Truth of the Matter, Part II
Part II
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, hint of Luna/Harry
Word Count: 11,942
Warnings: *spoilers past DH* - plus some twists of my own, sexual situations, sailor-type language, humorous snorting
Summary: Draco Malfoy has just been released from prison, needing to report to Hermione Granger for approval on all his work. But things are not as they appear. Fed up with all the secrets, he devises a way to divine the truth from a certain Gryffindor.
Author's notes: Many thanks to my beta's dusty273 and imbloodyenglish - you gals ROCK!
Mild smut ahead - turn away if it squicks you!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters, I'm just using them for my nefarious purposes. ;)
Hermione panted, waving a file folder in front of her face. “Will this heat never end?”
Looking wilted, Luna plaited her hair in multiple braids then cast a spell on the strands of hair to be continuously lifted from her neck. After she was done, she gave the appearance of a severely deranged, multi-braided Pippi Longstocking, sans the red hair.
“Much better,” she sighed in relief. “Father once wrote an article about something called ‘global warming’ and blamed the increase in the Earth’s temperatures on cow farts.”
Hermione stopped her fanning and stared at her co-worker. “That’s utterly absurd, there’s no scientific proof for that.”
“There’s no reason, magical or otherwise, as to why it’s so hot in the Ministry today… yet here we are, sweltering as if we were in the Sahara.” She arched a brow as a thought came to her. “Unless…”
The brunette’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “George Weasley is mucking about with the ventilation system.”
As if on cue, George walked into their office and shut the door. “Ladies,” he acknowledged with a nod. “How goes it with my two favorite, non-familial women?”
“You scoundrel,” Hermione ground out. “What have you done? I’m melting here!”
“Such slurs, Granger,” he teased, tweaking her nose. “I think I’ll take back my new and improved, soon to be patented, Daydream Charm.”
“Why new and improved?” Luna asked. “You can’t have something be new and improved, it’s either one or the other… but on the off chance, do you have one where I could imagine myself on a polar ice cap?”
Digging around in his pocket, the redhead looked at the handful of circular pills in his hand before plucking a blue one from the bunch. “Just for you, luv.”
“Remind me to hex you when I wake up,” Luna sighed, putting the flat disc under her tongue. “See you in a half-hour,” she murmured then promptly passed out on the couch.
“More like an hour,” George told Hermione. “That’s the improved part.”
She sifted through the remaining charms. “What else is different?”
“Got rid of that nasty drooling side effect.”
“That’s a relief,” she muttered. “You know, I had to burn those robes after the last charm because I couldn’t remove the saliva stains.”
He winked at her. “You’re just a messy dreamer is all.”
Holding one of the charms up, she glanced between him and the possible daydream. “An hour, right?”
Taking the charm pill from her hand, he tapped her bottom lip for her to open her mouth. “Sweet dreams, Granger.” Popping it under her tongue, he grinned wickedly. “Remember to thank me later.”
~*~
He stood in the doorway to her office again, except this time, the cowl was removed from his platinum head. Three months had done nothing to diminish her ache for him.
“Draco?”
He said nothing as he closed the door and warded the room with silencing spells, ensuring they wouldn’t be heard. How was that possible with his magic restrained to almost nothing?
“I’ve brought you the next formula,” he drawled with a seductive smirk, sparing an interested glance at the unconscious form of Luna Lovegood sprawled out on the sofa.
Hermione was beginning to feel claustrophobic with his presence in the room, something she never suffered from before, so she rose from her swivel chair and met him in the middle, preventing him from approaching any further.
“Thank you, I’ll look them over later,” she said, hopefully in a forceful tone as she held out her hand for the report.
Draco shook his head, his stormy eyes piercing her with their intense study. “I want you to look them over… now.” He held the parchments away from her grasping hand.
Lips pursed, she made a small leap to grab the paper from his outstretched hand, but he was taller than her by several inches and instead, she landed against his chest. Preparing to apologize for accidentally hitting him, she felt strong, lean arms circle around her shoulders, trapping her against his body.
“If you wanted to touch me, Granger, all you had to do was ask,” Draco purred in her ear as he nuzzled her hairline, flinging the parchment to land on Luna’s face.
“Let go of me, Malfoy,” she gritted through clenched teeth, struggling within his embrace.
“So it’s back to Malfoy is it?” he hissed, tightening his arms. “What happened to Draco, the piteous, fallen and scarred war hero you wanted to save? Have you changed your tune so quickly?”
Waiting until he was once again looking her in the eye, she softened her gaze. “I never pitied you, Draco.”
Fiery anger leapt into his stare as he forced her to move back until her bum rested against the edge of the desk. “Then what, in the name of Circe, do you want with me?” he spat, clenching his long fingers around her slender shoulders hard enough for her to gasp in pain.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered. “Please let me go or I’ll have to report-”
“Answer the bloody question!” he roared, shaking her a bit.
“Because you deserve a chance!” she screamed back at him, tears slowly making their way down her cheeks. “I want you to have possibilities, opportunities that are fair and allow room for mistakes.”
Placing both hands on the desktop on either side of her hips, Draco leaned in until their lips were a hairsbreadth away. “Why?”
She bit her lower lip to keep from blurting out her real reason. “I’m in a position to-”
“Why?”
“Some in the Wizarding world are still biased against the Malfoy name and I thought-”
“Why?”
Closing her eyes in defeat, she leaned her forehead against his. “Because I care.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the closest he was going to get to the truth without physically beating it out of her, which was still an option. Parting the front of her robes, he splayed his wide hands on either side of her hips, rubbing soothing circles on her abdomen with his thumbs. He knew she was well and truly on her way to feeling something more than just caring when he felt her breathy pants on his face.
“Hermione,” he whispered, then closed the gap of their lips.
A maelstrom of emotion flooded them both as they devoured the taste of one another, one dark, the other light, together creating a world where shades of gray were acceptable.
Reaching behind her, Draco swept everything except the potted ivy plant off her desk and laid her back over it, her legs dangling off the edge. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he spread them and flipped the hem of her skirt up, revealing lacey purple knickers. He smiled at the blend of safety with a hint of daring underclothing, wondering if in the future he could persuade her to wear nothing at all.
Kneeling down, he nipped at the inner flesh, savoring her skin until he reached the juncture of her thighs, inhaling deeply, his senses filling with her musky scent and the soap she’d used to cleanse her body. When she trembled at his close proximity to her core, he paused for a moment to straighten up, looking at her flushed face as she leaned back on her elbows.
“Has no one ever done this before?”
Her flush deepened, becoming a bright crimson. “I’ve only ever snogged Viktor and Ron.”
He sighed, laying his forehead against her knee. “Let me guess… you were saving yourself for the redheaded git, right?”
She huffed a stray curl off her face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t know if he would have ever gotten around to it.”
Biting down gently on the cord of muscle near her apex, he glared ferociously at her. “Well, this is mine now.” He ran a finger along the dampness of her knickers, applying pressure near her clit. “No one else’s, are we clear?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Tucking his tongue behind his teeth, he leered at her as he began stroking the material harder, making her squirm. “Say it, Hermione.”
“Yours, only yours,” she gasped.
“Good girl.” Shifting the sodden cotton to one side, he delved two fingers into her wet pussy, his thumb lightly tapping on her rigid button as he slowly pumped in and out of her warmth.
He smirked when he heard her sob as he removed his hand before replacing it with his mouth, lapping at her essence. Tonguing her folds, he began humming when her fingers threaded through his blond locks, massaging his scalp.
“Draco,” she whispered. “I-I can’t… something…”
“Let it happen, luv,” he rasped, sucking her clit between his lips.
She screamed his name in bliss; her shout earsplitting in its intensity, and Draco figured she’d never had an actual orgasm before, only phantom feelings as she matured from teen to woman. He held her pelvis steady as she tried to buck from the spasms in her womb, continuing to lick her until she was shaking from overstimulation.
“You scream loud enough to wake the dead, Hermione,” Luna said from far away.
“What?” she coughed, trying to sit up from her position on the desk, only to discover she was still in her chair, hair plastered to the side of her face.
Rubbing her gritty eyes, she stared at her friend and co-worker, who had a totally satisfied grin on her face, the dreamy set of her stare unfocused. “Are you real?” Hermione asked hesitantly, trying to determine if she was still daydreaming.
Luna giggled and sighed. “Harry has the biggest-”
“Don’t finish that sentence!” Hermione squealed, clapping her hands over her ears.
The other girl frowned. “Nose?”
Pushing her damp hair away from her cheek, the brunette chuckled hesitantly. “Oh! I thought you were going to say-”
“Penis?”
Hermione gaped at her.
“What? Harry’s got a perfectly adequate penis, but his nose… Merlin, what that man can do with it.”
So many obscene images flashed through Hermione’s brain at that moment she became ill. “I-I-I don’t want to know.”
“You look thoroughly happy, I must say,” Luna observed.
Getting to her shaky feet, Hermione grabbed her dress robe and sprinted to the door. “Isn’t it lunchtime? I hear the canteen has baked spaghetti today.”
“Mmm, noodles,” Luna cooed. Preceding her friend out the door, she mused, “I do hope they have pudding, too.”
Smiling in spite of herself, Hermione shut the door and took a deep, fortifying breath, hoping against hope that she’d be able to look Draco in the eye the next time she met with him.
~*~
“The elves worked long and hard to make that,” Luna pointed out, watching her friend shove the food around on her plate. “I don’t think they’d understand if you brutalized that poor meatball again.”
Dropping her fork with a clang, Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Have you seen his latest formula, Luna? He’s found the cure for Muggle cancer! This just isn’t right,” she groaned.
Slurping a noodle, the blonde shrugged. “Which part? The fact that he can’t use magic or that the Ministry is using him?”
A rough cough, as if someone was choking, sounded behind the women then subsided.
“Both. It’s disgusting really. I talked to Kingsley the other day and I told him that Draco had consistently produced excellent work, going so far as tell him he’d more than paid his debt to society with three months worth of important discoveries, and you know what he said to me?”
“You’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
“He said, ‘Miss Granger, it was damn near impossible to gain a commute on that spoiled brat’s sentence because of your testimony, what makes you think the Wizengamot would consider granting him a lighter pardon?’”
Another round of spluttering issued from the cloaked figure behind the women.
“I hope that person sees the Mediwitch, it sounds like they have a nasty case of Dragon Pox,” Luna observed casually. “I hope they stop the spread before it reaches their-”
Violent retching echoed in the cafeteria, followed by a grunt and a snort.
“I think they just need a good slap on the back,” Hermione muttered, still in a foul mood.
Luna narrowed her eyes as she stared at the convex image that could be seen through the wooden partition on her spoon. Angling her silverware, she caught a glimmer of white hair beneath a black hood. Glancing at Hermione, who was still knee-deep in complaining, she studied the shadowy man as a thought took hold.
“So, you still won’t tell Draco that you were the one responsible for his release?” Luna asked innocently, a lopsided grin on her lips.
“NO!” Hermione hissed. “Especially not now.”
“Why not now?” she asked in confusion.
“Not after that charm…” the brunette trailed off, knowing she’d revealed too much to her friend.
The former Ravenclaw grinned madly at her. “So, George Weasley’s Daydream Charm was a success, huh?” She darted her eyes to the spoon and noticed the dark figure was listening raptly. “I take it your fantasy was about Draco?”
“Luna Starshine Lovegood! Don’t you dare breathe a word of that to anyone, do you hear?”
“What would I breathe? You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“And I won’t either.”
Since Hermione wasn’t going to discuss her daydream, Luna decided to do it for her. “I bet he was tall, dark and forbidden, dashingly handsome…”
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “Merlin’s bones, Luna, he was all that and more.”
“And? What did he do?”
“That,” she started, turning very pink. “Is none of your business.”
“So that’s why you screamed his name.” Luna giggled as she continued watching the spoon image, noticing him smile wickedly.
“Shhh! Do you want the whole Ministry to hear?”
Luna looked around the eating area. “Hermione, there’s only Perceval Huntley over by the exit and John Doe looking at the advertisements, I doubt they heard me.”
“John Doe isn’t his real name,” Hermione corrected. “He’s just incognito.”
“Well, I don’t think his undercover persona heard me either.”
Hermione sighed sadly. “It doesn’t matter, though… not really.”
Taking her friend’s hand, Luna held it tightly. “The truth will set you free.”
Her friend stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“You say that Draco deserves a chance to prove himself, right?” At Hermione’s nod, she continued. “I happen to agree. But he also deserves to know the truth.”
She snorted mirthlessly. “If I were a successful, high-ranking pure-blood, yes.” She clenched her fists in frustration. “But I’m not. I’m just a Muggle-born witch who wanted to right an injustice and got in way over her head.”
“I think you meant to say heart,” Luna teased lightly.
“That too. I just don’t know what to do, or how to solve this problem.”
“What does your head tell you to do?”
“To hold a hunger strike until Kingsley relents and grants him his full powers, thus allowing him a greater chance to recover.”
Laughing softly, Luna figured that solution was totally Hermione Granger. Darting a glance to the cloudy image, she noticed the man was leaning against the wooden slats, as if in pain. Returning her attention to her friend, she prompted, “And what does your heart tell you?”
“That’s so easy it’s frightening, Luna. To help him, to heal him, to… touch him, learn more of his secrets, no matter how dark. To help him rebuild his life.”
“Why?” the blonde woman asked, unbeknownst to her it was that question Malfoy had repeated so many times in Hermione’s daydream.
“Because I care,” she whispered.
“You’ll never tell him, will you?” Luna said sadly, the question rhetorical.
Hermione scooted her chair back and stood. “Some things are better left unsaid.” With that, she left the cafeteria and headed back to her office.
Luna remained seated until she watched Draco Malfoy shift out of the booth behind her, never looking back to see if she spotted him, heading down the stairs to the chambers well below the Ministry to complete his work.
~*~
Draco stood as far back as he could within the spacious elevator, noting the people embarking and departing, totally ignored his presence. That was until she stepped into the car.
She startled somewhat but recovered promptly, moving to stand in front of him slightly to the left in the crowded lift. She never turned to acknowledge him, nor did she speak, remaining silent through most of the stops. At the Department of Internal Affairs, an office created after the fall of Voldemort, Hermione was roughly pushed backwards as several people bustled into the already full car.
Without thought, Draco wrapped his hands around her waist to steady her and keep her from falling, retaining his grip on her hips even though she was safe. Daringly, he pulled her rigid frame closer to his own as he fully encompassed her middle with his large palms, breathing out slowly when she finally relaxed against him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, as she tried to pry his hands from her waist.
Instead of removing them, he twined his fingers with hers and held her captive. “You’re welcome.”
Someone in a bowler hat glanced at the pair, recognized Draco and sneered before turning away. He groaned internally and leaned his head against the wall of the lift, wishing he could hex the interloper into the next century.
It came as a great shock when, in response to the nosey man, Hermione stopped struggling within the Slytherin’s grasp and instead, squeezed his hand in support. “It’s okay, Draco… most of these people wouldn’t know intelligence if it bit them on the arse.”
Several gasps issued forth from the affronted passengers, all of them departing from the car at the next stop, leaving the two alone. Draco pressed the STOP button before the lift could move to another floor.
“Where are you going?” he asked in a low voice, his face very close to hers, his hands returning her hips.
She swallowed audibly. “To see Shacklebolt.”
He glanced at the control panel. Two more floors to go. “Why?”
Frowning, she began to struggle once more. “None of your-”
“Business, yes… I know that. But I’m asking you why… please.” Removing one hand from her hip, Draco cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Did I do something to displease you?”
Becoming very still at his touch, she slowly raised her eyes to his. “No,” she sighed, noticing the once inflamed wound was now a silver streak running the length of his face. “Your scar… it’s...”
Taking one of her soft hands in his, he laid it against the savaged half of his countenance. “You healed me.”
Sadness tinged her gaze. “I did nothing.”
Gripping her chin, he lowered his lips until they lay just over hers. “You cared.” He closed the remaining distance and indulged in one of the sweetest kisses he’d ever known.
He no longer needed to trap her palm as she threaded it through his now lengthy locks, tugging him closer, her other arm wrapping around his back when he deepened the kiss. Gods, but this woman was responsive, tasting of honey, her curls smelling of night-blooming jasmine, seductive and spicy.
Hermione whimpered when Draco buried one hand in her wild mane and pulled, arching her head so that her throat was bared to his questing mouth as he peppered her column with loving nips. This was by far better than her daydream, exceeding all her fantasies.
Draco arched his hips until her heated core rest against the bulge in his trousers, her legs splayed on either side, her back against the wall of the lift. Hooking one knee on his arm, he pulled it around his waist, widening her stance further, causing her to tremble as she did in her daydream.
Sensing her nervous hesitation, he slowly ended the kiss, sucking in her bottom lip and biting it gently. He then lowered the leg he’d place around his middle, allowing her to gain her footing before stepping away.
“I want to see you,” he informed her, taking in her glassy-eyed look.
Her mind still clearly in a fog, she answered, “You are seeing me.”
Chuckling lightly, he tugged on one of her curls. “Have dinner with me,” he implored.
She blinked owlishly. “You want to go out on a date?”
Did she need to make it sound so distasteful? “Is that a problem?”
“I-I just didn’t think you’d want to be seen-”
“I can’t do anything more about my face, Granger,” he growled, hitting the STOP button once again, the lift resuming its path.
“You know, I’m tired of everyone interrupting me, thinking they know what I’m going to say before I do!”
“What are you on about?”
“I was about to say that I didn’t think you’d want to be seen with the likes of me, Draco Malfoy,” she snapped. “And your face has nothing to do with it.”
The lift stopped and announced its destination, Hermione making her way out of the car but turning before it left. “I happen to think you’re quite handsome and I’d be honored to go to dinner with you,” she huffed and marched into the Minister of Magic’s main chambers, slamming the door in her wake.
Draco smirked mischievously. “Oh, Granger,” he sniggered. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” He pressed the button that would take him to his work area, forgetting the reason he was on the lift in the first place, as well as Hermione’s reason for visiting Kingsley.
With a plan forming in his mind, he made a mental note to contact his godfather, Snape, and arrange a visit. After all… if one is to trap a Gryffindor, one must use Slytherin tactics.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, hint of Luna/Harry
Word Count: 11,942
Warnings: *spoilers past DH* - plus some twists of my own, sexual situations, sailor-type language, humorous snorting
Summary: Draco Malfoy has just been released from prison, needing to report to Hermione Granger for approval on all his work. But things are not as they appear. Fed up with all the secrets, he devises a way to divine the truth from a certain Gryffindor.
Author's notes: Many thanks to my beta's dusty273 and imbloodyenglish - you gals ROCK!
Mild smut ahead - turn away if it squicks you!
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters, I'm just using them for my nefarious purposes. ;)
Hermione panted, waving a file folder in front of her face. “Will this heat never end?”
Looking wilted, Luna plaited her hair in multiple braids then cast a spell on the strands of hair to be continuously lifted from her neck. After she was done, she gave the appearance of a severely deranged, multi-braided Pippi Longstocking, sans the red hair.
“Much better,” she sighed in relief. “Father once wrote an article about something called ‘global warming’ and blamed the increase in the Earth’s temperatures on cow farts.”
Hermione stopped her fanning and stared at her co-worker. “That’s utterly absurd, there’s no scientific proof for that.”
“There’s no reason, magical or otherwise, as to why it’s so hot in the Ministry today… yet here we are, sweltering as if we were in the Sahara.” She arched a brow as a thought came to her. “Unless…”
The brunette’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “George Weasley is mucking about with the ventilation system.”
As if on cue, George walked into their office and shut the door. “Ladies,” he acknowledged with a nod. “How goes it with my two favorite, non-familial women?”
“You scoundrel,” Hermione ground out. “What have you done? I’m melting here!”
“Such slurs, Granger,” he teased, tweaking her nose. “I think I’ll take back my new and improved, soon to be patented, Daydream Charm.”
“Why new and improved?” Luna asked. “You can’t have something be new and improved, it’s either one or the other… but on the off chance, do you have one where I could imagine myself on a polar ice cap?”
Digging around in his pocket, the redhead looked at the handful of circular pills in his hand before plucking a blue one from the bunch. “Just for you, luv.”
“Remind me to hex you when I wake up,” Luna sighed, putting the flat disc under her tongue. “See you in a half-hour,” she murmured then promptly passed out on the couch.
“More like an hour,” George told Hermione. “That’s the improved part.”
She sifted through the remaining charms. “What else is different?”
“Got rid of that nasty drooling side effect.”
“That’s a relief,” she muttered. “You know, I had to burn those robes after the last charm because I couldn’t remove the saliva stains.”
He winked at her. “You’re just a messy dreamer is all.”
Holding one of the charms up, she glanced between him and the possible daydream. “An hour, right?”
Taking the charm pill from her hand, he tapped her bottom lip for her to open her mouth. “Sweet dreams, Granger.” Popping it under her tongue, he grinned wickedly. “Remember to thank me later.”
~*~
He stood in the doorway to her office again, except this time, the cowl was removed from his platinum head. Three months had done nothing to diminish her ache for him.
“Draco?”
He said nothing as he closed the door and warded the room with silencing spells, ensuring they wouldn’t be heard. How was that possible with his magic restrained to almost nothing?
“I’ve brought you the next formula,” he drawled with a seductive smirk, sparing an interested glance at the unconscious form of Luna Lovegood sprawled out on the sofa.
Hermione was beginning to feel claustrophobic with his presence in the room, something she never suffered from before, so she rose from her swivel chair and met him in the middle, preventing him from approaching any further.
“Thank you, I’ll look them over later,” she said, hopefully in a forceful tone as she held out her hand for the report.
Draco shook his head, his stormy eyes piercing her with their intense study. “I want you to look them over… now.” He held the parchments away from her grasping hand.
Lips pursed, she made a small leap to grab the paper from his outstretched hand, but he was taller than her by several inches and instead, she landed against his chest. Preparing to apologize for accidentally hitting him, she felt strong, lean arms circle around her shoulders, trapping her against his body.
“If you wanted to touch me, Granger, all you had to do was ask,” Draco purred in her ear as he nuzzled her hairline, flinging the parchment to land on Luna’s face.
“Let go of me, Malfoy,” she gritted through clenched teeth, struggling within his embrace.
“So it’s back to Malfoy is it?” he hissed, tightening his arms. “What happened to Draco, the piteous, fallen and scarred war hero you wanted to save? Have you changed your tune so quickly?”
Waiting until he was once again looking her in the eye, she softened her gaze. “I never pitied you, Draco.”
Fiery anger leapt into his stare as he forced her to move back until her bum rested against the edge of the desk. “Then what, in the name of Circe, do you want with me?” he spat, clenching his long fingers around her slender shoulders hard enough for her to gasp in pain.
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpered. “Please let me go or I’ll have to report-”
“Answer the bloody question!” he roared, shaking her a bit.
“Because you deserve a chance!” she screamed back at him, tears slowly making their way down her cheeks. “I want you to have possibilities, opportunities that are fair and allow room for mistakes.”
Placing both hands on the desktop on either side of her hips, Draco leaned in until their lips were a hairsbreadth away. “Why?”
She bit her lower lip to keep from blurting out her real reason. “I’m in a position to-”
“Why?”
“Some in the Wizarding world are still biased against the Malfoy name and I thought-”
“Why?”
Closing her eyes in defeat, she leaned her forehead against his. “Because I care.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the closest he was going to get to the truth without physically beating it out of her, which was still an option. Parting the front of her robes, he splayed his wide hands on either side of her hips, rubbing soothing circles on her abdomen with his thumbs. He knew she was well and truly on her way to feeling something more than just caring when he felt her breathy pants on his face.
“Hermione,” he whispered, then closed the gap of their lips.
A maelstrom of emotion flooded them both as they devoured the taste of one another, one dark, the other light, together creating a world where shades of gray were acceptable.
Reaching behind her, Draco swept everything except the potted ivy plant off her desk and laid her back over it, her legs dangling off the edge. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he spread them and flipped the hem of her skirt up, revealing lacey purple knickers. He smiled at the blend of safety with a hint of daring underclothing, wondering if in the future he could persuade her to wear nothing at all.
Kneeling down, he nipped at the inner flesh, savoring her skin until he reached the juncture of her thighs, inhaling deeply, his senses filling with her musky scent and the soap she’d used to cleanse her body. When she trembled at his close proximity to her core, he paused for a moment to straighten up, looking at her flushed face as she leaned back on her elbows.
“Has no one ever done this before?”
Her flush deepened, becoming a bright crimson. “I’ve only ever snogged Viktor and Ron.”
He sighed, laying his forehead against her knee. “Let me guess… you were saving yourself for the redheaded git, right?”
She huffed a stray curl off her face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t know if he would have ever gotten around to it.”
Biting down gently on the cord of muscle near her apex, he glared ferociously at her. “Well, this is mine now.” He ran a finger along the dampness of her knickers, applying pressure near her clit. “No one else’s, are we clear?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Tucking his tongue behind his teeth, he leered at her as he began stroking the material harder, making her squirm. “Say it, Hermione.”
“Yours, only yours,” she gasped.
“Good girl.” Shifting the sodden cotton to one side, he delved two fingers into her wet pussy, his thumb lightly tapping on her rigid button as he slowly pumped in and out of her warmth.
He smirked when he heard her sob as he removed his hand before replacing it with his mouth, lapping at her essence. Tonguing her folds, he began humming when her fingers threaded through his blond locks, massaging his scalp.
“Draco,” she whispered. “I-I can’t… something…”
“Let it happen, luv,” he rasped, sucking her clit between his lips.
She screamed his name in bliss; her shout earsplitting in its intensity, and Draco figured she’d never had an actual orgasm before, only phantom feelings as she matured from teen to woman. He held her pelvis steady as she tried to buck from the spasms in her womb, continuing to lick her until she was shaking from overstimulation.
“You scream loud enough to wake the dead, Hermione,” Luna said from far away.
“What?” she coughed, trying to sit up from her position on the desk, only to discover she was still in her chair, hair plastered to the side of her face.
Rubbing her gritty eyes, she stared at her friend and co-worker, who had a totally satisfied grin on her face, the dreamy set of her stare unfocused. “Are you real?” Hermione asked hesitantly, trying to determine if she was still daydreaming.
Luna giggled and sighed. “Harry has the biggest-”
“Don’t finish that sentence!” Hermione squealed, clapping her hands over her ears.
The other girl frowned. “Nose?”
Pushing her damp hair away from her cheek, the brunette chuckled hesitantly. “Oh! I thought you were going to say-”
“Penis?”
Hermione gaped at her.
“What? Harry’s got a perfectly adequate penis, but his nose… Merlin, what that man can do with it.”
So many obscene images flashed through Hermione’s brain at that moment she became ill. “I-I-I don’t want to know.”
“You look thoroughly happy, I must say,” Luna observed.
Getting to her shaky feet, Hermione grabbed her dress robe and sprinted to the door. “Isn’t it lunchtime? I hear the canteen has baked spaghetti today.”
“Mmm, noodles,” Luna cooed. Preceding her friend out the door, she mused, “I do hope they have pudding, too.”
Smiling in spite of herself, Hermione shut the door and took a deep, fortifying breath, hoping against hope that she’d be able to look Draco in the eye the next time she met with him.
~*~
“The elves worked long and hard to make that,” Luna pointed out, watching her friend shove the food around on her plate. “I don’t think they’d understand if you brutalized that poor meatball again.”
Dropping her fork with a clang, Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Have you seen his latest formula, Luna? He’s found the cure for Muggle cancer! This just isn’t right,” she groaned.
Slurping a noodle, the blonde shrugged. “Which part? The fact that he can’t use magic or that the Ministry is using him?”
A rough cough, as if someone was choking, sounded behind the women then subsided.
“Both. It’s disgusting really. I talked to Kingsley the other day and I told him that Draco had consistently produced excellent work, going so far as tell him he’d more than paid his debt to society with three months worth of important discoveries, and you know what he said to me?”
“You’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
“He said, ‘Miss Granger, it was damn near impossible to gain a commute on that spoiled brat’s sentence because of your testimony, what makes you think the Wizengamot would consider granting him a lighter pardon?’”
Another round of spluttering issued from the cloaked figure behind the women.
“I hope that person sees the Mediwitch, it sounds like they have a nasty case of Dragon Pox,” Luna observed casually. “I hope they stop the spread before it reaches their-”
Violent retching echoed in the cafeteria, followed by a grunt and a snort.
“I think they just need a good slap on the back,” Hermione muttered, still in a foul mood.
Luna narrowed her eyes as she stared at the convex image that could be seen through the wooden partition on her spoon. Angling her silverware, she caught a glimmer of white hair beneath a black hood. Glancing at Hermione, who was still knee-deep in complaining, she studied the shadowy man as a thought took hold.
“So, you still won’t tell Draco that you were the one responsible for his release?” Luna asked innocently, a lopsided grin on her lips.
“NO!” Hermione hissed. “Especially not now.”
“Why not now?” she asked in confusion.
“Not after that charm…” the brunette trailed off, knowing she’d revealed too much to her friend.
The former Ravenclaw grinned madly at her. “So, George Weasley’s Daydream Charm was a success, huh?” She darted her eyes to the spoon and noticed the dark figure was listening raptly. “I take it your fantasy was about Draco?”
“Luna Starshine Lovegood! Don’t you dare breathe a word of that to anyone, do you hear?”
“What would I breathe? You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“And I won’t either.”
Since Hermione wasn’t going to discuss her daydream, Luna decided to do it for her. “I bet he was tall, dark and forbidden, dashingly handsome…”
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “Merlin’s bones, Luna, he was all that and more.”
“And? What did he do?”
“That,” she started, turning very pink. “Is none of your business.”
“So that’s why you screamed his name.” Luna giggled as she continued watching the spoon image, noticing him smile wickedly.
“Shhh! Do you want the whole Ministry to hear?”
Luna looked around the eating area. “Hermione, there’s only Perceval Huntley over by the exit and John Doe looking at the advertisements, I doubt they heard me.”
“John Doe isn’t his real name,” Hermione corrected. “He’s just incognito.”
“Well, I don’t think his undercover persona heard me either.”
Hermione sighed sadly. “It doesn’t matter, though… not really.”
Taking her friend’s hand, Luna held it tightly. “The truth will set you free.”
Her friend stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“You say that Draco deserves a chance to prove himself, right?” At Hermione’s nod, she continued. “I happen to agree. But he also deserves to know the truth.”
She snorted mirthlessly. “If I were a successful, high-ranking pure-blood, yes.” She clenched her fists in frustration. “But I’m not. I’m just a Muggle-born witch who wanted to right an injustice and got in way over her head.”
“I think you meant to say heart,” Luna teased lightly.
“That too. I just don’t know what to do, or how to solve this problem.”
“What does your head tell you to do?”
“To hold a hunger strike until Kingsley relents and grants him his full powers, thus allowing him a greater chance to recover.”
Laughing softly, Luna figured that solution was totally Hermione Granger. Darting a glance to the cloudy image, she noticed the man was leaning against the wooden slats, as if in pain. Returning her attention to her friend, she prompted, “And what does your heart tell you?”
“That’s so easy it’s frightening, Luna. To help him, to heal him, to… touch him, learn more of his secrets, no matter how dark. To help him rebuild his life.”
“Why?” the blonde woman asked, unbeknownst to her it was that question Malfoy had repeated so many times in Hermione’s daydream.
“Because I care,” she whispered.
“You’ll never tell him, will you?” Luna said sadly, the question rhetorical.
Hermione scooted her chair back and stood. “Some things are better left unsaid.” With that, she left the cafeteria and headed back to her office.
Luna remained seated until she watched Draco Malfoy shift out of the booth behind her, never looking back to see if she spotted him, heading down the stairs to the chambers well below the Ministry to complete his work.
~*~
Draco stood as far back as he could within the spacious elevator, noting the people embarking and departing, totally ignored his presence. That was until she stepped into the car.
She startled somewhat but recovered promptly, moving to stand in front of him slightly to the left in the crowded lift. She never turned to acknowledge him, nor did she speak, remaining silent through most of the stops. At the Department of Internal Affairs, an office created after the fall of Voldemort, Hermione was roughly pushed backwards as several people bustled into the already full car.
Without thought, Draco wrapped his hands around her waist to steady her and keep her from falling, retaining his grip on her hips even though she was safe. Daringly, he pulled her rigid frame closer to his own as he fully encompassed her middle with his large palms, breathing out slowly when she finally relaxed against him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, as she tried to pry his hands from her waist.
Instead of removing them, he twined his fingers with hers and held her captive. “You’re welcome.”
Someone in a bowler hat glanced at the pair, recognized Draco and sneered before turning away. He groaned internally and leaned his head against the wall of the lift, wishing he could hex the interloper into the next century.
It came as a great shock when, in response to the nosey man, Hermione stopped struggling within the Slytherin’s grasp and instead, squeezed his hand in support. “It’s okay, Draco… most of these people wouldn’t know intelligence if it bit them on the arse.”
Several gasps issued forth from the affronted passengers, all of them departing from the car at the next stop, leaving the two alone. Draco pressed the STOP button before the lift could move to another floor.
“Where are you going?” he asked in a low voice, his face very close to hers, his hands returning her hips.
She swallowed audibly. “To see Shacklebolt.”
He glanced at the control panel. Two more floors to go. “Why?”
Frowning, she began to struggle once more. “None of your-”
“Business, yes… I know that. But I’m asking you why… please.” Removing one hand from her hip, Draco cupped her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Did I do something to displease you?”
Becoming very still at his touch, she slowly raised her eyes to his. “No,” she sighed, noticing the once inflamed wound was now a silver streak running the length of his face. “Your scar… it’s...”
Taking one of her soft hands in his, he laid it against the savaged half of his countenance. “You healed me.”
Sadness tinged her gaze. “I did nothing.”
Gripping her chin, he lowered his lips until they lay just over hers. “You cared.” He closed the remaining distance and indulged in one of the sweetest kisses he’d ever known.
He no longer needed to trap her palm as she threaded it through his now lengthy locks, tugging him closer, her other arm wrapping around his back when he deepened the kiss. Gods, but this woman was responsive, tasting of honey, her curls smelling of night-blooming jasmine, seductive and spicy.
Hermione whimpered when Draco buried one hand in her wild mane and pulled, arching her head so that her throat was bared to his questing mouth as he peppered her column with loving nips. This was by far better than her daydream, exceeding all her fantasies.
Draco arched his hips until her heated core rest against the bulge in his trousers, her legs splayed on either side, her back against the wall of the lift. Hooking one knee on his arm, he pulled it around his waist, widening her stance further, causing her to tremble as she did in her daydream.
Sensing her nervous hesitation, he slowly ended the kiss, sucking in her bottom lip and biting it gently. He then lowered the leg he’d place around his middle, allowing her to gain her footing before stepping away.
“I want to see you,” he informed her, taking in her glassy-eyed look.
Her mind still clearly in a fog, she answered, “You are seeing me.”
Chuckling lightly, he tugged on one of her curls. “Have dinner with me,” he implored.
She blinked owlishly. “You want to go out on a date?”
Did she need to make it sound so distasteful? “Is that a problem?”
“I-I just didn’t think you’d want to be seen-”
“I can’t do anything more about my face, Granger,” he growled, hitting the STOP button once again, the lift resuming its path.
“You know, I’m tired of everyone interrupting me, thinking they know what I’m going to say before I do!”
“What are you on about?”
“I was about to say that I didn’t think you’d want to be seen with the likes of me, Draco Malfoy,” she snapped. “And your face has nothing to do with it.”
The lift stopped and announced its destination, Hermione making her way out of the car but turning before it left. “I happen to think you’re quite handsome and I’d be honored to go to dinner with you,” she huffed and marched into the Minister of Magic’s main chambers, slamming the door in her wake.
Draco smirked mischievously. “Oh, Granger,” he sniggered. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” He pressed the button that would take him to his work area, forgetting the reason he was on the lift in the first place, as well as Hermione’s reason for visiting Kingsley.
With a plan forming in his mind, he made a mental note to contact his godfather, Snape, and arrange a visit. After all… if one is to trap a Gryffindor, one must use Slytherin tactics.