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The cameras flashed like fireworks as she approached the lectern with calm, unshakable confidence, heels striking the tiled floor in a measured rhythm that was somehow both seductive and authoritative. Conversation dissolved the moment she stepped into view—an immediate surrender from the crowded atrium, a testament to the power she carried so effortlessly.
Draco stood near the edge of the stage in his Auror robes, admiration resting openly in his gaze. Every so often, his eyes drifted across the crowd, instinctively searching for any threats—old habits refused to die—yet they always returned to her.
It was always her.
Ever since he’d become an Auror and she’d started climbing the ranks in the Ministry, their paths crossed more often than not—too often to ignore, too frequent to dismiss as chance. And somewhere along the way, Draco had arrived at the rather shocking, entirely life-altering conclusion that he was, quite simply, utterly and irrevocably obsessed with Hermione Granger.
The Minister for Magic took her rightful place behind the stand as though it had been built for her alone. Her curls, once wild and untamed, had softened with time, falling in controlled waves down her back in a way he knew too well. Her brown eyes, warmed with flecks of gold beneath the lights, swept across the gathered witches and wizards waiting in rapt attention.
She smoothed a hand over the dark fabric of her dress before unfolding the parchment. Ridiculous, really. She could have delivered every word flawlessly from memory. Still, she glanced over the page, drew in a steadying breath, and lifted her chin.
“Thank you for taking the time to be here today. As many of you know, the werewolf legislation has remained deeply important to me, and—”
Draco’s breath caught, his focus slipped, just for a moment, as his gaze lowered and caught the unmistakable trail of pearlescent spend slipping down the length of her exposed calf. Heat tightened low in his gut. He swallowed, nostrils flaring as he forced himself to look away, to listen, to remain present.
But the memory rose too quickly, too vividly to suppress. Even mastery of Occlumency had its limits.
The door shut with a click, and he wordlessly cast a locking and silencing charm behind him as he found her pacing the office, muttering to herself.
Her head whipped around, eyes widening in confusion. “Malfoy? What are you doing in here?”
Draco tilted his head slightly as he greedily raked his eyes down her body.
“I have an appointment with the Minister.”
She glanced down at her Muggle calendar and then narrowed her suspicious eyes at him.
“No, you don’t, and I’m about to give a speech in a few moments, so if you don’t mind—“
Her words were cut off abruptly as he strode confidently towards her and immediately shoved her against the large oak desk. She yelped as her hands splayed out behind her, confusion instantly changing to fear.
“Malfoy, what the fuck—“
“Shh,” he hushed, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her with ease.
In her shock of disbelief, she allowed him to place her on top of the desk like a child’s doll, before apparently coming to her senses and trying to push him away.
Draco wasted no time using one hand to restrain her while the other drew his wand from its holster, vanishing her navy dress—a shame, really, it complimented her exquisite curves quite nicely.
She let out a mortified shriek, immediately moving to cover her breasts. “Stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
He smirked, spreading her legs wide before casting a sticking charm underneath her bare thighs. “Now you’re not going anywhere, are you?”
“Malfoy—don’t, please—listen,” she stammered, chest heaving as she looked to the door of her office. "What's gotten into you?!"
Draco shrugged, pushing the upper half of her body down against the desk where another sticking charm was expertly cast, fully restraining her.
"You, Minister. With your short little dresses and snarky attitude, always teasing and pushing me to my limits."
She laughed nervously. “Look, you can stop right now and I won’t say anything—“
He hummed distractedly, eyes downcast as he ran one long finger against the gusset of her knickers. “I don’t think so.”
She flinched, trying to close her legs but the sticking charm held firm. Breaths coming louder and uneven, she swallowed.
“Someone will come—“
She stopped short as he wandlessly vanished her knickers, bearing her glistening cunt to him like an offering.
It was bloody gorgeous.
“You’re so wet,” Draco murmured, slightly entranced at the obvious sight of her arousal.
“I am not!” She said shrilly, cheeks reddening in shame.
He grinned down at her. “The overwhelming evidence suggests otherwise.”
She looked terrified, forcefully spread out on her own desk—naked and flushed, unable to stop him from having his way with her.
Dark curls spilled out around her like a halo, rosy nipples hardening despite her refusal to cooperate.
She was a vision. Like a godsdamned dream come true.
“What are you going to do to me?” She whispered, eyes wide like a doe caught in a Lumos.
He didn’t break eye contact as he slunk down to his knees in front of her open legs, leaning in and fanning his hot breath over her cunt.
“Whatever the fuck I want.”
“Furthermore, I find it equally relieving and long overdue to finally dismantle this archaic and oppressive law—”
Draco scarcely heard her. It hardly mattered. He knew the speech by heart; he had listened to her rehearse it enough times to anticipate every pause, every shift in inflection, every subtle lift of her chin before an important point.
No, his attention had splintered elsewhere—captured by the undoing of his restraint. His gaze lingered where it should not, fixed on the slow path of moisture tracing down the length of her leg, absurdly distracting.
A familiar warmth unfurled through him, sudden and unwelcome in its timing. He forced his jaw to tighten, willing himself back to the present, back to the speech, back to the room filled with cameras and sharp eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
Potter’s hushed voice cut through his thoughts, low enough not to carry. Draco glanced sideways at him, still dressed in his Hogwarts professor’s robes, spectacles catching the gleam of the overhead lights.
“You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“It’s nothing,” Draco murmured back. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, a useless attempt at appearing composed. “Just a bit overheated.”
Potter studied him for a beat too long, curiosity flickering behind his glasses before his attention shifted back toward the stage.
Draco followed his gaze, and there she was again—entirely unaware of the havoc she was causing simply by existing.
She moaned helplessly. “Please, don’t.”
“Sorry, Minister,” Draco whispered, nose rubbing against her mound. He smiled as she shuddered. “I simply can’t help myself.”
He licked a slow path between her folds, groaning at the taste of her; tangy yet something almost floral. Absolutely delicious.
“Salazar, you taste so good.”
She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. “No—I don’t want this…”
“Well I do,” Draco mumbled, strong hands crawling up her thighs to grip her possessively. “And I’m not stopping for anything, so lie there and take it.”
He ignored her desperate pleas of protest while he ate her relentlessly, face pressed as close to her soaking wet cunt as he could get. Surrounded by her taste and smell, he was a starving man feasting upon her unwilling offering.
Nothing compared. Well maybe one thing would, but he’d get there in due time.
Despite the sticking charm, her thighs started to tremble and her cunt slightly bucked forward into his mouth.
He sighed contently. “That’s it, I knew you’d want it eventually.”
“No, please,” she groaned loudly, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she continued to fight between resistance and submission.
“You like this?” He rasped, squeezing her thighs. “Me sucking on your little clit while you tell me no?”
She moaned in lieu of a response. Draco smiled, pleased that she was finally giving in to him, although he would have preferred her still fighting.
It was more fun that way.
“Are you close?”
“No!” She yelled, but the wanton gasp she made when he inserted two fingers into her cunt betrayed her.
Draco leaned back to look at her and huffed a laugh. “I think you are. You’re going to come aren’t you?”
“No—get off me—you fucking—“
He laughed again, then eagerly dove back in and began devouring her with his tongue. It was obscene how wet she was. He couldn’t get enough.
“Come in my mouth, Minister,” he commanded. “I’m going to eat it all.”
With a breathy shriek, followed by a long moan, she came hard, body thrashing against the sticking charm as her release flooded Draco's face. He hummed approvingly, lapping up every drop.
“A dear friend of mine once said he dreamed of the day prejudice would no longer decide the shape of his life. Sadly, he is not here to witness this change, but countless others living with lycanthropy are—”
Draco shifted his weight, drawing his cloak a little closer around himself, though it did nothing to steady the restlessness of his cock. Another drop traced the curve of her ankle, catching the light before disappearing beneath the line of her heel, and he became abruptly aware of the heat gathering at the back of his neck, of the slow bead of sweat slipping between his shoulder blades.
“Lupin would be proud,” Weasley murmured beside Potter, quiet enough to avoid being overheard yet full of unmistakable satisfaction. A goofy, gratified smile settled across his freckled face.
Draco resisted the instinctive urge to sneer.
Instead, he glanced toward the others gathered nearer the stage—the staff, the friends, the familiar faces standing apart from the crowd. Their attention remained fixed on her, on the speech, on the significance of the moment unfolding before them. No one seemed distracted. No one appeared to notice anything unusual.
Only him.
His gaze returned to her despite himself. To the unwavering poise in her posture, to the certainty in her voice as it carried through the atrium, steady and resolute. She stood there like something untouchable—brilliant, composed, entirely beyond the reach of anyone lesser. All the while, his come continued to leak out of her.
Fucking hell. He was dangerously close to losing it.
When her breathing slowed down and the shocks of pleasure through her body lessened, he kissed the inside of her thigh and stood up.
“You disgust me,” she snarled, face flushed with sweat and humiliation. "I hate you."
“Save the sweet talk for after I’m done fucking you,” he said nonchalantly, removing his tie like this was all completely normal for them.
Her breath hitched audibly in outrage. “Don’t you fucking dare! I’ll scream—“
Draco laughed, dark and amused. “I’ve already put up a heavy silencing charm but please, be my guest. Scream and cry for help while I force you to lay here and take my cock."
He palmed himself through his trousers as he looked down at her with appreciation, groaning despite himself. Pure perfection. Even if she didn't want him… yet.
She snorted, still defiant. Just the way he liked her.
“It’s probably so small I won’t even feel it.”
Draco grinned as he freed his throbbing cock—head already red and leaking pre-come, ready to sink in between her folds—and showed it to her with suggestive raised brows. Her eyes widened in horror and she started trashing again.
“Malfoy, don’t! Please, no!"
He ignored her, notching himself at her entrance, his own breaths now coming heavy as he pushed the tip of his cock in teasingly.
“I’m going to wreck you, Minister.”
Then, without permission, he sheathed himself to the hilt with a grunt.
She let out a loud moan; eyes rolling back in her head as she shivered, entire body covered with goosebumps.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He whispered, giving a couple experimental strokes.
Her hips raised as much as the sticking charm allowed, and he smirked down at her piercing glare.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t!” She snapped, eyes closing in pleasure as he began to steadily thrust in and out.
“Liar,” he laughed, pinching her nipple. “You love it, you dirty little slut.”
She ignored him, instinctively trying to push her breasts towards him despite herself. He could work with that.
Draco raised a questionable brow. “If I give you some leeway are you going to behave?”
Before she could argue—because of course she would—he made the decision for them and released the sticking charm. She immediately tried to scramble away but he caught her wrists, never breaking his stride as he continued to fuck into her, and quickly tied them together with his discarded black tie.
He chuckled. “Almost like I’ve done this before, yeah?”
“Don't—“
He looped her arms over his head, forcing her to embrace him. She glared up at him as he grabbed a handful of her arse to hold her in place and repeatedly impaled her with his cock.
Her moans turned into grunts as he thrust faster and harder, the other hand gripping her thigh to hold her leg open so he could sink in deeper.
“Oh, fucking hell—“ he groaned loudly. “Yes, just like that, fuck, you feel so good.”
Her head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth open in hazy bliss as he mercilessly pounded into her. Her body finally relaxed, thighs falling open obediently as she let him fuck her.
“This is what you need isn’t it?”
When she didn’t answer he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, making her gasp and look up with watery eyes as she keened.
“You’re wound so fucking tight all the time, aren’t you? Making all these important decisions for the good of Wizarding Britain.”
She nodded wordlessly. Tears of pleasure and pain streamed down her face as he roughly drove himself into her again and again.
“You need someone like me to help, don’t you, Hermione? Someone to take all your power and control away.”
He thrust faster, sensing another orgasm building inside her.
“Someone to use this perfect little cunt, force you to become nothing but a desperate little slut as I fuck it until I’ve had enough.”
“Yes,” she moaned, eyes closing again as her fingers lightly stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.
He closed the distance and kissed her, chest fluttering as she complied easily, opening her mouth and letting him explore with his tongue, still fresh with the taste of her come on it. She didn’t seem to mind, sloppily kissing him back until they broke for air.
"It's mine, isn't it?" He looked down at where they joined, the wet sounds of arousal echoing through the office.
She shook head. Still in denial, apparently.
"Like you have a say," he laughed.
She may own Wizarding Britain, but he owned her.
“So, without further ado, it is my great privilege to announce the passing of Bill 394: the Werewolf Reform Act, legislation that will end the denial of sustainable employment to those classified as magical creatures.”
For a heartbeat, the atrium seemed to hold its breath.
Then the room broke apart in sound. Applause thundered through the hall, swelling into cheers and whistles that echoed against the high ceilings. Relief moved through the crowd like a living thing. Some openly wept, hands pressed to mouths, shoulders shaking beneath the weight of something long fought for and finally won.
Cameras erupted in another frenzy of light, flashes bursting bright enough to momentarily blind anyone standing too close to the stage.
Beside him, Potter dragged a hand beneath his glasses, not nearly subtle enough as he wiped at the corner of one eye. A grin spread across his face as he turned toward Weasley, the two of them laughing in shared triumph, years of effort settling into something real at last.
But Draco barely noticed.
Because she turned then.
For the first time since stepping onto the stage, her gaze found his across the crowded atrium. A slight lift of her brow—small enough that no one else would have caught it, intimate in its restraint.
The noise around him dulled into something distant. Draco swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, his eyes dropping to stare hungrily at his come dripping down her fucking thighs.
Stiffling a groan, he pressed his teeth against the inside of his lip.
Merlin.
She was going to be the death of him.
“Gonna fill you up,” he vowed, still looking down at the heavenly sight of his slick covered cock disappearing in her cunt.
“No!” She yelled, suddenly pulling back, eyes wide as she tried to shove him off and kick him with her legs.
But Draco was faster. He grabbed her by each thigh and spread her wide open, holding her down as he kept on fucking her.
“Just shut up and take it,” he growled. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from emptying into you.”
She whined in protest, but her hips started rising to meet his trusts, breathy moans escaping her kiss-bitten lips.
He grinned, undeterred, sucking on her pulse point. “What would your friends think if they knew you were in here being fucked and used by a Death Eater’s dick?”
“Stop—“ she whined.
“No. You’re going to make that little speech while everyone’s watching you stand at the podium with my fucking come dripping down your legs like the slut you are.”
“Oh—fuck—god, Draco!”
“That’s it, come for me again so I can fill you. I know you want it.”
He bit down on her neck, hard, and she screamed in rapturous surrender—entire body shuddering in ecstasy as she came once more, tightening and fluttering around his cock. It was then that he knew he couldn’t hold off any longer.
“Look, baby,” he ordered, “watch me fuck my come into your sweet little cunt knowing you’re powerless against me.”
Her hooded eyes lowered and watched helplessly as he thrust once, twice more, coming deep inside her with a satisfied groan.
"Fuck, yes—so good, Hermione.”
They stayed like that a long moment, both trying to catch their breath and come back down to earth.
Wordlessly, Draco reached up and gently removed her arms from his neck. He pulled the tie off her wrists and massaged them as he pressed a soft kiss against her lips.
“You okay, baby?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, scooting closer and pulling him in for another kiss.
A sudden knock on her office door had them both stiffening, turning to see a distorted shadow through the frosted glass.
“Minister, they’re ready for you!” Her assistant called.
Draco removed the silencing charm so Hermione could clear her throat and yell, “I’ll be out in a moment, Gloria!”
He regretfully pulled out with a hiss, already missing her warmth.
“Don’t forget, it’s your turn to write to the children.” She reminded him as she hopped off the desk.
“I know. I’ll do it when we get home,” he said absentmindedly, watching her pull a replacement dress and knickers from a bag charmed with an extension charm.
“We also have tea with your parents tomorrow, did I tell you that?”
“You did not,” he said, zipping the dress up her slender frame before frowning. “No knickers, baby.”
Hermione scoffed, bending down to step into the scrap of fabric and jostle it up her legs. “As much as I love the thought of your come dripping down my thighs while I give the werewolf legislation speech, we both know it can’t happen.”
“Fine,” he sighed, a faint pout tugging at his mouth as he reached for his tie.
She took it from him before he could manage it himself, looping it around his neck and knotting it with practiced ease—the same effortless motion she had repeated every morning for the past fifteen years of their marriage.
“I’m still a bit nervous, Draco.”
He lifted her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, his expression softening as he offered her a quiet, reassuring smile. “Don’t be. You’re brilliant.”
Her answering smile was brighter, warmed by affection and the kind of trust only years could build—steady, familiar, woven through every shared morning and unspoken understanding.
“Thank you for helping me relax, Head Auror Malfoy."
He grinned, unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “My pleasure, Minister Malfoy.”
Sensing his cue, Draco crossed the stage in three long strides and offered Hermione his hand. She took it without hesitation, stepping down gracefully as he guided her away from the atrium and back toward level one.
At the lifts, he waited with practiced patience while she embraced Potter and Weasley, promising to have them over for dinner later that week. The sounds of the still cheering crowd lingered even as the gilded gates slid shut behind them. Then the lift began its steady descent.
The moment they were alone, Draco turned on her. In a single movement he crowded her gently against the wall, one hand braced beside her head as he looked down at her, his expression edged with suspicion and amusement. His head tilted slightly.
“What happened to the knickers you insisted on wearing?”
Hermione smiled with maddening innocence as she caught hold of his tie—the very one that had been wound around her wrists only a short time ago—and gave it a slow tug.
“I vanished them,” she said coyly. “Thought you deserved a reward for being such a good husband.”
Draco let her draw him down into a kiss, possessive yet passionate. A sudden exciting idea occurred to him, and he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, searching her face.
“Do you have any more meetings today?”
Her smirk deepened, slow and knowing.
"Just one."