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Hermione hadn’t intended to become an auror. It hadn’t made it onto the exhausting list of possible career options she’d brought to McGonagall in fifth year. There’d just been so much that needed doing during the war and working as an auror had been the easiest way to go about it, so she and Ron and Harry had sort of gotten swept into the position. Which was all well and fine for Ron and Harry, but this isn’t what she wants, she doesn’t think. It’s been years and most days she still doesn’t have the time or energy to focus on what she really wants, so now she’s here, Senior Auror Granger, and it’s – fine.
She thinks she’s happy. She thinks she likes her job. It just feels like something’s missing.
Harry and Luna seem to be warily poking around the idea of dating and Ron and Lavender have been steady for years and she doesn’t remember the last time she went out on a date and it’s – fine.
Draco becomes a barrister after the war, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest.
He becomes a public defender, which does, but also doesn’t, because even though they’re adults and haven’t been in school in half a decade he’s still managing to get on her nerves. His office is in a different hallway than hers but on the same floor and every time they pass each other in the halls he smirks at her and inclines his head and her hand throbs with the urge to hit him hard enough to break something.
The first time it happens, Hermione is at a club in a too short skirt, tits shoved up to her chin, her hair freshly washed and curled, and regretting all of it. She’d come here with Ginny, finally cajoled into going out with her, except now Ginny’s making out with some other quidditch player in the corner and she’s here nursing her drink alone.
The music is loud and the club is dark and Hermione can already feel the headache she’ll have tomorrow and it’s just not worth it suddenly. “I’m going home,” she says, but Ginny is too busy getting her soul sucked out of her to pay attention. She’ll pay her tab and then try again.
Hermione is making her way across the bar when someone knocks into her, throwing off her balance in these heels and pushing her to the ground. Luckily, or unluckily, she takes someone else down with her and lands on top of them instead. “Shit, sorry,” she starts and then looks up to realize she’s laying on top pf Draco.
Draco doesn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed or upset about this. Instead he just raises an eyebrow at her, his hair around his shoulders and his silver silk shirt unbuttoned to his sternum. He wears so many layers of robes at work that she couldn’t have noticed even if she’d been looking, but he’s very – well it’s not like the bastard has become less attractive over the years.
“Bloody hell!” she yells, borrowing one of Ron’s favorite phrases. “Watch where you’re going!”
“You watch where you’re going,” he shoots back lazily, and she shifts, intending to climb off of him, then pauses, and shifts again.
He’s hard.
Her entire face goes red and she freezes, readjusting her weight before she can thing better of it, once more brushing up against his crotch. “I’d stop doing that unless you intend to do something about it,” he says, completely unembarrassed and unrepentant, and if he’s not going to be embarrassed about it, then she doesn’t know why she should be.
So she narrows her eyes and does it again, grinding her hips against his, ignoring the fact that they’re surrounded by people who could look over and – well, it’s late, everyone’s drunk anyway.
He rolls them over so she’s underneath him then lifts them both to her feet. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and guides her deeper into the club, and she shouldn’t let him but she does. He yanks her into the men’s bathroom, locks the door, then turns and presses her against the back of the door. Someone could be right on the other side, just a few inches away. He still hard, she can feel he’s still hard, but he doesn’t move, just holding her there as he raises an eyebrow. “You have to say something if you want this. We’ll have to be quick.”
She stares, warm all over with the memory of Draco on top of her, with this risky, ridiculous thing he’s asking of her. His grey eyes are dark with desire and she wants to pull that shirt from his shoulders and bite into him, to leave a mark on him in the shape of her teeth.
He’s an asshole, but he’s a pretty asshole. Her throat is dry, but she leans back against the door and spreads her legs in a clear invitation. This is a horrible idea in every conceivable way, but he’s on top of her and she wants him and it’s been well over a year since the last time she got fucked.
Draco pushes her skirt up and slips his hand down the front of her panties and uses his fingers to spread her pussy lips and going straight for her clit. Fuck. Who taught him that?
She makes a sound she’s not proud of and he lets out a huff of laughter before dipping lower and slipping one then two fingers inside of her before moving them in and out of her. It’s not as good as when he was rubbing her clit, but it still makes her hips jerk.
“You’re so wet,” he says, and he’s right, she can hear it as he fingerfucks her. She’s practically dripping.
“Shut up,” she rasps. Her throat’s still dry. This is why she hadn’t wanted to talk in the first place.
He hums, then says, “If you’re still talking, I’m not doing this right.”
She has a sarcastic response to that, but the next thing she knows, Draco has pulled her panties to the side and pushed inside her. She hadn’t even noticed him unzipping his pants. Fuck, all his showboating isn’t overcompensating for anything, he’s long and thick, and she feels perfectly full, the burn of the stretch without the pain of it. He leans down at the same time that he grabs her ass and lifts her up to make her the perfect height to fuck into. The change in angle makes her shriek, and she’d feel embarrassed about that, but then he starts thrusting in a steady pace even as he mouths at her neck, biting enough to get her attention but not enough to hurt.
They’re fucking fully clothed in shitty club bathroom, and they don’t even like each other, this is shouldn’t be happening. But also if he stops, she’ll kill him. He’s going fast and deep, seemingly determined to make good on his words and not to let her catch her breath.
Her orgasm sneaks up on her, she’s focusing on his mouth on her collarbone when it comes over her like a wave, and she bites her lip and knocks her head back to keep from screaming, because that would definitely get someone’s attention if the rest of this hasn’t, and she doesn’t know if the stars in her eyes are from her orgasm or hitting her head against the door. She doesn’t think she cares.
She only notices Draco coming when the warm rush of it fills her, and if he was going to come inside her he could have at least warned her. “Rude,” she mutters breathlessly, even if she actually really likes the sensation. It’s a little embarrassing, and it’s not like she’s going to tell him that she likes the feeling of being filled with his come, so.
“And I’m known for my politeness,” he says, giving her a couple more lazy thrusts before pulling out of her. He’s gentle as he lowers her back onto her own two feet. “Don’t worry, I’m on birth control. Got any diseases?”
It is one of the many things she loves about the wizarding world that it’s the responsibility of people with penises to worry about fertility. Although there are spells to take care of that sort of thing if he hadn’t, and they are so, so much easier than the muggle way of doing things.
“Fuck you,” she says, which she hopes appropriately conveys that no, she doesn’t have any diseases, and maybe he should have asked before he stuck his dick inside her if he was that worried about it.
“You already did,” he says, tucking himself into his pants and then reaching out to tug her skirt back down over her hips. “I’ll go out first. Give it thirty seconds then follow me.”
He grabs her waist and literally picks her up to move her out of his way, which he’s definitely doing to just be an asshole, and she doesn’t find it hot at all. He winks at her before leaving, and she forces herself to scowl back.
She could just apparate out. But she still has to pay her tab, and she really should say goodbye to Ginny.
It’s not until she"s sitting at the bar waiting to get a bartender’s attention and she feels something warm run down her leg that Hermione realizes that she forgot to clean up the evidence of her temporary lapse in sanity. Meaning Draco’s come is still leaking from her pussy.
Fuck.
She needs to do something about that, unless she wants to be very embarrassed when she stands up. If anyone asks why she used a scourgify on herself in the middle of a club, she’s just going to say it was to get rid of the sweat.
~
Things are, rather understandably, a little bit awkward after.
Draco doesn’t tell anyone, not even Pansy and Blaise, because what would he even say? Granger knocked into him and they fell, so he fucked her? It sounds ridiculous. Then again, if they’d seen how good she’d looked in that skirt, it wouldn’t seem ridiculous at all.
So for a few days Hermione doesn’t look at him or talk to him, which isn’t so bad, because it’s not like she’d done that before.
But now it’s a pointed silence rather than their normal antagonistic one and he’s getting sick of it. They had sex, so what? They’re not even the most interesting gossip happening on their floor. Neither of them are married, after all, so it cuts down on a significant amount of the scandal.
The tension can’t last forever, of course, so eventually it breaks. Draco doesn’t remember who starts it, or what it was one of them said. It’s too early and they’re walking beside each other, alone in the deserted ministry corridor because they’re both workaholics.
One moment they’re walking in the direction of their respective offices, stiff and silent, and someone makes a snide comment, probably him but who knows with Hermione, and she mentions something about his latest case, then he makes a remark about her shoddy handling of evidence and doesn’t even mean it as double entendre, and she implies something about his motives for his career, as if he’s in public service for material gain, and he doesn’t remember what he says in return, he just knows he’s furious, but whatever it was makes Hermione angrier than he’s ever seen her since they were kids.
He expects to get punched. Maybe cursed.
Instead, she marches up to him, shoves him against the wall, and hisses, “Do you ever shut up?”
She’s close, and angry is a good look on her, all flying bushy brown hair and her flushed enough that her dark skin looks rosy. “Are you going to make me?” he asks, without thinking about it, because a pretty girl has him pressed up against the wall, so flirting is his default response to the situation.
He means to say something else, to backtrack, but then she grabs his wrists and pins him to the wall, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. He’s barely gotten the chance to return the kiss when she rips herself away and stumbles back, her eyes wide and horrified. “Oh, god, Draco – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Is she apologizing for kissing him or for stopping? They’ve already fucked, he doesn’t care if she kisses him. He rather liked it, actually. He raises an eyebrow, and they’re not enemies these days, not in any way that really matters, and she’s very pretty. “Are you going to finish what you started, or will I have to take the situation in hand myself?”
Her eyes drop seemingly involuntarily to his crotch, and his dick is making an obvious tent in his pants. She kissed him and he has the memories of what she felt like around his cock. She’s even wearing a skirt today. He’s not sure what she expected.
They’re so lucky they’re the only people who come to the office this early.
Hermione licks her lips, and Draco leans forward to grab onto her arm and tug her against him, and she’s soft and warm, but solid too. Her years as an auror mean she has enough muscle that doesn’t have to worry about breaking her. Realistically, he should be more worried about the opposite. He kisses her again, but not real ones, soft little baby kisses. He’s not trying to be cute. He’s trying to infuriate her.
It works. She growls and grabs his tie, yanking him down so she can kiss him how she wants to. “I don’t like you,” she says, still dragging him by his tie into her office.
Draco follows then kicks the door shut behind him when they make it there. He transfigures her desk into a bed then pushes her onto it. She doesn’t let go of his tie, so he falls down on top of her, but that’s what he’d expected to happen. “Who said anything about like? I’ve hated you since I was eleven.”
“As long as we’re on the same page,” she says, and starts irritably tugging on the knot of his tie, trying to undo it and failing. This is what she gets for yanking on it so much.
He grabs for his wand, and silently vanishes his clothes, so in the next moment he’s naked on top of her. “We have magic, you know.”
She rolls her eyes and flips them over so she’s straddling his waist, and his cock is pressed right up against the damp cotton of her panties. “Oh, really, I hadn’t noticed.” Her clothes vanish in the next second, and normally Draco likes undressing his partner, but he’s so hard it’s nearly painful and Hermione’s all warm brown skin and dark mocking eyes.
She also has the best breasts he’s ever seen, round and a handful each, her nipples pebbling beneath his thumbs. He’s never wanted to suck on someone’s tits so much before. He didn’t think that was something he was particularly interested in. But all he wants to do is take Hermione’s nipples in his mouth. He hopes she’s sensitive there. He starts to push himself upright, determined to find out, but she presses the flat her hand against Draco’s forehead and shoves him back down. “Ow! Hermione!”
“Just stay still,” she says, and he scowls. He doesn’t want to stay still. He wants his mouth on her.
She sits up on her knees and grabs his cock, giving it a couple experimental strokes. Her grasp is a little firmer than he likes, but her hand is on his dick, so it’s not like he’s going to complain. Then she positions herself over him, and he gets almost no warning at all until she starts sinking down on him.
She’s slick and warm around him, and she doesn’t go slowly either, instead choosing to push herself down on him in one smooth motion. She lets out a content sigh once she’s taken him to the hilt, and that’s enough to get his cock twitching inside of her all on its own. He wants to thrust up into her, wants to twist them so he can pin her to a flat surface, wants to touch her.
But she said to stay still. So he stays still. He’s pretty sure it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. Hermione fucks herself on him, all flushed and covered in a layer of sweat. Her knees bracket his hips and keep him pinned to the bed, but keeping his hands pressed to the mattress and not touching her is torture.
But it’s an especially good form of torture. There are worse things than lying there and being used by a beautiful woman. She pushes herself up then falls back down onto him. The sensation of filling her completely forces a whine out of the back of his throat. She grabs one of his hands and places it we’re they’re joined, pressing his fingers against her clit. “Gentle,” she gasps, which is clearly a command.
He does his best to listen, to keep his fingers steady and slow as she fucks him at a ruthless pace. He knows he must have done something right when her pace becomes choppy and then she convulses around him, letting out a groaning sigh as she comes. She slows down, and her insides are still twitching. She’s clearly someone who’s sensitive after coming, which he hadn’t noticed the first time.
Good.
He shoves her off of him and onto the other half of the bed, then climbs on top of her. She’s so wet that sliding into her is easy, and her breath leaves her all at once. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says, and starts fucking her again. After a moment, he grabs her calf and lifts up her leg, bracing it against his shoulder to change the angle and get deeper inside of her.
She must like it, because she grabs fistfuls of the sheets and gasps out, “Fuck you.”
“You are,” he says snidely, an echo of the same joke he made the last time, just so she’ll glare at him.
He kisses her ankle and goes harder, faster, until Hermione’s eyes glaze over and she’s moaning, which is the best thing he’s ever seen. He reaches down to rub at her clit, careful not to press too hard, and she rips the sheets from the corners of the bed. She comes a second time, letting out a stuttering cry, her legs shaking as he fucks her through it, so close to finishing, but trying to hold off until she’s quivering.
“Too much,” she says, her cunt sensitive and sloppy, which is what he’d been waiting for. He pulls out, and it only takes a couple strokes until he’s coming on her, ropes of white come covering her stomach and breasts. “Gross,” she says, but she’s still breathless, her chest heaving, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it.
He collapses next to her, trying to catch his own breath, wrung out and satisfied in a way that he rarely feels after sex. “Looks like we finally found something you’re good for besides arresting the wrong person.”
She takes one of the pillows and hits whacks him in the face. Considering she doesn’t try and smother him with it, she must know he’s joking. He tosses the pillow to the ground and she says, “You’re actually rather good at your job, you know.”
Uhg, what, why would she say that to him? “I hate you. You’re an awful woman.”
“And you"re a self centered asshole,” she returns. “This doesn’t change that.”
He pauses, considering. “Are we doing this again?” Because she’s talking like they’re doing this again.
“The only reason I’m still here is because I don’t think I’m capable of standing,” she says, and he can’t help the smug grin that stretches over his face. “We’re doing this again if I have to tie you down for it.”
Well. She doesn’t have to tie him down, but he wouldn’t complain if she did.
~
“You seem to be in a better mood lately,” Ron says to her in the middle of chasing down a dark wizard – alleged dark wizard – because that’s the type of brilliant timing her friends have.
This morning Draco went to hers after his morning run and fucked her while she was still sleep warm and he was dripping in sweat, coming inside her with her hands on his wrists just how she likes.
Hermione ducks a hex that is definitely illegal even if nothing else he’s done is. “Focus, Ronald.”
Draco is only slightly less insufferable now that she’s sleeping with him, but it’s not like she’s going to tell anyone that.