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As Hermione rushed to her class, she cursed herself for possibly being late. Had she known the whole day was going to be terrible she might have just stayed in bed.
Hermione was never late to class, but in this instance, she had been studying until three a.m. the night before and had forgotten her Potions textbook in her dorm. Which meant that she had to run back through the winding corridors and ever-moving stairs to grab it. She rarely ever crammed like this with her studies, instead preferring to stick to a strict and rigorous schedule that accounted time for classes, eating, prefect duties, extracurriculars and even slotted in social time with her friends. She also had a backup schedule this year which forwent the social time entirely. It was worth it, she had to make a head start on her application.
Every year, the Ministry of Magic selected one apprentice to work in close capacity with the Minister. They received specialist training in each department, including the secretive Department of Mysteries, building numerous contacts with delegates and foreign diplomats over the next three years before being given a managerial role in a department of their choosing. Since the introduction of the scheme, all Ministers barring one incompetent Basil Flack had won a place. And as far as Hermione was concerned, she wasn’t going to be a Minister like Basil Flack.
Even though most people started their applications in seventh year, Hermione wanted to be a step ahead by starting in sixth year. And she was thankful she had considering the way it was going, being sabotaged left and right by her nemesis.
All in all, Hermione’s carefully curtailed plan had gone to the dogs.
Perhaps if Hermione knew that her day was going to go wrong once more, she would have tried to find methods to alter her course. But unfortunately for Hermione, she didn’t hold too much stock in Divination – it was definitely not a subject she had decided to continue this year – and would never give credence to hokum magic and thus would never really believe the predication. Plus the time-turners she had been using in third year, had been dolefully handed in.
So that day, she burst into her double Potions class, glad to find the teacher hadn’t arrived, and hurried towards her seat, before nearly tripping.
A pair of long legs were suddenly blocking her way into the seat. And now that she had nearly fallen over, a hand darted out, keeping her from toppling over.
“Move Malfoy,” she hissed at the obnoxious blonde who had determinedly decided that he was going to ruin her day again.
“Now where are your manners Granger, I just saved you.” She hastily pulled out from his hand which he had wrapped around her waist.
“You were the one that tripped me,” she growled, hoisting her bag up once more.
“I was just stretching, and well I can’t help it if you’re unobservant and wanted to show everyone your knickers. Right, Blaise?”
Blaise smirked and shook his head in a ‘leave me out of this’ way. Thankfully Professor Slughorn walked into the classroom at that moment, and she took her seat knowing that she was moments away from hexing Malfoy.
She took a deep breath, it was the last day before she left for the Christmas holidays which meant she would be home with her parents, all the uninterrupted time she could study without irritating snakes like Draco Malfoy.
“Gods, he’s so annoying,” she muttered as she took her seat next to Harry who was doodling on his notebook.
“Who?”
“Draco Malfoy.”
“Oh, yeah he sucks. I guess.”
Ever since Harry had started mooning over Theo, enemy number one’s best friend, he had slowly started to drift away from her crusade of bringing down Draco. Instead, he and Draco had reached some sort of strange agreement of semi-friendship which allowed Harry to causally spend more time with Theo. This now meant they all had to spend time with Draco and his friends. Harry somehow managed to slip in effortlessly with the group of Slytherins whereas Hermione and Ron stuck it out together, shields up.
Only now Ron wasn’t here to defend her, or even agree that Draco was an utter twat, so she grumbled to herself, especially as Harry had gone back to his doodling and daydreaming about his crush.
If Hermione was honest, she enjoyed Theo’s company, he was incredibly sweet and had taken to memorising obscure muggle facts to test her knowledge. She didn’t even mind Blaise or Daphne, who were always polite when speaking to her. Hell, she was fast warming up to snooty Pansy. But not Draco. She’d never dare let her guard down, he was always ready to pounce. He’d be on her before she had a second to breathe.
She took a deep breath as Professor Slughorn entered the room with a flourish. Hermione liked the new Professor; he was much better than his predecessor Professor Snape who seemed to have forged a vendetta against her from first year and annoyingly seemed to be charmed by Draco.
Yearly, Draco managed to beat her in this class simply due to Snape’s bias. However, Slughorn was not the same, unlike Snape he had already complimented her. Even to go as far as inviting her into his esteemed and slightly oddly named “Slug Club” parties. A club for which she hadn’t quite gained entry yet. A place required one to be related to some well-known wizard/witch or relation within a great magical line or show great prowess. Hermione knew she had great ability in spades, her lack of network more than made up for that. She was going to get a place soon and in lieu, she would tolerate all the clumsy comments he made about her muggleborn status when speaking of her talent.
“Welcome, welcome class, and Merry Christmas to all. I do hope we are excited about the upcoming festivities. I for one, have been invited to a getaway by one of my former students Galvin Gudgeon (yes, yes, the infamous Seeker of the Chudleys) and of course, the whole team will be there, apparently a few more teams too.
“Oh I know what you may be thinking, and I’m not the biggest fan of Quidditch but I do keep up with the times. Now, of course, I’m sure you all have great things planned for your holidays, many for whom, I assume won’t be as luxurious and fun as mine, but nevertheless, we all can’t win right?
“As for that I don’t only attend parties, I also throw great exclusive parties, and with a great number of guests. Well for this one I’m curtailing attendance, only a few are invited to enter, which means spots are filling up fast. Why may you ask? Let me you in on a secret in attendance today we will have the honourable Minister Cornelius Fudge and Madame Priscilla Owusu.”
Hermione let out an involuntary gasp, one that made the class turn to look at her, but she paid them no mind. Priscilla Owusu was a legendary politician with a better track record, she was often credited with being the face of modern werewolf rights, not to mention her pivotal transformation on Goblin dwellings in the wizarding world.
Hermione felt herself having a kinship with Priscilla, she too fought for the rights of oppressed creatures. After all, she did set up the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (S.P.E.W), to help bring rights to house-elves. It was a shame there had been only one member of the club and that one being her, but she knew that it would soon catch on.
Hermione had sent her many letters hoping to set up a meeting, one that would eventually lead Priscilla to become a mentor of sorts, so that she could secure her for her reference letter. However, Priscilla was notoriously busy, and each letter came back from her assistant with candid thank you, and apologies and at this time Madame Owusu was fully booked and she should try again another time.
This was her chance to get her plan back on track.
“Yes, yes, Miss Granger is right, these are important contacts to have. Shall we talk about how one of you can secure a place at the party? Today, I’m expecting you all to be able to concoct two potions in an hour and a half’s time. For many of those of you who will become Potioneers, you may have to be working with multiple demands at once and it’s important to learn how to manage your time well. What potions you make, you choose. So, make sure to choose wisely. And a word of warning, make sure to clean your cauldrons in between well. We don’t want any mistakes, do we?”
He let out a little giggle, before heralding inane questions from the class. Hermione took this opportunity to detail and calculate the best and advanced potions she could manage in the time. There was a booming laugh and a clap before Slughorn swiftly turned the hourglass over.
Hermione was the first to jump up and run to the ingredient’s cabinet, whilst others were taking the time to flick through their textbooks. Hurriedly she grabbed the materials she needed, she was running on a tight schedule if she wanted to impress the professor.
When she arrived, Harry was still sitting in his seat flipping through his textbook.
“How are you prepared already?” He asked when she began slicing the Mandrake root in quick motions.
“I have to win, Harry. I have to be at that party.”
Draco scoffed loudly as he walked past her to his desk with his ingredients in tow, “Of course someone as simple as you would be impressed by them. My father has lunch with Fudge practically every week.”
“Malfoy, no offense, but I don’t really care to learn about your father’s dating life.”
And with that, she waved him off, not in the mood to hear him spluttering out a response. Hermione was going to win by any means necessary and she decidedly would be ignoring Malfoy today.
She worked a steady pace, but the brutality of the task had begun to take effect, sweaty and exhausted, with her curls doubled in size, she was ready for it to be finished.
When the sand slipped three-quarters away from touching the bottom half of the hourglass, Hermione had a sudden realisation she had forgotten to pick up the Shrivelfigs.
Mid-panic she dashed to the cabinet where she was greeted with the sight of Malfoy blocking the doorway.
“Excuse me.” She said as haughtily as she could manage.
“I was here first Granger, please wait patiently.”
“Hurry up, Malfoy,” she hissed behind him after he hadn’t changed his position.
He hummed ignoring her, placing his thumb and forefinger on his pointy chin, pretending to think.
She tried to reach for the Shrivelfigs but they were just out of reach and he wasn’t budging, instead opting to take up more space instead.
He picked up a jar and decided to turn it over and over, pretending to inspect at the contents before storing it away, and grabbing another jar.
“Malfoy, move.”
He tutted but made no effort to leave. Weren’t seekers meant to be skinny? He was near impossible to push. Impossibly sturdy.
Hermione who at this point kept glancing at the sand shifting down in the hourglass knew she had less than a minute before her potion would go brown and she’d unbearably have to start again, began to get frustrated, her curls beginning to spark now. She saw her dream of meeting Priscilla Owusu slip away, becoming the Ministry’s apprentice, no longer on the fast track to being Minister of Magic…
Enraged she imagined strangling him with his tie, or using a bat-bogey hex. Gods she wanted to lock him in this dresser and blow it up.
A splinter was heard next to her, and suddenly in quick succession, the bottles started cracking, bits of Fluxweed flying down around, and suddenly, Hermione found herself being pushed out and on to the ground before Draco toppled next to her stumbling over the spilled Castor Beans awkwardly.
Sitting up, she watched the cabinet groan and creak before completely collapsing in front of her in one loud bang. Hermione’s ears began to ring, and a loud wail erupted from somewhere, shakily she realised it was Slughorn.
When Minerva McGonagall was enlisted to take over as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she was sure she could do a better job than her predecessor Albus Dumbledore.
Then she came across all the unfinished tasks strewn across the office, suddenly she wished she had a time-turner to go back and stop her former self from agreeing to the post.
Headmaster Dumbledore had currently left the position to pursue his passion. The man was embarking on the dangerous journey to find the item he desired most in his life. Claiming he could no longer waste more time in the trivial work of running Britain’s only magical boarding school. He had taken the decision, not lightly of course. So off he went to pursue the incredibly challenging task of finding the perfect pair of socks.
And before Minerva should dare to ask, no a pair of socks from Twilfitt and Tattings were not the right sort, it was not about the brand, how dare she even suggest such a thing! Slightly insulted and annoyed he had spoken over her before she could even begin to open her mouth. She nodded silently and didn’t dare to question why he was embarking on this journey with a student’s private house-elf. Then of course she didn’t dare warn of said student’s wealthy family, who had very little to do all day. Or their great capacity for meddling. Not to mention the patriarch’s seat held on the board of governors at said school. Or the influence held over at the Ministry of Magic which could easily allow them to peruse a lawsuit. She kept silent. Not that she was frightened of them, but she’d let Albus deal with the Wizengamot on his own.
It was typical of Albus to make infuriating decisions, after all he could have taken one of the thousand house-elves at Hogwarts. In a moment of weakness, she had even owled him asking for advice and begged him to swap out his companion, the letter came back unopened.
But an unreachable ex-headmaster was not Minerva’s biggest problem, instead, it was her students, specifically the two she had been thinking of nominating as Head Girl and Head Boy. Her two best students. Both were currently slouched in chairs across from her desk facing away from each other. Unlike the many tireless duties Dumbledore had not warned her about, this particular discovery was not entirely unknown to Minerva. Hermione and Draco had been rivals from the moment they had stepped into Hogwarts, constantly vying for the honour as the top student in their year.
The two were always flammable when they entered into each other’s orbits, but now that they were older, she had hoped the fire would tame, it seemed to have only exploded as they reached closer to graduation.
Initially, it had been Professor Sinistra who had dragged the two in, as their argument had led to a first year crying in the alcove, she had given them Percy Weasley’s newly published book: A Head Boy & Girl’s Ultimate Guide: The Perfect Way to Serve Your School. Hoping that the book was a guide, and promise of something they could expect next year if they behaved.
Of course, it was the one book that didn’t sink in as Professor Díaz dragged them into her office because they had gotten into an argument about Fwoopers, and then proceeded to mimic what they thought was the right noise the creature made in the middle of her class. Hoping to deter them, they were given the meaningless assignment of writing fifty-inch parchment’s worth on Fwoopers.
Today she was dealing with newly rehired Professor Slughorn who was currently threatening to quit as the pair had ended up spilling expensive ingredients to the floor including Slughorn’s 500-year-old aged bat wings. Destroyed in a matter of moments.
“Horace, please,” she pleaded, she really didn’t need this problem to add to her growing list of tasks to sort out at Hogwarts. A stabbing pain had started on her frontal cortex, a migraine was about to begin. Minerva took the biggest sigh she could manage inaudibly before she began.
“Quite frankly, I’m disappointed that we’re having to meet like this again. Professor Slughorn is right, I cannot let this behaviour continue for any longer. Would the two of you care to explain why I’m having to deal with this once more?”
“I’m so sorry Professor,” Hermione whimpered.
“I expected better from you Miss Granger, accidental magic is acceptable when one isn’t practiced nor in control, this is a stage I expected you to have grown out from. What happened today was incredibly dangerous for both you and Mister Malfoy, as well as a number of students and poor Professor Slughorn here.”
Hermione Granger promptly burst into tears, loud sobs that stopped Slughorn’s whining in his tracks, “I’m so sorry,” she repeated tearfully.
“It’s okay, Miss Granger,” he said kindly, a little frightened at her tears, “I’m sure we can get the mess cleaned up before the guests arrive.”
“Why don’t Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy clean up as their detention, Horace?”
“Yes, that’s a splendid idea.”
“Glad to hear.” She fixed her steely gaze on the two students. “Please arrive at the classroom at five p.m. sharp, after your classes are done.”
“Five p.m.?” Draco practically screeched, “I cannot, I have Quidditch practice from four till six.”
“Well, I suppose you should have considered that before creating a mess for poor Professor Slughorn today.”
“I don’t understand why I’m being punished for her mistakes.”
“Mister Malfoy, I have no doubt in my mind, you have had some involvement in this. The pair of you are constantly goading each other.”
“He was,” Hermione hiccupped out, managing to glare at him.
“This is crazy,” Draco growled, “she tries to kill me because she’s incapable of keeping her magic in tow and I’m the one being told off. I’m sick and tired of this and your blatant favouritism.”
“My magic is control, it’s your fault it -”
“ENOUGH!”
“It’s clear you both have a lot to say, but that conversation will NOT be happening in this office anymore. You two will work out your problems by any means necessary. Funem Invisibilica.”
She lifted her wand pointing back and forth between the two until a light, golden string materialised in the air one end disappeared into Hermione and the other in Draco, before turning invisible entirely.
“I’m tethering the two of you together until you work this out. Whatever issue you seem to have will be worked out between the both of you, no more unsuspecting third parties will be involved.
“But –”
“No interruptions right now Miss Granger. Let me warn you, should you try to avoid each other, you will experience a pain akin to being cursed. Once the two have forgiven each other, and truly come to peace, will the spell disintegrate. Am I clear?”
“I’m going home for the holidays,” Draco whined, “she’s not coming with me. I’m not suffering through Christmas because of her, she’s already caused me so much trauma.”
“Well then, Mister Malfoy, I suppose you better resolve this issue quickly then. If the two of you don’t work this out, and there is another issue I have to deal with, then I’m willing to even go as suspend the two of you, as it's clear that you need more time to really settle what I’m saying to you. Now do tell me how that’ll look on your Ministry application?”
She would never suspend her best students, but there was no harm in implying that it could happen.
“No please, no,” Hermione shrieked immediately, and even Draco sat up straight, his face ashen at the threat.
Hermione took a deep breath, and clenched the handles of the seat, to calm herself before beginning to speak again, “Headmistress McGonagall, I don’t believe that’s quite necessary. I promise that nothing like this will ever occur again. I take my responsibilities as a witch and prefect very seriously.”
Draco scoffed, when all three turned to glare at his interruption, he looked down at the floor, his cheeks tingeing red.
“Would you like to add any comments here, Mister Malfoy? Maybe more about my blatant favouritism.”
Draco huffed crossing his arms but didn’t dare speak out.
“Good, out!” She pointed towards her office door, “I am banning you both from coming into this office unless I call for you.”
They slunk out of the office heads hung in shame.
“Would you look at that, perhaps Slughorn is not best suited for the Potions job after all.”
McGonagall snapped her head up to see her successor slink into her office. He had not stopped complaining about the promotion, hoping he’d get the role of Dark Arts Professor instead of her role as the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmaster.
“The talk of the school is that they managed to destroy the classroom,” he drawled lazily circling the room.
“Severus, you gossip more than an old biddy. It took us far too long to convince Horace to come back. I’m not giving you that job. In any case, I have charmed them together, they’ll work it out together.”
“You cannot possibly charm them together; we cannot have another Boothe incident on hand. Do you really want Lucius Malfoy to find out you tethered his child to a muggleborn? Yes, I said muggleborn, Minerva, he won’t use that word.”
She groaned, he was right, if Lucius hadn’t found out by his house-elf yet, he would most definitely create a fuss about his heir being charmed at a board meeting. But she really couldn’t take any more of Hermione and Draco’s fighting. She stilled for a moment, watching Severus’s smug smile, considering if she could perhaps get away with it.
“Merlin, must you be such a stickler, you’re almost as bad as the two of them,” she sighed, realising she would not get anything done today, before speaking the reverse incantation ignoring Severus’s dramatic gasp at the comparison.
“Granger, listen, now that we’re stuck together- ” Draco started as soon as they walked out of the office.
“I hate you. I hate you,” she shrieked, interrupting him, her voice echoing off the walls. “Draco Malfoy, I wish that cabinet had collapsed on top of you.”
She watched his grey eyes harden, wishing she could take back the words but at the same time this was once more his fault, and God she deserved to hold this anger. Neither of them noticed the golden string reappear out of them before disappearing into a wisp of smoke.
With a stomp of her feet she turned her back on him, and practically ran to her dorm room ignoring the tight pain that had begun to unfurl in her chest and the tug that was trying to pull her in the opposite direction.
Hermione spent the rest of the evening curled up sobbing in her bed, there was no way she could face any more classes. She felt so incredibly sick and sore that when she asked a house-elf to report she was unwell to her remaining teachers, she couldn’t even find the strength to persuade her helper to join S.P.E.W.
When her friends came to cajole her out of bed in the afternoon, hoping some fresh air would make her feel better. She refused, quelling the strangest gut feeling to say yes and take a walk on the Quidditch field.
With an hour to go before her detention began, an idea popped into her head. Excited she scampered out of bed, jotting notes onto cue cards before refreshing herself with a shower. Determined she changed into a fresh uniform and robes, making sure to set her curls neatly.
The war wasn’t over yet.
As she nearly skipped to the Potion’s classroom, excitement lacing every skip, she felt lighter, the coil unwinding.
She scowled when greeted with the sight of Slughorn and Malfoy bonding at the entrance of Slughorn’s office. Damn Slughorn for being such a desperate social-climbing twit. He was clearly being won over by Draco’s wiles. Well, if they were busy talking, she could get to working, and then maybe Slughorn would be impressed at her instead.
What completely surprised her was Malfoy was wearing a long sleeve polo, decked out with his house logo and colours (of course) but with grey joggers and no robe to be seen. How could pureblood Malfoy even debase himself to appear in such casual clothes out in public? He looked practically muggle.
“Watch yourself,” she heard being yelled at her as she decided to make a head start on cleaning the strewn ingredients which hadn’t been moved. A rancid smell wafted into her nose.
She was quickly yanked back, into a damp chest of muscle. Hermione quickly realised how much of Draco she could feel when he wasn’t wearing his robes.
“That’s twice, I’ve saved you now,” he whispered against her. She hadn’t noticed the shimmering orange glow above the small, dark puddle distracted by her musings. On closer inspection, she noticed the puddle was a bottomless pit.
She wrestled out of his embrace, no matter how much she was enjoying it, she was not going to snuggle against the worst human being on earth. Not even a tiny one.
“And each time it was your fault,” she replied glaring at him.
“Ah Miss Granger,” huffed Slughorn as he waddled over, “I’ll have the elves working on cleaning this mess, I think it’s best if you two could decorate my office for the party instead.”
Two elves popped into the room, with a large bucket and cloth.
“Please leave, sirs and madam, it very dangerous,” warned the smallest elf.
“Yes, yes. Very well Winky, follow me Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy now let me show what you needs to be done.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she hissed at Malfoy as soon as Slughorn exited the room after a detailed explanation on how he’d like the room decorated wherein he managed to hold back his name dropping to a few names.
“And what exactly is it I am doing, Granger,” he drawled back, rolling up the sleeves of his top. Transfixed she watched him stow heavy boxes filled with tomes into a small cupboard. She couldn’t form a response, when had Malfoy gained those muscles?
As far as she could recall, he had always been skinny, he was still lean, yes but it was different. It was near impossible to tell under the school robes, not that she spent a long time thinking about him under his robes. But Merlin, for some reason, she really couldn't look away from those joggers of his.
He cleared his throat interrupting her thoughts, she glanced up to see him wearing a smug smile. She went red, all thoughts of what was underneath his robes went out and were replaced with rage. What in the bloody hell was in the dastardly spell McGonagall had cast upon her? It was ruining her brain. She made a mental note to search it up in the library as soon as she was done here.
“You were trying to persuade him to let you come to the party. I’m sure you were making less than favourable comments about me.”
“I was trying to cheer him up. His classroom and materials are in complete disarray. I hate to break to you, but the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Probably because of your head’s large gravitational force,” she muttered underneath her breath.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said there, would you mind repeating it again.”
“No, I would not. Leave me alone, Malfoy,” she snapped back moving to the back of the office, disregarding the strange tugging sensation in her stomach.
They managed to work in relative silence after that, until it came for her to hang the white billowy curtains. Deceptively heavy, she initially tried the Levitation spell but exhausted by setting up the rest of the room, she found that they barely lifted out of the box. A few attempts later, she was standing on a small, rickety stool draping them by hand. The ceilings of the office were high and required her to strain her arms trying to catch the hooks. A tinge of regret flowed through her for wearing such formal clothes, proving a hindrance to the situation.
“You’re doing it wrong,”
“I’m fine thank you,” she replied haughtily as she pushed forward in a half lunge trying to desperately connect the hooks.
The stool tilted under the movement propelling her out of balance. Apparent that she was about to hit the floor, a shriek escaped her, as she readied herself for the impact of the stone floor.
It never came. She found herself caught up in Malfoy’s arms again as he steadied her straight.
“That makes three,” he murmured against her as she tried to control her deep breaths, watching his eyes glance down at her heaving chest. She pulled the curtain closer to her. A barrier.
“One,” she conceded, enjoying his warmth. Her magic hummed, her body sagged against the wall behind her, she hadn’t realised how tight she had been wound all afternoon. His presence a balm to her overwrought body.
She watched him charm the curtains, as they spun like tornados before hooking themselves into their rightful places.
“How did you do that?” She murmured.
“Magic.”
She flustered at his condescending response ready to snap back at him. But now with no material between them to hold her ground, he leaned in closer as if being pulled in by her body. His blonde hair glowing now that the sun had begun to set and early afternoon was turning into twilight. His eyes darkened. She forgot all her words.
“How utterly predictable,” he sighed.
She opened her mouth, ready to defend her honour, when she followed his line of sight noticing the mistletoe reaching towards them.
“You know,” her high-pitched voice broke the awkward beat of silence that had descended upon them as they locked eyes again. She felt herself squirming under his heated gaze, she hated when he looked at her like that, it scrambled her brain.
“According to Qureshi’s Insight into the Magical Properties of Hemiparasitic Plants, the wizarding origin of mistletoe only lowers uhm, when both parties’ consent to uhm...the kiss,” she continued blabbing, her confusing thoughts escaping from her mouth.
“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said, Granger.” His long nose skimmed up her throat, setting alight small fires in its trail, before catching her lips. She pulled him closer, gliding her hands up his polo, as his hands crept underneath her robes and skirt, palming her ass.
Divesting herself of her robe entirely, she rubbed her legs, delighting in the sensation of the bulge of his thick cock pressing into her. Wondering how he would fit inside her, hopefully stretching her taut, filling her to the brim.
Heady at the thought, she released a breathy little moan in his mouth, relishing at his hips bucking in response. A teeny, tiny voice inside her was questioning what exactly she was doing at this moment, this was enemy number one, she needed to - she needed to –
Her train of thought went off the rails, as he began sucking at the sensitive juncture of her neck, the bit she liked most, his fingers stroking her thighs, under her skirt. She gasped when the strokes reached higher over her soaking knickers before he dipped underneath the band, slipping inside her. Slow, gentle, teasing.
“More Malfoy,” she whined; his leisurely tempo was not helping the urge in her core.
“You’re so bloody impatient, Granger,” he smirked down at her plight, she slapped his chest.
“Not to mention violent.”
Half-expecting him to set a quicker pace, she wailed when he stopped, instead removing his fingers entirely. Before she could object, she watched utterly entranced as he winked at her before licking and sucking on his fingers in an infuriating and not to mention deliberately slow pace. Almost as if he was savouring the taste.
God, she was going to murder him… as soon as he finished.
She bucked her hips up against him, feeling far more drenched after his show, like he could sense her thoughts, his fingers found themselves back in her core swirling quickly this time, as he kissed his way down her clothed body, taking time to suck and tease her breasts in particular, kneeling when he got to her lower body.
He pulled up her skirt, yanking down her panties, and pressed his face into her core, surprised by the suddenness of the action, her hands gripped tightly on his soft hair.
She paid no heed to the desperate moans and whines that were escaping her mouth, instead wrapping one of her trembling legs around his shoulder as his nimble fingers found her clit, his tongue sucking and licking away in her core until she tipped over the edge sobbing his name.
She allowed him to lavish soft kisses on her thighs, as she came down from her high. Before grabbing his collar pulling him up towards her mouth capturing him in a kiss once more.
“Ahem, ahem,” an interruption followed with a loud cough felt like a cold bucket of water on her head.
They hastily turned around to see a smirking Slughorn in flamboyant robes accompanied by two similarly over the top-dressed frowning guests. A red-cheeked Minister Fudge was staring at the ceiling whereas Madame Owusu was looking at them, her eyebrows raised, lips pursed as if suckling on hard-boiled sweets.
“We were, we were,” started Hermione dread beginning to trickle down her body as she hastily smoothed out her clothing, not a single excuse coming to her head.
“Yes, very well. Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy, I see you have done a smashing job with setting up. I think it’s best if you two head out now.”
“Yes, professor,” they mumbled as they moved to leave. The weight of the cue cards in her robes felt like heavy rocks weighing her down.
“See you soon, young Malfoy,” called out Fudge joyfully as they walked past shamefaced. Malfoy nodded in response.
“No, no, no,” Hermione mumbled when they were safely in the corridor burying her head in her hands.
“Come on, Granger, I wasn’t that bad,” Draco teased, as he guided into her alcove, sitting her down on the sill of the arched window.
“I’m ruined,” she moaned, “I ruined my chance. She’s going to hate me.”
She practically threw herself at the worst person in the world, and now her reputation was in tatters in front of the two most powerful people in Wizarding society. Karma. No, not karma, McGonagall had truly cursed her with his spell.
“If you’re worried, I’m sure I can speak to my parents and we can come to some sort of deal to make sure it doesn’t get out.”
“Blackmail,” she seethed, “You will never understand, Malfoy, people like you can never understand.”
“Then tell me.”
She glanced up at him, his grey eyes earnest as they bore into her, messy blonde hair falling into his forehead, he looked innocent. Like she could tell him her secrets and he wouldn’t laugh in her face. Like he wasn’t enemy number one. Only he was.
“You can’t possibly understand it. People like me, we can’t even get a proper reply, all I wanted was five minutes with them to show much I can do,” she pulled the cue cards out of her pockets waving them at his face. “I prepped for this, I had a speech, all I wanted was one reference letter from Madame Owusu. I can’t even get that, let alone time at parties, how can muggleborns like me possibly mingle with them at soirées, or galas, or lunches? How can we, when purebloods like you are there stopping us from even entering?”
“I see it would be easier if the cabinet toppled over me, one less pureblood to deal with,” he spat out, “And for what it’s worth, you drive me crazy but I never sabotaged you because of your blood status.”
“Malfoy,” she whispered catching on to his sleeve, as he stood to leave. “Draco.” She tried again, “I didn’t mean it. I’m really sorry, I said that, I was just frustrated.”
“And now that I’ve eased your frustration, your murderous feelings towards me have all but disappeared.”
“Yes, something like that,” she said wryly, nudging his pointy chin with her fingers when he sat back down. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Granger, these politicians, they’re all the same. They care about lunches and galas, but they don’t care about the people. If they really did, they would take time to meet with passionate people like you. They should be running to give you a reference.”
He spoke slowly this time as if considering his words, “I suppose I don’t understand your idealism.”
“I think one just needs an opportunity to create change. After all, you’re also competing with me for the Apprenticeship.”
“Yes, well, that’s not really my desire, is it,” he blurted out.
“And whose desire is it?” She asked, stroking his cheek hoping to erase the solemn expression from his face. “I didn’t think Malfoys deigned themselves to work.”
He sighed, “They don’t, but my father lost some control after his association with Riddle. He thinks if I get in, I can secure the relationships once more.”
“And what is it you want to do?”
He leaned his head back onto the window, “I think Auror, I would like that sense of adventure.”
“I think you could be a good Auror, Malfoy. I mean you’ve rescued me once already.”
“Three times. But I have, haven’t I?” He puffed up his chest before smirking slyly at her. “You know, if you really want a chance to meet them, you could come to my family’s annual Christmas Gala. I’ll introduce you.”
“You’re only asking because McGonagall has bound us together. All of these feelings we have here is because of the spell.”
“I am not, and in any case, you already apologised,” he pointed out, “the spell should be lifted.”
“No, it would require you to apologise too,” she reminded him.
“I am sorry Hermione Granger.”
“I forgive you,” she replied immediately.
“I don’t feel any different,” Hermione spoke after a while. Both waiting on tenterhooks waiting for the charm to reveal itself.
“Maybe we should go to McGonagall, and ask her to remove the spell.”
“She banned us from her office, remember?”
“Come to the gala with me. Seriously, Hermione, there are no strings attached.”
“And this isn’t a ploy to get me in your bed at home?” She teased.
Draco choked slightly. “Merlin, yes,” he breathed.
Hermione burst out laughing, slapping his thigh, “stop.”
“No strings,” he promised soulfully. “We could be friends.”
“Friends,” she replied slowly as the memory of his mouth and hands ravishing her body popped back into her mind.
Hermione had spent most of her days, owling Draco back and forth since they had left Hogwarts for the holidays but still missing him terribly. She found that Draco was incredibly funny and charming when they weren’t busy fighting. The tight string in her stomach coiled once more and she found herself constantly thinking about meeting him. Thought about their kiss. Their moment.
Sure this was the result of McGonagall’s spell, she resisted till the day of the gala, no matter how painful it was and how much her body needed him, a tug that was begging her to be in his arms.
Excited and filled with trepidation, she approached the manor in the most expensive golden gown she could afford. The saleslady had pulled it out of the back when Hermione had started rambling about why she needed the dress to be perfect. At the time she had protested, at the audaciousness of it, until she wore it. Then she couldn’t get over how it hugged every dip and curve of her body, the intricate beading making her sparkle, the skirt long enough to be modest but no sleeves to be modern, almost muggle.
She had spent the day getting made up, her body a bundle of nerves at the thought of seeing him – meeting his family.
Only when she saw him waiting for her at the door, looking incredibly handsome in his perfectly tailored, designer dress robes, she forgot all customs or manners, picked up her dress, and half-ran to hug him.
“If this is how you greet all your friends. I regret annoying you in the first place,” he teased holding her tight.
“Draco, I think I want the strings,” she had barely said the sentence out loud before his mouth descended upon hers.
It felt like returning home again. She knew this. His taste, his smell. The contours of his neck, how the slope of his shoulders fit in her hands. The cord that had been pulled taut inside her over the last few days, relaxed.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, breaking from the kiss before they got too caught up in each other. They had enough witnesses to their indiscretions already.
“Me too, I find that my memories just don’t compare to the real thing.” She blushed as he took the time to appraise her body.
“Is my dress okay?” She fretted, smoothing her hands down the front.
“Perfect. You look perfectly pureblood." He murmured extending his arm for her to take.
Despite being named Malfoy Manor, Hermione felt the word ‘palace’ would be the better term for it. The marble was a golden hue underneath the twinkling stars, warm and inviting, fairies swooped and dipped leaving behind sparkling clouds of green and red magic dust floating in the air. Decorated fir trees lined the path towards the house. A muffled sound of chatter and cheer could be heard from outside, sparking the curiosity of the newcomer.
It felt like a whole new wondrous world had opened up for Hermione, as she approached the higher echelons of Wizarding society. It was eye-opening to see how accommodating they became when they realised her association with the Malfoys. Something gnawed in her stomach about her treatment, but she ignored it because the evening was splendid, even Draco’s parents were pleasant. Well as pleasant a Sacred Twenty-Eight member could be to the muggleborn on the arm of their only son.
“It’s nice to see you and Mister Malfoy getting along well,” mentioned Headmistress McGonagall when Hermione approached her to say hello.
“Professor, I was wondering if you could explain to me why the spell has not lifted despite me and Draco having forgiven each other.”
“Oh, I’m not sure, dear, I lifted the spell as soon as you left my office. You see teachers shouldn’t really be casting spells on students, it is incredibly dangerous.”
Hermione felt her mind short-circuit, as the Headmistress peered at the crowd over her glasses, with a small smile on her face.
“Oh, please do excuse me, my dear. I seem to have spotted the Head of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, I need to speak to him to see if we can have both trolls and dragons in one task for the next round of the Triwizard Tournament.”