Rating: M (for suggestive sexual themes)
Prompt: “I won’t give you roses, Granger, cliché isn’t my thing.”
Synopsis: His life as a Ministry head was all fine and dandy until a sexy wrench called Granger was thrown in the mix. What’s a hot blooded wizard to do?
A/N: I’d like to thank stellagammadraconis and DayDreamer1123 for beta-ing this and I apologize for such a short notice (a girl loves to cram)! The premise was provided by Di and I just toyed with it. Hope y'all enjoy what we came up with!
Draco must’ve been dreaming. That’s it. It had been five years since he’d last seen Granger, and to say she’d changed a lot would be an understatement. Last he’d heard, she’d moved to Australia to be with her parents. He never did find out why they left Britain, but he assumed it had a lot to do with their daughter’s involvement in the war.
From where he was seated, Draco had a good view of the Muggle-born. He could tell she’d grown taller, her hair was now tamer, and the tight black blouse she wore was pretty distracting, especially since it emphasized the curve of her bosom. He’d surveyed her with a keen eye when she’d entered, her hips swaying as she walked. If someone used a legilimens spell on him right now, they’d be in for a pleasant surprise. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine having a raging hard-on because of Hermione Granger.
The sound of Shacklebolt’s baritone wrenched Draco out of his lustful thoughts and back into the department head meeting.
“As you are all aware, with Mulberry’s retirement, the Magical Law Enforcement Department is currently without a head. Ms. Granger here has worked in the same capacity at the Australian Ministry. She comes to us highly recommended by the Australian Minister himself. I trust that there will be no problems as she transitions into her new role.”
Granger smiled, exchanged pleasantries with her soon-to-be staff and headed out for a meeting with the Minister without even acknowledging Draco’s presence. She looked delightful and he’d be damned if he’d let her escape his grasp before he sampled that fine arse. No one could resist a Malfoy’s charm if he put his mind to it. Draco smirked to himself. Yeah, they would certainly have a great “working relationship.”
Or so he thought. The minx was difficult to get a hold of. When she wasn’t attending meetings, she was busy shirking his advances. Draco started to make a move on her in the ministry cafeteria’s secluded area three days after she assumed the position. He’d subtly complimented her hot ensemble coupled with fuck-me heels that day, he just couldn’t help himself. Hermione stared at him for a whole minute, obviously dumbfounded, before her face scrunched up as if her coffee tasted awful. Murmuring a quick “Excuse me” she left in haste as if Snatchers were hot on her heels. Their succeeding encounters were all similar, always ending with her fleeing the scene from his constant stares and “accidental” touches. Draco was going easy on her, convinced subtlety was the key, but it was all for naught. If witches weren’t throwing sultry glances his way, he would have doubted his Malfoy charisma by now. It was downright insulting, to say the least, but he wasn’t a quitter. Draco would win her soon, he was sure of it. But perhaps a change of strategy was in order.
Hermione Granger, department head of MLE, sighed and leaned back in her comfortable chair. Being back in Britain was helping to slowly mend the gap that had formed between her and her friends while she’d lived in Australia for a few years following the defeat of Voldemort. The kiss she and Ron had shared in the Chamber should have given way to a budding romance, but her heart couldn’t take the separation from her parents, so she’d made up her mind and took a step back. After the battle, Hermione had decided to lift the obliviate spell she’d placed on them before it became irreversible. She hadn’t bothered asking Ron to come with her because she knew he was still grieving the loss of his brother, and his family needed him. It had been painful, though, that he hadn’t offered to accompany her, or just to see her off - even Ginny, who had been in the same boat as him, had the time to spare. Hermione knew dwelling on it was childish, so she’d moved on after some time.
But that wasn’t what had really hurt their friendship. No, what caused the rift was the fact that he carried on with his life as the Keeper of the Chudley Cannons. That, and being a member of the Golden Trio, had catapulted him to stardom. And with fame came parties, social events…and women. She shouldn’t be affected by all of this — they’d never really talked about where they stood, but it hurt her nonetheless.
Her return sparked a change in Ron. It was as if a memory charm had been reversed, and he started thinking about picking up where they’d left of. No longer was he seen out with various witches, as he only pursued her since the day she got back. He sent her roses every day, as if he’d forgotten that she was allergic to them, and chocolates, for which she’d never had a liking. She sighed. After all these years, it was as if he didn’t know her.
And then there was Malfoy, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Malfoy, who was constantly on the lookout for her like a wolf to his prey, giving her compliments out of nowhere, watching her like he’d devour her. Those eyes, oh those eyes! They made her quiver with want, left her hot and bothered. It was a feeling Hermione was no longer familiar with, having less time for love and the physical needs of her body.
This was the same man who, five years ago, had called her a vicious slur she ought not to mention even in her mind. He’d sneered at her, hexed her and thought her way beneath the dirt on his dragon-hide boots. What made him interested, all of a sudden? She wondered. It wasn’t as if he was out of witches. She had seen a couple of them eyeing him like he was sex on legs. The fact that he’d gone from a pointy-faced git to a heartthrob in a span of a few years made her suspicious he had an ulterior motive behind his actions. Oh, she won’t think of him. Not anymore! She had Ron to think about. She wouldn’t picture Draco’s strong arms..arms that could easily hoist her up and fu—
“Ugh! No! Stop it!” She banged her head on her table, hissing at the pain that made her forget her momentary lapse of sanity. She didn’t even hear her door open.
“Hermione? What’s wrong?” Ron entered hesitantly and sauntered close to her.
“N-nothing!”she stuttered, caught in the act having lurid thoughts about Malfoy. “I’ve got a headache, nothing serious.”
“Reckon what you’re doing doesn’t help. Are we still on for later?” Ron gave Hermione the boyish smile that used to make her heart flutter. Gone was his lanky frame, replaced by muscles from his line of work. He looked handsomer than before. There was no spark, though. It was like the years apart had snuffed the attraction from her.
“Yeah, it doesn’t. I have a potion for it, so I should be okay later.”
He seemed satisfied with her answer and slowly leaned down to kiss her lips. Alarmed and unsure of how she should respond, she moved her face just in time, and his lips landed on her cheek instead. She leaned back, and an awkward silence filled the room.
“Uhm, I’ll see you later then?”
“Yeah, later.” Ron tucked his hands in his robe’s pockets and walked to the door, but he suddenly stopped before leaving her office.
“What the hell are you doing here Malfoy?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Weasley, I work here,” Malfoy snapped back, his voice laced with venom. “Also, if you can kindly move your arse out of the way, I have confidential things to discuss with Granger. You’re wasting my time.”
Ron’s hands tightened to fists, seemingly ready to wipe the sneer off Malfoy’s face.
“Ron, I’ll see you later. Please,” she pleaded. “I have a case I need to run through with Malfoy.”
Ron faced her, gave a curt nod and left in a huff.
Malfoy closed the door behind him and prowled toward her. Hermione was taken aback by the anger she saw in his eyes and carefully backed away into the corner.
“What is it, Malfoy?” She heard her voice falter.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Granger, and I don’t like it. Why?” he snarled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” He placed his hands on the wall, effectively locking her in.
She tried to pry his arms off, but he won’t budge. “Get away, Malfoy! What do you want?”
He turned his grey eyes on her and, in that husky drawl of his, uttered the words that shattered her resolve. “You. I want you, Granger.”
She gasped. Seeing his chance to silence her, Malfoy leaned in and closed the gap between them. His tongue plundered her mouth. Teasing. Caressing. A startled cry escaped her lips and, knees weak from the onslaught of his advances, her hands braced his shoulders out of instinct to keep from falling. Shock turned to arousal, shutting down her sense of right and wrong, and she returned his fervent kisses with the same intensity.
Hermione mewled against Malfoy’s mouth when his hips ground against hers. He did it repeatedly and roughly, seeming completely consumed with need and fueled by the noises she made.
Groaning into her mouth, Draco quickly reached down and lifted her hips to his, hiking her skirt up in the process.
His mouth found her neck and opened hotly to suck at her delicate skin. He tasted her while his hands caressed her arse, still grinding his hips, letting her feel his hard length on her wet heat. This was all unplanned, but he wasn’t about to complain. When he’d seen Weasley try to kiss her, he’d been consumed by a feeling foreign to him. There’s no way he was letting that oaf have his little minx after this. He’d make sure she’d be his. Her lips were plump and red from their passionate snogging, and her eyes were shut tight, lost in the throes of passion.
“Granger, look at me.” She slowly opened her honeyed orbs and couldn’t seem to focus because of his ministrations. “Don’t go with him. This, whatever this is that we have between us, you can’t deny it. Not anymore.”
As if to prove his point, Draco pressed featherlight kisses on her mouth again. She readily parted for him, savoring his taste. Carrying her to a chair, he leaned back and tipped up her chin.
“I won’t give you roses, Granger, cliché isn’t my thing, but I sure as hell won’t leave you hesitating when I give you my attention.” He gazed into her eyes, hoping he’d be able to convey his thoughts. “Let’s give this thing a chance. I saw how you evaded Weasley’s kiss. Say yes.”
In a moment of clarity, she tried to move, but Draco held her hips firmly.
“Let me up, Malfoy. How can we talk properly when you’re holding me hostage?” She pouted those sumptuous lips.
“I think you’re right where you’re supposed to be.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “So? What do you think?”
“Let me up, and I’ll tell you.”
He sighed and gave in, allowing her to stand.
Granger looked away and closed her eyes. “I’m dating Ron. I can’t just up and cancel on him. He’s my friend.” She let out an exasperated sigh. She knew she should feel guilty, but his lips on hers felt so right.
Standing up and feeling incensed by her answer—something he should have expected from this stubborn witch—he marched to the door. Before he grasped the knob, he turned to her.
“We’re not done here, Granger. Think about it. Will you settle for a man you no longer feel like giving a proper snog? I saw you. And I felt how you responded to me.” He scanned her brazenly from head to foot. “You can tell me you don’t want me, but your body sings a different tune. You know where to find me when you change your mind.” He slammed the door on his way out, rattling its frame.
Hermione dropped into her chair when he left. Now there was no faking it, she could really feel a headache coming.
Fidgeting, Hermione arranged her skirt under the table. She didn’t know how she’d be able to break it to Ron while he was yammering on about the latest Quidditch scores and the proper feints.
Startled out of her reverie, she sipped her wine before she said, “Yes?”
“Did you even hear what I said?” Ron frowned, irked that she wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m sorry, Ron, it’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
“'Are you sure that’s the only reason?” He eyed her pensively.
This was it, she thought. That was the opening she was looking for. She hesitated a little too long and, when she faced him, he was looking at her intently.
“I’m sorry.” She took another sip of her merlot for liquid courage and placed her glass on the table. “I don’t think this is working, Ron. We tried. I know we did, but…I think it’s too late for us. I…I no longer feel the same way before I left for Australia.”
All she could hear were the sounds of the neighboring table’s cutlery. Confused by the lack of his legendary outbursts, she looked up. Ron was blinking and swiped an arm over his eyes.
“I know.” He breathed heavily, regret marring his voice. “I just thought, if we tried, we could go back to what we were before this. I should not have allowed you to go alone. I should have been there for you, too. If I was, then maybe, just maybe, we’d be together and happily married like Harry and Ginny.”
Stunned by his admission, she stood up and moved in front of her best friend. This was the man she’d thought she’d spend her life with. Grasping his hand, she pulled him up and hugged him fiercely. People were probably staring, but she didn’t care. Her sobs were muffled by his shirt. She cried for the love they’d lost, for the chance they would no longer get back.
When she was able to get her bearings, she peered at him, eyes puffy from crying. “I love you, you know? You’ll always have a piece of my heart Ron. I know you’ll find someone who will be worthy of your affection someday. I’m sure of it.”
He patted her back and murmured his acquiescence. They returned to their places and continued eating, foregoing any personal conversation and settling on safer topics like their work and their friends. After settling their bill, he took her home and dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead.
Hermione looked around and when she didn’t see anyone, she whispered a few spells to drop her wards. Letting herself in, she did her nightly rituals and prepared for bed. When her head hit the pillow, her mind traitorously reviewed everything that had transpired during her dinner with Ron, and she felt a stray tear escape her eye. She rubbed her cheek to remove the liquid. There was no use thinking about it. They’d made peace with each other.
She only had Malfoy to deal with now.
The git was still as arrogant as ever. When he’d started flirting with her, she’d decided to investigate what the rotten ferret was up to. What she found out was astonishing. He donated a hefty sum each year to war reparations, funded a muggle-born orphanage for those who’d lost their parents in the second wizarding war and other charity work. It seemed he had also left his prejudiced beliefs behind from what she observed in the office. He was chummy with muggle-born wizards and witches, even trusted by Kingsley. And if those sexy intense looks were a promise of what’s to come, hell, she would be coming alright.
Oh well, it seemed a dreamless sleep potion was in order.
He sought her out every chance he got, even though he said she should be the one to approach him when she’s ready. The witch in question was always nowhere in sight. She should have been sorted into Slytherin with all the tactics she employed to avoid his presence. When he was finally able to see her, in her office nonetheless, she disappeared before he even got the chance to talk to her, leaving via portkey for an international magical conference. He was at his wit’s end.
Draco was shuffling papers at his desk, pretending to be busy despite finishing all of his tasks before lunch time. According to his sources, the conference had been extended from a three day event to a week. He was frustrated, irate and terribly missing the wily witch. He thought about giving up, but changed his mind at the last minute. A Malfoy always gets what they want. He huffed. Fat chance that would come true this time. The witch seemed to have forgotten everything they shared for a few minutes in her office.
A knock on his door pulled him out of his brooding. “Come in,” he called out without looking up. His new secretary had been quite outrageous with her propositions recently and if it was her, he had to appear busy or else she’d try to molest him again. Not that the lady wasn’t pretty, quite the contrary, but ever since that encounter with Granger he couldn’t seem to get it up for anyone else.
“What is it, Ms. Hollingsworth?”
“Last I’ve heard it’s Ms. Granger,” a female said with a teasing lilt in her voice.
Malfoy’s head snapped up immediately when he heard her. It couldn’t be. He almost believed he was hallucinating from his constant thoughts about her, but this seemed to be real. There she was, wearing that tight skirt and shirt he fancied so much. Keep your cool, Malfoy. You don’t want her thinking you’re too excited to see her. To cover his shock, he dropped his gaze and perused the documents in front of him.
“How can I help you, Granger?” he uttered nonchalantly.
She sashayed unhurriedly toward him, and he saw her dainty hands grip the edge of his desk.
“Well, you did say I could come here when I changed my mind. You can stop acting like you don’t care Malfoy.” He looked up the saw those plump lips he’d been dreaming about curl into a smile. “Caught how your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when you saw me.”
The cheeky minx. He was about to stand up and face her when she dropped a piece of folded parchment on his table.
“See you on the fourteenth, Malfoy. It’s a date. Don’t be late.” Granger winked, turned on her heel, and left a gaping Malfoy behind.
Hermione walked briskly to her office, trying to calm her beating heart. She knew it was a bold move, what she’d done. But her mind was made up. The entire week in Paris and the weeks she’d constantly pulled a disappearing act on him had given her ample time to think everything through. Although still a bit unsure, there was no denying the physical attraction she felt for him. The magnetic pull was inevitable, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she caved. Hermione preferred to do it on her own terms rather than his. Feeling confident she’d done the right thing, she slowed her pace and grinned. Oh, Malfoy, you’ll absolutely get it, just you wait.
The parchment held an old brass key and instructions to touch it by 8:00 PM on Valentine’s Day, no less. Figured Granger was a romantic. This was the first time he had no idea what to look forward to, no clue what to even wear on this momentous occasion. Not wanting to come unprepared, he wore a three piece suit, just to be sure. She had said it was a date. Satisfied with his appearance in the mirror, he checked the grandfather clock in his room and when the bell tolled, he gripped the key and felt the tugging sensation always accompanied by portkey travel.
He was whisked to an unfamiliar place, and when he turned, he saw a quaint house with a beautiful lawn. It was filled with orchids of various colors and sizes, the grass leading to the house’s entrance was trimmed short and obviously well kept. Not bad. He trudged toward the door and tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Remembering the key, he fished it out of his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. The door slowly opened to reveal a modern looking household filled with muggle contraptions. Did Granger just invited him into her home? Curious.
He called out for her, but when no one answered, he slowly let himself in, hoping against all hope that there were no hexes in place for intruders. He stood in shock when he got to the dining area. There was a table for two, a bottle of wine chilling not too far from it, and a sweet melody playing in the background.
”Like it? Have a seat, Malfoy.”
He saw her, then, coming out of what seemed to be the kitchen. His eyes traveled from her gorgeous face, sporting a pretty smirk that rivaled his signature one, down to her body encased in a little black dress that hugged her curves and flared at the bottom, to the creamy expanse of her legs that went on forever. On her feet were open toed pumps. Draco almost broke a sweat. It seemed he had a foot fetish with the way his breath caught upon seeing her in those.
He coughed to hide his minute ogling, and took a seat.
“This is unexpected, Granger, but definitely welcome. So you and Weasley?”
“You know what, Granger, don’t play games with me.” He narrowed his eyes at her, jealousy flaring up his mood.
She openly laughed, walked toward him and, to his surprise, sat her firm arse on his lap, her arms encircling his neck.
“No need to get all fired up, Malfoy. Ron and I have settled on being friends. Things weren’t looking up on the dating front, and it’s better this way than to ruin years of friendship. Plus, I don’t think we’d be here if I was still into him.” Mischief filled her hazel eyes.
Unable to keep the happiness out of his face, he flashed her an endearing smile, baring that perfect set of pearly whites. The git really was handsome. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, what we’re doing right now…we’re sort of dating, right?”
“Believe you me, Granger, if I had my way, that’s not the only thing we’d be doing tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully and proceeded to snog her senseless.
Only their moans could be heard in the room, dinner all but forgotten.
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