluebell flames she could see the hook where once hung a chandelier. The warmth of a hand shot out, encompassing her own and her eyes snapped back to Draco’s. She had thought she was going to the Flint mansion but it had been Draco all along. Meaning, “This is Malfoy Manor. This is the ballroom.”
“That’s another thing I did. It was risky to bring you here but I had this entire room remodeled. Everything is replaced except that damned hook up there, my mother insisted she wants to buy some other gaudy structure to hang from there so she wouldn’t let me get rid of it. I wanted you to see it’s gone. All of that, what my aunt did, I tried to scrub it all away.”
Her hand was shaking slightly but she felt his grip squeeze hers and suddenly she felt lighter. She had never wanted to be coddled. Hermione Granger was strong and capable. “Thank you for trusting me to handle this. It’s ok. She doesn’t hold power over me anymore,” she said, her thumb grazing the back of Draco’s hand. “And she doesn’t hold power over you anymore, either,” she added, feeling the need to say it out loud.
The two war-ridden adults watched each other, taking in the shift and Hermione felt the second flap of butterfly wings.
☾
The rest of dinner went better than any date Hermione had been on in her life.
She had several helpings of grilled cheese sandwiches, to her insistence Draco asked Winxy to bring in more butternut squash soup and she egged him on to dip the sandwich into the soup and his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas as they devoured another full sandwich each to the decadent taste. He talked about joining a casual Quidditch league and the love he had for the game. Hermione talked about her latest research and her hope to one day find a cure to lycanthropy.
They laughed, they talked about their mutual friends, they quipped at each other and all night Hermione found that conversation with Draco Malfoy came as easy as breathing air. They did talk about the deeper things. How much Draco loved his mother but at times couldn’t stop himself from resenting her part in the war no matter if it was to keep him safe. Hermione talked about Obliviating her parents and almost not getting them back when the spell had almost gone on too long and the process to bring back their memories was risky.
They talked about his blood prejudice and how he’d known all along it was a silly notion but he had to fit in. She talked about hating being called the Brightest Witch of her Age because, “I’m more than just smart, right? I have other things I can bring to the table besides my brains.”
Draco had his elbow resting on the table, lithe piano-player fingers, or snitch-catcher fingers she supposed, now in his tousled hair a bit more disheveled than when she’d first arrived. “You’re also maddeningly beautiful and your humor is as sharp as a tack if you were asking for my opinion,” he said, that scratchy tonal sound in his voice sending another jolt of lightning down her spine.
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she clarified.
“You shouldn't have to fish for them. I’ll tell you for no discernible reason. Your intelligence is certainly astounding but I find you to be so-”
The sound of a clock rang through the room and Hermione jolted, glancing over at the clock. Midnight. “You’re free.”
For a moment Draco just blinked at the timepiece as if it were lying to him. Hermione stayed silent so he could take in the moment exactly as he’d pictured it. This was all a making of his creation after all. When he sighed she could’ve sworn she saw a physical weight lift off of his shoulders and the boy she’d known back at Hogwarts appeared for a moment. He smiled and then turned his gaze back to her. Her hands in her lap she said nothing but that charged feeling coursed through her again.
“Thank you for being here.”
“Thank you for…buying my evening, I suppose,” she said with a lopsided grin.
It all stopped for a moment when Draco stopped smiling, rolled his shoulders, “Midnight was the deal,” he reminded her.
Right. She was supposed to leave now. Her eyes widened, “Right, yes….Right.” Was he dismissing her? “Does this fulfill our date night contract with the Ministry?”
Draco pursed her lips and stood, “I’ll make sure to tell Marcus to tell the Ministry you’ve fulfilled your obligations.”
What was happening. Hermione stood, smoothed out her dress and grabbed her purse. Without a word, Draco was walking her over to a fireplace in the corner of the room for Floo travel. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around. Now that my probation is over I’m free to attend more social events without needing permission. Pansy’s birthday is next month so no doubt I’ll see you then.”
An entire month? Hermione was reeling, her entire night going from 180 to 180 to 180. The butterflies were still there but now they felt like they were crashing headfirst into each other, unsure of where to go anymore. “Yes, definitely. I know she plans on making it a big one, that’s nothing new but, I’ll be sure to see you there.”
Draco nodded firmly, stiffly and Hermione hated the formality of it. But what else was she supposed to do? Slowly the witch stepped into the fire, managing at least a cordial grin as she took the nearby powder in hand, “Have a good rest of your night, Draco.” And before he could say anything more she said her house number and was whisked off in a roar of green fire.
☾
It took Hermione exactly 18.4 seconds to realize she had made a mistake and went back into the Floo, hoping that somehow, someway, Malfoy’s Floo would let her pass.
☾
There was Malfoy, Floo powder in hand looking at her with wide eyes as she stepped back out of the fireplace. He was breathing heavily, blinking at her slowly as if he was wondering if she was really there or not.
“I heard your address but I couldn’t decide if it was rude or not to repeat it and just show up at your house.”
Hermione looked back and forth between his fisted hand to his wary gaze. It took her 3.3 seconds to say fuck it and move toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him soundly. She felt the brush of powder at her ankles as Draco dropped it and used his now free hands to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as they kissed hungrily. They were no better than children kissing under the Quidditch bleachers, hasty and needy as his feet stumbled and their teeth knocked together but in a moment it all evening out and she licked her tongue along his bottom lip. Once his lips parted she slid her tongue into his mouth and heard him moan, feeling his entire body shudder against hers.
The bluebell lights still danced above them, the moon high in the sky as Hermione ran her hand into his hair, touching the tendrils she had wanted to feel for the last two hours now. He tasted like wine and apples and the soup they’d had earlier. Despite his presence always giving off coldness, his touch was warm and heated as she stayed on her tiptoes to meet him halfway, his bigger frame hunkering over her slightly.
He was kissing her back but for some reason she was afraid the moment they stopped he’d gain clarity and say it was a bad idea. She didn’t know about the future, didn’t know what all of this would mean come the sun rising but she knew what she wanted now.
“Draco. Please.” Whether it was her request or the way she said his name she wasn’t sure but he growled against her lips and pulled back slightly, nuzzling into her cheek.
“You want this, Hermione? You’re sure. Because once I start…I’ve wanted you for too long. So long…” and he squeezed her sides before his hands explored more, lowered to her ass and gave it a squeeze as well. “I can make you feel so good. I’ve thought of so many ways.”
Hermione gulped but nodded as she tightened her grip around his shoulders. “Show me,” she whispered.
That was all of the insistence Draco needed as he tugged her closer, his chin resting against her shoulder as he looked down the length of her body from behind, “Fuck, I hadn’t seen your arse in this dress yet but for more than a second. I was serious about you being so beautiful it’s maddening. Actually pissing me off.” Draco slapped her ass as if to prove she was in trouble for it but then smoothed his hand over the spot, his free hand reaching up under her hair where the zipper was and slowly, slowly lowering it revealing her flesh.
Hermione turned her head slightly to bite and kiss at the flesh of his neck, whimpering softly as she felt her dress loosen. “Black lacy thong?” he teased.
Hermione huffed, “It made me feel pretty tonight.”
She heard, or rather felt his chuckle as his hand dove into her dress and rubbed her skin before sliding up and expertly unclipping her bra. He pulled back then to kiss her, a welcomed distraction as he worked off her dress in a fluid motion. She was battle torn but had never felt self conscious about her scars. Some were faded from childhood, most still held the indent of pain inflicted during the wars. Mudblood still adorned her inner arm but as she’d said before, Bellatrix Lestrange held no power over her.
She heard Draco hum as her dress and bra fell to the ground and he looked over her, eyes dancing along her body, hands creeping along her scars like plucking guitar string and making a macabre, beautiful melody.
Leaving her heels on he hoisted her up into his arms and automatically, Hermione’s thighs wrapped around his waist. They kissed again, hungrily and wanting as she rocked her hips into his own. The moan he let out about sent Hermione into orbit. She wondered how many more times she could get him to do it tonight.
“Hold on to me,” he murmured. She buried her face into his neck and she knew they were walking. Steady steps but every now and again he’d stop to pin her to a wall and kiss her properly. During one of those stops she shoved off his dinner jacket. Another stop and they peeled off his black sweater and discarded it in the hall. Somewhere along the way he’d kicked off his shoes. All the while his hands kept roaming her body, occasionally sneaking in to pinch her nipple and roll it between snitch-catching lithe fingers or to press her into a wall and rock his hardening length into her thong that wasn’t doing much of a job to hide how wet she was.
They made it to his bedroom, what she assumed to be his, lush greens and obsidian blacks adorned with silver treatments and as soon as he stepped through the threshold a fire roared to life. Hermione wanted to spend time looking over his room. To know what he had placed here and what had just been given to him. If he felt cozy here. What antiques were his favorite but all of that would have to wait. He moved her to the bed, placed her there and brought both of his hands to her cheeks as he stood between her legs and pressed their lips together, this time more intentional and careful. Her own hands coursed over his body, feeling the old Sectumsempra scar, others that she didn’t know the tale of, he had tattoos now not unlike Pasy in runic markings all over his body. Dragons and stars and a snitch that flew around his bicep.
When she pulled away to breathe she couldn’t help to look down at his own arm, the Dark Mark there but faded. That seemed to give him pause, “They said it will always be there,” he muttered a bit raggedly.
He seemed to be waiting on what she would say or do about it. Hermione nodded slowly before reaching forward, eyes focused on his pants and undoing first his belt, then working on the button and unzipping him. All the while Draco didn’t do more than place his hands on his shoulders and watch, breath coming out of his nose like a bull but biting his tongue in forced control. “We’ve all got our shit, Draco. It’s what we’re doing moving forward that counts.” The entire night of conversation, the entire motivation of his atonement, she knew good and well he’d never wanted the mark the same way she didn’t want hers. Hermione’s hand slid into his pants, feeling the thick member pulsing there in need. The moan he let out then swapped places with the other to become Hermione’s favorite. His hands moved from her shoulders into her hair, tugging her forward and kissing her forehead.
It was such a sweet gesture that she laughed slightly, looking up at him and assessing this new man in front of her, different than any she had expected out of tonight. “Hermione, I-”
She didn’t let him finish. Instead without much warning she pulled him out entirely and moved in the small space she had to her knees in front of him, sinking him into her mouth. One of his hands plummeted to the bedding to keep his balance, the other fisted into her bundle of curls. Hermione sucked and licked, moving her head slowly at first, adding her hands to the parts of him toward the end that she couldn’t quite reach. His girth was impressive and with a bit of a choked sound she could take him fully into her mouth.
Which she did a moment later, again without much warning. “Fuck, witch,” he exclaimed.
Pleased with herself, Hermione kept with her movements, slow and fast, pulling him out fully to tease his tip and peer up at him with wide brow eyes as she did. His hand found her cheek, caressing it soothingly as a pink flush came to his otherwise pale features. His hair, so perfectly tousled, draped now slightly over his eyes as he peered down to watch her. Hermione swirled her tongue, her free hand sliding up his chest as his hand moved overtop of hers, lacing them together. She could feel his heartbeat pounding as she kept up the movements, showing no sign of slowing down or letting up. When she moved to fully take him in her mouth and suck hard, gagging as she did so he began to wheeze, lovely noises as he all but begged for her to slow down.
“I want to enjoy this,” he said with a grunt, reaching his hand firmly into her hair and pulling her off, “You enjoy seeing me like this, don’t you?” he challenged her.
Hermione with her cheshire grin shrugged, “Maybe.”
“Maybe, she says. Bloody dementor sucking my soul out of my cock,” he snorted, using her hair as leverage and forced her to stand. “My turn.” The heat in his eyes was dangerous and suddenly the tables were turned. Hermione gulped as his hand squeezed, pulling the tendrils of her hair at the scalp that made her moan. Draco raised a brow and considered her, “You like that?....”
She licked her lips and nodded slowly, that lighthouse in the fog, brighter now. Closer in her eyes.
“I’m going to take such good care of you. Turn around,” he said, using her hair to turn but he didn’t really need to, she was already twisting to face the bed and then yelped when he shoved her down onto it. “Good girl.”
Good. Girl.
Hermione whimpered. Draco, peering now at her lovely backside could’ve come right then and there but he held off, instead placing a hard slap to her ass that rang in the room with a lovely snap. “Spread your legs for me.” Slowly her legs inched apart. She felt him release the hold on her hair but a second later she felt his tongue lapping against her cunt. Hermione grabbed the luxurious sheets in an iron grip. Another slap to her other ass cheek rang in the air like a dinner bell and Draco’s tongue pressed into her folds as if they hadn’t just had a full meal.
One of his hands pressed down into her lower back to pin her down, the other kept massaging her ass as he moved his tongue up and down, in circular motions, trying all sorts of things and adjusting based on her response. She had always been responsive during sex. She found some exes didn’t like it, especially when she went silent. Others didn’t learn from her noises but Draco did. Adamantly. Instantaneously. “Tell me when you’re about to come,” he rumbled as he continued to feast.
Hermione saw stars, “N-Now. I’m about…t-to…don’t stop just…th-there…”
It all went away. His tongue stopped and Hermione wheezed in protest, arching slightly to try to see him and spotted the classic Malfoy smirk looking back at her.
He was edging her.
Fucking bastard.
She whimpered, her body igniting in goosebumps.
Draco stood, running his hands up and down her sides as he caught his breath. “You taste better than I imagined. Next time I want to know what your orgasm tastes like.”
Hermione gulped.
Next time?
She heard the sound of his pants being completely discarded and felt his cock resting against the plump of her ass. Draco hunkered fully over her form, taking her chin in hand, turning her head to the side and looking at her. The lighthouse was closer now. The fog was clearing. He kissed her sweetly and she kissed him back as she felt him inch more and more inside of her with each roll of their lips against each other. He laced their hands together once more, the other guiding himself inside of her as she felt the fullness of his considerable girth stretching her so pleasantly. When he was fully hilted he held it there, crashing their lips together more roughly as her toes curled.
After a moment he rested his forehead to hers and in one swift motion, rocked out of her and then slammed into her with wild abandon once more. She cried out, the cries turning into strangled moans as he held himself there for a moment before doing it again; one long stroke out and then ramming himself back into her. “Fuck. Your cunt…I can feel it gripping my cock. Like it bloody needs me,” he said huskily. He pulled almost all the way out before finding home again and then he began to set a pace, a brutal one at that. He raised the tempo, the bed squeaking as he started moving faster and faster, his hand laced with her tightly almost in reassurance, the other occasionally coming down like a whip against her ass before pressing into the sheets to balance himself.
“Just like that, Draco. Yes, yes, that’s s-so good,” she whimpered.
His eyes closed briefly, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her lips, “So long. Wanted you for so long.” And then he sat up fully, releasing her hand to grab her hips and lift her up, feet still in high heels slightly off of the floor as he started relentlessly pounding into her.
Hermione was having the time of her life. There was nothing in her head but pleasure and holding on for dear life. The slight sting of it was intoxicating. His grip into her sides was intense and she knew it would leave lovely marks on her skin.
She had no concept of time but then he stopped and pulled out of her once more. “Up on the bed. On your back,” he said. Hermione had no time to catch her breath, she moved onto the bed and turned, despite the soreness of her ass, her back on the bed. Now she could get a good look at him fully naked and he was like a statue. Génie du Mal incarnate. “Keep your legs spread open,” he said. Hermione licked her lips and slowly forced her legs to open wider. Draco stared, taking in the pink there and now definitely sore and wanting.
He gulped and moved forward, taking one of her feet and pressing the heel into his chest. Hermione watched with bated breath as he began to work off her heel, “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.
“Draco, that’s not for you to decide,” she said.
He shook his head, “It’s just a statement of fact. I don’t deserve you and I doubt many men on this Earth do. But…” he finished that shoe and gently put her foot down before patting his chest, indicating for her to do the same with the other. She carefully placed her heel on his chest again, careful to mind some of the bigger scars, “...I plan on earning you every day. For as long as you let me.” He untied the second shoe, hand sliding over her thigh and trailing to her eyes.
“I like the sound of that,” Hermione said with a smile.
Draco licked his lips, searching her face before cracking into a smile of his own, the genuine one she was coming to crave before carefully taking her other shoe off and leaving it on the floor. He kissed the inside of her ankle, never taking his gaze away before trailing his lips down and down and down until he was crawling his way onto the bed.
She laid back into the sheets and before long he was hovering over her, those delicate ribbons of blond hair draping down like a curtain. “Hermione Granger you are a wonder of the world,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“You always this poetic or should I savor the moment?” she teased back, hands moving to his shoulders while his knees forced her legs to spread wider and he lined himself up to her.
“With you? Always,” he whispered before pressing into her once again. Her back arched and one of his arms slid into the space, the other moving to hold the back of her head in a tender embrace. As Hermione expected, the embrace was the only thing tender about it. Draco rutted into her, grunting and moaning, all of his weight on his knees as he held her frame and fucked her brutality. Hermione responded in kind, tugging at his hair, tracing her nails down his back, her legs spread wide to give him ample room as the sound of slapping skin filled the room like a symphony.
Her eyes rolled back as she groaned.
“Eyes on me, Hermione,” he said sharply and slowly she looked at him, letting him see how he was making her come undone. Letting him see that pouty on her lips as she moaned and begged for more and shouted his name. How her toes curled and her cunt clenched around him and she could feel more and more wetness against her thighs with each raw slap of skin together. His hand moved from her hair to her throat, putting light pressure against her neck that made her wheeze in approval and made Draco smirk and continue speaking to her in such a raunchy way she had never been subjected to before.
“Such a tight wet cunt. So fucking good.”
Hermione grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss, tongue tasting him again as her hips bucked into him to the rhythm. “Give it to me. Yes, fuck, don’t hold back,” she pleaded.
Draco shifted his hands, grabbing her legs and pressing them back to fold her, a roar erupting from him as he continued fucking her ruthlessly. “Can I come? Please let me come all over you please please please,” Hermioned begged.
Draco didn’t speak, only seemed to concentrate more as he pounded into her and then right when she thought she couldn’t handle it anymore he said the words, “Cum on me. Cum on my cock.” Hermioned exploded in a sea of color that could cut through any fog. She cried out his name, her body shaking empathetically.
He never slowed his pace until the moment he hilted again and let out a strangled moan. She felt wet heat deep inside of her and even then he gave her a few more hard, steady pumps as the entire bed rocked underneath them and his seed spilled out onto her thighs. He held there, moved her legs back down, watched her as he rocked into her.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders, catching her breath.
Eventually, slowly, everything slowed, elevated in a moment as they kissed sweetly. Her hand unfurled from her throat, he slipped out of her, but he brought her with him as he rolled to his side on the bed, her leg thrown over his waist.
Basking in it, she felt heat rise everywhere their bodies touched. Draco reached out, tucking her now aggressively wild curls behind her ear where he could and chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” she asked lightly, still in a daze.
“Nothing exactly just…I get to wake up to this in the morning. It’ll probably be half choking me, but I don’t much care.”
Hermione smiled and laughed and he stole another kiss before grabbing her by the waist and tugging her close, blindingly grabbing a blanket to toss of the two of them.
“You said next time…” Hermione pointed out.
Draco smirked, “You going to make me pay for it every time because I will? I’ll donate millions, hundreds of millions but just..I don’t even mean more sex even though that was absolutely mind blowing,” he assured her, a hand snaking down to her ass, rubbing the spots lightly that he had assaulted with his hand. “I mean dates. And talks. More of this and us and whatever you want it to be.”
Hermione had almost dropped out of the date night auction tonight. She’d almost thrown up her hands and gone home and now she was in the arms of a dragon.
“More dates. More talks. Definitely more sex…” she said with a laugh, pressing her forehead to his, “I don’t know what this is I just know for the first time I feel like…I can see.”