Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE: The First Kiss
Friday, December 1st, 2006
The first Hogwarts staff members to get caught under the enchanted mistletoe that year had been arguing over the disciplining of a student in the middle of a very busily-trafficked Third Floor corridor. Said student had taken the opportunity of the momentary distraction of his Professors' explosive quarrel to skedaddle away as fast as his little Slytherin feet could take him, as the thunderously-angry Heads of both his House and Gryffindor's shouted the roof down.
"Last time: he's from my House, I'll be the one to decide his punishment, Granger. Stick your bossy, busy-body nose out of it!" the Potions Master fumed at her, his eyes living storm clouds.
Hermione glared at Draco Malfoy, crossing her arms and tilting her head up to meet his eye, refusing to be cowed by her childhood rival's tempestuous countenance.
He'd been pushing her buttons since he'd arrived on staff September the year before, but his antagonism had reached new heights this school year, as if he received some sort of sick, sadistic pleasure from resuming their former, equally-shared loathing, discounting the fact that they were now adult professionals forced to work together. It was as if the war and the years between were merely a skip of time to be discounted by him, the lessons learned from that dark time forgotten.
She still didn't understand why he was behaving thusly, but Hermione Granger had never allowed herself to be cowed before - not by Bellatrix Lestrange under the Cruciatus Curse, and certainly not by her former husband, Ron Weasley, who had demanded she choose between becoming his personal baby-making factory over her career two years ago...which was precisely why he was her ex now.
"Clever use of alliteration won't do you a lick of good in deciding the matter, Malfoy," she sniped back. "The facts are that your student was leaving my classroom when he intentionally decided to trip up Melly Goodstone and send her flying into the corridor. As such, it's my jurisdiction, hence my discretion to mete out the detention." She boldly poked him in his rather solid chest, causing him to arch one, perfectly-shaped, dark gold eyebrow in surprise. "You can bugger on back to the dungeons where you belong, blondie, and let me handle this situation. I'm taking twenty points from Slytherin!"
Right as her colleague opened his mouth to argue the issue, a sprig of magical verdue crept downward between them, blossoming small white, unmistakable berries.
"Fuck," her counterpart swore the moment he recognized the danger, causing a gaggle of passing girls to break out into hysterical laughter.
"Language!" Hermione castigated him under her breath in a hiss, although secretly, she was in total agreement.
She grabbed at the mistletoe and yanked even knowing the futility of the act, but the persistent weed remained firmly rooted on the spot.
With a disgusted sigh, she gave up.
It was settled, then: until the requirements to break the spell were met, they were both stuck in place.
"Well, this is certainly…awkward."
Malfoy let out a rather indelicate snort in agreement.
"I think we are both aware that 'awkward' fails to adequately capture the gravity and horror of this situation fully, Granger," he murmured with an annoyed sense of resignation. He ran a frustrated hand through his short, platinum-blond fringe to move it from his eyes. "This is nothing short of an unmitigated disaster, and you know it."
Just then, Neville Longbottom and Pomona Sprout, who shared the duties of teaching Herbology this year, as Pomona was finally retiring, and Neville, her former apprentice, was stepping into her shoes full-time, rounded the corner ahead. Hermione's friend raised his hand and waved a jovial 'hello'…then noticed the mistletoe and who was standing directly under it. His hand fell, as did his smile.
"Whoa, that's a bit of bad luck," he stated the obvious.
"You think?" Malfoy snarked, his temper getting the best of him.
Clearing her throat, Hermione decided she'd had enough of this foolishness. Embarrassed to be caught in so compromising a position and with some small indignation to boot - she wasn't that bad to snog! Ron had certainly liked doing it with her well enough! - she grabbed a hold of Draco Malfoy's robed collar with a firm grip.
"There's nothing for it if we wish to get on with our day."
With that, she rather violently yanked him down and planted a quick smooch upon his mouth, giving him absolutely no time to debate the issue nor adequately to prepare himself for the experience.
His hands never touched her, his body never pressed in; only the buzzing sensation of his soft, warm lips told Hermione that the experience hadn't been as unpleasant as she'd assumed it would be. She took further solace in the fact – not to mention a bit of smug satisfaction – that Malfoy seemed as astonished as she that neither of them had spontaneously combusted upon contact.
That done, she let him go, expecting to move along without delay.
Her feet refused her commands, however, the heavy-duty Sticking Charm keeping them firmly in place.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" she growled, whipping out her wand and waving it about, trying every spell she could think of – including Incendio on the weed.
No luck. It was as stubborn to destroy as a Horcrux!
Professor Sprout burst into giggles.
"My dear, you're not the first to incorrectly believe that a simple kiss would fulfill the mistletoe's requirements! A healthy snog's what's called for!"
As she and Neville continued on down the hall to give their co-workers some privacy, she could be heard telling her apprentice her own tale of mistletoe trickery.
"Why, I, myself, tried to escape Severus Snape in exactly the same manner about twenty years ago! Imagine my surprise when he…"
They turned the corner and were gone.
As they were now firmly into the lunchtime hour, the corridor was cleared of students, which meant that she and Malfoy were alone.
Oh, joy to the world!
"I suppose we'll have to do as the old fruit advises and try harder," her unwitting companion griped, his arms protectively folded over his chest.
Cheeks positively flaming, Hermione tried to gather her courage for a second attempt.
"Fine. Just…get it over with."
Malfoy didn't move, however. Instead, he placidly smirked down at her, refusing to budge a sodding inch.
"Did I not speak English clearly, or has the wool in your head finally spilled into your ears?" she hissed at him, annoyed with the arrogant look on his weasel-like features.
He grinned wider, showing too many perfectly-white teeth for her comfort.
"'Just get it over with.' Awfully passive words for a Gryffindor," he taunted, "especially one with a major war-pip on her collar. Too much a prig to paw all over me twice in as many minutes?"
Her jaw hit the floor.
"You must be joking!" he growled. "First, I didn't paw you! Really, who would want to? Only desperate ninnies, surely. Second, I am not a prig! You're a foul git for even suggesting it. And third, I made the first move last time!"
The ferret's amusement was clearly piqued.
"One, I bet I could make you want to paw me," he smugly challenged her. "Two, denial is the first stage. I suppose you can't help being priggish, though. No sex for two years will do that to a person. And three, you're saying it's my turn to kiss you? You're really giving me permission to put my lips on yours?"
Tired of this constant bickering, a headache beginning to form behind her eyes, Hermione decided to ignore his run-of-the-mill, obnoxious jibes and concentrate on the issue, as she wanted to do nothing more than get away from him just then.
Feigning disinterest to his final query, she casually shrugged.
"We really have no choice in the matter, do we?" she asked. "Since I made the initial effort to get us out of this mess, it stands to reason that there's a natural, logical order to these sorts of things. It's your turn."
His arms slowly unfolded and to her alarm, he reached for her hips. His grin became sinfully feral.
"What sorts of things would that be, Granger?"
The bastard was playing with her like a cat toying with a bird. He knew perfectly well what they'd have to do to get out of this situation now, just as she did, and yet he expected her to say it aloud, to validate the fact that she had to allow him to snog her senseless.
The hell with that!
Remaining perfectly still, her eyes firmly fixed on the top button of his shirt, she allowed him to lean into her and willed herself not to care that she hadn't had a man this close to her since she and Ron split almost two years ago - as Malfoy had so gallingly pointed out, the arse. In fact, she decided she would close her eyes and pretend this was her ex, for that would be infinitely more preferred than reality.
Gentle fingers tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, refusing her the solace of internal fantasy to see her through this humiliation.
"Why so scared?" he asked in a low, sensual tone that was designed to coax the knickers from any witch. "Do I frighten you that much?"
Irate at such a ludicrous accusation, she opened her mouth to retort when, to her utmost consternation, her voice utterly failed. All of her bluster melted away as she realized how uncomfortably close he stood; she could practically count those long, thick lashes that were the same color as his dark brows, could clearly distinguish the mesmerizing ring of arctic white that surrounded the steel grey of his irises, and uneasily note the blatant lust shining in those same depths…
Her heart suddenly took off in her chest, painfully slamming under her ribs.
"Do I?" he dared to probe in a whisper of breath that sailed along her lips. Their mouths barely touched, rasping velvety-smooth against each other. "Surely you're not scared of me, are you, Granger?"
Oddly, she noted that his lips weren't chapped, as Ron's had often been, and that he smelled of sweet apples and darker, spicier herbs from his Potions cupboard.
Changing his voice's pitch, leveraging into her personal space, intimately aligning their bodies was, to Hermione's utmost surprise, enough to irrevocably alter the comfortable dynamics of her fifteen-year understanding of her feelings of loathing for this wizard.
Prior to three minutes ago, she'd always known where to place Draco Malfoy in her thoughts: directly into the "do not touch – will bite" category. Now, though, she was finding it hard not to want him to bite her - and in a rather particular way.
Wands and crosses, he was right: no sex for two years definitely did negative things to her sanity!
This time, when she swallowed, her discomfort was clearly audible. "No," she replied. "You've never frightened me, Malfoy."
That much was true. After what she'd experienced in the war, nothing could frighten her so terribly as to leave her shaking in her boots - not even losing Ron's friendship and the goodwill of his family once that relationship had ended. She'd been painfully disappointed in the failure, of course, but she'd overcome their shunning with the same level of determination as everything else in her life: by barreling right over the hurt and focussing on other projects until the pain had faded. She'd come out of the crucible a bit singed, but otherwise, none the worse for wear.
However, being alone in the days, months, years since hadn't been easy. Ron had been her first and only adult relationship and she'd become accustomed to his continual want for physical pleasure when they'd been together. There had been many days, especially at the beginning, that they'd have ravenous sex four or five times before finally exhausting the urgency. Over time, her body had become accustomed, even anticipated that daily dose of desire. Since the ending of their affair, however, she'd come to miss the heat of a man's body and the affectionate touches during sex. Self-pleasuring was fine, late at night in her bed to get her through the need, but it didn't give her that tangible connection to another that she'd come to crave.
To her utter astonishment, she was discovering that Malfoy's nearness was causing her traitorous body to suddenly wonder at the possibilities of him fulfilling some of what she'd been lacking... And truly, she couldn't deny that his creative verbal provocation had always excited her sapiosexuality on some darker, more disturbing level.
My god, was she really considering her childhood nemesis for a little carnal tête-à-tête?
His smile softened and he made a pleased hum, as if he understood the unspoken language of her lust and was amenable to it. "Good," he whispered just before he closed the distance between them, claiming her lips with a kiss that melted her into the floor.
She wasn't quite sure what had happened then, only that when he released her from the kiss, her head was spinning and her body buzzing in the loveliest way. His arms were around her and his hands gripped her long hair, holding her tightly to him. To her immense confusion, she mirrored his pose, her fingers sliding through his silky, short hair, holding on for dear life.
"You'll have to kiss me back for the mistletoe to let us loose," he reminded her in that same, soft-spoken manner. "Unless you don't happen to mind being here for a bit longer?"
There was definite interest in the way he phrased the question. It was clear he was hoping she'd choose Option B.
"I...I didn't kiss you?" she asked, her awareness slowly returning.
Surely, she had! It had certainly felt like it, anyway. Her lips were throbbing as if they had a heartbeat behind them.
Malfoy's sinful mouth curled with amusement. "No, but if you would you like to try that again, Miss Granger, I'm happy to serve as your tutor," he gently teased. His half-lidded, dragon-lazy gaze burned through her, challenging her to take him up on the offer. "You're sure to get an 'Outstanding' at this rate."
Hermione's eyes dropped to his lips.
She hadn't even truly tasted them and yet, here she was, bowed into his chest, practically wrapped around him and ready to throw her knickers at him. Was this normal? Perhaps it was for a woman who hadn't had a good, hard ride in a very long while. Sex made one a fiend for it once experienced, or so the saying went, and from the way she was feeling right then, Hermione supposed that euphemism wasn't too far off the mark. Her whole being was pounding at her to drag him into the nearest room and fulfill several school day fantasies involving a teacher's desk and being disciplined. Having worked with him for the last few years, she knew he was quite creative when it came to dolling out punishments.
Besides, she had to break the mistletoe's spell, right? And there was only one way to do that.
"Come on, love, if we're going to do this, we might as well do it," he encouraged her and nipped her bottom lip. "Give it to me, Granger. Put me on my knees for you."
Love?
But...
Wait, had Draco Malfoy just begged to get on his knees for her?
Well, that was just... It was...
Quite.
Hermione cleared her throat, shored up her courage, and then she tugged his head back towards hers with a sharp yank, causing their lips to collide. Hungrily, she opened her mouth and indulged, this time holding nothing back.
Malfoy's small, amused laugh was quickly swallowed up by an impassioned moan they shared. His arms tightened around her, and had their feet not been stuck in place, it was quiet certain, he'd have dragged her up his body to get them as close as possible.
A 'pop' above their heads indicated the mistletoe enchantment was broken and they could magically separate at any time.
Roughly, she shoved him up against the nearby wall, ravishing his mouth as their bodies crushed together. He grunted as his back impacted the stone, but other than that, he gave no indication that he wanted her to stop. In fact, his naughty hands released her just long enough to skim down her waist to curve around her backside. With an easy flexing of muscle, he had her up into his arms, her toes dangling above the ground, even as his wicked tongue thrust into her mouth and demanded her obedience.
"That's it," he said around her kisses as she ground her core against the rigid length he pressed between her thighs. "Ride me."
Enraptured by the most intoxicating, consuming snog she'd ever experienced, Hermione was completely unconcerned with her surroundings at that moment. It didn't register that they were in the middle of a hallway in a school filled with impressionable children that could, at any moment, stumble across her. In that moment, her sex-starved body was possessed by a demon and moved with a life all its own, her hips grinding against Malfoy's as she sought that ultimate pleasure that had eluded her for so long.
Ironically, it was the dull tolling of the half-hour bell throughout the castle that reminded her of her situation...and of with whom she was currently tangled up.
"Wait-"
Malfoy, however, seemed to have either no cognizance or care about the dangers of their actions. Denied her lips, his mouth simply sought out and found her sensitive pulse to tease with nips and tight kisses, as if they'd done this dozens of times before and he knew precisely where to touch and with how much pressure.
Hermione's body went loose. Had she been standing without his support, her knees would have turned jelly-jinxed and she'd have fallen to the ground at his feet.
"You're...going to...leave a bruise," she panted around tiny mewls, even as she kneaded his bulky shoulders in pleasure. "The students will see-"
Between one breath and the next, Malfoy suddenly went still.
"Spell's broken," he told her in a voice heavy with lust.
It took a moment longer for her to get her brain back, and a beat after that to gather enough courage to pull back and meet his eye.
"It is."
His gaze measured her up in silence.
She had to wonder if his arms were getting tired yet.
With a sneaky shift of his hips, he was rubbing her against his hard length once more.
Hermione shuddered and bit her bottom lip at how good it felt. Her knickers were positively soaked with her arousal!
"I'm going to have you like this again at some point, Granger."
"No, you're not," she said, but her strong facade was quickly cracked wide open as he pressed harder into her. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder and she dug her nails into him, squirming in his arms and tilting her hips higher to maximize the pressure. "Merlin and Morgana, don't you dare stop!"
His chuckle was arrogant, but he kept up the sliding movement for another minute, bringing her to the brink.
Then, he dropped her back onto her feet.
"Yes, I am," he told her with assurance as he quickly adjusted himself in his trousers, all the while grinning at her like a shark. "You still have earn to that 'O', Granger."
With that, he walked away, turning the corner towards the Main Staircase without a backward glance.
Mortified, Hermione stumbled into her empty Transfiguration classroom across the corridor and locked the door behind her. Throwing herself into her chair, she hid her face behind her hands and bemoaned the situation.
She'd kissed Draco Malfoy!
Snogged him.
Heavily, with some serious petting.
Oh, who was she fooling? They'd dry humped right there in the hallway!
And she'd liked it - all of it, from the scent of his skin to the way he'd tasted, from the roll of his hips to the touch of his tongue. And she was witch enough to admit she'd even liked the argument in advance. Crossing swords with Slytherin's princeling had always left her somewhat breathless, as there was something dangerously attractive about pitting her wits against a dragon.
It was his snake's bite she'd never enjoyed.
Was the potential poisoning worth such a promised treasure, though? Or was Malfoy simply too venomous to handle?
One thing was certain: the Christmas mistletoe was to blame for even opening this Pandora's Box.
TO BE CONTINUED...